The Boy Detective Fails (26 page)

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Authors: Joe Meno

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BOOK: The Boy Detective Fails
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When she finds her seat in history class, Lauren Marks, a popular blond girl, leans over the aisle and says, “Was she all gross and everything?”

Effie Mumford frowns and then nods her head, enjoying this little attention.

“Did she say anything?” the other girl asks.

Effie shakes her head, and looking the pretty girl in the eyes, replies, “I gave her my coat and then she asked if she was dead. I told her no, because she wasn’t, I guess.”

* * *

After school, that very same day, there is an unexpected phone call from a mysterious stranger.

“Hello?” Effie Mumford says quietly.

“Hello,” the voice comes. It is unfamiliar and weak, the breath sharp and spindly against the telephone receiver.

“Hello?” Effie says again. There is the sound of machines on the other end, of small pumps rising and falling, of the slow, continuous rattle of some steady beat. After a moment or two, Effie Mumford realizes it is the sound of Parker Lane’s empty hospital room. The girl, barely alive, is trying to speak.

“Thank you,” comes the voice. “Thank you, thank you, thank you.”

TWENTY-FIVE

At school, Gus Mumford is again the only child in class. He has no one to whom he can brag to, even if he did want to speak. He sits in his chair, nervous because Miss Gale’s wooden desk is also empty. He lowers his head against his arms and stares up at the clock. He watches as the small black hand chases the larger one around its blank white face. An hour goes by. Nothing happens. He lifts his head and looks around. He stares at the blank white room. He imagines this is what being dead must be like. He blinks. He blinks again. He blinks once more, very fast, hearing the sound his blinking makes—it is like a soft fluttering. He places both feet against the tile floor. He taps his foot once. It makes a loud snap, the sound vibrating and echoing in the large, vacant space. He taps his foot again, then the other. He pounds both on the floor, proud of the clomping rhythm they make. He bangs on the wood panel of his desk with his right hand then the left. He begins to hum. It is the first time he has heard his own voice in some time. It is unusual and spectacular, like the sound of a narrow buzz saw. He continues throttling the desk, humming along, making up a song about a dinosaur who eats tanks:

Tanks, tanks

I eat tanks

Every kind of tank, tank, tank

Tanks, tanks

I eat tanks

I don’t even say thanks

Gus Mumford does not even realize he is singing. He is saying words out loud—many of them. He hollers and shouts, clapping his hands and singing until finally, many hours later, the classroom door opens and Miss Van Winkle, the school’s fourth grade teacher, a young lady with puffy brown hair, big brown eyes, and glittery blue eye shadow, steps inside.

“Gus Mumford?”

Gus Mumford nods.

“Have you been in here all alone, honey?”

Gus Mumford nods again.

“We’ve made a terrible mistake. Miss Gale believed all of her students were absent today.”

Gus shakes his head.

“Would you like to visit with my class today? We’re doing a science project with clay. We’re discussing dinosaurs.”

So excited is the boy that he opens his mouth and whispers, “Yes,” before he knows what he is doing. It is the first word he has spoken to anybody in nearly three months. Without regret, he hurtles from his chair and Miss Van Winkle takes his hand, the two of them hurrying down the hallway.

It is as he steps into the colorful, unfamiliar world of the fourth grade, and it is as Miss Van Winkle asks question after question about dinosaurs, that Gus Mumford most happily answers, that the small boy then realizes this: The most important things in your life are almost always impossible to predict.

Walking home that afternoon, smiling, Gus stops and watches a single red ant cross his path. He pauses and stares as it hurries into line, marching merrily away, joining a tiny red parade.

TWENTY-SIX

The boy detective sits beside the Mumford children, staring at the front page of that day’s late-edition newspaper. In a blurry photo, beneath a headline that reads
MISSING GIRL FOUND
, Effie and Gus Mumford stand pointing at some indefinite spot in the woods, both children in the photograph appearing serious, bright, and charming.

Billy looks at the picture, then up and into their smiling faces.

“But now, of course, like all detectives, you must reveal how you did it,” he says, smiling back at them.

“We did something very simple,” Effie says.

“Yes, and what was that?”

Effie Mumford stares off the porch into the night sky. The first stars of the evening are quietly arriving, and Billy, following her gaze, listens as the small girl speaks.

“We allowed ourselves, for one brief moment, to believe in something we could not see.”

The boy detective, on the bus again, stares out at the dull lights of the evening. Dreading having to go to work, he quietly begins to remember the Daisy Hollis case.

Of course, it was Billy’s wondrous sleuthing that led them to the mansion on the hill. Daisy Hollis was heir to the Hollis Dry Cleaning fortune and lived in a very large estate beside many other large mansions in the hills just outside of town. At first the police were sure the girl’s disappearance was the work of the Pawn Shop Kidnapper, who had abducted as many as five girls already. Taking their prized jewelry and possessions, he turned the children free without waiting for a ransom. It seemed Daisy Hollis had been a victim of the same treachery, as she was famous for wearing a mammoth ruby heirloom pin, worth several thousand dollars. However, unlike the other children, Daisy was not soon returned and the police chief began to get worried.

When Daisy had been missing for a fifth day, the police once again performed a search of the Hollis estate but, sadly, no clues were discovered. Billy, insistent that there was always a clue to be found, undertook a serious investigation.

With Caroline and Fenton, Billy gave a very close search of the grounds near Daisy Hollis’s immense house which, to the Argo children and their companion, looked like a museum: There was an enormous aquarium with many colorful fish, there was a conservatory with real-life coconut trees, there was a musical hall with a piano that played by itself and a swimming pool as large as any of the children had ever seen. But there wasn’t evidence of mischief. With magnifying glass in hand, Billy investigated the topiary garden, its giant trees cut in the shapes of dancing elephants and giraffes. With the fingerprint set, Caroline searched the stables. His stomach rumbling, Fenton questioned the kitchen staff. Before long it was growing dark. With their flashlights, the children crept through the large maze Daisy’s parents had erected for her, then past the petting zoo, where small deer and antelope were going to sleep.

As the silent moon began to rise, marking the end of the fifth day poor Daisy Hollis had been missing, Billy made an important discovery: The mansion on the hill, a spooky old house at the very edge of the highest cliff overlooking town, was mysteriously glowing. A small colored light was glimmering in one of its many windows, and reflected there in the mist of the night, the mansion seemed to burn with a very strange red haze.

Without delay, the boy detective and his assistants headed up the steep cliff, past the enormous, wrecked wrought-iron gate, to the heavy wood doors which served as the mansion’s entrance. Sneaking inside, the children walked silently through the dark, following the strange flashing of the mysterious light. Up the creaking stairs missing their banisters and down a cobwebbed hallway, at last the children found the reason for the strange red glow: There, at the foot of an enormous dressing mirror, was a very large ruby. The colossal jewel, reflected by the moonlight through the mirror, was causing the whole room to sparkle red.

“Look!” Billy exclaimed. “A ruby. Just like the one in Daisy Hollis’s pin.” He knelt beside the clue and glanced around the empty room. “I believe someone left it here as a hint.”

Billy stood and placed the evidence in the pocket of his sweater. He took a few steps, then began to inspect the enormous dressing mirror, which ran from the ceiling to the floor. Billy gave the shiny surface a push and it quickly opened, revealing a narrow passageway.

“Look!” Caroline exclaimed. “A hidden door.”

“It sure is dark!” Fenton chimed in.

“It certainly is,” Billy agreed.

The children switched on their flashlights and followed Billy into the narrow passageway. It seemed to turn this way and that. The children realized they were heading into a series of caves somewhere within the heart of the cliffs. Along the way were a number of other jewels—a diamond ring, a pearl necklace, a set of antique amethyst earrings. Finally, the passage led to a very large cave. At the end of the cave was an opening which led out to the river. A small motorboat was tied there, as were a number of other interesting clues: several suitcases which seemed packed and ready to leave, a chair and rope, and a black blindfold.

“Look! Evidence!” Billy exclaimed.

Caroline immediately began to test the items for fingerprints.

“Look there,” Fenton whispered, opening the first suitcase. “There’s jewelry.”

“It seems the Pawn Shop Kidnapper has been quite busy,” Billy replied.

Opening one of the other suitcases, Billy found a variety of children’s clothes and shoes. Beside the second suitcase was a third which, when the clasps had been opened, the children discovered was filled with wigs of all kinds; short, long, blond, red, and brown.

“So this is how he manages to nab his victims!” Caroline gasped.

“Of course,” Billy said, nodding. “The poor children are forced to change clothes and wear these wigs so he can escape with them and later sell their belongings.”

“Perhaps we should contact the police,” Caroline remarked. “I’d hate to run into the Pawn Shop Kidnapper out here alone.”

“Yes, of course, I’ll go,” Fenton agreed. In a dash, their chubby friend hurried back through the passageway, his flashlight marking his path.

“Perhaps there is another clue that can lead us to Daisy Hollis,” Caroline said. “We ought to look more carefully while we wait.”

“A very thorough idea,” Billy replied.

However, searching through both suitcases once more, the Argo children did not find anything new. When they had finished their search, the young detectives replaced everything as it had been and stood in the dark, wondering what to do next. That’s when a light began to shine from the secret passage once more.

“Look,” Billy whispered. “Someone’s coming.”

“Could it be Fenton already?” Caroline asked.

“I don’t think so,” Billy answered. Quietly, Billy and Caroline did their best to hide behind a stack of crates, holding their breath so as not to give themselves away. Just then, a man dressed as a ghost entered, and began to place the suitcases within the motorboat.

“Hold it right there!” Billy shouted, flashing his light in the villain’s eyes.

“Who’s there?” the ghost responded angrily.

“Hurry, let’s make a run for it,” Caroline whispered, frightened. Billy nodded, flashing the light in the ghost’s eyes once more. The villain cursed as the children darted past him into the secret passageway and back into the dark. The ghoul quick on their trail, they began, as loud as they could, calling for help. Pushing the doorway behind the mirror open, they ran through the spooky old house, along the cobwebbed hallway, and then back down the old steps. Pulling on the enormous front door, the Argo children found it locked, and looking back over their shoulders, they heard the villain laughing at their misfortune.

“Now you’ll see what happens to meddlers,” the ghostly scoundrel said.

“We’re not afraid,” Billy replied. “We know what you’ve done.”

“Well, for such smart brats you
ought
to be afraid.”

Hidden by the dark, Caroline quietly took Billy’s hand, now quite frightened. The ghost slowly crept down the stairs, step by step, until he was standing before them, laughing.

“Now you’ll have a chance to solve your greatest mystery, boy detective: What happens when meddling children poke where they don’t belong?”

The ghoul raised his hairy hands toward them and Caroline screamed.

It was then that the police, with Fenton in tow, crashed through the mansion door. Very quickly, the ghostly villain was surrounded and, just as quickly, was put in handcuffs. Captured now, the Pawn Shop Kidnapper lowered his head and Billy removed his ghostly mask. It was none other than Killer Kowalzavich, a hoodlum Billy had come across once or twice before on his adventures.

“Now that you’re under arrest, Killer Kowalzavich, why not confess?” Billy asked. “Tell us where Daisy Hollis is and perhaps the police might go easier on you.”

“Daisy Hollis? I never had the chance to nab her. Sure, I had planned on it, but someone beat me to her first. All the others, sure, I admit, I kidnapped and took their expensive jewelry and toys to sell. But I never had the chance to nab Daisy Hollis. Honest, I don’t know where she is.”

“What about the ruby?” Billy asked.

“What ruby?”

“This one,” Billy said, holding the jewel out in his hand.

“That one belongs to Hazel Maryweather, the daughter of the mining company magnate. It’s from her prized necklace.”

“Very interesting story,” Billy replied, shaking his head. “Maybe you’ll have a different ending when you meet the chief of police,” the boy said, watching the nogoodnik being led away.

The three children walked out of the mansion and stood beside a rusty wishing well, staring down at their own reflections.

“Do you believe he’s telling the truth, Billy?” Fenton finally asked.

“Of course I don’t,” Billy said. “We only need to look at the evidence. Within an hour, Killer Kowalzavich will tell what he knows and Daisy Hollis will be found quite safe.”

Caroline, however, was unconvinced. “Billy, I believe Daisy Hollis may still be in danger,” she said. She opened her small satchel, and finding a shiny penny, tossed the coin into the wishing well.

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