Puppet

by Ed Kightlinger

  In 1737, a descendant of Sir Müller sold Robert to an unscrupulous American voyager and businessman, Kilpatrick Borling. Kilpatrick had hoped to sell Robert to a little-known museum in New York City – Museum de Vavato (Museum of Puppets). If Kilpatrick had sold Robert to the museum, our story, as we now know it, would probably not exist.

  Kilpatrick eventually suffered hard times, trouble that always seems to happen to unscrupulous businesspeople. Since he was desperate for cash, Kilpatrick sold Robert to a stagehand who worked for a small vaudeville enterprise in what is now Nashville, Tennessee. Even though the stagehand had purchased him to act on stage, Robert never performed in a show. Sadly, Robert continued to spend most of his days locked in the same suitcase where he had spent nearly one century. He was only brought out of his suitcase when the stagehand showed him off to his friends.

  The stagehand eventually sold Robert. One thing led to another until Robert ended up in the hands of a Tennessee farmer. The farmer lived on three-hundred acres, sixty-five miles due south of Nashville, Tennessee, neighboring a settlement that now is Pulaski. The farmer had bought Robert as the life-sized scarecrow of his sizeable cornfield. Before the farmer could affix Robert to the crossbar pole in the cornfield, that would have served as Robert’s final resting place, badly behaved teenagers had stolen him from the farmer.

  The ill-disciplined, bigoted teenagers did the unthinkable. Their actions were more disgraceful to Robert than if he were to act as a scarecrow nailed to a crossbar pole in the middle of a cornfield. The teenagers dressed Robert in a tattered t-shirt and filthy overalls and covered his face, arms, hands, and feet in coal soot. They strung him up by his neck from the bough of a tall maple tree. They used Robert for target practice. Within less than a month, they had riddled Robert’s puppety body with many shotgun pellets. We will leave the complete description of Robert’s ragged being to your imagination.

  Later, on a late autumn day in 1752, Puppet and his wife, Molly, along with Puppet’s step-brother, Neville Sorrie, discovered Robert. Robert was propped up in the corner of a woodshed. He looked nothing like his former glorious self or what he looks like today. His pellet-ridden, puppety being was but a hairsbreadth away from death.

  Owing to Molly’s basic healing skills and practiced sewing abilities, Robert was slowly brought back to his former handsome self, well, almost. A handful of shotgun pellets remain in his body to this day.

  Molly was unable to have children, so she regarded Robert as her teenaged son. She would sing to Robert, recite poetry for him, and she regularly changed his clothes. As a result of Molly’s affection and love, Robert slowly regained his magical powers. Within a year after Puppet, Molly, and Neville had found him, the central part of Robert’s being sprang to life. Molly was thrilled.

  Thanks to Molly’s love and owing to Mary Hall’s loving kiss and kind words centuries before, Robert’s magical powers had also returned.

  So had his puppety memory.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  SEEING IS BELIEVING

  “There are six of us! We are the Sextet!”

  Part I: Double-trouble

  Hmm, I wonder who this could be? I do not recognize this number.

  Chloe is about to reject the incoming call on her cellphone when she suddenly blurts out loud, “Wait a minute. I think this is Colette’s number!” She reaches into her pocket for the business card Colette gave to her.

  Yep, it is her all right. She told me to call her after six. She said she would be busy until then. It is only 5:13.

  “Hello? This is Chloe. Is this Colette?”

  “Aye,” Colette whispers, “it is me. Thank you for answering promptly. Can you speak with me?”

  Colette’s voice sounds frighteningly unsteady. A cold tremor begins to crawl up the back of Chloe’s legs, and then it races up her spine and across her shoulders. She draws up her shoulders and shivers. Goose bumps start to cover her entire body.

  She whispers, “Colette, are you okay? You sound scared or something. Is something or someone there with you?”

  Colette replies nervously, “Chloe, can you come to my house? It is a dozen or so houses from Bre’s house on Hill Street near the intersection of Central Park Avenue. I do not know where you live. If you are on Leroy Avenue, coming from Kensington Avenue, you make a right on Hill Street. If you are on Leroy Avenue, coming from Fillmore Avenue, you turn left.”

  “Are you on the same side of the street as Bre?” Chloe asks.

  “Aye, Chloe. My house is the one with the American flag in the front yard and the white picket fence.”

  “I know the place. Are you there now?”

  Colette replies, “Aye, but only until you get here. We need to crawl under the fence of the old mansion behind Central Park Avenue after you get here.”

  Chloe gasps. Not the White Mansion! There is no way I am going there. Something is haunting that horrible place!

  Chloe says, “Colette, I do not think you want to go to the mansion. Locals say something is haunting it. I’ve never been inside, but it looks plenty creepy from the outside.”

  “Chloe, I wouldn’t ask you if it weren’t important,” Colette says. “I saw something through the window. Something you should see.”

  The goose bumps quickly return causing the hairs on the nape of Chloe’s neck to tingle. She shivers once more. She says, “Can you tell me what it is?”

  Colette replies, “Not over the phone. You need to see it for yourself. We may need help, so ask your other friends that are involved in the investigation to meet us at my house. How soon can you make it to my place?”

  Chloe glances at the digital readout of the time on her iPhone.

  It is 5:15. If I hop on my bike, I should be there in five or six minutes. First, I have to call Bre and Diana Jane, so I should make it seven to ten minutes tops.

  Chloe says to Colette, “Okay, give me seven to ten minutes. I’ll ride my bike. First, I have to call Bre and Diana Jane. I know Diana Jane is practicing with others in the play. However, I want to give her the courtesy of knowing what we are about to do. Are you going to be okay till then?”

  Colette says, “Aye, I think I’ll be okay. Hurry, please. I am scared out of my wits, and I need to be with someone. My parents and siblings are shopping in Brewston. They will not be home until after eight o’clock. Please hurry, Chloe. Please!”

  “Okay,” Chloe says as she heads out the door to the garage to grab her fifteen-speed bicycle. “But don’t go anywhere, Colette, especially not to the White Mansion by yourself! Something is haunting it!”

  “I know that, Chloe!” Colette replies excitedly. “Lord knows I recognize that something is haunting it. I dislike having to ask you this, but can you remain with me? Can you stay on the line while you bicycle? I do not want to be alone.”

  Chloe checks the battery usage readout on her phone. Fifty-two percent of battery life remains. She says, “First I need to call Bre and Diana Jane. Can I call you right back?”

  “Aye, but hurry!” Colette says.

  Chloe peddles as quickly as she can on the sidewalk of Leroy Avenue. She says into the phone, “Sirri, call Diana Jane.” Diana Jane answers a few moments later.

  “Hi, Chloe, what’s up?”

  “Trouble,” Chloe replies, “investigative trouble, at least I think that it is. I want to give you a courtesy head’s up. I am on my way to Colette’s house. She lives in the old Johnson house, a dozen houses from Bre’s house. It’s the house with the flag and white fence, right next to Central Park Avenue. Something is wrong with Colette. She will not tell me, but it has something to do with the old White Mansion. I’ll let you know what I find out as soon as I can, okay?”

  Diana Jane is in the kitchen helping her mother bake cookies. She turns to her mother.

  “Mom, do you mind if I visit my new friend, Colette? She moved into the Johnson’s house up the street from Bre’s home. It is a huge house with the swimming pool in the backyard.

  “Why certainly,
” her mother replies. “I met your friend’s mother at the grocery store the other day. Her name is Denise. We met in the organic food section. She was shopping with Bre’s mother. Denise seems like a charming woman. She told me she has six kids too. Surprisingly, she looks very young to have six kids. I love her accent as well.”

  Diana Jane says, “Colette is the only girl and the oldest.”

  Her mother says with a chuckle, “The only girl with five younger brothers? Poor her. Yes, Diana, you can go. Please be careful if you ride your bicycle.”

  “Thanks, Mom,” Diana Jane says. “I will ask Colette to tell her mother that you said hello.”

  “You do that, Diana. Thank you.”

  As Diana Jane rushes out the door, she whispers into the phone, “Chloe, what’s all of this about anyway?” Chloe does not reply. She has hung up her phone and is on the receiving end of a nasty, finger-pointing reproach from Mister Cheaply.

  As Chloe was peddling her bicycle on the sidewalk of Leroy Avenue – she was riding on the sidewalk due to rush hour traffic – she almost crashed into Mister Cheaply. He was standing in the middle of the pavement outside his shop. He had his arms crossed in front of his chest, and he was glaring something fierce.

  Chloe thought he was going to admonish her for racing up the sidewalk on her bicycle. Two-wheeled bicyclists are not allowed on the sidewalk. Only tricycles and little kid wagons, along with unlicensed battery-operated kids’ play automobiles, and baby-carrying strollers, are permitted on sidewalks. Most kids ignore the no bicycling on the sidewalk rules, especially when there is a lot of traffic on Leroy Avenue. Getting in trouble with shop owners and neighbors from time to time is better than getting killed by a random car.

  Chloe is standing astride her bicycle as Mister Cheaply drones on with his threats. She is anxious about the time but thinks better than pulling her phone out of her pocket to check it. She has ignored most of Mister Cheaply’s scolding words up until now. In spite of this, what he is now saying commands her complete attention.

  “I also will tell everyone about how your brother cheats others,” Mister Cheaply says with a sneer. “You may or may not know this, but I have a lot of time and money invested in your school. I support many of the school’s extracurricular programs, and I also am the sponsor of all its teams. Darn it all, Miss Brown, I also pay for all the supplies, uniforms, and transportation of your stupid volleyball team. Therefore, lay off the investigation, or you and your dishonest brother will be sorry!”

  Chloe is shivering, and she is close to tears. She has to cross her arms over her chest and massage her forearms to keep from trembling even more. She is that scared.

  “Sir, it isn’t my fault. Missus Davenhill told us in writing to investigate the food fight – Diana Jane Bower, Brenae Woodbine and me. It is an official assignment. If we fail to complete it, there will be a whole lot of explaining to do. We might fail our subject.”

  “I know that,” Mister Cheaply says. “Then again, I really could care less.” He pulls a hundred-dollar bill from his wallet.

  “Here, take this. I want you to have some fun with your friends. Maybe have pizza. This money should pay for a few weekends of free pizza, free McDonald's burgers, maybe a half-dozen movies at the theater.”

  “Sir,” Chloe says as she shakes her head, “I cannot accept this. You cannot bribe me. It goes against everything that my parents have taught me. The principal gave me an assignment, and I intend to carry it out to the best of my ability.”

  “Oh, you do, do you?” Mister Cheaply says between clenched teeth. He crumples the bill into a ball and stuffs it into the saddlebag of Chloe’s bicycle.

  “Either you do as I ask, by limiting the investigation as much as possible, or I will stop funding your volleyball team. It is that simple. I also will stop supporting you and your precious friends’ drama club. After all, I am the one who pays for all of the props, scenery, music, costumes. Heck! I even fund the printing of tickets and brochures.

  “Also, I will defund my sponsorship of your school’s baseball and football teams. We are talking about thousands and thousands of dollars of equipment, Miss Brown. If you do not do what I ask, hundreds of kids will have nothing to do after school except mundane homework assignments. Do you get the picture?”

  “Yes, I do,” Chloe stammers as she slides her shoe onto the bicycle pedal. “I certainly do. Now, if you will excuse me, I have to go.” She removes her phone from her pocket to check the time. It is 5:34. She is already late in meeting up with Colette, and she still needs to call Bre. As she throws her leg over the saddle and hops onto her bicycle seat, Mister Cheaply grabs her handlebars.

  “I am not finished with you,” Mister Cheaply admonishes. His anger is causing his face to flush, and his tone is harsh. “I will not allow you to ride off to God knows where on the sidewalk without first being excused!” He glares at Chloe.

  “I have more to say. After I make all of your school’s sports and extracurricular programs disappear in a flash,” he snaps his fingers in front of Chloe’s face, “I will fire your brother. Then I will call the police to report him for bilking my customers, for stealing from me. I have proof. The proof is on my accounting ledgers. It will be his word against mine. Since I have friends in high places, including the police department, I dare say, Miss Brown, your brother will not have a chance. He will spend at least a couple days if not more in juvenile detention. Imagine, Miss Brown, having to visit your brother in juvie. It seems pretty sad, huh?”

  Chloe is now in tears. She points her finger at Mister Cheaply threateningly.

  “You wouldn’t dare! My brother is a good worker. Jim has told me about the way you cheat others and the way you make him do dishonest things! He has told me you serve horsemeat disguised as ground hamburger. He has told me how you make him put weights on the scale to cheat your customers out of an ounce or two of cold cuts and cheese. He has also told me how you make him chip off the glass at the top of bottles to cheat your vendors so that you can get free bottles of pop from them!”

  “Did he now?” Mister Cheaply says. The expression on his face is indifferent. He places his hands on his hips and leans in closer until his face is mere inches from Chloe’s.

  Chloe cringes with having Mister Cheaply’s face so close to hers. His stale breath smells like the sweaty socks aroma of aged Limburger Cheese. Chloe readily recognizes the odor of Limburger Cheese since her father adores, as he lovingly calls it, “the cheese that nose no equal.”

  “Oh, Miss Brown, I forgot to mention something equally disgusting as your brother’s cheating ways. I saw your father shoplifting in Dooley’s the other day.” The look on Chloe’s face is disbelieving.

  “Does that shock you? I am glad.” He shakes his head and snickers. “I bet Dooley’s store camera recorded every aspect of your father’s despicable crime. I can easily get my hands on the videotape. Would you like me to do that?”

  Chloe does not reply. She stares expressionlessly at Mister Cheaply’s lips as they continue to spit out insulting, hateful words.

  “After all, I am a respectable businessman, and I know Mister Dooley very well. He and I grew up together. We were on the same baseball team as teenagers. He would have the book thrown at your father if he knew your father was shoplifting.”

  Chloe shouts angrily, “You did not see such a thing! My father would never steal from anybody!”

  Mister Cheaply shrugs his shoulders replies. “Oh, really, Miss Brown? Have you ever wondered how your father was able to buy ten pair of expensive athletic shoes, socks, and headbands for you and your volleyball teammates? Did you ever consider how he could afford them? He stole them, Miss Brown. Pure and simple.”

  “He did not!” Chloe cries. “Missus Davenhill gave him the money. I know that for a fact because I was in the living room when she did it!” She points her finger at Mister Cheaply. “My father did not steal from Dooley’s!”

  Mister Cheaply replies nastily, “Maybe he did, and maybe he d
idn’t. Are you willing to take that risk? Do you want to lose everything you enjoy, everything you love: volleyball, your brother and his up-to-now clean record, your dad’s reputation, and, most of all, your reputation?” Mister Cheaply smiles a nasty smirk. “Do you want to lose everything your friends at school cherish, from drama and chess club activities to baseball and football?” He lets go of Chloe’s handlebars and glances up at the storefront camera.

  “Will you take a look at that? Cameras do not lie, Miss Brown. You threatened me when I, a law-abiding citizen who nearly got run over, tried to explain how dangerous your riding on the sidewalk was to others. You even pointed your finger at me threateningly. You scared me half to death. Oh, my goodness, Miss Brown! You broke the law.” He lowers his voice. It sounds like the growl of an angry dog. “We are in trouble now, aren’t we, Miss Chloe Alexandria Brown, daughter of a felon, brother of a crook, breaker of her friends’ hearts?”

  He gestures to the camera with a slight nod of his head. “Every bit of your hateful, rebellious, profanity-laden words is being recorded even as we speak.”

  Chloe does not reply. Nevertheless, her inner thoughts do.

  The camera also recorded us as you slipped a crumpled-up one-hundred-dollar bill into my saddlebag. You are such a moron! What will others think when they see that you handed a fifteen-year-old female one hundred dollars?

  Mister Cheaply suddenly turns around and walks toward the entrance of his store. Chloe frantically peddles her bicycle, purposely remaining on the sidewalk with a display of rebelliousness. Mister Cheaply shouts after her.

  “Think about everything that I said, Miss Brown, before it is too late. Or else, you will be sorry. I promise you. You will be sorry along with your father, your brother, and all of your stupid friends and classmates!”

  Chloe’s thoughts scream wordlessly. I have no time to worry about your lies, you crazy, swindling man! Colette is in trouble. Nevertheless, I swear to God! If it is the last thing I do, I will find out why the cafeteria food fight investigation is so important to you – you stupid, stupid, cheapskate man!