CHAPTER ONE

“A Mystery from Walnut Street”

By Sherrill Joseph

 

Moki Kalani couldn’t stop thinking about three things that warm October afternoon in Southern California. First, his pineapple-coconut upside-down cake, which he had baked for the Mayfields’ potluck barbecue on Walnut Street, was a hit. The guests had gobbled up almost every crumb, and the empty dessert plate in his hand provided the final proof. Second, the four amateur detectives—the twins Lanny and Lexi Wyatt, Rani Kumar, and Moki himself— tended to learn of their next mystery case as a squad. This time, the thirteen-year-old Hawaiian boy had a heads up that required his pledge of secrecy. Third, the secret’s details could finally be revealed once the barbecue ended.

Moki’s newest friend, thirteen-year-old Ben Mayfield, had provided the heads up. The two boys had been playing tennis at a nearby park when Moki sensed something besides sports on Ben’s mind. He had a problem that needed telling, and Moki was a willing listener. Moki had moved to California from Honolulu, Hawai‛i, five years ago. He and Ben had become friends recently. They shared a love of tennis, horseback riding, and surfing. Most important, they already trusted one another.

The barbecue was Ben’s, and he’d convinced his parents to invite the entire detective squad—then hire them to solve an ongoing, annoying problem at the Mayfields’ horse ranch and youth saddle club about two hours east of town. Ben’s parents had confidence in their son and in Moki, so they had agreed to the plan. But now, Ben had his own private reason far beyond his parents’ motivation for wanting the detectives’ help. Last month, he alone had witnessed a terrifying spectacle at the ranch. He hadn’t shared it yet with his family—or with Moki.

Ben walked into the dining room through the patio doors of the family’s spacious Victorian house. In a few strides, he was next to Moki, who set his dessert plate and plastic fork down on a nearby table. Most of the partygoers had thanked their hosts and said their good-byes. Only the other three detectives, Mr. and Mrs. Mayfield, and four guests remained on the now much quieter patio.

“Hey, Moki,” said Ben as he chucked his friend on his tanned arm. “Sorry I made you keep your new case a secret. Hope it hasn’t been a problem. My parents wanted to check off this monthly barbecue before dealing with our ranch situation. I probably shouldn’t have said anything.”

Moki returned the friendly jab to Ben’s brown arm. “It’s okay, dude. You needed to share your family’s problem. I respect that. It was kind of hard, though. We detectives are a tight group that always shares everything.” Moki hung his head, and his thick black hair fell over his eyes. “I didn’t give them any details, but I did kind of hint that I had some information.”

Indeed, Moki had let slip at the conclusion of the squad’s last case that a new mystery was already brewing. He didn’t mention that it was on Walnut Street. His friends had been hounding him ever since. Finally, they would get the specifics.

Seeing Moki and Ben talking, the other detectives entered the dining room. Lanny, the head of the detective agency, was in the lead.

“Okay, Moki, spill,” Lanny said. “Oh, wait—” he turned to Ben. “Excuse me, Ben. Great party.” He turned back to Moki. “Now spill.”

Lexi and Rani set down their drinks and moved closer, at full listening attention. The detectives were more than ready for their new case.

One year ago, they’d created the Botanic Hill Detectives Agency, naming it after the beautiful neighborhood in which they all lived in sun-soaked Las Palmitas, a California resort town on the Pacific coast. The agency had earned local and international fame for its success in solving mysteries and crimes that baffled law enforcement officials. Just a couple weeks before, the squad had wrapped up their second case, Eucalyptus Street: Green Curse. They had spent many days and nights in a spooky nearby mansion, hunting for a multimillion-dollar cursed emerald. As always, once a mystery was solved, they longed for their next adventure. The Mayfields knew all about the agency’s reputation, and now a tantalizing new case was about to unfold on Walnut Street.

Lexi stood with her hands on her hips, a longer-haired brunette version of her dark blond twin brother. Rani next to her wore a thoughtful expression, her intense brown eyes matching the brown threads in the peacock pattern on her handmade sari. Rani’s grandmother, who had come with then five-year-old Rani and her parents when they’d moved from India to California, still lovingly made the saris Rani wore nearly every day.

Before Moki or Ben could respond, a crash and breaking glass sounded from the patio. The five teens raced to the scene. An eleven-year-old girl named Catherine Sims had just shoved twelve-year-old Lionel James against the punch bowl table. The bowl now lay in glittering shards on the cement floor. The sticky red drink leftovers had splashed everywhere.

“Now, what’s happened here?” Mrs. Mayfield asked calmly but with authority. She was strong, as evidenced by her toned biceps, but took a gentle hold of each child’s arm to look them over and to keep them separated. “Are you two all right?” Mrs. Mayfield used to be a school counselor. She now used her training to visit local schools and scout for “at[1]risk” students with behavioral or emotional issues who would be good candidates for the Mayfields’ horse therapy saddle club at their ranch east of town.

“Lionel said all girls are weaklings,” Catherine explained. “I was showing him how wrong he was.” She looped her thick copper braids behind her ears. The scowl on her freckled face promised more trouble between the two. “And I won’t go to the ranch if he’ll be there.”

“Girls are still weaklings, even if you did push me down,” Lionel replied. “You caught me off guard, that’s all.” Lionel’s dark narrowed eyes signaled his plan to get even.

“Next time, Catherine, challenge a boy to an arm[1]wrestling match instead—with an adult referee,” Mrs. Mayfield said. “Maybe my punch bowl would still be intact if you had. Otherwise, keep your hands to yourself. And Lionel, remember how we talked about processing through the term ‘T.H.I.N.K.’ before you speak? Ask yourself if what you’re about to say or do is True, Helpful, Inspiring, Necessary, and Kind. If you can truthfully answer yes to all five, then speak your mind. If not, don’t even go there. The world has enough violence and hate. Counteract those with kindness. Got it?” She slowly let go of each child’s arm as she felt them relax.

“For goodness sakes, Lionel Deshaun James!” his mother interrupted. “You apologize to Mrs. Mayfield and Catherine right this instant.”

After a brief pause, he said, “Aww, okay . . . sorry.” He kicked the ground with his foot and made no eye contact with anyone. But then, he looked up. “Catherine better apologize, too.”

“Yes. You, too, Catherine Renee,” her own mother said.  “And you’re going to pay for that punch bowl out of your allowance. When will you learn to control your temper?”

Catherine stared at the ground and whispered, “Sorry, Mrs. Mayfield. Sorry, Lionel.”

“I accept your apologies,” Mrs. Mayfield replied. “But what’s more important, do you accept the other’s apology?”

The two nodded, staring at the floor.

Mrs. Mayfield continued. “Apparently, I need to repeat to you two kids what’s expected of you as guests at the ranch. Ms. James? Ms. Sims? Will you also come out to the front porch with us, please?” Mrs. Mayfield moved to the door.

The Mayfields had held the barbecue to welcome Catherine and Lionel as the newest members of their ranch’s saddle club. Ben was always in charge of the details. Former club kids had also attended the Walnut Street party that afternoon to share their experiences. All had gone smoothly until the punch bowl incident.

“Oh, and dear,” Mrs. Mayfield said, turning to her husband. “Will you see to Gracie, Ben, and his friends, and get that discussion underway? I’ll join you as soon as I can.”

“Will do, Edie,” tall, muscular Ezra Mayfield replied. “But first, Catherine and Lionel, look right here at me.” He pointed to his eyes. “Now, you listen to Mrs. Mayfield. We have strict rules at the ranch and saddle club. You need to follow them to keep yourselves and others safe. Understand?”

“Yes, Mr. Mayfield,” the two said in unison as they shuffled out with downcast eyes.

Gracie was Ben’s skinny kid sister. He loved his sibling, whose hair was a pouf of springy ebony coils that bounced with her every movement. But he wasn’t too happy to have a ten-year-old mixing with his friends. More important, Ben wanted to shield Gracie as well as his parents from that scary scene at the ranch until he and the detectives could make sense of it. Despite that, he knew that ranch problems, big and small, tended to be family business, and his sister was family. So, this time, even with what Ben felt was a genuine new danger at their ranch, there could be no excluding her. The boy had decided that, this afternoon, he would somehow reveal his nightmarish secret to his four friends—but in private. He would have to find a way.

For her part, Gracie was thrilled to be around the famous detectives. She had taken an instant liking to Lexi and Rani. At the barbecue, the two girls had told Gracie about the henna tattoos that covered their hands and arms. Rani promised to paint some on Gracie sometime.

Beyond tattoos, the young girl had been secretly dreaming for ages to help the four teens solve a mystery. With her parents about to present the squad with a new case, she felt certain her chance to be a junior detective had arrived.

End of Chapter One