Running With the Treasure

7/31/2019 Running With the Treasure

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ROXANNE

Roxies best rayon tee sulked in a crumpled mass at the bottom of her travel bag. San

Francisco was too cool for a halter top, so she pulled on the tee, wrinkles and all. The keys to

freedom hung around her neck and the tee covered all but the flat-link chain. Four otherstwo in

each shoewhich she hurried to remove, had imprinted the soles of her feet. Unlacing shoes and

slipping her hand into first one sock and then the other she removed the keys and massaged sore

heel muscles with a thumb. Relieved, she tugged her socks back into place and laced the shoes.

She liked her quarters, a corner room in a posh, remodeled hotel just below the gate to

Chinatown. She flung the drapes aside and jimmied open the windows to get some fresh Pacific

air. In wafted urban air, warm, sweet-and-sour and laden with heavy fumes from used grease andemissions from braking uphill traffic. She inhaled it all, broadening her lungs to make room for a

savory city.

Glancing in the mirror, she groaned, showing teeth. She had hoped to look better, but what

can you do when you and your clothes have been pressed into an airplane all day? Lit by a

narrow beam of sunlight through the window, her auburn hair shone. The streaks of fuchsia she

had added seemed harsh in the natural light.

She became aware of the clock and how time pressed on as she deflated onto the side of the

bed and wheeled her black case over to open it. First, she examined its surface almost tenderly

with her fingertips making certain there was no exterior damage. She had paid seventy- eight-fifty

at the airport to insure it and handed over the small sum with a fleeting wish that it might be lost.

How would it be to collect its declared value instead of the box? Life had a way of changing like


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that in revolving-door moments, grand pivots, when unexpected things happen-like Dottie driving

the lawnmower into the gulch.

Roxie began her opening ritual. She removed the combination locks first and then with the

keys unlocked each of the double doors. Both locks and keys she shoved into the tucked

bedspread beneath the pillow beside her. Next, she manipulated the trick door panels into

position to remove them and set those aside. Taking a deep breath, she lifted out the first drawer

and set it on the floor near her feet to count and examine its contents.

One at a time, she removed twelve drawers accounting for all the chains, gold and silver, and

for the free stones she had bought to work with as well as the rings and bracelets she had already

made. After a thorough inventory, she glanced at the locked door and stood.

There was one more thing to do.

She rotated the case ninety degrees so she could get to the inner chamber and plopped cross-

legged on the floor in front of it, pushing the doors wide open. Then she leaned over and pulled

the chain of keys from inside her shirt. The side panels, once she had them unlocked, reversed

into display racks which she lowered to rest on the floor and eased the crimson satin tab from its

hiding place in the velveteen center panel. She tugged until it too separated from the wall of the

box, revealing the eighteen prized gold coins Dottie had mounted in three vertical rows, all pieces

thought to be of high value, but that was always unknowable until they were shopped on the

market.

All were present and Roxie lifted the most precious, an uncirculated 1938 Charlotte minted

gold eagle. Wondering at its perfection, she adjusted the case so the coins would catch sunlight

through the window and bounce arcs of reflected light around the room. She smiled as she did

this, reveling in the magical qualities of light.

She sighed. Time was critical. The cash in her pocket would buy her three days.

Reversing the ritual, she secured the coin collection, snapped in the racks of jewelry and

pushed the drawers of chains and stones into place and locked the box. When the keys were

returned to their respective places, she called for a cab.


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* * *

In the hotels one elevator, she observed strangers and how their eyes fell on the black box as

they waited. They were trying to figure out what was in the box, she could tell. A little girl, a few

inches smaller than the box and on eye level with the master keyhole asked, How many drawers

has your suitcase got?

Roxie thrilled at the girls perception and curiosity, but substituted a nonchalant shrug for an

answer, afraid of revealing something important. Whats your name? she asked to distract her.

Becca. The girl tucked her chin onto her shoulder and twisted toward the woman beside

her. Roxie felt a pang. Her eyes stung. What was it, adoration? She willed herself not to tear up. If

she started to cry, she might never stop.

The elevator door opened and she waited for all the others to get off before she exited toward

a taxi stand where a driver wearing black pants and a white shirt with a yellow pocket badge

waited at the front door. He surveyed the box like he knew at a glance she was the one whod

phoned him. Its bigger than I thought," he said.

"Just open your trunk, Roxie said, rolling the oversized case toward his yellow cab. Its not

all that heavy.

No problem, he said, circling the box, sizing it up.

The driver from the airport had to tie it in, she said, holding out a bungee cord. Just don't

be rough with it.

The driver seemed to like the challenge. He opened his trunk and rolled the box as Roxie

had, and then struggled to lift it. She helped heft it into the trunk, and when the trunk wouldn't

close, he took the cord.

Roxie didnt like the way he took it, changing his mind maybe, a little put-out, like her

clunker wasnt part of his job. That was okay with Roxie. She didnt care what some take-you-

anywhere-but-going-nowhere cab driver thought. She planned to make it worth his time.


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dumpling?

The answer sounded like bean curd.

She needed a partner in this adventure; this was too much for one person to eat, and she was

overspending. When she wished for someone, it was always her sister, no one else. No one else

could be trusted.

The cabbie got out of the cab and walked around some, and though he didn't go far and

seemed to be watching the cab, she ate quickly and got up to go pay. The clerk asked for four-

fifty!

What? For all that? She pulled the money out of her travel pack and paid up thinking she

could do this again. She would have plenty left after paying for the cab. She turned to go out, and

pushed open the heavy glass door.

The warm street air hit her as she focused on an empty parking space. She sucked it in. The

cab was gone. Her jaw dropped as her head jerked about, searching the street. Then she saw it,

rounding the corner, its trunk winking at her like a tease. All her worst nightmares coming true:

this was not fair. She ran so hard her keys made holes in her feet and angry tears blurred her

vision.

Shaking her fist, she screamed, Stop you bastard! She dodged traffic to catch up before he

turned the next corner. Once she touched the fender on the drivers side, she vowed, Youve had

it brother... She fumbled with the door in a rush of panic and banged on the window, shouting,

Get out! Get out of there, right now.

The door flew open. A dirty, unshaven man jumped out in her face, a man with yellow-brown

teeth, and reeking overnight liquor-breath, not her cabbie at all. Had she not been working on

adrenaline, she might have noticed that he didnt threaten as he pushed her out of the way, leaped

out, and ran off, dirty long hair flagging behind.

She gawked at his bare feet, glad that he was running now instead of her, and she jumped

into the drivers seat and looked up at the green traffic light. For the first time, she heard the cars

insistent horns behind her.


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She was starring in a nightmare. She tried to remember if the stinking man had shot her. Her

Daddy swore if she came out here, she'd get shot. Shed been expecting it.

Now, here she was with a cab and no driver, her box already in the trunk, and if she could

just drive it down to Beach Street, she could save some money. He hadnt watched the case for

her. What happened to him anyway? Where did he go? At this rate, her money might last a lot

longer than she'd planned. Impatient horns pressed her for a decision.

Right, steal a cab.

In the drivers' seat, she put her hand on the wheel, her foot on the accelerator and took a deep

breath. Fingers of terror circled her heart and clutched. She was immobilized, frozen by fear.

Horns blared. Faces stared. She wished she could die. Why Dottie, not me?

If the cab was stolen, it might not be smart to drive it, even if only to Beach Street. She

decided to get out and flag down another cab, but before she could open the door, the police car

with its flashing blue light and blaring siren screeched up beside her. She closed her eyes tight

and waited.


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POLLY

Polly Wainwright wore nothing but a cotton slip and bedroom shoes when she peered

between curtains that sultry August morning onto a sunbaked lawn and decided to wear green. In

her closet, she found two possibilities, the apple green dress or the olive slacks. While the slacks

might be easier, the dress was light as a breeze, and if she wanted to go someplace fancy, like the

soda fountain for lunch, then the dress would be best. She slipped it off the hanger, unbuttoned

the bodice and stepped in. As she buttoned it up in front, she remembered what Spencer had said

when she bought it. Im glad to see youre feeling like my girl again.

Now, as for shoes, well it all depended on how close she could park. She could circle the

block until a parking space opened up, what she would have to do if she wore the flats that

matched, and where were they; had she donated them already?

Oh, goody, she said, discovering them in the back of the closet like obedient students in

line against the wall. I pick you. She slipped the green flats onto her gnarled bare feet as if they

were glass slippers that had to fit and hobbled to the mirror. Stockings, silly, she said to her

image. Pantyhose or? Now, wait. Where was it she needed to go? Polly gazed at her face in the

mirror. What was the matter with her?

She walked away.

In the kitchen, as she had every morning for forty years, she opened the refrigerator.

Today, little could be found there, a carton of orange juice and a jar of blackberry jam. Why,


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shed better buy some groceries! She emptied the juice carton, transferring its contents into a

small glass, and threw away the carton.

Eggs! Goody; two left.

She rummaged through the corner cabinet and found her smallest saucepan, placed both

eggs on the bottom of it, and held it under the faucet to cover them with water. She set the flame

at medium high to bring them to a boil.

So where was the paper? Had she brought it in? She went to the living room, but didnt

find it there, and through the blinds, she observed that it was not on the front step, either. What

had she done with it? The paperboy might be late againhaving to deal with late deliveries made

her tiredbut, it might be out there somewhere; shed better look.

Outside, there was no dew, no breeze and the sun had just topped the trees to parch her

skin. She squinted up at a white-blue sky. Another scorcher.

A hummingbird zoomed out of the verbena and off toward the house next door. Her eyes

followed and then continued across Second Avenue to the decrepit house she wished someone

would buy and fix up and then to the corner lot, to Ray Everetts Used Cars. When that had been

a Standard Oil Station, she and Spencer sat here Sunday afternoons admiring all the new cars

coming by, but now cars werent going anywhere, they were just sitting there. Ray liked selling

cars though, and he was pretty good at it.

For Heavens sake. Thats my car. Whats my car doing over there? She hurried back

inside.

Mama! she heard. It was Ray calling her from the kitchen. What are you cooking?

Mama? The eggs have boiled dry!

Im right here. She smelled the scorched metal.

In the kitchen Ray was running water into the pot that spit and spattered and then sighed

with relief. Oh my... Polly reached for the knob on the stove, to turn the flame off.

Leave it alone, Mama! Ive got it, Ray snapped. Just let me. Its hot as hell. Did you

forget it? Did you go off and leave it again?


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I guess I did. She turned back. I was on the porch looking for...

Heres the paper. He slapped it down on the counter. Thats what you were looking for.

Dont I always bring your paper? He pronounced I, and all words containing a long i sound, in

that Georgia wayboth flat and widethat he learned from his fathers side of the family.

Oh, said Polly, dwelling on the sound of her former husbands voice. She straightened.

Well, so whats new?

You, for one thing. Look at you. What are you so dressed up for?

Im not, am I?

You look a might spiffy to me, Ray said, counting pills into her hand. Heres your

medicine. One red, two white, half the little blue, and your big fat vitamin.

I despise that vitamin, said Polly. I nearly choke every time I have to swallow it. Dont

they make any little bitty vitamins?

I reckon you could take a little pill for every kind of vitamin, said Ray, but wed be

here till dinnertime if you did that. He made a fake cheerful sound resembling a chuckle.

Ga-ah-lee. Polly said. Forget that.

Im going to Sylacauga today, Ray told her. Im bringing back a trade for Billy Blythe.

The Mercedes hes been looking for finally turned up. Im driving an SUV up there to trade for it,

nearly new.

Well, you be careful. Whats the weather supposed to do?

Here, check the paper. Ray led her to the living room with it. Sit down here and Ill

bring you some breakfast. What do you want?

I ate already.

No. Your eggs scorched in the pot. You want some cereal?

I reckon, she said, but Im not all that hungry.

Some toast and jelly?

All right. She sighed and flapped open the newspaper.

He rustled wrappers in the kitchen. The toasting bread smelled good and Polly felt a


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distinct hunger pang so that when he handed her two pieces, buttered, with apple jelly, she

grinned and said, Just what I wanted. How did you know?

Whats it say about the weather? Ray turned the paper over. Supposed to hold off till

tomorrow. Good.

Good, Polly echoed. That means I can go for a drive later on.

Where do you want to go so dressed up? You look like youre expecting company.

Polly thought about it; was somebody coming over? Ray, I declare I cant remember

things like I used to! I forgot whos coming. I declare I did.

Dont worry, Mama. Its probably Irene. Thats her favorite dress youre wearing. And if

I know Irene, shell be here before Im gone. Is she planning to take you somewhere?

Polly laughed. I reckon so. She nibbled on the toast and set the plate on the coffee table

so she could read the paper. Wonder what the weathers gonna do?

Clear, Mama, clear, and hot. Maybe rain tomorrow. Listen; do you know when Irene will

be here? I need to go. Billys gonna want his car when he gets off this afternoon.

You go right on, said Polly. Just be careful.

I will, Mama. Im always careful. He kissed her on the cheek and went to the phone and

dialed Irene. When he hung up, he said, Ill see you tonight. I told Irene Id be back by supper.

When he was gone, Polly took her plate to the trash can and dumped the toast. She opened

the refrigerator to look for some eggs, but found an empty drawer. Why, when did I finish the

eggs? Thats it, she said aloud. Ive got to go to the store. Im down to practically nothing. She

reached into the trash and pulled the toast back out and finished it.

Her purse was in the closet, and her wallet had money, but her car keys werent there. She

was always losing her keys. That was nothing new. They werent in the kitchen, either. She

opened the door to see if Ray was still there, but no he had gone, and where was her car? Had he

taken her car? Why didnt he drive his own car? He mustnt have realized she was out of food.

The nerve of him, taking my car. Then Ill just drive his!

But he hadnt left his, either. What a pill that Ray could be! She picked up the phone to


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call him. Dumbfounded, she held it out, a familiar object so oddly unfamiliar, and stared. What

the Sam Hill was his number?


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Roland

Roland Farr, a soon-to-be Auburn freshman, felt beads of sweat trickle down his back as

he practiced Beethovens Sonata for French horn in the sweltering office at Ray Everetts Used

Cars. His trimmed hair was wet, which also meant curly. This was his first day at work and he

was overdressedone problem with dressing to make a good impression as his parents had

hammered into him because sometimes it made you do really stupid things. Tomorrow, if Mr.

Ray would allow it, he would wear a nice pair of shorts, his good sandals and maybe a short-

sleeve cotton shirt? Would that make it nice enough?

He put his horn down on the cluttered desk and stood to stretch. Damn its hot. He

glanced at his watch (only nine oclock) and then past the failing window air-conditioner and

through the glass door. He was astonished to see his first customer. Mr. Ray, his boss who had

gone to Sylacauga to trade a car, had told him not to expect more than one or two. He had

encouraged him to practice his music, going on about how slow Tuesdays always are and said,

Otherwise, Id never leave you here by yourself on your first day.

Rolands instructions were to go along on any test drives, emphasize all the best selling

points while the potential buyer was in the car, be sure to get names and phone numbers, and let

anybody know that Ray would be back by four to complete a sale. Roland loved the way Raytalked, with an aristocratic Southern-lawyer kind of accent different from the ones back home in

North Carolina, and he felt lucky to have found a boss who would to let him practice his music on

the job during slow times when there were no customers.


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So here was his first customer. She was a tall, thin woman in a light green summery dress

and a matching floppy hat. She was standing by Mr. Rays perfectly restored antique Mustang. He

had parked his finest antique at the edge of the lot out by the road to catch a big fish with money

and maybe this lady was the one. She looked just like the car. Roland smiled as he lifted the keys

from the hook on the wall. If he could sell that car on his first day without the help of his boss,

hed probably get a raise.

The car had been re-painted its original calypso green and as he approached her from

behind, he guessed the womans dress color had the same name. She tried to open the door and

seemed unduly upset to find that the car was locked.

You want to take her for a test drive? he asked. You like the color, I know, he said to

her back, and when she spun around, he put out a friendly hand. Hi, Im Roland Farr. Good to

meet you.

She whirled around and stared, mouth agape as if maybe she had been expecting someone

else.

Youd be a perfect pair. Roland said. Would you like to take her for a test drive? He

dropped the empty hand and held up the keys.

The woman gawked a long moment before asking, Wheres Ray?

Oh. Hes gone to Sylacauga, but I can go with you. No problem.

Oh, she shook her head hard and waved. No, you dont have to do that. Thank you

though. She reached out for the keys. I dont know why in the world he parked it over here.

Showing it off, Roland said. Its a pretty sweet restoration. He unlocked the car,

opened the door and got in, reaching across to open the passenger door. Then as he got back out,

he tried to place the keys in her hand.

She glared, not moving, arms dropped at her sides, again seemingly befuddled.

Here you go, Roland said, eager to make a sale.


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Well, arent you a gentleman, she said, taking the keys.

Roland closed the door once she was inside the car and headed around to the other side as

she cranked it. He opened the door and hopped in. Look at this interior, he said. Dont you

think it looks brand new?

She peeked over at him. Now, who are you?

Roland. Once again, he extended a hand. And you?

This time, she took his hand and squeezed. Well, Im Polly.

Glad to meet you, Miss Polly.

She nodded. Okay, so, where am I taking you?

Thrown by the question, he offered, Well, it would be okay to go as far as the four-lane if

you want to and out on the interstate so you can get up some speed and see how she runs.

She twisted to peek over her shoulder and began to back out. If Im giving you a ride,

she said, youll have to tell me where to go. I dont remember where you live.

He squinted in her direction, Wait.

She straightened the car, pulled over to the lots exit onto Second Avenue and stopped.

No, Maam, Roland said. I work here. Im just going with you because Mr. Ray told

me to. Hell be back by four, though, so no worries.

She pulled out right and headed toward town instead of the interstate. Oh, I remember

now. Your parents live on Tenth Street, dont they? The big house by the Catholic Church?

No, Maam. My parents live in Charlotte. Im here a week early for the job, but Ill be

starting school at Auburn next week.

So thats it, she said, stopping for a red light. Of course you are. Im so glad youre

going to Auburn. Dont you just love it? She beamed at him.

Yes, Maam.

Heres my church. She nodded toward Trinity Methodist.


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Oh Yeah? Were Episcopalian. Well, how do you like the car? Roland prodded. Shes

a beauty, but this is my first time getting a ride. Pretty special vehicle, dont you think?

As Polly turned left onto Eighth Street, she shook her head and smiled. She was my

husbands first child!

You mean?

Spencer used to polish the car the way I bathed our babies. She explained as she crossed

the railroad tracks into town.

You had a Mustang before?

Oh, forever, she said, turning right onto Railroad Boulevard. Its been to Charlotte

many a time, and now that Debbie has the baby, I just need to be there.

Debbie?

My daughter, you know, right around the corner from your parentson Mount Vernon?

Roland considered this. Where was Mount Vernon? My parents live on Sardis Oaks, off

Monroe Road. he said.

Have they moved? Oh, I hate to hear that. Its not too far, I hope.

Roland was convinced she had him totally confused with someone else, but he wanted her

to think about the car. Lets try the radio, he said. Ray told me he put in a new one. Its

completely new. He turned it on and found WJHO with a couple of D.J.s talking and laughing.

What do you like?

Why would Ray put in a new radio? There was nothing wrong with the old one. Id

rather just leave it off, she said. Its a lot of noise if you ask me.

He switched it off.

Look at that new burger place, she said, slowing as she passed Tylers to give the burger

joint a hard look. Somebodys always opening up a new burger place. Then by the Shell station,


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she added, Weve got a full gas tank. We dont even have to stop. Do you want a drink, though?

I could buy you something.

No thanks but get yourself something if you want. Roland didnt know what kind of gas

mileage the car got, so he thought hed better not try to discuss that. Then she turned left onto an

interstate ramp. He said, Well, I just learned something. I didnt know there was an freeway exit

here. I think this would be faster for me. Going back to the dorm, Ill try it.

The other ones too far out of town, she said. I always use this one.

As she sped up, eventually reaching the seventy-miles-per-hour speed limit, Roland

waited for her to comment on the car. So, what do you think? He was discouraged by her lack

of interest. Maybe she wouldnt buy after all. Do you like her?

She glanced at him. Elizabeth?

No, the car, he said with a grin. You like how she rides?

Oh, she said. I always have. Yes. Im crazy about the car.

So, this afternoon when Ray gets back, he can talk prices and all.

Are you considering buying one?

I wish, he said. My fraternity brothers would be impressed for sure.

Well, what if I drive us as far as Greenville, and then you drive a while. Spencer and I

always split up the drive. She grinned and glanced over at Roland. Of course, he drives two-

thirds the way and I just drive one. He always treats me like the weaker sex. Im not though.

Roland felt a tightening in his chest and he swallowed hard. Was there a Greenville Road?

She didnt mean Greenville? Uncertainty crept into his-eager-to-impress confidence. She wasnt

hoping to drive all the way to Greenville, South Carolina, was she? He studied her from the side,

with growing trepidation about her motives and intentions.

Wed better turn around, now, he suggested.

She seemed horrified. Why? Did you forget something?


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Its time to take the car back to Ray Everetts, I think. You can talk to him about the car

this afternoon.

Well, what time are your parents expecting us? she asked.

They arent. Roland sighed. They arent expecting us. Miss Polly? Dont you think

wed better go back now?

What are you missing? If its a toothbrush or something, Ill just buy you one.

Where exactly are you headed? he asked with dread.

To Charlotte, silly. Where do you think? And I dont mind if you drive part of the way,

but I really dont want to go back for anything unless we just have to.

Roland thought of his cell phone and for a second, he panicked as his hand reached for it

in his pocket. Not there. Jesus, Mary and Joseph. It was in his back-pack under Mr. Rays desk.

This could not be happening. He stared straight ahead at the long stretch of Interstate 85 down

which his parents had delivered him just three days ago. He just got here. He had no intention of

going back. The Mustang purred and Miss Polly kept it in the road, but that was not the problem.

Polly startled him out of deep thought. Your mothers shower is tomorrow, isnt it?

Roland took a deep breath and played along. No, I think you have the wrong day and you

must be mixed up about the place. Im sure its not in Charlotte. We just need to get back to Ray

Everetts. He can tell us where the shower is and how to get there.

Polly seemed irritated by this.

Weve already gone too far. No one is working the lot. I need to get back.

Polly pounded the steering wheel with her palm and began to cry. Everett doesnt care

about girl things. Hes not even going and he doesnt have time to take us anywhere. He has to

help his Daddy at the store, and theyre going fishing this weekend while the girls are having the

shower. Didnt your mother tell you?

Roland sighed, feeling the quicksand beneath him. Listen.


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Polly listened but Roland was afraid to speak, remembering his mothers great aunt who

did not know anyone in the family anymore and lived in a Nursing Home. How about that drink

you offered. Im parched. It would be really nice to stop for a drink. Roland sighed and gazed

out the window on his right where perfect rows of cornfields marched headlong off the line of the

horizon.

Can you just make it to Greenville? Its not that much farther.

No, Maam, I dont think I can. I need to make a pit stop too.

Well, then. I guess wed better find an exit where we can get off and on quick. We dont

want to be late and make everyone all worried.


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ROXANNE

Roxies fast and squealing tour of the city in the back of the police car was less than

satisfying. It was amazing speeding up those big hills waiting for the top and bouncing over with

a smooth take-off and a bumpy landingmuch more fun than watching it on TV where the

bounces were exciting, but also one-dimensional. She'd eaten too much dim sum, and it appeared

that she was in pretty big trouble, because they never cut off the siren. She knew that Dottie

wherever she was would tell her what to do. It would all work out. It had to if Dottie was her

guardian angel and guide.

Her cabbie, who arrived soon after her entourage at the police station, had reported his cab

stolen right under his nose by a homeless man that hung out on Grant.

He met the officer in charge with, Hey, this young girl fought off the bandit and saved my

cab. He turned to Roxie. Thank you senorita, and look. He showed her that her lock-box was

still tied in the trunk.

I thought he stole the cab to get the box, Roxie said, confiding, Its worth more than the

car.

So, what are you doing with something that valuable on the street? he asked when they had

finished signing papers and exited the station.

Im here to meet a dealer.

Drugs? he assumed.

She glared with intention. Hell no! A collector.

Collector of what?

Thats all Im telling you. Roxie turned her head. I dont know you from Adam.

I just saved your hide, he said. Youre not being very smart about some things and maybe

you could use a little help.

That was just to get your cab back, Roxie protested. You didnt do it for me.

Youre a cocky little thing, he said with a shake of his head. So you are still going to the


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Wharf?

To Beach Street just like I told you.

Its a long street, he said with exaggerated patience.

Wait a minute, she said, pulling a folded paper from her wallet. Its on here.

He read her notes and said, Well you can forget that till tomorrow. I know the place and its

only open by appointment. You need to call and make an appointment. Did you think you could

just show up?

Roxie deflated. I guess. She refused to cry.

Hey, the cabbie said. My name is Juan. I will take you back to your hotel for free. My

company will understand since you almost went to jail for my cab. He winked. Then tomorrow,

if you call me after you get an appointment I will take you to the dealer.

Thats very nice of you. Roxie took a deep breath then remembered to shoot him a

suspicious look. My Dad said I would get shot if I came here.

Juan laughed and with a shrug said, Well, the way youre flaunting that box and trying to

act like a movie star it would not surprise me. He opened the door and ushered her outside.

Okay, so back in the cab.

Like starting all over. In a moment of weakness, Roxie felt like a child and was grateful

that the cabbie was a nice person-seemed to be, that is.

A better start next time. Juan closed her in and took the drivers seat. Where are you from

anyway?

Im from North Carolina, in the mountains, a small town called West Jefferson. I doubt

youve ever heard of it.

No, but I bet its a nice place. As he made the way through San Francisco, Juan pointed out

landmarks and neighborhoods. He topped one hill where city lay out before them. This is the

famous Lombardy Street, he said snaking down.

Not on the police route, Roxie was thrilled by the view, but mostly relieved to have

someone to talk to.


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No, I just thought you needed to see it.

Back at the hotel, after Juan had brought her case back inside, she thanked him and took his

card with a phone number to call when she had an appointment. My sister didnt tell me I had to

have an appointment. She said just go there. I guess it makes sense though, Roxie admitted.

Thanks for telling me and for bringing me back.

Sure, I have two little girls of my own and if they have to go far away at your age, I would

want someone to do the same for them.

Roxie smiled though inside she felt an ache, a deep sadness in that place in her heart where

her sister lived because once there had been two daughters and now there was only one. They

are lucky girls. Good-night, then. See you tomorrow, I hope. She smiled and turned toward the

revolving door where she re-entered the lobby with the large black rolling box which had become

such a ball and chain, but she thought, Dottie, its okay. I will still do it.

That night she tossed and turned, dreaming of being shot and bleeding all over the street and

cop cars with flashing lights and being closed up in a cell with the loud clank of the bars locking

her in resounding over and over. She sat up in bed repeatedly, searching the room for the black

box and seeing the monster in the corner returned to dreaming but Dottie was not there.

Documents

Running With the Treasure