A short story

I was called in soon after The Collector was killed. It wasn?t an accident. The place was a mess so they told me to wear a mask. I held my breath instead.

At first there didn?t seem to be any rhyme or reason to it all. I could be gracious and say there were piles everywhere but heaps would describe it better. But no, there was a pattern. Plastic items occupied one nook while another was almost entirely paper. I couldn?t even identify some of the plants near the entrance but they were long dead. Then I spotted it. A green disc partially concealed by a collection of wire and string. Bingo token, tiddly-wink?? It seemed a bit too heavy for those. I sealed everything up when I left but kept the disc. Who?d know?

I was glad the wife wasn?t home when I pulled out the disc. She?d probably tell me to throw it out. Water had no effect on it. But some olive oil and elbow grease revealed the outline of a coin. When the date became visible, it hit me! The coin predated The Collector?s great-grandparents for sure. It might have been acquired yesterday, but The Collector?s reputation and the verdigris on the coin suggested otherwise. I began to think it might be some sort of heirloom passed from generation to generation.

What was the attraction of these once shiny bits of metal? Did the number or type establish the status of a collector? Or was it the chatter surrounding each piece and it?s acquisition that made possessing them worthwhile? Who knows?

In any event, I've included an image of what came out of that that pack rat den. It still leaves several unanswered questions. Would this coin earn the coveted "rainbow" designation from Teletrade? Should I have sent it to NCS for conservation? Would a dealer somewhere have included the description "only a scratch in front of Lincoln's nose keeps it from a much higher grade!"

Pack rack