The Candy Shop War
Page 49
“Can we trade the teleidoscope for Trevor?”
Mr. Stott cocked his head slightly. “Without the base, it would do her little good. If she suspects I have the base, she may want more than the teleidoscope. But first things first. Shall we see if it actually reveals a clue?”
Nate gave a nod.
Mr. Stott led the way to his bedroom, crossed to the little marble platform beside his bed, and placed the teleidoscope in the mounting. It fit perfectly. He bent over and began turning a wheel on the teleidoscope. Nate waited, hoping the sacrifice had not been wasted.
“Mrs. White also had a book written by Hanaver Mills that she got from the museum,” Nate said. “We had it, but we lost it in the fight.”
“You brought the most important item,” Mr. Stott said.
Mr. Stott quit peering through the teleidoscope for a moment and turned on the rest of the lights in the room, then returned to his task, slowly fingering the wheel, one eye closed. Nate folded his arms. He paced. He thought about Trevor, wondering whether Mrs. White was hurting him.
Mr. Stott backed away from the teleidoscope. “Without touching a thing, tell me if you see words.”
Nate crouched and gazed into the eyepiece. The message was faint, written in sparse gold flecks mingling with the other colors, the letters warped but unmistakable:
HOLDS
THE
KEY
“Holds the key?” Nate said. “What is that supposed to mean?”
“I assume there’s more,” Mr. Stott said. Nate moved out of the way, and Mr. Stott resumed his position. He began turning the wheel backwards in such small increments that the motion reminded Nate of the minute hand on a clock. Patiently Mr. Stott nudged the wheel, studied the image for several seconds, and then nudged the wheel again.
“Aha!” he finally exclaimed, stepping aside. “What do you see now?”
It took Nate a moment to recognize the words, faintly inscribed in blue specks against a brilliant background of tie-dyed sunbursts, the letters highly stylized:
HOUSE
OF
HAAG
“House of Haag?” Nate said.
“Tougher to spot that one,” Mr. Stott chuckled. “Not an endeavor for the color-blind. House of Haag holds the key.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means I need to research the Haag family,” Mr. Stott said. “I know there are numerous Haags here in town. The family has been well-represented in Colson for many years, no doubt dating back to the days of Hanaver Mills. This is a major breakthrough. The key to accessing the treasure must be a Haag family heirloom. They probably don’t even know what it does.” Mr. Stott hunched over the teleidoscope and began to delicately turn the wheel again.
“You think there’s more?” Nate asked.
“If there are two messages, there may be ten,” Mr. Stott said. “We must be thorough.”
Nate sat on the edge of Mr. Stott’s mattress, not really expecting Mr. Stott to find anything else. “Mrs. White has a dwarf who can jump super far and throw things really hard,” he said. “He tackled me out in front of the candy shop and practically broke my back. We landed on the other side of the street. Then somebody showed up in a car, and the dwarf let me go. I heard a gunshot.”
“Did you see who was in the car?” Mr. Stott asked, his voice remote as he concentrated on the image in the teleidoscope.
“No, it was dark and I was scared of getting my head blown off. I just ran, well, glided, to your house.”
“Probably wise. Some rival of Belinda’s must have been keeping an eye on the shop, awaiting an opportunity. I wonder who else is in town.”
Nate leaned back on the bed, which made him realize how tired he was. “She has this other guy, a big fat dude, who was barfing orange goop at us. It was so disgusting.”
“Here we go,” Mr. Stott said. “Have a peek.”
Nate sat up and slid off the bed. This was the faintest image yet, convoluted letters formed by glittering silver particles:
MAP
IN
SHIP
“Map in ship,” Nate read. “How did he set up all these messages?”
“A remarkable feat,” Mr. Stott acknowledged. “Even if, as I suspect, he was something of a magician himself. I have never come across a mirror system quite like the one in this teleidoscope, with some deliberate imperfections built into it. I honestly can’t guess how he pulled it off, especially with such subtlety.”
“What does the clue mean?”
Mr. Stott put his eye to the teleidoscope again, coaxing the wheel forward little by little. “Locating a map would be a serious coup,” Mr. Stott said. “The first half of the battle is learning where the treasure is hidden. After that, we can try to figure out how to acquire it.”
Nate yawned. He knew it was important, but standing around and staring into a teleidoscope was not exactly keeping his adrenalin pumping.
“Success!” Mr. Stott finally reported. “Have a look.”
The next words were formed by black specks against a psychedelic backdrop:
USS
STAR
GAZER
“The map is aboard the USS Stargazer?” Nate postulated.
“A reasonable guess,” Mr. Stott said. “Let me keep looking.”
Nate sat on the floor while Mr. Stott continued to nudge the wheel, scrutinizing each new kaleidoscopic vista. Nate leaned back. The floor felt comfortable. He thought about climbing onto the bed.
The next thing he knew, Mr. Stott was gently shaking his shoulder. Nate blinked blearily. “Find something?” Nate asked, trying to sound awake.
“Nothing new,” Mr. Stott said. “I cycled back through all the four messages twice, using different lighting schemes. I think we’ve found all we’re going to get, but I’ll check again in the morning with fresh eyes.”
“I guess I should get going,” Nate said.
“Let me give you a lift in the truck,” Mr. Stott offered. “You’ve had a traumatic night.”
Mr. Stott led him out of a door in the kitchen and down three concrete steps to the driveway. He manually raised the garage door and went to the driver’s seat of his truck. Nate climbed in the passenger door. “I suppose we can dispense with the music tonight,” Mr. Stott said. “Four a.m. is a trifle early for ice cream sandwiches.”
Nate snapped on his seatbelt. Mr. Stott pulled out of his driveway. “Tell me where you live, Nate.”
“On Monroe in the Presidential Estates.”
“Near Trevor and Pigeon,” Mr. Stott said, nodding. “How about we avoid Greenway and go up the back way, on Mayflower? My guess is you’ve seen enough of the Sweet Tooth Ice Cream and Candy Shoppe for one night.”
Mr. Stott cocked his head slightly. “Without the base, it would do her little good. If she suspects I have the base, she may want more than the teleidoscope. But first things first. Shall we see if it actually reveals a clue?”
Nate gave a nod.
Mr. Stott led the way to his bedroom, crossed to the little marble platform beside his bed, and placed the teleidoscope in the mounting. It fit perfectly. He bent over and began turning a wheel on the teleidoscope. Nate waited, hoping the sacrifice had not been wasted.
“Mrs. White also had a book written by Hanaver Mills that she got from the museum,” Nate said. “We had it, but we lost it in the fight.”
“You brought the most important item,” Mr. Stott said.
Mr. Stott quit peering through the teleidoscope for a moment and turned on the rest of the lights in the room, then returned to his task, slowly fingering the wheel, one eye closed. Nate folded his arms. He paced. He thought about Trevor, wondering whether Mrs. White was hurting him.
Mr. Stott backed away from the teleidoscope. “Without touching a thing, tell me if you see words.”
Nate crouched and gazed into the eyepiece. The message was faint, written in sparse gold flecks mingling with the other colors, the letters warped but unmistakable:
HOLDS
THE
KEY
“Holds the key?” Nate said. “What is that supposed to mean?”
“I assume there’s more,” Mr. Stott said. Nate moved out of the way, and Mr. Stott resumed his position. He began turning the wheel backwards in such small increments that the motion reminded Nate of the minute hand on a clock. Patiently Mr. Stott nudged the wheel, studied the image for several seconds, and then nudged the wheel again.
“Aha!” he finally exclaimed, stepping aside. “What do you see now?”
It took Nate a moment to recognize the words, faintly inscribed in blue specks against a brilliant background of tie-dyed sunbursts, the letters highly stylized:
HOUSE
OF
HAAG
“House of Haag?” Nate said.
“Tougher to spot that one,” Mr. Stott chuckled. “Not an endeavor for the color-blind. House of Haag holds the key.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means I need to research the Haag family,” Mr. Stott said. “I know there are numerous Haags here in town. The family has been well-represented in Colson for many years, no doubt dating back to the days of Hanaver Mills. This is a major breakthrough. The key to accessing the treasure must be a Haag family heirloom. They probably don’t even know what it does.” Mr. Stott hunched over the teleidoscope and began to delicately turn the wheel again.
“You think there’s more?” Nate asked.
“If there are two messages, there may be ten,” Mr. Stott said. “We must be thorough.”
Nate sat on the edge of Mr. Stott’s mattress, not really expecting Mr. Stott to find anything else. “Mrs. White has a dwarf who can jump super far and throw things really hard,” he said. “He tackled me out in front of the candy shop and practically broke my back. We landed on the other side of the street. Then somebody showed up in a car, and the dwarf let me go. I heard a gunshot.”
“Did you see who was in the car?” Mr. Stott asked, his voice remote as he concentrated on the image in the teleidoscope.
“No, it was dark and I was scared of getting my head blown off. I just ran, well, glided, to your house.”
“Probably wise. Some rival of Belinda’s must have been keeping an eye on the shop, awaiting an opportunity. I wonder who else is in town.”
Nate leaned back on the bed, which made him realize how tired he was. “She has this other guy, a big fat dude, who was barfing orange goop at us. It was so disgusting.”
“Here we go,” Mr. Stott said. “Have a peek.”
Nate sat up and slid off the bed. This was the faintest image yet, convoluted letters formed by glittering silver particles:
MAP
IN
SHIP
“Map in ship,” Nate read. “How did he set up all these messages?”
“A remarkable feat,” Mr. Stott acknowledged. “Even if, as I suspect, he was something of a magician himself. I have never come across a mirror system quite like the one in this teleidoscope, with some deliberate imperfections built into it. I honestly can’t guess how he pulled it off, especially with such subtlety.”
“What does the clue mean?”
Mr. Stott put his eye to the teleidoscope again, coaxing the wheel forward little by little. “Locating a map would be a serious coup,” Mr. Stott said. “The first half of the battle is learning where the treasure is hidden. After that, we can try to figure out how to acquire it.”
Nate yawned. He knew it was important, but standing around and staring into a teleidoscope was not exactly keeping his adrenalin pumping.
“Success!” Mr. Stott finally reported. “Have a look.”
The next words were formed by black specks against a psychedelic backdrop:
USS
STAR
GAZER
“The map is aboard the USS Stargazer?” Nate postulated.
“A reasonable guess,” Mr. Stott said. “Let me keep looking.”
Nate sat on the floor while Mr. Stott continued to nudge the wheel, scrutinizing each new kaleidoscopic vista. Nate leaned back. The floor felt comfortable. He thought about climbing onto the bed.
The next thing he knew, Mr. Stott was gently shaking his shoulder. Nate blinked blearily. “Find something?” Nate asked, trying to sound awake.
“Nothing new,” Mr. Stott said. “I cycled back through all the four messages twice, using different lighting schemes. I think we’ve found all we’re going to get, but I’ll check again in the morning with fresh eyes.”
“I guess I should get going,” Nate said.
“Let me give you a lift in the truck,” Mr. Stott offered. “You’ve had a traumatic night.”
Mr. Stott led him out of a door in the kitchen and down three concrete steps to the driveway. He manually raised the garage door and went to the driver’s seat of his truck. Nate climbed in the passenger door. “I suppose we can dispense with the music tonight,” Mr. Stott said. “Four a.m. is a trifle early for ice cream sandwiches.”
Nate snapped on his seatbelt. Mr. Stott pulled out of his driveway. “Tell me where you live, Nate.”
“On Monroe in the Presidential Estates.”
“Near Trevor and Pigeon,” Mr. Stott said, nodding. “How about we avoid Greenway and go up the back way, on Mayflower? My guess is you’ve seen enough of the Sweet Tooth Ice Cream and Candy Shoppe for one night.”
