Book 6 "GRANDMA'S RED CONVERTIBLE"

*The beloved grandmother of Joey Salas suffered a stroke in January. By August, unable to convince his dad and granddad that his grandmother should be recovering at home in Mosquito Creek, Joey and his best friend Leif Anderlund -with only their learners permits - sneak out driving grandma's red VW Bug convertible to 'spring' her from the rehab clinic. While trying to elude any parental detection and highway state patrol - Joey and Leif take a wrong turn.

They follow a winding road that is anything but a shortcut to Montana's capital city, Helena. Instead the novice road explorers discover desperate kidnappers holding the governor's kid sister hostage. Completely on their own Joey and Leif must use every resource they have, to save themselves and the terrified captive. When everyone's path crosses that of a pack of wolves, it is a toss up as to which adversary the boys prefer to face... [eBook copy $1.00]

CHAPTER 1

MIA’S MAGIC…

 Hey Patrick, we’re back at school! But that wasn’t the only reason I haven’t emailed for a few weeks. I couldn’t get to a computer with AOL - but - before that almost everyone in our entire town was occupied with a massive search just before the Labor Day holiday here.

As I wrote before, in July it had been real quiet, like fall asleep-standing-up kind of quiet, since New Years.

And I don’t understand why, but for a small town in the foothills of Montana - Mosquito Creek seems to search for missing people a lot. Maybe you heard about it on the news over there - or maybe not.

I’ll mail a copy of our newspaper and the Helena Independent Record, and a USA TODAY copy. Yeah we made it into a national paper again cause this was pretty major – again! [America On Line, September 2000]

August 2000… 

Just before sunrise, two shadowy figures pushed a small red car from a dark garage into an alley. Soundlessly the hinged garage doors were reclosed and then bolted from the inside.

To the east a thin pink line formed by a new sun that hinted at a perfect August day to come.

The shadowy figure on the left side of the car pressed a button and the black canvas top began to fold into a neat pleat. With the top down the figure on the left and the figure on the right continued pushing the car in the direction of the slowly rising sun.

When both figures pushing the car had reached the end of the alley, the person on the driver’s side of the car turned the steering wheel to the right. The car was pointed in a new direction. With the hill out of town below them, both figures hop into the front bucket seats to coast another three blocks away from the garage. At the bottom of the hill the driver started the engine of the little red car. 

With a high-five slap they realized their secret operation was a success and they had made it completely undetected. The driver accelerated toward the county road that paralleled Lost Creek.

After reaching the county road the driver turned north, while to the east the pink line faded and began to widen to a streak of deep orange.

They thought their cover story gave them a good eight hour head start. That was more than enough time because they would be back long before diner and no one would even notice the car was missing.

**********

“I’m going to do everyone’s astrological chart.” Mia Cho had abruptly opened the back door. She stood in the doorway of the combination mail-room lunch-room of the Mosquito Creek Review newspaper office. 

Gordon McKenna was filling the paper tray of the photocopier. He couldn’t have been more surprised if, with her unannounced arrival, she had shown up with her long, straight black hair dyed a bright pink.

“Do you suppose I could write a horoscope column in the paper, say each month?”

Gordon frowned, brushing back his thick dark auburn hair before collecting the receipts he’d copied for his grandfather. “Man you must be bored if you’re looking to do horoscopes. Those things are bunk.”

She followed him into the long, wide newsroom of the weekly newspaper.  Gordon’s grandfather Park Sullivan was leaning over the fifteen foot layout table that occupied most of the area in the center of the room, spacing ad copy. 

The forty foot by eighteen foot room had a drafting table, file cabinets against the south wall beside shelves crammed with reference books, maps, and past editions of the paper.

A counter for customers was just inside the west facing front door.

The editor’s office was on the north-west corner of the building. Next to the office, was a former closet turned photography dark room and then the lunchroom, with fridge, coffee pot, photocopier, and postage supplies.

Wide double doors at the back of the newspaper office led to a narrow shipping dock to the east side for loading, and unloading bundles of papers ready for delivery.

“Good morning Mr. Sullivan.”

The newspaper editor looked up. “Mia, nice to see you. Gordon, do know where Philip’s gone to?”

Gordon had a growth spurt after his fifteenth birthday and was only three inches shorter than his grandfather’s six feet.  “I think he might be at his dad’s hardware store, or Mr. Hawkins’ house.”

“Philip and Eric Molosky have a job painting Mr. Hawkins’ backyard fence.” Gordon filed the copied receipts into that month’s expense folder.

Park Sullivan looked down at the mock-up pages before him with his hands on his hips. “They better do a good job. It won’t go well if they mess up their science teacher’s fence.”

“Please, give the store a call, I need Philip back here. This photo for Wally’s Pool & Pizza ad is too blurry. I need him to reshoot it.”

The newspaper office was in a low brick building on the far northeast corner of Main Street that ran north and south through Mosquito Creek. Mayor Peters’ hardware store was two blocks south and then another two blocks west on the corner of Center Street.

“Sorry Mia.” The editor smiled. “What brings you here?”

“You’re gonna be sorry you asked Grandfather.” Gordon picked up the phone receiver at the front counter. 

“So this is a business visit, then.” The tall, slim grey haired man took off his bifocal glasses and tucked them into his white shirt pocket.

“Well yes I guess it is.” Mia carried two thick, worn and old looking books. “I had an idea for a new column that might be fun for our readers…”

“Our readers?” Gordon interrupted then the line at the hardware end of the phone was answered. 

Mr. Sullivan suppressed his impulse to smile.

Mia shot Gordon an expression of impatience. “O-k-a-y Mr. Accuracy, the Review’s readers.”

“Anyway, I bought these fabulous antique books all about the stars, and cycles of the moon and the Zodiac from Dr. Howes’ garage sale in June.”

“After I read them, Mrs. Howes told me they belonged to her grandmother, who was very insightful. So, I thought I’d do the astrological charts of everyone in the Detective Club first and then write about them. When other people in town read them they would get the idea of what I was doing. Then, maybe the readers would write to the newspaper for their charts too.” 

Gordon finished his call and replaced the receiver. “Mia, dearest, old, friend…”

Mia interrupted him. “No-o-o! Don’t you dare. Don’t you dare cop a sarcastic attitude with me…”

Gordon was undeterred.  “…this is a newspaper, Mia. The operative word being - news.”

But then to his amazement Gordon saw his grandfather nodding. “You can’t seriously be considering this idea.” His changing voice went up an octave. 

“Well yes, actually I am. Your grandmother and your mom wanted to start the recipe page again right after Labor Day. There’s only another two weeks before school starts, so I can use something new in that space until then. I’ve been setting in fillers like a crossword puzzle and short Associated Press features.”

“Let’s give it a try and see how it goes. If it does well then we can arrange regular space for it on the recipe page.”

Rarely was Mia Cho speechless, but at this moment she stood mute looking from Gordon McKenna to Mr. Sullivan with her mouth open.

“Okay young lady it’s Monday morning,” the editor checked his watch, “at 9:36 AM. Your deadline for weekly submissions is noon every Wednesday in order to make our Thursday print day and then Friday’s distribution.”

“Mia!” Gordon clapped his hands. “Do you need oxygen or something?”

“No, wise guy.”

Mr. Sullivan continued. “Every Wednesday morning, I expect one typed eight by eleven sheet of paper with no more than 250 words. I’ll pay you fifteen cents per published word to start.”

“Each week?”

“Yes, each week. That’s approximately thirty-seven dollars and fifty cents for each column.” 

“Guess I better get to work.” She hugged her prized garage sale books on astrology and tarot card reading.

Mr. Sullivan teased. “Guess with crime a little slow these days for the seven of you sleuths, all of you need to find legitimate work, huh? Though I admit Gordon’s been valuable help since school ended in May and so has Philip.”

Mia nodded. “Yeah, it’s been a real quiet eight months. I’m at my aunt’s fabric store every Saturday, but not at mom’s flower shop, only Niki works there during the week.”

“And it’s been a stupendously boring summer! My Dad keeps me busy in his office, but just Thursday and Friday.”

“Oh, that reminds me,” Mr. Sullivan interrupted to write accounting on a yellow Post-It. “I’ve got some receipts to get to your dad this week.”

 “S-t-u-d-e-n-d-o-u-s! I like that word.” Philip Peters stood grinning just inside the newspaper office front door. His slight lisp caught on the beginning and ending ‘S’. “That’ll be my new word today.” 

Philip’s brown curly hair was almost completely covered by a white painters’ cap. Over his t-shirt and jeans he wore coveralls blotched by various shades of old dried paint – it was three sizes too big. With the wide pant legs rolled up several turns, he had a distinctive penguin walk.

“You look like some kind of weird party balloon.” Mia frowned

Philip waddled to the layout table. “It’s for painting. My Uncle Bruce found it in the back of the store.”

“Well he should have left it in the back of the store.” Mia was feeling proud and quite self important at the moment.

Mr. Sullivan decided to step in. “See this ad photo here?”

Philip leaned closer. “Oops it’s out of focus.”

“Precisely my number one photographer,” the editor pursed his lips.

Philip looked up at the editor with his hands in his pockets. “I think I’m your only photographer.” He tried to wink but both lids closed.

“Regardless, I need you to give Wally a call and tell him you must get back there, now.”

“But I’m ready to meet Eric. Uncle Bruce is delivering the paint to Mr. Hawkins!”

Mr. Sullivan took a deep breath. “Well take off this ships’ sail you’re wearing, get back on your bike and swing by the Hawkins’ house on your way to Wally’s. Let Eric know you’ll be starting late. But, after you’re done at Wally’s come directly back here with all of the cameras. My photo first - then Mr. Hawkins’ fence second.”

Philip’s Down syndrome rarely prevented him from tackling almost anything, but his instructions always needed to be specific.

The editor needed to finish his work. “Mia, don’t you need to be doing something somewhere too? And - Gordon, don’t you have an interview with the mayor at ten o’clock?” 

Philip was out of the painter’s coveralls, but still wore his cap as he checked the film in his camera bag. “My dad’s not at the town hall. He’s working at the store with Grandpa Molosky and Uncle Bruce today.” 

The editor returned to his page layouts.

Thirty minutes later when the editor’s wife Lorraine and his daughter, Gordon’s mother, Maureen returned from selling more newspaper ad space – Park Sullivan was working at the layout table in total peace and quiet.

**********

Sonia Molosky was answering her mother’s office phone when Mia burst through the door as if she was chased by hornets.

With her dark blonde hair pulled into a high ponytail Sonia listened to her mother’s business caller with her eyes closed so she wasn’t distracted by Mia’s panicked expression and hand gestures. “When did you want to list your house to sell Mrs. Hollings?” 

“Do you need to buy something smaller, or rent?” Sonia carefully wrote her mother a detailed note. “Okay. Let me take down your phone number. I expect Ursula Molosky back in the office in about another hour. Yes, she’ll be able to call you back by 4PM, Mrs. Hollings. Thank you for calling Molosky & Molosky Real Estate ma’am.”

Sonia replaced the receiver. “Are you having a brain spasm or something!”

“You can’t do that when I’m here, on my mother’s office phone! I need to be professional on this phone or my mother will make my life even more like a bad case of stomach flu than my younger brothers do!”

Mia’s response was a flustered stream of words shot like bullets. “I can’t reach Joey!” 

“I can’t find him anywhere in town!”

“I can’t find Leif either!”

“Nobody’s seen them all day!”

“Joey told his Granddad Salas, and Leif told his dad that they were painting Mr. Hawkins’ back fence! But only Philip and your brother Eric are in Mr. Hawkins’ back yard...” Mia voice faded as she slumped into the chair at the table with the office computer.

Sonia looked at her best friend confused. “O-kay?” 

“You remember my horoscope column idea?”

Sonia nodded.

“Mr. Sullivan liked it, so I decided to do Joey’s chart first and he’s in a lot of trouble.”

“No! He’s actually in danger! According to the position of his opposing planets he’ll be confronted by a very negative energy that could reverse all of his plans.”

Sonia shook her head. “I knew it. I just knew this would happen when you started reading that stuff. That’s not doing a horoscope Mia that’s fortune telling and unless you have some Chinese gypsy ancestors – I’m pretty sure you don’t have-the-gift.”

Mia sat up defensive. “I only went where the stars pointed.”

“Well what about Leif, is he in danger too?”

“I only just started his chart. But so far his sign and Joey’s sign aren’t compatible.”

“That shows you right there that where those stars are pointing is questionable.”

“They’ve been best friends since Pre-School – we all have. If our signs aren’t compatible by this time, it’s too late cause we’re in grade nine and ten now. Does our horoscope say we should dissolve the Club?”

Mia looked uneasy. “It wasn’t just Joey’s horoscope…”

“No, don’t tell me. You pulled out those Tarot cards again, didn’t you?”

Mia nodded. “But it’s not just the stars or the cards, I’m sure something’s wrong. I have a really bad feeling about Joey, actually both of them.”

“Leif was supposed to work at his dad’s market. Joey was supposed to help at his granddad’s restaurant. But for some reason they both lied to everyone.”

A single tear slid down Mia’s cheek. “Joey lied to me!”

CHAPTER TWO

DRIVING LESSONS

 

Even a full hour after sunrise it was still too cool along the Rocky Mountain foothills to drive with a convertible top open, but Joey Salas and Leif Anderlund were reluctant to close in the car’s canvas roof.

Instead they pulled toques over their ears, zipped up their jackets and kept driving north - intoxicated by the adventure and a freedom they had never experienced before. 

After crossing several east-west county roads, Joey didn’t want to risk missing the correct turn. “What’s the county road number that’ll take us directly east to Helena?”

Leif opened the center console and pulled out the folded road map for the state of Montana. The wind was only 10MPH but driving at 60MPH created its own additional wind. When Leif unfolded the map he held it above the windshield just a little too far and air currents snatched it from his hands. The map flew well over their heads and high into the sky behind them. 

“Yikes, stop the car!” Leif twisted in his seat to follow the direction the paper flew, carried on the air like a lone wing.

Inexperienced, Joey panicked slamming on the brakes. The tires of the small car spun on loose gravel along the road’s shoulder as if it was ice. After they stopped the car’s headlights faced into a ditch and the rear was still part way on the road. 

Shaken, but unhurt they took stock.

“Did you see where the map went?” With the engine still running, Joey moved the gear to reverse and slowly backed onto the narrow blacktop county road.

“Sort of, that way.” Leif pointed south. “It’s back the way we came, but it couldn’t be too far.”

Joey steered the car around to face south again. Slowly he drove back, all the way to three previous county intersections they had already crossed. 

The boys saw no sign of the map until Joey turned around to head north once more retracing their most recent miles.

“There it is!” Leif spotted the partially torn map in a grouping of several birch trees. 

Caught high on one of the upper branches was their map, impaled on a broken branch.

Joey slowed pulling the car to the side then stopped. “Do you think you could climb that tree to get it?”

They both got out and headed toward a pasture fence. A large herd of Black Angus cattle grazed between them and the birch trees. 

Joey tried to widen and hold the middle and lower strands of barbed wire, but the fence had been newly strung and the strands were too tight. “Maybe there’s a gate further down.” 

“Never mind looking for a gate,” Leif spotted something else and pointed toward the trees.  “I’m not even going to try to get by that.”

There was something else much larger than the peacefully grazing cows in this pasture.

Joey had never seen a bull so massive. “Holy molly he looks half the size of your dad’s produce truck!”

“Listen, all county roads either go north-south or east-west.” Leif waved his arms with Christopher Columbus logic.

“Let’s just keep driving north until we feel like we should turn east. We’ll either run into Helena or over shoot the capitol. If we’re too far north then we simply drive south a little farther. It shouldn’t be that difficult.”

**********

Just before dawn the hooded driver of a stolen late model Jeep turned on the interior light of a rented double car garage.

Moving carefully he and his two accomplices carried, an unconscious body from the back of the stolen jeep into a white delivery van painted with a local dry cleaning company logo. 

The body wrapped in a light canvas tarp was then placed in a long narrow plywood box marked Supplies. With the lid closed and locked – they waited and listened. Hearing no sirens they checked for any other vehicles in the alley.

With the alley still shadowed and vacant the driver drove out of the garage closing the door with a remote. They reached Carson Street just as two patrol cars raced by with their lights flashing and high pitched sirens whining.

Waiting another few minutes, the driver turned onto Carson Street heading in the opposite direction of the patrol cars. Not wanting to attract any attention, the driver steered his way north across town unhurried. 

As the sun’s first rays touched the capitol city’s roof tops, the driver stopped the van at the last mail box to post the ransom letter just before they reached Helena’s city limits. Still driving in light traffic, the driver turned onto the first county road that headed directly west toward the Rocky Mountain foothills. 

**********

“Okay. So, Helena is only like fifty-six miles from Mosquito Creek, as the crow flies at an angle.” Leif pushed his black rimmed glasses up the bridge of his nose checking his watch.

“We left your house two hours ago. We should already be only a few blocks from your Grandma Rosa’s rehab clinic, eating breakfast at the Rocking “R” Café.”

Joey gave his best friend a side glance. “We lost at least thirty or forty minutes looking for our only map that flew into a tree back there - several miles behind us.” He indicated tilting his head.

With his toque thrown in the backseat the wind flipped up then dropped large clumps of Joey’s short, straight black hair in random places across the top of his head. The sun had begun to warm them in the open car and Leif threw his knitted hat onto the narrow backseat beside Joey’s.

Leif’s fine, sugar colored hair lay flattened by the wool. “I know, but I’m s-o h-u-n-g-r-y. Guess we should have brought some snacks.”

At the next intersection of county roads, Joey stopped his grandmother’s beloved cranberry red, Volkswagen Beetle. “Well, do you think we should turn east here or drive further north to the next one?”

“I don’t think it would matter if we go one more. With only our learners’ permits, we really, really, really don’t want to accidently go anywhere near the interstate.”

“Excellent point.”

When they reached the next county road intersection, Joey didn’t stop. This time he merely slowed the car then turned east. But after driving five miles farther they ran out of road. 

Gold Creek cut through part of that section of land at an angle creating a deep gully, a quarter mile wide. Because the area was remote and travelled only by local farmers and ranchers the state hadn’t built a bridge across Gold Creek to connect the county road where Joey had turned.

“Rats!” Joey thumped the steering wheel coming to a stop. “At this rate we won’t get to Helena until lunch!”

“Ugh!” Leif dropped his head forward. “I’ll have starved to death by then!” 

“Hey,” Joey pointed to his left, “maybe that ranch road is a short cut to the next east-west county road. What da’ya think?”

Leif shrugged, drinking more water. “Sure, why not.” He rummaged in the center console and found three wrapped mints.  “Taking that road couldn’t be any worse than where we are right now.” He popped a mint into his mouth.

Driving down a slight dip, Joey followed the part gravel, part dirt road that paralleled Gold Creek. Thick trees grew to their left with the deep gully to their right. Just two hundred feet in Joey realized the road had become too narrow to turn around. Committed he just kept driving. 

Watching the narrow road so intently, they didn’t realize until another full hour had past, that this road not only wasn’t a short cut, but they were heading west away from Helena. With a slight break in the trees, they came to a crest in the road overlooking a shallow meadow. A low ridge of birch, maple and spruce surrounded the meadow on three sides with Gold Creek to the east.

“I was so wrong,” Leif sighed, “Talking this road did get worse.”

“I could turn around down there.” Joey peered out through the dusty windshield over the hood of the little car.”

Leif unbuckled his seatbelt and stood up to look out over the top of the wind shield. “There’s no more road down there. The road ends right where we are here.” He sat again folding his long lanky legs back into the space in front of the passenger seat.

“Are you sure?” Joey opened the driver’s door, got out and stretched. He was a half a head shorter that Leif, but the tension of driving had left the muscles in his back and legs feeling cramped. 

Leif had been right. Just six feet beyond the VW’s front bumper the ranch road ended. As he turned to go back to the car something that wasn’t native to either the meadow or ranching caught his eye. At the far end of the meadow he saw the roof a white delivery van with the upper half of a familiar logo printed just below the roof line.

**********

Three men rested on one side of the white van. The driver felt lucky to have coasted to the entrance of a pasture side road, so they were well out of sight from the paved county road.

“Damn, how far did we push this tub?” Bob had collapsed on his back in the tall grass.

Kenny leaned against the rear bumper then slipped down to sit on the dirt road behind the van. “I don’t understand how we could have run out of gas in the first place.” His remark was made through clenched teeth not looking at the driver.

Lloyd had no idea either, but he was in no mood to debate. He had filled the tank the day before. He hadn’t smelled a fuel leak in the garage. “Somehow we must have hit something somewhere that put a small hole in the gas tank.”

‘Damn, damn, damn’ he thought, ‘this is a real mess, now.’ Lloyd slid open the side door then unlocked the lid of the wooden box.

Their reluctant passenger - who was supposed to be their meal-ticket was regaining consciousness. “Hey, Kenny.

Kenny didn’t move.

Lloyd yelled again. “Get up off your butt and help me lift her out. If she smothers she’s no good to us.”  

  

Unwrapped, the abducted kid sister of Montana’s governor was muzzled, blindfolded with her hands bound by duct tape.

Lloyd walked their captive, still wobbly from the sedative to sit in the tall grass at the front of the van.

**********

“Come look at this! I hope I’m seeing things.”

“Unless you’re seeing some local rancher setting up a barbeque for ribs, and steak, and hamburger,” Leif took another long swallow of water, “I’m not interested.”

“Let’s just go back. If we run out of gas then we can’t even get to Aspen Cottage to spring your grandmother. And then we get grounded anyway with nothing to show for this zany idea of yours – that, I, was dumb enough to listen to.”

But Joey barely heard Leif. Just as he was about to return to the car, he witnessed a startling scene by the white dry cleaning van that caused him to hold his breath.On the far north side of the meadow, a bearded man wearing sunglasses led a young woman who was blindfolded with her hands bound, to the front of the van. The man made the woman sit in the grass then walked along the side of the van and disappeared from sight behind some trees. Joey blinked hard several times. Incredibly, he realized he was actually seeing a real live hostage.

“Are you listening to me?” Leif sat up. 

But Joey hadn’t moved and the last time Leif had seen that same expression on Joey’s face was the previous Thanksgiving after he overheard a phone conversation at Heritage Toys.

Leif opened the passenger door and walked to where Joey stood. When he rested an arm on his friend’s shoulder, Joey looked up then pointed.

At first all Leif could see was the white roof and upper half of one side of a parked dry cleaning van. “That is odd. I can hardly think why anyone would be delivering dry cleaning way out here.”

Joey found his voice, but it was just a whisper. “Look at the grass right in front of the van, there.”

“Holy…”  Leif had difficulty getting air. “That’s a person, a woman? She’s tied up and blindfolded. Has she been kidnapped?” His voice almost failed him.

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