Episode 3... In which our heroes enter an all new labyrinth...

Another crime has been committed. The adults in charge do not take it seriously. And so Lucy and Seven are given another opportunity to solve a mysterious puzzle of pivotal importance. Their new client tells them her story, but is she leaving out important details?

I am your host, August Island resident and discoverer of this book, Oosh Sinclaire. As I sipped my morning coffee from my porch, and with the soothing sounds of waves crashing in the distance, I was reading listener emails. To your positive remarks, they are much appreciated. And to your questions, much will be revealed in the next installment of the August Island Society of Young Detectives. 

In this episode, we will read chapters 11-16. Enjoy!

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If you have any information about who wrote this book, please email me at whowroteaugustisland@gmail.com

"It quickly became my favorite bedtime story and mystery novel."  R. Brady (age 10)  -- City Island, NY

"This modern day mythic adventure captures the joy and wonder of our Island home beautifully and my kids adore it. It's like a modern fairytale. "  J. Lippart (age 43) -- August Island, NJ 

For more info, email james.oosh.caverly@gmail.com and visit jcaverly.com

For more info, email james.oosh.caverly@gmail.com and visit jcaverly.com

Transcript

Episode 3

“Cheers to narrow escapes and formation of folklore.”
 --a quote by Cecilia Balsamo; a toast given at one of her dinner parties. 

Chapter 10

Mystery Solved or Follow the Light

When Lucy got back to the harbor, she and Seven hugged each other with happy screams and giddy laughter, dazed by the amazement and gratitude that they had pulled it off.  

Lucy’s mom and Seven’s parents received word from neighbors of the wild goings-on and ran down to the harbor, along with all of Seven’s ten brothers and sisters. 

News spread quickly around the community, and residents and visitors gathered on the docks to a near dock-sinking volume. Seven’s four-year-old brother Billy was accidentally elbowed into the water, but he was scooped up safely by Seven’s sister Mary. Eventually, more than one hundred August Island residents were in attendance when the police boat returned the crooks to the harbor handcuffed and defeated. 

Hazel pressed through the crowd until she found her daughter. She hugged her tightly and adjusted the towel Lucy was wrapped in. Seven pushed through the crowd to find her family, who were all asking questions at the same time. 

Officer Sullivan made his way through the mobs of excited locals to congratulate the two young detectives on a job well done and to get an official statement, which quickly turned into a spellbinding tale of heroism told by Lucy and Seven atop a stack of crab traps, with everyone at the harbor captivated by every word.

Captain Tippytoe was not seen at the harbor that morning. 

Later that week, the August Island Gazette ran a cover story on the young detectives, with a large photo of Lucy and Seven at the scene of the crime each holding a pint of Sweet Tea tomatoes and a ten-mile smile. The paper was framed and proudly hangs in the lobby of the Flying Cow Inn. 

*          *          *

That night Lucy went to sleep late, as she had trouble calming her brain after all the excitement. In her window-filled room, she sat at her desk and looked at her favorite photo of Buddy; her sweet mutt sitting proudly at the beach, a frisbee at his feet, and low tide in the background. He looked at the camera with a smirk that said, There’s no other place I’d rather be.

“We got ‘em Buddy,” she said to him through the photo. “All is good on August Island… at least for tonight.”

Lucy heard some barks from a neighborhood dog in the distance, but this time they gave her a snuggle of joy as if Buddy was congratulating her on a job well done.

Lucy rolled into bed, crawling under a cool sheet. The bare spot by her feet where Buddy always slept somehow felt warm. 

Lucy lay on her side, looking east through a window to the glow of the streetlights and the vague horizon line that separated the dark blue sky from the black ocean water. A cool salty breeze flew in to say goodnight. It smelled of spring with a hint of summer. The night was quiet, with a car driving by every few minutes.

Lucy thought about Buddy as her eyes began to close. She thought about how she’d failed to solve that case. She wished more than anything she had not thrown the frisbee one last time. She thought about Seven and how easy life moved when they were together. She thought about her mom. She thought about what it must have felt like when the police walked up to the Inn’s front desk to report that Lucy’s dad’s commercial fishing boat had sunk at sea with no survivors. She wondered if she too had felt the pain from inside her mama’s belly. She thought about the peaceful silence of the shockingly cold water of the Atlantic Ocean. She thought about the people in her life she could trust and those she could not. 

 Echoes of light from the spinning beacon of the August Island Lighthouse snuck in through Lucy’s windows and hypnotized her to sleep. It spun around and around and around offering safe passage to anyone else out there who needed it. 

*          *          *

At 2:12 am, Lucy was woken up by a scream. Her eyes opened. Her body shot out of bed. She kept still and silent, listening closely.

Nothing. 

Was I dreaming? she considered. 

From her bedroom lookout tower, Lucy inspected the surrounding streets and yards. She had a suspicion it came from the mansion across the street, where Cecilia, the eccentric old Italian lady, lived with her parrot and Komodo dragon. 

Lucy looked down at the very old, very large, and, at least at that moment, creepy mansion. One light was on, but there was no observable commotion. Everything appeared still. The exhaustion from the day’s events guided her head back to her pillow. 

*          *          *

Lucy fell into a deep sleep until she awoke the next day in the late morning. 

It was Sunday. Lucy took her time getting dressed. 

She walked downstairs to the Flying Cow Inn’s kitchen. Her mom was finishing up the big Sunday breakfast. 

“Good morning, my little detective,” her mom announced. Hazel put the broom down and brought her daughter a re-heated plate of inverted French toast and a mug of black coffee. “Should I call you Inspector Lucy Barlow? Or Detective Barlow? Or Inspector Detect—”

“Mom,” Lucy interrupted, “did you hear a scream last night at precisely 2:12 am… perhaps from Cecilia’s mansion?”

“Yes. I did, actually. It scared the bajeezus outta me,” her mother replied, wringing out a white rag into a large metal sink. “I thought I had dreamt it, but I’m pretty sure I did not because Cecilia keeps calling here like every ten minutes looking to meet with you. I keep asking her why, but she keeps telling me she can only talk to you and Seven. I keep telling her you’ll be over shortly.”

Joy, excitement, eagerness, nervousness, delight, satisfaction, and a bunch of other emotions exploded in Lucy’s brain. “I gotta call Seven.”

“I already did, baby doll. She should be waiting outside Cecilia’s in a few minutes.” Hazel wiped her hands clean against her apron. “And I was thinking, if you guys planning on solving more mysteries, you can clear out a space in the basement. It can be your headquarters. You can use the storm door as your own private entrance and everything.”

Lucy hoisted her short body onto the counter and smooched her mom on the cheek. She jammed the last bit of inverted French toast into her mouth, took her coffee to go, and flew out the side door of the Flying Cow Inn to meet Seven in front of Cecilia’s mansion. 

The next game was afoot. 

Part III
“Cheers to narrow escapes and formation of folklore.”
 --Cecilia Balsamo; a toast given at one of her dinner parties.

Chapter 11

A Brief History of August Island or The Legend of Captain Zeppole

August Island sits 2.98 miles off the coast of New Jersey. It is nine-square miles of rich soil, bedrock, hills, streams, animal life, farmland, and lush forest with over twenty-one varieties of trees. The first settlement was founded in 1800 by a crew of fishermen lead by Captain Zeppole on his ship The Estranged Prince. 

Legends state that the ship’s crew discovered the Island accidentally in 1799 after running the ship aground during a brief but phenomenally dense fog. There are claims that August Island had not existed before Captain Zeppole and his crew discovered it, as if it had risen from the sea in less than a day.

As far as anyone is aware, there are no records of August Island existing before the Estranged Prince discovered it. The idea that August Island appeared out of thin air is difficult to comprehend, of course, and so the idea that the Island was simply never drawn on a map prior to 1799 is the rationalized belief among local historians, geographers, and geologists. However, not everyone believes the logical explanation. 

Records state that after coming home from their first run-in with the Island, Captain Zeppole and his crew soon traveled back. Some say the Island’s mystery sang to them. Each time they visited, they stayed longer and longer. 

Upon returning to mainland New Jersey, the Captain and his crew attempted to convince others of the Island’s mystical qualities, but such efforts led them to be laughed at and ostracized by a community that had once respected them. 

It wasn’t long before Captain Zeppole and his crew moved their families to the Island permanently to start a new and more fulfilling life. They named it August Island and with modest effort, they thrived quickly. Freshwater springs provided clean drinking water, which was said to have remarkable healing powers. Rich soil blessed them with prosperous crops that, as the story goes, grew over night. And a variety of animals that were in seemingly perfect balance provided an abundance of game to hunt. 

Together the settlers decided that keeping the Island’s magic a secret was beneficial to them and their new home. August Island’s original settlers formed a bond that was never to be broken. 

A decade passed and outsiders from the mainland began moving to August Island. The original settlers welcomed them with thorough generosity. The settlement soon grew into a village, offering its people a wonderful life.

Today, August Island is a bustling community of year-round residents and visitors from all over the world. Some residents know the stories of Captain Zeppole in detail, but many pass on the convenient fable that the Estranged Prince’s crew was a pack of pirates who settled in August Island to retire from their wicked ways. 

In addition to August Island’s historical folklore, Island residents pass around tales of strange phenomena. Some are legends, while other stories are considered indisputable. 

One strange fact is how Sweet Tea Cherry Tomatoes have never been successfully grown anywhere except August Island. Many outsiders have tried to harvest them on the mainland, but the plants bare no fruit.

Another oddity is that no hurricane has ever hit the Island. Even while a hurricane slams into the mainland of New Jersey, New York and Connecticut, the wind velocity on and around the Island is always well below hurricane speed. Scientists have mostly ignored the anomaly instead of trying to make sense of it. 

Cell phones have never worked on August Island, despite nine telecommunication companies building towers. Standard phone and hardline internet service is operational with wires strung underwater from the mainland, but cell phones have never worked. 

On multiple occasions, residents have reported witnessing rain suddenly stop, with all its droplets hovering in midair for a brief moment. Another legend is that during eclipses, all the Island’s birds come together in the Whisper Woods and sing in unison.

And as described in the tale of Captain Zeppole, stories of brief but blindingly dense fog hitting the Island have been reported. Newspaper articles from the August Island Gazette have logged a few of these strange occurrences over the decades.

Captain Zeppole and his crew lived long, healthy, and happy lives on August Island. They felt the Island offered peace of mind they could never have experienced anywhere else. All the original settlers have descendants who live on the Island today, and variations of the Captain Zeppole fairytales have been passed through the generations. And while the centuries passing have either caused these stories to change or be forgotten, they have never grown less important to the Island itself. 

Chapter 12

The Next Case or Entering the Labyrinth

            Lucy burst out the front entrance of the Flying Cow Inn and across the street to Cecilia mansion. 

It was 1:05 pm. August Island was in full Sunday-Afternoon bloom. The Sun’s soothing rays burst through a cloud dappled sky. The salty air was a still 74 degrees. Locals and tourists were strolling along, going to and from the beach. There were surfers in the water and the boardwalk was lively. 

            “Lucy!” Seven yelled as she flew towards her best friend on her yellow hand-me-down beach cruiser. She rolled up and hopped off her bike, leaning it against the tall iron fence that surrounded Cecilia’s expansive property. 

            “What do we know so far?” Seven asked Lucy as they walked through Cecilia’s front gate. It was unlocked and wide open, as it always was.  

            “A scream was heard at 2:12 AM and Cecilia wants to see us immediately,” Lucy reported as they scurried along a slate path through Cecilia’s rose garden leading to her large front door.

            Cecilia’s mansion was an 8000 square foot Victorian style home built in 1802, as stated on a brass plaque displayed next to the front gate. The entire property took up an city block, with three stories, countless rooms, and a massive, lush garden surrounding the mansion. Cecilia lived there alone with her Komodo dragon Elio and her macaw parrot Mona. Lucy had been friendly with Cecilia as long as she could remember, but she had never been inside her house. Years of distant glances through the windows had only painted a picture in her mind. 

            Cecilia was 81 years old but had the energy of someone much younger. However, she had not left her property in almost fifteen years, due to her intense fear of open spaces, a condition called agoraphobia. She employed a gardener who kept the property beautiful and helped Cecilia with a variety of personal needs made difficult by her disorder. 

Anyone who knew Cecilia, which, despite her condition, was most locals, knew she had been born on the Island, then moved to Italy for most of her life, and had returned in her later years. The Island’s song sang to her too.

            Lucy and Seven walked up five worn stone steps leading to an impressive front door of dark wood layered with detailed hand-crafted carvings. Lucy put her hand up to a hefty brass door knocker. It was a gargoyle’s face winking mischievously at all who knocked. Lucy winked back.

Abruptly, the door flew open revealing the tense face of Cecilia Balsamo. She wore a long and flowy green and gold dress. A collection of necklaces hung around her neck. Her eyes were red from crying.

            “Come in ladies, come in,” she announced in her Italian accent, punctuating her orders intensely with her hands. “Please hurry, we have much to discuss.” She turned around briskly and walked through her foyer, expecting the two detectives to follow close behind. Her long grey hair bounced as she zipped through her home.

Lucy and Seven stepped in slowly. The grand entrance presented a massive chandelier, a double wrap-around staircase leading to a balcony above them, and walls adorned with eclectic oil paintings and old photographs set in elegant antique frames. A wonderful aroma filled the room from a massive bouquet of fresh flowers rested in a golden vase atop a golden pedestal in the middle of the room. 

            As the girls carefully walked around a bear-skin rug, Cecilia turned around to see the two young detectives lagging behind. “Come on ladies, keep up,” she insisted. “We’ve got work to do. Follow me!”

Lucy scurried along to catch up, while Seven whipped around after realizing she had left the door wide open. 

“I’m sorry Cecilia, I forgot to close the door,” Seven announced, stumbling over her words and the growling head of the bear-skin rug. 

            “Never mind the door,” Cecilia ordered, continuing into the house. “Doors have been left open many times with little consequence. Our priorities are of a far more significant nature. Follow me.”  Seven turned back around awkwardly and caught up to them all over again.

            “Hurry, hurry,” Cecilia insisted. “This way.” 

            Lucy and Seven traded glances. The detail and sheer volume of stuff living in the mansion was far grander than anything their imagination had suggested. Cecilia guided them down wide hallways, passing a possibly endless number of doorways through which Lucy and Seven could see old furniture, stained glass windows, thousands of books, and a vast collection of relics from a life lived lavishly. 

They scampered by a white tiled kitchen, a stairway leading to a dark basement, an office decorated in a nautical theme, various closed doors each numbered, and three more hallways. They made a left turn and headed up a flight of stairs, after which they passed an art studio loaded with paints, brushes, and countless brightly painted canvasses on the floor. They passed at least seven bedrooms and a library containing brown leather sofas and chairs among a vast collection of books, statues, trinkets, and walls filled with even more paintings. They turned left three times. All the while Cecilia remained silent as Lucy and Seven did their best to keep up while absorbing the spectacle of this house that felt more maze than home.

            At the end of the longest hallway yet, they walked up a narrow winding copper staircase. It led to an even narrower hallway and to a small door that Cecilia pushed opened briskly. 

Ducking their heads, their claustrophobia gave way to a new world of spectacular tall glass ceilings, walls of windows, an earthy aroma of a thousand fresh flowers, and a warm hug from the sun pouring in. The entire third floor was a lush greenhouse with seemingly never-ending garden paths to rare plants and imported sculptures. 

 “Welcome to the scene of the crime, I left it just as it was.”

            “Aaaaaaaaah,” Seven screamed with terror. She escaped to the hallway.

            “Don’t be silly, Seven,” Cecilia scolded, leaning down to pet the four-foot Komodo dragon that Seven had tripped over. The animal, lying in a golden patch of sun, lifted its chin and seemed to smile. “You know Elio… he’s harmless. Get back in here. We must get started immediately.” 

            “I’ve… I’ve… I’ve never seen him so close before,” explained Seven as she crept back into the room and around Elio carefully.

“Have a seat, please,” Cecilia instructed. She pointed to a golden wicker loveseat between two ferns larger than Lucy and Seven combined. They took a sat, waiting to hear what this was all about. “Ladies, I have asked you hear today to report that something terrible has happened.” Cecilia remained standing, pacing back and forth. “Last night someone broke into my house… and Mona, my beloved parrot and best friend… was kidnapped!” 

Lucy gasped. Her throat went dry. 

“I’m so sorry,” Seven consoled. “This is terrible.”    

 “As soon as I saw my sweet Mona had been ripped from her cage, I… I…” she paused, head down, tears fell from her eyes. “I knew she’d been kidnapped. There is no other explanation.” 

            Cecilia composed herself quickly, but her voice continued to tremble. “I wish to hire the two of you to find her.” 

Lucy could feel the vibrations of the deep sadness in Cecilia’s voice. A swarm of butterflies flew inside her stomach as she thought about Buddy. Was this connected to Buddy somehow? She thought.

“Start at the beginning, Cecilia,” Lucy encouraged. “Tell us everything.” 

Chapter 13

A Curious Dinner Party or A House of Clues 

            “I had a dinner party last night,” Cecilia began. Lucy and Seven each pulled out a spiral notebook and a Flying Cow Inn branded pen. “Five guests. All of whom I have known for decades. They arrived at 6:30 pm. Mona was on my shoulder; Elio was at my feet. They’re always the life of the party. We had our meeting and then shared an outstanding meal delivered to us by the Boat House Restaurant. We finished around 9 and then retired to the west den for brandy, where we discussed… well… we discussed… we--"

            “Discussed what?” Seven asked.

            “Just talked, that’s all,” Cecilia answered impatiently. 

            “And who was there?” asked Lucy.

            “Old friends. All local from the Island. I’m sure you know most of them.” 

            “This meeting before dinner… what was the meeting about?” asked Seven.

            Cecilia’s eyes widened as if she were being interrogated, “I mean I greeted my guests before dinner.”

            “I see,” said Seven, jotting a note.

Cecilia continued: “By around 11 pm, everyone had gone home. I brought Mona and Elio up here to tuck them into bed. I came down to the first floor to finish writing a letter to an old university friend, and then started another letter to Herman, my former gardener who, as you may know, recently moved back to Greece to take care of his brother, who has not been well. I went to bed around midnight.”

“And how was the dinner party? Did you have a good time?” 

Cecilia paused to think, then flatly said, “It was fine.” Cecilia continued: “At around 2 am, I was awakened by Mona screeching with a few warning squawks. They were short and desperate. I knew something was terribly wrong. It took me some time, but I ran up here as fast as I could, and that’s when I discovered Mona had been stolen. Elio was asleep and snoring loudly as usual.” She looked down at Elio and raised her voice: “I love you, but you couldn’t save a bee from a bowl of honey.” Cecilia bent down to the large reptile who stared up at her sheepishly. “I am sorry, I did not mean to yell at you.” 

Cecilia held back tears as she plopped herself down in a wicker chair. She put her face in her hands. Lucy walked over and wrapped her arms around her. Lucy said nothing. She let her friend cry. 

Cecilia wiped away her tears, sniffed, then took a moment to compose herself. 

“When I was a young girl, I lived on August Island with my mama and papa here in this house,” Cecilia explained. “I was so happy. My father and I would often play hide and seek in this green house. See that nook over there?” She pointed between two tall potted plants with leaves the size of dinner plates. “I hid behind those two plants so many times, and my papa could never find me… or perhaps he was pretending to not see me… even lovelier.” 

She gave a sad smile and delicately shook her head. “Then one late night, my mother woke me up and told me we were leaving. She put a suitcase in my hands and demanded I be silent. She did not let me say goodbye to my papa. We drove to the dock, a private boat waited for us. I didn’t know where we were going or for how long. I kept asking, ‘Mama, Mama, where are we going?’ but she scolded me without an answer. Eventually we ended up at the airport. We were heading to her home country of Italy, and we would be gone forever.”

“That’s so sad,” Seven sympathized.

“I never saw my papa again. My mother raised me to believe that my father was a terrible man, and there was a time in my life when I believed her. She reprimanded me for just mentioning his name. But I still thought about him. And I was so angry. How could he never come see us? Or try to take us back home? Or write me a letter? 

Decades later I was tracked down by an American lawyer and given the news that my papa had passed away. When I came back to August Island, a few locals who had known my father told me he was a kind and generous man. I was told he was heartbroken when he lost me. I was told he traveled to Italy many times looking for me and my mother, but could never find us. My mother was an intensely secretive person… such a strange woman. 

I’ve never known who or what to believe about my father and mother. But what I have never understood… what really hurts me is that there isn’t a single picture of me and my papa anywhere in this house. I’ve looked all over, in every drawer, every box, behind every piece of furniture, in   book to see if one was ever used as a bookmark… nothing. If he loved me, why didn’t he have any pictures? It’s like I was erased from his memories… and as I grow older, the image of his face is disappearing from mine.”

Lucy’s arm was still around Cecilia. Seven had stopped taking notes and was just listening.

Cecilia continued: “The only thing left that connects me to my papa is our sweet parrot, Mona. Until I was taken away, each morning we took care of Mona together, feeding her eggs and sausage or bacon.” Cecilia looked down, and chuckled through a few tears, “Mona hates bird seed. My mama would insist on giving it to her, but Mona would pick it up in her beak and spit it back at her, like bullets… it frustrated both of them to no end.” Cecilia smirked. “Can you believe it… Mona remembered me when I returned to this house… she hadn’t seen me in forty-five years. As soon as I walked back into this house, she said, ‘Welcome back, Cecilia, I missed you’… Isn’t that amazing?”

“Woah, that’s crazy,” Lucy said.

“Wait, how old is Mona?” Seven asked.

“I have no idea. I don’t know when or where my father got her.”

“Jeez Louise,” Lucy said. “And how much does she talk?”

“Her vocabulary is vast for a parrot,” Cecilia explained. “At times it’s almost as if we have full conversations. Mona is like my big sister… and my best friend.” She looked down at Elio, who was looking directly at her, and said: “You and Mona are my best friends… of course Elio.”

“Please, Cecilia,” Lucy said. “Tell us more about what happened last night. Tell us every known detail of the kidnapping.”

            “As I said, it was about 2am when I heard Mona squawking for help. I jumped out of bed, calling her as I ran through the house and up to this room as fast as I could. And that’s when I found the cage and that window open.” Cecilia pointed to an open window on the west side of the room. “Mona was gone. I stuck my head out the window and looked all over the yard. I yelled for her outside and in the green house. No sign of her.”

            Seven looked up from her notes. “When you put Mona to sleep, did you close her cage door?”

            “Yes. I always do.”

            “Can Mona open her door?” Lucy asked.

            “It’s tough for her, but she can, but she doesn’t.”

            “And you definitely didn’t leave the window open?” Seven confirmed.

            “Definitely. It’s too cold this time of year to leave the window open at night. So I ran downstairs, but this darn house is so large it took me so long to get outside. I ran into the garden, calling for her, but there was only silence. I got to my front gate, but… but I just couldn’t get past it. I wanted so badly to leave this property and find her… but I couldn’t.”

            “That’s your agoraphobia, right?” began Lucy delicately. “You find it overwhelming to leave your property?”

            “Yes,” Cecilia said, looking down at her hands. “I get dizzy, my heart speeds up… I traveled all over the world for much of my life... but starting fourteen years ago, I developed this embarrassing disorder.”

            “Did Mona make any other noises besides those loud squawks?” Seven asked. 

            “No.”

“Do you find it odd she didn’t continue to squawk while being kidnapped?” Seven asked.

            “Absolutely,” Cecilia replied. “It has me fearing for the worst. I’m so ashamed of my agoraphobia. I wish Mr. Boa could have been here last night.”

            “Mr. Boa?” Lucy asked.

            “Mr. Boa is my new gardener,” Cecilia said. “He lives in my guest house. He is quite a comfort. He’s usually available when I need him, but he was off the Island yesterday and last night.”

            “Did the kidnapper leave any sort of ransom note?” asked Lucy.

            “No.”

            “Did you call the police,” Seven asked.

            “Yes. I went back inside the house and called them immediately. They arrived in about ten minutes, which felt like forever, and when they arrived it did not go well.”

            “How so?”

            “They did not take Mona’s disappearance seriously. They said it was my fault… that the window must have been open, and Mona flew away, and that I am not remembering correctly because I was distracted by my party guests. I thought Captain Tippytoe was my friend, but he and his deputy acted like it was no big deal and she’d fly back soon. It’s too cold at night to have the windows open this time of year, any fool knows that.”

            “Tippytoe!” Lucy commented. “That does not surprise me.”

            “He told me he’d write a police report,” Cecilia continued, “but only as a lost pet, not as a kidnapping or even a theft.”

            “That isn’t right,” Seven commented. 

            “This is why I called you two,” Cecilia said. “I knew you would take this seriously.”

“Cecilia, can you think of any reason why someone would steal Mona?” Lucy asked.

“No,” Cecilia answered sincerely. “I have nothing but friends in this community. I have no enemies… at least I thought so. I love my friends… and they love me.”

“Do you have any idea how the kidnapper may have entered the house and all the way up here?” Seven inquired. “Do you lock your doors at night?”  

            “Let me show you something,” Cecilia said. She walked them to the open window. “Look down there, against the side of the house.” Lucy and Seven stuck their heads out to peek. “See the trellis with the clematis plant climbing up the rungs? See how a few of the rungs are broken?”

            “Like someone was climbing it,” Seven surmised.

            “Yes,” Cecilia confirmed. “Those weren’t broken yesterday.”

            “So, someone climbed in?”

            “It appears so.”

            Lucy continued to look out the window. “The garden patch just below… that’s a lot of fresh loose dirt,” Lucy said thinking out loud. “I wonder…” Lucy pulled her head back in, and carefully inspected the windowsill and then the floor. Cecilia and Seven watched her, waiting for an explanation. “There’s no dirt or mud on the windowsill or the floor. You’d think there would be. Did you vacuum recently?” 

            “I did not,” Cecilia answered.

            “Aaaah,” Seven said, putting it together. “You’re suggesting that the kidnapper exited through the window but must have come into the greenhouse a different way.” 

            “Exactly.”

            “I don’t lock my doors at night,” Cecilia said. “This is August Island after all.”

            “Anyone could have entered your house,” said Seven.

            “Well…” Cecilia stopped herself.

            “Or likely a person who would have known your doors would be open,” Seven deduced, “and who knew you were the only one in the house.”

            “And this house is a maze,” Lucy added. “They would need to know how to get around your house… someone who has been here before… probably many times.”

            “The bad guy would need to sneak in undetected and quickly navigate their way up here without waking you up,” Seven added.

            “Cecilia, how do you get Elio up here?” Lucy asked, bending down to give him a pat on the head. “Does he climb that narrow staircase?” 

            “Oh no, the stairs are much too steep for him. I put him in the dumbwaiter,” she pointed to a little metal door in the wall two feet above the floor. “It’s a small elevator normally used for food or supplies. It goes from the kitchen on the first floor, to the ballroom on the second floor, and then up here to the third floor. Elio enjoys the ride.”

            “How much does Elio weigh?” Seven asked as they walked over to the dumbwaiter. 

“Elio is a mini-Komodo. He’s only 125 pounds,” Cecilia said, as she opened the doors of the dumbwaiter. “He climbs in, I hit the button, the door closes and he’s up here in no time at all.” Cecilia hit the button to demonstrate the savvy mechanism, but nothing happened. She hit the button a few more times. “Blast… it’s not working.”

Seven read the fine print on the factory plate below the dumbwaiter’s button, “Maximum Weight 135 pounds.” Seven and Lucy looked at each other, thinking the same thing.

“Cecilia, do you have a kitchen door to the outside?” Lucy asked.

“I do indeed.”

“And you do not keep the kitchen door locked?”

“Almost never.”

Lucy paused then explained it all: “The thief entered the house through the kitchen door. They then climbed into the dumbwaiter taking it up to the third floor, but they broke it because this person was much heavier than the maximum weight of 135 pounds. The bad guy grabbed Mona and quieted her quickly somehow. But then the bad guy panicked when they heard you calling for Mona or when you were coming up the stairs, and then fled out the window with Mona, scrambling down the trellis and breaking a few of the rungs along the way. He or she then fled on foot from there without being seen by you.”

            “So, it would be someone who knows this house well enough to know where and how to operate your dumbwaiter,” Seven added. 

            “How about your dinner guests, do they know your house well?” Lucy asked.

             “None of them would ever do this,” Cecilia defended. “They are my friends…” Cecilia’s face turned white at the thought. 

            “How well do they know your house?” Seven insisted.

            Reluctantly, Cecilia confessed, “Well, I’ve known them for many years… They were all so welcoming when I moved back to this house eighteen years ago. They have always treated me like family. I can’t go visit them out there, so they come here. They know this house very well.”

            “We’re going to need a list of their names and where to find them,” Seven said. Lucy studied Cecilia’s reaction.

            “They didn’t do this, they couldn’t do this… they wouldn’t do this,” Cecilia pleaded.

            “You are probably right, Cecilia.” Lucy agreed. “But they may be our only key to figuring out who did.” 

            “Fine,” Cecilia conceded with a sigh. “I’ll write you a list.”

            Seven poked her head back out the window.

            “So, if the kidnapper took the trellis to get out of here,” Seven considered, bringing her head back into the room. “Then they must have left footprints in all that dirt down there.”

            Lucy was already dashing down the stairs. 

Chapter 14

The Suspects or Mr. Boa

            A few minutes later, Cecilia was in her office writing the list of dinner party guests while Lucy and Seven were outside in her stunning garden that surrounded the mansion. 

The two detectives found their way to the flower patch below the third-floor window through which the kidnapper had exited. 

Lucy ran her hands over the dirt, tilting her head in different directions in search of footprints that might indicate the thief’s foot size and shoe style. “Nothing. I don’t see a single footprint.” 

Seven looked over the dirt and concurred.

Lucy took a few steps back to inspect the broken trellis, but what caught her eye was a three-foot-wide hole under a bush covered in pink flowers just starting to bud. She looked further in and found another hole. 

             “Hello young ladies,” said a friendly voice, startling Lucy and Seven as they were deep in thought. A short man in overalls carrying a shovel walked towards them. “I’m Cecilia’s new gardener, Mr. Boa,” he said. “I hear you are here to help us find poor Mona. Thank you very much for your assistance.”

            “It’s our pleasure,” Seven said. “Do you have any thoughts on the matter?”

            “It is so troubling to think of a stranger entering Cecilia’s house and stealing something so personal,” Mr. Boa said furrowing his brow to think. “If I can help you at all, you just let me know. I think you know about Cecilia’s condition… about how she can’t leave her property… so anything you need, you come find me.”

            “That’s very kind of you, thank you,” said Seven.

            “Where were you the night Mona went missing?” Lucy asked. Seven’s eyes grew wide as the shot of rudeness entered the air. 

            Mr. Boa was ready with a quick answer: “I was at my sister’s place last night, on the mainland. I slept over. She can vouch for me.”

            “The garden is so beautiful, we just love it,” Seven said, working to keep the peace. “Did you do any work in this garden today? We’re looking for footprints from the kidnapper.”

            “Yes, I laid down new soil and--.”

            “Gosh dang it!” Lucy barked, not holding back her frustration on the ruining of footprints. Seven was again disappointed in Lucy’s impoliteness. 

            “Mr. Boa,” Seven said. “Can you think of any reason why someone would steal Mona?”

            “I can’t,” Mr. Boa said. “I wonder if she flew off. I know Cecilia swears the windows were closed, but perhaps her being mistaken is more probable than a stranger breaking into the house to steal a common parrot that’s not worth much money.” 

            Cecilia walked over from the front of the house, envelope in hand. 

            “Good morning Mr. Boa,” Cecilia said. “I see you’ve met our detectives.”

            “Not officially,” he remarked.

            “This is Seven and Lucy,” Cecilia introduced.

            Mr. Boa and Seven shook hands, but Lucy ignored his outstretched hand as she inspected something in the dirt.

            “Cecilia, how is Herman? You said his brother is sick?” Seven asked. 

            “Herman’s latest postcard indicated he may not be coming back,” reported Cecilia sadly. “I hope to see him again one day. I miss him so. He has been such a friend over the last ten years. Luckily for me and all these flowers, Mr. Boa knocked on my door the week Herman left, having heard around town I needed a new gardener.” She looked at Mr. Boa. “He’s been nothing but a comfort.”

            “It’s my pleasure, ma’am,” Mr. Boa said. 

            Cecilia handed Seven a sealed envelope. “Here is the list of my guests from last night. It includes their names and where to find them. Also in there is a picture of my sweet Mona to help in your search.” 

            “Thank you, Cecilia,” Seven said, looking at the picture before putting the envelope in her pocket. Mona was looking into the camera, as if posing. She was a beautiful macaw parrot, with blue, red, green, and yellow patches all over her body. 

            Lucy continued to dig for something in the dirt. 

            “Mr. Boa,” Cecilia said, guiding him to one of the holes Lucy had noticed before. “Another hole? Are there that many sick dappled willows?” 

            “I’m being extra careful, Ms. Balsamo. It is a very contagious disease among plants, so this is the only way. And I could tell the soil needed reconstituting because the PH balance was way off.”

            Still digging, Lucy pulled from the soil a white piece of paper covered in illegible pen marks. She looked at it curiously. Without anyone seeing, she folded it carefully and put it in her pocket.  

            “It was lovely meeting you both,” Mr. Boa announced to Lucy and Seven. “I must get back to work. Those five-hundred pansies ain’t gonna to plant themselves. If you need anything, I’m here most days.”

            Mr. Boa headed towards the back section of the garden. 

“And I have much work to do inside,” Cecilia said to Lucy and Seven. “You are welcome to stay and continue to look around.”

“We’re done for now,” Lucy said.

“We’ll probably need to come back to investigate further or for some follow up questions.” Seven added. “Is that okay?”

“Yes of course. Any time.” 

Cecilia’s eyes began to turn red, as if she was about to tear up again. “It is my hope you find Mona soon.”

“We’ll do everything we can,” Lucy said. “We’ll work every day after school, and before school if we have to.”

            Cecilia bent down to Lucy to meet her eye to eye. “If she’s out there, she will come home, you’ll make sure of it… I can feel that.”

“I feel it too,” Lucy whispered.

Cecilia gently took Lucy by the hands, somehow holding them both softly and tight. “I saw how hard it was for you to lose Buddy,” Cecilia said. “I saw you crying. I saw you sitting on your porch for hours every day, waiting for him to come home. I saw the sadness on your face as you walked home alone after putting up countless missing posters. You did everything you could to find your sweet pup. I know you’ll do the same for Mona.”

            Squeezing her hands, Lucy said to her friend, neighbor, and client, “We won’t let you down.”

Chapter 15

Here’s the Key or A Can of Whipped Cream

Lucy and Seven scurried across the street to the Flying Cow Inn to review the case.

            “So, what are you thinking?” Seven asked, as they briskly walked. 

            “I’m thinking we gotta talk to everyone on this list.” 

            They walked onto the wraparound porch of the Inn. 

            “I’m thinking we need to learn more about the ‘meeting’ that went on at the dinner party, did you notice how--”

             “How flustered Cecilia got when you asked her about what they all talked about?” Lucy cut in, finishing Seven’s thought.

            “I certainly did.”

            Lucy pushed opened the thick mahogany front door of the Flying Cow Inn. Seven held it for a young couple walking out. The girls entered the lobby, waving “hi” to the employee at the front desk as he checked in a family. 

            “I’m thinking one of Cecilia’s five dinner guests knows who took the parrot,” Seven said. “It’s all too much of a coincidence. Shoot… I bet one of them stole Mona.”

            “I have that feeling too. But why would someone enter the mansion illegally, climb into that little dumbwaiter elevator, risk fighting off a Komodo dragon, and then steal a talkative parrot?”

            They walked up the stairs to the kitchen, trading good-mornings with a few guests.

            “What is so significant about Mona?” Seven asked spit-balling her thoughts. “Why not steal any of Cecilia’s other expensive antiques scattered around the house?”

“Are parrots worth a lot of money?” Lucy added. “Is this a special parrot? Does it lay golden eggs?”

“I would imagine intelligent birds are not the easiest creatures to keep, especially when they don’t want to be kept,” said Seven.

“And they’re so noisy,” Lucy added. “If any of the bad guy’s friends came over, they’d ask, is that a parrot I hear? Where did you get the parrot? Why do you have this parrot? What kind of excuse could you give when suddenly having an angry pet parrot in your house. ‘I just picked it up at the bird store that doesn’t exist on the Island…’ yeah, right.”

They entered the kitchen, Seven headed to the snack pantry, and Lucy went straight to the coffee pot. 

“I’m thinking motive is everything,” Lucy said. Seven made an excited “ooh” as she found a box of crackers.  Lucy Continued. “We need to find the one who benefits. Is this revenge? Is it a random act of being a total jerk? Why was there no ransom note?” Lucy paused. “Is it… is it… I don’t know…” 

“Is it connected to Buddy going missing?” Seven asked softly.

“I can’t help think it might be, but it seems unlikely.”

“Are you asking yourself if we find Mona, do we find Buddy?” 

“Maybe I am?”

Lucy poured herself and Seven some coffee. Their minds spun. Seven opened the fridge to get herself some milk. 

            “Oh!” Lucy exclaimed. She pulled out the scribbled paper she’d found in the dirt. “I found this in the garden.” She dusted some soil away and placed the paper on the kitchen counter. They sipped their coffee and stared.

            “What am I looking at?” Seven said.

            “I’m not sure. I found it in the patch of garden where the bad guy landed after climbing down the trellis.”

            The paper looked like a quickly drawn map. There were Xs scattered around. There was the letter “N” with an arrow pointing up, most likely indicating north.  

            “What’s up my little fellow freakazoids,” announced Hazel playfully as she walked into the kitchen. They pulled their eyes off the map. Hazel placed a tool bag and a box fan on the kitchen counter, then handed Lucy a key. “Here’s the key to the storm door for your headquarters.”

            “Sweet!” said Seven.

            “Thanks, Mom!” Lucy said with a smile. She reached up to give her mom a hug around the neck and a kiss on the cheek. With excited feet, they ran out of the kitchen.

            With the key, the map, the list, and their coffees in hand, Lucy and Seven scurried out the Flying Cow Inn’s front entrance. They ran across the wraparound porch, passing a line of guests enjoying the morning sun from rocking chairs. A moment later they were in the grass on the east side of the building turning the key to unlock the inn’s green metal storm doors. 

They pulled them open, then walked down five stone steps into the basement. Dusty old relics of the Flying Cow Inn’s past shined in rays of warm sunlight peaking in from small rectangular windows at the top of the walls. At that moment the Inn’s cellar was nothing more than a collection of objects forgotten, but it was about to become something far greater.

            Joyfully, Lucy and Seven spent the next two hours creating their detective headquarters. Four old bedside tables were put together to become their desks. A shelf was emptied and designated for all evidence. A beat-up China closet was cleared out for pens, spiral notebooks, flashlights, and any other detective tools they would no doubt acquire. White Christmas lights were hung on the ceiling for attractive warm lighting. Lucy set up a square folding table and chairs for brainstorming, snacks, and late-night meals. The girls rummaged and rifled to find an old cork board filled with push pins, which they hung with some wire from existing old nails in the slotted wooden ceiling. 

They discovered a mini refrigerator that seemed to be getting cold after plugging it in. They found a clock radio for timeliness and tunes, a full-size chalkboard, pencils, paper, a well-used brown leather couch, and some mismatched pieces of delightfully tacky art, which really tied the room together. Each forgotten artifact was given new appreciation and purpose. The room’s new life vibrated in its walls and floor.

            It was 1:25 when they felt their decetives HQ was complete. They ran up to the Flying Cow Inn’s kitchen and back down with lunch in hand.  

            Lucy stood up chewing a bite from her peanut butter and Fluff sandwich and pinned the scribbled map onto the cork board. Seven opened the sealed envelope that contained the list of Cecilia’s dinner guests from the night Mona was kidnapped. She read it to herself. 

            “Oh my goodness,” Seven said. 

            “What is it?” 

            “You’re not gonna believe this… well, you might.” Seven walked to the large cork board and tacked up the list for Lucy to read. 

            List of attendees of my dinner party:

Mr. Clutterbuck – Clutterbuck Family Cheese, 301 Elm Street

            Bartholomew Cornucopia – Captain Zeppole’s Toy Shop, 21 Main Street

            Stetson Albany – August Island Fine Jewelry, 88 Main Street

Mrs. Houston - Property owner / manager, 22 Maple Street

            Captain Tippytoe – Police Station, downtown

            “Tippytoe!” shouted Lucy. 

“How am I not surprised?” Seven added.

             “He was a guest at the dinner party, he participated in this meeting that Cecilia refuses to talk about, and then he investigated Mona’s disappearance only to say there is no crime. As detectives, I don’t think we’re supposed to believe in coincidences.”

            “What could his motive be?” Seven proposed.

            “Hopefully we can discover that when we start talking to everyone on this list.”

            “We know some of these people,” Seven said, examining the list more carefully. 

“Most of these people were at the town meeting on Friday,” Lucy explained. “Mr. Clutterbuck got super angry about the route of the July 4th parade. Mrs. Houston was the witch that yelled at me when I tried to tell everyone about the red truck.”

“Bartholomew Cornucopia owns the toy store,” Seven added. “He’s a bit weird but has always been friendly.”

“And this guy, Stetson Albany, the jeweler, stood up in the middle of the town meeting and randomly announced that the town should make all lying illegal, which confused everyone.”

“Huh?” Seven was confused too.

“I don’t know how else to explain that one.”

They pinned the list to the cork board. Above it they wrote: “SUSPECTS.” 

            Lucy was eager to talk to Captain Tippytoe, but Seven convinced her it would be best to first gather as much information as possible from the other suspects. Questioning Tippytoe would be a battle that would require as much ammo as they could muster. 

            “Let’s go downtown right now and talk to these shops owners,” Lucy suggested. 

            “It’s a sunny Sunday in May. All the shops will be too busy. We’re just going to annoy these people. I think we’ll have better luck tomorrow.” Though reluctant, Lucy agreed.

They planned to find Mrs. Houston the next morning. Lucy and Seven often saw her on their way to school as she was landscaping one of the many properties she owned on the Island. For today, their work was done. The starting pistol of this case would begin early the next morning. 

Lucy and Seven finished their lunch and then grabbed a few chocolate chip cookies from the pile left for guests in the sunroom. 

Chomping away, they ran outside and hopped on their bikes. They spent the rest of the afternoon in their usual world of sidewalk chalk, sand, water, basketball, and jump-rope. 

They joined a pack of their other August Island friends at the beach. Together they collected sea glass, followed a pair of horseshoe crabs, and played a marathon game of kick the can under and around the boardwalk until Seven had to leave, as it was her turn to make dinner for her entire 13-person family.

Lucy walked Seven home with their bikes at their sides. Lucy hung out with the giant Simon family, helping Seven by cutting vegetables and setting the table, until Seven’s mom invited her to stay for dinner. 

Lucy knew if she called to ask, her mom would say yes, but she didn’t want her mother eating alone. Hazel often worked twelve-hour days during the busy season. Dinner was a special time as much for Hazel as it was for Lucy.

*          *          *

When Lucy walked into the kitchen of the Flying Cow Inn, she found her mother with a streak of grease on her cheek and a monkey wrench in her back pocket, having just finished up for the day after installing a newly refurbished compressor in the finicky walk-in freezer. 

Lucy took her mama by the hand and brought her down to proudly present their newly organized detective HQ. Lucy showed off her desk, the way they organized the shelves, the utility closet, and a library stocked with three old phone books, some magazines, comic books, and a dictionary. At the cork board, Lucy went over the Missing Mona Case as it stood so far, making her mother promise not to tell anyone, due to detective-client privileges. Hazel grew as excited about the case as Lucy. 

The two of them went out to dinner that night, going to their usual spot, Teddy’s Diner. They sat at the counter, with Claudine, Lucy’s all-time favorite waitress, giving Lucy the can of whipped cream with her hot chocolate. 

Lucy and her mother munched, laughed, and chatted for nearly two hours over a 

three-course meal of salad, burgers, and custom-built ice cream sundaes. 

Hazel unveiled to Lucy a sketch of a new idea for the Inn that she’d come up with that afternoon. Every rented Flying Cow Inn bike would come with its own self-propelling bubble-maker installed under the seat. Bubbles would fly out the back as the rider pedaled. Lucy was impressed.

With ketchup on her chin, Hazel suddenly remembered that a couple of regulars named Larry and John, who had arrived that morning for their yearly week-long stay, had brought Lucy a three-month supply of Brentano’s Tastebud Exploding Lollipops, because they remembered Lucy always seemed to have one in her mouth. 

Hazel also filled Lucy in on some of the Inn’s gossip, which included a tale of one guest who complained the ice from the third-floor ice machine was too cold.

On their walk home, Lucy felt the pings of excitement as her mom said, “Only three days left of school, sweetie, and then you’ll be on summer vacation… the greatest thing of all time.” 

Lucy smiled. “These are gonna be the longest three days of my life,” she commented.

Lucy had big plans for the summer, one of which had already begun: to find Mona and the person or persons who kidnapped her. Getting answers about Buddy would hopefully come along with it.