The Trespasser's Unexpected Adventure: Middle School Books for Kids: The Mystery of the Shipwreck Pirates Gold [An exciting kids mystery book / adventure ... (Crime Stopper Kids Mystery Books 1)

by Karen Cossey

  “Rainfor-ob-ulous! Where are the monkeys?” she asked.

  Logan laughed and pulled her into the room he shared with Nate, taking her to the window.

  “No way!” Meeka’s eyes were as wide as saucers. “I don’t believe it. That is incredi-tastic!” She was staring at a gravity-defying tree house, clinging with an iron-fisted grip to the trunk of a tree, at the same level as the bedroom window. It was almost fifty feet up from the ground, set amongst the branches, one of which came close to the house. A high-sided bridge had been built from the tree house, across the branch, to just below the window ledge, and was held in place by some big hooks clamped into the wall.

  “Who made this?” Meeka swung around to the boys, who were all smiles.

  “Dad did. He’s been working on it since I was born. Isn’t it cool?” Nate was beaming as he opened the window and climbed out onto the bridge. “We all help now, which is why it never gets finished. Someone’s always moaning they want another piece added. Especially Poet. You can’t satisfy some people. Wanna come see? Unless you’re scared of heights, that is?”

  Logan glanced at Meeka and she grinned at him. “Behave yourself, Meeka,” he said, hoping she would stick to the bridge and not try find another way across. “It’s a long way up, and there’s no rope.”

  “Yes, Sir, Mr Safety. You sound like my dad,” she said as she jumped onto the bridge and ran across to the tree house. She roamed around, touching everything, obviously delighted. “Do you sleep out here?” she asked Logan.

  “Only when Nate’s snoring gets really bad. It’s pretty cold out here. Plus the squirrels attack if you disturb them at night.”

  Meeka stared into the branches as if she was hoping to spot a vicious pulp-pounding squirrel. “So you were serious about the squirrel pounding you to a pulp and storing you for its winter feed.”

  The others wanted to know what she meant so they explained the whole CHAD thing, making everyone laugh. Everyone, that was, except Steve and Jason, who came up behind them as Logan finished.

  Jason looked over the edge of the fence. “What do you think Steve? I have this need to prove we can be reckless. What d’ya say to dangling children by their feet over this here bridge of yours?”

  “Sounds like fun. I wonder how loud they’d scream if we bounced them off the branches?”

  “Shame, that could be almost enjoyable,” Logan said, “but I think I hear Mum calling us in for dinner. You wouldn’t want to upset her now, would you, Dad?”

  Steve stared at him. He had noticed. That was the first time he had ever used those words. It didn’t sound too bad. In fact, it felt kind of … snug.

  Jason nudged Steve. “Act normal. Most parents are used to being called Dad and Mum. It’s very uncool if you cry now.”

  “I’m not crying, I had something in my eye.” Steve reached out and punched Logan in the arm. “Come on son, let’s go eat.”

  *****

  Jason, Lia and Meeka raved about the food. Of course they would. Steve and Abby’s paella was legendary, after all.

  During dinner, Lia asked what the kids were planning to do the next day. Meeka jabbered away about going on a bus trip to the next village to visit their history teacher.

  How could she be so excited?

  “You have been on a bus before?” Logan asked her.

  “Nope. Never. I get driven everywhere,” Meeka said.

  “What about the underground? You must have been on that, you live so close to London.” She shook her head. No? She must be kidding!

  “So you travel all over Europe, yet you’ve never been on a bus or the underground?” Logan said, looking over to Nate, who was also shaking his head in disbelief.

  “Don’t worry Jason, Lia.” Nate picked up his spoon and waved it in Meeka’s direction. “Our classes in Ordinary will sort her out. We will ban chauffeured cars and aeroplanes for the next few days. It’ll be strictly foot power, bicycle power, and bus power for you from now on.”

  “Whoa, hold on there,” Logan said. “She may need easing into our Ordinary classes. They can be quite difficult for newbies. I suggest we allow the occasional Ferrari ride if she gets the jitters.”

  “Escorted, of course, by one of her fine instructors,” Nate said.

  “Of course, goes without saying.” Logan grinned at Jason, who let out a laugh.

  “Afraid the Ferrari ride is out boys, at least for tomorrow. I phoned Mr MacAdden this afternoon and he said he had booked out the track to a group of racers from London. They want the whole place for themselves tomorrow afternoon. Can’t understand that, can you Logan?” Jason asked.

  Weren’t the rich guys from London there yesterday? Mind you, the place was still empty when Jason and Lia left. Of course! It wasn’t the London guys who’d rented out the track yesterday after all.

  “It was you guys who booked out the track yesterday!” he exclaimed.

  Jason nodded. Whoa, that must have cost a packet.

  Logan shook his head. “What a lot of fun that was, huh? I can see why the London guys like to have the place to themselves.”

  “It was good, eh?” Jason said. “Shame the London guys have got the place to themselves tomorrow, but Mr MacAdden felt sorry for us seeing as we can’t use it. He said it’ll be okay for us to come watch. He also suggested I might like to bring my nephews and nieces. Do you know where I could find a couple of fill-ins?”

  “That’ll be a bit tricky. I’ll have to think about that one.” Logan frowned and put two fingers up to his lips.

  Cole, Nate and Poet threw their spoons at him.

  Jason smiled and suggested they all meet at the track at about two o’clock the next day.

  Lia came back to the bus trip topic and asked why the kids wanted to see their history teacher.

  Uh-oh. This would worry her.

  Meeka showed her the coins they’d found in the house and the cave and explained that Mr Gomander would be able to date them.

  “How do you think this one got in the cave?” Lia asked Cole.

  “Can’t say, but Mr Gomander might have an idea. He knows who buys coins like these,” Cole said.

  Lia looked anxious, her forehead creased.

  “There’ll be some simple explanation,” Steve said, gathering up the dirty dishes. He stopped mid-pass of the serving dish, a look of surprise on his face. “You know, there’s a boat not far out to sea, doing salvage work. The inspectors are planning on boarding it soon because it looks like it’s leaking oil. Maybe the crew have found an old shipwreck loaded with bullion. That would be exciting, huh?”

  “What kind of shipwreck would have coins like these?” asked Jason, turning the coin over in his hands.

  “Old ones, with coins like that. Probably from the sixteen or seventeen hundreds. Lots of ships went down between England and France back then. When the wreck of the Merchant Royal, which sank in the sixteen hundreds, was recovered a few years ago it had about seventeen tonnes of gold and silver coins on board. They were worth around 250 million pounds.”

  “Shimmering silver, that’s a lotta loot!” Meeka jumped up on her chair and held her hands out wide. “Imagine how many Ferraris that would buy!”

  Unbelievable! That kind of money could cause a whole lot of trouble. Especially if someone was trying to smuggle those coins.

  “Who gets to keep all the money?” asked Poet. “Is it finders’ keepers?”

  “Not quite,” Steve said, smiling. “British law states any salvage within twelve nautical miles of Britain must be registered with the Receiver of Wrecks. After a year, if no owners are found to claim the ship, it belongs to the Crown, though the salvage company will have Salvage Rights.”

  “What’s that?” asked Nate.

  “Salvage rights means they get to do the salvage, and the Crown will pay them an amount for what they find. What the Crown pays depends on lots of different factors, like how hard the salvagers had to work to extract the salvage. For older shipwrecks, the salvage company might ge
t eighty percent of the find and hand the rest over to the government. Whatever the case, it can be a long drawn-out process for all involved, especially the salvage company.”

  “These coins probably aren’t from a shipwreck. That seems a bit far-fetched. Maybe a collector was staying at Hideaway Lodge and got a bit careless,” Cole said, glancing at Logan. Looked like Cole didn’t want to worry Lia, either.

  “Maybe they had the coins in their pocket and went down to the basement to raid Janet’s storeroom, and then the ghosts from the secret tunnel next door scared them away so they never realised the coins had fallen out,” Meeka said, leaning over, her eyes wide and her hands outstretched.

  “That’ll be it, for sure,” Logan said.

  “Except for the ghosts from the secret tunnel, who are looking for the coins even now.” Cole sounded downright spooky. The girls screamed and the boys joined in, and started chasing them around the house until they all fell on the couch laughing.

  After being awake so much the night before, they all went to bed early that night. Hopefully Meeka wouldn’t think Ordinary was equal to Boring, seeing as all they did was play a few card games. Enough laughs to make her almost wet her pants, but not exactly the ideal superstar evening entertainment.

  At least Jason and Lia hadn’t asked any more questions about the coins.

  Logan lay in his bed, listening to Nate’s heavy breathing. What if someone was smuggling coins ashore? Lia did say she thought she had heard someone in the basement during the night. What would anyone want with the basement though? It didn’t make any sense. His imagination was getting away with him. Must be Meeka’s influence.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Monday Morning

  At five o’clock Logan was disturbed by Poet moaning in her sleep. Poet? What was she doing in their room? Logan peered over the edge of the bed and saw her asleep on her father’s beanbag. It was the one her father had sat on with her to read stories, and was one of the few things they’d brought down from Cole and Poet’s home in York. When Poet had a nightmare she would often come in and curl up on it, while Nate would tell her jokes to cheer her up.

  Poet thought of Nate as her best friend as well as her brother. For once though, wouldn’t it be wicked if she thought of him as enough of a brother that she would wake him up for a joke or a story when she was scared?

  He sighed and glanced at Nate, asleep on the bunk beneath him. Funny that such an annoying guy could be both Poet’s and his best friend. It was probably because they knew Nate would do anything for them—he was always looking out for them.

  Logan lay still, listening to the wind in the trees. It would sound kind of scary if you weren’t use to it. Especially if you were worried about the ghosts of smugglers. He climbed down from the top bunk and went to check on Meeka.

  He stood at her door, peering at her bed. The sheet was pulled up over her head and he heard sniffles.

  “Meeka, it’s Logan. Are you okay?”

  The top of the sheet was yanked down revealing a very wide-eyed Meeka, obviously trying to be brave. The wind was making more than its usual amount of noise. It’d be pretty bad out at sea, it seemed so wild.

  “Shove over,” Logan sat on the bed next to her and leaned against the wall.

  “Thanks for coming, Cliffhanger.” She seemed relieved, but trembled when another howl sounded. “I wish Dad was here.”

  Logan stared at her. What now?

  “You know what he would say?” he said, trying to match the smile in his voice to the one on his face.

  “What?”

  He mimicked Jason’s telling-off voice. “Don’t be such a girl.”

  The next thing he knew, she had thrown off the blankets, picked up a notebook and stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind her. He heard her stomping down the stairs and groaned. That didn’t go well.

  Steve was standing, dumbfounded, in the hallway, his shaver in his hand.

  “What happened?” he asked.

  “I called her a girl,” Logan said.

  “I see,” Steve’s face remained straight, not even a glimmer of a smile appeared. “My advice is ice-cream. Don’t worry about Mum’s rationing system. I’ll explain the situation.”

  “Thanks. Warn her that I might need a lot.” He went to the kitchen and raided the freezer. Meeka had stomped all the way to the basement, and he went down with the ice-cream held in front of him as a peace offering.

  Meeka had one hand on her hip, the other jabbed the air with her notebook. “Don’t you dare call me a girl. I am not a girl, I’m a … a …”

  “A pirate?” Logan asked, and held his breath.

  “No, that was the other day. Today I’m a songwriter. What flavour is that?” She pointed at the ice-cream.

  “Strawberry.”

  “That’ll do I guess. My favouritist is Cookies and Cream.”

  “I’ll remember that next time. If you’ll come again, that is. We don’t get many songwriters here.”

  Meeka smiled at him, took the ice-cream, and said, “I guess I could come back if you get Cookies and Cream. Do you want to see my song? It’s horrendible. I was mostly trying to take my mind off the ghosts.”

  Logan sat down at the piano with the notebook. It had printed staffs and she had scribbled in notes and written a chorus and verse, all about friendship. He played it on the piano.

  “Did this come out of your head?” he asked. She nodded. Wow!

  “You didn’t use the piano to help?”

  “Nope.” She started smashing at her ice-cream with the spoon, making it all soft and runny. “How long have you been playing the piano?” she asked.

  “Ages. I taught myself, so I’m not very good. I don’t like it much, but my dad had one, and whenever I practiced he would leave me alone, even if he was drunk. One time I played it for three hours straight so he wouldn’t start yelling at me.”

  He stared into space, mangling his face at the memory.

  Meeka stopped slurping her ice-cream. He felt her gaze and turned in time to see her sad expression. She was sorry for him. Funny though, it didn’t bother him. It was nice to have a friend who understood. Anyhow, she didn’t dwell on pity. All she did was squeeze his shoulder then change the subject.

  “You’re right. You’re not very good—I’m much better. But hey, I practice three hours every day.”

  “No way, three hours a day!” What was his dad compared to that? Imagine how awful it would be practising three hours every day! Surely that must count as child abuse too!

  “Yep, I love it. Mum and Dad think it’s great because for at least three hours a day they can be pretty sure I’m not getting into any trouble. I’ve been playing since I was four. Going to be an astounda-mungus concert pianist when I grow up.”

  She slurped her ice-cream.

  “You’ll have to get over your stage fright. You can’t go throwing up all over a concert piano. It would be a bit messy.”

  “I can do piano on stage, because you don’t have to look at the crowd. I can pretend I’m all alone in a big bubble, just me and my piano and Mum and Dad.” Meeka waved her spoon in a circle shape as she spoke.

  “Hey, you’ve eaten all the ice-cream! What about me?”

  Her hoeing through that huge plate of ice-cream was more unbelievable than the fact that she practiced piano three hours a day.

  “Oops, here you can finish it,” and she handed him the nearly empty plate. “What do you think my name should be, seeing as I’m a songwriter today?”

  Logan thought about it as he finished off the ice-cream. “How about Lyric? You and Poet would kind of match then.”

  “That is double-barrel mind-blastingly brilliant, Logan. I love it!”

  *****

  Logan listened to the rhythmic thud, thud, thud as Meeka jumped on and off the seat in the bus shelter. Did she ever stand still? He climbed on the top of the rubbish bin and pulled himself up onto the shelter’s roof. Meeka followed and sat next to him, swinging her legs
over the edge.

  “Guys, you’re not allowed up there. Can’t you read?” Cole said, pointing to the sign.

  “I have a moral objection to reading,” Logan said.

  Meeka grinned and bumped her shoulder against his.

  Logan bumped her back. “Anyhow, this is the best spot for playing Notice.”

  “What’s Notice?” Meeka asked.

  “It’s a game Poet and Cole’s dad taught them,” Nate said. “You have thirty seconds to look behind you, then you turn around and tell us as much as you can remember. The person who notices the most wins. Cole is the official Notice Champion, but Poet comes a close second. Of course, I’ve managed to beat her a few times, but Logan is hopeless.”

  They played Notice until the bus arrived ten minutes later.

  “You guys have got elephantine memories!” Meeka said when she lost the last round. “That was thirty things you remembered Cole, and I only got eleven. How did you do that?”

  “He secretly is an elephant,” said Nate. “That’s why he’s always putting his nose into our business; it’s so long he can’t help it.”

  Cole frowned at Nate. “It’s just practice Meeka. You’ll get better.”

  “Well, I’m going to have to practice a lot,” she said. “I can’t let Nate beat me again.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  It was less than a three mile bus ride to Mr Gomander’s house at the north end of Millbrook. Meeka had fun noticing things about the other people on the bus and whispering to Poet. There was an awful lot of pointing and sniggering going on in their seat. Luckily they were sitting at the back, so none of the passengers realised they were being visually examined and analysed.

  Logan was glad of that, because there were two big, tough-looking guys sitting near the front who made him feel uneasy. As a child, men like that visited his father’s house and Logan had developed a sixth sense about whether they were good, bad, or wildly random. Something about these two guys was bothering him. A lot.

  When they stood to get off the bus at the end of Mr Gomander’s street, the men did, too, and they strode off in front of the children. They seemed to pause outside Mr Gomander’s place, but then kept walking. Must be his imagination again—surely Mr Gomander would never have anything to do with men like that?