“So?”
“So I excavated around it.”
“And?”
“I found a box.”
I stared at him.
“A box?”
“A sealed metal box. Buried underground.”
He explained that according to old permits, the pool had been constructed about twenty-two years earlier near the original property line.
When Dad uncovered the box, he noticed faded writing on the side.
A family name.
He recognized that the house currently standing there had not always existed.
So instead of opening the box alone, he contacted Eleanor.
She had lived on the street for fifty years.
She knew the family named on the box.
The previous property had belonged to a Hungarian immigrant named Tibor, a watchmaker who spent decades repairing watches and clocks.
Over the years, Tibor had built a valuable personal collection.
He died in the late 1990s.
His wife passed away a few years later.
Their son eventually sold the land.
The original house was demolished.
Richard’s current home was built afterward.
And somewhere during all of that, nobody found the collection Tibor had buried.
The pool had eventually been built over it.
“For twenty-two years?” I asked.
Dad nodded.
“What was inside?”
“Twelve pieces. Mostly pocket watches. One small clock.”
Eleanor believed at least one of the watches was extremely valuable.
Years earlier, Tibor had told her he had hidden his best pieces because he didn’t trust banks.
She knew the collection existed.
She just never knew where.
Until Dad found it.
“Why are the police here?”
“Because I called them.”
Dad explained it as though the answer should have been obvious.
The items clearly predated Richard’s ownership.
They were connected to an identifiable former owner.
And possibly to a living heir.
Dad wasn’t going to put the box in his truck.
He wasn’t going to quietly hand it to Richard.
And he certainly wasn’t going to keep it.
He documented the discovery.
Photographed everything.
Contacted Eleanor.
Then contacted the authorities so the contents could be handled properly.
Eleanor had also located Tibor’s son.
His name was Martin.
He was seventy-three and lived in New Mexico.
He was already on a plane.
Richard, meanwhile, was arguing that anything discovered beneath his property belonged to him.
The officers weren’t making a final ownership determination.
Their job was to secure the items and document what had happened until the legal question could be resolved.
I looked at Dad.
