by R L Wagner
“My shoe!” Benny said, picking it up off the table. "Hey, my shoelace is missing.”
“His name is Orazzio Sforza,” Uncle Scott said.
“You know him?” I said, surprised.
“He seems to think so,” Uncle Scott replied, reading the note left beside Benny’s
shoe. “R oughly this says he would like to meet me again here in three days. He writes that ‘there is much that, I remain unknowing about’.”
He finished reading, handed me the note, and walked over to the bookcase.
“This is written in Italian, right? You speak Italian, Uncle Scott?” I asked.
“Roughly.” He shot me back a sly grin.
“Cool!” Benny ran next to Uncle Scott, who had unlocked and opened a small door panel of books on the bookcase. It swung open revealing a small, hidden computer and flat screen monitor. Next to them, a long roll of paper wound slowly through what looked like an old, stock market, ticket tape machine.
“This is a simple alarm system for when I’m away. It digitally captures who might have come and gone,” Uncle Scott said, rewinding the screen’s images with a remote control.
“How do you keep this modern equipment running in 1883?” Benny asked.
“Medical implant batteries, they’re good for five to ten years.” Uncle Scott bounced his eyebrows and smiled at Benny.
My spine felt like ice. My arms exploded with gaggles of goose bumps. “Hold up, Uncle Scott.” I studied the screen to be sure it was him
– it was, my gut couldn’t be fooled. “That’s him!” I said. I was wrought with anxiety, but I stopped short of getting sick. There on the screen was the man in black, Signore
Alchimista, Orazzio Sforza.
“What a creeper!” I said.
We watched the screen. He had been in Uncle Scott’s apartment for only a minute. Orizzio Sforza had indeed rushed through the door, looked around the room looking extremely disappointed to not find us there. His dirty smile revealed his terribly crooked teeth. Sforza bent down and picked up Benny’s shoe. Without hesitation, he stole the shoelace and put it into his black shoulder pack. Out of his coat, Sforza pulled the note Uncle Scott read and placed it with the shoe on the table. He left by the front door, smiling wildly.
“Uncle Scott, you’re going to meet him?” I asked nervously.
“Yes I am, but not in three days, and not where and when he would like. And maybe I won’t meet him alone!”
Uncle Scott stopped and disconnected the paper roll of ticket tape and carefully unwound the center portion flat on the table. Benny and I stood watching as he explained.
“These ink markings, these lines, and printed dates are recorded every three minutes. When I match the marked paper dates to the time to the corresponding recordings on the computer, I have actual ink and paper artifacts from these recorded moments.”
“You have an actual artifact from the exact time when Creeper broke in!” I said, astonished.
“Exactly, and with this artifact, I will meet Signore Sforza when he first arrives, with the element of surprise on my side, and most importantly, before he steals the shoe lace,” Uncle Scott said, sounding confidently clever.
“Instead of three days after as he proposed in the note,” I added.
“Which is tomorrow,” Benny interrupted.
“Yes!” Uncle Scott answered.
“Which then actually changes the events in time!” I declared. Suddenly there was a sharp knock on the door. I jumped up to close the bookshelf panel. Benny quickly rolled up the spool of ticket tape and placed it on the mantel behind our framed photograph.
“Hold that thought, Busters!” Uncle Scott said, waiting for us to finish. He opened the door. I recognized the face of the man from behind the pub bar, Molly’s father, Brian.
“I see you’ve made your reunion,” Brian said, looking at us. “Christine said she thought she heard you all in here. May I have a word with you, Scott? Perhaps in the hall would be best,” he said, looking very tired and distressed. His concerned glance at Benny and me revealed that he didn’t want to talk in front of us. Brian held up an envelope.
“Oh, please come in, my good friend,” Uncle Scott said as Brian again reluctantly looked toward Benny and me. “The children are quite hardy, please,” Uncle Scott repeated as he outstretched his arm and nodded his head. Brian stepped in, obviously filled with worry.
“Molly is missing and hasn’t been home for three days. We’ve notified the Bobbies. She told us she’d be gone for one day and late into the night. Molly said she had an errand to run for you, Scott. Christine found this on the floor behind her table yesterday. It’s addressed to you.”
Brian handed Uncle Scott the envelope. Molly’s letter was still sealed. Uncle Scott opened it and read quietly to himself.
Brian looked to be in agony. “Is there anything there, Scott? Your profession is mystery crime solving and such yeah? Isn’t that what you’re known for?” he pleaded.
Benny and I sat quietly, anxiously waiting for a word from Uncle Scott.
“There might be nothing here, but then again . . .” Uncle Scott said it like he had found something. He lowered the letter to his side. “I need a day to start this Brian.” He paused and extended his hand. “Tell Christine and know it well Brian, I will find your Molly!” Uncle Scott sounded like an undefeated army of hope.
Brian dropped his head then shook Uncle Scott’s hand. “I will hold you to that, Scott. Thank you, thank you.”
Brian cracked a weak smile at Benny and me and left.
“So what does her letter say Uncle Scott?” Benny sounded ready for the worst. Uncle Scott read it aloud:
Dear Scotty, Today a charming young man named William Hundt came to the portrait shop wanting to possibly buy a camera. He says his employers the Kodak’s make cameras. (I’ve heard of them, but I didn’t let on.) Hundt says they are rightly impressed with your published newsprint photographs.
It’s all something about your crime scene pictures. That your subjects are all ‘quite clear in the foreground and all the background architecture is quite vividly nice and detailed’.
Well, I told Mr. Hundt his shutter
readings are just all wrong! And well . . . the conversation led to flirting, and lunch, and that lead to a competition wager: who could do the better shot, me or him? (The winner supplies dinner in Piccadilly.)
You are not here Scotty, so I hope you will be with me on this. For goodness sake, he may be a possible true love for me and your honor is on the flame.
I have taken Moe with me and 18 plates to prove you indeed have the better camera. The nearly day’s drive in a steam
carriage, (can you imagine?), will bring us to the abandoned Faye Tor Manor, on the Dartmoor Moors. William says the architecture of the manor, and pretty me, will make for the proper photographic subjects.
Seriously, trust me in this Scotty. Moe and me will be as safe as sugar and I’ll make you proud, and probably return before you return.
Most important, kisses to the adorable children! They’re bold them two, and will save our lives if we give them half a chance.
Molly
P.S. I’m packing a picnic and a potpourri of wolf bane. This place is said to be seriously haunted!
“Then we know where Molly is,” I said. “We know where Molly said she was going,” Uncle Scott replied.
“‘Plates’ I know is the glass film, but
what’s ‘Moe’?” Benny asked.
“My cameras do slightly different things. To keep them straight I have a name for each of them. My top three cameras are Larry, Curly, and Moe,” Uncle Scott explained. I mean, that’s pretty funny, but none of us felt like laughing, Molly was missing!
We never got back to my ‘changing events’ comment. Signore Sforza would have to wait. Of course finding Molly was paramount. We had her letter and from the information on it we could now start researching possible leads using Uncle Scott’s computers. For sure we couldn’t
keep Mom waiting! We quickly packed up, getting ready for the long awaited travel back to Clayton. A single wish started all this – to get Uncle Scott back home. It seemed like an eternity ago that we started this quest. I suppose it had been.
Uncle Scott took out his key ring and pulled up a small spoon. “This will travel us to the Clayton kitchen,” he said, smiling and displaying it. He was excited to finally be travel home. Time was pressing. Rammie, Mom, and the rest of the world for that matter, were waiting. But now, most importantly, Molly was too!
Uncle Scott stood in the center spot of our portrait holding the camera outstretched and ready to take the shot. Benny and I stood on either side of him and wrapped our arms again around his waist. Uncle Scott held up the spoon while covering the other keys on the ring in a napkin.
“This makes our seventh travel,” Benny said.
“Amazing!” Uncle Scott looked at us both. “Everybody ready?” he asked.
“Do it, Captain,” Benny said.
“Expect the Unexpected!” I said with a bold grin.
Benny asked just as Uncle Scott took the shot, “So, do you guys actually believe in ghosts?”
Clearly Benny was thinking about Molly’s letter. Before we could answer, the stars rushed in replacing the apartment. The traveling blackness appeared with the pin spot of green light racing toward us from far in the distance. I said it then.
“No, Benny, I’ve told you. I don’t believe in ghosts.” The green reach us and covered us. We floated in a field of stars.
“No, Benny, I don’t believe in ghosts either,” Uncle Scott answered, “at least not yet.”
At least not yet.
21 What’s Next
The Clayton kitchen replaced the vanishing stars with that crisp clap. We were back. Surprisingly we three landed and just stood there quietly. No party guests yelled surprise, no drum major led a parade band, no news crews covered the event of the Mystery Buster’s return home. It was funny because all that came into my mind.
The Clayton kitchen received Uncle Scott on an early summer morning. I could smell it would be another hot day. I could tell Benny was doing what I was doing, waiting. Slowly Uncle Scott lowered the camera. He wrapped his arms further around Benny and me and quietly drew us closer to him. I heard the kitchen clock ticking, passing the seconds into a passing minute.
“You were gone a very long time, Uncle Scott, “ I said.
“Yeah like a lifetime,” Benny added. “ More than a lifetime,” Uncle Scott said. I didn’t want to think about that, but I did
consider it just after reading his letter for the first time. Uncle Scott might have been gone for more than a hundred years before we found him in 1883. ‘And where is Molly right now?’ popped into my head. I just didn’t want to think about that either. We landed, and now suddenly everything was different, everything. Uncle Scott was home!
Uncle Scott let go of us, handed me the camera, took a step, and looked out the square panes of the kitchen window. The inviting first light of morning squeezed through the grand magnolia canopy, crowded with white flowers. The filtered light rays spilled bright dots, sun fairies, onto us. Like tiny dancers, they tiptoed warmly across our faces.
Benny was excited. He struck a pose with his chest out, hands on his hips, his head tilted slightly back with his chin up; Mr. Astronaut Boy, had now arrived home, with his mission heroically accomplished.
And then it came; expect the expected! Rammie targeted Uncle Scott like a runaway locomotive. He started screaming at the top of the stairs, raced down the carpet runner, and slipped rounding the banister post at the end of the stairs. Uncle Scott’s eyes were open wide. He turned and took the yelling black fur bullet square in his chest. Screeching yowls and a battery of continuous happy cat head-butts greeted Uncle Scott’s chin, BAP! At last! BAP, I missed you! BAP, Ever think about that? BAP, Where have you been? BAP, This is so wonderful! BAP BAP, Welcome home! BAP! Rammie’s head-butts against Uncle Scott’s chin were absolute proof that animals have feelings!
Then we knew it, embarrassingly it was all too clear; we needed showers. After their trip to kitty wonderland, Uncle Scott moved quickly. He had told Brian that he needed one day to get his search for Molly started.
In the shower Benny sang at the top of his lungs.
With my hair still dripping, I got Mom on the phone. She apologized for being so busy and thought she would be back for dinner by six, maybe seven depending on the traffic. She sang sweetly into the phone that she had “a big surprise” for Benny and me.
I sang back, “We do to.”
When Uncle Scott was packed and ready, we all agreed that it would be best if he could be back here around dinnertime. That would certainly give him several days in London. He met us in the living room. He had a large leather bag, the camera satchel, and two large books at his side. He was looking over the living room detective table at the fifty-two index clue cards that Benny and I made.
“Impressive, you really figured how to find me by following these clues?” Uncle Scott asked.
“Yeah.” Benny said. “Che cosa arrivera a me.”
“Amazing!” he said, shooting us a smile.
“I guess we sort have this detective stuff in our blood, Uncle Scott,” I said quietly. I stared at the big leather suitcase next to him. “Mom will be home at six, maybe seven,” I said.
Benny hit the question head on.
“Big bag you’ve got there, Uncle Scott, you’re coming back, right?” Benny said, trying to lift the bag.
“I wouldn’t miss dinner Ben, not for the entire world. That heavy bag is packed with fresh cloths, a laptop, batteries, some tools, but mostly a medical kit and supplies, just in case,” Uncle Scott said.
Benny and I just stared nervously.
“Kids, I’m in! We made a deal, I shook on it, and I’m sticking to it. We are The Busters now! These cards of yours prove you’re up to cracking a case. And now we have one to solve for Molly!” Uncle Scott looked at his watch.
“Help me with these, time is ticking,” he said.
Downstairs Uncle Scott stood on the white ‘X’ and I held the camera’s shutter release, ready to take the shot.
“I downloaded the Nessie footage and charged up the battery, Uncle Scott. If you want them, you have about eleven fresh minutes all ready to shoot,” Benny said, holding Rammie tight. He handed Uncle Scott his port camera.
“Great, thanks, Ben. I’ll bring it back in a week or so.” Uncle Scott smiled.
“So you have everything Uncle Scott? New tooth brush, socks, vanilla, and the traveling camera?” I asked, trying to smile through one of Rammie’s long yowling monologues.
“Check, check, check, and check!” Uncle Scott said, and held up his apartment key with a handkerchief wrapped around the rest of his ‘keys’. He looked up at the sign and said, “Expect – me! I’ll see you for dinner Busters. Take the shot Sally. I’ll be right back, good boy, Rammie.”
“See you around six then! Please be careful Uncle Scott, don’t forget about Orazzio Sforza, and…”
“ And good luck with Molly,” Benny finished over my words and Rammie’s desperate yowls of disapproval.
“Don’t say anything to Jean kids. I’ve got this!” Uncle Scott said, and I squeezed the shudder release.
The room winked green and quickly filled in over Uncle Scott. Rammie protested and struggled in Benny’s arms. I understood. It wasn’t easy taking the shot. Honestly, I didn’t want to let Uncle Scott go. If Benny felt the same, he was hiding it really well, like it was just another summer vacation day in the country. We left the office and went upstairs. I put our 3x5 cards in my pocket.
In the garden, under the white trellis, we ate breakfast cereal and drank chocolate milk. It was going to be another scorcher. Our breakfast conversation was short, mainly about what Molly’s letter might suggest for a computer search. We waved and called out hellos to Aida as she drove away. She smiled back and mouthed a friendly ‘I’ll see you soon’
. Benny and I did the dishes, cleaned the house some, unpacked more boxes, and put together some food for dinner, mainly unpacking the chips and putting sodas in the fridge. Instead of a proper lunch, we just snacked. We didn’t say much other than take turns asking what time it was. Mom called at 12:00, 2:00, and 4:00 saying she had picked up some grill stuff and was on her way with “the surprise.” Through most of it Rammie napped, rarely leaving his porch swing.
Ok, honestly, by six thirty Benny and I were both total nervous wrecks. We sat on the front stairs watching the sky and considered calling it a day.
“Neither one is here yet, even Aida’s not here,” Benny said anxiously.
“I don’t know, you know? I just don’t know! What’s the worst that could happen; everyone arriving at the same time?” I answered, frustrated.
“Yeah, that would be messy. I hadn’t thought of that one. Thanks!” Benny said, bouncing his knees up and down like he was riding a bike.
Rammie suddenly yowled, got up off the swing, and trotted in the house. Benny and I stared at his black tail push past the front door and vanish. We looked at each other, and bolted after him in hot pursuit. We searched the living room and kitchen and quickly came up cat-less. Upstairs, the book case door was closed just as we had left it. Rammie didn’t answer our calls, but Mom’s minivan horn bleated out a half dozen times as she drove down the gravel driveway.
“Mom,” we yelled, and ran down stairs totally panicked.
“Ok, so, the worst thing that could happen is Mom comes home, for say twenty minutes, and then Uncle Scott appears out of nowhere, and we never said anything about his returning. THAT would be totally suspicious like we were keeping secrets!” Benny said.
“Yeah well, Uncle Scott said not to say anything, and that he would handle it,” I said, sounding cranky. I ran to the front door with Benny on my heels. Mom was getting out of the car, and we made a quick one eighty-degree turn to check in the kitchen hoping, hoping, hoping, that Uncle Scott would return right now from his travel. Nothing!
