Already Gone Page 11

  Sumantra: It would appear that way.

  Namaste: You said that Marjorie and I have been together in past lives?

  Sumantra: Most assuredly. Many times.

  N. How is it that we keep meeting each other over and over again? Is it pure coincidence?

  S. Triggers Namaste. Triggers.

  N. What?

  S. In the afterlife, the two of you planned to be born again into the same time periods but in different places. You left triggers or bread crumbs if you will, to assist you in finding each other. Much like leaving marks on a tree to find your way out of a forest.

  In the current lifetime, you placed a trigger to meet at college at USC. But you decided at the last minute to attend UC Davis instead. Another trigger was mutually set at the company where your father works. But you went on to a life of gambling, ignoring his request to join the firm.

  Marjorie applied there for a position in marketing but wasn't offered a job. She then took a vacation to Hawaii, found work at the Hiwakulani and decided to stay. One more trigger was placed at a later date in your lives.

  Your meeting at the Hiwakulani, however, was pure chance.

  N. Pure chance? Another synchronicity?

  S. Yes. Isn't life marvelous?

  ≈≈≈≈≈≈

  With big hair and eyeliner, Ramone looked like he was on his way to a Bon Jovi concert circa 1984. With skull and crossbones stickers on the steering wheel and black bandanas tied around the rearview mirror, the taxi itself was a throwback to the eighties.

  "Why are we following this car, boss?" Ramone said as he pulled out into traffic. "Cut the small talk, pal, and just drive," Roy Dunn said from the rear seat. "Keep your eye on that Corolla but stay back. Can't have her notice that we're following." "You got it, boss, long as I'm being paid for wait time on this jaunt," Ramone replied.

  "Where the fuck is she going now?" Dunn said to himself as Cracker pulled into a parking lot off Bishop Street. He'd tailed her to Billingsley's home and now back to the downtown business district.

  Parking her Corolla, Dunn watched as she entered Rum Jungle. Cracker found Marcus and Willy at their usual table in the rear of the club, drinks in hand. "Hi doll," she said to Marcus putting her arm around his waist. "Miss me?"

  "You know it," Marcus replied with a smile. "We getting together later?" he asked hopefully. "Can't tonight, sweetie,” Cracker replied. “After this, I'm going to go to The Glade. I've been neglecting my business there. Why don't you come to my house tomorrow night? We could spend the weekend together." "What about Roy?" Marcus asked. "He'll be restricted to base then,” she replied. “Some military exercise or something. Lasts a few days. He won't bother us."

  Chili Jam, the house Red Hot Chili Peppers tribute band, fired up on the stage as the waiter poured Cracker a drink. Easing in and watching from the bar, Roy Dunn wished he could hear their conversation. He considered moving closer to their table but was afraid they would spot him. Instead, he asked the bartender if he knew the old guy in the frayed ball cap.

  "Yea, his name's Willy. He comes here often. Would you like to meet him?" "No, that's alright," Roy responded. "Just curious, that's all." Looking up and surveying the room Willy asked Cracker if he could have the recorder. "Sure can," she replied removing the device from her purse and hitting play.

  This is Doctor Peter Billingsley. It is August 2nd, 2014 5: 45 in the afternoon. My subject is Miss Virginia McCracken of Pearl City, Hawaii. This is our third session. I have induced a deep hypnotic trance state, and Virginia is resting comfortably on the couch in my study.

  "Cut to the chase Willy. Let's hear Cracker," Marcus said. "I'm getting there," Willy replied as he fast forwarded the recording.

  "Virginia, you will be able to remember everything, every experience you ever had as Frank James. Go to a significant event in the mid years of your life."

  "I'm in jail. But I have books, comfortable chairs, good food and visitors surrounding me. I'm not being treated like a dangerous criminal."

  "Why are you in jail?"

  "I surrendered to escape the hangman's noose."

  "What are you accused of?"

  "Robbery and murder. I am to go on trial today. I am being moved to an opera house to stand trial. It is a circus in here. The room is packed. Folks are jammed up outside peering in the windows. The gallery to my right is the jury box. Some jurors are smiling at me, and one winks. I'm told they are sympathetic to the vanquished South, which may be beneficial to me since I rode with Quantrill."

  "You fought for the Confederates during the Civil War?"

  "Yes. But I'm not on trial for that. I'm on trial for crimes committed in Missouri."

  "What year is it?"

  "Not sure. Late 1800's probably."

  "What town are you in?"

  "Somewhere in Missouri."

  "Is your brother on trial also?"

  "Jesse? No. I don't see him."

  "What is happening now?"

  "Arguing and shouting and foot stomping. The judge is banging a gavel. My attorney is shouting at the prosecutor. It looks like I'm going to be acquitted. I'm walking out of the building. Some people are clapping and slapping me on the back. It is sweltering and dusty. Everything is happening quickly. My attorney is pushing me towards a saloon across the street. We are going there to celebrate. I'm a free man."

  "Are you tired?"

  "No."

  "Would you like to continue?"

  "Yes."

  "Move back now to a prior significant event in your life."

  "My brother is dead. He has been shot."

  "Your brother, Jesse James?"

  "Yes."

  "Did you see this happen?"

  "No. I am being told that it happened. He was shot in the back."

  "Who shot him?"

  "Bob Ford."

  "Where did this occur?"

  "In Jesse's house. Saint Joe, Missouri."

  "When did this happen?"

  "A few days ago. I'm just hearing it now."

  "How do you feel about this?"

  "Sad. He was my younger brother. We rode together."

  "Are you sure it was your brother Jesse who was killed?"

  "I'm being told that. It's in the newspaper too."

  "Where are you right now?"

  "In a dry goods store. I must work here. People are coming in to tell me about Jesse."

  "Do you know the date?"

  "April 6, 1882, is the date on the paper."

  "What town are you in?"

  "Dallas."

  "Dallas, Texas?"

  "Yes."

  "Would you like to continue?"

  "No. Not now. I want to rest."

  "Remarkable," Willy said as he switched off the recorder. "This all fits in with the period. Frank James' first trial for robbery was held in Gallatin, Missouri in 1883. History notes that he was acquitted. Later in life, Frank held a number of jobs including clerking at a shoe store, as a race starter and as a doorman at a burlesque theater."

  “Bob Ford shot Jesse in the back of the head in April of 1882 while Jesse was hanging a picture on the wall of his home in Saint Joseph, Missouri. He and his brother Charlie Ford collected a reward of $10,000 for killing Jesse."

  "Well, I guess that does it for Albrecht's theory," Marcus remarked. "Most likely," Willy replied. "Let's wait and see what happens next. We're still not any closer to finding out where the gold bullion is buried." "When do you meet Billingsley again?" Willy asked turning towards Cracker. "Monday afternoon. Doctor Pete's tied up this weekend," she replied.

  "Let's hold our next meeting at another location. I suggest Angus O'Tooles off Moana by Diamond Head," Willy added. "What's wrong with this place?" Cracker asked. "I rather like it here."

  "Nothing I just like to move around a bit. Monday night at nine?"

  * * *

  Chapter Nine

  Angus O'Toole's

  MONDAY AFTERNOON Tisdale phoned the Hiwakulani and asked for Marjorie Remick. "Sh
e's off today, may I help you with anything sir?" the voice on the other end answered. "Give me Holly Sullivan then," Tisdale responded.

  After a brief wait, Holly answered, "Holly Sullivan, may I help you?" "Miss Sullivan, this is Andrew Tisdale. I spoke to you at your home a few days ago." "You again?" she responded angrily. "What do you want?"

  "Miss Sullivan, I have the feeling you weren't completely forthright with me about Boggs and Reno. I need to know where they're currently staying." "I've no idea," she replied. "Oh, I think you do, Miss Sullivan. So unless you want me to come over to the hotel and raise a ruckus, you'll tell me."

  After a short pause, Holly asked, "Where are you right now, Tisdale?" "Close by. The Silver Star. A dive bar on King Street," he replied. "I'll be there in fifteen minutes,” Holly exploded hanging up the phone angrily.

  The Silver Star Night Club is just steps away from the hustle and chaos of Waikiki but worlds removed. Students and hipsters make the bar a home away from home. The real draw at The Star is a rooftop terrace for beholding the movement of bikinied bodies on Ala Moana Boulevard. Holly arrived right on time.

  "Have a seat, Holly," Tisdale said. "What are you drinking?" "I'm not," she replied while remaining standing. "And I'm not staying either. Willy was staying at a motel called The Pagoda. I've no idea where Marcus is. I haven't seen or spoken to either one of them since they left my condo."

  "What about a Virginia McCracken? Heard of her?" Tisdale asked. "Yes. She worked tending bar at the hotel for a few months. I've heard that she’s now working somewhere on The Naval Base on Pearl. That's all I'm saying, Tisdale. I want no further part of you, Willy or Marcus. Understand?"

  "Got it. Thanks, honey."

  ≈≈≈≈≈≈

  Angus O'Toole's, a popular Irish joint, dishes out steak and kidney pie, fish and chips, Irish stew and lamb chops to a boisterous crowd. It's a towering two-story affair with long bars, pool tables, and a live music stage. Come night time, the live music kicks on and the place turns into the most popular Irish bar on Oahu.

  Willy was chatting up one of the waitresses when Cracker and Marcus arrived. "Enjoy your weekend?" he said as they sat down. "Very much," Cracker responded, squeezing Marcus' hand. "Where have you been, my boy?" Willy asked. "I expected you hours ago."

  "I went with Cracker for her appointment. Stayed in the car and waited while she was in with Billingsley. This guy must be loaded Willy. Gated community. The house and grounds are amazing. Took a walk around the neighborhood. I was stopped twice by security asking what I was doing."

  "How did the session go?" Willy asked. "I heard part of the tape on the drive back. We're getting closer Willy," Marcus responded. "Let's hear it," Willy replied anxiously as Marcus placed the recorder on the table.

  This is Doctor Peter Billingsley. It is August 5th, 2014 5:10 in the afternoon. My subject is Miss Virginia McCracken of Pearl City, Hawaii. This is our fourth session. I have induced a deep hypnotic trance state, and Virginia is resting comfortably on the couch in my study.

  “Where are you now Virginia?”

  "I am in a house. I think it's mine. My mother is here. My wife is here."

  "What is your mother's name?"

  "Zerelda."

  "What are you doing?"

  "Sitting at a table having a conversation."

  "Can you relate the conversation to me?"

  "My mother is saying that I should visit Jesse's grave. She moved his body to the family farm. He is buried in the front yard. My wife is saying we will visit soon."

  "Does Zerelda live there with you?"

  "No. It appears that she’s just here for a visit. She came by train."

  "What else are they talking about?"

  "She is cursing Bob and Charlie Ford and someone named Dick Liddell. She is saying that God will send vengeance on them for killing Jesse. My wife is asking how Mimms' children are doing."

  "Who is Mimms?"

  "She was Jesse's wife. My mother says as well as can be expected. They are living with Mimms’ brother in Kansas City. Young son, Jesse Jr. went to work to support him and his sister Mary. She is saying that before her death Mimms was offered money to provide personal info about Jesse to be published in books and magazines but she wouldn't do that."

  "When did Mimms die?"

  "1900 I think. Dinner is being placed on the table. The conversation stopped."

  "Go to the very next significant event in your life."

  "I am at a telegraph office. I am reading a telegram."

  "What does it say?"

  "My mother is dead. She passed away on a train. My wife is with her. The telegram is from my wife, Annie."

  "Where were they going?"

  "To Kansas City to visit Jesse's son and daughter. She had just been to see us for a visit."

  "What town are you in?"

  "Fletcher, Oklahoma."

  "Do you know the date?"

  "February 11, 1911, is the date on the telegram. She died yesterday."

  “What is happening now?”

  “Nothing more. I’m just looking at the telegram.”

  "Go forward now to the next significant event in your life."

  "I see a mountain. It's close by. I am on horseback."

  "Do you live nearby?"

  "A day's ride I think."

  "What are you doing?"

  "Looking for something."

  "Looking for what?"

  "A ravine I think. I have been here before."

  "When?"

  "Many years ago."

  "Why did you return?"

  "To retrieve something. I'm looking for a trail leading up the mountain to a ravine. I recognize the area. Jesse and I were here. It was winter then."

  "What did the two of you do there?"

  "I'm not sure, but I appear to be searching for something we left there. We were with others then."

  "Who?"

  "Not sure."

  "What did you leave there?"

  "I don't know. It must be important."

  "Can you determine the date?"

  "No."

  "The location?"

  "Somewhere outside Cement. I was there earlier in the day."

  "Cement, Oklahoma?"

  "Yes."

  "What are you doing now?"

  "I'm on foot. Climbing up a steep limestone cliff. The top of a knoll is 30 feet or so above. I'm stooping down brushing dirt off large rocks. I seem to be searching for a particular stone. I see a large moss covered rock surrounded by Beech and Elm trees. I'm bending over inspecting the stone. Now I'm looking at a pair of crossed rifles cut into the rock face. The guns are pointing in an Easterly direction. I'm walking away from the rock looking at the surrounding trees. I seem to be inspecting each tree trunk searching for something. I've found an old weathered horseshoe nailed to the trunk of one of the trees. There are some letters cut into the tree below the horseshoe."

  "What are the letters?"

  "An M an O and a Y."

  "Do you know what these mean?"

  "No idea."

  "What are you doing now?"

  "I'm making a camp site. It's getting dark. I think I'm preparing to spend the night here.

  "Would you like to continue?"

  "I think not it's getting dark. Nothing else is happening."

  "Now we're onto something," Willy said excitedly. "Zerelda James died in February 1911 while on a train headed to Oklahoma City. She’d just come from visiting Frank and his family in Fletcher, Oklahoma. Frank's wife Annie was with Zerelda when she died. I don't know the date that Jesse's wife Mimms died, but we can verify that later if needed. I'm not sure who Dick Liddell is either, but I'll look that up as well."

  "Frank and his wife lived in Fletcher from 1907 until 1912. During that period, it's a sure bet that Frank spent long days and nights searching for the gold he and Jesse buried in the Wichita Mountains. Locals claimed that he did recover $6000 near Cement, Oklahoma, but that was just pocket change. I'm betting that what
Cracker saw was one of Frank's hunts for the gold. He was known to have worn out half a dozen horses over the years looking for the treasure."

  "The waybills I've seen state that in 1876 Jesse placed a carving of a pair of crossed rifles cut deeply into a rock at the foot of buzzard's roost. The barrel of one pointed east to an aged tree, on which were etched the letters M, O and, below the letter Y. Beneath the carvings was a mule shoe nailed into the trunk."

  "Additionally, Jesse buried a brass bucket called a banty bank with a chiseled inscription listing the names of the bandits who hid the gold. Treasure lore has it that he also left clues to the buried gold's location on the bucket."

  "Reportedly a man named Hunter uncovered the bucket in 1934 while scouring the Wichita Mountains. He didn't realize that the bucket carried a map inscription leading to the treasure. He sold it to persons unknown in Texas. Apparently the Texans stopped payment on the check they gave Hunter for the bucket. Hunter chased them down and recovered it. The story goes that he spent the next ten or so years searching for the treasure. He never found a thing. The bucket has since vanished."

  "If Hunter found the bucket in 1934 it would have still been there in Frank's time. It looks like Frank didn't find it. He did, however, locate the crossed rifles carving and the mule shoe. Since over 100 years have passed, that carving has most likely worn away or been removed by some treasure hunter."

  "What exactly is the treasure Frank is looking for?" Cracker asked. Willy smiled and turned his head towards her. "The story goes that in 1876 in Chihuahua, Mexico, Jesse and Frank with ten members of their gang surprised a detail of Mexicans driving a burro train carrying two million dollars in gold bullion. They led the pack train across the Rio Grande and through the Texas plains. Their goal was to reach Indian Territory, an area familiar to both Jesse and Frank. When they reached the Wichita Mountains, they were hit by a blinding blizzard. For the next three days, they moved through snow almost two feet thick."

  "When the mules and horses could go no further, Jesse and Frank decided to bury the gold. At the head of a dry creek, they hid the gold bars and coins. Jesse left three signs marking the location of the treasure, a burro shoe nailed into the bark of a tree, a carving of crossed rifles cut deeply into rock with the barrel of one pointing east to an old tree and on the tree he carved the letters M. O. and below the letter Y. Jesse also buried the chiseled brass bucket, but I'm of the opinion that it was buried elsewhere on the mountain."