by CeeCee James
A few minutes later I was in the tub, my back supported by a little blow-up air pillow, with my phone on a tray before me. Lavender scented steam filled the room.
Okay, time to get back to business. I wiggled my toes in the hot water and checked Trek's World to see if I’d received any answering messages from GettingStamped.
There was nothing. Not even an indication to show if he’d read what I’d sent. Of course, GettingStamped could be a woman. Heck, it could be a ten-year-old kid, for all I knew.
That made me wonder if he used his name elsewhere. I typed in GettingStamped in the search engine to see what it brought up.
It did bring up another forum. It was like the first one I’d found about unsolved riddles. Only this one said, Gamer Easter Eggs revealed.
The front page blew my mind. The title said, “Sacred Sword Riddle Solved?”
I clicked it and eagerly read.
Hey guys, word on the street says there will be a scuba extraction at the lake tomorrow at noon. Are you going to be there?
At the bottom were comments, people saying things like, “The house fits since it once belonged to Ava Summers, the author of the riddle. Her dad owned the Johnson house.”
“Where is it again? Brookfield?”
“I’m totally going to be there!”
“I was there today. None of us found anything. I’m telling you, this is a dead end.”
GettingStamped had posted, “It’s there, folks!”
Was the sword there or was it not? I couldn’t wait until tomorrow. My gosh, what if the divers brought up an ancient sword? What would that even be worth? Millions, probably. Definitely more money than I could imagine. I wondered if the owners would be driving down from New York. Was it going to be another zoo scene like today? There was a security team there, but would that be enough?
Excitement zinged through me as I finally realized what tomorrow might bring. Then, I glanced at the clock, and the euphoric feeling rushed away faster than the water down the drain.
It was nearly time for my date.
I climbed out and was wrapping a towel around me when another thought jumped in my mind. I might know a way I could track GettingStamped down, after all.
I clicked back to Trek's World and typed in his name to see what else he posted. The posts were sparse and mostly located in the role-playing forum. I scanned through them, which consisted mostly of gamer talk and questions.
One of his posts stopped me right away. It said, “Hey, follow me on youtube if you want to see more of my action.”
Well, now. This was exciting. Was I about to identify who GettingStamped really was? I went to the video site and pasted his name in the search bar. The results made me grin.
He had his own channel.
Of course, anyone could get a channel, so I wasn’t sure how big of a deal it was. But there were thirty-two videos listed under his name.
I clicked the first one. I was a little dismayed when I saw it was over an hour long. That was going to be a lot of watching.
The video opened with some cheesy graphics that signified it was definitely produced by an amateur. The next scene was of a role-play game on the video screen. There was no sign of him, but I could hear that he was a man by the narration.
I watched for a few minutes. His comments were very relevant to the game, mostly, “Ha! See that?” His videos seemed to be just about him playing the game and showing people how it was done.
It was about as interesting as watching paint dry, but then again, I didn’t play those games. I’m sure someone out there appreciated it.
I checked to see how many times the video had been viewed. Nearly all were in the hundreds, which was a low amount. I clicked through a few of the comments and didn’t see anything of interest, mostly just of spam advertising other videos.
There was one though, that said, “I knew I’d find you here.” The commenter was anonymous.
Huh. That’s interesting.
It was then I realized I had less than twenty minutes to get ready for dinner. Quickly, I brushed my hair, hoping to make it look decent.
Who was I kidding? At this point, I needed a miracle.
Chapter 13
I was late, but finally arrived at Mrs. Crawford’s house, feeling like something the cat dragged in. I got out of the car and brushed down my skirt. I couldn’t believe I was so nervous. This was ridiculous. I’m fine. I’m completely in control.
I walked up the stairs, suddenly struck with the fear that I might have sweated through my shirt. The imagined wet stains made me groan, and I nearly turned back around. To be honest I might have, except right then the front door opened, bathing me in warm light.
“Stella, is that you dear?” Mrs. Crawford stood in the doorway. As always, she was dressed impeccably. Tonight she wore white silk pants and a long flowing shirt. Her characteristic chunky necklace was blue tonight. “I thought I heard you pull up. Come in! We were just talking about you.”
Talking about me? This just keeps getting better and better. I mustered up a fake smile. Behind her I could see the dark silhouetted form of a man.
“Hi, guys,” I said, trying to keep my voice from wavering. “I’m sorry I’m late. Traffic….” It took every ounce of muscle control to continue up the stairs and work my face to try to appear friendly. That was no easy feat, by the way. My face was famous for showing everything I was thinking, and was also known as the great betrayer.
The scent of simmering chicken greeted me as I got closer to the door. Mrs. Crawford held out a hand.
“You look lovely, dear,” she said with a warm smile and a gentle squeeze.
I swallowed hard and turned to face the blind date she’d set me up with.
“This is David,” she said, indicating the shadowed man with a sweep of her hand.
David stepped forward, dressed as though he’d just walked out of a library or maybe a classroom teaching statistic mathematics. His hair was short, possibly because it was thinning. He was thin himself, with pale skin and a long sharp nose. He reached out to shake, making me note his lanky arms.
To be honest, I was half-offended that Mrs. Crawford thought I would be compatible with him. I could already picture a long evening ahead, filled with nervous clearing of his throat and claustrophobic silences.
“Stella,” he said. “It’s nice to meet you.”
Whoa. His voice took me off guard. It was full-bodied and deep. And was that…an accent? I shook his hand and gave him a second look. His gray eyes held mine in confidence and he gave me a small smile.
“Nice to meet you. I’ve heard nothing but good things.” I said in return.
“Likewise,” he answered, releasing me.
“Well, now, isn’t this nice.” Mrs. Crawford slowly scooted us in further so she could shut the door. “Let’s go sit for a minute and have a glass of wine.”
Wine. Wine would probably help. We followed her into the living room, with its two armchairs and long couch upholstered in expensive white fabric. Every inch of the walls were covered in framed art and golden do-dads displayed on scattered curio shelves.
She pointed to the wine credenza. “David, would you do the honors?” Gracefully, she sat in one of the armchairs and brushed a long brown curl from her shoulder.
“Absolutely,” he said and sprang in that direction. Carefully, he uncorked the bottle from where he’d retrieved it from the ice bucket, and poured three glasses.
I’d chosen the other armchair and smiled as he brought me my glass. He settled on the couch across from me.
The dreadful silence began. Hurriedly, I took a sip and stared into the fireplace flames.
“So, David. You were saying,” Mrs. Crawford prompted.
“Oh!” he scooted to the edge of the sofa and faced me. “I was in the middle of explaining how I got my doctorate in statistics.”
Figures. I knew it.
“Anyway, to treat myself, I ended up traveling around Europe for several months.”
<
br /> “Really!” I said.
“Yeah, it’s been a lot of fun. Ireland was one of my favorite countries.”
“I want to take a trip to Ireland but it will be a while yet before I can.” I noticed I was leaning forward myself, and subtly scooted back in my chair.
“Oh, you never know. Maybe after your first sale.” Mrs. Crawford said, tapping her foot. And then to David, “Stella, here, is a realtor.”
I cringed at how boring that sounded. And I thought a doctorate in Statistics was bad.
His eyebrows raised and he nodded as though fascinated. “I bet you meet some characters in the business, hmm?”
I nodded. “You can’t even imagine. In fact, the latest one I’ve met is dead.”
He’d just taken a sip and sputtered in his glass. “Dead?” he managed to ask after a moment.
“Yes. Most likely murdered,” Mrs. Crawford volunteered for me.
“Well now,” he shook his head. “Seems like there’s more to that job description than meets the eye.”
I quickly filled him in on what had happened the other day.
“So, any suspects?” he asked.
“The police are looking into the man’s neighbor. Roy Merlock is his name. They’ve had a rivalry that’s extended through the generations. Mostly arguing over property lines and such.”
“Hmm, you think Roy killed him in the lake?”
I tried to picture the two old men grappling in the water until Roy finally struck the fatal blow. It just didn’t make sense to me. I shook my head. “But Roy’s been heard to make threats, and he has that old family grudge so…” I trailed off.
“You think he hired someone to do it?”
Now there’s a thought I hadn’t considered. “Maybe.” I nodded. “That would make more sense.”
“Now what about clues. Did you find anything by the lake? Maybe garbage, or something?” David swirled the remainder of wine in his glass.
Well, of course I’d found the flippers and the note, but when he asked that it reminded me of the Dr. Pepper can I’d seen.
“I found a pop can. But there were a lot of cops on the scene when they recovered his body.”
His eyebrows went up like he had an Aha moment. “Statistically, it was unlikely a rescue attendant of any sort would be drinking a soda and then tossing the trash to the ground, especially at a murder scene. I think you may have found yourself a real clue.”
I took a sip, thinking.
“So, where are you from, originally?” he asked, changing the subject.
“Me? Oh, I was actually born here, but I grew up in the northwest.”
“Really? And what part?”
“Just outside Seattle. At the base of the Cascades.”
“It’s beautiful out there,” David noted.
I agreed. “But with your travels, you must see much prettier landscape.”
“Oh, no. I love and appreciate every part I’m fortunate enough to visit. But give me the USA. It’s a gorgeous country. Never underestimate what’s familiar.”
“Have you been to Egypt?” Mrs. Crawford asked in that cool tone of hers.
“I have. One day I plan to go to Israel. I’d loved to see it.”
Excitement curled in my chest. “Me too! The history is amazing.” Being able to join the conversation about a foreign country made me feel so cosmopolitan.
We talked for a while and then eventually moved into the dining room. So far, it really wasn’t so bad. David and I might not be a match made in heaven, but at least I was back in the saddle again. And he was a nice guy. Quiet, a little nerdy, but nice. The chicken fricassee was wonderful, and I laughed more than I’d laughed in a long time. I also went home much later than I’d planned. Which is to say, it was quite a nice night.
Chapter 14
The next morning started with a ton of regrets that I’d chosen to leave the dinner party so late, when the alarm ripped me from my warm bed. Somewhere in the middle of the second glass of wine, I’d forgotten I needed to be up early.
Today was a big day at the Johnson place. In just a few hours, we’d finally learn the secrets under the lake.
I hurried to brush my teeth and dress, then grabbed a granola bar and a travel mug of coffee, and I was on my way. I thought about the clues I knew so far, the flippers, the Dr. Pepper can, the note with the poem on it, the book written by Ava Summers, the daughter of the original owner—that would make her Lenny’s grandma?— and the scuba tank sticker.
I couldn’t wait to find out what was discovered. I wasn’t alone. The Johnson’s driveway was crowded with cars. I’d expected a lot of buzz, but I was surprised to see two local news vans there. Of course, they would come. This was quite the scoop, especially for this little town. If the sword were unearthed, it would make a huge ripple in the historical community at large.
I recognized one of the reporters. She was in her early twenties, blonde, beautiful, although struggling at the moment with the wind whipping her hair in her face. She spat it out and yelled at her camera guy to find a better spot for the shoot.
“Where do you want me to go?” he asked. “The lake’s right behind you.” His forehead wrinkled with irritation although his voice was calm. It sounded like a normal interaction for them.
“Brian! I don’t care where we are. Just get me out of the mud and wind!”
“And, we’re live, in three…two…one,” he calmly counted down, ignoring her outburst.
Like a lightbulb, she switched from the petulant frown to a million-dollar smile. “Hello, folks! We’re here live today, despite the wind”—she gave a tinkling laugh—“to discover what secrets the Johnson Lake holds under its murky surface. It’s been rumored to be the answer to an eighty-year-old riddle, stating an ancient sword is hidden beneath this muddy surface.”
Here Brian lifted the camera and slowly panned the water’s surface.
“We’re told,” the reporter continued, “That beneath the lake is a professional scuba diving team, who are searching the ruins of a house long forgotten beneath the surface. Any minute now, we expect to hear some news.”
“And cut!” yelled the cameraman.
Immediately the reporter’s smile fell. “Now can you get me out of this cow field?”
I glanced down and saw her nice, expensive boots were indeed covered in mud. My own feet were stuffed into a pair of cheap rain boots I’d purchased specifically for walking out to the mailbox at my rental home.
I left her and squelched through the mud in a search for Uncle Chris, and soon found him standing with what looked like a member of the scuba team by the lake’s shore. There was a tent covering some equipment and electrical wires strung from the house over there. I didn’t continue my trek, not wanting to disturb them.
Someone grabbed my arm and I spun with surprise, and then smiled at Kari.
“Exciting day!” she exclaimed, her blonde hair covered with a beanie, sporting a huge fake-fur pompom. “Looks like half the town is here to see what they’re going to find.” She lowered her voice and pulled me in closer. “Including Roy Merlock.”
“What?” I asked. “Where is he?”
She lifted her eyes and cut them to the left. I followed the gaze to see an old man standing near a stump, his hands shoved deep in his pockets, and a stocking cap pulled low on his forehead.
“Wow, amazing that he’d even show his face,” I whispered.
“Especially since he’s a suspect for murder,” Kari added. She cooly glanced at him again and then turned back to the lake.
“What do you think they’ll find? You think the sword is really down there?” I asked. The wind was tearing at my hair, too. I knotted it as best as I could and pulled up the hood on my jacket.
“I wouldn’t be surprised if they pulled out a purple kangaroo, at this point. What a crazy ride this has been. And your first listing, too!”
I nodded, my attention caught by two men in their early twenties. Both of them were walking up to Roy on the hill. Ro
y nodded at them, but otherwise was expressionless.
“What?” asked Kari, catching a glimpse of my face.
“Roy has friends,” I said, dipping my head in his direction.
She casually glanced over. “One of those guys works at Roy’s sport shop. He does repairs on the bikes.”
“Really?” I said, squinting at him. He had a cut on his cheek. “He looks awful similar to the guy that I chased off this property the other day.”
“Oh, really! Do you recognize the other guy he’s with?”
I squinted harder and she nudged me. “Don’t stare!” she warned.
“How am I supposed to tell if I’ve seen him before or not if I don’t stare?” I replied. Still, I turned my head, because, right when Kari warned me, the man had glanced in my direction as if he felt my eyes on him.
“Good one,” Kari mumbled. “He saw us.”
“That means you were looking too,” I whispered back. “And no, I don’t recognize him. But that doesn’t mean he wasn’t here. There was a huge group by the lake that disappeared when the cops showed up.”
“Well, that’s Roy’s son, Jay. He’s our mailman,” she noted.
It really was turning into a town reunion. “Did I tell you that I found a pair of swim fins in the house?”
“No, but your uncle did. He showed me the picture and what caught my eye was the name Regional. That’s a brand carried by Laughing Gull Sport Shop.”
I frowned for a second. “Well, it seems like a lot of places probably carry the same brand.”
She shrugged. “Well, you’d think so. But when I told Joe, he said they were hard to get and that was one of the only places he knew of that still had them. Joe’s big on fishing so he knows that kind of stuff.”
I nodded, distracted. There was some action happening out in the water. A rowboat was moving fast to the middle of the lake. Everyone watched as the tension built. I texted Uncle Chris. —Any news?
I could see him fish his phone from his pocket. He read the text and then typed.—Not yet. You coming?