The Case of the Old Man in the Mailbox

by Brian C. Jacobs

  Chapter 9

  Stop and Smell the Trees

  As the bus entered our neighborhood, my heart felt like it was fighting to pound its way out of my chest. I was so excited and anxious that I felt like I could get out and run faster than the bus, which meandered its way towards our bus stop.

  Normally, I would head to my house, drop off my backpack in my bedroom, and grab a piece of fruit off the kitchen counter before rushing on over to Scooter’s house for some afternoon football or computer games. But not today! As soon as the bus doors opened—actually, slightly before they were completely open—the three of us squeezed out the door and started sprinting towards Scooter’s house as fast as we could with our heavy backpacks swinging back and forth behind us.

  We didn’t even go inside when we reached Scooter’s house, we just ran around to the backyard, dumped our backpacks on the back porch, and bolted across our football lawn toward the tree that clearly had Mr. Mathisen’s attention. And now it had ours.

  As is usually the case when any race is involved, AJ was the first one there. And by the time Scooter and me came around to the backside of the tree, AJ was already on all fours with his nose just inches from the ground. He looked like a hunting dog sniffing around looking for a scent. After a few seconds, he stood back up and declared, “Well, guys, I don’t smell anything out of the ordinary!”

  “So it doesn’t smell any different than all the other trees you’ve sniffed?” I joked.

  AJ chuckled, “No, I mean, I don’t smell any strong odors. You know, like cleaning supplies or other stuff that would make you sick if you weren’t out in the fresh air. And it doesn’t smell like he was using this tree as his bathroom, either.”

  “Hopefully, you verified that before you stuck your nose that close to the ground,” Scooter teased. That got a laugh from all three of us.

  “Let’s keep looking around,” he continued. “If my theory is correct and he is leaving something fairly large here every night, then we might see an imprint in the dirt, or maybe a scrape on the tree, or a spot on the ground that has been shielded from the rain more than the ground around it.”

  Scooter and me got on our hands and knees to get a closer look at potential clues. Meanwhile, AJ just stood, staring at the tree. Suddenly, he said, “Guys, we were wrong. Mathisen wasn’t leaving something out here when he came to the shelter; he was leaving something here when he left the shelter, and picking it up before he went back inside.”

  I looked up. “AJ, what are you talking about?”

  Scooter said, “If that were the case, then this big object we’re looking for would be here right now.”

  “I never claimed it was big. But you’re right about it being here. Look!” AJ exclaimed, pointing at the tree trunk right in front of him.

  Scooter and me scrambled to our feet to look where AJ was pointing. Sure enough, hanging on a nail in the tree was a dull silver key!

  “Oh my goodness, Aidge! Do you know what this means?” Scooter shouted. “Mr. Mathisen must hang the key here to make sure he doesn’t lose it while he tromps through the woods.”

  “It also means he isn’t home right now, so come on!” AJ grabbed the key and headed for the blackberries.

  Scooter stopped him with a shout. “Wait, AJ! We can’t all just dive down that ladder. What if Mathisen comes back while we’re down there?”

  He had a good point. I could just imagine Mr. Mathisen coming up behind us after we went down the ladder, slamming the lid shut, and sitting on it until we ran out of air to breathe. It would be like being buried alive! I am not a complete claustrophobic, but sometimes my imagination can scare me more than reality can. Anyway, the thought made me shudder. So while I was getting the heebie-jeebies, AJ made his way back to us and the tree.

  “So what are we going to do, then?” he asked.

  “Well, one of us will have to stay here and be lookout while the other two go check out the shelter,” said Scooter.

  “One-two-three-not-it!” I shouted.

  “Not it!” AJ followed.

  “No, no, let’s do this fair and square,” Scooter countered.

  I wasn’t sure if Scoot really wanted it to be fair or if he was just making up rules, since he clearly just lost the “Not It!” game. That’s sort of like when you make up stories about getting car-sick unless you sit in the front seat, when you clearly just forgot to call “Shotgun!” before someone else did.

  Scooter continued, “I know how we can decide this fairly. I have forty cents in my pocket left over from buying a soda at lunch today—a nickel, a dime, and a quarter. I will put one coin in my left hand and one in my right, and the last one will stay in my pocket. We will all choose a coin, and whoever picks the quarter will have to stay behind and be lookout. Will that work? Good. I’ll pick first.”

  “You can’t go first!” AJ argued. “You’re the one who’s putting the coins there in the first place, so you would know which place not to pick. No sir, I’ll go first! Cheating lard-monkey!”

  “Fine,” Scooter said, looking dejected. He reached into his pocket and pulled out two of the coins and quickly put one in each hand. He then held both hands out in front of AJ. “Left, Right, or Pocket?”

  AJ took a second and then slapped the back of Scooter’s left hand really hard. Scooter yelped and then turned his hand over to reveal the quarter. He tossed it at AJ. “Nice guess, wise guy. And by the way, you hit like a girl.”

  Yeah, I thought, a really strong girl. I could see the red mark on Scooter’s hand.

  Scooter grabbed the key from AJ and started to walk away. He turned back to AJ and taunted him once more. “Hey, while you are on lookout, try not to look like it. Act like you are doing something else like, uh, doing push-ups or pull-ups on a tree branch or something. We don’t want to raise any suspicion if Mathisen comes back soon; we just want him to decide the coast isn’t clear and he will have to come back later.”

  Scooter started walking again, and as I hurried to catch up to him, I could hear AJ complaining. “Shoot! I knew I should have picked the right hand!”

  Scooter muttered under his breath, just loud enough for my benefit, “That would not have done any good.” He smirked and opened his right hand to reveal another quarter.

  “Dude, that is wrong,” I chuckled.

  “Not nearly as wrong as this.” He snickered as he pulled yet another quarter out of his pocket. “I actually had seventy-five cents in my pocket! He was going to lose no matter what he chose.”

  I made a mental note to never mess with Scooter—unless, of course, I could frame AJ.

  We opened the “blackberry door” and crouched our way through the tunnel until we were huddled over the metal plate. Then, Scooter stopped me. “So remember, don’t touch anything more than we have to, and definitely don’t move anything. We don’t want Mathisen to even know we were here.”

  I nodded and opened the lid.

  As we both stood above the hole, I realized we had overlooked a big necessity, a flashlight. We could barely see the bottom of the ladder from up above, and once we opened the door with the key, it would be even harder to see because there would be no light coming from directly above. I suggested to Scooter that we get a flashlight.

  He shrugged me off. “We don’t have time. Mr. Mathisen could be coming back any minute, so we will just have to make do.”

  We scrambled down the ladder, and while Scooter worked the key into the vault door, I imagined us feeling our way through the dark, bumping into things, kicking things we couldn’t see on the other side of the door. So much for leaving things exactly the way they were!

  As Scooter turned the key, he looked back at me and smiled. He pushed down on the lever, took a deep breath, and said, “Here we go…” as he pulled the large door toward us.