Camp Club Girls Get a Clue!

by Renae Brumbaugh

  “Did I scare you, honey?” he said. “I’m sorry. Are you ready to go to lunch?”

  Elizabeth brushed some dirt from the knees of her new blue jeans. “You know what, Uncle Dan? I think Sydney and I will skip lunch today. I really want to see stuff in Washington, D.C., and we’re only here for a week.”

  What? Sydney thought. She was looking forward to a free lunch in the city. Most of the time when her family went out to eat, it was to a place in her neighborhood called Ben’s Chili Bowl. Anywhere else was a treat.

  Uncle Dan looked disappointed but didn’t try to persuade the girls any further.

  The girls walked with Uncle Dan and his friends to the west end of the Vietnam Wall to say their good-byes.

  “Check in with me this week,” Uncle Dan told his niece. “Your mom will be furious if I don’t take good care of you.”

  One of his buddies, Al, chuckled. “And we’ll take good care of your uncle,” he said. Al was the one who had corrected Elizabeth about the nurses’ statue. Elizabeth didn’t like something about him.

  She kissed her uncle on the forehead. “Don’t worry, Uncle Dan. I’ll be fine.”

  The men had barely walked away when Sydney said, “You know, a free lunch sounded pretty good to me.”

  Elizabeth took Sydney’s arm and pulled her. “We have to find Rusty and Moose,” she said. “I think they went that way.” She pointed toward the Lincoln Memorial.

  The girls started walking along Henry Bacon Drive toward the big white building with the famous statue of Abraham Lincoln.

  “When I read the words ‘Meade me in St. Louis,’ well, I got a thought,” Elizabeth said. “If I’m right, those guys are terrorists.”

  “What!” Sydney shrieked. “They’re weird and creepy, but they don’t look like terrorists.”

  A police car rushed past them, weaving through traffic on the drive. Its siren briefly interrupted their conversation.

  “Remember that Bible verse: ‘Outside you look good, but inside you are evil and only pretend to be good’?” Elizabeth asked.

  “No,” Sydney answered. “Why do you know so much scripture?”

  “Because just about everybody in my family is a minister or a missionary,” Elizabeth said.

  The girls split up and walked around two ladies pushing baby strollers.

  Elizabeth had to run a few steps to catch up with Sydney. “As soon as I read those words, ‘Meade me in St. Louis,’ I thought about a few years ago when terrorists tried to assassinate President Meade. Do you remember? It was at the Smithsonian, at the National Air and Space Museum. Slow down a little, please.”

  Sydney never did anything slowly. Her friends often had a hard time keeping up with her fast, long legs. “Oh yeah,” she answered. “The president was there to celebrate some sort of anniversary.”

  “The anniversary of Charles Lindberg’s flight across the Atlantic in his plane, The Spirit of St. Louis,” Elizabeth added.

  “I almost forgot about that,” Sydney continued. She walked a little slower. “That was the first year that Meade was president. Someone tried to shoot him but got away, and the government said it was terrorists. The Spirit of St. Louis… President Meade…Elizabeth! You don’t think the note was about that?”

  “They never caught who did it,” Elizabeth reminded her. “I think Rusty and Moose might at least know something about that.”

  The girls passed a crowd of people at a food cart near the Lincoln Memorial. Sydney suddenly realized how hungry she was.

  “You and the rest of the Camp Club Girls always accuse me of jumping to conclusions,” she said. “But this time, I think you’re jumping to conclusions. Even if you are right, Moose and Rusty are gone by now. We’ll never find them in this crowd. And since you cost me a free lunch today, let’s get in line and buy some sandwiches.”

  “Okay,” Elizabeth replied. “But I wish I knew where they went.”

  When the girls finally got their food and drinks, they sat on a bench facing the street. The Lincoln Memorial towered to their left, almost one hundred feet tall. Its huge white columns made it look like an ancient Greek temple.

  Sydney peeled the paper off her BLT wrap and took a bite. “As long as we’re here, do you want to tour the memorial?” she asked.

  “Not really,” Elizabeth said as she opened her chocolate milk. “Did you know that a long time ago, Vietnam War protests went on at the Lincoln Memorial? Being here reminds me of what happened to my uncle Dan.”

  “Elizabeth,” Sydney groaned. “You can’t visit Washington, D.C., and not see the monuments. Sure, there have been protests here, but that’s not what it’s all about.”

  Elizabeth said nothing. It was just like the night before when they’d been talking about Uncle Dan before going to bed.

  “This place is a memorial to the president who freed the slaves. Martin Luther King Jr. made his famous ‘I Have a Dream’ speech here, and Marian Anderson sang here when they wouldn’t let her sing in Constitution Hall because she was black. I like the Lincoln Memorial, Elizabeth. Some really good things happened here!”

  Sydney didn’t like being annoyed with her friend, but she couldn’t understand Elizabeth’s attitude. She was always easygoing and understanding, but since she’d arrived, she just didn’t seem to be herself.

  “I’m sorry,” Elizabeth apologized. She picked at her burrito with a black plastic fork. “I just don’t understand why people have to fight in wars where good folks get hurt—like my uncle.”

  Sydney thought hard for something to say. “Wars have happened since way back in Old Testament times, Beth. Remember when David fought Goliath? Can you try not to think about bad stuff and just have a good time?” She offered her friend a dill pickle.

  Elizabeth screwed up her face. “No, thank you,” she said.

  A shiny black limousine pulled up in front of them. It stopped on the wrong side of the street and held up traffic. The driver got out and walked briskly toward the back door.

  “Wow,” said Elizabeth. “Who do you think is in there?”

  Sydney took the last bite of her wrap and tossed the container into a trash can by the bench. “Probably a senator or a congressman. You see tons of limos in the District.”

  The driver opened the back door, and a short, dark man in a black suit got out. His crisp white shirt gleamed against his tan skin, and a thin black necktie hung neatly inside the front of his suit jacket. His mirrored sunglasses reflected the image of Sydney and Elizabeth sitting on the bench nearby. “Twenty minutes,” he said to the driver. He walked toward the memorial, and the limo drove off.

  Sydney turned around to look at him. “Elizabeth!” she gasped.

  “What?”

  “There are Rusty and Moose.”

  Sure enough, Moose and Rusty stood on the sidewalk, not far from where Sydney and Elizabeth sat. The girls watched the man in the suit approach them. Moose stuck out his hand for the man to shake it, but the man ignored him. Then all three walked briskly toward the Lincoln Memorial.

  “Let’s see what they’re up to,” Sydney said.

  “But you think they’re good, upstanding citizens,” Elizabeth reminded her.

  “I didn’t say that,” Sydney argued. “I said that they don’t look like terrorists. It won’t hurt to check them out. Maybe you’re right. Maybe they did have something to do with the graffiti.”

  The men were a good distance ahead of them now. The girls wove through the crowd trying to keep them in sight. Sydney, being taller than Elizabeth, focused on Rusty’s shaggy red hair. The short man was impossible to see. He was dwarfed by Moose’s big, hulking body.

  “Do you see them?” Elizabeth asked. She walked a few steps on her tiptoes.

  “I see the top of Rusty’s head bobbing up and down,” Sydney answered. “Looks like they’re heading for the stairs.”

  The Lincoln Memorial had fifty-six wide marble stairs leading to the statue of the sixteenth president of the United States. People sat on the s
taircase talking and reading. Tourists climbed to the top to gaze at the Reflecting Pool on the Mall and, beyond it, the Washington Monument and the United States Capitol Building.

  The men started to climb the stairs.

  “Now what?” Elizabeth asked.

  “We should try to get close enough to listen and find out, once and for all, if they’re up to something,” Sydney told her. “But we’ll have to be careful that they don’t see us. They might remember us.”

  “How about if we split up?” Elizabeth suggested. “They’re less likely to recognize us if we’re not together.”

  The men were halfway up the stairs now.

  “Good idea,” Sydney agreed. “But let’s keep an eye on each other. Just in case.”

  The girls split up. Elizabeth ran up the left side of the staircase, and Sydney ran up the right.

  At the top of the stairs, a sign read Quiet, Respect Please. Just beyond it was the nineteen-foot-tall statue of President Lincoln. He towered over the tourists, looking relaxed but alert, sitting in his chair, watching over the nation’s capital. Moose, Rusty, and the short man didn’t seem to notice the president. They whisked past him as if he weren’t even there.

  The memorial was surrounded by thirty-six huge columns. They were thirty-seven feet tall and fat enough to hide behind. Sydney saw the men hurry to the column farthest to the right of the president. They disappeared around it.

  Sydney searched for Elizabeth and saw her standing at the foot of the Lincoln statue. She was watching Sydney like a hawk. Sydney pointed to herself and then toward the column where the men went, showing Elizabeth that she would follow them. Elizabeth put her right index finger to her lips.

  Silently, like a shadow, Sydney slipped from one marble column to the next. Finally she was just one column away. It would be tricky to shift to the last column where the men were standing. If the men changed their position, she would be caught. Sydney peeked around the column to be sure the coast was clear. She said a short prayer and took a deep breath. Then she slithered to the column hiding the men. With her back plastered against the pillar just a few feet from where they stood, Sydney listened.

  “We left a note for you,” Moose was saying, “because we didn’t expect you to show up.”

  The short man snickered. “You never know when I’ll show up.” His deep voice didn’t fit his small, slim body. “That’s why you’d better do exactly what you’re told.”

  “We are, boss!” Rusty spoke this time. His voice was almost a whisper, nervous and hushed. “We’re doing it just like you told us to.”

  “That’s good,” said the man. “Otherwise, we might have to send you on the trip with Meade.”

  What does that mean? Sydney wondered. She pressed tighter against the marble pillar and shifted, ever so slightly, to her left. She tried to listen even harder.

  “Waaaaaaaaaa!” A high-pitched shriek filled the air. Sydney’s heart stopped as she looked toward the Lincoln statue. A woman near Elizabeth was trying to calm her unhappy little boy. As Elizabeth and Sydney watched, the mother led her screaming child down the steps and away from the president’s statue. Sydney sighed.

  “Who came up with the tattoo idea?” The short man was talking now. Sydney had missed part of the conversation.

  “I did, boss,” Moose said uncertainly.

  There was a short pause.

  “Good work,” he said. “I didn’t think you had it in you, Percival.”

  Percival! Sydney thought to herself. Moose’s real name is Percival? She stifled a laugh. What a funny, old-fashioned name!

  “Thanks, boss!” Moose’s voice relaxed.

  “Don’t you want us to go check out the place?” asked Rusty. “We could go right now.”

  “I warned you about being impatient,” the short man snapped. “I’ll talk it over with him first. If it’s a go, then we’ll move up to the next level. When that happens, then you can go and check it out.”

  “Tomorrow?” Rusty asked.

  “Tomorrow,” the man said.

  Sydney saw Elizabeth with her right arm in the air. Beth was frantically making counter-clockwise circles with her right hand. Sydney heard footsteps on the opposite side of the pillar. The men were leaving. She inched her way counterclockwise around the gigantic column, making sure she was opposite of where they were. If they saw her, she couldn’t imagine what would happen.

  Sydney held her breath and didn’t let it out until she was sure they were gone. She peeked around the back of the column and looked toward Elizabeth. The men were almost to her, but she had her back to them. She was talking with a group of old ladies, trying to edge her way in front of them as she pointed up at the Lincoln statue. She’s acting like a tour guide so they won’t recognize her,

  Sydney thought. The men walked by, not seeing Elizabeth, and continued down the stairs.

  Sydney came out from her hiding place and hurried toward her friend.

  “And if you’d like to learn more about the Lincoln Memorial, you can ask one of the park rangers down there.” Elizabeth pointed down the steps toward the Reflecting Pool where a ranger, wearing a uniform like Aunt Dee’s, was talking with tourists. The women started down the stairs.

  “So what did they say?” Elizabeth asked.

  “I don’t have a good feeling about them,” Sydney confided. “Moose and Rusty called the suit guy ‘Boss,’ and they seemed afraid of him. They were extra polite. The suit guy said Meade is taking a trip, and if Moose and Rusty don’t do what they’re told, they might go with him. They talked about a tattoo and taking things to the next level, and they asked the boss if they should go check someplace out. But I don’t know where that is. Something’s happening tomorrow, too, but I don’t know that either. And would you believe that Moose’s real name is Percival?”

  “Percival! Do you think the suit guy is The Professor?” Elizabeth asked.

  “I don’t know,” Sydney said. “But I think it’s too late for us to go to the Smithsonian now. And I think we should tell the other Camp Club Girls what’s going on and see what they think. Let’s text McKenzie and ask her to schedule a group chat for tonight.”

  “Great idea,” Elizabeth responded. “Especially since all the time I watched you, I felt someone was watching me!”

  Colors of Danger!

  Promptly at 6:55 that night, Sydney was waiting at her computer with Elizabeth seated next to her. She entered the Camp Club Girls’ chat room, and right away, the messages began to arrive.

  Alexis: Are you guys ok? I got an uncomfortable feeling about you today and prayed for you.

  Sydney: When everyone logs on, we’ll explain all.

  McKenzie: I’m here. I bet something to do with Agent Orange is involved.

  Alexis: Let’s hope it’s just kids playing a prank and not something worse. However, I did see a mystery movie last week that had terrorists masquerading as kids.

  Kate: Biscuit started barking like crazy as soon as I pulled up this screen. I think he knows it’s you guys, and is trying to tell you he misses you.

  Sydney: How is Biscuit? I wish he could text with us.

  Kate: He’s wanted to play ball with me all day.

  Bailey: I’m here! Just got home from a day with Mom in

  Chicago. Good thing we came home early. We’re an hour behind you here in Peoria.

  McKenzie: I was beginning to wonder if you were home when I sent an e-mail and didn’t hear from you.

  Sydney: Okay, since we’re all here, let’s get started….

  Sydney spent the next few minutes telling the girls about all that had happened that day. She told them about Moose and Rusty and everything that had gone on at the Wall that morning. Then she explained how she had listened to their conversation at the Lincoln Memorial.

  Elizabeth took the keyboard and slid it over to where she sat next to Sydney at her desk.

  Elizabeth: When I read the note, “Meade me in St. Louis, July 1,” the Lord gave me the memory of President Mead
e and when he was almost shot a few years back. It was at the National Air and Space Museum at the Smithsonian Museum, here in Washington. The president was there to honor Lindberg’s flight in his plane, the Spirit of St. Louis. So I’ve been wondering, do you think they could be planning something evil at the same place on July 1st?

  Alexis: Are you sure that the thought was from God, Elizabeth? Sometimes Satan gives us thoughts to throw us off track. You probably know where the Bible says that.

  Elizabeth: It’s in 2 Corinthians: “Even Satan tries to make himself look like an angel of light. So why does it seem strange for Satan’s servants to pretend to do what is right?” But, Alex, I know that this thought was from God. Oh, and I forgot to tell you about the fruit. Bailey: Fruit? This is beginning to sound really crazy,

  Lizzybet. Elizabeth: I know. Someone has been leaving fruit at the Vietnam Wall: a small pyramid of lemons, a box of blueberries, and rows of limes and oranges.

  Sydney took the keyboard back.

  Sydney: Tangerines!

  McKenzie: I think the fruit is important. That one guy found the note about patience being bitter and bearing sweet fruit.

  Kate: I looked that up online. It’s a Turkish proverb. Whoever wrote it might want those guys to be patient about whatever they’re up to.

  Bailey: That one guy’s name is Red. Why? What do they look like? Elizabeth: Moose and Rusty, that’s his name, look messy, like they haven’t combed their hair or washed their clothes in a while. The short guy… well…think of an FBI agent. He looks like that.

  McKenzie: Rusty said, “This one is different from green, blue, and yellow.” Think about it. Limes are green, blueberries are blue, lemons are yellow.

  Sydney: And tangerines are orange! But what do those colors mean…if anything?

  Kate: Was the fruit always left in the same spot?

  Sydney turned to Elizabeth. “Do you know?”

  Elizabeth twisted the pendant on her necklace. “It wasn’t in the same spot,” she said. “I remember your aunt told Uncle Dan where they left it, but I wasn’t really listening. Why don’t you ask her? But don’t be too obvious about it.”