Once Upon a Time in My Life

$50 Gone

$50 Gone

When I was in my late 30s, my wife, at the time, and I bought a house in the little community of Steady Brook.

At that time, the collection of hockey cards was enjoying a huge comeback. 

Just before Christmas I made a deal with a guy to buy some of my hockey cards.

I had quite a collection of cards from the late 60’s and early 70’s and I also had my Dad’s collection from the early 50’s.

I had been approached by a collector from Port-aux-Basque, who was interested in buying some of the hockey cards, especially from the 1950’s.

We spent several hours bartering and trading and by the time he left, he had purchased $950 dollars worth of cards from me, which he paid for in all $50 bills. All brand new $50 dollar bills. 

A friend of mine, who was also a collector, was there with us.

I took $400 out for my Dad’s share, left the other $550 on the kitchen table and headed out the door, to bring Dad his share. I picked up my wife from work and we went to Dad’s. My friend, left also to drive home.

The weather was bad so rather than risk driving home that night, we stayed at Mom and Dad’s and went home in the morning.

After shovelling out my driveway, I went into the house, opened a beer and picked up the money off the kitchen table. For whatever reason, I counted it.

There was only $500.

I asked my wife about it. She said she had not touched the money and in all honesty had not even noticed it on the kitchen table as she had went directly to the bedrooms to start doing laundry.

My first reaction was the cats, as the money did look like it had been moved. I searched all over the floor, under the table, with no results. So I went through the living room and bedrooms, thinking one of them may have played with it.

Still nothing.

The basement did not yield a $50 bill either.

My next thought was my buddy. As much as I didn’t want to think such a thing, what else could I think?

I decided to look one more time around the table and kitchen.

I counted the money again.

Still $500.

I put the money away in my bedroom and was about to call my buddy when my doorbell rang. It was a couple of my friends with beer and guitars.

The call would have to wait.

It was the next afternoon before I decided to make the call. I counted the money one more time and again took a look under the kitchen table and around the kitchen.

Mt wife joined in the search, with no money to be found anywhere.

Nothing. Absolutely nothing.

I picked up the phone and dialled the number. Just as my buddy answered, I walked past the kitchen table, for the hundredth time in the last few days.

There on the floor, next to one of the chair legs, was the $50 bill, still folded, just as though it had been peeled off the wad of bills the guy had paid me with.

I apologized to my buddy, saying I had called his number in error and hung up the phone.

I picked up the $50 bill. It was perfect, just like all the others. Not a mark on it. No cat bites, nothing.

I called out to my wife and showed her.

She just shook her head.

“I just vacuumed under the table. I think I would have noticed a $50 dollar bill.”

I went to the drawer where the other bills were. They were all in sequence.

It was the missing $50 bill.

It was the start of a series of events that would entertain and scare us for the next two years that we lived in the house.