CHAPTER ONE

“A Mystery from Eucalyptus Street”

By Sherrill Joseph

 

A tremendous thunderclap propelled thirteen-year-old Lanny Wyatt right off the plush living room sofa. He had been dozing there after a heavy dinner, mesmerized by the drumming rain outside and the fire roaring in the enormous fireplace of the historic mansion on Eucalyptus Street. The immense estate had once belonged to an old-time Hollywood actor and actress. Their portraits, among others, had been staring down at him. Earlier he’d thought it was funny that the portraits’ eyes seemed to follow him around the room . . . but later, lying on his backside, not so much. The thunderclap was the final straw. He had scrambled to his feet.

Lanny walked toward the floor-to-ceiling French doors and squinted through their tiny square glass panes. Beyond the flagstone patio, on the estate grounds, he noticed darkness had overtaken the old, windswept eucalyptus trees. Sheets of rain were blowing sideways, pelting and rattling the mansion’s windows. For split seconds, lightning illuminated the foliage with eerie strobe-like effects, giving the trees and expansive, rolling lawns a surreal, colorless appearance. This was the kind of night anything could happen.

Lanny knew raging storms such as this were unusual in his coastal, Southern California hometown of Las Palmitas, especially in September. It was the perfect way to begin a new mystery.

As if reading Lanny’s mind, his twin sister, Lexi, joined him in checking out the downpour. Their friends Moki Kalani and Rani Kumar, also thirteen, followed her into the room. Almost in a whisper, Lexi said, “Some cool storm, huh? And we finally got inside this famous old house. Plus, we have a new mystery, all in one night.” Lexi beamed ear-to-ear as she pushed aside the sheer curtain for a better view.

“This storm is nothing compared with those in Hawaiʽi,” said Moki. “Palm trees come crashing down everywhere.” He and his widowed father had moved to California from Oʽahu when the now tall, muscular boy was a scrawny eight-year-old. Moki slapped his best friend Lanny on the back. “Not as exciting as a Honolulu hurricane, bro, but still fun.”

“If this was India, there’d be venomous snakes slithering in through cracks under the doors,” said Rani. The slim girl and her parents came to live in Las Palmitas from India when she was five. Rani and Lexi had become best friends instantly.

At that moment, a flash of lightning made Rani’s peach-color sequined sari sparkle. She liked wearing saris to honor her culture as well as her grandmother who made them for her. Rani also enjoyed playfully taunting Moki, and her snake story did a nice job of it.

“Ooh, no more snakes, please,” he said. “I had enough of them in our first mystery to give me nightmares for a lifetime.”

Moki wasn’t exaggerating. He and his three friends, who called themselves the Botanic Hill Detectives, had just dodged venomous snakes and brazen, masked characters to successfully conclude their first dangerous case, Nutmeg Street: Egyptian Secrets. Using brains, technology, and patience, the mature teens discovered who really stole an ancient Egyptian burial urn. The squad found the urn, brought the real thieves to justice, and restored the formerly spotless reputation of their friend, world-famous Egyptologist Dr. Winston Thornsley. His untimely death had been caused by being falsely accused of the artifact’s theft. All those matters were set right now, so they were about to hear their new case.

The echo of high heels clicking on the mansion’s tiled entryway caused the four kids to turn their attention toward their hostess, the home’s current owner, Isabela de Cordoba. Two of the portraits with the creepy eyeballs were of her great-great-grandparents, Emilio de Cordoba and Victoria Delgado. They had built the family mansion, La Casa de los Árboles, or “The House of the Trees,” in 1885. Isabela had inherited the property and turned it into a museum of sorts to honor her distinguished family. The fashionable, young woman had just come downstairs to rejoin her guests.

“Sorry for the delay, kids. I found the items I wanted to read to you. Strange, but the envelope wasn’t where I thought I had left it this afternoon. Anyway, I’m so pleased you detectives are my neighbors. And grateful you’ve accepted my invitation to stay here as my guests. We must find my family’s long-lost emerald. And the noises—I need to know who or what’s responsible for the unexplained noises and happenings inside my home and around the grounds.”

“Well, I have to be honest with you, Ms. de Cordoba,” Moki started. The woman seemed young enough for the kids to call “Isabela,” but they didn’t dare. Their parents had raised them to be polite to adults, and even if she seemed barely old enough to be out of college, she owned a mansion, so she was plenty “adult” to them. So it was Ms. de Cordoba, all the way.

“The thing is,” Moki continued, “we wouldn’t have missed this chance for anything. The only time we’ve ever been able to see inside this huge house was from your doorway while trick-or-treating. By the way, thanks for always passing out the best Halloween candy on Botanic Hill.”

Lexi elbowed Moki in the ribs and added quickly, “And we’ve always been curious about this house and your family, what with our love of mysteries.”

“Why, thank you so much, Alexia,” Isabela replied.

“Uh, would you please just call me by my nickname ‘Lexi’?”

“Of course, Lexi. But how about your brother? It’s Lanyon, no?”

“Lanny, please,” he said, hoping to avoid being endlessly teased by Moki over his real name. “I like old houses, but your home’s connection to classic Hollywood movies makes it especially interesting.” If he could go back in time, Lanny knew he would be a silent film star of the 1920s and ’30s, playing classic detective parts. He had a collection of those black-and-white films and watched them over and over. “Now that’s detecting,” he’d always say.

“Be warned, Ms. de Cordoba,” Rani said. “Lanny’s quite the authority on old Hollywood.”

Isabela clasped her hands. “Fabulous. His knowledge might come in handy, so I’d call this a win-win situation. But now, let’s settle in, and I’ll tell you the story of this old estate and its mysteries.”

End of Chapter One