 
## The Mystery of Merlin's Magic

By

Matt Musson

SMASHWORDS EDITION

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PUBLISHED BY:

Matt Musson on Smashwords

### The Mystery of Merlin's Magic

### Dedicated to Boys everywhere.

Copyright © 2009, 2011 by Matt Musson

Smashwords Edition License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. Thank you for respecting the author's work.

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### Chapter One: I Do Not Have X-Ray Vision!

I do not have x-ray vision. I want to make that clear right up front.

You see I once told my girlfriend, Lyndsey Dalrymple, about my gift and about how I find lost things like money and jewelry and stuff. Somehow Lyndsey got it in her mind, that since I can locate stuff buried in the ground, or behind walls, I must have x-ray vision. Then, she decided that every time I looked at her, I was looking right through her clothes and seeing her naked.

That's why Lyndsey is now my ex-girlfriend. And, not only did she break up with me – she told every girl in the 7th grade that I am a Perv!

So, I just want to say up front that I do not have x-ray vision. And I am not a Perv.

I just find things. That's all. And, everybody finds things.

I just find things better than anyone else.

**************

My name is Jeep Muldoon and I was named after my Grandfather, Gustaf Philip Muldoon. And, since Grandpa lived with us, he was Gus Muldoon; I was G.P. Muldoon around the house.

My little sister Jenny had trouble saying G.P., so she called me Jeepie, which eventually got shortened to Jeep. Giving me that great nickname is the only good thing Jenny has ever done.

Grandpa Gus gave me something besides his name. He gave me my locating gift; at least part of it anyway.

You see Grandpa Gus was a well driller. And, he was the best there was at finding water. He did not need a forked stick. He just knew where the water was.

Grandpa Gus has the gift.

My other Grandpa, Mom's father Charlie, was a mining prospector. He found gold and silver and precious gems. They say he could smell the stuff. And, as you might expect, he made a lot of money. As a matter of fact, he made and lost three fortunes before I was ever born. Money just seemed to flow through his fingers without ever stopping in his pocket. He lived wild and rowdy and spent money as fast as it came in.

Grandpa Charlie died before I was born. I am not really sure how. It's one of those things no one ever talks about and I often wonder if maybe someone shot him. But, he probably just got hit by a bus or something. Anyway, one thing I do know is Grandpa Charlie also had the gift.

So, I came by my gift honestly. I inherited it from both sides of the family. You might say I have a double dose of locating genes.

Grandpa Gus recognized my potential early on and he raised me to be the greatest locator there ever was. When I was two years old, he started playing hide the pennies with me. He would hide ten pennies around the living room, and I would try and find them.

By the time I was three, I was finding all ten pennies – blindfolded.

Soon, we moved up to silver coins. And, then Grandpa started hiding his gold tie tack and 10 karat Lodge pin. And, like a vacuum cleaner, I just snarfed them up.

So, now here I am in the 7th grade. I have this amazing gift, and I have spent years developing it. I have located arrowheads and gold nuggets. I've found silver dollars and diamond rings. (And lost girlfriends.)

But, nothing I ever found in my whole life prepared me for the wildest adventure ever when my friends and I slammed head on into the Mystery of Merlin's Magic.

************

### Chapter Two – The Parking Lot That Ate Granite Falls

Dad says that he does not read the Granite Falls Gazette to find out what the good people of Granite Falls are up to. It's a small town. He already knows what they are up to. Dad reads the paper to find out who got caught.

But, occasionally Dad will come across some choice tidbit to share at the breakfast table. That is exactly what happened on the very first day of summer vacation.

We were all sitting there finishing up the big breakfast that Mom cooked special because it was our first day of freedom, and we did not have to rush off to school. It was still pretty early because Jenny and I had not gotten on a summer schedule of sleeping late yet.

Jenny was being her usual butthead self. She took the last two pieces of bacon because she knew that I wanted them. When she saw me looking – she snatched them off the serving plate and stuck out her tongue in triumph. But, before we could get started on an early morning Smackdown, Dad interrupted.

"It says in the Gazette that the City Council is moving to take over Mr. Shiner's Miniature Golf Course. The Council wants to use eminent domain to sell the course to Wiley Porkbutt to use as a parking lot."

I choked on my Lucky Charms.

"A parking lot?" I protested. "They're going to tear down Granite Falls only miniature golf course for a parking lot? That is So not right! We have plenty of parking lots – but only one miniature golf course. Why would they do something so stupid?"

"Well," said Dad. "Wiley Porkbutt recently persuaded the town council that King and Trade streets are suffering from too much congestion. They voted with him to declare those streets as no parking zones. He succeeded in squeezing out 75 town owned parking spaces, and now he wants to replace those spaces on the street with the ones in this new parking lot."

Dad continued a little over the top.

"It's like one of those old Western movies, where the big ranch owner squeezes out the homesteaders until he controls all the water in the valley. Except in this case, Wiley Porkbutt controls all the parking spaces in the valley. If anyone wants to park in downtown Granite Falls, they are going to have to pay Porkbutt Preferred Parking."

I pushed aside my cereal and stood up. I was too upset to sit at the table any longer. I felt like I should do something to register my disgust. But, what could I do, I'm just a kid? Boy, summer vacation was really starting out on a sour note!

Finally, I said the only thing I could think of, "I'm going fishing. I guess I better head down to Town Lake before they pave it over and start charging all the fish to park there!"

I stomped over to the kitchen sink and deposited my dirty breakfast dishes. When I moved across the kitchen towards the door to the garage, I tapped Jenny on the opposite shoulder. When she turned her head to find no one there, I executed a grab that would have made Houdini proud.

I was already in the garage before Jenny realized I had walked out with both her slices of bacon.

And, Mom and Dad never saw a thing!

**************

### Chapter Three – Binary Unicycles and Great White Sharks

I don't use my gift for fishing. It is way too frustrating. Imagine knowing your bait is dangling in front of the biggest fish in the lake, and he's completely ignoring you?

That is no way to relax.

Anyway, this morning I was laying in the shade on the grassy shoreline and listening to the wind blowing through some nearby willows. Tearing off strips of barbecue flavored jerky; I chewed them up and washed them down with sips of ice cold lemonade from my canteen. I felt the warm sun and cool wind on my skin. I listened to a pair of mockingbirds squabbling in the distance. And, I sat in the shade of a grandfatherly willow watching as the sunshine sparkled off small wavelets on the surface of the water.

I was in the zone.

Suddenly, my red and white bobber bounced lightly creating almost imperceptible ripples on the surface of the water. Some unknown quarry nibbled tentatively at my bait ball. Leaning over and picking up my fishing pole from its forked stick holder, I was just getting ready to set the hook when...

"Look out below!!!"

Crash! Slap! Crunch!

I turned back toward the hillside above me and was startled by something smashing through the overgrown scrub. Slamming through the bushes, it pinballed into small pine trees as it bounced down the incline.

I could not see what was approaching – but from the movement I could follow the progress. It was like some large animal, a bear or a horse, was barreling through the rough, shaking bushes and bending little trees as it advanced. But, each crash was punctuated with yelps and mild curses. Then, almost too quickly to follow, something burst through the final brake of blackberry canes and honeysuckle.

For brief seconds I observed some kind of outlandish wheeled contraption bouncing the last few yards to the river at breakneck speed. It just missed me and the willow I sat under, then it hit the small upward lip of the bank and the whole mechanism went airborne – until it came down with a great big... KERSPLASH!!!

The muddy water swirled and churned, while spray from the huge splash drenched me up on the bank. The churning continued until up popped a freckled face with smiling blue eyes. It was framed with sodden but still fiery red hair. The newcomer splurted out a mouthful of muddy lake water.

Then, beside the first figure, a second bobbed to the surface. This subsequent body came up coughing and gulping and sputtering. A husky outline emerged from the lake, barley covered by a soaking white tee shirt streaked with lake slime. Sodden coffee colored curls hung limply plastered atop a mud striped face.

This second unlucky bather roared.

"Why you squirrel faced monkey boy! I can't believe I let you talk me into getting onto that death mobile of yours. If I get my hands around your neck – the next streets you will be pedaling will be streets of gold. And, you'll be dodging St. Peter!"

Figure number one was unperturbed. Pulling himself up to his full height, the waste deep water struck him chest high. He slapped the side of his head with the heel of his hand – trying to force river water out of his ears.

"Hush!" yelled the red haired boy with the smiling eyes. He added in a disapproving tone, "You're gonna scare away all the fish!"

He turned towards me.

"Hey Jeep," he said. "Catching anything?"

As always, Freddie and Shad made a grand entrance.

********

"A binary unicycle? What the heck is a binary unicycle?" I asked incredulously.

Freddie and Shad had exited from the water and were now sitting beside me along with the mud stained remnants of their odd contraption. They were explaining how they ended up careening down the hillside and into Town Lake.

"Well," said little Freddie, attempting to sound very official, "a binary unicycle combines two independent unicycles within a rigid frame. Together, the combination of unicycles provides more stability and the ability to incorporate two distinct riders."

"So let me get this straight," I replied. "You duct taped a unicycle to either end of an aluminum step ladder? Is that about the size of it?"

Freddie nodded.

Looking over at Shad I laughed, "And you let him talk you into riding that thing?"

Big Shad nodded sheepishly.

"Hey, it was going great, until we bounced off the road and started down the hill," Freddie objected. "It is a major improvement over a standard unicycle. To tell the truth, I believe that the binary unicycle has a great future. Uh... Once I get the kinks worked out. "

"I think he's right," Shad agreed, as he wrung water from his tee shirt. "It was much easier to ride. I can't even ride a regular unicycle."

I bought my hand up and slapped the palm against my forehead.

"I agree with the both of you," I said shaking my head, "Because I rode my very own binary unicycle over here this morning. Only, I call it a 'Bicycle!'"

Sudden comprehension splashed across their faces. Freddie looked sheepish, while anger took Shad again. Before Freddie could jump out of reach, Shad leaned in and frogged the redhead on his arm.

"Hey, what was that for?" Freddie moaned rubbing his

shoulder.

"Think of it as a down payment," Shad replied.

********

As I remember, nobody actually called a meeting of the Rangers that morning. We just all showed up to spend a sunny summer day at the lake. I got there first, followed of course by Freddie and Shad. But, it was not long before Charlie, Thor and Toby came wheeling up in the club's electric golf cart. Since Thor brought along his pole, soon his bobber was floating just down from mine.

Thor Munson is about 5'9" with flowing blond hair and piercing eyes the color of water just before it freezes. If you gave him a metal helmet and an oversized hammer he could pass for a younger version of his namesake – the god of thunder.

Because he is quiet natured, some people mistake Thor for a dumb jock. But, when you get to know him you realize he is just a good listener. He is perfectly happy staying quiet and that makes a great fishing buddy.

Unfortunately, today our quarry was not attracted by Thor's blond locks, or the bait dangling beneath the surface. It seemed like we were just visiting the fish. But then we spotted a large shadow moving just below the surface and heading straight toward our lines.

Suddenly, a dorsal fin broke the surface between our bobbers. But, the mystery creature ignored our bait offerings. Instead, it picked up speed and shot right for the bank. Then, without warning the front third of the creature punched out of the water and wiggled up onto the mud.

There was no mistaking the blunt pointed head, the soulless black eyes and the rows and rows of razor sharp teeth. It was a three foot killing eating machine; the pinnacle of the food chain and scourge of the Great Barrier Reef.

It was a Great White Shark.

The creature reared back and moved its head from side to side, slowly scanning the area.

And then it spoke.

"How rude," said the Shark. "You have a club meeting and don't even Text a guy!"

No one replied at first. It wasn't so much the shock of an unexpected encounter with a salt water killer – as it was the embarrassment of having left out our friend.

Finally, I alibied for the group.

"I figured that was you, Bogdon," I replied. "There aren't many sharks in Town Lake. But, this is not an official meeting or anything. We just all showed up one at a time."

Freddie yelled over, "Anyway Bog, now you know we are here. Just come on over and join the party."

"Okay," said the shark, sounding somewhat less annoyed. "I'm over at the boat ramp. Let me recover Whitey and I'll be there in a jiff."

The Great White splashed its powerful tail and slowly backed out into the deep water. It hung a sharp u-turn and moving along the surface, it headed off at full speed toward the boat ramp at City Park.

Ten minutes later, Chief Scientist Bogdon Peabody came riding over on his electric scooter.

With mousey brown hair and big black rimmed glasses, Bogdon is pretty average looking. But, don't let those nondescript looks fool you. Bog is the smartest kid in town. In fact I will wager that Bogdon has forgotten more about quantum physics and electrical engineering than most schools even teach. But he is not some scruffy old lab rat. Bogdon believes in science for fun! And, it is usually his scientific know how that makes Charlie Sinclair's wilder ideas possible.

On this particular afternoon, about a foot of the radio controlled Great White Shark protruded from the top of Bogdon's canvas backpack.

**************

### Chapter Four – In the Company of Rangers

Charlie Sinclair is tall and thin, with dimpled All-American good looks and extra fine sandy hair that attracts female hands like a magnet. No kidding. Women just cannot seem to help themselves. They are compelled to run their fingers through Charlie's mane. Even my Mom was not immune to whatever compulsive force Charlie's hair exerts. (But, I finally broke her of the habit!)

Anyway, Charlie also has confident brown eyes that just scream 'Student Council Leader', 'Captain of the Football Team' or in our case 'Club President'. And, as our Club President – Charlie normally starts our Ranger meetings by rapping the official gavel on the official club podium. However, since we were at the lake, Charlie called this meeting to order by rapping a full can of Root Beer against the top of his tackle box.

"I hereby call this meeting of Company A of the Granite Falls Rangers to order."

He turned to Toby.

"Mr. Secretary would you please read the minutes from our last meeting?"

A thoughtful look slipped across Toby's face and he responded.

"Ah, Mr. President, since we are at the lake and the minutes are still at the club house, I move that we dispense with the minutes and any old business and move right to the new business portion of our meeting."

"Second!"

"Second!"

Freddie and Shad both raced to 'Second the motion'. And, because Freddie was a just a hair quicker on the draw – he got to reach over and frog Shad on the arm.

Now, it's really not hard to get a motion passed at a club meeting because Freddie and Shad always have a race to see who can be the first to second every motion. And, the loser always gets frogged. Of course, after seconding the motion, they feel compelled to go ahead and vote for whatever it is. And, since someone has to make the proposal to begin with there's three votes right there. Then, you only need one vote from the remaining four Members: in this case Bogdon, Thor, Charlie or me – and the motion carries.

(That's not always a good thing. That's how we ended up buying a giraffe once upon a time – but that's another story).

The motion to skip the minutes passed unanimously.

"New Business?" Charlie inquired.

"Mr. President," I spoke up. "I would like to bring an unfortunate piece of news to the attention of the club."

"The Chair recognizes Jeep Muldoon."

I began, "Fellow Rangers, I received some disturbing news this morning at the breakfast table. According to the Granite Falls Gazette, the Granite Falls Town Council in a show of unrestrained governmental intrusion has voted to take over the Granite Falls Miniature Golf Course and bulldoze it into a parking lot."

From the reaction on the faces of my friends – it was obvious that they had not yet heard this distressing information. So, I continued.

"Given that Granite Falls has only one world class 18 hole miniature golf course and given that the Granite Falls Rangers currently have a season pass that covers every

Member of the Club running through December 31st, I would like to move that we apply the considerable resources and talents of the Club and all its members to the goal of thwarting this unwarranted and undesirable abuse of power."

"Second! Second!" echoed Shad and Freddie and the inevitable arm frog followed.

**************

### Chapter Five: Our Fearless Foursome Meets a Fearsome Twosome

Just after noon the next day, our delegation made its way over to the Granite Falls Miniature Golf Course.

Bogdon was working at the Hobby Shop. Freddie was helping his Grandfather cut the grass. And, I guess Shad had not finished lunch yet. So, Thor, Toby, Charlie and I were the official Club representatives. And, as luck would have it – we were a foursome, and we planned to get in a few rounds of golf while we were there.

Charlie was pegged to do the talking, because... well, Charlie is just so darn good at it. I am not sure if persuasion is a gift, but it seems like Charlie could talk a blackberry into a bear's mouth. Maybe, it's just that he's not afraid to ask for what he wants. Anyway, people always listen to Charlie Sinclair and usually agree with his suggestions.

Anyway, when we pulled up in front of the golf course on our electric scooters, Mr. Shiner's granddaughter (and my former girlfriend) Lyndsey Dalrymple was standing out in

front, beside the evilest seventh grader in Granite Falls: Amanda Porkbutt.

Amanda Porkbutt is Wiley Porkbutt's very popular and amazingly stuck up daughter. Given that her father wanted to bulldoze the golf course, it seemed to me that Lyndsey was fraternizing with the enemy. But, maybe teen popularity is thicker than blood.

Gazing over at the perfect feminine form of Lyndsey Dalrymple, sparkling in the early morning sun, one word came to mind: luminous. Lyndsey just glows. She is tall and tanned, with wispy brown hair and dazzlingly blue eyes. Today, her soft pink lips covered her perfect teeth except when she flashed one of those now retainer-less smiles that make me go weak in the knees. (Whenever Lyndsey Dalrymple smiles birds sing and old folks hold hands.)

She was wearing a cotton sundress that shimmered with white and red flowers. The perfectly manicured toes of her cute little feet peaked out from spongy blue flip flops. And, from just downwind I caught Lyndsey's fresh clean scent of sunshine and strawberries.

Standing next to Lindsey's perfection, Amanda Porkbutt cast the evil shadow of a wicked witch. Amanda was about the same height and weight as my ex girlfriend, but that was where the resemblance ended. Amanda smacked her gum with all the class of a truck stop waitress. She smelled like a fruit salad. She wore enough eye makeup to make a raccoon look trampy. And, her hair was platinum blonde – this week.

I grimaced at Amanda, and then gave Lyndsey my best Aqua fresh grin. Unfortunately, Lyndsey was not in a receptive mood.

"Hi Perv," she started in. "Are you here to play golf? Or, did you come by to look up someone's dress?"

She paused.

"Oh, that's right. You don't have to look up someone's dress you can just look right through it."

She wrinkled her nose and tried to give me a sneer – but somehow it still came out looking... cute.

Then, Amanda felt compelled to join in. "Hey, Jeepie Creepie, what color underwear do I have on?"

Amanda gave a fashion model turn (which I don't believe was for my benefit, since she was staring at Charlie the entire time).

"That's easy," I answered. "Brown. At least it's streaked brown."

That got a sneer out of Amanda and there was nothing cute about it.

At that point Charlie eased into the conversation.

"Hello ladies," he charmed. "What brings you out on this fine summer day? Are you golfing? Or, just working on your cute little tans?"

An instant transformation took place. It was like someone threw a switch and the girls morphed into female giggle boxes.

"Hello Charlie. Hey Thor," they twittered.

"We just came by to cheer up Grandpa Brock with some cookies," Lyndsey explained.

"Well, that's mighty nice of you girls. I'm sure that your smiles alone were like sunshine on Mr. Shiner's cloudy day".

The girls giggled again, and I tried my best not to puke.

"Oh, Amanda," Charlie continued? "I don't suppose you could communicate to your Father how important this golf course is to the future voters of Granite Falls? We feel it would be terrific shame if it were closed down."

"Well Charlie, I have already mentioned that to Daddy. But, I will be happy to pass along your concerns".

Amanda flashed a perfect smile from her pointy white teeth. And, then she topped it off with this goofy hair flip move that I'm sure she has practiced in front of the mirror.

At that point Toby Trundle actually began to choke. This teenage love fest was too much for his social activist gag reflex. Toby may have an unremarkable appearance with dirty blond hair, innocent grey eyes and a rounded face. But, he is completely intolerant of injustice or oppression. So, he felt compelled to take Amanda to task.

"Don't you Porkbutt's own enough parking lots already?" Toby huffed. "Do you really need to bulldoze this golf course for another? I mean, how rich do you need to be?"

Click. The switch got thrown back to angry – or at least haughty. Amanda turned toward Toby and gave him her best 'I am _So_ much better than you' stare. I could feel her contempt like heat on my bare skin.

"We are not rich," she corrected him. "We are... wealthy."

Amanda's words smothered Toby like a wet blanket. Then, having dealt with the riff raff, she turned back to Charlie and Thor.

"Well, so much to do, and so little time. I'm afraid we can't stay and chat."

Amanda smiled, "Good bye Charlie. Good bye Thor."

She looked over at Toby and me like she wanted to scrape us off her shoe.

"Good bye... losers!"

Then, Amanda and Lyndsey strolled off down the sidewalk.

As the two girls wandered off, I scrunched up my face at Toby and mocked, "We're not rich. We're not rich. We're wealthy."

Toby just shook his head, "Amanda Porkbutt is the Paris Hilton of open air parking."

**************

### Chapter Six: Fairway to Heaven

After the girls left, we wandered over to the orange wooden stand known as 'the clubhouse' to have a word with Mr. Shiner. He was inside the booth handing out clubs, balls, score cards and those tiny little miniature pencils that golf courses are so fond of.

"Hello, Mr. Shiner," Charlie greeted him. "How are you doing today?"

Brock Shiner finished the last bite of a cookie and brushed the crumbs off his hands.

"Hello boys," Mr. Shiner said. "It's good to see you fellas. How are you doing on this bright sunny day?"

"We are doing just great," Charlie replied. "How are you're your greens today, Sir?"

"Straight and true, boys," answered Mr. Shiner, "straight and true. Did you fellas come out to see if you could finally break that course Record? I've already given away $10 this morning for a lucky hole in one."

"Well," Charlie started. "We do plan on playing a couple of rounds. We need to tune up for next month's Granite Falls Open."

Charlie paused, "You are going to be holding the Open this year? Aren't you? "

The old man smiled.

"Uh oh... I believe you boys have been reading the newspaper. Well, you can't believe everything you read. Not even in the Granite Falls Gazette."

He held up a finger.

"Excuse me for a second, fellas."

Mr. Shiner reached over for the microphone. He flipped on the PA system and his voice came over the loud speakers.

"Attention golfers. We are adding another lucky ball color for the next five minutes. The lucky ball color is red. Anyone scoring a hole in one with the red ball can come to the clubhouse and collect his prize."

Mr. Shiner put down the microphone and pulled out his handkerchief. He began wiping the sweat off his balding forehead.

"Boy howdy," he puffed. "It's hotter than it has a right to be."

He turned back to us smiling.

"Don't worry boys. I have held the Granite Falls Open every year since I came back from the War – the big one \- WWII. And, I sure as shootin' plan to keep having it until St. Peter calls me home."

"But, aren't you afraid of the town council?" Toby asked.

The old man chuckled, "No, Son. I'm not afraid of those blowhards. This is still America. They can't just come over and take a man's lively hood away. After all, I fought with the US Army Air Corp during the War. And, after we finally got rid of Adolph – that paper hanging Son-of-a-Gun – I came home and built this course with my very own hands. And, I've been holding the Granite Falls Open every year since."

Once more – he daubed his heavily perspiring face with the handkerchief. Still wiping with one hand, he reached over with the other and picked up the microphone.

"Attention golfers. We are adding another lucky ball color for the next five minutes. The lucky ball color is blue. Anyone scoring a hole in one with the blue ball can come to the clubhouse and collect his prize."

He put down the microphone and turned back to us.

"Now what was I saying?"

Mr. Shiner kind of swayed a little and a puzzled look slipped across his features.

"Oh yeah," he said. "Old Porkbutt is not going to take over my golf course. It's mine and I am not selling it so he can have another stupid old parking lot. "

The old fellow abruptly changed the subject. "Boy I am so thirsty!" he said. "Are you boys thirsty?"

Without waiting for us to reply, Mr. Shiner reached over to a pack of funnel shaped Dixie cups. He grabbed one and started filling it from the big bottled water dispenser behind the counter. Bubbles glugged as water sloshed out into the paper container.

"Thirsty, thirsty, thirsty." he said to no one in particular.

Then he lifted up the little paper vessel in a 'Salute'. Then, he emptied the cup in one continuous swig, and crushed the paper container like it was a certain city councilman whose initials are W.P.

"Well, gee Mr. Shiner," Toby said. "We just want you to know that you can count on us for anything. We are behind you a hundred percent. And, we will be glad to protest this thing – or even testify before the Town Council. This course is a part of Granite Falls' history. We don't intend to just stand by and let them pave it over."

The old man smiled and pulled out his handkerchief once more. This time, after wiping his face – he wiped his eyes as well.

"Just a second," he said.

He picked up the microphone and hit the button.

"Attention golfers. We are adding another lucky color for the next five minutes. The lucky ball color is red... or maybe blue. Or, maybe red and blue mixed together. Which I guess is purple. Anyone scoring a hole in one with the red ball, a blue ball or a red-blue purple ball can come to the clubhouse and collect his prize."

This time when he finished with the microphone, he dropped it and it fell over on the counter. Then, Mr. Shiner flopped backwards and plopped down hard on a little folding chair in the corner.

"Mr. Shiner? Are you okay?" Toby asked with a worried tone. "You sure look flushed, Sir."

"I'm okay. I'm okay," the old man replied. However, this time his words were coming out slurred. "I fought in the Big War you know and I'm okay."

Suddenly, he popped back up with excitement crackling in his voice.

"And you want to know why I'm okay? Because, I have a secret. A secret secret secret. And do ya wanna know what the secret is?" He paused and looked around.

"Mr. Shiner," Toby interrupted, "you really don't look well, Sir. Maybe you had better sit back down. Is there something we can get you?"

But, the old man leaned over onto the counter and waved us in close so he could reveal something in private.

"Iss a Maaagic secret," he whispered.

Then he began to giggle. And, when an 80 year old man starts to giggle – it's kind of scary.

"Is there someone we can call for you, Mr. Shiner," Charlie pleaded.

Mr. Shiner giggled again like someone playing drunk on TV.

"Maagic," he said.

He motioned to us close in around him.

"Merlin's Magic," he whispered. Then, he put his finger to his lips to let us know that was the big secret, and we should not tell anybody.

And, then Mr. Shiner collapsed.

When Mr. Shiner went down, it took us all by surprise. And as he fell he grabbed an arm load of putters from the counter. And, those putters would have come down on top of his head if Thor had not moved unbelievably quickly and snatched them first.

Instinctively, Charlie leaped over the counter to grab the old man. Meanwhile, I flipped the little catch lock on the half-sized wooden door and the rest of us hurried inside the booth. Charlie laid Mr. Shiner across the cement floor of the clubhouse, while I placed a rolled up towel I found on a shelf below the old fellow's head.

"Look, Listen and Feel," Toby called over to us. Behind me I could hear Toby dialing the clubhouse phone and then talking to the 911 operator.

We began employing the techniques we picked up in our CPR training. But, this was not like anything we practiced at the YMCA. Mr. Shiner's breathing was rapid and strong and his heart was beating – about a mile a minute.

Charlie took the handkerchief that was dangling from his hand and placed it under a stream from the water bottle. He used it to wet Mr. Shiner's face down, while I held his head between my hands.

"He's burning up!" said Charlie as he wet Mr. Shiner down.

"Maybe he's overheated?" I suggested. Meanwhile, Charlie kept the water flowing.

Fortunately, the rescue station was only 3 blocks away. (Everything is close in a small town). Within 5 minutes Mr. Shiner was on a backboard and we were helping to lift him over the waist high door to the shack. On the count of three, we lifted him onto the ambulance's gurney.

The entire time Mr. Shiner was talking crazy. Mostly, he was mumbling how he was not going to let "Porky Porkbutt steal Merlin's Magic."

Then, as they were loading him into the back of the ambulance – he held out his hand and gasped for our attention.

"Boys? Boys?"

"We're right here, Mr. Shiner," Toby answered. "We're right here."

"Straight and true, boys," mumbled Mr. Shiner. "Straight and true."

Then, they shoved him into the back, shut the ambulance doors and shot off with the siren screeching

**************

### Chapter Seven: When Seniors Go Bad - Just Say No!

As the siren finally faded in the distance, it suddenly seemed very quiet.

After the rush of excitement and fear, I was exhausted and a little shaky. And, I guess the other guys were too. Without saying anything, all four us plopped down on the orange bench beside hole #1, where golfers wait to tee up.

When the ambulance left, I swear it took part of my brain with it. All I wanted to do was find a nice shady spot and lay down. We had just gone through something hard... and scary. And, I didn't know what to make of Mr. Shiner's collapse.

Was he going to be okay? Did we do the right thing? What was wrong with him? And, what was all that talk about Merlin and Magic?

I glanced over at Charlie, and he was pale, and he had a funny dazed look on his face. For once, even Charlie was at a loss for words.

Thor did not look much better. He opened his mouth like he was going to say something – but I guess he did not know what to say because he finally just closed it and shook his head back and forth.

Then I looked over at Toby.

When the crisis hit, it was like a fog engulfed my brain and shorted out the synapses. My feet were suddenly trapped in blocks of cement and my hands were frozen in Jello. But, Toby sliced right threw that fog and took charge in his methodical sort of way. He made sure that we all went through our lifesaving procedures step by step just like in class.

Toby was not bossy. He was thorough. And, he stood up to the challenge.

I wanted to say something to Toby; something to tell him what a great job he had done. I wanted to tell him how impressed and proud I was of him. And, say how if I ever had another crisis, I sure wanted him at my side.

And, stuff like that.

Instead, I just reached over and put my right hand on his shoulder, looked him in the eye and nodded. Charlie and Thor leaned in and patted Toby on the back.

It was a moment.

********

Charlie finally broke the spell, "Mr. Shiner was lucky that we brought Toby along, today!"

"Absolutely," I agreed.

"Positively," Thor added.

"I just hope he's okay," Toby added modestly. "This is the last thing the poor old guy needs – with the town council trying to take away his golf course."

"Well, maybe that's why he did it," said Thor.

"Did what?" I asked.

"Took the drugs," Thor answered matter-of-factly.

I was shocked and blindsided.

"What do you mean 'Took the drugs'?" I demanded.

"Well," replied Thor, "While we were helping get Mr. Shiner into the ambulance – I heard the other attendant on the radio. He told the hospital this appeared to be a drug overdose. He said he thought Mr. Shiner had taken 'Ecstasy'."

I was stunned – and I am sure that my jaw dropped to the floor.

"Ecstasy?" I was almost shouting now. "You must be out of your mind! There's no way Mr. Shiner would be taking Ecstasy. EXLAX maybe. But, never Ecstasy. "

"Look," said Thor, "I'm only telling you what the paramedic said. That's what he called in over the radio – 'Probable drug overdose'. And, when the hospital asked what kind of drug was involved – the ambulance guy said – 'it looks like Ecstasy to me.' He said it, not me. Don't shoot the messenger! "

"I'm sorry," I apologized. "I don't mean to yell at you, Thor. But, that just does not make any sense? Do any of you guys really think Mr. Shiner would take Ecstasy?"

Nothing about this made sense to me.

I continued, "And, what's the deal with all that talk about Merlin's Magic? Was that some kind of hallucination? What's magical about a miniature golf course?"

I looked into my friends eyes and saw they were just as confused as I was.

"What do you guys think?" I asked.

We stared at each other until one Ranger finally spoke up.

"I think," said Toby, "that we have a mystery."

**************

Chapter Eight – Polly Wants a Cracker – Or Else.

It was late in the afternoon before we assembled in the Ranger's primary clubhouse.

The 'PC' is a tree house built into an impressive white oak that grows around back of Freddy's grandparents' house. It was originally built by Freddy's grandfather and Father.

We took it over a few years back and upgraded the place. We replaced some old boards, expanded the great room, fixed the leaky roof and added a much needed coat of paint. A wireless Internet router gave the place a homey feel and kept us in touch with the outside world.

Freddy's grandparents are great about having us roam around their backyard. Plus, they are way too old to ever climb the rope ladder. So, we have plenty of privacy and don't have to answer questions about our adventures.

(Adults might not want to hear some of our answers).

Freddy's Grandmother is always bringing out cakes and cookies and lemonade for the whole club. And, his Grandfather loves to sit in the old bench below the clubhouse and tell us about days gone by. He tells amazing stories about steam trains and model T's and the very first airplane that ever came to Granite Falls.

Freddie's Grandfather also tells us stories about Freddy's Dad and our own Dads' when they were kids.

Boy, were they delinquents! It is even shocking. They had BB gun battles and bottle rocket wars. They had homemade firecrackers and went around flushing them down toilets. Heck, they carried pocketknives to school every day!

(It's hard for me to believe there was a time when you could carry a knife to school and no one even cared? Now days if you bring nail clippers onto campus, they want to try you as an adult.)

Anyway, back to the here and now. This afternoon we were at the PC, filling in the other guys on the events at the golf course.

"So," Charlie summed up. "That's the situation. Somehow, Mr. Shiner was drugged. And, he apparently has some sort of 'magic' that he asked us to help protect from Wiley Porkbutt."

Shad responded, "Let's just get Jeep to sweep the place for magic."

I looked over a Shad and I was a little put out. Did he think I was some sort of magic sniffing bloodhound?

"What am I, Harry Potter?" I asked. "How am I supposed to 'sweep the place for magic'? What am I looking for? Do any of you have some for me to practice on? If I don't know what Magic sounds like, and I don't, I can't hear it call, can I?"

"What kind of magic are we looking for?" asked Freddie. "Is it a spell book? A wand? A magic lamp with a genie inside?"

"That's the big problem," said Toby. "We don't know what it might be. It could be any of those things. Heck, it could be the Magic School Bus for all we know! We won't recognize it until we find it."

Thor was more practical.

"Maybe there isn't any magic. Maybe it was just a drug induced hallucination."

Charlie reluctantly agreed.

"Given that there is no scientific evidence for the existence of magic – I have to accept that Thor is probably right. But, the fact remains that Mr. Shiner needs our help. We can't ignore that. As Rangers we are sworn to 'defend the weak and the helpless.' We have to do something to defend Mr. Shiner. It's our duty."

As we were contemplating Charlie's words a sing song voice came ringing in from outside the window.

"There's poop in my water."

Freddie looked around the room. He kind of huffed and then he leaned out the window and yelled back. "We're having a meeting," he explained.

The voice grew more insistent.

"There is poop in my WATER!"

"Hold your horses," Freddie yelled back. "I'll clean out your bowl after we're done."

"BALONEY!" answered the voice, rocketing from annoyed to outright angry.

A large limb branched from the central tree trunk our club house was built on and it stretched out of the window in question. Marching into the clubhouse on top of that knurled oak branch was a foot tall feathered creature.

The flutter of light gray feathers and his resolute walk gave the distinct impression that he was in no mood to wait for even a minute. Stepping inside the window – he turned his twelve inch frame and fixed his tiny black eyes on Freddie.

Once more, he opened his large black beak and this time he spoke softly and emphasized each work.

"There is poop, in my water!"

"Okay. Fine!" said Freddie, almost shouting. He got up from his position and huffed again. "I'll clean out your bowl right, now. Will that make you happy, your highness?"

The creature did not give a verbal answer. He made two up and down shakes of his body that we took as an affirmative.

I guess I should tell you about Rottweiler.

Rottweiler is an African Gray parrot that just flew up one day at the club house. He fluttered in the window on a rainy spring afternoon, demanding food and water. When Freddie asked him what his name was – he answered, "Rottweiler".

We fed him and then took him to the veterinarian where he was checked out. And, since none of us had ever kept a parrot before the Vet gave us the rundown on care and handling. Of course, we placed an ad in the paper and on the Internet but no one ever came forward to claim him.

Since he came to live with us, we have begun to wonder if there was a reason he was flying free.

Rottweiler is a bird with very little patience. He is also scary smart. Freddie and Shad are sure that he is too smart to be a normal bird. They insist that he escaped from a genetics lab somewhere, and sometimes I think they may be right.

Rottweiler looked around and spied his favorite mark. He unfurled his wings and flew over beside Shad.

"Hey, Round Boy," and he fluttered his wings and sang - "Nillaaaa."

"Sorry, Rott," Shad responded. "I didn't bring any extras."

This answer only seemed to annoy the creature. He turned his head sideways. "Nilla," the bird ordered firmly.

"Look Rott, I only have a few to tide me over until snack time. How about some bird seed - or maybe a nice juicy caterpillar?"

The little parrot moved a few steps closer and turned his head. His small black eyes drilled in on Shad. "Finger?" Rottweiler warned.

"Okay. Okay. No need for any of that."

Shad hurriedly reached into the pocket of his shorts. He yanked out a vanilla wafer and plopped it down in front of the parrot.

Shad gave sheepishly explanation, "I am working on a model of a P-51 Mustang fighter I got for my birthday. I'm going to need all my fingers to put it together."

"Nilla," Rottweiler sang happily, as he lifted up the cookie with one foot and broke off a chunk with his powerful black beak.

Freddie finished rinsing out Rott's water dish using liquid from a plastic jug. He swished the water around and with a quick flick of the wrist he flipped the old water outside. Putting the bowl down on the feeding ledge we built onto the window sill, he refilled it.

"There you go, Rottweiler," Freddie said with hint sarcasm. "I certainly hope you are happy now."

Grasping the vanilla wafer firmly in his long black toes, Rott flew it over to the window ledge.

"Thanks, red boy."

He bent over and took a sip. Leaning back, he made a gargling noise. Then momentarily contented, he made an announcement to the club.

"We will now rejoin our program... already in progress."

***************

### Chapter Nine – Closing with the Enemy

Since we felt honor bound to do something – the obvious place to start was back at Granite Falls Mini-Golf. We hopped onto our bikes and electric scooters and returned to the scene of the collapse.

The Golf Course was closed, of course. A handmade sign 'Closed Due to Illness', hung down from an orange painted chain that stretched across the entrance to hole #1.

The deserted golf course was depressing and had a kind of hopeless feel to it. And, we weren't sure what to do now that we were here.

I started sweeping the place listening for the standard stuff. But, aside from a handful of dimes and quarters, a gold hoop earring and a sterling silver ID bracelet engraved 'LYNDSEY', I came up short.

"Hey Guys! Come see this!"

I looked around and spotted Freddie over on hole 18. He was kneeling down on the green Astroturf and his head was bowed, as he stared straight down into the cup.

"This hole just keeps going," he said. "The balls drop down inside and completely disappear."

"That's right, goof," Shad replied. "It's like one of those bug motels. Golf balls check in, but they don't check out."

"Yep," agreed Toby. "The balls disappear down the hole so you have to pay for another ball to play another round. So what?"

"Well, where do they go?" asked Freddy.

"They go to golf ball heaven," Shad replied sarcastically.

"Really?" said Charlie. "I thought they went to live on a golf ball farm in the country."

"The golf balls travel down the tube to a central collection spot," Bogdon explained authoritatively. "It is a common feature of miniature golf courses to have an underground cistern to catch balls on the final hole. If we scan the area we will probably find a trap door or a false boulder through which the balls may be retrieved."

"But don't you think that's mysterious?" Freddie asked. "Maybe we should send a camera down this hole and check it out?"

"I think the only mystery here is how you managed to avoid Summer School," Shad jibed.

Before we could resolve golf's answer to the Bermuda Triangle, a big black sedan with the personalized license plate 'PARK KING' pulled up out front. A full sized white pickup truck pulled in beside it and a couple of guys in hardhats got out and started unloading surveying equipment. Councilman Wiley Porkbutt emerged from the sedan and walked over.

In a perfect world, the Councilman would look like a crook. He would have oily black hair and a handlebar mustache that he twisted at the ends. Then there would be no mistaking him for what he was: one of the bad guys.

The problem is the Wiley Porkbutt is well dressed, well groomed and looks like a fine upstanding citizen. But, he has all the heart of Dunkin Donut.

As Grandpa Gus likes to say, "I can put my boots in the oven – but that don't make 'em biscuits."

"What brings you young gentlemen out on this fine day?" inquired the Councilman.

"Well, Sir," replied Toby, "With Mr. Shiner in the hospital, we came over to see if we could be of any assistance. We hoped there was something we could do to help save the golf course. "

"That is certainly admirable," replied Councilman Porkbutt. "It does my heart good to see young citizens taking an interest in the community. But, I am afraid the mini golf course's days are numbered. The Council has voted – and the will of the people has got to be respected."

The councilman quit talking and began making a speech.

"Progress, Boys. Don't be afraid of progress. This golf course has provided countless hours of enjoyment to Granite Falls' citizens. It has served the public well. However, we must look to the future and we have to make room for what is best for coming generations. And, Progress is the cornerstone of our community's potential."

The councilman stuck his hand in the air with his finger pointed upwards.

"This piece of property was not always a golf course, you know. Eighty years ago this was the sight of the renowned Porkbutt Spa and Warm Springs Resort. People came from all over the state to soak in the hot mineral waters of the resort's huge indoor swimming pool. The water was touted as a cure for everything from arthritis to gout. Why, it was practically an institution."

"But, one day the spring ran dry. The crowds stopped coming. And, the resort closed. Luckily for the citizens of our fair town, my grandfather Beauregard Porkbutt received a substantial insurance settlement when the Spa unexpectedly burned to the ground. Grandpa Porkbutt wisely invested in roadside real estate and that was the beginning of the Porkbutt Preferred Parking Empire that we know today."

"So you see boys, progress is the key to the Future."

Charlie responded with a smooth tongue of his own.

"But Sir. Must we erase the past like a blackboard. Can't we save the best parts of our heritage as we build for tomorrow? "

"Ah, a good point, young man. But, isn't this miniature golf course a relic that's outlived its time? Don't we live in the information age? Isn't it better to concentrate on cerebral development and hand/eye coordination in front of the computer screen - rather than fritter away our days exposed to the elements and risking the ravages of solar radiation?"

(Was the councilman actually suggesting we stay inside and play video games?)

"Besides," he added, "given that Mr. Shiner's health problems are apparently linked to illegal drugs, I don't know that as a Father or as a member of the Town Council, I can stand idly by and see the youth of our community lead down the pathway of corruption."

Charlie responded, "Councilman, how would you know about Mr. Shiner's condition? I thought medical records were confidential?"

The councilman turned – looked Charlie right in the eye and responded with an edge.

"You will find, young sir, that there is very little that goes on in my town that I am not aware of."

Then the councilman put a smile back on his face.

"Gentlemen, I am afraid that duty calls and I must leave you. I do hope that we will not have to be on opposite sides of this issue. After all, the Granite Falls mini golf course is truly a lost cause."

With his spontaneous civics lesson finished, the councilman left us and walked over to consult with his surveyors.

Thor summed up my feelings when he said, "I think Wiley Porkbutt would steal a fly from a blind spider."

We all shook our heads in agreement. But there was nothing left to say. Besides, Wiley Porkbutt had sucked all the oxygen out of atmosphere. So, we broke up and went home.

We would have to return that evening when there were not so many witnesses.

**************

### Chapter Ten – Batter Up

After supper, we all met up at our secondary clubhouse – the one we call 'the Bat Cave'.

It's not really a cave - and there aren't any bats. It is just our secret hideaway where we keep all our good stuff away from the prying eyes of Parents – and other non-club members.

Our Bat Cave is not even located beneath stately Wayne Manor. Instead, it is on the far side of town, behind what's left of the old Granite Falls drive-in theatre in Martin Stoney's U-Store It.

To gain entrance to the U-Store It, you first have to punch in the correct codes at the drive through gate. Then, if you follow the blacktop around to the far right side of the property, you come to a double sized mini-warehouse on the end: Unit 007.

Our unit looks just like the other units. In fact, we go to great lengths not to attract attention. The only real difference is that if you remove the old rusty padlock, the door still won't open. Off to one side, behind a small panel expertly camouflaged to look like an individual brick, is a state of the art thumbprint scanner. Only the thumbprints of the current members of Ranger Company A can trigger the scanner to open the door.

Even after the door is open, you only have 15 seconds to punch the correct code into the keypad on the inside wall. Failure to do so will simultaneously cut power to the unit and automatically dial the club members' cell and home phones announcing a break in.

How do kids get their own mini storage unit – and why is it so well protected?

Well, first, kids can get their own mini storage unit because no one expects kids to rent a mini storage unit. When you take the contract home 'to get signed' and then show up the next day with enough cash to pay for the entire first year's rent, grownups assume that you are just the go between representing some other adult. Secondly, the unit is well protected because that's where we keep all our really good stuff.

Inside, in addition to a work area, we have kayaks, scuba gear, night vision equipment, model rockets, and tons of remote control stuff for land, sea and air. We also have our electric golf cart, several motorized bikes, our mountaineering and camping gear and miscellaneous scientific and communications equipment.

In addition, it houses our club safe, a four hundred and fifty pound hardened steel monster we purchased when Shoemakers Trust Company went out of business last year. The 1939 model from the Circle City Safe Company of Indianapolis, Indiana has a bank quality combination lock and plenty of room for our most valuable valuables.

With the help of my fellow rangers, we have collected lots of treasure over the years.

Inside the safe are antique gold and silver coins that we found; mostly in the upholstery of old chairs or couches. There are dozens of wedding bands and engagement rings that I am always picking up. There is a sapphire broach I discovered in the lining of a ratty old fur coat we bought at Goodwill. And, there is a cashbox with lots and lots of greenbacks.

You would not believe all the places that I have found money stashed away for safe keeping and then forgotten! I have uncovered cash in the hollow legs of furniture. I located it inside vintage clothing. I have unearthed hordes inside fireplace hearths in abandoned buildings. Once, I even found a genuine legal tender $1000 bill folded up and hidden inside an old camera case at the flea market. (We like to take turns walking around town with that picture of Grover Cleveland in our wallets.)

In addition, we find valuable rocks in the abandoned gold and gemstone mines in the area, like rubies and emeralds. Once we dug all weekend down by the river. The final hole was ten feet wide and nine feet deep. But, at the bottom we found a 7 ½ lb solid gold nugget.

All in all, we probably have a half million dollars worth of goodies in our safe. That seems like a good reason to keep it out of sight.

When we recover jewelry around town, we put an ad in the lost and found section of the Granite Falls Gazette. If we find the original owner, this is likely to end up in a cash reward. And, you would not believe the goodwill it generates. Teachers, librarians, principals and even the Police Chief's wife all believe we are 'such fine young men' because of the treasures we have returned. And, they have helped us on more than one occasion to resolve the 'misunderstandings' that have resulted from some of our less successful adventures.

We E-bay some of the stuff to pay club bills and buy equipment. Of course we don't want to attract too much attention. If we got caught in the spotlight we would have to answer way too many questions that we don't want to bother with. We try and keep a low profile, and we don't sell much. Most of our goodies just get left in the old steel monster.

Besides all we really need is ten or twenty thousand dollars in our PayPal account, and we are pretty well set.

**************

### Chapter 11 – Going Bump in the Night

It was a little past nine by the time we got changed into our black suits. We replaced the old batteries in our night vision gear and then we rolled out. Ten minutes later we were stashing our electric scooters in the bushes beside the GF mini golf course. We had covered all 18 holes and the outside clubhouse earlier. Tonight we were moving inside to the combined storehouse and apartment behind the course, where Mr. Shiner lived.

We moved as quietly as possible and communicated only throughout totally silent text messengers. Dogs barked in the distance as we scurried up to find the door to the apartment was unlocked. I guess no one thought to check it as they were taking Mr. Shiner away in the ambulance. Anyway, we hurried inside and only the creaking screen door gave us away.

It was a small apartment with a living room in front, a kitchen in the corner and a small bedroom coming off the back. A freshwater aquarium with a neon strip on top provided us with more than enough light to explore the front room and the kitchen.

The front room of the apartment looked like an aviation catalogue exploded. There was WWII airplane stuff everywhere. There were pictures and souvenirs and about a dozen model P-51 Mustangs on the walls, on the tables and even hanging down from the ceiling. But, none of them appeared magical.

Fighting a World War to save the planet from tyranny and oppression was a big part of Mr. Shiner life. I made a mental note to ask him about his wartime exploits the next time we met.

We continued to examine the place as quietly as possible until Shad banged his shin on a wooden rocking chair next to the television.

'Youch,' he yelped, and was promptly inundated with **'SHUT UP!'** IM's from the entire group.

' **Find the magic,'** my screen flashed an IM from Charlie which kind of annoyed me.

' **Feed the fish,** ' I sent back.

Moving slowly around the room, I scanned for anything unusual. But, as I said before, I was not really sure what I was looking for. Step by step, I moved through the room. There was a TV, a rocking chair, an old couch and a book shelf. There were the usual gold and silver background tones that you would expect in a house – probably a watch and some pocket change – but nothing stood out. Although, the red and blue Tetras in the fish tank flashed like neon bulbs in our night vision goggles.

On the table next to Mr. Shiners rocker was a sterling silver picture frame. I picked it up and tried to make out the images in green glow of the NVG's. It was a photograph of a group of men in coveralls standing beside a WWII fighter plane. The caption said: Ground Crew for the Double M. I tried to figure out which one of the smiling faces belonged to a much younger Brock Shiner, but it was impossible to make out the details without turning on the lights. And, that was not going to happen.

Finally, I put down the picture frame and moved onto the small but well kept kitchen. All the dishes were cleaned and put away – but there was still a half a plate of homemade cookies on the counter.

I browsed through some cabinets, but there was nothing there. I opened the pantry door and saw cereal boxes, canned food and the usual stuff you find in a pantry.

At the other side of the tiny kitchen was another door, probably to the basement. I tried the knob and found it was locked tight. I put my ear to the door but did not get anything recognizable.

As I started out of the kitchen, Freddie walked over.

' **HERE,'** my screen flashed.

I took something from his outstretched hand. Examining it closely in the light of the aquarium, I saw it was a 2 inch plastic figure of a wizard.

' **IT'S MAGIC,'** my screen flashed.

I was shaking my head back and forth indicating I though the wizard was a really stupid idea.

' **JUST TRY** ,' he messaged.

So, since I could not think of anything better to do, I held the little wizard up to me ear, closed my eyes and concentrated. I tuned into the tiny little tone that came off the tiny little figure.

You could have knocked me over with a feather when I picked up a similar tone coming from the back room!

' **I'M GETTING SOMETHING'** I sent out. And, I moved into the unlighted bedroom.

My night vision goggles helped me navigate around the room, though it was much darker in here where the light from the fish tank did not travel. It was a small room with a dresser, a bed and a bedside table.

The tone seemed to be getting stronger as I approached the table. I reached down and opened up the table drawer and the sound got noticeably louder. I reached inside and pulled out a leather bound book. I held it up in the darkness. I had no idea what it was. But, there was no question it was the source of the magic.

I squinted, trying to make out the title when my screen flashed again, **'SOMEONE'S HERE!'**

I jammed the book inside my shirt and quickly closed the drawer. Then, I moved to the entrance to the main room.

Now, I could hear someone trying to get in. They were messing with the front door knob. I realized they must have tried to unlock the door – but since it was already unlocked – they had actually locked it.

The door rattled again and a familiar voice outside said, 'this stupid thing is stuck.'

' **HIDE!'** came across all our screens.

We scattered. I ran back into the bedroom. A couple of figures beat me to the closet, so I dived under the bed – just as the front door opened.

I could hear Lyndsey's voice. And, although she was talking, no one was answering back. Then, I heard a quiet woof come from the entrance to the bedroom. Suddenly, a face poked under the bed. With my night vision, I saw a weird shaped nose and blazing demon bright eyes!

I did not know whether I was going to scream or wet my pants when suddenly the thing stretched out and licked me on the face.

Taking a deep breath, I tried to regain my composure. The long furry nosed creature was Lyndsey's dog, Blazedale. He and I were old friends. I did not have anything to be scared of – except him ratting me out.

"These fish don't seem very hungry," I heard Lyndsey say from the other room. "Well Blaze, I guess they'll eat when they are good and ready."

From the sounds she made, I could tell she moved into the kitchen and opened the pantry door.

"I'll just borrow some of Granddad's spices, so I can make him another batch of cookies. Then we can scoot."

Blazedale withdrew his head from under the bed, and I heard him leave the bedroom.

"Good boy, Blaze," Lyndsey addressed the dog. "I sure feel a lot safer with you along."

The pantry door shut.

"Okay, boy. Let's head out."

The front door opened again. There was a brief pause. Then I heard a small sad say, "I sure hope that Grandpa is going to be okay."

Then, another long pause and the door finally shut.

' **LET'S GET OUT OF HERE!'** flashed across my screen. And, we did not waste any time making our getaway.

***************

### Chapter 12 – Bird Clue

It had been a close call, and we were still pretty shaky as we scootered back to the Tree House. Of course, we were still trying to sneak and keep a low profile. But, I think there our quiet demeanor was from the residual shock of being interrupted.

When we arrived at the tree house, we scurried up the ladder and began pulling off our night vision gear. Then we removed the batteries and placed it in the old army footlocker against the wall. It took a few seconds for our eyes to adjust to natural light again.

Finally, Thor asked, "So Jeep, did you find anything?"

I pulled out the 2 inch wizard and plopped him down on top of the footlocker.

"Freddie brought this along," I replied. "And, I have to admit it did the trick. It led me to something."

I lifted up my black shirt and pulled out the book I had stuck in front of my pants. I laid it down beside the wizard.

"I don't know what it is. But, it sure was singing to me."

Toby reached across and picked up the book. He opened the worn leather cover and began thumbing through it. He stopped at the title page.

"Is it... Is it really Magic?" Thor asked.

Toby did not answer right away. But he smiled a knowing smile and shook his head yes.

"Oh, yeah. It's magic alright. Sorcery, spells, dragons, elves and the eternal struggle between good and evil... all for the control of middle earth."

He dropped it next to the wizard on the footlocker.

"It's The Lord of the Rings."

It took a minute to sink in. Of course the wizard looked familiar. It was Gandalf! And, he had used me to summon up his fictional home world. (It was kind of neat when you think about it, but it sure did not help our investigation.)

"Oh Snap!" I barked with disappointment.

After all this time and effort we were still nowhere. We still had no idea what the magic was, who was drugging Mr. Shiner or how to save the golf course.

I took a deep breath and blew it out. Well, at least I knew I could count on the support of my fellow Rangers.

"Smooth move, Muldoon," Shad snickered. "You're a regular hobbit tracking bloodhound."

"Yeah. Way to go, magic sniffer," Freddie added.

Magic Sniffer? So much for solidarity! I was about to tell Freddie he could sniff my fist, when I was interrupted by a sing songy voice from outside the window.

"Board of the Rings!" the voice shouted. "Board of the Rings!"

For a parrot, Rottweiler really loves to make a grand entrance. With one last big squawk - he flew in the window and landed atop the novel.

"Hello Frodo," he said, to no one in particular.

Then Rott opened his wings, spread out his tail and raised his crown feathers. He stopped for a second, then reared back like he was about to crow.

'Nilla!' he screeched. 'Nilla, Round Boy. Nilla!'

'Gee, I'm all out of Vanilla wafers, Rott", Shad responded. But, then he remembered something. "Hey, wait a minute. I have some cookies I picked up at Mr. Shiner's place"

Shad reached into his pocket and pulled out one of Lyndsey's creations and handed it to the bird. Then he turned to the rest of us and explained sheepishly.

"Hey, I was afraid my blood sugar was getting low."

"Well at least we didn't come back empty handed," Charlie added sarcastically.

"Hhm," said the bird as he examined the cookie.

Lifting it up with his claw, he eyed the confection closely. Finally, he used his powerful black beak to crunch off a chunk. It must have been pretty stale because it did not crumble without an effort. For a second he ground the cookie up in his beak and then the parrot swallowed.

"HOLY TOLEDO!!!" the bird exploded. "YUCK! YUCK! YUCK! YUUCCKKK!!"

Rottweiler started dancing around. But, this time he wasn't talking. He was spitting. And, if you think a 12 inch African Gray can't spit – you have obviously never seen one motivated.

We covered our faces with our arms as the bird began circling the table shooting saliva like a deranged lawn sprinkler. It seemed like forever before the bird calmed down.

"Water. Water. Water. Water," Rott squawked as he shot over to his water dish on the window sill.

The rest of us were left scraping off bird spit and cookie crumbs while we listened to Rott at the water dish. He sounded like he was drinking, gargling, showering and bathing all at the same time. Every once in a while he punctuated his little parrot fit with more exaggerated expectoration.

We made our way through half a roll of paper towels wiping off parrot saliva. (Always keep paper towels handy if you have a bird!)

Finally, Rottweiler came marching in on the big oak limb. Those of us, who had not changed out of our black shirts, pulled our hands inside of the long sleeves. We certainly did not want to leave any fingers exposed. After his explosion we weren't sure what kind of retaliation the crazy parrot had in mind. But, none of us was prepared for what happened next.

Rottweiler marched to the center of the room. Then he hopped to the middle of the footlocker. (I say he hopped, but it was more like he flopped in mid air).

And then Rottweiler began to sway....

Like he was moving to music that we could not hear, Rott rocked back and forth probably half a dozen times. Then, he opened his mouth and he began to sing.

I'm no expert on musical theatre, but I am pretty sure it was Maria's Song from West Side Story.

"I feel pretty. Oh so pretty. I feel pretty and witty and bright! I feel pretty, and I pity any girl who isn't me tonight!"

Then Rott began to waltz around on top of the footlocker like it was a stage. He danced to one side and sang, "See the pretty girl in the mirror there."

And he continued waltzing and singing around and around the footlocker. Finally, after about a minute of performing, he reached his finale:

"For I'm loved by a pretty wonderful boy!"

For a second Rottweiler was quiet. And then he took a bow. That crazy bird actually bent over with one wing stretched in front and took a bow!

Rott straightened up and waved to his audience saying, "Thank you, and Good Night."

Then, Rottweiler fainted dead away.

When Rott passed out, we didn't waste any time. After all, we had gone through the exact same emergency with Mr. Shiner.

But, rather than call 911 with a sick parrot, we grabbed Rott up and rushed him to the Veterinary hospital. We called Dr. Cayer along the way, and she was unlocking the front door as we scooted up.

The Doctor gave Rott a quick examination as we stood beside her in exam room A. The good news was that Rott was breathing strong, although his heart rate was elevated. We explained to the Doctor that he had passed out after putting on a stage show. Dr. Cayer said she wished she had been there to see it – and that she had never seen a parrot take a bow before.

Dr Cayer took her time and gave Rott a thorough going over. Finally, she flashed us a 'thumbs up'. Then, she took out a pill and broke it into part. And, she pushed a piece of it between the bird's beak.

"Birdie aspirin," the veterinarian explained.

Dr. Cayer went ahead and moved Rottweiler to an unoccupied cage in the back. She said he would probably just sleep it off – but she wanted to observe him for a couple of days.

*********

It was getting awful late by the time we left the Vet hospital. We called our parents to explain the emergency – but they were not happy about us still being out, even if it was summer vacation. So, we hurried home to bed, agreeing to meet at the PC bright and early the next morning.

***************

### Chapter 13 – Recipe for Disaster

It was almost noon before we all dragged ourselves up to the Tree House the next day. The first item on the agenda: poisoned cookies.

Charlie held what was left of the cookie up to the light. He studied it intently, and then he brought it to his nose and gingerly sniffed it. "Licorice," he said. "It smells like licorice to me. What about it? Does anyone know if there are any poisons that smell like licorice?"

Toby flipped open his laptop and went online with our WI-FI connection. But, before he could Google Licorice + Poison, Shad answered.

"It's Anise. Or, more specifically, Chinese Star Anise. This cookie is loaded with it."

Before I go any further, I guess I should tell you about Shad.

Shad has a televistic memory. Not a photographic memory. He doesn't remember everything he reads. He remembers everything he sees and hears on TV. He can remember word for word, exactly what is said and by whom.

Usually, he just repeats old jokes or even commercials over and over again. But, since he loves to watch the Discovery channel – he is able to share a wide stream of scientific knowledge. It may be obscure, but sometimes this information can come in real handy. Like Today.

Shad began quoting:"Chinese Star Anise is a star-shaped spice obtained from a small evergreen tree native to southwest China. The star shaped fruits are harvested just before ripening. It is widely used in Chinese cooking and is somewhat less popular throughout the orient. Star anise contains anethole, the same ingredient which gives the unrelated European Anise its flavor. Recently, star anise has come into use in the West because it is less expensive. It is used in baking, and provides the distinctive licorice taste of the liquor Galliano."

"But we're looking for a poison," said Charlie.

"It can be a poison," Shad continued. "Cases of illness, including 'serious neurological effects, such as seizures' have been reported after overdosing on star anise tea. Discovery Channel Productions," he explained. "'The Spice of Life'".

"Well," Charlie surmised. "We have our first break in this investigation. It appears that Lyndsey Dalrymple has poisoned her own Grandfather and our bird!"

**********

With information in hand, we decided to pay Lyndsey a visit and get her side of the story. And, let me tell you what, she was not a happy camper when Toby and I showed up suggesting that she poisoned her Grandfather. To prove we were off base she ran to the kitchen and returned to the door with the recipe card.

"There losers!" Lyndsey announced triumphantly waving the recipe in our faces. "12 teaspoons. Just like I said."

But her smile didn't last long.

Toby took the recipe card and held it up to the sunlight. He used his fingernail to scrape away a small dried glob of cookie dough from the paper. It now showed ½ teaspoon. That little dried spot of flour almost killed Lyndsey's Grandfather and our parrot.

Lyndsey's mouth dropped open and she stood in stunned silence for a several seconds.

Then, she dissolved into tears.

Lyndsey cried so hard, I think she forgot how to breath. Suddenly, she went all wobbly, and it looked for a moment like she was going to pass out. Without thinking, I caught her in my arms to keep her from hitting the sidewalk. Then, for several minutes she sobbed on my shoulder until her tears finally ran dry. At last she was able to catch her breath. By then I could probably have let her go, but I didn't want to take the chance.

"It's okay," I said. "It was a simple mistake. It was just a speck of flour. And, there was no real harm done."

"But you don't understand Jeep," she corrected. "I have another batch in the oven right now. If you hadn't come along when you did – I would be on my way over to Grandpa's with a fresh batch of poison."

She gazed into my eyes.

"You saved him, Jeep. You saved Grandpa Shiner. And you saved me, too. I don't know what I would have done \- if the worst had happened and it had been my fault."

Then, Lyndsey put her arms around my neck and planted a great big kiss right on my lips. In broad daylight!

I knew the guys would be teasing me about this for months. But, right there and then, it sure didn't seem to matter.

***************

Chapter 14 – The Golf Legend and the Master of the Skies

We all went down to Granite Falls Mini Golf the next day to welcome Mr. Shiner home from the hospital. Now that the doctors knew what the problem was, they believed he would make a complete recovery. They just wanted him to take it easy for a few days.

As we stood around waiting for Mr. Shiner's son, Lyndsey's Dad, to drive up, Thor made an observation. "So, there never really was any magic? It was just a hallucination brought on by a bad cookie?"

"It looks that way," I replied.

"Oh, I don't know about that," Toby countered. "I think there might be some magic here after all."

He turned to Shad McReynolds. "Shad, did you bring what I asked for?"

"It's right here," Shad replied, handing over a plastic shopping bag.

Toby continued, "Last night it hit me. Maybe we are looking for the wrong kind of Magic. Maybe we are looking for the wrong kind of Merlin. Shad? What can you tell me about Merlin?"

"Merlin," Shad replied. "Merlin Ambrosius - also known in Welsh as Myrddin Wyllt (Merlin the Wild). In Arthurian legend, a magician and prophet who served as counselor to King Arthur."

"Precisely," said Toby. "But, there are other Merlins you can think of? We know Mr. Shiner served in the US Army Air Force in Europe in World War II. Were there any 'Merlins' that served with the USAAF? "

"Hmmm," Shad thought. "Let me change gears here for a moment. Let's see. Wings. Wings. Wings. Okay....

"Merlin. The Rolls Royce Merlin Engine. A 12 cylinder, 60° "V", 27 litre, liquid cooled aircraft engine built during WWII under license by the Packard Automobile Company. The Merlin name came from a small falcon also known as a 'pigeon hawk' rather than King Arthur's legendary sorcerer."

"Exactly!" said Toby.

"You mean all this time we should have been looking for an aircraft engine?" Charlie posed.

"Maybe," said Toby, "or, maybe something more."

Toby reached into the shopping bag and pulled out a model airplane.

"Be careful with that," Shad cautioned. "The glue's not fully set."

Toby handed the model to me. "Okay Jeep. See if this stirs anything up."

I held the little replica aircraft up and let it speak to me.

Toby explained, "I Googled Merlin last night on my PC at home. What I found was that the Merlin engine transformed North American's P-51 Mustang from a so so performer – into the most celebrated single engine fighter of World War II. That started me thinking. And then I remembered something that Councilman Porkbutt shared with us the other afternoon. Does anyone remember what was here before the Mini Golf?"

"A Spa," Thor answered.

"That's right: a Spa. And, does anyone remember what the Spa was known for?"

This time I called out the answer, "A giant indoor swimming pool!"

But, I was not just standing still anymore. I was moving. I held the little airplane out in front of me like a divining rod. It was leading me. And, from somewhere beneath me I could hear 'a song.' But, it was a song unlike any I had ever heard before. It was a deep throaty growl. It was a rumble. It was the purr of a creature that once ruled the skies across Europe. Now, as close as I could tell, it was coming from the earth eight feet below me.

"There's something here," I said. "It's below us. It's in the Spa's old swimming pool!"

I was so preoccupied; I did not hear the car doors shutting. But, now I looked up and saw Mr. Shiner. He was smiling as he walked up.

"There is something down there. Isn't there, Mr. Shiner?" I asked.

"That's right, Jeep," he replied. "And you boys have earned the right to see her. If you want to see Merlin's Magic just follow me."

The old fellow was still a little unsteady. But, he was brimming with excitement as he led us into his apartment. We walked into the kitchen and he pulled out a key that dangled from a string around his wrist. Mr. Shiner unlocked the door that we assumed led down to the basement. He opened the door and stepped through the threshold.

Not wanting to be left behind, we quickly followed Mr. Shiner down the stairs into the darkened basement. But, when Mr. Shiner hit the lights, we saw this was not a basement at all. It was an old swimming pool – that had been converted into an underground aircraft hangar.

And, there she was.

*********

She sat in the center of the room, as sweet and shiny as the day she rolled off the assembly line, over 60 years ago. There was no mistaking her sleek deadly demeanor, her bubble canopy, her four bladed prop or the bulging air scoop on her belly. She was a North American P-51 D fighter airplane.

Her coat was silver and slick. And, on her nose was the hand painted figure of cross eyed wizard with lightning coming from his wand. Underneath in black letters were the words: "Merlin's Magic".

"It's the double M," Toby gasped. "It's Merlin's Magic!"

Beside and below the canopy I also noticed the lettering 'Crew Chief: Brock Shiner'.

We were stunned. No one said anything for a minute. We just walked around, taking it in from different angles and occasionally rubbing our eyes like we expected it to disappear.

I walked up and placed my hand on the wing to see what a legendary aircraft felt like.

"She's amazing," I stammered. "But why underground?"

Mr. Shiner smiled broadly, "She is a beauty isn't she? I was her crew chief when I served with the Mighty Eighth in WWII. I labored and sweated over her. Each day we watched her fly off and stood on pins and needles until she returned. Then we cleaned her up, we patched her holes and put her back together. She was our Magic. And, I loved her more than any other thing I ever owned – and more than most people. But, then the war ended. And, no one needed her anymore. Thousands like her were chopped up and sold for scrap. I just couldn't let that happen to the Magic. I still needed her even if the Air Corp didn't. So, I decided to buy her myself! "

The old man paused for a second.

"All those years in the army, I did not have anything to spend my money on. Now I did. And, you would not believe how little frontline aircraft were being sold for after the war. But, the Army had already sold her to an outfit in Arizona. And, since they wanted an airplane, I bought a different P-51, changed the serial numbers and sent it out to Flagstaff. I dismantled the Magic and shipped her in pieces back to Granite Falls, where I put her back together down here, away from prying eyes."

Toby chimed in," technically, she wasn't yours. You could not take the chance that salvage group – or maybe the army – would want her back. So, you kept her hidden down her all those years."

"That's right, son. This was my hideaway. I had my tools down here. I put in a TV set and my Lazy boy chair. I even framed the original hand drawn plans for the golf course and mounted them on the wall. Since Lyndsey's grandmother passed, I have practically lived down here. I come down here every evening and polish up the Magic. Then, I sit and think about the good times and the old friends. I'll tell you boys, when you reach my age, it's sometimes easier to remember what happened fifty years ago than what you did yesterday."

He sighed, "But now, since they are taking away my golf course, I guess I can't keep here down here any longer. Besides, she's a wild bird. It isn't right to keep here cooped up anymore."

We continued moving around the hanger in quiet reverence like we were in church, admiring the Magic from both sides and front and back.

She was an amazing secret!

*********

Freddie was the first one to turn his attention to our surroundings. In the corner of the room, he found a drain pipe that came down from above and fed into an open barrel full of colored golf balls.

"I told you!" he cried. "That's where those golf balls on hole 18 ended up. If we had just gone down the hole like I said, we would have solved this mystery days ago!"

Meanwhile, Charlie Sinclair examined the golf course sketches that hung along the walls. "Mr. Shiner, these sketches? You did not make them did you? "

"No, Son," the old fellow replied. "Back during the war we had a USO group come through to entertain the troops. Weather kept their plane grounded at our base for almost three days. During that time I got to know a fella who was a golfer from Atlanta. When I told him I wanted to build a miniature golf course after the War, he made these drawings for me."

"And, the course upstairs?" asked Charlie. "You used these designs for the holes?"

"Yep. All eighteen."

"Guys, come over here and look at this," Charlie ordered, excitement creeping into his voice. "Does that signature say what I think it does?"

Toby walked over and examined the signature closely. Then he whistled softly.

"Whoa... Mr. Shiner," Toby said. "Don't worry about moving out just yet. When we tell the world who designed your course, golfers from all over will be laying down in front of those bulldozers."

***************

### Chapter 15 – Released and Re-united

Six weeks after Mr. Shiner came home from the Hospital, we attended the grand reopening of the 'Granite Falls Miniature Golf Course – Designed by Bobby Jones'.

Golf enthusiasts from all over the county had come to play this 'Brand New' Bobby Jones course. Being featured on the front cover of 'GOLF DIGEST' didn't hurt any either.

The Governor of the State came to the ribbon cutting ceremony and he brought along his favorite putter. In addition there were even three chartered buses from Augusta National, Bobby Jones' country club in Georgia.

Of course, the City Council gave up the whole parking lot idea. They even passed a proclamation granting the course landmark status. Porkbutt Preferred Parking was not going to get its hands on this piece of Granite Falls' history.

We were really looking forward to seeing regret and defeat on Wiley Porkbutt's face now that his plans came to a screeching halt. But, as luck would have it, he attended the Grand Opening with a huge smile. He had just made a deal for the abandoned Drug Store next door. He couldn't wait to bulldoze it to the ground and put down some asphalt.

However, I could not be upset, when the Governor shook Mr. Shiner's hand and cut that big blue ribbon. Then seconds later the unmistakable rumble of a Merlin engine filled the air.

Mr. Shiner made a deal with the local wing of the Air National Guard. He donated the aircraft to the ANG on the condition that they keep it at the local airbase and fly it at least once a month. These days, Mr. Shiner spent his evenings at the air base, spinning tails to a new generation of men and women who defend freedom and protect the heavens.

We were all smiles on that beautiful mid-summer day. And everyone was looking straight up as that incredible Mustang victory rolled across the crystal blue Carolina sky.

Those not cheering at the P-51 passing over head, were smiling at the tears coming down from an old man's eyes, as his dearest friend once more 'slipped the surly bonds of earth'.

And, out of those hundreds present, only two people even noticed when an arm adorned with a recently returned sterling ID bracelet that said 'LYNDSEY', moved close to my arm. And, I had the biggest smile in the crowd, when the prettiest girl there slipped her hand into mine.

**************

### The Wind Up.

So, that's the story of how we solved the Mystery of Merlin's Magic. And, in the process we stopped the Mini Golf Course from becoming a parking lot and we saved Mr. Shiner and our parrot Rottweiler from poison cookie death.

And, the neatest part of this mystery is that we discovered a genuine WWII P-51 fighter. I have to say that Mustang is the coolest thing I have ever located.

Of course, without my family and my fellow Rangers there would not have been a story. After all, it was my Grandpa Gus who trained me to be the world's greatest locator. And, without the guys, I would have just spent the summer lying around playing video games instead of having the most amazing adventure of my life!

Because, when it comes right down to it, all I really do is find things. But, I do have something to admit.

Even I can't wait to see - what it is that I find next.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

### CSI – Granite Falls

I always look forward to Saturday afternoons, because for Dad and me Saturday afternoons are 'guy time,' when we do guy things. We go fishing. We go to football games or play miniature golf. Sometimes we even go to the shooting range and Dad let's me try out his muzzleloader.

After we are done with our adventures, Dad always takes me by Darby's and he doesn't mind if I get an order of cheese fries and an order of chili fries and a order of plain fries with ketchup. Of course I wash all those fries down with the largest Cherry Coke in Granite Falls and he does not say a word about how I am ruining my dinner. Instead, while I eat, Dad tells me stories about what things were like in Granite Falls when he was a kid.

It's the perfect way to spend a Saturday afternoon.

Unfortunately, this weekend Dad was in Atlanta where he is attending something called a 'Suppliers Meeting'. Of course, I begged him to take me. But, he said a suppliers meeting was no place for a boy my age.

The only good news is that he promised when he got home on Friday, he would take me to the Granite Falls High School game and buy me all the nachos I can stuff in my face.

So, that is how I ended up alone on one particular Saturday afternoon. Mom and Jenny had gone to the multiplex in Hickory to see something called 'Loves Enduring Heartbreak' or 'Heart's Enduring Love' or 'A Loving Heart Endures' or some other awful chick choice where there's not a single rocket propelled grenade in the entire movie!

Mom invited me to go with them but I politely declined, telling her I would rather be staked naked to an ant hill and force fed instant grits.

So, there I was. No Dad. No game. No French fries. Not even a Cherry Coke. I was spending Saturday afternoon bored silly, surfing through 89 channels of nothing and wishing I was in Atlanta meeting suppliers. But, all that changed when I got an emergency Code Red Text from Freddie Dunkleberger.

Mom's Museum. Now! The mask is gone!

**************

The Granite Falls Exploratorium does not really belong to Freddie's Mom. Ms. Dunkleberger is just the Head Curator. Of course, that might be because she is also the only Curator of the museum. It is a small museum with a small staff but they do a big job with their hands on approach to history, geography and science.

Freddie's Mom used to be a big wheel at the Field Museum in Chicago where she supervised the entire Middle Eastern collection. But, when Freddie's Dad was killed at the Pentagon on 9/11, Ms. Dunkleberger took the job at the Exploratorium to be close to Freddie's grandparents.

When Freddie moved to Granite Falls he was a kid with a Big City Complex. He used to start every other sentence with 'In Chicago we do things differently.' However, with patience and some negative reinforcement (a frog in the arm or an Indian burn) we eventually broke Freddie of that annoying habit.

Anyway, after I received the Code Red message, I wrote out a note for Mom and took out for the museum as fast as my feet could peddle. The entire club was assembling when I rode up.

The Exploratorium was built on the site of an old Forest Service training center. In the back are a group of original brown brick building with green tile roofing where museum collections are stored. The site is covered with tall pine trees and there is a beautiful clear creek that bubbles through the center. The creek is dammed into a lush little fish pond that contains giant Japanese goldfish called Koi. The Koi come to the surface begging for food every time someone walks by.

The hub of the museum is a two story building with a fossilized limestone base and great big windows that spiral up to a circular tower on one side. The other side squares into offices and a loading dock. Out back is a well kept barn that houses a petting zoo with a variety of goats, rabbits, cattle and the giraffe that the club donated.

Freddie was standing on the cement walkway when we pulled up out front. He quickly filled us in on why he brought us all together.

"Someone took Amon Re's death mask. They just grabbed it right out of the display case in the middle of the museum without even removing the padlock. The museum was getting ready for the exhibit that is supposed to open tomorrow. Mom's worked for over a year to get all the details set. And now, someone's stolen the center piece of the whole project. We have to get it back for her."

"We've gotta get Amon Re's death mask back, before the museum opens tomorrow afternoon!"

"Don't worry Freddie," Charlie assured him. "We'll do our best to find out who took it and to get it back safe and sound. We have some top flight scientists and mystery solvers, not to mention the best locator in the world. If that mask is still here, I'm sure we can find it. We just need to apply some scientific investigative techniques."

"Yeah," said Shad. "First of all, does this fellow Harmon Ray have any idea who took his mask?"

"It's not Harmon Ray, doofus," Freddie replied, clearly upset by his Mom's predicament. "It's Amon Re. A-m-o-n space R-e," he spelled.

"Don't call me a doofus, doofus," said Shad. "If some of us had better elocution others of us would not be confused."

I started to comment that it would take more than elocution to end Shad's confusion but I knew that would just sidetrack our investigation.

As we walked around to the corner of the museum, Freddie explained that Amon Re was an Egyptian Pharaoh that lived about 5000 years ago. When Amon Re died, the solid gold death mask was placed on his mummified body so that his soul could recognize it in the afterlife. The mask was priceless and the museum had recently upgraded its security systems in order to protect it during the very last public display in the USA. In two months the owner of the mask, Edmond Carpmouth III, was bowing to political pressure and donating the mask to the Egyptian government.

"How did this priceless mask end up in our little town?" Toby questioned.

"It's kind of odd," Freddie replied. "Mom has been trying for years to get Mr. Carpmouth to put one of the Amon Re pieces on display at the Field Museum. He has always turned her down flat. He would not even send one of the four Coptic jars that the mummy's organs are stored in."

"Now, all of a sudden, he chooses the Granite Falls Exploratorium for this final exhibition. And, he agreed to display the mask, the mummy, all four Coptic jars and Amon Re's giant stone sarcophagus."

"He even sent some of his own people over to work on special security upgrades."

"Mom can't figure out why he chose us. But, it's the biggest exhibition she's handled since she left the Field Museum and she's really excited about it. If it's cancelled over the robbery, she'll be broken hearted."

"We won't let that happen," Charlie assured him. "Let's get into that exhibit room and get this investigation started."

"Good Idea," said Freddie. "Let's go. We've got to work fast. Mr. Carpmouth is with Mom in her office. He has already called a friend at the FBI who is coming to check things out. So, we have to do our clue finding before the Feds get here."

Freddie took us inside the building by the side door. We came in through the 'Life Beneath the Waves' room and followed the donors tiled walkway toward the main exhibit chamber. (My folks donated enough money so that Jenny and I both got to paint a tile that was laid in the floor here. I took special care to stomp on Jenny's tile while I admired my own work of art in the hallway.)

We turned the corner and walked under a large colorful banner proclaiming 'The Majesty of Amon Re'. Moving into the main hall, we began carefully studying the exhibit.

We entered the hall walking along a course set up to handle the large crowds that were expected. The first stop on the tour is the giant coffin-like stone sarcophagus that is set up on the right side of the room. Next to the sarcophagus, you see Amon Re's mummy on top of a table under a glass top. Still wrapped in bandages, he looks like he is just waiting for the next full moon to get up off that table and seek revenge. (Every time I looked at that Mummy, I could not help but glance around for Brendan Frazier!)

Just beyond the mummy, there were four white stone 'alabaster' containers called Coptic jars sitting on a large cloth covered shelf. The Coptic jars held all of the mummy's internal organs. The organs were removed during the mummification process.

Finally, the last stop on the tour was death mask of Amon Re. The mask was displayed in a case that is on top of a large pedestal draped in black cloth. Onlookers are kept back by velvet ropes on poles like at the movie theatre. Surrounding the mask, I could see three closed circuit cameras and several laser stations that were probably motion sensor devices that controlled the alarm.

The display case is like a glass box with hinges on the back and it reminds me of one of those newspaper racks you put coins into. You can lift up the top of the case, insert the mask and then lower the top and lock it back into place. It seemed like a great place to display something really valuable. Only in this instance, it was empty.

We did not waste any time but got right down to investigating.

Shad made a suggestion. "The first thing we have to do spray everything down with Luminol and get us a black light."

"And, what exactly would that tell us oh great detective?" asked a skeptical Charlie Sinclair.

"Well," said Shad. "It shows up any blood stains. It even shows the stains where the blood is dried or the killer has gone to a lot of trouble to clean them up."

Toby pointed out the obvious. "But, no one was killed here. So, technically there should not be any blood stains to find. I don't think the mask was bleeding and I'm pretty sure that the mummy had all its blood drained about 5000 years ago."

"Okay, Mr. Wizard," Shad retorted. "Why don't you tell us what we should be doing?"

Clearly, Toby had already worked out a plan in his head and he wasted no time sharing it with us.

"Shad and Freddie, you go look for anything that's out of place. Search the floor and collect any dirt or pieces of trash. Thor, you to exam the display box. Look for a false back or a slide out piece of glass. Anything that would explain how the mask could be removed while the box was locked. Bogdon, get out the video camera and make a record of everything. Get tape of all the items on display. Get the entrances to the room. Video tape the walls, the floor, the ceiling, the cameras and lasers and anything else you can think of. And Jeep, you come with me and Charlie. We are going to sweep the exhibit hall and then move methodically through the building and the grounds. We are looking for gold. Any gold at all."

Toby's plan seemed as good as any. So, we did what we were told.

Toby gave us a few final instructions.

"Now let's get moving. We don't know how much time we'll have before the FBI gets here and throws us all out."

I immediately took a seat on the main bench in front of the mask display area. Then I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. I dialed up my concentration and I just listened.

'Hummmmmm'

"Quiet," I demanded. "I need to concentrate."

"Nobody said anything," Toby replied.

'Hummmmmm'

"But, somebody's humming. Don't you guys hear that humming sound?"

"Nope," said Charlie. "I don't hear anything."

"Me neither," added Toby.

I stood up and circled around the room.

"There is a strange humming sound in this room," I explained.

I cocked my head and focused on the hum. It only took me a second to realize the noise was coming from the upper corners of the room and then converging at the center.

"It's the laser!" I realized. "They're humming."

"You mean the laser generators are making noise?" asked Charlie.

"Not the generators," I explained. "It's the laser beams that are humming."

Toby walked over and looked me in the face.

"Do you mean to say that you can hear the laser light?"

"I don't know," I replied. "I have never heard light before. I can't hear sunlight, or moonlight or indoor lighting. So, why would I hear laser light?"

Toby thought for a minute.

"Laser light is coherent light. It arises from a process which amplifies and stimulates the light. The emitted photons are "in step" and have a definite phase relation to each other."

"What the heck does that mean?" I asked.

Toby clarified, "well, basically all the light in a beam is on the same wavelength and the protons are bouncing around in the same phase together. You probably can't hear individual light waves or particles. But, when they are all singing in the same key you apparently can."

"Boy," Toby continued. "This would make a wonderful science project."

Charlie brought us back to the here and now. "Yeah? Well stick pins in Jeep later. Right now, we have to find the mask."

"I'm sorry," I said. "I can't hear anything in exhibit room. Those lasers are drowning out the location tones."

"Well," said Charlie. "Let's sweep the rest of the museum and check the grounds. Hopefully, there won't be anything jamming you up outside this room."

We took off at a trot and were running as we systematically moved through the building. At each room we came to, I stopped and concentrated, listening for the smooth mellow tones of gold.

I found exactly what you might expect to find in a children's museum. There were some gold flakes and nuggets in the mineral collection and there was a gold double eagle coin on display in the history collection. At least I did not run into any other laser 'jammers', and before long we were done inside.

Moving outdoors, we systematically searched the back property of the museum. The old Forest Service buildings and the barn did not produce anything but a half buried earring and an old tie tac.

However, Tony the giraffe was happy to see us. He kept licking his lips with his purple tongue. I just wished I had one of the frozen fruit juice popsicles that he likes so much.

After we said good bye to Tony, I sat down on a wooden bench across from the Koi pond to rest and regroup. As I sat there listening to the water cascading through a three level native rock fountain, I pondered our situation. Without saying a word, Toby and Charlie sat down beside me and we watched the giant Koi come begging to the surface.

The fish were a variety of colors from deep oranges and blacks to lemon yellows and whipped cream whites. Their patterns were all different but they opened their rounded mouths the same as they swam through the Lilly pads and broke the surface. Colorful feelers snaked out from the corners of their mouths like goldfish mustaches.

"It must be close to feeding time," said Charlie as some Koi pushed themselves above the other fish and out of the water.

"They are worse than pigeons," Toby added.

"More like packrats," I said. "That orange and black one that just broke the surface... I'm pretty sure he's swallowed a diamond engagement ring. Don't ask me where he got it."

"I guess that makes him a diamond goldfish," said Toby. But, none of us laughed. We had too much to worry about. We were at a dead end, surrounded by giant gold fish that will eat anything.

Charlie finally spoke up. "As much as I would like to stay out here and watch the Koi, we better go inside and see if the other guys have turned up any clues."

When we walked back into the exhibit hall we found Thor, Bogdon, Freddie and Shad. Unfortunately, they were not alone. Freddie's Mom, Ms. Dunkleberger, was in the hall along with two other people.

Ms. Dunkleberger was standing there, telling Edmond Carpmouth III whatever you tell someone when their priceless death mask is stolen out of your museum. While she spoke, I took the opportunity to examine the newcomers.

Mr. Carpmouth was a small man with short graying hair. He sported a light grey striped Italian suit. But, he was not actually wearing the suit jacket. He just draped it over his shoulders. On his head was a tan fedora hat that made him look like some kind of mobster.

If the hat was not bad enough, he also had a colorful striped silk scarf–tie thing wrapped around his neck and he wore an expensive pair of highly polished maroon ankle boots. Though we were inside and the lights were low in the exhibit room, he also sported a pricy pair of designer sunglasses. Even with a strong cleft jaw, his face still had a feminine quality. With all these accessories, he reminded me of some strange sissy bank robber.

Next to the Mr. Carpmouth was a much taller man wearing a stark black suit with a starched white shirt and thin black tie. He had black wingtip shoes and his hair was cropped short into a razor-edged flat top. His face was nondescript and could have belonged to someone's dad. But, from his pocket dangled a picture ID that said FBI.

"More children?" huffed Mr. Carpmouth in an annoyed tone that emphasized his slight lisp. "What are all these children doing running around the museum? Did you invite a cub scout troop in to look for my mask?"

Freddie's Mom replied, "It's just my son and a few of his friends, Mr. Carpmouth. I'm sure they were just passing through on their way to the science lab. They won't be an impediment to the investigation."

"Well they looked like they were snooping to me," Mr. Carpmouth countered. "They had better not contaminate this crime scene or Agent Sykes may have to arrest the little rug rats for interfering."

The FBI man took this opportunity to give us all a big smile and interject himself into the conversation. "Don't fret Mr. Carpmouth. From my preliminary examination of the scene I am sure that nothing has been contaminated."

He pulled out a badge and handed it over to us.

"I'm agent Alan Sykes of the Federal Bureau of Investigation. Do you mind if I ask you fellas a few questions."

We each scanned the badge and passed it over to the next Ranger. Shad gave it extra long scrutiny before he handed it back.

"What do you want to know?" asked Charlie.

"Well, for starters, have you fellas seen anyone suspicious around the museum?"

"Nope," we said.

"Have you seen any unusual new people around town?"

"Nope," we said.

"Have you noticed anything unusual or noteworthy here in the museum today?"

"Nope," we said.

Realizing he had hit a dead end, Agent Sykes took a card out of his coat pocket and handed it to Charlie. "Well, if you remember anything or come across anything unusual, please call me at this number."

"You fellas can go," he said. "Just don't wander into the exhibit hall without asking first."

"Thanks Agent Sykes," said Freddie. "Good luck with your investigation."

He turned to his Mom, "We're going down to the hands-on science lab if you need us."

Together we exited the room. Behind us I heard Mr. Carpmouth complaining, "I still don't know what all these children are doing here."

I wanted to turn around and point out the obvious answer, that we are in a Children's Museum! But I don't think that would have made him any happier.

On the way down to the science lab, we stopped by the security kiosk, where we started a conversation with old Mr. Johnson, the Museum's security guard. But, within a couple of seconds he was summed by Agent Sykes and left for the exhibit hall.

"Quick!" said Toby. "While he's gone – play the security tape of the main hall."

Freddie, who can work everything in the museum, stepped into the kiosk and sat down behind the console. With a few flips of some switches he had the correct tape rewinding. In under a minute, the tape was playing on one of the security televisions beside the chair. He hit fast forward button and we watched the scene in front of us hurry by.

The image quality was not great but we could see enough. The show started out with just the mask in the display case all alone. Shortly, Ms. D walked into the area with Mr. Carpmouth. Of course there was no sound, but we watched the silent picture and saw Mr. Carpmouth making various exaggerated gestures that culminated in Ms. D pulling out a key and unlocking the case. Carefully, Mr. Carpmouth lifted up the case and gently removed the mask.

At that point in time, Freddie's Mom was apparently called away. Shortly afterwards, Mr. Carpmouth walked up to case. His back was blocking the camera so we could not see exactly what he was doing. It did appear like he was pulling out his handkerchief and wiping his eyes. When he stepped away from the case, the lock was back in place and the mask was inside.

For the next few seconds you could see Mr. Carpmouth wandering around the edges of the screen inspecting the other pieces of the collection. He moved from the sarcophagus to the mummy to the Coptic jars.

Suddenly, the lights flashed briefly and went out. When the lights came back on, the mask was gone. Mr. Carpmouth pranced over to the case, looked it over and then threw his hands open and started screaming like a girl. In fast forward the obnoxious little man was bouncing around in his agitated state looking like some silent film comedy star. After what seemed like only a few seconds, Freddie's Mom and Mr. Johnson the security guard came running in. Rushing over to the display case, Ms. Dunkleberger yanked on the padlock. IT WAS STILL LOCKED! But the mask was gone!

"We've seen enough," said Charlie. "Reset the tape and let's get down to the lab."

Freddie hit a couple more switches on the panel and set the tape back to where it was originally. Then he restarted the surveillance recording and we left.

The Rangers think of the hands-on-science lab at the Exploratorium as our very own lab. Oh sure, there are public classes and programs that are held here in the lab all the time. But, we have our own locked cabinet in the lab where we can keep all sorts of scientific supplies and gadgets. Freddie's Mom allows us free range, primarily because the club bought almost all the hardware in the place and she realizes that we know to use it properly and we will take care of it. The microscopes, the centrifuge, the autoclave and a sweet little compact mass spectrometer resting on the counter were all gifts from the Rangers. Of course we tell Ms. Dunkleberger that they are 'from my Grandfather.'

This afternoon, we filed into the lab and circled the chairs and sat down. Toby had stepped up and taken charge of the investigation earlier. He continued in that capacity for the time being.

"Okay, let's go over what we have," Said Toby. "Jeep, Charlie and I swept the building and the grounds and came up clean. Jeep was not able to get a good reading in the exhibit hall because of laser interference."

"We all saw the tape. The mask was there. Mr. Carpmouth picked it up and put it back. The case was locked. The lights went out. The lights came back on. The mask was gone. But, the case was still locked."

"So, the mystery is not just who took the mask. But also, how did they get it out without unlocking the case."

"Thor, Shad, Freddie and Bogdon. Did you guys find any clues in the exhibit while we were gone?"

Freddie spoke up as he began digging into his backpack. "We did find several different particles on the floor of the exhibit. Since the floors were cleaned on Friday evening, we can be sure that these pieces were deposited sometime today."

Freddie pulled four sealed plastic bags out of his backpack. Inside each bag was a single small piece or fragment of material. They did not look like much but we needed to test them thoroughly to determine if they were material to this case.

"What do we know?" asked Toby.

Charlie answered, "We saw the mask in the case. We know Mr. Carpmouth removed the mask and then put it back. The mask appears to have been removed without the case ever being opened."

Toby turned to Thor, "Did you find any way to get into the box while it was padlocked?"

"No," replied Thor. "That box is solid. It has a metal internal frame with a laminated wood cover. The glass is sandwiched in steal and there is a silicon sealant. The box is not only solid – it's probably airtight as well."

"Well, where did the mask go to?" asked Toby. "It's got to be somewhere."

"Maybe it was vaporized," Shad suggested. "You could shoot a high energy plasma ray right through the glass and that would be the last anyone saw of Harmon's death mask."

Bogdon offered his opinion on Shad's theory.

"That is theoretically possible. But, vaporizing a heavy metal object the size of the death mask would require an enormous amount of energy and some pretty sophisticated equipment. Plus, while you were vaporizing the mask, you would probably vaporize the box as well."

"Could the mask still be in the case?" I asked. "Maybe some sort of mirror was lowered over it and the mask only appears to be gone. Or, maybe the mask was never put back into the case. Maybe the video tape has been altered."

"There's no mirror in the case," Thor replied. "I borrowed Bogdon's key chain laser pointer and fired it through the case in order to check that possibility. The Beam passed through unimpeded from different directions. The laser would have shown us if there were mirrors in the box."

Bogdon add, "two security cameras and one of the laser detectors seemed to be turned off. They are plugged in and hooked up. But, they are not functioning. They may have been deliberately disabled as part of a plan to mislead observers."

"We need to examine that equipment," said Toby. "I can't help but feel that it's part of this mystery."

"For now does anyone have any other theories? Anybody?" asked Toby. But no one else had anything to add.

"In that case, we need to get on with the forensic testing."

Toby put us all to work in the lab.

***************

"First we need detailed microscopic pictures of each sample of material. Bog, you set up the stereoscopic microscope and Jeep you get the digital camera. I will break small pieces off of our samples. Then Shad and Freddie will do wash tests using barium nitrate and silver nitrate. Charlie will do flame tests and of course Thor will handle the mass spectrometer."

It did not take us long to get down to some serious crime science. Sample by sample, Toby removed the material from the bag. Bogdon and I ran it under the microscope at various power levels using regular and ultraviolet light. We recorded the whole process, making detailed pictures of each piece. Then, Toby used an exacto knife to break off small parts from each sample. He gave one piece of each sample to Shad and Freddie, and one piece of each sample to Charlie and to Thor.

Shad and Freddie poured distilled water into eight clean test tubes until the water was about 1 cm deep. They used a mortar and pestle to carefully ground their samples one at a time into powder. The powder from each sample was divided into two parts. One part was mixed in a test tube with a couple of drops of Barium Nitrate. The second part was mixed in another test tube along with a few drops of Silver Nitrate. Soon, they had eight test tubes on the table, two for each sample. If the Barium Nitrate solution got cloudy, it was a positive test for Chorine ions. If the Silver Nitrate solution got cloudy, it was a positive test for Sulfur ions. Shad and Freddie charted their results and then cleaned up.

Charlie also ground up his samples into powder. Then Charlie put on his goggles and set up four watch glasses with a few cc's of hydrochloric acid and mixed one sample into each. He got out a Bunsen burner and placed it on the heat proof surface and lit it. Then he got out four burn sticks with nichrome wire on one end and a ceramic handle on the other end that will not transfer heat. Still wearing his safety goggles, Charlie picked up a burn stick and dipped the end of the wire into one solution and held it in the flame. He repeated this procedure three more times so that each sample was tested. Different elements flame different colors. Charlie used the digital camera to record the flame colors and then turned off the Bunsen burner and let everything cool down before he put it away.

While all this was going on, Thor was working with the Mass Spectrometer.

We sometimes give Thor a hard time about being a dumb jock, even though we know it's not true. But, nowhere is his scientific ability more recognizable than when he uses the Mass Spectrometer. He plays the delicate scientific instrument like it's a fine violin. Neither Bogdon nor Toby nor Charlie can work the mass spec like Thor does. He just seems to have a way with it.

A mass spec basically vaporizes a sample and then launches the ions into a test chamber. When a magnetic field is applied to the chamber the ions are deflected onto a detector. Lighter ions are deflected farther than heavy ions. The pattern that the ions make on the detector can be used to determine the exact chemical composition of the original sample. The mass spec we have in the lab is an inexpensive one and can be temperamental. But, it always seems to behave for Thor.

The machine is interfaced with a Dell computer using Windows software. The software can match the detector pattern with a bunch of patterns kept on the hard disk. When a match is identified, we know exactly what the sample is made of.

It took about an hour for us to finish the battery of tests and clean up after ourselves. Then Toby called us all back together. He stood at the white board to write down the results reported by each group of testers.

"Microscope?" Toby asked. "What were your results?"

I answered for Bogdon and myself. "The first three samples were fibers coated with a dry white powder. The powder glowed under the black light. Sample four appeared to be a smooth, gold colored, solid material that reflected light like a metal."

Toby wrote some stuff on the board and then turned to Charlie.

"Flame test? What did you observe?"

Charlie reported, "Samples one, two and three flamed red – indicating calcium. Sample four flamed green – indicating copper."

Toby recorded the flame test results. Then he moved on to Shad and Freddie.

"Wash Tests?"

Freddie answered for the first test.

"Samples one through three were cloudy with Barium Nitrate. Sample four was clear. This indicates that one, two and three contain chlorine"

Shad spoke next.

"Samples one through three were clear with the Silver Nitrate. Sample four was cloudy. This indicates that sample four contains sulfur."

Toby stood back from the board and reviewed our work.

"It appears on the surface that samples one, two and three are chemically identical. The samples all contain a calcium and chloride mixture on top of fibers. Sample four is distinctly different. It has a metallic sheen and is contains copper and sulfate. I think I know where this is heading – but let's check on the final tests."

Toby turned to Thor.

"What does the Mass Spec say, Thor. Did you get a match?"

Thor was holding a clip board containing several graphs he had printed out from the computer. They plotted the ion deflection of the samples. He flipped through them and looked up.

"Samples one and two are identical. They matched the library exactly and came up as 'Paper Mache'. There was no exact match for sample four. But it is certainly a water based polymer with a copper sulfate tinting formula. If I had to guess I would say it's gold colored paint."

Charlie jumped in. "Gold paint and Paper Mache? Sound like someone made a fake gold death mask to me!"

"I think you may be right," said Toby. "But what about sample three? Wasn't it Paper Mache also?"

Thor flipped through his papers and found the graph for sample three.

"Well, it has Paper Mache in it," he said. "But there's something else there too."

"Paint?" asked Toby.

"No," said Thor. "Blood."

Shad jumped up from his seat.

"Quick," he cried out. "Get the Luminol! Get the black light! We have ourselves a murder!"

Armed with a squirt bottle of fresh Luminol (2 ounces of distilled water to 1 Luminol tablet – mix well) and our bagged evidence, the Rangers trooped back into the exhibit hall. We found Agent Sykes, Mr. Carpmouth and Freddie's Mom with a TV monitor and a VCR. They were reviewing the security tape of the death mask that we have gone over earlier.

Agent Sykes was speaking and the mood was somber. Mr. Carpmouth had a blue silk handkerchief in his hand and I got the impression that he may have been crying into it!

"Ms. Dunkleberger, Mr. Carpmouth... Clearly the mask was stolen by a master thief. He managed to remove it without leaving any clues to his identity or his methods. I am sure that by now the mask has been whisked off to a secondary location. Probably, it will be out of the country by evening. I'm sorry – but there isn't much that the Bureau can do to locate the object."

The agent continued, "I will, however, take the security cameras, the laser sensor equipment and the video tape into custody. I will transport them on to the FBI crime lab in Washington, DC. Perhaps the forensic scientists there can come up with a theory of how the thief managed to remove the mask from the locked case."

"Excuse us, Agent Sykes," interrupted Charlie. "But, before you give up on this crime scene, I wonder if you would allow us to present a few of our observations."

Of course, Mr. Carpmouth replied even though we weren't addressing him. He waved his handkerchief, dismissing us in a prissy manner.

"Those bratty kids again? Ms. Dunkleberger, you have lost my priceless death mask. I don't believe that I should be subjected to a horde of meddlesome gutter snipes as well. Children should be seen and not heard. And were it up to me, they would only be seen rarely."

Freddie's Mom said, "Boys, this may not be the appropriate time and place."

But, Agent Sykes was more receptive. "No, Ms. Dunkleberger. If the boys have a theory about the crime, I would like to hear it."

He looked back at Charlie. "Go ahead, son."

"Well, Sir," said Charlie. "I think we would agree with your assessment that the mask is not here in the museum. But, we would go a little further and propose that the mask may never have been in the museum."

"Why that is preposterous," yelped Mr. Carpmouth. "I brought the mask here myself."

"Indeed, Sir. You did bring 'a mask' but we don't believe it was 'the mask'."

"I'm afraid you are going to have to explain boys," said Agent Sykes.

"Simply put," said Charlie. "The mask in the case was a forgery. It was made of Paper Mache and gold paint."

"That is certainly an interesting theory," said Agent Sykes. "Do you have any evidence to support it?"

Toby pulled the bagged samples out of his backpack. He handed them to Charlie who gave them over to Agent Sykes saying.

"We found these four samples in the exhibit hall this afternoon. Three of the bags contain Paper Mache scraps and one bag has gold paint flake."

The FBI man held the bags up to the light and he examined the contents with his practiced eye.

"That is great sleuthing boys. I will certainly forward these samples to the FBI crime lab as well. This could mean that someone switched the mask between the time period that Mr. Carpmouth delivered it to the museum and the time period covered on the surveillance tapes."

He put the bags into his coat pocket.

"Now, if there is not anything else, I better get moving. I will be leaving for Washington immediately. I want to deliver samples in person."

"Well, actually," said Charlie. "One of the Paper Mache samples also contained blood. We believe that may the key to determining where the mask that was on display has gone to."

Ms. Dunkleberger asked, "Do you mean you think the thief left his blood on the sample?"

"No Mam", said Charlie. "We believe that the blood indicates that the mask is still in the exhibit hall."

Charlie turned to the Rangers. "Shad. Freddie. Do your stuff."

Before the confused adults could react, Shad hurried over to the Coptic jars and began spraying them down with Luminol. Freddie followed behind. When Bogdon turned down the overhead lights to the exhibit - Freddie flicked on the portable UV light he was carrying. It revealed what appeared to be a glowing handprint on the alabaster lid of the first jar.

"What's the meaning of this little production?" inquired a very distressed Mr. Carpmouth. "Agent Sykes must get those samples to Washington, if I have any hope of retrieving my mask. Every second we waste with these children we are that much closer to the mask being lost forever."

"If you will bear with us just a hair longer, Sir," said Charlie. "I believe can wrap this right up."

Charlie pulled a pair of latex gloves from his pocket, as he walked over to the jar. With a flourish, he snapped his gloves on. (Charlie really enjoys putting on a show.)

Grabbing the lid to the glowing jar in his left hand, Charlie announced, "If we are correct, what is left of the fake mask should be inside this jar."

Charlie reached into the jar with his right hand and pulled out a shiny gold colored blob. He replaced the lid and using both hands; he unfolded the crushed up Paper Mache and held it up to the audience. It was a mashed up copy of Amon Re's death mask. As if on cue, the assembled adults gasped.

Charlie continued, "on the security tape, Mr. Carpmouth took the mask from the display case. With his back to the camera, he crushed the mask and put it under his coat. Then he walked over to the Coptic jars and stashed the fake mask inside one. The dried blood from the mummy's organs got on his hands. He made the handprint!"

"You have no proof I did any such thing, you meddlesome little twerp," shouted Mr. Carpmouth. "Besides, the tape clearly shows the mask was back in the case after I picked it up."

"That was a nice touch," said Charlie. "You had us stumped for a while. It certainly did appear like the mask had been returned to the case. But, as Sherlock Holmes was often heard to say, 'appearances can be deceiving.'"

"Jeep, turn on the equipment."

I pulled a remote control out of my pocket and walked over to the display case. I turned and faced the security camera on the right and hit the button. It immediately snapped on and the little red LED in front came on as confirmation.

I turned to my left and hit the button again. The camera on that side came on and its red light blinked on as well.

Finally, I turned to the laser sensor behind the case. Hitting another button on the remote caused this piece to turn start operating. It gave off a red light as confirmation, but we did not need it. Ms. Dunkleberger's exclamation pretty much validated the laser was on.

"The Mask!" She exclaimed. "It's back!"

Sure enough, through the glass of the display case we could see the death mask of Amon Re.

"It looks like the mask," said Bogdon. "But actually it's just an optical image transmitted by the combination of lasers behind the case."

"You mean like a hologram?" asked Freddie's Mom.

"Well not a hologram as such. It more like a volumetric display. It's a visual representation of the mask in three physical dimensions while a hologram is really a planar image that simulates depth through visual effects."

We had no idea what Bogdon had just said. But, we accepted that he was probably right.

"Mr. Carpmouth," said Agent Sykes. "I believe you need come with me."

Mr. Carpmouth sputtered and flicked his silk handkerchief but there was nothing that he could say.

"Agent Sykes," said Charlie. "We did take the liberty of calling the sheriff's office. I believe that is Sheriff Killdeer and his deputies are entering the museum right now."

"If you want," said Shad. "You could leave Mr. Carpmouth to the Sheriff. After all, I believe the State has jurisdiction in a robbery or a fraud conspiracy like this."

"That's ordinarily true," said the FBI man. "But, since this mask was being returned to the Egyptian government, I believe the FBI will handle this matter. I will be taking Mr. Carpmouth back to Washington, DC with me."

"That's interesting," said Freddie. "Especially since the FBI headquarters are not in Washington, DC. They are in Quantico Virginia."

"You know what else is interesting?" said Shad. "Agent Sykes's identification says he is an FBI 'Agent'."

"But, I am an FBI Agent," Agent Sykes replied defensively.

"But, the FBI does not have any 'Agents' in the field," Shad said triumphantly. "All FBI field agents are 'Special Agents'. You, sir, are as big a phony as that Paper Mache mask!"

******************

Sheriff Killdeer and his deputies did end up taking both Mr. Carpmouth and the fake Agent Sykes into custody. And, the Sheriff impounded all the evidence that the pretend FBI man was planning to abscond with. As the two suspects out being hauled out of the museum, Mr. Carpmouth was whining for his lawyer. Agent Sykes was shouting that the robbery was all Mr. Carpmouth's idea and he wanted to make a deal.

******************

It was not long before the authorities were gone and we were left alone in the museum, just the Rangers and Freddie's Mom. The exhibit seemed incredibly quiet and empty.

"So, the mask never even made it to the museum?" asked a despondent Ms. Dunkleberger.

"No Mom. It was never here," replied Freddie softly.

"Well there goes my exhibit," said Ms. D and she flopped down dejectedly on the bench at the front of the hall. Freddie sat down and put his arm around his Mother.

As Mother and Son sat in silence, I reached back into my pocket and pulled out the remote control again. Walking around the room I pointed it at the different laser sensors and one by one I turned them all off. And finally, the humming stopped.

I closed my eyes and listened.

"I thought so," I said to myself.

I walked over to the bench where Freddie sat comforting his Mother. The disappointment and grief of almost getting another chance at a major league exhibit weighed heavy on her face. She had sacrificed so much for her son and seeing her hopes dashed was a bitter pill to swallow.

"Freddie?" I asked. "Can your Mom keep a secret?"

Freddie looked up and nodded yes. He was still too depressed say anything – but I could see a little curiosity in his eyes.

"Mrs. D., I sort of inherited this gift from my Grandfathers," I began.

It took a few minutes for Ms. Dunkleberger to understand what I was telling her. And, having devoted her life to hard science, she was disinclined to believe that I really was a locator or that locators even existed.

In fact, she had reached the "Sweetheart, we all like to pretend we have special powers" point, when I walked over to the shelf and picked up Coptic jar number two. Ms. D was stunned as I flipped open my pocket knife and began prying off the false bottom.

It was probably the first time in fifty centuries that the bottom had been removed. Egyptian sand spilled out on the polished tile floor of the museum like the proverbial sands of time. And, here and there amid the grains there was the sparkle of gold and the flash of emeralds and sapphires. The crown jewels of Amon Re were just as amazing today as when they had been hidden during the third dynasty of the old kingdom.

"They were probably packed in sand so their rattle would not give them away," I concluded.

Ms. D's disappointment gave way to shock and then to amazement. She walked over and knelt down beside the sand and treasure. Carefully, she picked up a jewel encrusted scarab beetle finished in solid gold. She blew off the remaining grains of sand and held it up to the light for a closer examination.

"Five thousand years..." she stammered. "And, no one ever suspected a thing until Jeep 'heard them calling'? It's incredible. It's amazing. It's beyond comprehension."

For a minute we just stood admiring one of the great treasures of the ancient world as relief washed over us. Now, the exhibition could go on as planned. And, Egyptologists the world over would be rushing to Granite Falls to investigate this spectacular new find. This exhibit would be bigger than anything Ms. D had ever handled at the Field Museum!

Freddie was a little giddy as he put his arms around his Mother's neck and gave her a great big hug.

"Well Mom," he said smiling from ear to ear, "thanks to Amen Re and the Rangers, you have something to put into that display case after all!"

************

### About the Author:

Matt Musson was born in Austin, TX and grew up in San Antonio. He earned two degrees at the University of Texas and moved east to work for Ross Perot as a Systems Analyst. He has developed computer systems for Planters Peanuts, LifeSavers Candies, Sara Lee and Bank of America.

Matt is currently in North Carolina developing banking software and working part-time for the Charlotte Bobcats and Charlotte Checkers. He has four incredible children: Skye, McClain, Granath and Chandler. And, he collects vintage rodeo belt buckles and Indian jewelry when he is not prospecting for Carolina gold and emeralds.

He is a contributing author to the non-fiction anthology Sports in the Carolinas: From Death Valley to Tobacco Road. He has two baseball novels available online: The '51 Rocks and Batboy on the Worst Team Ever. Other Jeep Muldoon adventures include The Mystery of Merlin's Magic and WhaleQuest!

