Mara Louis; Girl of Mystery

by Timothy Paterson

letter from Mr. Ford. It did not make much sense to me, though. It was quite puzzling actually.”

  “Do you still have the letter?” asked Mara.

  “It’s around her somewhere,” said Mr. Lincoln. He invited Mara and her parents into the theater and led them to his office. He began rummaging through the desk drawers. After a few minutes, he brought out an envelope that was yellowed with age. He handed it to Mara.

  Very carefully, Mara took the letter out of the envelope and carefully unfolded it. She then read it aloud to her parents:

  “July 12, 1946

 

  Dear Johnny,

 

  I have treasured our friendship immensely over the past ten years. You are like a grandson to me. My family will be taking over my company after I am gone, but I wanted you to have something that is very special to me. I am giving you the warehouse where I first started developing the automobile, over fifty years ago.

  I would also like to offer you some advice. While you are searching for your fortune, leave no stone unturned. When you get your first job, remember, there is no dishonor in working under someone else. Also, do not feel that it is beneath you to help others. When you finally do achieve greatness, always examine your options. Hard work is the foundation of success, even though you may have to start digging below that level at times. Have a good life and do whatever makes you happy.

  Affectionately yours,

  Henry Ford”

  As Mara finished reading the letter, a young man walked into the theater. Mr. Lincoln introduced him to Mara and her parents; “This is my grandson Abraham Mudd.”

  Again, Mara looked up at the ceiling, but did not say anything.

  “Abe just finished his sophomore year of college,” said Mr. Lincoln. “He wants to go to medical school, but his parents can’t afford to send him. His grades are good enough though. Abe is working two jobs this summer. He works here in the evenings and he works on the toll way from one a.m. to nine a.m.”

  At this point, Mara interrupted Mr. Lincoln and asked, “By any chance, he doesn’t work in a toll booth, does he?”

  “Why, yes I do,” said Abe. “How did you guess?”

  “This is just too weird,” said Mara “Don’t you realize how much your lives have in common with President Lincoln’s assassination?” Mara asked Abe. “John Wilkes Booth assassinated Abraham Lincoln in Ford Theater and hid in a warehouse. Later, Doctor Mudd set his broken leg. Your grandfather’s name is John Lincoln. He owns the Ford Theater, which used to be a warehouse. Your name is Abraham Mudd and you work in a toll booth.”

  “I really never thought about it, that much” said Abe. “You are a pretty clever girl, Mara.”

  “I don’t know if you have ever heard of me,” said Mara, “but I have solved several mysteries around the country in the past several years. Sometimes, I get help from psychic dreams or visions.”

  As Mara told Mr. Lincoln and Abe about her most recent dream, she could see that they were very interested.

  “So, what’s the mystery here?” asked Abe.

  “I think that this letter is the key to the mystery,” said Mara. “There has to be a clue in here somewhere. I just have to find it.”

  Everybody remained quiet while Mara read and reread the letter, looking for clues.

  “I think that Mr. Ford left you something besides the warehouse,” Mara told Mr. Lincoln. “Did you find anything out of the ordinary hidden when you tore down the warehouse?”

  “No” said Mr. Lincoln. “I used some of the wood to build this theater, so that I would always have part of the warehouse in my life, but I found nothing of real value.”

  Mara reread the letter again, and this time, certain words seemed to jump off the page, as if Mr. Ford wanted her to see them. Mara smiled a big smile. “I know where the rest of your inheritance is, Mr. Lincoln. I just don’t know what it is.”

  “Where is it?” asked Mr. Lincoln and his grandson at the same time.

  “In this letter, Mr. Ford made several references to where something was hidden,” said Mara, “words such as under, below and beneath. He also referred to foundation, and ‘to leave no stones unturned. I believe that your real inheritance is in a basement beneath the patio of your theater, or what used to be the floor of his warehouse. Would it be okay if we removed some stones from the patio to see what is below them?”

  Mr. Lincoln quickly agreed to Mara’s request and went to get some tools from his truck. A few minutes later, he returned with a crowbar and some hammers and chisels.

  As the five of them walked around to the patio, Mara’s mind was already contemplating what might be in the basement. When Mara saw the size of the patio, she realized that the warehouse had been rather small. The patio was only forty by sixty feet in size.

  Mara selected a stone in the center of the patio, and began chiseling the cement from around a stone. With her father and Abe also chiseling away, they soon had loosened three stones. Mara carefully lifted the stones out and placed them to one side. She found a layer of black plastic. When she cut away the plastic sheet, she found plywood. She tapped on it and from the hollow sound; she realized that there was indeed some sort of room beneath the plywood.

  Mr. Lincoln gave permission to remove the rest of the stones. Soon, all five of them, including Mara’s mother began removing the rest of the stones. By this time, it was almost ten-thirty a.m. and people began arriving to catch the early matinee. Mr. Lincoln soon put them to work removing stones.

  By twelve-thirty p.m., all of the stones had been removed. Mara and Abe rolled up the sheets of plastic, exposing several sheets of plywood. Mara began searching for a piece of plywood that was loose, like a door. She soon found what she was looking for. At one end of the patio, there was a square of plywood that appeared to be hinged. Mara lifted the door, and flipped it open. Below was a set of stairs.

  Mr. Lincoln had brought several flashlights and he handed one to Mara. Mara started down the stairs, followed by her parents, Mr. Lincoln and Abe, all carrying flashlights. What they discovered shocked everyone. For, there in front of them, was what appeared to be a brand new Model-T Ford automobile. They quickly discovered that there were three other autos similar to the Model-T, but each was slightly different. There were also several antique bicycles and a vehicle that resembled a dune buggy. Mr. Lincoln said it was called a quadricycle, built around 1893; it was a gasoline-powered buggy.

  On one wall, were several shelves filled with various auto parts, all in excellent condition. Mara saw a desk off in the corner and went over to investigate. While she was looking through some notebooks and papers that she found in the drawers of the desk, Mr. Lincoln walked over and asked, “What have you found there, Mara?”

  “”Well, from what I’ve read so far” said Mara, “these are design plans and ideas for Mr. Ford’s first automobile. As far as everyone else knew, Mr. Ford’s workshop was upstairs, but his secret workshop was down here. When Mr. Ford put down the stone floor, he cemented all of the stones in place, except those around the trap door and he kept his desk over the trap door, so no one else knew that there was a basement. He must have cemented the last stones in place sometime before he died. There are documents down here that were signed in 1946, about the same time he wrote out his will.”

  “I also found a letter written to you, Mr. Lincoln” said Mara.

  “Please read it to me,” said Mr. Lincoln. “I left my reading glasses in my office.” By this time, the others had gathered around them and they all listened as Mara read the letter aloud:

  “Dear Johnny,

  My dear boy, I hope that you solve my riddle and locate this secret workshop. I leave all of the contents of this workshop to you; John Lincoln, and to you alone. Feel free to do whatever you wish with the contents. Go to college, and sell these items to pay your expenses, o
r do whatever makes you truly happy.

  I am leaving all of this to you, because in the ten years I have known you, you never asked me for anything except my friendship, while everyone else always wanted my ideas, my company or my money.

  Among my things, you will find several notebooks. Some of these contain my research and my ideas for the development of the automobile, while others contain notes and daily entries about my life.

  In ten of these journals, I have attempted to explain my life’s work, sort of an autobiography, if you will. You have my permission to publish them, if you so choose, and keep all the proceeds from their sale.

  The bicycles in this shop are my personal collection. They were what first gave me the idea for the automobile.

  The Model-T that you see before you is the very first one I ever built, in 1907. I built it down here and it has never left this room. I do not know if it still works or not. The other three automobiles are models that I built between 1896 and 1900. They were my first attempts at the automobile. Since I was not satisfied with them, they have never been seen by anyone else besides me, until now, that is.

  I am having this letter witnessed by a local judge and a Catholic priest, both of whom are good friends of mine and have been sworn to secrecy. This letter should keep my family and my company from claiming anything in this room. It is all yours, Johnny, and yours alone.