Minneapolis is Missing?
Chapter 1
The ad in the “Agony Column” of the Evening Tribune, San Diego, CA
for June 10, 1946,
read:
"f o ' T e e
n m i l ezy as w H u p E d s y ll a B u
b Er y A
y y? 2038 hornblend
down up Left lEft left."
It seemed so ridiculous, so silly. How could it be a legitimate lead to
the Beale, the best documented, unrecovered, buried
treasure in the United States? Still Marnie was
certain that it was.
That ad was in her hand now as she stood vacillating on the bottom step
of a solid if stolid, commercial building on Fourth Avenue in San Diego's not quite uptown and definitely not downtown
section.
She made a neat figure that perfectly fitted the caption beneath her
picture in the well thumbed, if still smelling of printer's ink, Senior Class
Annual from San Diego State College.
"Class of the class of '46...Quite simply the prettiest thing at
State ever... and what a shape."
The shape was thinly disguised today in a simple, green wool suit with
white blouse, white gloves, carried not worn, hose and heels, and a little hat,
exactly as prescribed for "Luncheon at The Savoy", Lesson 5 in Miss Chumley's
"Socially Awareness Class for the Unwed “ at State College, with
modifications.
The modifications were Marnie’s own in response
to her quest. The heels were the very stylish hole-through-the-heel wooden
wedgies. And the hat was a close fitting green cloche of her Mother’s with a
feather that came down over one cheek. The appearance she was attempting was an
egalitarian mix of Nancy Drew, Detective, and Theda Bara, Vamp. And she wasn’t sure she had achieved it.
Heads swiveled in appreciation as business types passed up and down the
avenue while she stood, one foot on the lower step, unmindful of the attention,
or accustomed to it.
What to do? And how did she get into this?
Maude Marie Albertson should have been a pseudonym. It was just not Marnie. Marnie could never be a
Maude much less Marie, both family names.
Besides being pretty her prime characteristic was a very low "minimal
ignition temperature". And once ignited, she glowed, and cast a reflected,
happy glow on all about her.
And she liked practically everything. Most anything ignited her.
She liked people, boys mostly, (except that since now newly matriculated
that should read "men"), Australian Sheep dogs, catsup sandwiches,
wind sailing, beach volleyball, water-skiing, parties, party dresses, any color
as long as it was green. Almost everything.
Naturally she could not glow uninterruptedly and when her glow dwindled to
a flicker she had a home grown remedy. She would retreat to a rustic, guest
cabin behind the big family house in fashionable Mission Hills. There she would
eat, sleep and dream her dreams, but mostly eat.