Gilded Path to Nowhere

By Elaine L. Orr

When a Maple Grove resident discovers some old gold coins in the woods near town, it's an intriguing event -- but not one that seems dangerous. However, the article Digger's friend, Marty, wrote for the Maple Grove News, seems to have attracted unwarranted attention. Did it come from a long-ago bank robbery or burglary, or was someone passing through murdered in the early 20th century? No matter the source, it leads to a fresh murder today.

Sheriff Montgomery asks Digger for help in tracing descendants of possible owners of the stash of coins. But he didn't mean for her to delve deeply into the case. She and Marty -- with input from the late Uncle Benjamin -- can't resist. Their probe may uncover secrets others will do anything to conceal.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Elaine L. Orr
• Release date: Jul 31, 2022
• ISBN: 9781005603083

Elaine L. Orr

Elaine L. Orr writes four mystery series, including the thirteen-book Jolie Gentil cozy mystery series, set at the Jersey shore. "Behind the Walls" was a finalist for the 2014 Chanticleer Mystery and Mayhem Awards. The first book in the River's Edge series--set in rural Iowa--"From Newsprint to Footprints," came out in late 2015; the second book, "Demise of a Devious Neighbor," was a Chanticleer finalist in 2017.The Logland series is a police procedural with a cozy feel, and began with "Tip a Hat to Murder" in 2016 The Family History Mystery series, set in the Western Maryland Mountains began with "Least Trodden Ground" in 2020. The second book in the series, "Unscheduled Murder Trip," received an Indie B.R.A.G. Medallion in 2021.She also writes plays and novellas, including the one-act play, "Common Ground" published in 2015. Her novella, "Falling into Place," tells the story of a family managing the results of an Iowa father’s World War II experience with humor and grace. Another novella, "Biding Time," was one of five finalists in the National Press Club's first fiction contest, in 1993. "In the Shadow of Light" is the fictional story of children separated from their mother at the US/Mexico border.Nonfiction includes :Words to Write By: Getting Your Thoughts on Paper: and :Writing When Time is Scarce.: She graduated from the University of Dayton and the American University and is a member of Sisters in Crime. Elaine grew up in Maryland and moved to the Midwest in 1994.Her fiction and nonfiction are at all online retailers in all formats -- ebooks, paperbacks, large print, and (on Amazon, itunes, and Audible.com) audio in digital form. Paperbacks can be ordered through Barnes and Noble Stores as well as t heir online site.Support your local bookstore!

Book preview

GILDED PATH TO NOWHERE

Family History Mystery Series

Book 4

Elaine L. Orr

GILDED PATH TO NOWHERE

Elaine L. Orr

Copyright 2022 by Elaine L. Orr

All Rights Reserved

This book may not be copied in any form.

Discover all books in the Family History Mystery Series

Least Trodden Ground

Unscheduled Murder Trip

Mountain Rails of Old

Gilded Path to Nowhere

Other Books Include

Jolie Gentil Cozy Mystery Series

River’s Edge Cozy Mystery Series

Logland Mystery Series

www.elaineorr.com

http://elaineorr.blogspot.com

ISBN: 978-1-948070836

DEDICATION

As we age, we begin to lose people close to us.

If you have a small family, this could leave you alone.

This book is dedicated to the people who need

to learn to have friends become family.

May it be a smooth transition.

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

All of my books have heroes off the pages – friends, critique

group members, and family who read many drafts.

Because of a severe back injury that put me behind,

this book had exceptional helpers in all three categories. My

Decatur critique group stepped up, of course.

Special thanks to J.D. Webb and Angela Myers,

critique group friends who volunteered to go through

the entire book one more time. And to my sister,

Diane Orr-Fisher and fellow author Karen Musser Nortman,

who did the same.

I wish I could give those extra hours back to you!

Table of Contents

DEDICATION

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

CHAPTER NINETEEN

CHAPTER TWENTY

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

MORE BOOKS BY ELAINE L. Orr

ABOUT ELAINE

Chapter One

TREASURE HUNTER FINDS Stash of Gold Coins from Late 1800s.

Digger Browning almost dribbled her cereal. Marty Hofstedder had told her to look for an interesting article in Friday’s Maple Grove News, but she hadn’t expected gold coins.

She scanned the piece. The unnamed finder had hunted for the coins many times. He had heard stories about some that were stolen from a retired banker in the early 1900s. Supposedly the thief, an itinerate blacksmith making his way West, arrived in Maple Grove on a warm June day and left town a few days later.

The date of departure was uncertain, but the blacksmith, Gerard Morton, was found dead on June 9th on Meadow Mountain, a mile above Maple Grove – minus any coins.

Uncle Benjamin floated into the remodeled kitchen and listened as Digger gave him the gist of the article. "I never believed that story. That banker, Robert Heller, had a gambling problem. I think he lost ‘em at the poker tables."

You weren’t quite born then, Digger said.

He snorted. "Not ‘til 1935. But my parents said every now and then, especially during the Depression, somebody’d organize a search in the woods for those coins."

What do you know about the man who supposedly stole them?

"Marty’s article said his name was Morton, and that’s what I always heard. Blacksmith. Cars were getting popular in Baltimore, and he thought he’d go to Nevada or someplace where they still used a lot of horses."

And what? Digger asked. He ran out of money in the Western Maryland mountains and thought he’d burglarize a house?

Uncle Benjamin shrugged. "Like I said, I think old man Heller made up the stolen coins. Maybe the guy did break into his place. No way to know now."

Digger looked at the clock on the stove. I have to get to the office. You coming today? She picked up her cereal bowl and put it in the sink.

"I ‘spose. Do I look okay?" He smirked.

Do you really think I have an opinion? As a ghost, Uncle Benjamin could simply imagine himself in a different outfit and he would be wearing it.

At the moment, he wore what had been his favorite home outfit before he died – a yellow, long-sleeve shirt with frayed cuffs and a red cardigan. He didn’t sport his green tie, but he usually reserved that for the Christmas season. He had added a daffodil to one of the sweater’s buttonholes and carried a goldminer’s pick.

Digger envied him sometimes. She was most comfortable in jeans and a cotton sweater, but to the office she wore a blazer with either slacks or a skirt. She glanced down to be sure she hadn’t dribbled any cereal on her hunter green blouse.

I’ll bring the paper so we can finish the article.

"Meet you in the car." He floated out the closed back door. Uncle Benjamin could remain at the Ancestral Sanctuary without Digger, but he couldn’t go other places unless he was with her. He often came to her office and roamed through the building.

Digger put food in Bitsy’s bowl and rubbed her dog’s head. The German Shepherd made a small whine. He’d been out twice already, but he hated it when Digger left for the day.

Don’t let Ragdoll boss you around. Bitsy’s ears perked up and he looked around. With no cat in sight, he wandered off, apparently to secure a friendly hiss.

Uncle Benjamin’s cat was the only other mammal in the house who seemed able to see and hear him, not that Digger could be positive about that. The long-haired feline followed him around and perched on tables in whatever room he occupied, just has she had before he died.

MARTY’S ARTICLE DOMINATED conversation in the Coffee Engine that morning. By the time Digger had ordered a cup for her and one for Holly, she had overheard four theories from other patrons.

A collector had dropped them while hiking on the mountain.

Someone died in the woods long ago and the coins weren’t found until the wallet they were in disintegrated.

There were rumors someone wanted to buy land on the mountain for a camping resort. Maybe they were rich and had dropped the coins.

The Bank of Maple Grove was robbed in 1910. The thieves were never caught. Maybe they buried the coins in the woods and an animal finally dug them up.

Digger was tempted to ask the most voluble man why he thought a bank robber didn’t retrieve them, but stopped herself. It would lead to more speculation and a long conversation. Was 1910 also the year Heller’s coins disappeared?

She parked in the small lot behind the office of You Think, We Design, and carefully balanced the coffees as she walked around the building to the front door. The crisp, late Spring air gave her an incentive to think of a reason she could be outdoors today.

Digger sat one of the coffee cups on the sidewalk so she could pull open the door to the two-story, frame commercial building where she and Holly rented much of the second floor. A few flecks of green paint had chipped from the trim near the door itself. That was new.

"Too bad you can ride the banister up." Uncle Benjamin demonstrated.

When she arrived at the second floor office she and her partner shared, Digger heard a fifth theory from Holly. Her grandmother, Audrey, speculated that the coins were related to building the railroad through Western Maryland. She had heard that John W. Garrett, after whom their county was named, had paid workers in gold coins if they laid so many miles of track in a day.

Digger frowned as she placed Holly’s coffee on her desk. She does know that the Meadow Mountain tracks were only a spur off the main B & O System, right?

Holly waved a hand as she reached for her cup. That doesn’t bother her. She figures a paymaster absconded with some of the gold and hid it away from where they were laying track.

Digger grinned. And then he couldn’t find it?

I managed to get away before I heard the rest of the theory.

Along with Digger, Audrey was active in the Maple Grove Historical Society, but she had what Uncle Benjamin referred to as an active imagination. This was when he wasn’t calling her a busybody.

Why were you with your grandmother early on a March morning?

Holly sat the coffee cup on her large desk, which occupied the center of their graphic arts and marketing firm. I stayed at her place last night to help her do more research on our slave ancestors. We went over to the historical society yesterday after work and I photocopied pages from the 1860 and 1870 census for Allegany County, you know, before we were Garrett County.

She can’t look at the paper copies when she volunteers at the society? Digger asked.

Her eyes really are getting worse. I mean, she’s eighty-something. She has a really thick magnifying glass at her house, and she pores over stuff. She’s too vain to take the magnifier to the society. She can use her key after hours to copy pages and read them at home.

Uncle Benjamin added a decorative pair of glasses to his outfit. "She’s so vain."

I believe she doesn’t want to own up to her bad eyesight. I’m amazed she was willing to pay for the copies.

Holly raised an eyebrow. "I didn’t say she paid."

Digger smiled. How old is she? I thought you found her christening records.

I did. She’s eighty-six. But she doesn’t own up to it, so I don’t let on I know.

Digger shook her head as she sat at her desk and opened a folder. I’m revising the new tourism brochure to focus less on the Visitor Center itself.

Why?

The Chamber of Commerce board wants to mention things people can do in and around Maple Grove, especially hiking. They also want more about the B&Bs.

What made them want something different?

Abigail told me yesterday that they want to attract more young people. They mostly go down to Deep Creek Lake.

Holly frowned. Did you tell them to pay for a couple hours more work, since you were almost finished with a mock-up?

I did. What are you up to today?

Menus. She laughed at Digger’s raised eyebrows. I’m going to come up with a standard design for all the restaurant menus in town. Then we can plug in the specifics and some graphics that go with whatever they serve.

Uncle Benjamin, who now sported a chef’s hat and apron, sat on top of a bookcase. "Maybe you can include smudges that look like spilled chocolate milk."

Distracted, Digger stumbled over her words. What made you think of that?

Audrey and I had Sunday breakfast at the diner. Their menus are so old they’ve crossed out prices when they raised them. And I swear mine had some egg yolk on it.

"Told you," Uncle Benjamin said.

Menus are usually pretty labor-intensive, but if they use our standard design, we could do them quickly.

Yep, Holly said, and they could update them more easily. Because we’d use a standard format, we wouldn’t have to charge a lot and our company name would be somewhere on the menus.

Free advertising. Great idea. Digger faced her computer and turned it on. "Let me know if you need any help.

I’m just getting started. I’ll ask if I need it.

"Hey. Aren’t you going to talk some more about Marty’s article?"

Holly couldn’t see or hear Uncle Benjamin. More than once she’d come into a room when Digger was talking to him and she had to say she was talking to herself.

Digger had arranged her computer so Holly couldn’t see the screen from where she sat. She typed, I have to work. Go away.

"You need to be more polite to your elders. At least spread out the paper so I can read the rest of it."

Digger typed, In a minute.

She turned to Holly. In the Coffee Engine this morning, someone mentioned there might be people who want to buy land on the mountain to create a campground. Have you heard about that?

Last time I stopped in the Chamber, Abigail asked me the same question. Audrey heard it at the grocery store. Though she thought she might have heard blood hound instead of campground.

Gee, if Abigail heard it, there must be something to it. Digger paused. Or it’s a rumor that really gained steam.

Holly shrugged. Not much up there.

Can’t think of any easy access to water. Guess I’ll wait for something more concrete than a rumor. Digger eyeballed the hand-written mock-up of the revised tourist brochure to decide how much text would fill up one of the tri-fold pages.

Uncle Benjamin floated over and sat cross-legged on her desk. "Maybe you and Marty could take sleeping bags up there and see how rocky the ground is."

She glared at him.

The phone rang and she reached around Uncle Benjamin to grab it.

He laughed and floated toward the ceiling.

You Think, We Design. This is Digger Browning.

Marty sounded cheerful. What did you think of the article?

I’m glad you called. It’s a reminder to finish it. She opened the paper and spread it on her desk.

It was so dull you didn’t read all of it?

She laughed. I was rushing to get to work. I brought it with me. Who’s the guy who says he found the coins?

I’m not supposed to tell anyone who he is.

Even your girlfriend? Digger asked.

Holly raised her voice enough for Marty to hear her. Or her best friend?

Digger put Marty on speaker. Don’t gang up on me, he said. Professional ethics.

He’s not exactly a source who needs to be protected, is he? Digger scanned the rest of the article. It says the person is an ‘Average Joe,’ whatever that means.

He didn’t even want me to let on a guy found them, but I told him I wasn’t going to say ‘he or she’ throughout the article.

Uncle Benjamin waved a hand in front of Digger’s face. "Ask him if he’s seen the coins."

Exactly what kinds of coins are they? she asked.

Marty didn’t say anything for a couple seconds. The one I saw was an 1888 five-dollar coin.

"Those coins aren’t all that rare." Uncle Benjamin said.

How do you know he has more than one? Digger asked.

He had a draw-string bag.

It didn’t seem that Marty had insisted on definitive proof that the man had more than one five-dollar gold coin. If he found it outside, wouldn’t a cloth bag have deteriorated?

I asked him about that. He said he put them in the pouch after he found them. Soft leather, which he made himself from deer hides he’d tanned. Full of coins. He let me hold it.

Uncle Benjamin floated onto Holly’s desk. "That sounds like Bruno Sampson. He lives above Maple Grove on the west side of the mountain. Not exactly a hermit, but close."

Hmmm, Digger said. She decided not to ask if Sampson had found the coins.

Marty seemed to sense Digger’s doubt. The bag was a lot heavier than it would have been if it’d had quarters.

Heavier than if he’d had more recent dollar coins in there?

Softly, Holly said, Uh-oh.

Marty’s tone had an edge to it. I wouldn’t have written about it if I didn’t believe the guy.

Of course. You’ll be pleased to know that the article had everybody talking at the Coffee Engine when I stopped there.

Oh, yeah? You think they’d read a follow-up piece?

Digger rolled her eyes at Holly and took the phone off speaker. I think you’d have to give them a more complete account of what the guy found and where they could have come from.

I’m not supposed to say where on the mountain they were. He plans to look for more.

More power to him. I have to get to work.

Lunch?

Digger glanced at Holly, hard at work on the menu design. A short one at the diner. Twelve-thirty, okay?

Bringing your uncle?

God, I hope not. Bye.

Holly looked up. What are you so fervently not hoping?

Digger could have slapped her forehead. I don’t want a bunch of people offering their theories on the coins.

I can just hear your former neighbor going on for half-an-hour. What’s his name?

O’Bannon. And he’s at the diner every morning with a couple other old-timers. Should be gone by the time Marty and I get there.

DIGGER WAS UNLUCKY on both counts.

Uncle Benjamin wanted to go to the diner and promised to stay away from her and Marty. "I’ll go into the kitchen and practice smelling, and then I’ll wander around away from you two and eavesdrop."

Uncle Benjamin grinned when he saw Doug O’Bannon in a booth, joined by a man from the VFW and one from the Knights of Columbus. He headed that way and Digger made a beeline for a spot just around the corner from them. She returned Doug’s wave, but pretended she didn’t hear the eighty-something man call to her.

The diner wasn’t the traditional cigar-shaped, stand-alone building. The customers sat in a U-shaped space, and the interior of the U was filled in with the kitchen. For some reason, few people sat at the old-fashioned counter. Maybe because they went to the diner looking for companionship.

As she made her way to a booth, she passed one with Lucas, a Chamber board member who had given her ideas for the tourism brochure. Digger, how’s the new pamphlet coming along?

I should have the revisions you wanted in the next couple of days.

Great. We really need to boost income for all the businesses, but especially the B&Bs. Have to have places for people to stay.

We sure do. Enjoy your lunch.

She slid into a booth. Menus stood behind napkin holders at each table or booth, and Digger studied one before Marty arrived. A sticky substance attached to the side of her pinky finger and hand.

She saw Marty and waved. At six-two, he was usually easy to find. Since he’d moved to Maple Grove from Baltimore only a few years ago, he also dressed like a city guy- more likely khakis than jeans, no baseball caps or hoodies, and either a blazer or dressy sweater.