by R L Wagner
Everyone smiled. Over our hearty breakfast, we chatted about the wonderful benefits of being neighbors and being so near to old family friends. Rammie kept up his game of stalking birds; crouching low in the weeds, chattering through his teeth, taking careful aim, and then springing into his best sprint, only to plop down rolling over at the last second, foiled again and bird-less. Mom looked happy. She seemed really close to accepting the idea of letting Benny and me stay in Clayton on our own for a couple of days while she returned to the city and worked out her costume deal. I tried to keep Uncle Scott out of my mind. I knew we would travel again, but I didn’t know when. We certainly needed much more investigation and much better preparation.
This was Mom’s time, hands down. Benny and I needed to support her in this. When the theater board first starting working with her, they only had word of mouth recommendations that Mom, though unknown, was a top-notch designer, and she could get it done. Now they were returning to Mom because her designs were a smash hit and their next shows would be better with her on the team.
“Mom, you have nothing to pack but your bag of business papers and the costume sketches you’ve been working on for only a billion months! You just gotta do this. It’s your dream! Drive safe and let us know you’ve arrived okay. Benny and I don’t need to be there. We’d be in the way just sitting at home or in the back of the shop. We’ll be okay! And Mrs. Krebs is just next door.” I can be quite persuasive I thought.
“Thdhss isth uh bbigg dehehl fuur yuhh Mom, Du itth!” Benny blurted.
“Benny honey, I can’t understand a word with your mouth full of pancakes, dear. Drink some juice,” Mom said politely.
If Mrs. Krebs weren’t there, it would be a different story. I giggled and waited to hear Benny’s translation. A large rumble filled our ears.
“Wow! I scared the bees!” Benny burped a good one. “Oh, sorry, excuse me.” He
swallowed and gracefully dabbed his mouth with a napkin. “I said this is a big deal for you Mom. Do it. And, FYI, I have a good feeling about this place. I think you’re right. Being here is good for Sally and me, and it’s kind of an adventure.” Benny threw her one of his sweetie looks. I waited for his big, puppy eyes to work their magic – oh, brother.
“It’s your opportunity, Mom. Give yourself the time. You need to show off and make this first theater deal work. It’s only two or three days. We’ll be okay, I promise! I’ll be in charge,” I said.
“Sis will be in charge.” Benny shrugged his shoulders and grumbled as he munched on more potatoes in his river of ketchup. Wait for it… I could almost hear what Benny thought as he shot me a look.
“Okay then, I’m going to do it! Thank you, everyone!” Mom said, with uncontrollable excitement.
“Awesome! We’ll get the dishes, Mom,” Benny said.
“Go get ready. You might want to call Sasha and tell her you’ll be there for dinner,” I added.
“My goodness, you two certainly are stepping up. I agree, Benny. Something here certainly does agree with you two. Just make sure to call me and Mrs. Krebs right away if you need anything,” Mom said happily. Benny and I hurried from the table with two stacked trays of dishes.
“All is as it should be, Miss Sally,” Benny whispered to me, attempting his deep-voiced English accent.
“Elementary, my dear Benjamin. The game’s afoot. Now all shall be revealed!” I answered in my best English mystery movie voice.
“Now all shall be revealed!” Benny repeated.
Forty-five minutes later, we stood in the driveway and hugged. Mom was talking a mile a minute. “See you soon! I’ve never done this before! Be sure to call me right away, or call Mrs. Krebs if you need anything! I love you so, so much! Everything will be alright.” It was a long hug. Then the packed van with Mom, her bag, costume sketches, and the cooler with sandwiches, snacks, and energy waters, headed down the driveway, past the red Mimosa tree.
“We love you, Mom! Drive safe!” Benny and I yelled to her hand waving high out of the van window.
“It’s kind of weird not being with her and everything,” Benny said.
I knew what he meant. Now we were without Mom and the city. “It’s going to be weirder Ben, having Mom come home to find Uncle Scott back here. Let’s get started,” I said, walking him back to the porch.
The late morning was getting hotter. It would probably hit the mid-90s. Rammie stretched out in the shade on the porch swing and yowled out a long yodel letting us know he expected us to join him. I sat next to the old guy, ready and excited to put our plan of action together, but Benny sat on the top step and whipped out an ancient blue plastic video game from his back pocket and started playing it. I could feel my anger steeping. Benny had some nerve!
“I thought you wanted to solve Uncle Scott’s mystery, so we can find him and bring him home. Now you’re playing a video game that you haven’t touched in years!”
Benny kept playing, his eyes glued to the game. He spoke over its goofy music. “One time I asked Uncle Scott why he wanted to be a reporter, and he said that it was the same as Mom with her sewing and costume shop. He said, ‘It is always best to do a job that interests you and that you are good at,’” Benny said flatly. I had yet to see him blink.
“And my teacher said that if you want to be a reporter, you have to tell who, what, when, where, and why. That’s pretty much the same with solving a mystery. Now we need to...” I stopped talking, interrupted. The game’s little alarm and song sounded, congratulating Benny on his electronic victory. I waited, but not long. He kept looking at the game.
“So, let me repeat, you’re going to play old video games now? I thought we agreed to sit down and figure out Uncle Scott’s mystery?” I got off the swing getting more irritated.
“That’s what I’m doing, Sis.” Benny turned and looked at me.
“I don’t get you.” I couldn’t remember being this angry with him, and I couldn’t imagine him talking his way out of this one.
“I’m nine. I’m not a detective, and I’m not a newspaper reporter. What I’m good at – not counting school, or being Mom’s kid, or your brother – is solving puzzles. I’m pretty fast at it too.” Benny held up the game for me to see. The game was still playing its annoying victory tune. “I haven’t played this game since I was six. Back then it took me over a month to win. Now I can do it in less than two minutes,” Benny said, and shut the game off.
“Okay, what’s your point? Now that you know the answer and just win, it’s not exactly a puzzle anymore.” I walked over to Benny putting my fists on my hips.
“I beat the game in 128 seconds. Not because I know the answer, but because now I play games that are more involved and…”
“What’s your point Benny? You can find Uncle Scott because you play video games?” I didn’t like it, but I interrupted him. I glared at him with the frustration only a big sister with an annoying little brother knows.
“I’ve been thinking. Maybe if I approach the mystery as a game, I could be more helpful,” Benny said.
I didn’t want to get into an argument with my nine-year-old brother about video games, but I could see Benny was not going to drop it. My hands were still on my hips, and I’m sure I looked positively irritated by now. “Okay. Let’s suppose you ‘gamed’ me into asking this. What do you know that will help…”
“What have I learned,” Benny interrupted.
“Okay! What have you have you learned from video games that will help us find Uncle Scott?” Clearly my frustration was getting the best of me.
“You have our list of observations, right?” Benny asked.
“We made a list of clues or,
‘observations’, or observed clues, whatever, sorry, go on,” I said impatiently.
“Okay, Sis. We have clues that we want to figure into a conclusion. Most video games are puzzle games really. The manufacturers make them look like cool, jeweled treasure or haunted mansions or some dangerous adventure in outer space game. But, they�
�re mostly about problem solving – sequential expression, matching stuff that goes together, organizing lots of information at once, and sorting it into different ways to follow and find things better. Game components make players identify diversions, superior rankings, or allow players to make shortcuts to a goal. Sometimes you can even work backwards if the goal is known. After playing for a while, players just do this stuff without thinking about it. Then it’s fun,” Benny said. He searched my face for a response.
“You’re nine. How d o you know about ‘sequential expression’?”
“You live and you learn,” Benny joked.
All of it sounded like what we needed. A minute ago, I was sure that none of what Benny could say would make sense at all, now it all did. I couldn’t think of anything to say. I was feeling pretty embarrassed. The poor kid was just trying to help. I felt a pang of regret for my attitude.
“I’m not saying I can’t figure out Uncle Scott’s mystery, I’m not saying I can. I just think that if I look at the mystery like it’s a game, it might help,” Benny said.
I took in a long breath and held it. “Do you think some 3x5 cards and pencils would help? That was my original plan.”
“Yeah, that would be really good, Sis,” Benny said with his angelic, baby-brother voice.
“Where do you want to work?” I asked.
“I told Mom you were in charge, so where do you want to work?” Benny said politely. He tilted his head and batted his eyelashes. I ignored his attempts to annoy me.
“I’m not ready to go back downstairs so soon. How about we work on the round living room ‘mystery-solving table’ where Uncle Scott left his clues?”
“Cool. We can work in the living room, twin to the pub apartment, ‘mystery-solving table’. How appropriate,” Benny said through a cheesy smile.
“I’ll get the pack, the satchel, our list of clues, and 3x5cards and meet you there,” I said, opening the door.
“I’ll get my laptop,” Benny said, running past me and climbing the stairs.
“Sorry, Benny!” I yelled out after him.
“No big beans, Sis!” he yelled back from the top of the stairs.
It took me years to admit it, but sometimes my kid brothers teasing made an appropriate point and I learned from Ben
13 Inverness
Fifteen minutes later, I was still
rummaging around in Mom’s sewing room. “I think we’ll be pretty good at this,” I yelled to Benny.
“Good to hear, Sis!” he shouted back. Mom attached 3x5 cards onto the hanger of every costume in her shop to list stuff like the date the piece was made, the size, needed repairs, and the cleaning record. In the new sewing room, next to the sewing table, Mom had a bowl filled with cards, tailor chalk, and other small sewing tools.
Ten minutes later, I joined Benny at the mystery table with the backpack, satchel, cards, pencils, and clues list. Benny finished logging onto the Internet as he sat next to a big bag of avocado chips and two, cold orange soda bottles.
“What did you use for a password?” I asked.
“Uncle Scott set it as ‘Rammie1924’. It isn’t rocket science, just saying.” Benny shrugged and smiled.
“So, I propose we go over the lists together, and I’ll write our clues down on the 3x5 cards…”
“And anything else we have questions about,” Benny added.
“Okay, question topics too,” I agreed.
It was a painfully long task. Three and a half hours passed, and I don’t think we stopped talking for more than a minute or two that entire time. This house was the perfect place to solve a mystery. At times, it felt like the house itself encouraged our questions and deepened our curiosity. We sat on every antique comfy chair, leaned in talking against the cool river rock fireplace, sprawled out over the colorful woven carpets, and even sat on stacks of leather books talking eye to eye. We strolled under blooming garden trellises, ate sandwiches beside the rushing creek off of hand-painted Spanish dishes, swung in the canopied porch swing, and even waved from the porch stairs to Mrs. Krebs. All along, I kept writing clues on 3x5 cards and, as always, Rammie tagged along sharing his opinions. We returned to the mystery table, with a nearly empty, six-pack of soda, dirty lunch dishes, and a fully completed deck of 3x5 clue cards.
“Fifty-two cards? We wrote out a full deck!” I spread them out over the table so we could see them all at once. “Wow it’s, what’s the word… daunting?” I said. Benny just stared at them all with a red straw in his mouth.
After about five minutes, I needed to see it differently. “Mind if I put them in a timeline of when things happened, sort of a chronological order?” I asked.
“Yeah let’s try that. I’ll help,” Benny said, standing. We finished and stared some more – 52 clues and questions:
Yellow pad notes
The Harpooner
a dinosaur book
A World Atlas
maps of England, Scotland, Ireland, Wales da Vinci’s notebook
A book on aquatic mammals
The green light
Ramie
The entire third level
The vanilla smell
Uncle Scott’s letter
Knocked over table with tea cup
2 traveling cameras
The satchel
The 2 teeth
The satchel cloth
Coins
Key
Revolver
The camera journal
Sign ‘Expect the Unexpected’
Green/ stars traveling
Artifacts
1883 London
The steps Museum Of Natural History,
Trafalgar Annex
Curator O’Malley
A plesiosaurus tooth returned
A 10-year-old mammal tooth
Uncle Scott’s address
Uncle Scott is a reporter/photographer The man in black
Italian phrases
Man in black’s Camera
Molly
Pub
Apartment configuration
Inverness stationary notes
Camera Obscura
Philosopher’s stone
Article on alchemy
H.G. Wells lecture program
The castle painting
Photo of us on the mantel
New cameras and lenses
Portrait studio
The clay mold
Gloves and foundry tools
Instructions in lost wax
4 boxes of red and green stones from
Guatemala, India, Italy, Tibet
Italian receipt for old gold coins
6 gold keys ready for stones
One-way train ticket receipt with no destination
mentioned “I’m going crossed-eyed, do you see any patterns?” I asked Benny.
“Yeah, sure. Do you?” Benny asked.
“I’m not sure.”
“It’s easy to see what your teacher said – who, what, where – but I’m not sure about the how and why though,” Benny said, wiggling the red straw back and forth across his mouth.
“Show me,” I said, realizing my right knee was now bouncing up and down.
“Here, look for the ‘who’s’. There’s Curator O’Malley, Molly, H. G. Wells, da Vinci, the man in black, and the Harpooner.
“Okay, yeah, that certainly is ‘who’.” Not very informative, I thought.
“‘Who’ is good for telling a story, and we don’t know the story yet.” Benny kept staring and bobbing the straw.
“Well, I think this is probably about the man in black. Or maybe even the Harpooner,” I said sitting back.
“Why do you say that?” Benny sat back and put the straw on the table.
“It’s just my hunch. Maybe because the Italian man in black really scared us. I
wrote down his words in the curator’s office, there.” I pointed to the 3x5 card. “I have them in the pack.” I grabbed it, pulled out my writing and put it on the table. “‘The Harpooner’ was on both the yellow pad and the stationary in Uncle Scott’s pub apartment.”
“I think we need a new rubric; one based on our hunches and our clues,” Benny said confidently.
“What does that mean?”
“Rubric. It’s a schoolteacher’s thing. It’s an understood agreement upon a set of ideas or rules to look at something or do something,” Benny said as if he had memorized it.
“Show me,” I said, and leaned forward as I looked over the cards.
“Okay, we have 52 cards so let’s sort them like a real deck of cards into four suites,” Benny said, grabbing four new cards and a pencil. He handed them to me.
“Like a real deck of cards?” I said taking them and getting ready to write.
“Sure, why not? We’ll sort them into four categories for starters. Write this on the new cards.” Benny took a quick 30-second glance over the deck. “We can sort by 1. Italian 2. Trying to Get Home 3. Mystery Clues and 4. Put a question mark, that being stuff that we don’t understand,” Benny dictated, as I wrote.
“Got it, now what?” I said.
“Good! Now we’ll put these four at the top and put the rest of the cards under them. Some cards might be in both categories,” Benny said. He placed the four categories of cards across the far end of the table.
“We have a lot of ‘Italian’ here: The man in black, his words, the da Vinci notebook, the receipt for the old gold coin dealer in Italy, even one rock post mark for stones came from Colonna, Italy,” Benny said. He moved those cards into a line under the ITALIAN card.
“And there’s a lot of ‘Uncle Scott Trying to Get Home’.” Benny and I moved cards under the top card. “He’s certainly making cameras, and there are the lenses. Uncle Scott is trying to duplicate the gold keys with the stones. There’s the portrait studio with Molly. Maybe the foundry equipment and lost wax techniques have something to do with it,” I said while lining up those cards under the TRYING TO GET HOME card.