CHAPTER ONE

“A Mystery from Upas Street”

By Sherrill Joseph

Lanny Wyatt’s whistle was ear-piercing as he grasped the top of his head with both hands. His dark-blond curls were a tangled mess. No matter. His hair was nothing compared to what his blue-violet eyes spotted.

As the leader of the Botanic Hill Detectives Agency that aimed to right wrongs and bring criminals to justice, Lanny had witnessed extraordinary sights in his thirteen years. They were mostly people sharing acts of kindness and generosity. Unfortunately, he had also seen far too much selfishness, cruelty, and disregard for the law.

He and his three sleuth partners were not new to their favorite pastime, tackling serious mysteries that no one else could solve. In fact, the four resourceful teens were famous! They had just finished their fifth case, Jacaranda Street: Gravestone Image, a challenging and dangerous assignment, set in a spooky Victorian mansion. Using gravestone symbols and an image, the detectives exposed many secrets and truths to the world about the late, great American Gothic horror writer Edgar Allan Poe.

But at this moment, what stared back at Lanny from the living room wall in Mr. and Mrs. Llewellyn’s cozy apartment on Upas [YOU-pus] Street was a perfect example of one of those magnificent, welcome sights—one of the best he had ever seen! The increasing winds rattling an old, nearby window, and an electrical storm forecasted within the hour in his Botanic Hill neighborhood in the coastal town of Las Palmitas, California, could not distract him.

Ruddy-complexioned, middle-aged Mr. James Llewellyn, with his eyeglasses resting on the end of his bulbous nose, smiled as he strolled from the dining room toward Lanny. Gesturing with a pudgy hand to the object that captivated the boy, he said, “I knew that would grab your attention. That’s why Mrs. Llewellyn and I invited all of you here.”

A grinning Lanny spun to face the man. “Is that what I think it is, Mr. Llewellyn? An authentic piece of memorabilia from The Golden Age of Hollywood? Where did you get it?”

Mr. Llewellyn gently grasped the boy’s shoulder and chuckled. “I’m proud to say, yes, it is. The photo is a family heirloom now. More about that later. You know, I was certain you’d spot it within five minutes of arriving.”

“Boy, did I!” the observant, brainiac Lanny replied. “And I’ve been wanting to meet you for ages. Next to my favorite fictional detective hero Sherlock Holmes, classic movies are the most awesome things in the world to me.”

Mr. Llewellyn was a long-time film historian and preservationist who worked remotely from home Mondays through Thursdays for Universal Pictures.

Lanny’s three partners—twin sister, Lexi Wyatt, and their two best friends, Moki Kalani and Rani Kumar—were present and had heard the boy’s loud whistle.

Next to them stood tall, laughing Mrs. Sara Llewellyn, balancing a tray of refreshments in her hands. Four days a week, she bicycled a mile away to her job on Lotus Street as an image authenticator and documentary filmmaker at the ARC—the Antiquities Research Collective—where Lanny and Lexi’s parents worked.

What enthralled Lanny and the rest of the squad was a unique, glossy black-and-white photograph! Its large, gilded frame emphasized how much the Llewellyns valued the object it protected.

Lexi clicked her tongue as she brushed her shoulder-length brown hair from her face. “You bet he’d spot it, Mr. Llewellyn. Lanny zeroes in on everything vintage Hollywood, especially films and movie objects from the 1930s and ’40s.” She leaned closer and squinted. “Is that really what it is?”

Lanny did not need to wait for Mr. Llewellyn to answer. “That’s exactly what it is, sis.”

Moki Kalani’s eyebrows furrowed. “But bro, what is it a photo of?” He and Lanny had been best friends since Moki and his policeman father moved to Las Palmitas five years ago. Moki’s mother had died in a car accident on the Hawaiian island of Oʻahu, Moki’s birthplace. Father and son made a fresh start in California.

“Dude, it’s an amazing aerial photo—that means taken from high overhead—of Dr. Henry Frankenstein’s laboratory from the 1931 Universal Pictures classic horror movie Frankenstein. It’s where the mad scientist created and brought to life his monster by harnessing energy from lightning. The doc made more monsters—in the cool 1935 sequel, Bride of Frankenstein, and in 1939’s Son of Frankenstein.”

Moki rolled his eyes. “Thanks, bro, and, uh, I already knew what ‘aerial’ meant.”

Another of Lanny’s passions was words. Helping others build their vocabulary brought out his inner teacher, often to the dismay of his fellow detectives. They nicknamed him “Lanny the Lexicon” and “Professor Lanny.”

Lexi winked at Rani, her best friend for eight years since Rani, her parents, and grandmother had moved from India. “Moki, I’m sure you know that Dr. Frankenstein made his monster by stitching together bloody parts from freshly dead bodies he’d stolen from graveyards and dissecting labs. He took the bodies back to his dark, spooky la-BOR-uh-tree,”—rolling her r’s—“laid them out on his experimentation table, cut out the organs, and—”

Moki shivered. “I don’t focus on that part—uh, parts. I haven’t seen the movie, but I’ve heard about it.”

Lexi and Rani high-fived and snickered. They often enjoyed making big, strong Moki squirm. Next to Hawaiʻi, his favorite place was Disneyland, not cemeteries. And he was no fan of his or anyone’s spurting blood, real or fake.

But then, Rani’s eyebrows furrowed. “Lanny, how can you be so sure that’s what the photograph shows?

“Because I’ve watched that movie at least 100 times— and not only on Halloween. It’s been rated one of the best motion pictures ever made,” giving a fist pump.

Lexi pointed to some squiggly marks on the photo. “What’re those?”

“Those are what make this photo even more golden.” Lanny sighed deeply, then continued. “Those are the autographs of Boris Karloff, Kenneth Strickfaden, and Jack Pierce!”

“Wow,” said Rani. “I know who Boris Karloff was. He was a great actor, especially famous for portraying Dr. Frankenstein’s monster, and the Mummy, among other ghouls. I think many people still admire and prefer his version of the Frankenstein creature. For me, and probably for others, it’s his image of the monster that pops into mind haunting us, way beyond Halloween.”

Lanny nodded. “Yep! It’s iconic—which means famous and forever memorable. Mr. Karloff could also act with his hands, but especially with his eyes. They could send chills down your spine one second, then turn soft and make you feel sorry for him the next. He created pathos [pronounced PAY-thaas], an emotional response, in moviegoers so they’d connect with the monster and take his side out of pity. It’s sad that Mr. Karloff walked with a lurch from back injuries he got from acting, but he had an amazing velvety, lisping voice that made you want to listen to him forever. Watch How the Grinch Stole Christmas. The Grinch and the narrator are voiced by Boris Karloff!”

Lanny then turned to Mr. Llewellyn. “I know who Jack Pierce was—the incredible makeup artist pioneer who used actual makeup, not masks, to turn Boris Karloff and other actors into monsters. He’s still respected by makeup artists today. But who was Kenneth Strickfaden?”

“Ah, Ken Strickfaden,” Mr. Llewellyn replied. “He was an inventor, science educator, electrical genius, and one of Hollywood’s first special effects experts. He worked on over 100 films and television shows, many at Universal Pictures, from the 1920s to the 1980s!

“He loved his work at movie studios, usually appearing behind the scenes, and was very humble. He preferred crediting the actors and directors, not himself, with a movie’s success. So, he was often forgotten and not listed in the credits. He had many nicknames due to his craft and skill, one of which was ‘Dr. Frankenstein’s electrician’! He designed, built, and controlled the laboratory’s amazing electrical whiz-bang machinery we see spitting all those electrical charges, flashes, sparks, and lightning bolts in real time—not computer generated—that brought the creature to life one dark night. In fact, Strickfaden even designed Dr. Frankenstein’s laboratory.”

Lexi placed her hands on her hips. “Wowzers. I can see why that photo is so valuable. You know, I’ve read Mary Shelley’s book Frankenstein, so I’m wondering why I’ve never seen any of those movies. I mean, Lanny, we live in the same house, after all.”

Lanny copied his sister’s hands-on-hips gesture. “I can tell you why. First, sis, you always say books are better than their movies. And second, you claim not to like ‘old movies’ and leave the room whenever one comes on.”

Rani cocked her head at Lexi. “Wow. I’ve known you for eight years, but I didn’t know that. Those vintage movies are the best! Unlike so many movies today, the oldies show when life was simpler. That can be fun and refreshing. Plus, they tend to take more time building a story and revealing the characters than movies now.”

“Right, Rani,” Lanny replied. “But did you also know that those films are really like most films today because, well, people are still people! We share many of the same feelings and values—like the need for friends, love, family, respect, fun, and success. Some things don’t change over time. In fact, they endure.”

He added, “And people today are still making the same kinds of mistakes people made years ago. Those are some reasons why we go to movies, so we can learn from the actors how to become our best selves and get out of a jam, or problem, we or others put on us.”

“Well spoken, Lanny,” Mr. Llewellyn replied. “And movies can be a fun way to learn history—”

“Yeah!” shouted Rani. “I love looking back at the clothes, hairstyles, cars, and what kids did before cellphones and social media. And I agree with Lanny about our basic values being mostly the same, then and now.”

“True, Rani and Lanny,” Mr. Llewellyn replied. “Sometimes, we must dive into the past to understand the present and where we’re headed. For example, we can learn from those pioneers of the film industry and appreciate how they paved the way. Many of us in the movie business talk about them fondly every day.”

Mrs. Llewellyn nodded. “And, you know, it’s important not to limit ourselves. You never know what you might learn or enjoy when you keep an open mind. And when we watch vintage movies, we can honor the creativity and diversity of styles from those screenwriters, directors, actors, cinematographers—the people behind the cameras—and the other artists. Their efforts were groundbreaking in their day, worthy of our appreciation. Without vintage movies from the nineteenth and twentieth centuries, we wouldn’t have the movies or special effects we enjoy in the twenty-first!”

Mr. Llewellyn said, “Speaking of Frankenstein and that photo, how perfect is it that a big storm is brewing right now? Mwah-ha-ha!” He rubbed his palms together.

Lanny laughed. “Yeah. Very cool!”

“Mrs. Llewellyn, don’t you and Mr. Llewellyn live somewhere else sometimes, away from Las Palmitas, where the weather can get colder?” Lexi asked.

The woman smiled. “Yes, Lexi. We spend most weekends at our other home about one hundred miles north of here in the old Welsh village of Llanfair.”

Moki shook his head. “Welsh? Llanfair?”

Mrs. Llewellyn chuckled. “How about if first, all of you grab some refreshments? Then, come join Mr. Llewellyn and me in the living room by the fire where it’s cozy. We’ll tell you all about the village.”

Everyone filled their plates with yummy-looking brownies, juggled cups of hot tea, and sat in the living room. The detectives’ eyes were trained on their hosts.

“Now, to Moki’s questions,” Mrs. Llewellyn said. “Welsh refers to the country of Wales, which borders England on the west. Wales and England are part of the United Kingdom, the ‘U.K.’”

She continued. “Llanfair is a village settled in California by the Welsh in 1900. The population has held steady all these years. We grew up there and love it.”

“Right,” Mr. Llewellyn added. “Llanfair is in a valley.  Settlers once mined for iron and copper in the mountains. There are also fields and meadows with grazing sheep and apple orchards. Llanfair is still quite isolated—except for weekend tourists, mainly from Los Angeles.”

Lexi sighed. “It sounds so peaceful there. Is that why tourists visit Llanfair—for relaxation and fresh air?”

Mr. Llewellyn looked down at the carpet, then back at the girl. “Not entirely, Lexi. They used to come to be frightened! But now, well . . . tourism has taken a huge plunge in the last couple of months.”

“Frightened?” Lanny asked. “What’s that about? And why the big drop in tourism?”

Mr. Llewellyn replied, “Apparently, someone’s been setting fire to tourists’ cars, the meadows, and some village buildings. Weekend tourism has slowed to a trickle in the past few months. That’s hurt businesses that depend on visitors’ money. In fact, our museum attendance has fallen dramatically, so our charity is losing out.”

Moki cringed. “What about the ‘frightened’ part?”

“The tourists used to come to get frightened on purpose,” Mrs. Llewellyn replied. “It has to do with the history of the place as well as the museum we own and operate—The Frankenstein Laboratory Museum.”

Lanny sat up. “Frankenstein! So, there’s a horror movie tie-in to the village, your business, and tourism?”

“A huge tie-in,” Mr. Llewellyn replied.

Lanny’s face could have lit up the room.

Mr. Llewellyn said, “You see, on a hill in Llanfair are the remains of an old watchtower. Universal Pictures used it in 1931 to film part of its first Frankenstein movie. Now, it’s a museum that Mrs. Llewellyn and I own and operate. That photo here on our wall shows the interior.”

Now, Lanny was on his feet. “OMG! Do you mean inside that Llanfair tower is the original laboratory of Dr. Frankenstein, the one in the movie? With all the lab equipment and machines, too?”

“Yes, to both questions,” James Llewellyn replied. “But it isn’t so much the tower that frightens people.”

“What is it, then, Mr. Llewellyn?” Lexi asked.

“On moonless nights, some . . . thing . . . glowing bright green has been spotted roaming the countryside! Locals call it the ‘Shocking Specter.’”

“Whoa!” Lanny replied. “I’d say we have a bunch of mysteries there. Mr. and Mrs. Llewellyn, how would you like it if we Botanic Hill detectives investigate?”

End of Chapter One