The Case of the Missing Minute

by Sarah Morell

  4th Dimension Detective Agency:

  The Case of the Missing Minute

  1st Edition

  By Alaithia, Zoiya, Sarah, and George Morell

  Copyright © 2012 George Morell

  All Rights Reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

  First E-book Publication March 2012

  Contact Information: gmorell@intuinet.com

  This is a work of fiction. All names and places are pulled from the imagination of the author and not intended to represent any particular individual or event.

  Table of Contents

  Case of the Missing Minute

  Chapter 1 – The Golden Pocket Watch

  Chapter 2 – Saturday 11:58 a.m.

  Chapter 3 – Peanut Butter in the Uncanny Valley

  Chapter 4 – The Big Dig

  Chapter 5 – Open Sesame

  Chapter 6 – Dad inside the machine

  Chapter 7 – Pictures

  Chapter 8 – Our First Case

  Chapter 9 – Solving the Mystery is hard work

  Chapter 10 – The Reward

  Chapter 1 – The Golden Pocket Watch

  Jonathan Oswald sat in his basement, trying to determine what to do with the next segment of his life. At 76 years old, he and his wife Annabelle were starting to feel their age. The weather around these parts was terribly cold in the winter, and bit right down to the bone. Even though Annabelle loved to garden, maintaining the large property was no longer an enjoyable endeavor for either of them. What might have been a joy at an earlier age had turned into a chore that produced more aches and pains with every season.

  Was it really time to move out into a house with a tended yard and a full time cleaning staff? The Mulberry Estates in the southern panhandle of Florida seemed like an ideal place if they could afford it. On their weeklong visit with a friend this winter, they had both fallen in love with the place. The small homes they talked about weren’t really all that small, but they had been designed with the elderly in mind. There were no basements and no stairs anywhere in the house to struggle with. The ranch style homes had large, wide hallways. The showers and bathtubs even had large, bar handles that were ideal for preventing an accidental fall.

  The only concern was the cost. It wasn’t going to come cheap. They had been very fortunate with their current home. It needed some updating, but they had built it themselves 30 years ago and had it completely paid off years ago. The memory of children, now with families of their own, running up and down the stairs would be hard to let go of, perhaps more for him than Annabelle. They would have to use some of their savings to prepare this old home for sale. The real estate agent explained all the things that needed to be done both inside and out to ensure a speedy sale.

  The sale of their home and property should fetch a good price, even in a down market, but it would only pay for about half of the cost of the new house. He would have to liquidate all of his collectibles to help pay for the new gated retirement community home.

  Annabelle had been dropping hints about the particular model home that she preferred. It was a huge 6 bedroom, 3 bathroom one-story affair that came with a beautiful patio and a built in fireplace with a barbeque grill. The garage was equally massive with room for the full woodworking studio that he had always wanted. In addition to the bedrooms, the house had a sewing-craft room for Annabelle and a library-study for Jonathan.

  He looked over the printout of their new dream home one last time. The one Annabelle wanted was still under construction. The thought of the 12 foot ceilings would have been daunting if the community fees hadn’t included complete maintenance and cleaning of the estate. He remembered Annabelle’s words; ‘the entire family could stay for the Christmas holidays’. That is what pushed him over the edge this morning. The decision was made.

  He lifted the medium sized safe out of the bottom drawer. It was so much easier to lift when he was younger. He pulled out his key ring with its numerous unique keys collected from a lifetime of service. The top of the safe opened with one of the keys on the ring, like a miniature keepsake chest. The next several hours were spent cataloging the precious contents. Some of the old coins and currency were worth quite a bit more in today’s money than when they were acquired. This would go a long way toward paying the difference between their current house and the new house.

  Oddly, he thought he saw flashes at the window just above the desk behind him. It was daylight, but it almost looked like lightning flashes. He let it go for a long time, but they were becoming more frequent as he finished the task of cataloging his collectibles.

  He had saved the most valuable item until last; the gold pocket watch. It was fitted on the case with diamonds and precious stones that must have been rubies and emeralds. He held it up to the light and examined the inscription. “We dedicate this token of our esteem to Jonathan Oswald for 35 years of dedicated service to the people and the rail system.” It was made even more precious by the knowledge that this was the last of these watches that would ever be given out. No one was left in the rail system that had anywhere near 25 years of service, let alone 35 years. Because of the great expense, the company decided to cut back on the policy and explained that no further watches would be presented to retirees.

  Jonathan heard stories that the special watch had cost the company well over $10,000, but he really had no idea just how valuable it was. In the paperwork for the watch was a phone number for the manufacturer. He took a chance and called.

  Again, the flashing at the window was disturbing his thoughts. Every time he looked, there was nothing to be found. It was always just at the periphery of his vision and looked almost like a faulty fluorescent bulb flashing on and off.

  Jonathan picked up the old yellow cracked plastic phone, and tapped on the oversized numbers. He remembered to turn up the volume before the call was connected. “Hello, this is Jonathan Oswald. I hope you can help me with a question about my watch?” he asked.

  The Anthem Watch Company representative said, “Sure, let me see what I can do. What do you need?”

  Jonathan relayed the story of his work at the rail yards and the gift of the gold watch several years earlier. The flashing at the window still bothered him, but only served to lengthen his story. Jonathan enthusiastically described their possible new house, likely to the dismay of the Anthem Watch Company representative who had now been listening for over 10 minutes.

  “I think we can help you,” said the representative, after listening to the lengthy story. “You have two options. We have a program that allows us to buy back pocket watches. We then remove the engraving and reuse the watch. We can even make a casting of the engraving as a memento for your family.”

  Jonathan wondered if he was the first owner of this watch. It gave him pause as he always thought this one was specially made just for him. If anything, it encouraged him further that it was time to let it go.

  The representative continued his explanation. “Most customers opt for selling on their own because the price they can command is much higher on the open market. Let me look up your specific model.” The representative could be heard typing out something on what must have been a computer. “Ok, I see you have model 1473, with full embellishments.” There was a pause before he continued, “Whew, that is a nice looking watch. In fact,
that is one of the nicest watches we have ever produced. I show in our system that we can offer you $14,000, as long as it has all the gems and is in working condition, but I highly recommend that you try to sell it on your own, first. The last one went out on auction at Sotheby’s at over $29,000 two years ago. It was in pristine condition, but the price of the raw materials alone makes it worth more than what we can offer.”

  Jonathan was beyond pleased at this price. It went well beyond his expectations. He was eager to get off the phone to tell Annabelle the good news. Thankfully, he had already cataloged the rest of the collectibles. He wasn’t in the mood to do any more paper work anyway.

  Before hanging up with the representative from the watch company, he had already begun hurriedly putting everything back into the safe. He then put the safe back into the bottom desk drawer and headed upstairs to tell Annabelle the good news. After relating what the gentleman said from the watch company, he told her about the flashing lights in the basement window. They looked outside the kitchen window that was above that section of the basement. Annabelle noticed a visible path worn through the grass that led to the side of the house.

  “It must be those rabbits again. I didn’t think they would be out this early in the season though. Feels like the snow has only been off the ground a few weeks,” Annabelle said. “The flashing must have been the rabbit going back and forth from the window to the garage making a nest.”

  “The basement window is at my eye level,” he insisted. “I looked several times, but I didn’t see anything going or coming, and I don’t see a nest out there.”

  “Oh, forget about it, you old coot. It isn’t like we are going to get visitors out here. You put everything back in the safe, right?”

  “Yeah, I put everything away. I have the list of the contents right here.” He held up multiple pages of scrawled notes. “Can you call the auction company to have them do a proper analysis?” he asked.

  Three weeks passed quickly before the auction evaluator arrived. In that time the updates required for the house had been completed. The basement was finished off properly, the new roofing shingles were in place, and the kitchen had been updated. The paint was still freshly dried, leaving a new construction scent throughout the place.

  The evaluator sat at the large oak and maple kitchen table that had been hand made by Jonathan from trees that grew in their yard. The safe was pulled up from the basement and the items were set out, one by one, on the table. The process took hours. It wasn’t until the very last that they discovered the watch was missing.

  The three of them spent the rest of the day looking over the basement, the desk, the kitchen, and everywhere they could throughout the house. The police were called at some point and a statement was taken. The only suspect was the contracting company. They had been the only ones working near the safe in the last few weeks.

  The safe clearly looked pristine; however, and there was no indication of any tampering. The only key had been in Jonathan’s possession the entire time. The desk had been covered tightly by the Oswald’s before the construction company had come over. Someone had to know exactly where the safe was hidden. It would have required uncovering the desk, opening the drawer, removing the safe, breaking into the safe, and removing the watch without disturbing the rest of the contents. The question remained; if the safe had been broken into, why didn’t they take the other valuables? This indicated that it was unlikely someone from the construction company had taken it. There would have been dust, paint, or construction debris under the desk cover. This meant that the watch must have gone missing before the construction took place.

  The police officers suspected, and even suggested, that Mr. Oswald likely just forgot where he put it. This only incited Jonathan. He tried to protest and explain that someone must have been watching him when he cataloged the contents of the safe. This only made him look senile. Annabelle explained that they had problems with rabbits and it was likely just animals pecking near the back window that had alarmed him.

  “I don’t think rabbits stole my pocket watch!” Jonathan replied snidely.

  This put an end to both the police investigation and the auction house analysis. Without the watch, the auction evaluator didn’t want to list the rest of the currency and old coinage in an auction. The police indicated they would look around at the different pawn shops and alert the community in case the pocket watch turned up.

  Weeks went by with no news. They turned the house upside down, hoping it was left in a drawer, pocket, or washed with the laundry. In the end, the Oswald’s contacted the lone local detective in town since they had nowhere else to turn. Even with Fred Barns Private Investigations – Detective Agency on the job, nothing new had turned up in weeks.

  Chapter 2 – Saturday 11:58 a.m.

  I guess I should introduce myself. My name is Lily Autumn Stolidmeyer. I am the lead agent for the 4DDA. The agency has three more members; my dad and my two sisters. My younger sister and I do most of the work, but our dad plans to help us with the really hard stuff. My baby sister doesn’t really help, but she is a mandatory member of the agency, according to my parents. We just got our first official case – The Case of the Missing Gold Pocket Watch. Once Dad gets home from work, we are going to try to find Mr. Grumpkin’s, I mean Mr. Oswald’s, gold pocket watch. If we find it, the 4DDA will make $100. That is a lot of money for a 12 year old without a job.

  In order to understand how the 4DDA works, it might be a good idea to explain The Case of the Missing Minute. The Case of the Missing Minute really predated the formation of the 4th Dimension Detective Agency. In fact, it is what established our agency in the first place. Things started at our house, which everyone calls the Stolidmeyer’s Farm. The first thing you might be asking is how could a minute go missing? That is the very same question that we were asking at 11:59 a.m. The second question you might be asking is where did the minute go? The curious thing is, that was also the second question on our minds as well.

  Ok, I have to back up a couple months. Things really got started at 11:58 a.m. on Saturday, July 12th. Well, they really started the previous Saturday sometime just before dark. I don’t really remember what time it was, but I do remember my dad was yelling in the yard. He had just finished mowing our lawn with the big blue garden tractor. He had taken off his shoes, as we all like to do after the grass is mowed, and we took our normal family walk through the yard.

  The wind was low and we were talking about a small bon fire. Abacus and Ivy were going on about marshmallows and hot dogs on a stick. Mom was holding Dad’s hand and swinging their arms while talking about chocolate, graham crackers, and melted marshmallow s’mores. I had gathered up some loose sticks from the yard to add to the fire.

  Dad tripped over something and cut his foot. It didn’t bleed a lot, but it was enough that he needed two yellow bands instead of one. Oh, a yellow band is what my baby sister, Abacus, calls a small sticky bandage. We go through a lot of yellow bands in our house. Not because we get hurt a lot, but the smallest of boo-boos has to get a yellow band, according to two year old logic. As you can imagine, Abacus thought a two yellow bander was pretty serious and almost required stitches.

  We spent at least a half hour looking for whatever he had tripped over, but came up empty handed. Mom told Dad we came up empty footed, which he didn’t think was funny at all. The rest of us had a good laugh, though. Dad was still hopping around until after dark trying to find whatever had caused his two yellow bander. We never did get to do a bon fire or eat any s’mores.

  The next day we forgot all about yardwork and spent the day inside just watching television and playing. It was an ordinary Sunday that quickly moved into an ordinary Monday. Mom made us do our schoolwork like normal. Ok, so Abacus didn’t need to do any school work, but she tried. Ivy and I were stuck doing Math for over an hour and little Abacus was sitting at the table with the four color counting bears. I have to admit she is pretty smart for a two year old, but it sure didn’t help to
hear her counting the whole time I was trying to do Algebra.

  I smiled to myself as I remembered that day. I am really not fond of Math, even though my parents say I am pretty good at it.

  “Mom, Abby is still counting out here and I can’t concentrate on this problem. I have written the wrong answer like free times now. UGH, now she has me doing it,” Ivy said.

  Abacus kept plodding along, loudly arranging bears, “One, Two, Free, Four, Five, Six, Nine.”

  “Honey, she is trying to be like her older sisters. I can take her to another room while you work on your lessons,” Mom said.

  I looked out the side window and noticed the cows were trying to eat the pigs’ food again. We didn’t always have a farm. It started as just a normal house with a bunch of property. My mom home schools us, which is kind of how the farm got started. It is one of those situations where she thought it would be a good idea to learn about raising small creatures. My dad told her that she could get whatever she wanted, but she would have to take care of any animals. Before long we had ten chickens, three pigs, six goats, and two cows. We are trying to talk her into getting us a horse, but that is for another story.