Finders Keepers (5 page)

Mr. Edmund Clark grumped. “Don't be getting any ideas about changing up my television programs. You can run around the basement. But don't touch my taxidermy or my tools.”

I had no idea Mr. Edmund Clark was an artist. That made him a little less scary. I so wanted to touch his taxidermy stuff.

Alex said to me, “One of his squirrels is posed like a ballet dancer spinning on one foot. It's like something from a scary movie.”

“It's funny! Don't you know funny when you see it?” Mr. Edmund Clark slapped his hand on the table. “I'm building a collection for you and your father, so you have something to remember me by after I croak.”

“Do we really have to play in the basement?” Alex asked.

“Something wrong with the basement? It's an indoor playground.”

“It's … dark,” Alex said. “That one stuffed raccoon doesn't have any eyes. It's old and scary down there.”

“Basements don't scare me,” I said.

“Me, either,” Alex said. “I was just thinking of you.”

Mr. Edmund Clark's voice boomed with the thunder. “I'm old and scary! Ain't nothing wrong with old and scary.” He got quiet, and he leaned closer to us and said, “BOO!”

We screamed. He laughed and laughed.

 

ZANIMALS AND THE PIPE

ESCAPING A DANGEROUS UNDERGROUND PIT

The Adventure
: Escaping an underground pit after being captured by Al Capone

The Place:
A secret underground pit (Mr. Edmund Clark's basement)

The Characters
: Chase Truegood (me) and Buck Punch (Alex)

The Wardrobe/Props:
Ladder (ladder), washtub (washtub), hammer (hammer), flashlights (flashlights), and rope (rope)

Chase Truegood and Buck Punch have survived many adventures, but being held hostage by Al Capone in an underground pit might be their last.

As the team chased Capone and his crooks, the tables turned and Capone and his crooks captured Chase and Buck. The bad guys threw them into an underground pit that nobody could ever find.

Chase pounded on the walls. “Nothing's hollow. The pit's surrounded by rock.”

Buck was all nervous. “We ain't got much battery power in these flashlights. When they go out, it'll be—”

“Pure black.” Chase finished his sentence. “We'll be blind, and nobody will ever find us.”

“Maybe the police will look here when we're reported missing. I have to get back to my team of detectives in Arizona. I have to!”

“The police won't help. They're working with Capone!”

“Maybe your sister Jade will come out of retirement and—”

“Jade is a coward!” Chase shouted.

The pit was full of junk. Attached to the wall was a dirty old washtub with a faucet, so at least they wouldn't die from thirst. Old boxes and stuff covered the floor, and a workbench displayed the ugliest taxidermied animals in the history of taxidermy—two raccoons, two squirrels, a fox, and a bobcat—all misshapen and put in weird poses. The raccoon's legs were turned the wrong way, and one of the squirrels held the shape of a ballet dancer standing on one foot, its other leg pointing straight to the side.

Suddenly, the furry creatures came to life. Zombie animals, aka zanimals! The zanimals inched toward them, growling and hissing.

“What?” Buck asked when he noticed Chase's face.

Chase pointed and yelled, “The stuffed animals are coming to life! Look! Zanimals!”

Buck waved his flashlight, which revealed even more deadly zanimals. “They have poison teeth like the Arizona zanimals, which are the world's most dangerous zanimals.”

“The Arizona zaminals were recently replaced by the Wisconsin zanimals as the world's most dangerous. But I don't have time to explain it to you, Buck. I can see the venom dripping from their mouths!”

Buck pulled a ladder from the junk, steadied it on the floor, and pointed at the ceiling. “We might have an escape route.”

The ceiling was made of wood—not stone—but it had thin orange pipes among the boards. “I've got the hammer,” Chase said. “We'll break the wood and squeeze between those pipes. Hurry!”

Chase and Buck took careful steps up the ladder so they wouldn't fall to the floor and become food for the coming-to-life zanimals. The eyeless raccoon ran into a wall, but the bobcat was getting close.

“You stay on this step and kick 'em away,” Chase said. “I'm climbing to the top even though there's a sticker on this ladder that says, ‘Do not stand on top step.'” Chase pulled a hammer from her back pocket.

“Hurry Chase. I … I…”

“What?”

“I got bit on my ankle while I was kicking the zanimals.”

“Hold on. I'll pound our way out of here, and we'll race to town and get the anti-venom.”

The ladder shuddered with both of their weight. Chase had one last step to climb before she was on the very top. “Keep the ladder steady.”

“I'm tryin', Chase, I'm tryin'. I'm feeling a little weak and a little blind, and my foot swelled up and popped my shoe off. The only people who could save me now live thousands of miles away in Arizona.”

“They ran off with Jade, Buck. I'll save you!” Chase hammered on the ceiling, listening for something that sounded hollow. The ladder swayed. Both of them tried to hold steady, but the ladder tipped. Just as Chase was about to fall to the ground, she grabbed the orange pipe on the ceiling and clung to it, like a child on monkey bars.

Chase screamed. The ladder crashed into the washtub, which came loose and nearly fell off the wall. Chase held tight to the orange pipe. Buck rolled on the floor, groaning.

A split second of silence. Then the pipe snapped in half, dropping Chase to the ground. Water burst from the pipe and sprayed the concrete floor.

And that's what happened. For real. Not the zanimals, but everything else: the falling ladder, the broken washtub, the exploding pipe, Alex and I crumpled on the floor.

Shock kept away the pain. Alex was so stunned, his pupils shrunk into the white space around his eyes. I grabbed his arm. “Are we in trouble?”

Now that was a dumb question. The door opened and Mr. Edmund Clark hollered, “What's going on down there?”

For an old guy, Mr. Edmund Clark came downstairs fast. Rocket fast. He saw water spraying from the cracked pipe and shouted, “The water main! Turn it off! Get off your butts and turn it off!”

I had no idea what a water main was, or how to turn it off. Alex and I stayed on our butts, too shocked to move. I wanted to shrink into the floor and turn into a zanimal, which didn't seem like such a bad life, really. Much better than being a kid who snapped a water pipe in two.

“For the love of Gertrude!” Mr. Edmund Clark marched around the stairs to the other side of the basement. I couldn't see him, but I heard him grump and groan. The spray turned into a few sprinkles, then stopped. I belly crawled to the washtub and tried to hide underneath, but I was too big and the tub's edge was practically touching the floor.

Squishy footsteps came closer.
Squish. Squish. Squish.
I peeked and saw Alex huddled against the wall. A very wet Mr. Edmund Clark sat down on a wood box next to Alex. He coughed and caught his breath before speaking.

“Alex, your mother doesn't like shouting or cussing, and one must respect rules set down by the lady of the house. So with all due respect to your mother,” his voice rose from its quiet place, “what in the unholy firestorms of hell were you doing?”

I faced the wall, waiting for Alex to answer. That's when I noticed a hole about the size of a watermelon. Where the washtub had been hanging was an open space in the basement's wall. I wished that hole were big enough to hide a ten-year-old girl.

“We … we … were climbing on the ladder because of the zombie animals, and we were gonna pound our way through the ceiling to escape the crooks. And the ladder crashed. And Chase—I mean Christa—held on to the pipe to
save her life
. To save her life! And the pipe broke.”

“I better be going deaf, because if you just said something about my art and crooks and zombies, then your brain needs a good cleaning.”

Even though we were in big-time trouble, I couldn't stop looking at that hole. Could anyone resist looking in a hole? Not me. I put my hand inside it and felt around until I found two pieces of paper. I shook off the dirt and looked close. I shouted before Mr. Edmund Clark's voice geared up for a good, long yell.

“Two hundred dollars!”

“Oh, it'll cost more than that to fix this mess—”

“Money!” I yelled, crawling out of my hiding space and waving the two bills in the air. The bills were soggy and smelled like wet socks.

They leaned toward me, and Mr. Edmund Clark took the money from my hand. He tilted his head to look under the sink. His face didn't change expression, but Alex's mouth dropped open.

Mr. Edmund Clark stared at the money and said, “Hell's bells. How'd this get left behind? Anything else in that hole?”

“Not that I could tell,” I said.

His eyes, his whole body, seemed to float away, maybe into a memory. He whispered, “This was supposed to be gone a long time ago. Cleaned out and … gone. Burned.”

I thought maybe he'd lost his mind a little.

“Gone? Was there more money?” Alex asked.

“Enough to fill a suitcase, but … I had no idea she hid it here. Maybe she hid it here and then burned it.”

“Who?” I asked.

“My mother,” he said. “She called it blood money. She said it was cursed.”

“There's more?” Alex said. “Where is it?”

Grumpa patted Alex's leg, and his voice got loud again. “Well, looks like you and the Tomboy of Terror just uncovered traces of the family loot.”

Neil was wrong. The sheriff was right. The Clarks had gangster money, a suitcase full of it. And if my neighbors had enough money to fill a suitcase, then maybe there was enough to save a cabin.

*   *   *

Alex and I rocked on the front porch swing after the storm. We hoped his grandpa would tell us about the Clark family loot, but he made us sit on the swing so we couldn't “destroy the house.” Then he got on the phone, calling a buddy to bring tools and help fix the pipe.

So we swung and waited and talked about the money. Where'd they get it? Was it from bootlegging? How much money would fit in a suitcase? Why'd Alex's great-grandmother hide money in a wall if she wanted to burn it? It was a mystery.

“Alex, why'd your great-grandmother put money in a wall instead of a bank?”

“It was the olden days. They probably didn't have banks.”

“Banks invented money, Alex! That's why people say money doesn't grow on trees. Because it was invented by banks.”

“I knew that. Just forgot.” He picked at the rubber peeling off the bottom of his shoe. “I guess my family had too much money. The bank didn't have enough space.”

That about burned me up.
Too much money
. Nobody said those words in my house. Just words about bills. Car bills and credit card bills and house bills. My parents also talked all the time about the school's bills. The school had no money, just bills so big they had to budget cut my dad. What if they budget cut my mom, too? What if we lost our cabin and our cars and our house? I hated bills.

A car turned into the driveway and pulled up to the house. This old guy got out. He didn't have hair on his head, but his face was covered with gray whiskers. He smiled at us, but it was a creepy smile with crooked teeth. Mr. Edmund Clark stepped onto the porch and said, “Walt Miller!”

“At your service, Ed. With tools.” Mr. Walt Miller gave a salute and flashed his crooked teeth some more.

“Took you long enough. I was beginning to think you had to fly to Detroit for those tools.”

Mr. Walt Miller shook his head. “Duncan pulled me over because of my brake lights. Guess they went out. That man should be in town protecting businesses instead of wandering county roads, bothering folks who live here.”

“Fix your brake lights.”

“Duncan says there's been more trouble out at Capone's hideout. He's keeping his eye on the place.” Walt shook his head and muttered, “Duncan needs better eyes.”

“You drove by Capone's? That's the long way here.”

“Just trying to get around the tourist traffic.”

I wanted to ask about the trouble at Capone's property, but Mr. Edmund Clark was glaring at us. He whispered, “Don't say anything about that hole or the money. I don't need any gossip. I braced the washtub so it covers the hole. Not a word to anybody.”

His words made me forget about bills. If he didn't want anyone to know, then he wouldn't tell my parents about me flooding his basement. Saved from grounding! That gave me happy tingles.

Mr. Walt Miller walked up the porch steps and looked at us. “Guess you kids just learned the difference between copper pipes and monkey bars.”

Mr. Edmund Clark shook his head. He squinted at me. “Christa. That name's a bit too sweet, and you're one slippery kid. I think I'm gonna call you Minnow.”

“I always wanted a nickname.” My face beamed. “And you can have a nickname, too, because Mr. Edmund Clark is too long. I think I'm gonna call you Grumpa.”

He opened the front door and let it slam behind him and his buddy. But he didn't say no.

 

THE CANOE (AGAIN) AND GAME NIGHT