The Hidden Treasure

The squeaks from Mark Oulette’s shoes were the only sound on the shiny floor as he walked the quiet darkened hallway of Brownville Hospital. The woman on the phone he presumed a nurse struggled to pronounce his name. “Mr. Sylvain Oulette?” “Actually I go by Mark, but go on.” “Well, I’m calling about your father Mr. Guy Oulette” she read from his father’s chart. “It’s pronounced Gee.” He corrected her. “Ahh, she said trying to correct her error, my name is Brenda Henry, I’m the team leader on this floor.  She then went on to say in her quiet professional but matter-of-fact tone that he was dying and it was his wish to see him one last time. She gave him the directions as to where he could be found and suggested that he not wait too long.

He pushed open the door to the room, and tried to tip-toe in but, his shoes betrayed him, he stood still until his eyes had adjusted to the near darkness with the exception of the small glow from a bedside lamp. The bed seemed to engulf the small figure that lay on it as he strained to see if that really was his father. As he neared the bed his father’s head turned. “Is that you Mark?” “Yes.” “I’m glad. I hoped that you’d come there are some things I want to tell you.”

Mark pulled a chair close to the bed and sat down, his back to the door. The man in the bed was a stranger to him, they hadn’t been on the best of terms and it was over five years since they last saw each other, at his mother’s funeral, and things didn’t go well then.

“I have something that I need to tell you Mark before I die.” He started to cough and pointed to a glass of water on the table. Mark stood and walked around the bed and put the straw to his father’s lips. His sips were bird-like, barely enough to wet his lips. As he held the glass, Mark took in his father’s shape. Never a big man, he now lies shriveled on the bed, his once full round face hollow and sunken and his eyes closed. He remembered his hands as strong and powerful, now almost child-like in their size. A lump rose in his throat as he took in this shell of a man that had once been his father. A slight wave of his hand told Mark he no longer wanted the water. He sat the glass back on the stand and returned to his chair.

“Do you remember the time back in ‘61’? When I went away for a month?” Mark thought back to that time and he nodded his head. He was 10 then and was mad that his dad had up and left him and his pregnant mother.

“I guess you were pretty steamed at me and I know that your Mother’s family were mad as hell thinking that I’d walked out on you and her, and she being pregnant and all. But, it all turned out alright in the end didn’t it? I mean things go a bit easier with the money I’d made.”

His voice had gotten raspy. “It’s okay Dad, it is all water under the bridge now, but what did you want to tell me?”

“That’s what I’m tryin’ to tellya, back in ’61 me ‘n 3 other fellas we robbed a bank. We had it all planned out went to a small town ‘n waited until dark. We got in, ‘n hid until morning when the workers showed up. We locked them all in the safe after we had got the money out, then we took off ‘n well it sorta didn’t go so well.”

Mark sat back stunned at what he’d just heard. “Nah, Dad I think you’re getting mixed up with some news story from back then.”

“No!!! That’s what I’m tryin’ to tell ya, it was me ‘n the boys that done that.” “What are you saying that you were the ones that robbed that bank back then?” Mark couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “Yup ‘n cept for a few bills we split the money ‘n hid the rest, well it was Jackie’s job to hide it. “You mean Uncle Jackie, your brother?” ‘Ya but, he never told us where the stupid son of a –“okay I get it,” Mark said putting his hand up to stop him as he was getting wound up and his coughing had started again.

Mark stood up and ran his fingers through his hair; “I’m going to get a coffee Dad, I’ll be right back.” “Okay” came a feeble reply from the bed. Outside the room the air was cooler, the hallway was still empty and Mark wandered back toward the elevators and found vending machines offering everything from soup to nuts, but he was only interested in the coffee. As he put his money in and watched the machine an empty coffee cup dropped down and filled with the hot liquid, he tried to get his head around what he had just heard. When the machine stopped he stooped down, pulled the cup from the holder, walked to a counter that held condiments and lids when he reached for one and put it on, mindless of what was doing he gave the steaming coffee a swirl. The lid popped off and the hot coffee slopped out onto his hand

 “Damn it, fool, pay attention to what you are doing.” He chided himself as he wiped his wet hand on his pants.

When he entered the still darkened room he saw a figure bending over his father, it was a nurse. “Any change?” Mark asked. “No, he’s resting that’s all, his breathing is getting shallow.” “What does that mean?” “He’s slowing down, that’s all.” He noticed her pat his dad’s hand as she straightened his covers. “Call us, if you need anything, that bell pinned to his bed rings at the desk.” She walked quietly to the door and left.

“Dad? I’m back.” “Mfff.” he moaned. Mark took his seat again and studied the man in the bed. He had just put the coffee cup to his lips when his dad started to talk again. “Jackie, Jackie, what did ya have to go do that for? We said no killing, now there’s a better chance of us hangin’ ‘stead of just goin’ to jail if we’re caught.” Mark leaned in. “Dad, what did you just say?” “Mfffgt”. “Dad hang on, come back to me, I didn’t understand what you said.” “Water, I need water,” he mumbled. Mark put his cup on the floor and went to the table and picked up the glass. He walked around the bed and put the straw to his lips again. He opened his eyes and looked past Mark.

“Jackie? Is that you? What are you doing here? Remember Mark? He’s all grown up now, I was just tellin’ him bout the money.” “Dad Uncle Jackie’s dead, who are you talking to?” ‘No he ain’t he’s right there, aren’t ya Jackie?” he asked as he raised his stick-thin arm and waved. Mark wasn’t sure now what to believe. Would his uncle be standing there if he turned around? He’s heard of dead relatives coming back and it was only when a shiver ran down his spine that he forced himself to look. No one there but the privacy curtain swayed slightly, must be a breeze Mark thought as there was no one else in the room but the two of them.

“Oh, that’s where ya buried it is it? Nope would never have thought to look under that old tree.” “Buried? Buried what Dad? The money, is that what you’re talking about? Where is it?” he asked a little more eagerly than he intended.

He was fading and knew it,  he motioned for Mark to come closer, not wanting to miss what he was saying as his voice had weakened and was almost inaudible he leaned in. “Uncle Jackie just whispered in my ear, I’ll tellya where the loots buried.” Mark’s dad struggled for air as he continued. Mark held his own breath as he waited. “You’ll be rich Mark, but you know it’s tainted, blood money. A girl died for it, but it’s there if you want it. “It’s buried, it’s buried.” Mark almost wanted to shake the frail man to make him say where. Finally, he garbled out, “it’s buried under the old chestnut tree at the back of the cemetery, right Jackie? I’ve kept it a secret all these years Mark, can you? Okay, okay Jackie I’m comin.”

 A cold shiver ran down Mark’s spine, as he looked over his shoulder, not sure if anyone was there he got a faint whiff of a cigar and recalled his Uncle Jackie’s love of them. Nah, he thought as the curtain moved in the airless room again. He saw how calm and peaceful his father’s face had become, and he knew.

 Mark reached past his father’s body and pushed the call bell. “He’s gone”, is all he said into the speaker.”