Free The Collectibles by James J. Kaufman Page B

you remember the guide’s name?” Larry asked.
    â€œIt could have been Howard . . . or maybe Harold . . . I’m not sure.”
    â€œDid this Howard have a last name?”
    â€œI’m sorry but I have been racking my brain trying to think of his name. It was a long time ago.” Preston said.
    â€œWould ya know it if ya heard it?” Larry asked.
    â€œI don’t know,” Preston answered, growing more frustrated by the minute. “Also, the attorney we are trying to find is sometimes called ‘Cap,’ perhaps because he was in the Navy.”
    â€œHow about Howard Buckingham?” Larry asked.
    Preston thought for a while and then said, excitement lighting his voice, “Yes, I believe that was it, now that I hear the name. It was a long time ago, but I think I do remember the name Buckingham because he told my father and me we could call him ‘Buck.’”
    â€œWhat was your dad’s name?” Larry asked.
    â€œPeter Wilson,” Preston said, thinking how odd it was that he had never thought of referring to his father as “Dad.”
    â€œWhen were you and your dad huntin’ up here? What year?” Larry asked.
    â€œWell, I was fifteen. That was thirty years ago.”
    â€œAnd you think Buck was the guide for you and your dad?” Larry asked.
    â€œI think so.”
    â€œWait here a minute, help yourself to the coffee on the side stand. I wanna check the book upstairs,” Larry said, and limped up the stairway at the side of the room by the fireplace.
    Preston fell into the large, leather, winged-back chair while Casey poured himself a cup of strong coffee and flipped the pages of a hunting magazine. Preston assumed that Casey was wondering what in hell they were doing up here and whether they were on a wild goose chase. He regretted that he’d blown up at Casey in the car about the chasing rainbows remark. He knew what haunted him had nothing to do with Casey, who had always been a good friend. His thoughts were interrupted by Larry clunking down the stairs.
    â€œWell, we have a policy against intrudin’ in this club. It’s private, ya understand? But seein’ as you and your father actually met Buck and been huntin’ these hills with him before, I reckon Joe would think it’s okay to talk to you like this.”
    â€œThen you do know Mr. Hart?”
    â€œSure do. He’s one of us.”
    â€œCan you find him?”
    â€œWhat do you mean, find him?”
    â€œWell, do you know where he is at this time, and can you tell us, so we can go to him and talk with him?”
    â€œI know he came up here a few days ago. I know he was planning to go up into the hills for a while. I don’t know where he was going to go. He didn’t tell me and I didn’t ask. So no, I don’t know where he is in particular, but he’s no doubt out there somewhere.”
    â€œHow can we find him?”
    â€œYou probably can’t. You could wait around here till he comes out and then he probably will get in touch with me or need provisions from Sarah. You could see if he would talk to you then. He probably would.”
    â€œLook, this is really important to us. We’ve got to find him. Do you think we could hire a plane and pilot or a helicopter and find him that way?”
    â€œI doubt it,” Larry said. “We’re talking a lot of land here. The State Park alone has six million acres. Actually we don’t think of it as acres. It’s miles and miles of wilderness and wild country. The woods are thick, heavy. You ain’t gonna see much from the air, and that’s on a good day. How you gonna tell who you see from the air anyway, even if you saw a man or a group of people? It just ain’t practical.”
    Casey suggested to Preston that they take a break, get some coffee, and talk it over. Larry invited them into the kitchen of the big lodge and showed them where the coffee