Mystery at the Swimming Hole - pg 28-32

The next morning after breakfast we all met at the quarry. I asked if anyone had unexpected visitors last night. No one did so maybe it was nothing to be concerned about, but I would be on high alert tonight.

Frank arrived in his newly purchased car. We didn’t know it was his until he opened the driver side door. “Do you losers want to ride or walk?” 

“I put my hand in the air. “I call Shotgun.”

Mike groaned, “Ah! Man.”

I laughed, “You gotta be faster, Mike.” I bowed. “You can get in first and pick your seat in the back.”

Mike went to grab the handle but Frank pulled forward just as he reached for it.

“Ho, ho, ho hilarious.”

Mike reached for it again and Frank backed up. We all started laughing our heads off. “You guys are really funny.”

John opened the door and pushed Mike in the back seat. 

Frank installed the lawn chairs with handmaid cup holders. 

Mike flicked his finger on a can attached to the arm. “What is this contraption?”

“They’re drink holders. You know . . . to hold a soda bottle.” Frank smiled with the pride of an inventor.

“Or worms for fishin.” Mike teased.

 “Go ahead and laugh, but when I get it all fixed up I’m asking Cheryl, the Librarian on a date.” Frank grinned.

“Miss Hot Pants.” Mike choked. “That’ll be the day. She’s too smart for you.”

“Maybe.” I said, “but Franks the only one of us that will have a car. Well! 
At least, part of a car.” 

We drove over to our safe house. The car was loud and rickety, but better than walking. 

When we showed up at Parker’s she asked, “Whatcha, all doin here so early?” 

We wanted to find out more from G-ma what she and the sheriff had worked on in the past, but we had trouble asking. I finally said, “Sheriff Carson told us you were helping him out with getting information from Wilkie . . . your stepbrother.” 

“Oh, did he now?” Wiping her hands on a dishtowel, she chuckled. “Sheriff Carson’s such a sweetheart, I could never turn him down, but don’t worry bout me I can take care of myself.”

Mike sniffed a pie. “We don’t want you to get hurt, you’re not yuh….” He didn’t finish the sentence. 

“Whatcha say Mikey? I’m not young?” We saw a big smile on her face. “That’s true, but this ain’t my first rodeo.” Then she belly laughed.

She went on to explain that in the past the sheriff needed some information on the rodeo and mistreatment of the animals. Parker was glad to help out. She was active in promoting animal rights before it became popular.

Everyone in town was talking about the murder of the woman in the quarry car and the money. But as rumors go no one knew the whole story or the right story. That was fine with the sheriff’s office. It was a distraction, so getting information on the next dog-fighting event wouldn’t raise suspicions. For a small town, a murder, stolen money and a dog fighting ring were a lot of crimes to solve, but they were all connected, so solving one would give them answers for the others. Hawkins and the sheriff had a plan and G-ma would be key to implementing it. 

We played a small part, a distraction. We flashed money, more money than kids should have, especially in a one-horse country town. 

* * * 

Next morning the gang showed up at G-ma’s. We were surprised to see Sheriff Carson standing on the porch when we all piled out of Frank’s jalopy.

“Glad to see you boys showed up early. I’ve got a plan but it hinges on your help.” The sheriff waved for them to come in. “Your job is to keep a lookout on Wilkie’s place, both entrances.”

John responded. “I’m in.” 

“Yes. We’ll all help.” Frank answered for the rest of us.

I asked, “What are we looking for?”

The sheriff leaned forward. “A truck carrying dogs. The widow Parker found out from her stepbrother, that another big dogfight is in the works sometime next week.”

Mike fidgeted. “So, what do we do if we see the truck?”

“You report back to me. Grandma will be at the ranch with Tad. She’s told him that she’d help.” Carson rubbed his beard. “They know she needs the money, so she was pretty convincing.” The sheriff held his hand up. “Don’t do anything to put yourself in danger. Just come and get me. Do you understand?”

“What if you’re not at the station? Do we talk to Inspector Hawkins?” John asked.

“I’ll be there. Hawkins is working another angle, so he won’t be available. Oh! One more thing, I’ll have two of my officers take the night shift, so you can go home and get some rest. But we need you back each morning by six a.m.”

We left to take our posts, John and I went to the back gate. Frank and Mike camped out at the front entrance. We knew this could go on for a couple of days. 

Just as we thought, nothing happened that first day. We spent most of the time throwing rocks, climbing trees and telling farfetched stories. A few cars passed, but nothing exciting.

John hurled a rock over the fence. “If this is a typical stake-out, it’s really boring.”

“Yeah, I’ll say. I bet Elliott Ness doesn’t do stake-outs.”

After the officers relieved us from our guard duty we passed by the main gate to check-in with Frank and Mike. They had the same boring day.

* * * 

The next morning we were back watching the gates with still nothing going on until about three in the afternoon when a tractor-trailer came down the dust filled gravel road. It slowed as it got to the back gate. Our eyes widened when we heard dogs barking. The driver picked up a phone at a call box. Minutes later the gates opened automatically. Just as the tractor-trailer pulled through, John ran and jumped on back of trailer. He turned his head and waved for me to get help.

            What the hell, John? 

I hustled down the road to tell the guys what happened. Frank said he would drive to the sheriff’s office, but we should stay and watch the gates in case John came back. 

 

* * * 

 

By the time the sheriff showed more than a dozen dogs were running all over Wilkies property. Somebody must have let them loose. Oh, Shit! John what did you do? The sheriff said he needed to wait for Grandma to see what she found out. There was no evidence of a crime to make an arrest. A few dogs running loose on the property wasn’t a crime.

I held up my hands. “What about John?”

“John wasn’t kidnapped. He went on to private property voluntarily.” The sheriff put his hands on his hips. “He’s trespassing and could be arrested if Tad Wilkins files a complaint.”

Mike let out a breath of air. “But he was trying to help.”

“He didn’t listen and made it harder for us.” Carson threw his cigar butt on the ground and crushed it. “There’s a lot of land behind those gates, so if they grabbed John, he could be hard to find. You boys need to come back to the station. I’ll leave a couple of men here to watch for John. Maybe he’ll show up.”

“What are we supposed to do at the station?” Frank asked.

“We’re waiting to hear from Parker. She may have some valuable intel.” The sheriff pointed to Frank’s car. “You boys hop in that bucket of bolts and head over to the station.”

Frank objected. “Hey, That’s my car. Be nice, it’s a classic.”

“Right! That’s what I meant . . . a classic rust bucket, with the lawn chair seats.” Carson laughed loudly. 

We left immediately and arrived right before the sheriff. When he came in he told us to get a soda and wait in the conference room. He would come in with an update as soon as he had more information. After two hours Carson finally came in at 6:30 p.m. he told us to go home. 

“Meet me at Parker’s tomorrow morning. I’ll have more to tell you then.” The Sheriff lit another cigar. “John will be safe for now. Hawkins is going over to question Tad. An inspector will get more attention than a sheriff. They won’t risk hurting him as long as he doesn’t do something stupid.”

“Won’t his family notice he didn’t come home?” I asked.

“John’s dad is working in the oil fields in Oklahoma and gone for a few months.” Sheriff Carson puffed his cigar. “Parker called John’s mom to ask her if John could stay over a couple of days to help with the dog kennel. She agreed when she heard he would get paid.”  

“So what can we do?” Frank asked.

“Go home for now.”

We walked out with our shoulders drooping, not knowing what would happen to John.

 

* * * 

 

Mystery at the Swimming Hole - pg 23-27

* * *

We left the station after we agreed to work with the sheriff. 

Mike stood erect and puffed his chest out. “Well, I guess we’re undercover agents, now.” Then he smiled. “Call me double O seven.”

“Double O dumb-ass, is more like it,” Frank laughed.

John fanned his two hundred dollars and said, “I already got my boots, so who’s laughing now.” 

I grinned at John. “So what? They’re dead guy boots. I’m going to spend mine on writing lessons.”

With a perplexed look John said. “Writing lessons? What the hell for?”

“I like writing stories. It could be something I can do that gives me an option for my future.”

I asked. “How about you, Frank? 

Frank grinned, “I’ve had my eye on a ’54 Chevy. It’s in rough shape, but I 

can get it at a steal.”

            Mike whipped his head around, “So, you’re going to steal it?”

            Frank folded his arms, “No jackass! It’s been sitin in this guy’s front yard for a year, so I’m sure he’s willing to let it go cheap.”

            “What do you mean by rough?” Mike asked.

            Frank explained, “The body has some dents and rust but it runs. Oh, yeah! There’s no seats.”

            I laughed. “No seats, sounds like a deal. So you’ll have to sit on a bucket?” 

            Mike squared his stance. “Bucket seats, just like those expensive sports cars.”

             “No, for Christ sakes. I’ll get seats with backs. ”Frank grimaced, “I’m thinking lawn chairs. I can bolt them to the floor.”

            “Great idea . . . what about the barbeque pit?” Mike held his stomach laughing at his own joke.

Our jokes continued until we got back to town. We wandered around flashing our new-found cash pretending we had a butt load more. As instructed, we went to check-in with Grandma Parker. She walked to the garden to show us where she had a hidden key in case we needed to get into her place.

Grandma said, “ Consider this your safe house.” 

“Safe house. Huh! We are undercover agents.”  Mike grinned. “And Grandma’s a G-Man.”

I punched Mike in the shoulder. “No, she a G-Ma.”

“Yes, G-Ma. Perfect.” John agreed.

Grandma shook her finger at the boys. “Pay attention now. You boys and my niece are the only ones that know where it’s hidden, but she’s passed now.”

My head bowed, “Sorry, I didn’t know. Who was your niece?”

Wiping her eyes Grandma said, “Lindy Thomas” 

Mike blurted out. “The woman in the car?”

“Yes, but she was a good person. I know the truth.” Grandma Parker stood on her porch and pulled the corner block from the top of windowsill to show us the key. 

The block was perfectly hollowed out to fit the house key. It made me wonder why Grandma did this. There must be more to her story. Once she showed us, she slid the block back in place. It fit snug; no one would suspect anything. 

She turned toward the door. “I’ve got a heck of a lot to do today, so ya’ll skedaddle, now.” Waving her hand in the air. “Go on. The sheriff gave you that money to flash around. Go buy something.”

We walked toward Main street. Mike wanted to buy some joke books and John wanted to spend a little of his cash on alligator jerky. John loved jerky and this was a treat he couldn’t pass up. Frank and I already had plans for our money so we just tagged along. 

After about an hour we got bored and decided to split-up. John and Frank went go to watch Wilkies property. Mike and I went go over to the hotel to see if the divers were back in town. Maybe we could do more to catch the bad guys than just flash some cash around town. We planned to meet at Grandma P’s in the afternoon. 

When Mike and I got to the hotel we saw the divers car. They were back and they spotted us when we were snooping in the car window.

Mike yelled, “They’re coming. Let’s get out of here.”

We ran but they followed in their car. That was their mistake, we lost them easily cutting through yards and darting down alleys. As soon as we were clear we headed to our safe house. 

As we rounded the corner to Grandmas I whispered, “Mike grab the key, I’ll watch for the anyone following us.”

Mike went to the porch, but he couldn’t reach the corner block without standing on the railing. He was the shortest at only five foot two. Bracing himself with one hand on the house, he stood teetering on the railing as he reached to pull out the corner block. He lost his balance and fell crushing the boxelder. 

 “Shit. Holy crap.”

“Mike, what are you doing? Did you get the key?”

“No.” Crawling out of the bush his eyes widen. “Is that poison ivy? It looks like poison ivy.”

I ran my hand through my hair. “It’s sumac, nobody grows poison ivy next to their porch.” I grabbed Mike’s shirt. “You be the lookout, I’ll get the key.”

I snatched the key and let us into the house. 

Mike rubbed the scratches on his arms and legs. “Well, it looked like poison ivy.”

“It’s not, trust me.”

“But it’s starting to itch.” Mike insisted.

I sat resting my head on the table while Mike scratched and squirmed. 

About an hour later Frank and John showed up with some interesting news. 

I opened the door to let them in. “The divers are back in town. We saw them at the hotel, but they saw us too. They followed us but we lost them.” 

Mike asked, “Did you see anything at Wilkies?”

“Yes . . . Grandma.” Frank sat down on a kitchen chair. “They just opened the gate for her, no questions asked.”

“Whoa, that’s crazy.” Mike clawed his leg. “Do you think she’s in on it?”

“It’s time we go see the sheriff.” John pleaded.

Nodding our heads in agreement we left the safe house and headed to the sheriff’s station. The walk took about a half hour–twenty minutes for normal undistracted people, but we were boys and always distracted.

“Hey Kevin-the-writer, this adventure could be your first story.” Mike taunted, “I want to be the hero. Make sure I’m the hero, Kevin.”

“Oh! You will be. The hero that fell off the porch into the sumac bush.”

“I swear it was poison ivy.” Mike argued, “And the railing was wobbly.”

When we arrived at the sheriff’s office, Inspector Hawkins was nowhere in sight. We asked to see the sheriff. A deputy ushered us in to his office and we gathered around his desk.

I started the conversation by saying, “ We have some information that may be surprising.”

You could almost see Sheriff Carson’s ears twitch. “Okay, well let’s hear it.”

Frank took over, “We saw Grandma P visit Tad Wilkins place.”

Sheriff Carson furrowed his brow. “So, this seems to be of some concern.”

“Yes.” John said, “Shouldn’t it be?”

A broad smile formed on the sheriff’s face, “Grandma Parker is not here just to make sure you’re safe. She is working with us to get more information on Wilkie, her stepbrother.”

“Stepbrother?” Frank scratched his head. “That explains why she was welcomed, but?”

Sheriff Carson hesitated. “She has the inside track to getting information, without appearing suspicious.” Carson sucked on his cigar. “She helped me out of a tight spot in the past, so I know she can be trusted. ”

It was late in the day, so the gang and I headed home. We would meet tomorrow at the quarry.  

Later that night I had unexpected visitors snooping around the house. I didn’t see who they were, but it raised the hairs on the back of my neck. Was someone looking for the rest of the money? Our dog chased after them and returned gnawing on a red bandana.

 

Mystery at the Swimming Hole pg 18-22

He finally threw a handful of treats over the fence, which distracted the dogs as John pulled his legs through the hole, but his shoe got caught on a prong and yanked it off. 

The dogs were barking and growling at us so there would be no way to retrieve John’s shoe. We walked down the road past the main gate. The dogs followed tugging and ripping the shoe to shreds.

“What’s your story going to be for the missing shoe?” I smiled at John and. “Do you want me to dig mine out of the trash from yesterday?”

“What would I do with a tiny shoe the size of my little sister’s?”

I laughed, and then changed the subject. “Great shooting Mike, you should enter a competition . . . as long as the target is a big red barn.”

“Ha, Ha. Really funny.” Mike hurled a dog treat at me.”

We hoofed our way back to town when old lady Parker waved at us. “Well, if it isn’t my best customers.” 

We were surprised by her comment. She knew about our pie fetish, and wasn’t clueless at all. 

The old lady curled her finger and said. “Come on over. I’ll make you boys some lunch and y’all can try my new pie recipe. Can’t set them on the on the porch to cool anymore. They always come up missin’.” She wiped her hands on a towel she was holding and laughed.

I sighed and Frank covered his mouth, but none of us hesitated to follow her. It was too late, since she already had us pegged. The nice old lady made us grilled cheese sandwiches with two kinds of cheese. 

“Wow!” Mike exclaimed. “This is fancy.”

“Thank you sweetie, I’m glad you like it.” 

When we sat down to enjoy our sandwiches she walked into another room. “Don’t go anywhere I’ll be right back.” 

We were starving and didn’t comment about her leaving. There was no way we were going anywhere without a slice of her delicious pie. She walked back in the kitchen holding a pair of cowboy boots, slightly worn but in good condition. Looking at John. “Ya only have one shoe?” 

“Yeah, I had a run in with two dogs. They got the shoe but I kept my foot.”

We all laughed. 

“These look to be your size. Try them on.”

“Really? I never . . . had no cowboy boots.” John pulled off his one shoe and slipped on the boots. He strutted around the kitchen like Roy Rogers. “These fit great!”

“They’re yours now.” Old lady Parker picked up a knife to cut the pie. “They were my old man’s. He done passed away nigh on two years ago.”

Mike’s eyes widened. “Dead guy boots!”

The old lady laid a big slice of hot peach pie on a plate and slid it over to Mike, then pulled it back. “Oh wait Hun! Let me get yous some ice cream.” She put a scoop on top and pushed it back to him. “Try it now fore the ice cream melts.”

We ate well that afternoon and felt a little guilty about stealing her pies in the past, but then I wondered if she left them for us. From that day forward we no longer called her old lady Parker. We called her Grandma Parker.

Our bellies were full when we left and headed over to the sheriff’s office. 

Mike, never without words said, “I wonder if old man Parker died with his boots on. Isn’t that what they say about cowboys?”

“That’s what I’ve heard.,” Frank agreed. “What do you think John? Did the old cowboy have his boots on when he died?”

I joined in. “Knock it off guys. If he did, I’m sure he was wearing socks . . .well pretty sure.”

John tried his best to ignore us, but we continued to harass him all the way to the station.

* * *

 

It was mid-day by the time we stepped into the sheriff’s office. Sheriff Carson called in a big city special investigator from the next county to help with this case. He knew it was more than they could handle. Greg Hawkins was now in charge of the murder investigation. He had been updated with the facts of the case from a phone call, so he already did some work before he showed up.

The investigator had Lindy Thomas under surveillance for the last six months. She was not an innocent victim. 

They took us into a separate room so we could tell the investigator what we saw on the property. He took the film and said he would get it developed. Investigator Hawkins pulled out his wallet and gave me three dollars to cover the cost of the film and flash bulbs.  

When we finished telling him about the cave and all the stuff inside, he asked. “Is there anything else? Did you find any money?”

We all froze like we just saw a ghost. The look on our faces gave us away. Hawkins immediately knew we had more information. “Stay here. I’ll be right back.”

Sweat beads formed on my temples. I whispered. “What are we going to do?”

In a low voice Frank said., “We need to stick to our story.” Frank jabbed his finger at us. “There was NO money.”

The rest of us nodded our heads in agreement. When the inspector walked back in we tried to act calm and in control, but Mike was rarely calm and never in control.

Greg Hawkins didn’t say anything for a long time when he returned. He flipped through some papers he brought with him while he peered over his glasses watching our every move. He stood up and said, “I need to talk to each of you, but one at a time.” He saw Mike fidgeting and pointed at him. “How about you go first? Follow me.” He put his hand on Mike’s shoulder and guided him out of the room.

As the door closed I said, “We’re dead. Mike can’t keep his mouth shut.”

“We need to be prepared to tell them the truth.” John rubbed the peach fuzz on his chin. “It’ll go easier on us if we tell the truth. After all we don’t have the money.”

Ten minutes later the investigator brought Mike back in the room.

“I know about the money, tell me the details and I’ll go easy on you.” 

Frank was the first to speak. He gave up our story without any resistance. 

“This is serious, but telling the truth will go a long way to ease your punishment.”

The sheriff opened the door, and asked Inspector Hawkins to come with him for a minute. He had some new information that he wanted to share.

We all glared at Mike. If only he had stuck with the plan and kept his mouth shut. Mike noticed the looks. “It’s not my fault. I didn’t say a thing.”

“You were gone for ten minutes. What did you tell him?” Frank said accusingly.

“Nothing, he bought me a Coke and put me in a room. The inspector didn’t ask me any questions. He didn’t return to the room until he brought me back here.”

I shook my head. “He tricked us.”

Frank’s head dropped between his knees. “It’s my fault.”

“We were never going to get away with it anyway,” John insisted.

Both the sheriff and the special investigator entered the room. 

“I can let you off any charges, but you’re going to have to help me out.”

We all nodded, and I said, “Okay, what do we need to do?”

“Suppose there was $50,000 instead of $30,000?”

“Was there?” Mike inquired.

“No, but there could have been $50,000 in the bag. Only you kids and the dead woman would know. So, let’s pretend there was and see who comes out of hiding.” 

            John frowned. “Seems a little dangerous for us.”

            “Well, it’s your choice, juvenile court or helping us catch the crooks.” 

            Mike rubbed his chin. “Is there something else in it for us?”

            Greg Hawkins stood and scooted his chair under table. “Yes. Here’s the plan.”

He went into great detail about circulating a rumor of a missing cash bag containing $50,000 dollars. He knew the thieves would suspect the kids, since we found the bag. He told us we would each be given $200 to flash around town. The idea was to draw attention to ourselves. He knew the bad guys wouldn’t let some kids get away with $20,000 they thought was theirs. 

Pointing at John, the inspector said, “Buy some things for yourself. Maybe fancy boots like your buddy.”

“Sounds a little dangerous.” I squirmed in my seat.

Sheriff Carson held his hand up. “Don’t worry we have a contact in town that will keep an eye on you to make sure you’re safe. She’s a tough old bird, used to be a rodeo clown with her old man. Worked on the circuit when Wilkie was breakin’ into the music business.”

Mike shrugged his shoulders. “Well! Who is she and how can she help?”

The sheriff narrowed his eyes and smiled. “Y’all know her. She makes pies, but she’s a deadeye with a Winchester. I call her Parker.”  

We all looked at each other and in unison said, “Grandma Parker?” 

* * *

Mystery at the Swiming Hole pg 12-17

Now we were behind the fence and the dogs were outside. At least we outsmarted them. Outlucked them would be more accurate. We walked up the hill toward the house giving John a hard time with each step we took. Someone in our group was always getting razzed. This was John’s turn and for good reason.

As we approached the house we saw the divers’ car parked in the driveway.

Mike went around back and peered into the kitchen window while John and Frank searched the car. I found a cup and turned the open side to the door so I could listen to the conversation between the divers and Wilkie. I didn’t hear every word, but enough to know something crooked was up. They mentioned dog fighting, a cave, and big money.

I told the guys about what I heard and we decided we had to check out the cave. It was getting late, so it would have to wait until tomorrow. In a small town kept secrets are rare. Everyone knew about the caves on Wilkie’s property, but no one gave it a second thought because they weren’t unusual around here. Frank had been through many caves looking for quartz, even the one at Wilkie’s, but that’s been a few years ago. 

We hiked back to the gate being careful to stay out of sight. At least we didn’t have to worry about the dogs until we left the grounds. Well, that’s what we thought. We would soon find out the dogs came back onto the property through the one-way dog door in the fence. Apparently, this wasn’t the first time they had escaped. 

Mike the first to see them, pointed up the hill, as they ran toward us. “The dogs are back.”

We all took off running. John leading the retreat to the gate, swung the guitar door open and jumped through, then helped the rest of us in our escape. I was the smallest, slowest and last. The dogs were nipped at my heels. No joke, they actually grabbed my shoe and pulled it off as I dove through the opening. John slammed and latched the door. We were safe until tomorrow, but we needed a better plan. 

Mike and Frank laughed hysterically at my predicament calling me shoeless Kevin. This is how it worked John was now off the hook even though his underwear was the only clothing covering his skinny butt. I wasn’t worried. Someone else would soon pull a boner and I’d be clear.

We headed back home, tired, dirty, and two of us missing parts of our clothing. Coming up with a good story for Mom would be a challenge. She's heard it all.

* * *

 

The next morning we met at the usual spot, on the diving rock at the quarry. The plan was to go caving today, but we needed a plan to deal with the dogs. Frank arrived last and without a pie.

Mike spread his arms and shrugged his shoulders, looking at Frank. “Did you forget something?” 

“No, what was I supposed to bring?”

“It starts with the letter P and ends with YUMMY.”

Frank laughed. Sometimes Mike’s comments were funny. “You didn’t earn a pie, besides there’s a piece still stuck to your face from yesterday.”

“Ha, Ha.” Mike rubbed his face.

 I tried to redirect the conversation. “Can we talk about what we’re going to do?”

Mike stood up reached in his back pocket and pulled out a slingshot. “Whata ya think? Proudly displaying a perfect Y-shaped ash slingshot. “I made it myself.” 

“Great job, but what are you going to do with it?” Frank asked. 

Mike reached in his shirt and pulled out a bag. “Dog treats. I’m going to shoot dog treats at them.”

I hesitated then shrugged my shoulders, “Anybody else got an idea?” No one answered. “Anybody? . . . Anybody? . . . Okay, slingshot dog treats it is.”

We started walking up the hill to the star’s mansion.

I punched John’s shoulder. “What did you tell your mom about the pants?”

John smiled. “I told her the new librarian, Miss Hot Pants, chased me around the bookshelf and I ripped them on a file cabinet.”

“Oh! That’s believable.” I shook my head. “In your dreams.”

“Yeah, Mom didn’t fall for it either,” John said. “She told me make up another story without the word library in it.”

“And?”

“I told her I tore it on a barbed wire fence when I climbed over to chase a cow.” John shrugged. “That she believed.”

“You’re good. . . Nobody was home at my house, so I threw my shoe in the trash and took a pair of my brother’s.”

John shot me a thumbs up. “Cool!”

We walked up the road to the mansion past the big iron gates. Frank knew a way to get in which was closer to the cave. It was a good distance from the main house, so maybe the dogs wouldn’t see us. We came to a large tree next to the barbed wire fence. 

Frank folded his arms and said with pride. “See, all we need to do is climb the tree, shimmy across the branch that hangs over the fence, then drop to the ground.”

“That’s great,” I scratched my head. “But how do we get back out?”

Frank peeked through the fence. “Hmm, I haven’t figured that part out yet.”

“But the fence has barbed wire on it.” John pointed up. “What if I rip my pants again?”

Mike put his hand on his knees. “If you’re worried about that, just take them off.”

“Yeah, real funny Mike.” 

I ignored them and started to climb the tree while they continued to argue. I scaled the tree with ease and scooted over the branch then jumped into the yard. They were still arguing when I grabbed the chain-link fence and shook it. They hadn’t even noticed I was already on the other side. “Hey, jackasses! Let’s go. You’re wasting time.”

Frank immediately walked over and started his climb. Mike and John followed behind.

Mike had his slingshot loaded as we hiked up the hill to the cave, but there were no guard dogs in sight. As we walked in we saw obvious signs this was where they held dogfights. There was a fenced pit, benches around the perimeter for the gamblers and cages for the dogs. We were kids but we weren’t stupid. This was an illegal sport that brought in a lot of money. We split up and roamed through the connecting chambers looking for more evidence. As I snapped pictures with my Kodak Instamatic camera, I heard John yell.  

We all ran toward his voice. He was in a chamber with bars and gate at the entrance standing next to a cage with a battered dog lying in it. John squatted down. “I think it’s dead.”

 Mike put his hands on his hips. “Yeah, freshly dead.”

I turned toward Mike. “Freshly dead? You mean recently dead.”

“Yeah, same thing.”

“We’re talking about a dog, not a tray of strawberries.” 

Mike always put his twist of humor on every situation, just his way of dealing with a difficult home life. We tried to ignore it, but sometimes it was impossible. 

Discovering the dog and taking photos of the ring, we knew it was time to make a trip to see the sheriff. We didn’t find any money, but now we were pretty sure of the source. The things we found were disturbing. It hit John especially hard, because he discovered the dead dog. 

We walked down the hill toward the tree where we first entered, I asked, “Frank, any ideas on how to get out of here?” 

“Let’s go back to the main gate. Maybe the door’s still unlocked.” He pointed toward the fence. “We can walk the fence line to keep out of sight.”

“Okay, but if it’s locked we’re screwed.” 

As we walked back to the gate, Mike dragged a stick along the fence making the repetitive and annoying clack as the stick hit each metal link. 

Frank threw a pebble at Mike. “Is that really necessary?”

“What?”

“Dragging the stick on the fence. We need to be quiet, dumbass.”

Mike pulled the stick off the fence, then said. “Look a dog-door.” 

“It’s where the dogs re-entered the property.” John bent down to take a closer look. “We could try using this instead of walking all the way to the main gate.”

I agreed. “The door on the main gate could be locked, so it’s worth a try.”

“There’s a spring that closes the opening once the dog goes through.” Frank reached down. “It’s a one-way door, but we can pull the tines in so we can crawl through.” 

John pulled on the tines. “Kevin you’re the smallest. Give it a try.”

Frank got on the opposite side of the door and held the prongs. I got down on my knees and put my head through the hole then wiggled through. Once I made it to the outside I stood and said. “That was pretty easy.”

Mike went next and came through with ease, but just as his feet touched the ground we heard the dogs. “They’re coming. Hurry up.”

Frank went next. He was the strongest and would be better at holding the tines open for John. He struggled more than Mike and I but made it through to the outside. He quickly turned around to hold the door open. I pushed on the other side to help Frank as John’s head popped out. 

Mike loaded and cocked the slingshot. “Speed it up John, the dogs are getting close.”

I yelled, “Shoot the dog treats now.”

Mike let loose with his first shot. “Ping” we heard it hit the fence. He took a second shot. “Ping” The fence took another hit. Mike’s third shot ricocheted off the barbed wire hitting John in the face.

“Ouch, what the hell, Mike?” John was only half way through. 

Frank shouted, “Hey Annie Oakley. Try shooting over the fence.” 

Mystery at the Swimming Hole - pg 6-11

* * *

The next morning we went to the quarry without a plan and waited by the rock until everyone arrived. We reached down and hoisted the rock up to pull the bag out. 

            “What the hell!” John screamed. “It’s gone. That can’t be.”

Each of us surveyed each other with a wisp of suspicion, we all had our reasons foe needing the money, but to cheat a friend was not something any of us would do.  

            Frank reached in the hole and snatched a piece of paper up that was lying at the bottom. He opened it. “It’s a note. Keep quiet about the money. Be smart and live longer.” Frank grunted, “Now we really need a plan.”  

            Mike dropped to his knees. “There goes my chance to get away.”

            I rubbed the back of my head. “I was going to use that money to take some courses in writing.”

            “That blew my chance to get a car.” Frank put his hands on his knees.

            “Stop bitching.” John huffed. “What are we gonna do now?”

            “There’s not much we can do.” Frank said. “The money’s gone, but at least we’re in the clear.”

            Dejected we walked back to town. A slow and quiet walk, even with 
Mike., usually, we could never shut him up.

            We all headed back home. When Mike walked past the hardware store on the way to his house, he saw a stranger enter. We didn’t see a lot of strangers here. This was not a town where people spent their free time. Peculiar enough that Mike wanted to check it out, so he followed him.

Mike pretended to shop, but Charlie, the store owner watched him closely, because he knew the locals that had money, Mike wasn’t one. The stranger gathered up some camping supplies and flashed a hundred dollar bill at the checkout counter.      

            Seeing that, Mike said, “Wow, mister I’ve never seen that much money.”  Mike never shy about speaking his mind asked. “How’d you get it?” 

“I’m an adventure seeker. People pay me to find things.” He puffed out his chest. “I’m good at it and highly paid.” 

            “That’s cool. I’d like to do that someday.” Mike smirked. What a jackass!

Mike left but sneaked around the corner of the building to watch the guy as he left. He walked down the street to the hotel. A couple minutes later he and another guy came out carrying scuba tanks and put them into the trunk of a car. It was the same car we spotted at the quarry parking lot. 

Instead of going home, Mike came to see me. “Kevin, I saw the guys from the quarry. One guy paid for stuff he bought with a hundred dollar bill.”

“It could be a coincidence, not everybody is poor like us.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know, but it seems suspicious.” Mike’s hands fluttered in the air, which he did frequently when excited, “And he was a real jackass.”

            “Oh a jackass! Well that cinches it. He must be guilty.” I grinned. “Based on that information half the townspeople are guilty.”

            “Seriously, I know they’re the guys who took the money.” Mike paced. “There must be a third guy involved, the one that saw us hide the money.”

            “So, what are we supposed to do about it?” I asked.

            “They’re staying at the hotel,” Mike said. “Lets check their room for clues.”

            “You mean, break into their room?”

            Trying to soften the comment, Mike said. “Just nose around in their room. Hmm! let’s see what the guys think.”

* * * 

The car was pulled out of the quarry and the woman’s body taken to the coroner. She was shot three times with a small caliber handgun, dead before the car plunged into the water. The small town police now had a murder on their hands. They never dealt with a murder and knew they were in over their heads.             

The waterlogged ’67 Malibu was registered to Lindy Thomas from Illinois. She worked in the entertainment business as an agent. Small time compared to many, she had moderate success. Just not successful enough to have thirty thousand cash in the trunk of her car, but the police had no knowledge of any money at that point. They needed to speak to the divers but they had no luck locating them. 

* * *

You could see Frank’s eyes widen when Mike explained the plan, “You wanna do what?”

“It’s not as bad as it sounds.” Mike insisted.

John stood shaking his head, “Really, cause it sounds pretty bad.”

“We need to find out more about these two guys.” Mike ran his hands through his hair. “We’ll be in and out in no time, but we need your help to be the look out and distract the clerk.”

            Reluctantly Frank and John agreed. John would be the lookout and Frank would distract the clerk, while Kevin and Mike rummaged through the room looking for clues.

            Frank insisted this was a bad plan especially for him, being the oldest. Kevin agreed with Frank but told him it was the only way they could find the money.  

As they walked toward the hotel they saw the clerk emptied a trashcan into the dumpster and grumbled loudly about the suspicious out-of-town guests. They had frequent one-hour guest but not many out-of-towners.

            The waited until he left before looking at the trash he just tossed. 

“Lift me up.” Mike grabbed onto the metal container.

We hoisted him up and he jumped in. Mike stood up after a minute holding a bunch of papers. “It’s what we were looking for without a breaking and entering charge.”  

* * * 

Two officers showed up the hotel to ask questions about the strangers. The desk clerk didn’t know anything, except they were gone, didn’t even check out, must have left town. He was upset because they left a mess for him to clean up, a lot of papers, even a map with markings all over it. He pitched it all in the dumpster. When the police went to take a look at the trash the evidence was gone. 

The clerk scratched his head and motioned to the officers, “All I can tell you is that it was here earlier. There were some kids noising around, but why would they want it.” He threw his hands up and walked away.

* * *

When we spotted the police car we drug Mike out of the trash container and scattered, relieved that we found something and we weren’t caught. The most useful item we found was the map, as well as a name we all recognized. The local celebrity, a country singer by the name of Tad Wilkins, he went by the nickname Wilkie. The mansion he owned covered twenty acres and had massive iron gates decorated with two polished stainless-steel guitars at least eight foot tall. The necks of the instruments crossed when they were closed. So easy to see how impressed he was with himself.

            “Let’s go.” Frank started walking up the hill. 

            He didn’t need to explain. No surprise, we were going to the mansion. There was one surprise, when we arrived. No, two surprises -- guard dogs, two Dobermans. We needed a plan to distract the dogs. Food was the best idea we had, the only one really. John had some beef jerky. He always carried some version of dried meat. Who doesn’t love dried meat? He pulled a couple strips from his pocket, caked with lint, and smiled.

            “The dogs won’t mind.” He assured us this would work.

            While standing by the gate trying to figure a way to entice the dogs, we noticed one of the metal guitars had hinges. Frank walked over to check and discovered it was actually a door and left unlocked. This could be the answer. Now all we had to do was open the guitar door let the dogs smell the jerky so they would jump through to the outside. That was it, simple, but we needed to do it without getting our arms chewed off.

Really, what could possibly go wrong? The beef jerky would be too enticing for the dogs to resist. The one thing we didn’t count on was the pocket full of jerky John still had in his pants. 

Turned out the dogs wanted all of it, not just the two pieces we offered up as bait. John tossed the jerky to the side of the road. One dog ran after it but the other stayed growling at John. The dog wore a collar with the name, Tiger, was displayed in spiked studs. As John backed up toward the gate, Tiger moved to match his pace. Frank, Mike, and I had already stepped through the opening and urged John to do the same. We attempted to distract the dog, but his focus was locked on John. I held the door open and Frank used a stick to keep the dog at bay.

Mike yelled, “Just do it. Go now.”

John turned and charged for the door. Tiger lunged for John. The stick Frank used to keep the dog away broke in half, but it slowed the animal enough for John to get one leg through the gate. As he pulled his other foot up Tiger snared John’s back pocket containing the jerky and ripped his pocket off as well as the back of his pants. As soon as the dog had the jerky, he was satisfied. John escaped without harm. The pants John wore would require an elaborate explanation to his mom without giving away our escapades. 

Mike slapped John on the back of his head. “Hey, dumbass. Why didn’t you throw all the jerky to the side of the road?”

“Well, you know I get hungry.”

“Jeeze!” Frank threw up his hands.