River Gold

A nationally acclaimed historian has his briefcase stolen during a contentious sheriff’s race in Namekagon County, and John Cabrelli is pulled into a murder investigation with more questions than answers. The victim refuses to cooperate, a political rival circles like a vulture, and Cabrelli’s only suspect turns up dead—run down before he can speak.

As the case spirals, Cabrelli follows a trail leading through cryptic journals, whispers of lost French gold, and long-buried secrets in the Northwoods. But every lead is a dead end.

Under pressure from a relentless county executive, Cabrelli must untangle fact from folklore, ambition from truth—and catch a killer before it costs him everything—his badge, his reputation, and maybe even his life.

River Gold, the fifth book in the award-winning Northern Lakes Mystery series, is a gripping small-town mystery packed with murder, buried secrets, and the haunting pull of lost treasure that keep you guessing to the last page.

Prologue

Two ten-year-old boys, Jay John and his buddy Wyatt, lived with their parents along the Namekagon River. The waters, woods, and wetlands were the playground of local youngsters. There was no shortage of adventure in the backcountry. Building forts, playing pirates, and climbing higher in trees than their parents would care to see kept them thoroughly occupied. 


They were good kids who loved to explore—especially when not sanctioned by Mom or Dad. Over the last few days the boys had hatched a plan, carefully squirreling away needed supplies in quantities no one would notice. They hid homemade wax and sawdust fire starters, fishhooks, fishing line, and anything else they could think of behind the garage in an old steel ash can with a tight-fitting lid. Two letters in zipped plastic bags were part of their master plan. 


Jay John and Wyatt often earned “walking around money” helping a neighbor. Their most recent job was shoveling a foot of chicken manure out of the coop, wheelbarrowing it to the compost pile, and mixing it in. It was hard work, but the boys kept at it. The neighbor paid the boys with cash and brand-new, made in the USA Leathermans. Each multi-tool—with knife and saw blades, pliers, and assorted screwdrivers—was just the right size to fit in their jeans pocket. 


That night, after dinner, the co-conspirators met behind the garage and transferred their secret supplies into old canvas backpacks. As they were finishing up, Jay John noticed two rusty traps hanging from a nail on the garage wall. They threw them in with the rest of their gear, just in case the fish weren’t biting. They hid the packs behind an old stump on what they called the school road.


The next morning, each told their parents they had volunteered to show up at school early to help with some chores. They were helpful boys, so no questions were asked. Along the way, they grabbed the packs and ran down the school road, stopping once to hide them in the bushes. 


Mrs. Johnson met them at the door. They handed her the letters that explained why they would be absent for the day. As she started questioning them, other students began flooding through the doorway, and the boys slipped out, heading back on the school road. 


At just the right time, they looked over their shoulder and jumped onto the river trail, known only to bears, wolves, deer, and local kids. The boys were home free, having fooled parents and teachers alike. Their “can’t fail plan” would put them on the river, enjoying a day of fishing while the other kids worked on math and spelling.


The boys came to the place where a big white pine had fallen over a narrow spot in the river. They set up camp near a pool of clear, deep water at a bend. It was full of fish, so they expected no trouble catching lunch. Eating, however, was not their main objective. They’d heard that this pool contained a huge fish, far bigger than all the rest. Jay John’s dad told him that the Namekagon River was known to have sturgeon, and that must be what folks were talking about.


They wedged a long, skinny pole into the crack of a giant rock slab that served as a fire ring. The boys had eaten breakfast and weren’t hungry, but they were so excited to use their new tools that they built a fire and opened two cans of beans. They sat on the rock, backs resting on the white pine, and examined every feature of their Leathermans. It was then they realized they had forgotten to bring spoons. So they used their knife blades to whittle two pieces of wood into usable utensils. Beans consumed, the boys got down to catching that monster fish. 


They set up fishing gear and shinnied out on the fallen pine. Once positioned over the deepest part of the river, they looped themselves together with rope, using bowline knots. They rigged up hand lines with hooks and worms and dropped them into the cold, clear water. Jay John’s worm barely hit the water before he hooked a fish. Wyatt hooked another at almost the same time. Both were brook trout, the kind of fish Jay John’s grandpa always went for in the upper Namekagon. The trout were brought to hand and skewered on a sharp branch. They caught one more small fish, and with lunch secured, they moved on to their master plan. 


They hauled out their secret weapon—a five-aught hook and hundred-pound test line borrowed from Jay John’s dad’s tackle box. They baited the hook with a glob of worms and the head of the small fish and tied the line around a big branch. 


The boys took their lunch of trout and leftover beans to the fire ring. They hung the cans of beans over the fire and roasted the trout on sticks. They called their lunch “beans and brookies.” There was nothing better. Bellies full, they lay back against the pine. Suddenly Jay John glanced at the heavy line and jumped up. The line was taut and jerking hard. Whatever it was, it was a monster. The line held fast, and as the boys pulled it in, they were surprised to find it came easily. 


After three or four feet, they wondered: Had the fish gotten off? They were about to give up hope when the line again stretched taut, burning their fingers. What to do? If they untied the line from the tree, the fish might haul them into the river. They decided to leave the line tied and go down to the water’s edge to catch a glimpse of this monster. The boys were expert climbers and descended the slippery rocks with ease. They lay down side by side, looking into the deep water. The sun was at just the right angle, revealing a behemoth, longer than either of the boys and probably outweighing them both. 


They slapped palms, determined to land the biggest fish either had ever seen. They started back to their line when something in a little crevice caught Wyatt’s eye. A shiny gold fishing lure? Jay John grabbed it and slipped it into his pocket. It was then their plans were interrupted by a big booming voice. 


It was Jay John’s father. Caught unawares, the boys scrambled to explain their way out of their predicament, each talking over the other. “You boys get yourselves back here,” said Jay John’s dad. 
“We need to get you on safe ground.”


With the boys on solid footing, Jay John’s father crawled out on the log to see what they had. It was indeed a sturgeon, big-bodied and probably over a hundred years old. He pulled on the line, which was the last straw for the sturgeon. It whipped its head and dove to the bottom of the river, line broken. 


With the fish gone, the boys remembered the fishing lure. Jay John pulled it out of his pocket and handed it to his dad. 
“This is no fishing lure,” he said. “This is a gold coin.” 


The boys were awestruck. They had come for fish and had struck gold. 


“Real gold?” they asked. 


“Looks that way to me. We’ll take it to town and find out for sure,” said Jay John’s father.


The coin was, in fact, gold. It had the name “Napoleon III Empereur” with the image of a wreath around a man’s head. The boys’ find made the front page in the paper. Treasure hunters and historians called it the Lost Boys’ coin. But when the interviewer of a local TV show called it by that name, Jay John and Wyatt were quick to point out they knew exactly where they were.