Book 5 "TOY MASTER"
*With only a few weeks before the town's New Years celebrations, Joey Salas overhears a disturbing phone conversation from one of the owners of a new local business. Heritage Toys brought employment and renewed investment to Mosquito Creek, Montana - but maybe something else too.Hoping his imagination has gotten the better of his good sense, he shares what her heard with the other club members, then the sheriff. Everything appears completely innocent until Heritage Toys unveils a special commemorative nutcracker of George Washington on his horse - with parts that Joey suspects do a great deal more than just play music... [eBook copy $1.00]
CHAPTER 1
Those
First Impressions…
Dear Patrick, its January 2, 2000! A
whole new year and a whole new century, but I’m not kidding when I say the old-crazies came back to Mosquito Creek!
It
was way cool seeing the beginning of a brand new century. But I bet the entire
world didn’t have the kinda excitement at the end of 1999 that we did right
here in Montana, but you havta keep what I’m bustin to tell you real quiet
until you hear it on your BBC. You can’t even tell Aunt Helen or Uncle Angus
till then!
I haven’t written for a while cause
it was real quiet around town for over a full year since our wild Halloween and
the stolen art. Good thing too. Every
one of our parents were wigging out about the danger we kept getting mixed up
in. Each member of the club was pretty much grounded.
We
could only hangout at school or at each other’s houses when our parents were
home. No club meetings allowed – it was like the ranch, and that train, and the
mayor’s brother, and the stolen art was somehow our blunder. We didn’t think it
was fair because all that weird stuff found us! Just like this one…
**********
SUNDAY,
NOVEMBER 22
Joey
Salas hurried up the steep stairs balancing the appetizer tray his grandmother
gave him. The snack was for Thor Wilbur, one of the toy factory owners. Joey
noticed the frosted glass door to the office, Mr. Wilbur shared with his cousin
Hans and their Uncle Penn Ziv, was open a full inch so Joey could easily push
it open further without needing to juggle the tray with one hand.
As
he reached the narrow landing that looked down over the factory floor and the
festivities of the community open-house, Joey heard a voice and realized Mr.
Wilbur was on the phone. Not wanting to disturb the call he stepped aside and waited.
“Yah,
all the parts we need are here now, but they still must be modified in order to
pass all the security inspections at the White House and at the governors’
mansions.”
Silence
came from inside the office.
Laugher
and muffled conversation drifted up from the social gathering below.
Then
Mr. Thor spoke again. “That is not good enough. We need accurate scheduling for
the White House and all state mansions. If neither the Clinton family nor the
governors’ families, will be in their public homes for Christmas then we must
quickly adjust our timing so that all nutcrackers can be activated
simultaneously prior to Christmas Eve or we lose the effect of our surprise.”
Joey
Salas leaned against the wall for support, bewildered. He began to shake and
almost dropped the tray of miniature tacos. What was Thor Wilbur saying? Who was
the person at the other end of the phone line?
Mr. Wilbur didn’t sound happy. What Joey overheard couldn’t possibly
mean what he was thinking it meant. Maybe it was nothing – maybe it was just
his overactive imagination.
He
stepped away from the wall and took a deep breath then balancing the tray he knocked
on the office door.
Mr.
Wilbur lowered his voice. “No do not send it to me and certainly nothing like
that by fax. That is a needless paper trail that could cause serious trouble
and jeopardize our contact. Just handle it from there, assure me it’s done, and
then give me an exact ship date. I must go there is someone at my office door.”
He hung up.
“Yes
come in.”
With
a forced smile Joey nudged the door open with one shoulder carrying the tray
with both hands. “My grandma sent me to deliver this for you. She noticed you
weren’t down stairs and the buffet table was being “invaded” as she called it.
Thor
Wilbur stood with a smile and reached for the tray. “Your Grandma Rosa is very
thoughtful. I must return a few more phone calls then I will be downstairs to
provide a tour of the machinery and our assembly process. I shall thank your
grandmother in person.”
When
Mr. Wilbur sat down again, he put the tray to one side then picked up the
receiver of his desk phone to dial another number. Joey took his cue, relieved
to go.
**********
As
Thanksgiving drew closer, Heritage Toys,
Inc. had become a familiar sight in Mosquito Creek, Montana. The owners, Hans
Wilbur and his cousin Thor Wilbur had breezed into town the previous March.
After two days of looking around town on their own they met with Sonia
Molosky’s mother who had listed the empty Bonner Building for sale. With one
quick tour of the former old two story Larabie Brother’s Bank, they bought it
for the full asking price on-the-spot.
The
cousins worked quickly. By the end of May, they had finished renovations and
installed their equipment. They hired and trained ten local people. By the end
of June they were making and selling old fashioned wooden toys and novelties.
At a Chamber of Commerce meeting
Mayor Peters called them “…the kind of decisive business people Powell County
needed more of…” He was so enthusiastic about the new enterprise, he almost
sang when he talked.
Everyone
said that Heritage Toys brought a renewed burst of energy to the entire
community. Gordon McKenna’s grandfather Park Sullivan printed a large ad every
week in his newspaper for Heritage Toys’ featuring what was new in the
company’s catalogue and on their store shelves.
By
the end of summer just about every house in town had at least one new brightly
painted bird house, and go-cart sales outpaced new bikes. Cart races during the
summer might have replaced the regular bike races except there were too many
competitors and few paved roads that didn’t carry motor traffic.
Mia Cho’s dad had a new accounting
client. Sonia Molosky’s mom, not only sold the owners of Heritage Toys a new
manufacturing location, but she also sold them the old six bedroom Coleman
mansion to move into with their wives Gabrielle and Kristine and their Uncle
Penn Ziv, who was the factory’s production manager.
However, though the two Mrs.
Wilburs, who ran the storefront and the family in general were friendly to
customers, the five newcomers kept to themselves for much of the time their
first seven months in business.
So
when Mr. Hans Wilbur contacted the Mosquito Creek Review, to advertise a Community Thank You Open House just
before American Thanksgiving – the social event was a surprise.
The
afternoon open house and factory tour was set for Sunday, November 22nd
and Joey’s grandparents, who owned the Los Tres Luna Restaurant were asked to
cater the food.
With such a major catering job the
entire Salas family was expected to pitch in. Joey’s Granddad Ricardo cooked at
the restaurant, while Fredrico, Joey’s father took a day off from his pharmacy
to drive food from the restaurant kitchen to the event and Grandma Rosa hovered
over the buffet table.
But
they still needed more help so Joey had asked his friend Leif Anderlund, his
best girl Mia Cho and her friend Sonia Molosky to help him and his younger
sister Lena to carry serving trays among the guests.
When the double doors to the factory
opened in the back of the store at 1PM – there were so many colorful, dazzling
displays visitors hardly knew where to look first.
The Christmas exhibit of several
styles of small scale doll houses with furniture and trains with inner working
parts and scale models of log forts caused a human traffic jam immediately to
the right just inside the factory warehouse doors.
The displays had been set up in the
shape of a giant fan, on long narrow triangle-shaped pine tables made for
showcasing the new line of toys along with Yuletide ornaments and decorations.
But it was the center table that became the jaw-dropping hit.
The display was a pyramid of fifteen
large nutcrackers in the likeness of George Washington on his horse. Each of
the mounted nutcrackers was three feet high and painted in accurate detail. The
banner hanging over the stunning presentation read: ‘Our gift to our new country.’ Thirty-six more were still in
production.
Beside
each finished carved wooden figure was a card indicating the state it was
destined to be shipped, with the nutcracker at the top ready to go to the White
House. Thor Wilbur had told the newspaper editor that the generous ‘gift’ had
been his marketing idea that he expected would bring national attention for the
new company.
On
the stairs, Joey felt weak again and wondered if he thought the worst because
of everything that had happened in Mosquito Creek over the previous few years.
From
his vantage point between the office and the warehouse floor, Joey watched the
crowd. Thor’s Uncle Penn was having an animated discussion with Sonia’s Grandpa
Molosky by the pyramid display. Hans Wilbur was all the way around the half
circle fan-display demonstrating the inside mechanics of one of the painted
trains to a large group of kids.
Philip
Peters, with two cameras and three lenses hanging from his neck as usual, was
taking photographs of food, people, toys, the ceiling - literally everything in
the building for the local weekly newspaper.
As
Joey stopped behind the buffet table to put more napkins in a basket and more
salsa into a serving bowl, Thor Wilbur reappeared. He smiled broadly at Joey as
he walked by the table to return the tray. With a cordless microphone he
announced the start of a formal tour of the factory’s machinery and how it
worked for anyone who was interested.
Everyone
in the crowd looked happy and relaxed. None of the factory owners appeared
menacing or anything like a threat to national security. Joey shook his head
and decided he had overreacted and there was nothing sinister about to happen
in Mosquito Creek again.
CHAPTER 2
NOVEMBER
25
- The
Turkey Chase…
Silas Tate’s hog and turkey farm was
only a few miles south of town on the west side of Lost Creek. Between the
local Safeway and Valley IGA Foods nearly all of Mr. Tate’s fattened two
year-old birds had been processed, frozen and were rolling around inside store freezer’s
like loose bowling balls. Most that is except for one major customer, the
Mosquito Creek Inn.
Traditionally
the guest ranch bought six live turkeys they didn’t process until the day
before Thanksgiving, with one exception. Registered out of state visitors and
local invited dinner guests were given a list of clues to a secret location
where all six turkeys were concealed.
The
winning sleuth who found the hiding place could then free the bird of their choice
from eventually losing all of its’ feathers and becoming part of a main course
meal.
Because
of the Millennium celebrations the inn was completely booked, which meant extra
adults in the main dining room. So this year Mrs. Gaikis, who was the inn’s restaurant
manager, asked Mr. Tate to deliver two extra live turkeys to an undisclosed
location in time for the hunt
Wednesday afternoon, the day before Thanksgiving.
However,
finding a location to hide eight large, noisy, thirty pound birds was not a
simple mission even with several acres, a greenhouse, three barns and eight
sheds. All Tuesday morning the inn’s owner Zara Grant and her assistant manager
Monica Nelsen struggled to come up with a place that would hold the birds
without their noise revealing where they were.
Then
just before lunch Mrs. Gaikis who lived in the log cabin of a former ranch
foreman a short distance west from the inn and main outbuildings - volunteered
her root cellar.
“When
Hanna gets home from school, she and I can easily move the few boxes and empty
suitcases we have stored down there. It will be tight, but if Silas delivers
them tonight after dark, they’ll sleep so they won’t need much space.”
Zara
Grant was relieved. “Susan that’s perfect. I don’t even want to imagine where we
could put them if they don’t fit in your small cellar, but at least Monica can
finish with the list of clues.”
With
the turkey-hideout solved, Mrs. Gaikis confirmed a late evening delivery time
with Mr. Tate and then concentrated on arranging tables and centerpiece
decorations.
**********
Since
the Mosquito Creek Detective Club was formed, after solving the mystery of a
seven year disappearance, Joey had never kept anything from anyone else in the
club and to his knowledge none of the other members had either. And after the
attempted train hijacking before Christmas two years before, they had all vowed
to speak up no matter how silly an idea, or how ridiculous any theory might
sound.
Three
days after Heritage Toys’ had hosted their community open-house Joey was still
bothered by what he overheard, but still torn about his rush to a conclusion
that could so easily be very wrong.
He
hurried through the side doors of La Barge Junior-Senior High School to make
his morning class on time. He wished he’d ridden his bike despite the three
inches of new snow.
The
second bell sounded as he turned away from his locker and nearly elbowed his
best friend Leif Anderlund in the stomach.
“What
happened to you this morning? I called you’re house, but no one answered not even
Grandma Rosa.”
The
boys hurried to Mr. Hawkins eighth grade chemistry lab. Their assignment was to
type their own blood and complete a report on the properties of blood in the
body.
Arranging the lab equipment, Leif persisted.
“You’ve kinda been somewhere else the last couple of days. Are you okay?”
Joey
looked up from his notes at the long narrow face of the friend he trusted more
than anyone else on Planet Earth.
Leif’s
dark rimmed glasses had slipped part way down his nose. His glasses never stayed
in place not ever, not since kindergarten. Leif wore glasses then too held in
place by a strap around the back of his head so they wouldn’t fall off when he
hung upside down from tree branches.
Grandma
Rosa called the boys “…my little salt and pepper shakers…” when they were much
younger. Leif’s was as pale and fair as Joey was dark and tanned. At thirteen they
weren’t little anymore though Leif’s growth spurt over the last fourteen months
had added another three inches to his height over Joey’s, making him half a
head taller.
“Yeah,
I’m okay. I’m just not sure of something. And it could be nothing. But I’m not
sure how I find out if it’s nothing without causing a whole lot of stupid
excitement…”
“Are
you gentlemen ready for your blood draw?” Mr. Hawkins appeared behind Leif. “I
don’t see any test tubes out and labeled, so I’ll return to your station after
I’m finish at the next one.”
“Wow,
I didn’t see him coming.” Joey blinked several times and then looked around the
room to check if his eyes were working.
Leif
pushed back his stick-straight blond hair and lined up four test tubes. “That
doesn’t surprise me, what you were saying didn’t make sense. What were you talking about?”
**********
Hanna Gaikis and Mia Cho walked with Sonia
Molosky from the grounds of La Barge Junior-Senior High School to Windermere
Elementary.
Sonia
was annoyed that her mother insisted she check on her younger brother Eric.
“Thanks for coming with me. Marc is no prize, but lately Eric’s been a real
chunk of dog poop stuck to my shoe! He won’t listen to Salina, so mom makes me
his warden. If he doesn’t keep up with his homework he might need to repeat
sixth grade.”
The
bell rang and the girls waited by the bike rack for Sonia’s younger siblings to
show. Philip Peters wondered toward them with Joey’s sister Lena.
Sonia
continued. “I can’t go to the turkey-hunt this afternoon because of Eric, but I
know grandpa is taking Marc and Salina. Are either of you going?”
When
Mia shook her head, her long, straight black hair glistened in the mid
afternoon sun. “I promised my dad I’d help in his office. He needs envelops addressed to several
accounting clients. Niki isn’t joining the hunt this year either, she’s helping
mom at the flower shop. Mom needs to finish the last of the table centers then
deliver them to the inn this afternoon.”
Hanna
rolled her eyes and pulled her knitted hat down over her short, brown curly
hair. “I don’t care if I never see another turkey again, alive or stuffed.” She
lowered her voice. “I got no sleep at all last night.”
“It
was my mom’s idea that the inn hide the turkey’s in our root cellar, which as
you know is right below my room. We thought the stupid birds would just go to
sleep, but oh no they got all upset because they were in a strange place – can
you even believe that!”
“When
Mom called Mr. Tate he told us to keep the light on for them. Naturally with a
light bulb glowing they stayed awake, and warbling, and scratching, and
whatever else turkeys do. I think I’ll just eat mashed potatoes and salad
tomorrow.”
Mia’s
sister Niki waved as she and Salina came out the door zipping up their jackets
against the sharp fall air. Sonia’s youngest brother Marc appeared next
dragging his backpack behind him.
Sonia
hurried to Marc. “Did you see Eric?”
He
grinned. “Yup. He ran back for his extra homework when he saw you through the
door windows. He knew he was busted.”
“Uncle Bruce!”
Everyone turned to look. Philip had
just pulled his bike from the bike rack when they spotted the mayor walking
across the playground beside his younger brother, Bruce Peters.
Letting his bike fall to the ground,
Philip ran to greet his dad and uncle. “You’re here!” He hit his uncle with the
force of a stampeding calf.
“This
is gonna be the best Thanksgiving and best Christmas and best New Years and best
everything ever, ever, ever!”
He gave his dad a hug then his uncle
again. “Dad you never told me. Did you know? Was this a surprise?”
The
mayor shrugged. “I didn’t know. Your Uncle Bruce surprised me too. He took two
buses to get here from Fremont. He served his twelve months and he’s now a
free man. Go pick up your bike and then we can surprise your mom and older
brothers.”
Philip
Cooper Peters, the adopted son of the mayor and his wife seemed to start life
with many strikes against him. Born with Down’s syndrome, to a single mother
who later died – he had become everyone’s
son.
Officially
he had his own room at the mayor’s house - unofficially he stayed or ate with
several families besides his parents.
Philip
couldn’t stand still. “You’re just in time for the turkey-search this
afternoon, Uncle Bruce and tomorrow we’re all going to eat at the ranch!”
This year only eleven guests had
signed up in teams along with four teams of locals. The ‘searchers’ were fewer
in number, but ready for the challenge. Gordon McKenna with his youngest sister
Alyson were in Team A. Salina Molosky
with Gordon’s other sister Gillian McKenna were Team B. Marc Molosky with Philip Peters were Team C and Joey Salas with his sister Lena were Team D.
Zara
Grant handed out closed envelopes with the clues written below a small map of
the search area for each team. “The clues are in no particular order, so don’t
be fooled by that.”
Philip
took one look at the map and remembered Hanna’s conversation with Mia and
Sonia. He elbowed Marc whispering, “I know where those turkeys are. Let’s go.”
With
everyone else facing Ms. Grant, the boys backed out of the dining room through
the double French doors to the east deck.
“There
is a prize that goes to the winning ‘searcher’, Zara continued. “For registered
guests there’s a free weekend of their choice any time in 2001. For a local
team,” she realized all the local teams were kids, “anything from the train and
dollhouse table display at Heritage Toys. So, good luck.”
It took a few minutes for the rest
of the competitors to study their copy of the map and compare it to the clues.
Then slowly everyone filed out through the dining room door into the lobby and
outside to a flagstone patio at the north side of the inn.
Zara
Grant, Grandpa Molosky and Mayor Peters followed at a slight distance watching
as most of the teams wandered in the same general northwesterly direction.
When
Mrs. Gaikis’ log cabin came into view everyone was startled by the sound of Marc’s
distressed scream followed by Philip’s panicked shouts.
From
the back of the cabin dashed eight - very fat, very tense, very frantic
gobbling birds fleeing for freedom in eight different directions - chased by
two flustered young boys.
The
birds were berserk half running, half flying taking haphazard darting routes
and out distancing their pursuers with every step. There was absolutely no way
anyone on foot was ever going to catch up to any of the hysterical turkeys.
Zara,
grandpa and the mayor watched the scattering of dust and feathers in disbelief.
All
eight birds were gaining their liberty, which meant the inn’s main course for
Thanksgiving dinner was literally bolting for the forest along the Montana foothills.
Mayor
Peters turned to Zara. “Isn’t that the same cabin where Susan and Hanna Gaikis
live?
Zara
Grant nodded.
Where
were the turkeys hidden?”
With
a heavy sigh, Zara cringed. “Susan volunteered her root cellar.”
When
both Marc and Philip stopped chasing after the evading birds they spotted the
other turkey search teams hurrying in their direction.
“Run for it Marc! We’re in trouble!”
Philip started back toward the log cabin.
Marc
didn’t even try. He knew he couldn’t hide or out run any of the advancing
people, not even his grandpa and certainly not Gordon McKenna. And his other
sister Salina marched toward him with an expression on her face that told him
he’d need to keep out of her way and on guard for many, many weeks.
“Philip! Stop now! Get back here!”
The mayor’s voice boomed across the open field of tall wild grass.
Philip stopped, but hesitated
looking over his shoulder in the direction the turkeys had disappeared. He
wished he could fly, or be invisible. But neither wish was an option.
Instead
his Uncle Bruce, who was very experienced in his life of making contrary choices, hurried over. Taking Marc’s
hand then his nephew’s he walked with the two perpetrators toward the inn.
“Here
sit by the fireplace.” Uncle Bruce pointed to an old leather chair that both
boys squeezed into. “Your dad can’t kill
you if you stay in the lobby with all these witnesses.” He winked.
Marc
looked miserable. “Yeah, well my sister won’t care.”
The
mayor and Zara Grant walked in through the north doors, followed by a few
guests who scattered in other directions. Grandpa Molosky had stopped just
outside the door talking to the kids from the other teams.
“See,”
Marc pointed, “my grandpa is my only hope.”
Ms.
Grant sat in a chair next to Uncle Bruce. The mayor sat on the raised hearth.
Everyone faced the chair where Marc and Philip sat together.
“They
got away on me dad!” Philip blurted.
The
mayor looked past his youngest son. “Is that what happened Marc?”
Marc
looked at Philip.
“Those
birds were big and mean and we didn’t stand a chance. We coulda been killed!”
Phillip pressed their case.
Marc
looked down at his hands.
The
mayor sensed there was more to it. He waited.
“I
have Down’s syndrome ya know. This wasn’t my fault.” Philip hoped he might get
Ms. Zara’s sympathy.
Ms.
Grant looked confused and turned to the mayor. “What’s he saying?”
Mayor
Peters shook his head. “Oh no...You don’t get to play that card mister. That’s
a flimsy excuse, not an explanation. I can see one or two of the turkeys
escaping, but not all eight of them when all you had to do was reclose the root
cellar doors.”
Marc spoke up. “At first we thought
it would be funny if we let all the birds go free, not just one. But they were pretty
cranky after being in the root cellar all night. When we opened the doors the
first two came after us, so we had to run too then the rest just took off.”
“Traitor,” Philip pouted.
The mayor turned to his brother and
Ms. Grant. “Bruce you’ll need to drive into town and help Zara pick up seven
frozen turkey’s from Safeway. Silas Tate sold all of his roasting turkeys so he
has no extras.
A
couple of hours in your hot tub Zara should get them thawed enough to stuff
then cook in the outdoor ovens.”
“As for you two,” he turned back to
his son and Marc Molosky. “You have about fifty pounds of potatoes to wash and
peel for the Thanksgiving meal tomorrow. The inn is feeding seventy-six
people.”
**********
NOVEMBER
26
The
warm scent of sage, mingled with cinnamon and pumpkin greeted everyone who came
through the front lobby of the inn to the dining room. A twenty-foot buffet
table stood laden with salads, main dishes, breads, ham and turkey that
stretched along the south wall. It extended to a raised counter that was jammed
with iced sugar cookies, pudding filled tart shells, and fruit pies.
The
Salas family, were the first local guests to arrive. Owning and running a
restaurant of their own, Grandma Rosa and Granddad Ricardo Salas were two of
the few who truly appreciated having food prepared for them for a change.
Joey
looked around disappointed that no one from the Molosky, the Anderlund or Cho
families had yet arrived. He hardly noticed the red, gold and orange fall decorations
– he was still too bothered and puzzled by what he overheard just outside the
office at Heritage Toys four days before.
He
decided to share what he heard with Mia, Leif and Sonia for their point of
view. The last event the disbanded club needed was another incident of criminal
activity in Mosquito Creek. Joey was nervous and he needed his friends to
assure him they thought there was really nothing sinister in what he heard -
that there was likely a very simple explanation…
His
dad, his younger sister Lena and both his grandparents were on the east deck
looking over the display of hay bales, carved pumpkins and stuffed scarecrows.
The day was sunny, but the temperature was a sharp cold just above freezing.
Hanna Gaikis and her mother finished filling glasses of ice water set around
each of the ten tables.
“I’m
so hungry I could eat a chair.” Leif Anderlund’s older brother Stephen stopped
beside Joey. When Stephen pulled off his toque static electricity crackled and
his sugar colored hair stood at attention.
With
commotion behind him, Joey turned to see registered guests join local guests as
the dining room suddenly filled with people and chatter. It was Thanksgiving
and he tried to relax and enjoy a cherished national holiday. He spotted Mia
hanging up her coat and his heart beat faster.
Comments
Post a Comment