The Mystery of the Death Trap Mine - M. V. Carey [22]
“Worth five dollars?” asked Pete.
“I reckon so,” said Atkinson. “You can pay more than that for a hunk of something plastic these days. Hang onto it. If you ever feel like having it made into a tie clasp or anything, come back and see me.”
They thanked him and went out to the street.
“The real McCoy!” exclaimed Pete. “There’s gold in that mine!”
“And copper, too,” said Jupe thoughtfully. “But the gold in our pebble isn’t mixed with silver. Odd, since Death Trap Mine was a silver mine in the old days. I know that gold and silver can often be found in the same mine, but gold and silver and copper!”
“Interesting, isn’t it?” said Allie. “That creep Thurgood has found a vein of ore that nobody even suspected was there. His father worked in the mine. Maybe his father knew something and told it to Thurgood. So Thurgood made up that cockeyed story about how he wanted to return to his old hometown, and he bought the Death Trap and now he’s working it.”
Jupe frowned. “If that’s true — that there was a family legend about a secret vein of gold
— then why would Thurgood wait so long to come here? He’s at least forty. He could have investigated the mine anytime in the last twenty years, and bought it cheaply. Maybe he had no interest in it when he was a young man, but he should have had some interest a few years ago, when the price of gold went up. Why didn’t Thurgood show up then?”
“How do we know he didn’t?” Allie insisted. “How do we know he wasn’t here five years ago, when Gilbert Morgan fell down the shaft? Maybe they were confederates. Maybe they got to fighting and Thurgood shoved Morgan.”
“Allie, that’s wild!” protested Bob. “Why should a super-successful real estate man get all heated up about an old mine? There wouldn’t be any reason. And if there is gold and he knew it, he wouldn’t need a confederate. Nobody asked any questions when he just bought the property, did they? But speaking of that crook … hadn’t we better start tracing him?”
Bob took out his notebook and read: “Gilbert Morgan, parole violator. Also used the names George Milling, Glenn Mercer, and George Martins. Released from San Quentin and disappeared from San Francisco five years ago. Probably left San Francisco late in January or early in February. Probably reached Twin Lakes sometime in May of that year, using a car stolen in Lordsburg.”
“A good summary, Records,” said Jupiter.
“He always used the initials G. M., no matter what his alias,” said Bob. “That is all we have to go on. If he was in Lordsburg for any length of time, he may have left some trace.
Shall we try the public library?” he asked. “They’ll have phone books, city directories, and back issues of the local newspaper.”
Allie led the way to the library, where a librarian listened to Jupe explain that he was vacationing in the area and was trying to locate a long-lost uncle. “He sent my mother a postcard from Lordsburg five years ago,” said Jupe. “We wrote to him, but the letters came back because we didn’t have a real address. I promised my mother I’d try to find him.”
The librarian, impressed by Jupe’s earnest manner, produced telephone books and city directories for the last five years. Allie and the boys sat at a long table and started checking the five-year-old directories. “Look for a name with the initials G. M.,” said Jupe. “A name that only appears in one directory or one telephone book — the one for five years ago.”
It did not take long. In ten minutes they had checked the names of sixteen persons with the initials G. M. against the directories for the following year. All but one had remained in Lordsburg. The one odd name, Gilbert Maynard, was missing from several directories, but appeared in the current telephone book. “He must be someone who moved away and then returned,” said Jupe. “He took up residence at the same address.”
“So he can’t be our crook,” said Pete. “Okay. Morgan passed through