Jackson Lamont walked into the Parsons Pond Club.
"What a fucking dump," he muttered under his breath.
"Can Ise help youse?" the woman behind the bar offered.
Jackson walked to the bar.
"Beer."
"What kind?"
"Doesn't matter," he answered, uninterested, as he looked around the bar.
The woman put the beer on the bar.
"Dat'll be five bucks."
Lamont dropped a ten dollar bill on the bar, still not looking at the woman.
"Keep the change."
The woman smiled, showing badly yellowed teeth.
"Youse not from 'round here."
Jackson sipped the beer.
"Is it that obvious?"
"Youse lost?"
Jackson shook his head.
"Looking for someone."
"Whose youse lookin' fer?"
"Calvin Parsons."
The woman pointed to a table, at the far end of the bar.
"Calvin bes down dere. Best go quick 'fore 'es too drunk to makes any sense."
Jackson looked at the old clock, over the bar.
"Its only eleven o'clock."
"'e gots a late start dis mornin', but Ise sure 'e will makes up fer it."
Jackson pulled a twenty dollar bill from his pocket.
"Bring another round to the table. I have to talk to Calvin."
Jackson walked through the empty bar and stood near the table.
Calvin Parsons looked up.
"Who the fuck are you?"
Jackson sat at the table, as the woman put a couple beer on the table.
"Will dere bes anyting else?"
Jackson shook his head.
"I'll call you."
He looked at Calvin.
"So this is how the mighty act, when they fuck up."
Calvin sipped his beer.
"I will ask again. Who the fuck are you?"
"I am your new business partner."
Calvin laughed and finished his beer.
"What business?"
"The business of gold, Calvin."
Calvin sat back in his chair.
"What gold?"
"Tuckamore Bay gold. The gold that you and my idiot ex son-in-law, were supposed to secure for me."
"I don't know you and I sure as fuck don't know your son-in-law."
"Does the name, Simon Hirst ring a bell?"
Calvin's expression never changed.
"Look mister, whoever the fuck you are."
"Lamont. My name is Jackson Lamont."
"Well Jackson Lamont. I don't know you and I don't know any Simon Hirst."
Jackson smiled and leaned on the table.
"Look, you stupid fuck. Your stupidity lost you your political career. Look at you now. Sitting in this shitty bar, in the middle of fuck-knows, Newfoundland, drowning your sorrows in beer that tastes like piss.
Now. I am offering you an opportunity, to get some of your dignity back and in the same breath, get back at those that put you here.
Namely Bill Williams and Matty Dove."
"Pricks."
Calvin slammed the beer bottle on the table, causing it to foam over.
"They ruined me. Them and that fuck, Daniel Best."
"Well, wouldn't you like to get a chance to get them back and in the process, get rich."
Calvin looked toward the bar.
"Betsy, bring a couple more beer and a rag to clean up this mess."
The woman walked to the table with two more beer and a dirty rag. She tossed the rag at Calvin.
"Ten bucks and clean up your own mess."
Jackson took out his wallet and passed Betsy a hundred dollar bill.
"Ain't got da change fer dis."
"Just keep the beer coming when I ask and you can keep whatever is left over. Now, please, go away."
Jackson rolled his eyes, as he watched Betsy shuffle back to the bar.
"Fucking hillbillies."
He looked back at Calvin, who was wiping the table.
"So, Calvin, do you want the opportunity to get back at Tuckamore Bay."
"Where is Simon? He was the one I was dealing with."
"Simon has disappeared. We went on a snowmobile trip to my cabin, in northern Alberta and the stupid shit got lost, somehow. They have searched for him for two weeks now, with no luck.
My poor daughter is distraught."
Calvin stared at Jackson.
"You kill him?"
Jackson shook his head.
"No. The RCMP figure that he got lost on the trail. It was snowing heavy. They think that he might have ended up in the Peace River. They haven't found any trace of him."
Jackson turned around.
"Betsy? Can I smoke in here?"
"Cost you twenty bucks."
Jackson rolled his eyes, again. He took out a gold case from his inside pocket. He opened it and offered one to Calvin.
"Naw. Don't smoke."
"Pussy," Jackson muttered, as he lit the cigar. He exhaled a cloud of smoke and sipped his beer.
"So. Calvin. You want in or not?"
"You got a plan?"
"Well, the way I see it, I use my connection with Tuckamore Bay to get them comfortable and somewhere in the future we go in and take it over."
Calvin started laughing.
"You are going to take over Tuckamore Bay?"
He laughed harder. Finally he stared at Jackson.
"Go the fuck back to Alberta."
"You don't want to get in on the gold?"
"There is no fucking gold," Calvin barked.
"It is just a legend. A fucking tale made up by crazy fucks like Xavier Parsons. And look what happened to him. They found him with his guts blown out."
Calvin finished his beer and yelled to Betsy to bring him a couple more.
After she left the table, Calvin continued.
"Tuckamore Bay is cursed. You can't get in there. Those fucking ghosts will catch you every time. That's what happened to Xavier and his brother and friend. The fucking ghosts chased them out of the Bay."
Jackson laughed as he drew on his cigar.
"Old wives tales."
"If you believe that, Jackson, then you are a foolish man."
"I have been to Tuckamore Bay. I didn't see no ghosts. I tell you, it is an old wives tale. Stories to scare the kids."
Calvin shook his head.
"People have seen them. My people. There ain't been a Parsons that has been in the Bay in fifty years. Those ghosts can smell a Parsons."
"So, you are going to let some campfire stories scare you out of a fortune in gold."
"There is no fucking gold," Calvin explained carefully.
"If there was, don't you think the people of the Bay would have found it?"
"Maybe they have been looking in the wrong place and for the wrong gold."
Calvin was confused.
"What are you talking about?"
Jackson reached into his inside jacket pocket and took out a red case. He opened it and put it on the table.
"What is that?"
"Look at it."
Calvin picked up the small case and took out the gold coin. He examined it for a moment.
"Tuckamore County?"
Jackson nodded, as he drew on his cigar.
"Tuckamore County was a county in England, back in the late 1700s. Seems the local sheriff or magistrate, whatever he was called, had it in for the residents of the county. Somewhere along the way, the head of the families of Tuckamore County, a man by the name of Issac Dove, got wind of a plot to take over his county."
Jackson took the coin back from Calvin and put it back in its case.
"So, Issac Dove managed to secure a boat and get out of England, with all his family and their worldly possessions.
Somewhere along the way, tragedy struck Issac and his ship and they ended up in the New Found Land, in a place that later became known as Tuckamore Bay."
Calvin shrugged.
"So, you have learned the history of Tuckamore Bay."
Calvin clapped his hands.
"You are a fucking scholar."
"Tuckamore County was one of the wealthiest in England, at the time. So wealthy, in fact, that they milled their own coins."
Jackson held up the case.
"This is a solid gold two ounce coin, worth about twenty five to twenty six hundred dollars, in gold value. To a collector, this coin is priceless. There are only ten known to be in existence. I paid nearly fifty thousand dollars for this, at an auction in Edmonton, just a month ago.
The research I have done makes me believe that this Issac Dove left England with at least four trunks of these gold coins. Possibly more.
Do you have any idea what those coins would be worth today?"
"Nothing," Calvin snapped back.
"Because there is no proof that these coins even exist."
Again Jackson reached into his inside pocket. He took out an old faded envelope and opened it.
"This is a letter, written by Ben King. he was with Xavier Parsons and Arthur Parsons. This letter was supposed to be sent to his brother, who lived in Halifax, but it never got sent."
"How did you get it?"
"Ben King had a son that lived in Corner Brook. I got in touch with the man's grandson. Seemed he was still living in his grandfather's house, which he inherited.
I persuaded this young man to sell me all his family's old stuff, that was cluttering up his attic. Most of it was junk, but then there was this letter."
Jackson took out the letter and looked it over for a moment.
"Ah, here it is.
As ben writes,
'Larry, Ise don't know if Ise saw what I saw, but those images will stays with me forever. The three of us barely gots out with our lives, yet that crazy fucker, Xavier says he is going back to that cursed bay.
He showed me a coin, he says he found, near the place where we drilled that night. He says there has to be more there and he is sure he knows where they are.
Ise tinks hes a crazy fucker and he's losing his mind.
Ise knows for one, I ain't going back there. But Xavier says he bes going back.'"
Jackson folded the letter and returned it to the envelope.
"Apparently poor old Ben met with an accident, before he could mail the letter and of course, we all know what happened to Xavier."
"So where is this supposed coin?"
Jackson sat back in his chair.
"I believe that someone in the bay has that coin. And I believe I know who does. Matty Dove."
Calvin laughed.
"You are going to fuck with Matty Dove? That bitch has ice in her veins and she fears no one."
Jackson nodded.
"That is true. Matty is a strong woman, but right now, she is on a cruise ship, somewhere in the Caribbean, on her honeymoon."
Calvin stared at Jackson.
"And I care about that, why?"
"The people of the Bay know me and they know I am friends with Bill and Matty. And right now, Bill and Matty are gone, for almost two weeks, which means their house is empty. And no one in the Bay locks their doors."
"So you are planning what?"
"I am planning to go to the Bay. Spend a couple days there and when the people are comfortable with me there, I will drop by the lighthouse and take a look around."
Calvin started laughing and slapped the table.
"You are going to walk into Tuckamore Bay and just walk into the house of the two people who saved the Bay?
You are fucking crazy."
Calvin sat back and took a deep breath.
"They have cops there now and everyone in the Bay look out for each other. You can't fart there without everyone knowing."
He finished another beer.
"And even if you did managed to avoid the cops and the people, you still have to deal with the ghosts. And they are everywhere."
"There is no such thing as ghosts."
Jackson tried to be as convincing as he could, but he still had the memory of the strange feeling he had, that night at Bill and Matty's.
"You just go on believing that, Jackson."
Calvin looked to the bar.
"Betsy? Rum and coke."
He turned his attention back to Jackson.
"I want to thank you for the beer and drinks."
Betsy put a drink in front of Calvin and quickly shuffled away.
"I wish you all the best in this little treasure hunt of yours, Mr. Lamont. But you can count me out."
"You don't want your revenge on the two people that ruined your career?"
"How do I get my revenge? What possible part could I have in this?"
"You try to bring peace between the Pond and the Bay."
Calvin started laughing hysterically.
"You are fucking insane. The Pond and the Bay have had a feud that goes back almost seventy years. The most anyone from either community is driven the highway past it.
No Parsons would dare step in the Bay and no Bayman would set foot in the Pond.
So, you go on with your little fantasy, about gold and such, but leave me out of it."
He sat forward.
"Your idiot son-in-law almost got himself killed, at the Bay and believe me, I have no idea why he and his buddies he brought with him, aren't all off Anchor Point right now.
And if you aren't very careful, Mr. Lamont, you just might end up there yourself."
Calvin quickly downed his drink.
"You might not believe in the ghosts of the Bay, but believe this. Anchor Point is real and there be more skeletons at the bottom of that ocean, than you can count."
Calvin stood up.
"Now, I will take my leave."
Jackson watched as Calvin staggered through the bar and out the front door.
"Fucking hillbilly."
Jackson stood up quickly and walked across the bar.
"Calvin bes rite."
Jackson stopped and looked at Betsy.
"What?"
"Xavier Parsons were my grand-daddy. Me fodder telled me da stories dat Xavier telled 'im. Youse best be careful ifin youse plannin' to fuck wit da Bay."
"I'm not afraid of a bunch of backward fucking Bay hillbillies."
Betsy nodded as she wiped the top of the bar.
"Youse mite tink dey bes 'illbillies, but youse gots to 'member someting 'bout 'illbillies. Dey bes family and family sticks together like glue. And dem people of da Bay. Dey bes da stickiest of dem all."
"Thanks for the advice," Jackson laughed, as he turned, for the door.
"Not bes advice, me son. Bes a warning. Remember, 'ere, youse bes da 'illbilly."
Jackson turned and looked at Betsy.
"Fucking hillbillies," he sneered, as he walked out the door.