The Virginia Mysteries Collection: Books 1-3

by Steven K. Smith

He turned to the security guard. “Jim, these two are some of my best junior investigators. They uncovered a magnificent collection of 1877 Indian Head cents last summer. It had been stolen from the museum back when I was a boy.”

  He turned to Caitlin. “But I have not met your friend.”

  Sam spoke up. “This is Caitlin. She’s our research specialist!”

  Caitlin looked over at him and smiled.

  Dr. Evanshade shook Caitlin’s hand. “A pleasure to meet you, young lady. I’m a big fan of your friends here.”

  “What are you doing here, Professor?” asked Derek.

  “Oh, I work with the folks at Colonial Williamsburg from time to time when they need help authenticating an item. Jim here actually used to work security at my museum.” He gestured to the security guard.

  “Well, enough of this chit-chat. Let’s get a look at your crate there!”

  The professor lifted the crate onto the table. He opened a bag of equipment he’d brought with him, laying out several tools.

  Sam thought Dr. Evanshade looked like a surgeon about to operate. Or maybe a car mechanic.

  The professor selected a tool that looked like a small crowbar. Then he slowly loosened the side boards of the crate, one at a time.

  “It’s critical that we work carefully and methodically, children,” he explained. “When something has been in the ground as long as this may have been, we never know what will crack or simply disintegrate when touched.”

  When both ends of the crate were removed, he gently lifted the top board. Everyone inched a step closer, leaning in toward the table. Sam turned around and noticed that even Mom and Dad were holding their breath.

  Beneath the board was what seemed to be a cloth material. “Linen,” explained the professor. “Quite common for storage in that period.”

  He pulled on a pair of latex gloves and tilted the light above the table slightly downward. He lifted the roll of fabric from the bottom of the crate. Slowly he began to turn it over and over, unrolling something inside. After a few more turns, the last stretch of linen pulled away.

  Two thick sections of glass about the size of a newspaper page were what remained, held together with small clamps. It reminded Sam of the way that the solar microscope fitted onto the shutter in George Wythe’s study.

  Professor Evanshade carefully wiped the glass with a cloth. Then he set the glass sections onto the table for inspection. A yellowed sheet of paper was inside. The glass must have been pressed tight to preserve the paper from crumbling apart.

  Dr. Evanshade selected a large magnifying glass with an extra light from his bag and leaned over the table. His head moved slowly from one side to the other. “Hmmm,” he mumbled to himself. “Interesting.”

  “Well, is it the Declaration or what?” shouted Derek, unable to contain his curiosity any longer.

  “Derek!” scolded Mom. “Wait until he’s done. I’m sure he’ll let us know.”

  Professor Evanshade stood up straight and lowered his magnifying glass. He turned around to the group and smiled. Even Jerry, standing with the police officer, looked filled with anticipation.

  “Ladies and gentlemen,” the professor began. “While we will certainly need to take this back to my laboratory at the museum for further testing, it appears to me that you have discovered an authentic document from the period of Thomas Jefferson in the late eighteenth century.

  “From my quick read, the writing does look to be similar to the original Declaration of Independence. I suspect it is an early draft. There were several such copies generated for the different colonies to read back in 1776. However, only a few remain today, so this would be extremely rare. ”

  “All right!” shouted Derek.

  “Sweet!” yelled Sam, as he high-fived his brother.

  Caitlin let out a high-pitched shriek and gave Sam a hug.

  Mom and Dad came over and put their hands on the boys’ shoulders. “We’re going to have another long talk about this when we get home, boys,” said Dad.

  Sam knew that his parents were angry at the way he and Derek had handled things, but he could tell they were impressed with their discovery. It’s not every day that an important piece of American history is found buried in a flowerbed.

  “Oh, I nearly forgot!” exclaimed Sam, reaching into his backpack. “Here’s the letter Thomas Jefferson wrote to George Wythe.”

  The professor looked it over. “Oh my golly, boys!”

  Sam turned and pointed at Jerry who was leaning glumly against the wall. “And he has the key to the solar microscope that we used to find the spot in the garden.”

  Jerry reluctantly pulled the slide key out of his jacket and handed it over to the officer.

  Sam walked up to Jerry. “There’s one thing I still don’t understand. How did you know that there was something hidden in St. John’s Church? Did you have a map?”

  Jerry’s face grew red. “Why should I tell you? You have no idea how hard it was to find these documents!”

  The police officer looked Jerry in the eye. “Millburn, I let you stay and watch them open the crate so you might be able to share something useful. I suggest you start talking or this is going to go even worse for you later. I promise you that!”

  Sam grinned. He liked seeing Jerry get what was coming to him. He was a ne’er-do-well!

  “Five years! That’s how long I’d been hunting for this treasure,” Jerry wailed. “I was in Tennessee for a reenactment and explored some old buildings that were about to go to auction. An old book from one of the lots caught my eye. It had the name George Sweeney written inside the cover. I bought it and started reading. Sure enough, it was the journal of George Wythe’s grand-nephew.

  “Sweeney had been only seventeen when Wythe was murdered. After he was acquitted in court, he just disappeared. By all historical accounts, no one knew where he’d gone.”

  “Tennessee!” shouted Derek.

  Jerry glared at Derek but continued his story. “After Wythe’s death, Jefferson’s letter had arrived at the Wythe House. Sweeney stole it after the trial, intending to go back and retrieve the crate from its hiding spot in the garden.

  “But time passed. As he grew old, he realized what a great man his uncle had been. In his regret, Sweeney decided to leave the Declaration copy in its place. So he returned to Richmond and hid the letter he’d stolen under the church. I think he decided that if someone found it after he died, no one could give him any more trouble.

  “But how did you know something was under the church?” asked Sam.

  Jerry sighed. “He left a series of clues in his journal and around his home in Tennessee that pointed to Church Hill. I finally found the last of them next to Wythe’s grave at St. John’s. That’s when you meddling kids entered the picture and stole the letter before I was able to find it.” He slumped his shoulders down and lowered his head, fully defeated now that he’d exposed his story.

  “Wow,” whistled Derek.

  “That’s quite a story,” said Professor Evanshade. “Thank you for the explanation. It will be quite helpful in our research.”

  “But why didn’t you just tell someone?” asked Caitlin. “Then you could have found the Declaration and not have almost killed us and gone to jail?”

  “I think a lot of people should have told someone more than they did,” Dad chimed in.

  Jerry raised his head and stared at Caitlin with disgust. “Do you have any idea how much that document is worth on the black market?

  “Fifty bucks?” asked Derek.

  “Actually, this document could be virtually priceless,” said Professor Evanshade.

  “And it should have been mine!” Jerry exclaimed.

  “It belongs in a museum,” shouted Caitlin. “Not in your greedy clutches. You’re supposed to be a historian, Mr. Patrick Henry. You should be ashamed of yourself.”

  “Nah,” added Sam. “He’s not a historian – just an actor.”

  “Well the show’s over, Jerry!” shouted De
rek. Everyone laughed, except for Jerry, who just glared at them.

  SEVENTEEN

  The Surprise

  “Beep! Beep! Beep!” The alarm clock rang out across the room.

  “Sam! Turn it off,” groaned Derek, barely lifting his head from the pillow.

  “Too tired,” said Sam, not wanting to move either.

  It had been a long weekend. The boys had used up so much energy with the excitement in Williamsburg, they both wanted to sleep for a week. But Monday was here. School didn’t care if they’d spent their weekend hunting for treasure from the American Revolution or playing video games on the couch.

  After studying the early Declaration with Professor Evanshade back in Williamsburg, Mom and Dad had invited Caitlin and her parents over to Aunt Karen’s for a late dinner. Everyone was still buzzing with enthusiasm from the events at the Wythe House.

  Amidst the excitement, all three of the kids gave major apologies to their parents for being so deceptive. Dad was disappointed that they hadn’t told him what was going on, especially after what had happened in the woods over the summer.

  That time, Derek almost bit the dust when he was trapped in the cave with the lost coins. This time, they nearly had to spend the night locked in the basement of the Wythe House. Who knows what could have happened to them if Jerry had caught them again in the gardens?

  Sam also agreed that he should have told Mrs. H as well as Mom and Dad about Jerry grabbing him at St. John’s Church in the first place.

  Sam turned off the alarm and sat up in his bed. He thought some more about what they’d found. It was incredible to know that the crate had been buried behind the house for all those years. It gave him the chills to think that Thomas Jefferson had written the words on that old paper. He felt a tiny bit bad that Jerry had worked so hard to find the clues that led him to St. John’s Church, only to have the prize taken away.

  Sam knew what it felt like to be hot on the trail of a mystery. It was easy to get carried away. But Jerry crossed the line. He wasn’t trying to find a piece of history for good. He just wanted it for himself. Sam knew that Professor Evanshade would make sure the Declaration would be treasured. Maybe it would be displayed in Washington, D.C. near the Declaration’s final version.

  ***

  Soon, the boys were stepping off the school bus and heading toward their classrooms.

  “Hey!” a voice called as someone bumped into Sam in the hallway. He turned and saw Caitlin next to him. He smiled and was surprised to feel happy to see her.

  “Hey to you,” he answered. “I can’t believe we’re back at school.”

  “I know! It’s going to seem so boring after everything in Williamsburg.”

  Wait, Caitlin thought school was going to be boring? Sam didn’t remember ever hearing her say that before. Usually she just acted like she knew everything and rubbed it in his face.

  He had to admit, it had been fun having her along on the adventure. And it didn’t hurt that she was so smart. It actually came in handy for a change! Maybe being friends with a girl wasn’t so bad after all.

  “What do you think is going to happen to Jerry?” asked Caitlin. “Do you think he’s going to jail?”

  “I don’t know. Technically he didn’t really steal anything, even though he tried to.” Sam thought about what laws Jerry might have actually broken. “But he did grab me at the church. Then he kidnapped us and locked us in the basement.”

  “Right. Plus he resisted arrest when he tried to run away from the police officer,” added Caitlin. “I’ll bet that he won’t be playing Patrick Henry at St. John’s Church or in Colonial Williamsburg anymore.”

  “Maybe they have reenactments in prison!” suggested Sam.

  Caitlin laughed. It was a genuine laugh, not just a pretend one.

  “Sam?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Thank you for including me in your mystery. It was really fun.”

  “Well, you kind of invited yourself to Williamsburg,” Sam replied.

  Caitlin looked down. Sam wondered if he had embarrassed her. He thought about what she said and realized that she was actually trying to be nice to him.

  He looked back at her. “I’m just kidding. It was fun to have you along. You were a big help.”

  “Really?” she beamed.

  “Absolutely. Derek and I would have never known all that stuff about Sweeney or George Wythe without your research.”

  It was true. He never would have imagined it, but they made a good team.

  “Friends?” she asked, holding her hand up. Did girls give high-fives? Apparently so. He slapped her open palm and grinned as they headed into their classroom.

  Sam sat down in his seat and pulled out his notebook.

  Billy Maxwell hustled through the doorway and looked up at the clock. “Yes! I’m early!” he shouted. He sank down on one knee and gave three big fist pumps.

  He stood up, looked over at Sam, and nodded. “So Jackson, did you ever figure anything else out about those letters? Did you track down the Sharpie?”

  Sam laughed. Some things hadn’t changed a bit. “Actually, yes, Billy. It was a busy weekend. I’ll tell you about it at recess.”

  After the pledge and announcements, Mrs. H stood up at the front of the room and got everyone’s attention. “Our next chapter in our history unit, children, will be about the Civil War. But before we leave the American Revolution behind, who would like to share some of what they remember? It can be from our reading, the field trip, or something else that you learned on your own.”

  Caitlin’s hand shot up with her typical sense of urgency. Hmm, thought Sam, maybe things hadn’t changed as much as he thought. What was the expression Dad always used? “It’s hard to teach an old dog new tricks”? Well, it had been fun while it lasted.

  “Yes, Caitlin. What was most memorable for you?” said Mrs. H.

  Sam braced himself for her inevitable showoff.

  “Actually Mrs. H, I wanted to say that Sam had the most amazing adventure after our field trip. I’d really love for him to tell us all about it!”

  Sam did a double-take, practically falling out of his chair. What had she just said?

  Caitlin smiled and nodded to him, but he just sat there dumbfounded.

  “Is that right?” Mrs. H said, more than a little surprised herself. “Well, Sam, why don’t you tell us about it? It sounds exciting.”

  “Go Jackson! Go Jackson!” sang Billy from behind him.

  “Well,” gulped Sam, pulling his thoughts together. “It all started on our field trip when I really had to pee…”

  The class burst out laughing.

  Caitlin giggled and punched him in the shoulder. She gave him a serious smile and mouthed “Stop it!”

  Sam turned around and saw that every eye was on him. He gathered his courage, picturing what Derek would say in a situation like this. Probably something outrageous. Hmm, maybe that wasn’t such a good idea.

  “Actually, Caitlin was a big part of things, too. And my brother Derek. It was kind of like Patrick Henry said.”

  “What do you mean, Sam?” asked Mrs. H.

  “Well, for a while, we thought we were going to find death. But in the end, we found liberty.”

  He turned to Caitlin and motioned for her to tell the rest of the story. She was better at these kinds of things than he was anyhow.

  “Are you sure?” she whispered.

  Sam nodded.

  Caitlin smiled. She sprang from her desk and marched to the front room.

  Sam could tell this was going to take a while. But for once, he didn’t mind.

  Acknowledgements

  This is the page where I get to rattle off the names of all the people who made this book possible. Probably not of great interest to most readers, but it’s important to me and really did help make the book a reality. Since you’re at the end, hopefully you enjoyed it. So here we go.

  My family has been ever patient and supportive as I launched into a writi
ng career without warning. My wife, Mary, and sons, Matthew, Josh, and Aaron, have endured many hours of Dad being holed up in his office working on “the book.” The boys unknowingly provide a constant supply of material through their daily banter that helps bring Sam and Derek alive on the page.

  Thank you also to all my family and friends who have lent support and time in the process, especially Robin, Ryan, Libby, Ali, Julie, Jenni, James River Writers and Bettie Weaver Elementary. Melissa Rose once again did an awesome job on the interior and cover illustrations. Thanks to Janie Lector for her polish.

  Finally, thank you to my readers, young and old, who have shared their joy and kind words over the last few months. It means more than you know.

  Did You Enjoy Mystery on Church Hill?

  I’d love for you to take a few moments and write a short honest review on Amazon and tell a friend about my books.

  Click Here to Review

  Contact the Author:

  Website: www.virginiamysteries.com

  Email: steve@myboys3.com

  Get an email whenever I release a new book and receive a free short story!

  Click Here

  Ghosts of

  Belle Isle

  BOOK THREE

  By Steven K. Smith

  Copyright © 2014 by Steven K. Smith

  MyBoys3 Press

  Editing by Kim Sheard of Another View Editing

  http://www.anotherviewediting.com/

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental. All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher.

  ISBN: 978-0-9893414-9-3

  Contact the Author:

  Website: www.virginiamysteries.com