The Mystery of the Death Trap Mine - M. V. Carey [24]
“He seems to be actually working the mine,” said Jupiter.
“Sounds that way,” agreed Mrs. Macomber. “He’s setting off explosives in the mine, that’s for sure. I was born here and I know that sound. I lived in this very house when my husband was superintendent here. You can’t mistake dynamite going off in a mine tunnel.
But Thurgood isn’t working that mine full-time. He does his blasting only when he’s got company. Showing off for his rich friends from Los Angeles, I suppose.”
“It’s a weird hobby,” said Bob.
“I’ve known of stranger ones.” Mrs. Macomber smiled. “I once heard of a man who bought an old railroad locomotive. He had three hundred yards of track put down in a field behind his house and he ran his locomotive back and forth on that. He wore a conductor’s uniform whenever he played with his big toy, and he had a ball. Lots of money will do that to folks. Maybe Wesley Thurgood’s got some fuzzy notions of the old days when his dad was a miner, and he’s trying to go back to that time. It’s harmless.”
“You make him sound so innocent,” said Allie.
“Take my advice and don’t complicate things if you don’t have to,” warned Mrs.
Macomber. “The truth of the matter is — you’ve got it in for Thurgood because he’s sore at you. I don’t suppose I blame you. He isn’t very friendly and I’m glad he’s finally got a fence around his place. I didn’t like that dog of his running loose. But then, I don’t have the right to tell him how chatty he’s supposed to be or what kind of a dog he can own.”
The booming sounded again from the mine.
“Mrs. Macomber,” said Jupe, “is there any possibility that Thurgood is working the mine for profit?”
She shook her head. “The Death Trap Mine is dead, dead, dead. The silver was played out forty years ago. I ought to know. My husband and I had a rough time after the mine closed. We had to leave here. You think we’d have gone if there was any chance of staying?
Then after Henry died — he had a heart attack twenty-two years back — I took the insurance money and opened a shop in Phoenix. Sold Indian jewelry and moccasins to the tourists, but I lost everything. I’m no businesswoman. I had to sell out and I wound up working in the same place I’d owned, scraping and saving and standing on my feet all day.”
Her expression had become bleak. Suddenly her look softened. “I wanted to retire here,”
she went on. “I wanted to get back to the place where I’d been happy, and I’m glad I did.
Maybe that’s what Thurgood wants. I remember when he was a dirty-faced kid, toddling around Twin Lakes licking a lollipop. There was something peculiar about that boy even then … but I just can’t remember …”
“But the mine …” insisted Allie.
“Well, the mine made Twin Lakes what it was,” said Mrs. Macomber. “But I don’t feel I have to own it to bring back the good memories. Maybe Wesley Thurgood does. Maybe he’s got to play the role all the way and really be a miner, like his father.”
“And there’s no chance he’s taking anything out of the mine?” Jupe persisted.
“No chance. There’s nothing left to take.”
“Even if the silver is gone,” said Jupe, “could there be gold? Silver and gold are often found together.”
“Not at Death Trap.”
“Copper?” suggested Jupe.
“No. There was silver and the silver is gone.” She shook herself, as if to get rid of an unpleasant thought. “Now that’s enough of that. When the mine was open Twin Lakes was a boom town and we had some good times. And today I own a hunk of what used to be that boom town. If we ever have another wave of prosperity around here, I can fix up my five houses and rent them and make a fortune in my old age. C’mon. I’ll show you boys my little estate.”
Mrs. Macomber led Allie and the boys outside. “I thought about putting padlocks on the doors when I moved in here,” she said. “But I’d have to put a trail of silver dollars from the highway to this place to get even a hobo up here — or at least I felt that way until Allie found the holdup man in the mine. There were plenty of strangers around here after that.
Did they ever find