The Case of the Missing Auntie

by Michael Hutchinson

  “You never told me about your little sister before, Grandpa.” Chickadee poured hot water over a tea bag in the cup. She put the kettle back and then placed the cup in front of her Elder.

  “I haven’t dreamed of her in a long time.” He took a sip. “But I did recently. I saw her, and she was far away but she was saying good-bye because she was going farther still.”

  Grandpa had always asked them about their dreams. Dreams could be an important source of information. He had told them they were important tools for better understanding your own heart and mind…and that sometimes dreams served as a link to different things that were greater than yourself. He had told them that back in traditional times, warriors could not hunt a bear until the bear came to them in a dream and told them it was okay.

  “Do you think something happened to her?” Chickadee’s voice held her concern.

  “It was like hearing her speak to me through a mile-long pipe, while she was walking away from the other end. Something is changing for her.” Grandpa nodded. “She is thinking of us.”

  “Why now?” Chickadee wiped the kitchen counter as she spoke.

  “I don’t know, little one. I don’t know.”

  ó

  “We have to make Auntie Charlotte our number one case.” Chickadee planted her feet in the middle of the mall hallway.

  “What?” Atim looked at her quizzically as all the boys turned.

  “You guys have to promise me we’ll look for our missing auntie. You have to promise me we’ll look for Charlotte.”

  The boys knew Chickadee well enough to know when she was drawing a line. There wasn’t much point in fighting about it. Sam and Otter shrugged and looked at Atim.

  “Fine. I promise!” Atim sighed and stared at the ceiling.

  “I’m cool with it,” Sam assured Chickadee.

  Otter smiled and nodded.

  “But we’re going to spend today getting someone to help us with those tickets.” Atim was also adamant.

  The boys looked at Chickadee. She couldn’t hold her serious face for long with her cousins looking at her so expectantly.

  “Anything for my boys!” Chickadee’s smile beamed out from her freckled cheeks.

  “We’re supposed to meet Brett at the food court again.” Atim looked at the text message on his borrowed phone. He started walking into the mall, and the remaining Muskrats followed.

  Chickadee found herself thinking of Brett. He had always been able to make her feel better when they were friends back on the rez. He looked a lot different now with his city clothes, but she was sure he was the same guy on the inside.

  Chickadee studied the stores as they made their way through the crowded hallways. So much stuff. She wondered if it all sold. What happens to the stuff no one wants? Her thoughts were interrupted as they got to the food court. Samuel pointed out an empty table that could fit four.

  “Okay. I’ll meet you there. I’m getting something to eat.” Atim flicked his hair out of his eyes and took off. The others made their way to the table and sat down. One by one they got their own food and returned.

  The Muskrats didn’t have to wait long before Brett found them.

  “So, the Wail tickets were sold out, but now we might have a new way of getting them. We just have to make a little more cash than we have,” Atim explained to their city-wise friend.

  “When I need extra cash, I take what I got and, like, I go to The Crystal Palace and play pool.” Brett looked around the group. “There’s a few people there who play pool for cash. I usually win, if I stick to playing the posers.”

  “Posers?” Otter was sorting the recyclables from the trash on his tray.

  “Like, guys who try to be something they’re not. Lots of guys at The Crystal Palace think they’re good at pool, but they ain’t.” Brett laughed.

  “And you are?” Chickadee smiled up at Brett.

  “Of course! I bet we’re all a little better than most kids in the city. They didn’t have the old pool table from Windy Lake to practice on.”

  The whole group chuckled at the thought of the ancient plywood building that housed the Windy Lake Youth Centre. The pool table was the highlight of the experience. Brett had won many of the numerous tournaments the Youth Centre planned in order to keep the young people of Windy Lake occupied.

  “But are we old enough to get into The Crystal Palace?” Sam pinched his chin. The idea of exploring a new place was intriguing to him.

  “It’s an arcade and pool hall, not a bar,” Brett said with a smirk. “Look, if you don’t want to double your money, like, that’s fine. It was just an idea.”

  “Double our money?” Atim sounded eager.

  “I figure we could double your money, depending on who is there.” Brett sounded confident.

  “A bet is always a risk,” Samuel said, wincing at the thought of losing their Ex funds and feeling that they were about to do something they shouldn’t.

  “Let’s just check it out.” Atim was willing to follow any path that could lead to tickets.

  Sam looked at Chickadee. She was certain Brett wouldn’t take them somewhere they’d get hurt. She assented with a shrug.

  Sam looked at Otter.

  “Wouldn’t hurt to check it out.” Otter was also interested in seeing something new.

  Brett was pleased. “That’s great. How much money we got?”

  “Well…my dad gave us all five dollars and Grandpa gave us all five dollars, so we have ten dollars each.” Atim was adding on his fingers. “Times four…that’s forty bucks!”

  “Forty bucks. Like, that’s it?” Brett sounded disappointed.

  “Well, that’s our money for the Exhibition Fair. Otter has a hundred dollars from working with Uncle Jacob. That’s his money for the Wail tickets, but since the regular tickets are sold out, we need more cash for the VIP tickets,” Atim blurted out.

  Otter was a little chagrined as Brett slapped him on the shoulder and called him “Big Spender.”

  “So, a hundred and forty bucks.” Brett smacked his hands together and smiled.

  “Maybe we should think about this,” Samuel said.

  “Yeah, everyone should be able to decide, if they want to chip in.” Chickadee was looking at Otter’s face.

  “I don’t want to bet my ticket money,” Otter said quietly and shook his head.

  “You don’t have to, but I’ll chip in my Exhibition money to give it a shot.” Chickadee touched Otter’s arm, nodded to him, and then looked at Brett seriously.

  “Me too,” Samuel said.

  “Okay. Forty bucks. I guess, like, it’s a start.” Brett sounded disappointed.

  “Okay. Now that that’s settled, where is this Crystal Palace place?” Samuel was excited to go.

  ó

  They walked through the business area and into a thin slice of stores and restaurants on the edge of a residential area. This neighborhood was a little dirtier than the groomed streets of downtown.

  Brett led them toward a discount store. Along its side wall was the door that led down to The Crystal Palace. The doorway was surrounded by garishly painted signs that proclaimed it an all-ages arcade and pool hall. Brightly colored placards also declared fresh-cut fries, pool leagues, and cappuccinos as selling features. The door of The Crystal Palace creaked loudly as it opened. The sound was quickly followed by the smell of fried food and old carpet.

  “This is it?” Chickadee looked concerned as she peered down the dark stairwell. Samuel also looked a little worried.

  “It’s fine. Let’s go.” Brett thundered down the steps. Atim and Otter followed quickly behind.

  After a shared glance, Chickadee and Samuel made their way down to the arcade.

  Chapter 5

  The Crystal Palace

  The Crystal Palace was a mixture of deep shadows, colorful neon, and arc
ade lights. It smelled like the ghosts of greasy burgers and spilled pop. A sit-down counter filled the wall in front of them. A grizzled old man behind it gave them a once-over and then returned to his chores. The main room was a field of green and red as pool and snooker tables were spread from wall to wall. To the left, a smaller area was partially blocked off, inside blinked an array of video and pinball games. A palisade of pool sticks lined the outside walls. A scattering of players focused on their games. The smack and click of pool balls colliding kept a random tempo.

  The Mighty Muskrats stood in a bunch right inside the door.

  Brett seemed to know the place well. “Let me ask around if there’s anyone that wants a game.” He walked up to a group of teenagers and began to speak with them.

  Chickadee reassured herself that Brett wouldn’t take them somewhere dangerous, but this place made her nervous. Atim walked the distance to the counter, grabbed a stool at the closest end, and began to study the large menu plastered on the wall. Samuel, Otter, and Chickadee slowly meandered closer to the largest Muskrat.

  Brett returned and told them the game was on.

  “I’ll play their best guy a game for, like, all the money.” Brett started walking back to the table and waved for the Muskrats to follow.

  “One game and all our money? Brett better be on the ball.” Samuel’s voice was hopeful.

  “He’ll kick their butts. Remember what he said? Brett knows what he’s doing.” Atim nodded confidently.

  “Thank you for doing this.” Otter put a hand on Chickadee’s shoulder and looked around at the group.

  “It’s okay. Let’s just get out of here as fast as we can.” Chickadee had agreement from all.

  Brett was picking out a pool cue when the Muskrats walked over. His opponent was hefty, shaggy, and was about seventeen. His denim vest and jeans didn’t look like they’d been washed in days. The big teen’s friend was thin with clipped dark hair. He was dressed better, in a matching tracksuit and expensive running shoes. They both watched the Muskrats with smirks.

  “So, you little kids up for a game?” The large teen smiled down at them. “It’s an easy game. There’s fifteen balls, a table with a pocket at each corner, and pockets in the middle on either side. I use the white ball to knock the other balls into the pockets, and after I sink seven balls, I sink the eight ball. And then I win. You got that, children?”

  The Muskrats smiled tight smiles at the condescending teen.

  “We’re just here to watch. Brett’s playin’.” Atim tried to sound casual as he shook the hair from his face.

  “Well, I’m sorry for taking your money. Just put it over there.” Their opponent guffawed and pointed at a stand-up table between their two groups. Chickadee collected the money from her cousins, placed it on the table, and then sat down.

  The Muskrats scowled at the big bully. Brett walked up to the table with his chosen pool cue and grabbed a cube of chalk. He rubbed the chalk on the tip of his stick to make it less likely to slip against the ball when it made contact.

  “Go get him, Brett.” Chickadee clapped her hands a couple of times.

  “You got this.” Atim slapped Brett on the shoulder as he went by.

  “Get ’im, Brett,” Otter said.

  Brett looked nervous.

  “Your break.” The teenager waved his hand at the table.

  Brett took the white ball and placed it opposite the triangle of racked pool balls. He leaned forward and rested his left hand on the table. Brett balanced the front half of his cue in the valley between his thumb and fingers, so that the tip was pointed directly at the white ball. His right hand pulled and pushed the cue back and forth as he eyed the shot. Suddenly, his arm tightened, and, with a sharp, quick jab of the stick, he sent the white ball crashing into the formation of striped and solid colored orbs.

  The Muskrats cheered as two spheres went in, one solid and one striped. Brett sunk another stripe before he caught a bad bounce and the targeted ball rolled away from the desired pocket.

  “Too bad, so sad.” The teenager arrogantly walked around the table before choosing a solid-colored ball to hit. He slammed the green ball into a corner pocket and then followed that up with the yellow. His third shot caught a purple ball at a wrong angle and sent it bouncing off the soft bumper along the edge of the table and away from the intended pocket. The teen swore loudly and smacked his cue against the table.

  Brett was one ball behind as he aimed at a red-and-white striped sphere. It shot into the back of the pocket like a bullet. The white ball continued to bounce around the table, pushing other balls out of its super-charged way. Eventually, it came to rest against the bumper edge of the table. Four other balls now blocked the paths to most of the table.

  “Poop!” Brett looked concerned.

  “What’s up? You’re tied now.” Atim moved from his spot along the wall and stood closer to Brett to consult.

  “I should have, like, paid more attention to my next shot.” Brett studied the table. “Good pool players always shoot so the white ball is, like, set up to for their next shot. I forgot to do that and now the white ball is right up against the rail.”

  Atim pointed to a purple-and-white striped ball, a few inches from the bumper, but closer to the far corner pocket. “You could try that.”

  Brett shook his head. “Yeah, but like, then where?”

  “No coaching!” The big teenager laughed, hit his buddy on the shoulder, and turned his back on them.

  Atim returned to the tall round table where Chickadee and Otter were watching the game.

  Brett studied the scattering of balls for another moment and cued up the target that Atim picked.

  The Muskrats held their breaths. Brett aimed at the white ball below its center, so the cue put backspin into the white ball’s course across the table. It hit the purple-and-white ball, and then slowed and stopped, rather than rolling forward normally. Brett now had an easier angle to get a different ball down the side pocket. The purple-and-white ball plunked into the pocket.

  “Backspin!” Brett smiled. The Muskrats all exhaled.

  After Brett sank another ball, his opponent began to watch the game more closely.

  Chickadee noticed and quietly said to her cousins, “Big guy’s getting nervous.”

  The teenager tried to hide his concern with belittling. “That was luck.” He took a long pull on the straw of his soft drink.

  Brett seemed more confident. But he hit his last stripe a little too hard and it rattled between the corners of the pocket. “Like…argghh!” Brett leaned against his cue and rubbed his forehead with his other hand.

  “Shake it off, Brett! You’re up by four!” Atim cheered.

  “Just one more and then the eight ball, Brett. No problem.” Chickadee smiled.

  Otter gave Brett a brave look and lifted his fist in the air. Brett smiled back at all of them and then watched the big guy shoot.

  “Got to clean this up,” Brett’s opponent growled at his friend.

  After walking around chalking his cue, the denim-clad teen bent over the table and sank a solid red ball. With a serious expression, he sank two more balls, and then his face relaxed a bit as he studied the table for his next shot.

  “You’re right behind him, boss,” the other teen encouraged. “Two more then the eight ball.”

  Brett’s opponent nodded and circled the table. “I’ll put these kids to bed right now.” He snapped a blue ball into a corner pocket and tied up the game. He leaned back and smiled at the Muskrats. “Your hero boy is going down.”

  Chickadee raised her eyebrows at him and then looked back at the game.

  The teenager lined up the next shot and then teasingly regarded the Muskrats as he sent the ball toward a pocket. But the ball swung wide and bounced slightly off the rail. The bully looked at where his ball landed and swore loudly. He stood and sm
acked his pool cue against the table.

  Brett sighed. They both had to sink one more before they started shooting at the final ball. Sinking the black eight ball wins the game. The Muskrats cheered on their player.

  Brett stood quickly and shot at his last ball. It rattled in the pocket. The Muskrats held their breaths, but then the bouncing stopped. The sphere balanced on the rim. Slowly, it tipped over the edge. It landed with a click as it hit the other balls at the bottom of the pocket.

  The kids let out a loud cheer. But the white ball kept rolling. It hit the bumper gently and came to rest behind his opponent’s last solid ball.

  “Ha! Hooked yourself,” the teenager shouted. “You have to hit that eight or you’ve lost.”

  Brett looked ill. It was a rule, if you’re on the black ball, you must, at least, hit it with each shot. With the white ball hugging his opponent’s ball, and the table edge just an inch or two behind, it was unlikely that Brett could find an angle that would bring the white ball in contact with the black one.

  The only way he could hope not to hit the solid ball first was to shoot toward the edge. He looked at the eight, back at the white, and then back at the eight. He picked an angle, changed it and then picked another. Brett hit the white ball with medium force. It bounced off the rail, past the last solid, and then wandered across the table to hit the far rail. It stopped six inches from the black ball.

  The big teenager jumped and fist punched the air. The Muskrats gasped and then they all shared disappointed glances. Brett looked at the floor, his cue stick resting horizontal across the table.

  “Get my money.” The laughing winner pointed at the stack of cash. His friend got up and swiped the winnings.

  “Now…I’m going to leave you sad, sad kids alone.” He frowned like a clown as he looked at the Muskrats. “It was our table, so allow us to pay for it…with your money.” The big teen laughed. He walked over to Brett and whispered something in his ear. Brett’s shoulders slouched farther when he heard his opponent’s words. With his buddy in tow, the big teen wandered over to the man at the counter.