BOOK #8–CHAPTER ONE

“A Mystery from Bougainvillea Street”

“Un Misterio de la Calle Bougainvillea”

By Sherrill Joseph

 

Thirteen-year-old Rani Kumar’s large brown eyes misted as she gazed at twenty glittering multicolored gems set in a thick gold circlet. She moved in for a closer look, causing the tip
of her thick black braid to swing forward, brushing the top of the bracelet’s small glass case. “Yikes!” she whispered, patting her racing heart. The girl thought, If this had been a museum, I probably would have just set off an alarm!

The jewel case’s overhead spotlight also set aglow scores of dazzling, scattered golden sequins on Rani’s pale blue sari. The preferred garment for special occasions revealed her
East Indian heritage and had been lovingly handmade by her grandmother.

And this was a special occasion, indeed. Rani and her three sleuth partners, the thirteen-year-old Botanic Hill detectives, were on Bougainvillea Street, invited by the owner of an
ancestral Spanish ranch house. They were studying a crime scene.

With both hands, Rani beckoned to fellow detective Lexi Wyatt. “BFF, come check out this gorgeous piece of tourmaline jewelry! Prepare to be amazed with a capital ‘A.’”

“Be right there!” Lexi called, reluctant to take her bright green eyes off the colorful Mexican tiles framing the floor-to-ceiling, arched double doors. She pictured women dressed in silk ball gowns from the Old California days, sweeping out to the lush courtyard beyond. Through the doors’ rectangular glass panes, Lexi glimpsed groupings of various-sized clay pots nurturing tropical blooms, kitchen herbs, massive succulents, a crimson bougainvillea vine twisting along a wall, and miniature lemon trees. Lexi loved art, poetry, music, architecture, and fine old houses with their charming staircases and details, just as Rani loved dancing, athletics, her Indian heritage, and gems.

The two girls had become instant friends in kindergarten eight years earlier. Rani, her parents, and grandmother moved from India to the flower-bedecked neighborhood of Botanic Hill in the Southern California coastal resort town of Las Palmitas.

Lexi worried constantly about her BFF. Rani was the smallest of the four detectives and often wandered from the group during their investigations. Try as she might, Rani could never convince Lexi to stop worrying. Due to the petite girl’s agility and athleticism, she proved repeatedly that she was more than capable of taking care of herself. And Rani noticed that the small room where they stood, with its thick adobe walls, high wood-beam ceiling, and closed wood-frame patio doors, surely prevented the girls from being easily separated this afternoon.

Finally, Lexi joined her friend. One glance at the jewelry, and she cupped her face with her hands. “Wowzers!” she shouted, using her favorite exclamation. “OMG, Rani! I could see you wearing that amazing, with a capital ‘A,’ tourmaline bracelet—even though it looks way too big for your tiny wrists.”

Rani shrugged. “Yeah, my wrists. And I don’t think the band’s adjustable.”

“And I don’t think it’s for sale!” Lexi’s twin brother, Lanny, replied from behind the girls. He enjoyed his position as the head of their world-famous detective agency. The teens were heroes well beyond California, having solved mysteries near and far. The boy spotted their host approaching. “Am I right about the bracelet, Señor Del Castillo?”

The girls thought tall, slender Antonio Del Castillo, wearing a dark blue suit, crisp white shirt, and perfectly knotted silk necktie, looked elegant and handsome. He was dressed like a nobleman, befitting this richly decorated room in his large home, which preserved the feel of Old California ranch days. His neatly trimmed white moustache completed the look. Lexi could picture him living in the Wild West days.

Señor Del Castillo raked his thick, wavy, nearly white hair back with his fingertips and grinned. “That’s correct, Lanny. The tourmaline bracelet is not for sale. But I’m fortunate it wasn’t stolen along with my family’s legendary tiara, our cherished Corona Del Castillo, three weeks ago during the break-in here at my ancestral hacienda! You heard about it, no?” Not waiting for an answer, he continued. “A long time ago, Rancho Del Castillo was much larger. It encompassed all of Bougainvillea Street—to its ocean cliffs! It was a Spanish land grant, you know, land given to the first Del Castillos in 1830. But now, the western border of my rancho begins one mile east of town, where we find ourselves here in my estudio.”

The fourth detective and Lanny’s BFF, dark-haired, Hawaiian-born Moki Kalani, joined the group from across the room, where he had been inspecting an old Spanish sword hanging on the wall. “Señor Del Castillo, from my first look at your property when we arrived, I’d say you still have quite a spread—uh, I mean rancho, here!”

The man smiled and nodded, acknowledging Moki’s kind remark.

Moki continued. “Señor, you should know that Lanny, Lexi, Rani, and I didn’t hear about the tiara’s theft until yesterday when you contacted us. We were in England on our most recent
mystery when the crime occurred on your property.” He was referring to their seventh case, Macadamia Street: Hidden Skeleton, a mystery set in Cornwall and centered on three-hundred-year-old pirate legends and lore. “But we understand the local police and federal investigators have no leads yet. Is that right?”

Moki was the detectives’ go-to person for police procedures. His dad was Sergeant Dan Kalani with the Las Palmitas police force. Father and son moved to California from the Hawaiian island of Oʻahu, five years ago after Moki’s mother died in a car accident. Lanny and Moki met while surfing at their favorite local hangout, Mango Beach, and became best friends. Lanny would remain forever in awe of Moki’s many trophies, earned while surfing Honolulu’s treacherous North Shore waves as a scrawny kid.

Their well-groomed host sighed. “No leads. That must be true, Moki, since I’ve received no update yet from officials about the theft.” Then, a smile overspread his deeply tanned face as he clapped his hands together with a loud bang. “Ah, but you four are here now! I know your reputation well and have high hopes that you will find my stolen tiara! What do you say, mis amigos? Are you willing to take the case?”

Lanny noticed the excited looks on the other detectives’ faces. Nothing beats solving mysteries! And when they were on a case, Rani and Moki got to skip school, live an adventurous life with Lexi and Lanny, and be taught by the twins’ live-in tutor, twenty-fiveyear-old Bruce Wilding. He made learning fun with his effective lessons related to their mysteries.

Still, Lanny, ever the voice of reason, was cautious. The Del Castillos had once been prominent, respected rancheros in Las Palmitas, two decades before California became a state in 1850. Two centuries ago, the area was part of Alta California, vast land tracts owned by Spain, then Mexico. But that time had passed. The boy knew that Sergeant Kalani had met Antonio Del Castillo on official business regarding the tiara’s disappearance. But none of the teens’ other parents knew the man. And the night before, all the adults discussed whether to allow the detectives to ride their bicycles to the man’s rancho to talk with him without another adult present.

Lanny convinced his famous parents, Dr. Ian Wyatt, an archaeologist, and Dr. Rebecca Marlton, an art historian, to let them go without Bruce tagging along as chaperone. The detectives, in turn, promised to stay together and ride directly home to the twins’ house before dark. They understood that their promise extended for the duration of the case—if they were permitted to accept it!

They also gave Sergeant Kalani their word that they would not interfere with law enforcement investigators involved in the active case and would share any tips or leads that might help officials solve the crime.

The detectives did not like adults interfering in their mysteries but agreed to all the terms. Long ago, they realized that if they broke a promise or acted irresponsibly, they risked losing their detective agency—or worse! And they also valued the mutual respect shared with adults in their respective households. So, they always told the truth—especially when Bruce prompted them to tell the whole truth.

“Señor Del Castillo,” Lanny replied, “thank you so much for your offer and for having faith in us. But before we can accept the case, our parents must meet you and okay it.”

Lexi smiled. “That’s right, señor! So, if you aren’t busy tonight, can you come to dinner at our house on Quince Street? Please say yes.” The girl quickly clasped her hands behind her
back to prevent herself from squeezing anyone’s forearm, a bad habit when she became excited.

Señor Del Castillo beamed. “Such kindness, mis jóvenes amigos. And I respect your parents’ caution. Sadly, we live in dangerous times. But fortunately, I’m free this evening and would be delighted to meet your families and dine with you— though I’ve met Moki’s father, professionally only, so far.”

“Perfect!” Lexi replied before Lanny could comment. “Excuse me. May I step outside into your beautiful courtyard for a minute? I need to call home to let them know you’re definitely
coming to dinner and find out what time they want you to arrive.”

“Of course!” the man replied. “But I’ll need to unlock those doors for you.”

Lexi followed him to the beautiful patio doors she had admired earlier. There were two sets: first, the glass doors; and second, vertical, spiral-carved dowels mounted within a wooden frame for security. Soon, she passed through both and heard water bubbling from a fountain. She made the call home. The girl returned shortly, announcing that everyone was looking forward to meeting their guest at seven o’clock.

The señor clapped his hands together. “Wonderful. Now, let’s assume you’ll receive permission to take my case. Shall we begin? I’m sure you have many questions.”

Lanny replied, “Yes, señor. I know the tiara was stolen from this room, your study—I mean, the estudio. Was it in a glass case like the tourmaline bracelet?”

“Yes, only larger,” their host replied. “The case was back here.” He turned, motioning to the corner behind him. “It was smashed to pieces. The police took it and all the fragments. I can only hope the tiara wasn’t damaged!”

Señor Del Castillo continued. “Now, I’d like you to see more of my casa. I invite you to the salón. It’s much more comfortable than here in my tiny estudio.”

“We’d love to!” Lexi replied for the others. She pulled Rani along to keep her BFF in sight. The boys trailed closely behind. Lanny glanced back at where the tiara had been housed in its glass case. He shook his head. Law enforcement did too good a job of removing any clues for the squad to follow.

If the rest of Rancho Del Castillo was as grand as its living room, it must have been a community hub for extravagant parties and other special events two centuries ago. Its thick adobe walls were designed to keep the house cool in summer and warm in winter. The ceiling’s vigas [VEE-gahs, huge wooden beams] gave the room a rustic, old-fashioned charm. Lexi liked how Señor Del Castillo’s hard-soled shoes clicked-clacked against the floor’s polished red-clay tiles. She knew that those could cool bare feet. From where she stood, the girl counted at least six arched doorways and a wall filled with many tall windows with wooden bars, mimicking the study’s patio doors. Large silver candelabras were abundant on the tabletops. Crucifixes and images of saints hung on some walls. Then, she spotted it, her favorite architectural feature that she always longed to find in buildings. Across the long room, hugging the stucco wall, a tiled staircase rose to great
heights, along with its ornate ironwork banister.

Lexi slowly turned, not to miss any other special features. “Wowzers! I’ve never been to the Alhambra in Spain, but I imagine it must look something like this home.”

Señor Del Castillo chuckled. “That’s quite a compliment, Lexi, since the Alhambra is a large complex with a palace and fortress. But its architecture is mainly Islamic. It was built in the 1200s, six hundred years before this hacienda! That palace does have touches of Spanish Renaissance architecture, however. My home might best be classified as a Spanish Mission- or Spanish Colonial-style dwelling, like those popular in Spain, Mexico, and California in the early 1800s.”

Lexi replied, “Our house on Quince Street has some of these features—”

“Like the arched doorways and cool but smaller windows,” Rani said.

“But it’s only one hundred years old,” Moki added with a smirk.

Lanny nodded. “A newbie by comparison.”

“Old houses do present problems, however,” the man replied. “For instance, this room is muy bonita in my opinion, but other parts of my hacienda need much repair. That can make money plunge like a waterfall over a cliff!”

Rani nodded. “You need a lot of money saved when you live in an old house.”

Lexi’s hands were on her hips. “Well, in my opinion, an old house is worth it.”

“And here is something I don’t want you to miss,” the señor said. His hand extended, leading the detectives toward a table against a nearby wall. It was covered with a beautiful white silk cloth and held old photos and small objects. “This is an altar where I’ve placed small offerings, called ofrendas [oh-FREHN-dahs], representing my many deceased ancestors. Normally, these are displayed only during Dia de los Muertos [DEE-ah DEH lohs MWEHR-tohs], the Day of the Dead. But I find comfort in having them visible always. They keep me close to my long-deceased relatives as I honor them.”

“It’s a beautiful memorial,” Lexi replied. “I love the sugar skulls for sale in shops here during that celebration around Halloween.”

The señor began sharing more about the special occasion, but Lanny spoke up. “Please excuse me, Señor Del Castillo. I have more questions for you, but we promised our parents we’d be home before dark—”

“We must help with dinner, especially since you’ll be our guest,” Lexi said.

The man smiled and motioned for them to sit on his large sofa. “Then, let’s get down to business. What are more of your questions, my friends?”

Lanny asked, “Was there an alarm system or any cameras in the estudio?”

Señor Del Castillo hung his head. “Unfortunately, no.”

“Where did the thief or thieves enter the house?” Moki asked.

“Through a first-floor window in a back room undergoing some repairs.”

“Do the police think it was the work of more than one thief?” Lexi asked.

“They didn’t say.”

Rani’s eyebrows pinched together. “Where were you that evening? Were there any witnesses to the crime?”

“I was at a concert at Las Palmitas Symphony Hall. And my rancho’s longtime foreman, Christopher ‘Skip’ Malone, was at a movie in town. His bunkhouse is some distance from this casa. So, even if he had been on the grounds, it is unlikely he would have seen or heard anything. And no one has come forward as a witness to the crime.”

Moki asked, “Did anyone provide one or both of you with an alibi that evening? Sorry to have to ask. It’s just routine. And I’m sure the police asked, too.”

“No hay problema, Moki. I told the police that Skip and I had attended separate events when the crime occurred. Each of our friends gave statements, verifying that we were with them, not home, at the time.”

Lanny scratched his head. “What surprises me is that none of your other valuables in the study or the rest of your house were stolen along with the tiara.”

“Right!” Rani added. “The tourmaline bracelet is still there—”

“And wowzers! Was that an authentic three-hundred-year-old Francisco Goya painting I saw on a wall near the bracelet?” Lexi asked.

Señor Del Castillo’s eyebrows hiked. “Sí, Lexi! Goya himself presented it to one of my ancestors. My grandfather donated it to our local art museum years ago on the condition that it could be returned to us for short periods. But I should return it, pronto! It would be much safer there now.”

He continued. “Lanny, the police also commented about nothing else being stolen. They think that means the tiara was targeted for some reason. But I can’t think why.”

“Can you tell us about the tiara?” Moki asked. “Maybe that’ll give us a clue to why it was possibly targeted. For instance, what’s it made of?”

“My family’s tiara was solid gold, inlaid with twenty-five watermelon tourmalines.” Seeing the detectives’ puzzled expressions, he explained. “Watermelon tourmaline is very valuable since it’s beautiful and rare, taking a long time to form deep in the ground. It looks like a slice of watermelon with pink or red in the center and green around the edges. Some of the tiara’s stones even had white crystals, like watermelon rind, in between the green and pink crystals.”

Rani eyes grew large. “Ooh, that makes me taste watermelon candy!”

“Is that your synesthesia coming through, Rani?” Moki asked.

Before Rani could reply, Lanny said, “Sorry, guys. I hate to interrupt, but you can tell Señor Del Castillo all about synesthesia, Rani’s special gift, tonight or some other time. That’s if he wants to know, and if Rani wants to share. But right now, we must leave. It’s almost five o’clock. We promised to be home before dark. And we agreed to have the table set before
Señor Del Castillo arrived, if he accepted the dinner invitation, remember?” Strictly maintaining timelines and promises were two of many reasons Lanny was the chief of their detective agency.

Rani nodded. “Right, Lanny. Promises are promises.”

“Of course.” The man rose and escorted the detectives to the front door. “And I would enjoy hearing about synesthesia sometime, Rani. I’ve never known anyone with that gift until now. I look forward to this evening. And if you like, remind me to share the tragic tale of the tiara—the Corona Del Castillo—with all of you if your parents think it’s suitable dinner conversation. ¡Hasta esta noche, adiós!”

“I know what that means,” Rani said: “‘Until tonight, goodbye!’”

“¡Sí! Muy bien. I’ll see all of you at seven o’clock then.”

“Yes,” Lexi replied. “Señor Del Castillo, I’m sure everyone will want to hear the tiara’s story. I know I can’t wait!”

The four sleuths thanked their host with a chorus of muchas gracias and pointed their bicycles toward home.

The End of Chapter One