The Mudhole Mystery Page 2

  Stacy shook her head. “I really don’t know about you, Jason Birchall.”

  Dunkum whistled. “OK, we need to think of a plan. A way to open the chest.”

  “Hey, you forgot to call the meeting to order,” Eric said.

  “Abby’s the club president,” said Dee Dee. “Let her do it.”

  Abby tossed her a smile. “The meeting will come to order. Any old business?”

  “Yeah,” said Jason. He stuck his foot up. “I’ve got super muddy sneakers. Anybody worried?”

  Carly and Dee Dee giggled.

  “Well, at least, The Stinky Sneakers Mystery is solved!” said Eric.

  “No comment,” Jason said.

  “Now for the new business,” Abby said. “Dunkum says we need a plan. Any ideas?”

  “We should pick the lock,” Carly said. “Try a toothpick or something.”

  “Why didn’t I think of that?” Dunkum said.

  Before anyone could say “mudhole mystery,” Dunkum had dashed out the gate.

  “That was quick,” Dee Dee said.

  And it was.

  In a flash, Dunkum was back with a box of toothpicks. He tried to spring the lock. One toothpick after another snapped in half.

  “The problem is the mud,” Dunkum said. “It’s all caked up in there.”

  “Let me try,” Stacy said. She handed Croaker to Jason. “I’m a fixer-upper.”

  Abby agreed. She and Stacy were best friends. Stacy had come to her rescue many times. “Stacy has a steady hand,” said Abby. “Maybe she can unlock the mystery chest.”

  The kids leaned in closer. They watched as Stacy tried the toothpick trick.

  After three tries, Stacy shook her head. “I think we need a different plan.”

  Jason said, “Let’s try a hammer.”

  “Smash the lock?” Abby said. “Is that a good idea?”

  “We want the silly thing unlocked, don’t we?” Eric asked.

  “Eric’s right,” Jason piped up,

  “Whoa,” said Dunkum. “Maybe we should vote on it.”

  Abby called for the vote. “How many want to use the hammer method?”

  Everyone voted yes. Everyone except Eric and Abby.

  Jason was clapping. “Seven to two. We win!” Off he ran to his house. “Don’t do anything without me,” he called.

  Abby went to the chest. She rubbed off some more mud. “Hey, look at this,” she said. “There’s writing on it.”

  The kids pressed against the chest. “What does it say?” they asked.

  “It’s hard to see,” Abby said. “I think we need some soap and water.”

  “I’ll ask Mr. Tressler about his garden hose,” Eric said. “Maybe we could use it.”

  Dunkum ran to Mr. Tressler’s back door.

  Soon, the man was outside, standing on his deck. “My, oh my. Did all of you come for a visit?” He waved his cane at the kids cheerfully.

  The kids waved back.

  Abby hurried across the lawn. “We hope you don’t mind,” she said. “Dunkum’s found a mudhole he likes to dig in and—”

  “There’s a hole in my yard?” Mr. Tressler said. “Where?”

  “Come, we’ll show you.” Abby led the old gentleman to the mudhole. Dunkum followed close behind. He was a bit worried.

  Mr. Tressler leaned on his cane and looked down at the mudhole. “Well, what do you know—” His voice stopped.

  Dunkum was even more worried. “I’ve been digging here for the longest time. Before anyone lived here.”

  Mr. Tressler’s eyes squinted. “Well is that so?”

  Dunkum thought, Am I in trouble?

  Mr. Tressler saw the muddy chest. “Just what do we have here?”

  “Just something we found,” Dunkum explained.

  Mr. Tressler wasn’t smiling. “Looks to me like you dug it up. Dug it right out of my yard.”

  “Uh . . . yes, sir, we did,” Dunkum said. He wanted to tell the old man about all the fun they’d had. About the shiny gold lock. About the old chest. But something made him stop. It was the frown on Mr. Tressler’s face.

  “This is my property,” Mr. Tressler said. “You should have asked me.”

  Dunkum felt jittery.

  “That’s only good manners,” Mr. Tressler explained.

  Dunkum sighed. “I’m sorry about the hole. We should’ve talked to you first.”

  “It’s too late for that,” Mr. Tressler said.

  Dunkum saw Jason running down the street. He was waving a hammer.

  Mr. Tressler turned around, in time to see Jason. “What’s that in his hand?” the man asked.

  The kids stared at Dunkum.

  Dunkum gulped. They were going to smash the lock on a chest. On something they’d found in a mudhole. Something that didn’t belong to any of them.

  Jason was out of breath. “I came as fast as I could.”

  Mr. Tressler turned and looked at Jason. “What’s the hammer for, young man?”

  Jason’s eyes blinked. Fast.

  Like Croaker’s, thought Dunkum.

  Jason looked first at Dunkum, then at Mr. Tressler. “I . . . uh . . . I . . .” Jason tried to speak.

  This isn’t Jason’s fault, thought Dunkum. He felt sorry. Sorry and sad.

  But what could Dunkum say?

  SEVEN

  “Digging was my idea,” Dunkum blurted. “Not Jason’s.”

  Mr. Tressler rubbed his pointy chin. “I see.”

  “Dunkum’s telling the truth,” Abby said.

  Mr. Tressler looked at each of the Cul-de-sac Kids. “Exactly what is going on here?”

  Dunkum took a deep breath. “I was playing in the mud,” he began. “Something hard and big was in there. I wanted to get it out. Really bad.”

  Abby nodded. “That’s when Stacy got all of us to come. We helped Dunkum pull out the old chest.”

  “Interesting,” said Mr. Tressler. He tapped his cane on the ground. “Tell me more.”

  Abby stood beside him. “Something is written on it. Come look!”

  Mr. Tressler hobbled over to the old chest.

  Abby showed him where the faint letters were printed. Right on top.

  “We wanted to borrow your garden hose,” Jason chimed in. “So Abby could read the words.”

  Mr. Tressler tried to brush off the dried mud. He peered down at the dim writing. “Yes, yes. I see what you mean.” He turned around and ordered Jason to get the hose.

  “Yes, sir!” Jason said. And off he ran to the house.

  The garden hose cleaned things right up.

  The Cul-de-sac Kids took turns reading these words: Time Capsule—Beware!

  Dunkum’s heart was pounding. “We have to get the chest open.” He remembered that he should ask. “Um, Mr. Tressler, is it OK with you?”

  Dunkum saw a familiar twinkle in the man’s eyes.

  “Well now, you and your friends better get a move on,” Mr. Tressler ordered.

  “Yes!” Dunkum cheered.

  “Double dabble good!” Abby shouted.

  “Let’s open the time capsule!” Jason hollered. He handed the hammer to Dunkum.

  Dunkum raised the hammer high.

  “Wait!” said Shawn. “We count first.”

  Dunkum knew what Shawn meant. “OK, you do the counting.”

  Shawn’s dark eyes sparkled. “One . . . two . . . three!”

  Carly and Jimmy covered their ears.

  Ka-whack!

  The hammer hit hard.

  The lock popped.

  “It’s open!” Eric shouted. And he and the others pulled the lid up.

  The kids crowded around. They stared into the chest.

  “Wow, this is so cool,” said Stacy.

  “I’ve never seen a real time capsule,” Dunkum said.

  “What are the paper bags for?” Carly asked.

  Jimmy leaned over and poked at the brown bags inside the chest.

  Dunkum said, “Looks like someone wrapped up objects in lu
nch bags.” He held little Jimmy up for a closer look.

  “I never see time capsule in Korea,” Jimmy said. He reached down and pulled something out. “Open up, yes?”

  “First, Mr. Tressler should have a look,” Dunkum said.

  Jimmy held on to the squished-up paper bag.

  Mr. Tressler leaned over and peeked, too. “What are we waiting for? Let’s unwrap the loot!”

  Dunkum didn’t have to be told twice. “Go for it!” he said with a grin.

  EIGHT

  The Cul-de-sac Kids reached into the chest. They pulled out packages of different sizes and shapes. Some long and short. Some giant sized and mini.

  Abby had a suggestion. “Someone should be taking notes.”

  “Good idea,” Eric said. “But who’s gonna get the paper?”

  The kids looked at each other. No one seemed interested. Not with a time capsule right in front of their noses.

  “Aw, forget the paper,” Jason said. He stared at the package in his hands.

  Some of the kids agreed. “Yeah, forget it,” they said.

  Abby frowned. “Don’t tell me, we have to vote about this, too?”

  “No!” Dunkum said. He was sick of voting. “Somebody start opening.”

  “I start,” said Jimmy.

  RIP! He tore the old paper bag off.

  Jimmy held up a cardboard tube. “Too hard to open,” he said.

  Mr. Tressler pulled out his pocket-knife. “Here you are, young fella. This will help.”

  Dunkum helped Jimmy cut open the long tube.

  “Hey, check this out,” Dunkum said. He unrolled a piece of paper. When it was flattened, he held it up. “It’s a note.”

  “Read it!” Jason said.

  Dunkum scanned the page. “It says, ‘If you find this time capsule, it belongs to you.’ ”

  “Hey, that’s us!” Dee Dee said.

  It belongs to me, thought Dunkum.

  “Keep reading,” Abby said.

  “OK.” Dunkum continued. “ ‘The objects in this time capsule will tell all about us.’ ”

  “Us?” Stacy said. “Who is us?”

  “Is the paper signed?” asked Eric.

  Dunkum looked closely. “It’s signed, ‘The Cul-de-sac Club—CDSC.’ ”

  “Wow,” Jason said. “There must’ve been other kids living here—in the cul-de-sac!”

  “Yeah, long before us,” said Abby.

  “Who were they?” asked Dee Dee.

  “Where are they now?” said Dunkum.

  Mr. Tressler waved his cane. “I have an idea,” he said. “Why not open the rest of the packages? Maybe you’ll find out.”

  “I’m next!” Jason said.

  Everyone watched Jason pull out a tattered book. “Hey,” he said. “It’s a Sherlock Holmes mystery.”

  Dunkum’s mouth dropped open. “You’re kidding.”

  “Nope,” said Jason. “See for yourself.”

  Dunkum looked at the book. “This is so weird.”

  “What’s weird about an old book?” Abby asked.

  Dunkum’s face looked strange. Almost white. “I’ll tell you why,” he said. His voice was almost a whisper. “Because today is May the twenty-second.”

  “So?” Jason said.

  “What’s special about May the twenty-second?” Stacy asked.

  Dunkum took a deep breath. “Today is Mysteries Are Marvelous Day. It’s to celebrate Sir Arthur Conan Doyle’s birthday,” he explained.

  “Who’s Sir Arthur . . . whatever the rest of his name is?” Carly asked. She flipped one of her curls.

  Dunkum glanced at Mr. Tressler. “You know, don’t you?” he asked the old gentleman.

  Mr. Tressler nodded. “I certainly do. You see, when I was a boy, Sherlock Holmes was my hero. Sir Arthur Conan Doyle wrote my favorite books. He was born on this very day—back in 1859.”

  “Wow,” Abby said. “No wonder Dunkum was freaked out.”

  “It’s mighty strange, if I do say so myself,” Mr. Tressler remarked.

  Dunkum couldn’t believe it. Here it was May twenty-second, and he’d found a time capsule. And a Sherlock Holmes book!

  Some kid had lived around here long ago. He’d loved mysteries, too. Probably someone his age.

  Where was that kid now?

  NINE

  Stacy unwrapped another object. It was a word puzzle book. The answers were all filled in.

  Next it was Abby’s turn. Then Carly’s.

  Shawn and Eric came next. Last was Dee Dee and Dunkum.

  The pile of items was growing. There was a dog collar and dish. And a Sunday school lesson.

  A baseball glove, a ball, and a pack of gum. The glove was ratty. The gum was rock hard.

  There were rock collections and pressed wild flowers. And dried-up gold aspen leaves.

  A heavy box of green toy soldiers came next. An empty bird’s nest, too.

  Last of all, a tiny watch. Not gold, but pretty.

  “Hey, look,” Carly said. “It’s the wind-up kind.”

  The girls looked it over curiously.

  “What are we gonna do with all this stuff?” Jason asked.

  Abby started to make a neat stack. Stacy helped.

  “I guess we should talk to you, Mr. Tressler,” said Dunkum. “Do you mind if we keep these things?”

  The old man shook his head. “Do as you wish.” He leaned on his cane. “I believe it’s time for my lunch.” Mr. Tressler turned toward the house.

  Dunkum called to him, “Thanks for everything!”

  Mr. Tressler nodded without turning around.

  “Happy Mysteries Are Marvelous Day!” shouted Dunkum.

  That got a smile and a wave from Mr. Tressler. “The same to you,” he said.

  The kids put everything back inside the time capsule. Carefully, of course.

  Dunkum looked at the square black chest. “How old is this thing anyway?”

  Jason didn’t know.

  But Eric had an idea. “Look at the Sunday school lesson. There might be a date on it.”

  “Good thinking,” Dunkum said. He found the old lesson sheet. On the bottom of the page was a date.

  Abby peeked over Dunkum’s shoulder. “Wow,” she said. “This thing is twenty years old!”

  Twenty years? thought Dunkum. What a long time.

  “How old would the kids be now?” asked Carly.

  “Figure it out,” Eric said. “Pretend they were ten when they buried this.”

  “Easy,” said Dee Dee. “Add ten years and twenty years. That’s thirty!”

  Dunkum’s eyes lit up. “Hey, these kids are grown-ups now!”

  “They . . . they are?” Jason sputtered.

  “Yep,” said Abby. “And they’ve probably forgotten all about the time capsule.”

  “Maybe not,” said Dunkum.

  “Hey, could we track down these kids . . . er, grown-ups?” Jason asked.

  Eric shook his head. “Not in a million years.”

  Dunkum smiled. “Anything is possible.”

  “With God,” Abby added.

  Dunkum liked Abby’s way of thinking the best.

  TEN

  “What’re we gonna do with the time capsule?” Eric asked.

  Carly shrugged. “Aw, leave it here.”

  “Right here, where we found it,” Dee Dee said.

  We? thought Dunkum. I found it first!

  “We’ll take it to my house,” Dunkum insisted.

  Jason frowned. “No fair!”

  “Why not?” Dunkum said. “I found it, didn’t I?”

  “But all of us helped pull it out,” Jason said. He stood tall and stuck out his chest.

  “Jason’s right,” Eric said. “Let’s put the time capsule in Abby’s backyard. She’s the president of the Cul-de-sac Kids.”

  Dunkum didn’t want a fight. “OK. That makes sense,” he said.

  So Dunkum and Eric carried the time capsule down the street. Dee Dee carried Mister Whiskers. He was still
hissing at Croaker, behind him.

  Jason carried his frog a safe distance from the cat. The rest of the kids followed behind, like a parade. They arrived in the Hunters’ backyard.

  “Where should we put it?” Dunkum asked Abby.

  “There,” she pointed. “Under the tree.”

  Dunkum and Eric set the time capsule down near the swings. Beside the big tree.

  “How’s that?” Dunkum asked.

  Abby’s eyes shone. “Double dabble good.”

  The kids stood around. No one wanted to go home.

  Dunkum walked toward the gate. “I’ll be back after lunch,” he called.

  “Me too!” yelled Jason.

  Carly asked Dee Dee to come back, too.

  “Sure will,” Dee Dee said.

  That left Eric. He had to go to the dentist.

  “I might come over later,” he said. “If I feel good enough.”

  “What’s wrong?” asked Abby. “Got a cavity?”

  “Feels like it.” Eric waved good-bye.

  Dunkum said good-bye again. He was having a hard time leaving. He missed the time capsule already. His time capsule.

  Everyone left, except the Hunter kids. They lived here. For a moment, Dunkum wished he lived here, too. Then he could see his time capsule any old time.

  “OK, well, see you,” Dunkum said.

  “Alligator,” Shawn said, grinning.

  Abby told her brother how it went. “It’s ‘See you later, alligator. After a while, crocodile.’ Get it?”

  Shawn nodded. He laughed his high-pitched giggle.

  Dunkum closed the backyard gate. He ran as fast as he could to his house next door. He thought about the time capsule. He wished it were at his house.

  His dad was sitting on the front steps. He looked up from his newspaper. “Are you hungry?”

  “Sure am,” said Dunkum.

  His dad put the newspaper away.

  “Were you doing today’s crossword puzzle?” asked Dunkum.

  His dad nodded. “You know me well.” He stuck the pencil above his ear. “Your mom’s cooking hot dogs. Let’s go eat.”

  Dunkum dashed up the steps.

  “Whoa, just a minute.” His dad had spotted the muddy clothes and shoes. Hands too. “Where have you been?”

  “Uh, just digging,” Dunkum admitted.

  “In mud? Better go wash up.” His dad pointed to the garden hose.