After her grandfather’s death, thirty-something Evie steals a map from his home. The map is a principal lead to where a box of ten-dollar gold coins was buried during Prohibition, just before the Revenuers raided her great-grandfather’s illegal rum-running business out on Long Island.
Evie, along with her teenaged daughter, Cindy, collects other clues, staying just a step or two ahead of her brothers, who are also after the treasure. Her search is complicated when one of the old-timers in the little town on Peconic Bay is murdered. As Evie desperately tries to track down key information to make the map work, she elicits the help of a local bartender and then that of Max, an old boyfriend. Getting rich is not easy.
Evie stood in the darkened hospital room. She watched the monitors that showed the old man’s weakening condition.
“They should have a bar in this place,” she said to the shrunken face that was topped by just one persistent wisp of white hair. “Come on, Grandad, let’s get it over.”
Evie was in her late thirties. She had mid-length brown hair that was as rumpled as the T-shirt and worn jeans she had on.
The old man made a slight sound, possibly a moan.
Evie looked more closely at the monitor. All the lines seemed to be continuing the same.
“Date?” the old man suddenly asked.
Evie hadn’t thought the old man had the strength to speak so loud.
“What…date?” he asked, this time a little weaker.
“Today is August 5, 1983,” Evie told him. “You should be sleeping. It’s after your bedtime.”
“No.” The old man was insistent. “The day…the raid…?”
Evie knew what he was talking about. “The day the revenuers raided the oyster house on Long Island,” she said. It had always been a major event of his life. “That was a long time ago, Grandpa.”
“The map…” Her grandfather was almost breathless.
Evie bent down to bring her ear closer to his lips. The strength behind his voice was fading quickly.
“Behind the picture of the old man…”
Then there was a long silence. She heard only the sounds of the machinery that was trying to sustain his life. Evie glanced back up at the monitor. She couldn’t tell what the changed readings meant.
Then she looked back down. The closed eyes had never opened. Now, no more sound came from the face among the pillows and tubes.
“Behind the picture of the old man,” Evie repeated softly. “Thank you, Grandaddy. I know exactly where you mean.” She pictured the portrait of his father that hung in the living room of his Manhattan apartment. “So that’s where the secret’s been kept all these years.”
Evie glanced back in the direction of the door. No one seemed to be around. She moved quickly forward to the night table by the bed and slid open the top drawer. She put her hand in and felt around over the old man’s wallet and glasses case. She found his ring of keys and transferred them quickly to the side pocket of her jeans.
As she slid shut the drawer and backed away, the monitor started to flash and beep. Evie stared at the readings, trying to understand what they meant.
A nurse hurried into the room. “You’ll have to leave,” she said. Then she looked around to a second staff member who was entering the room. “Get the cart, stat.”
Evie got herself quickly out the door of the room and hurried down the hall. There was a waiting area near the entrance to the wing, and she pushed open the door and went in. Her fifteen-year-old daughter, Cindy, had been the only occupant of the room. She sat slumped in one of the uncomfortable chairs, reading a Seventeen magazine.