Young Zachary Case of the Family Jewels

By Grandpa Casey

With five weeks left, before school starts, Zachary, who wants to be a Private Investigator, reads about a theft in a classmate’s house. After reading the article, he realizes this is what he needs to relieve the boredom. Zachary enlists the help of Larry and Igor to help him find Chad’s Mother’s, stolen jewelry. The four of them aren’t exactly friends; they’re like oil and water. Only the promise of a $10,000.00 reward keeps their fragile truce intact.

Young Zachary, Case of the Family Jewels, is book five of the Young Zachary series.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Grandpa Casey
• Release date: Mar 9, 2014
• ISBN: 9781310232435

Grandpa Casey

I'm a retired Grandfather who likes telling stories to my Grandchildren. Now that they are older I want to share them with everyone. My books are my credentials. A percentage of the profits, from all my books, will go to ZFRF, a nonprofit organization that helps families of people with cancer. For more information on ZFRF visit www.zfrf.net

Book preview

Young Zachary

Case of the Family Jewels

By Grandpa Casey

Smashwords Edition

This story is fictional and any depiction of a person or place is purely coincidental

TABLE OF CONTENTS

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER ONE

It’s still five weeks before school starts and I’m bored out of my mind.  How bored am I?  I’m so bored; I’m voluntarily cleaning the front room.  My mother enters the room, looks at me, puts her hand on her chest, and rolls her eyes back as she stumbles backwards while shouting, IT’S A MIRACLE, IT’S A MIRACLE.  When I hear that, I stopped what I’m doing and stand there dumbfounded, her action caused me to think she was having a heart attack.  Then I realized, if she were having a heart attack, she would grab her left arm, not her chest, and whimper in pain while she falls to the ground.  The grabbing of the left arm and falling down has to be true, I saw it on an aspirin commercial.   

Relieved that I didn’t cause her to have a heart attack I look at her and think, I see the sight of me doing more than you asked must be too much for you. I wonder how you’d react if I cleaned the bathroom. Fearing she’ll figure out what I’m thinking, I turn away; I’ve seen her do that. Also, I need to be careful, I don’t want her to think I’m turning into a Domestic. After all, I do have a reputation to uphold. In this household, I’m king of the slackers. I proudly recall the day she said Zachary, it’s like pulling teeth to get you to do something. If I lose that, then there’s no telling how much work she’ll unload on me. No, I don’t need her sitting in the kitchen, eating bon bons and dictating a list of chores to me.

What can I say; I’m a teenager who’s in that awkward stage; too old to be treated like a child, but still too young to be treated like an adult.  I have no idea what not wanting to clean has to do with being a teenager; but that’s my excuse and I’m sticking to it.

Then I recall the first time I used the awkward stage excuse. It was a Saturday morning and I walked into the kitchen wearing my earbuds. I was listening to the Top 40 Countdown and the blaring of a song drowned out my mother shouting, WATCH OUT. I was doing a twirl when I inadvertently bumped into my mom; causing her to drop three eggs. Looking at the mess, I blurted out, I’m sorry. My mom stood there, not saying a word. Her silence made me feel I had to say something. I don’t know why, but I said, It’s not my fault, I’m in that awkward stage. Needless to say, that didn’t satisfy her. She shook a spoon at me and said, Nice try, but you’ll have to do better than that. Now clean up that mess before I…. For some reason, she stopped talking and stammered out of the room. Because of that kind of reaction, I never used that phrase again; at least not around her….

I stop reminiscing when I hear, Earth to Zachary, while snapping her fingers, only a few inches from my face, my mom continues, Zachary, come in Zachary; are you in there? It was a joke, I was faking the heart attack. Before I can acknowledge, she continues with, Zachary, even you have to admit that this is a first, you never clean without being told too.

Realizing that I can milk this into something, I change the subject, sit down, give her a sorrowful look and say, Sorry Mom, it’s just that the shock of you having a heart attack got to me.

With a sympathetic look, she says, Oh, that’s so sweet. My mom walks around the room and while inspecting my work, she continues saying, My, my, my, this is a pleasant surprise, thank you for cleaning under the cushions. When I said vacuum the front room, I wasn’t expecting this.  She walks around the room one more time.  Good JOB! Then she turns to me and says, In honor of this momentous event, what would you like for supper?  Name it and it’s yours. Then, she proudly says, I was going to make a spinach casserole, but I can change that.  Sensing my hesitation, she continues, I’m sure there must be something you would prefer for supper.  I stand there in shock, not knowing what to say.  Don’t worry, she says, I won’t feel slighted if you don’t want the casserole; we can have it tomorrow. Come on now, don’t be shy; tell me what you want your preference is.

I didn’t answer her right away because I was trying to figure out why she asked. She never asks me what I want for dinner. WAIT, I’ll take that back, there was a time when she always asked me about dinner. Then I recall the last time she asked, which was over a year ago. I was watching TV and she walked up to me with a serious look on her face. I looked at her and feared I was in trouble. The last time she looked at me like that, was when she came home and discovered the toilet seat was broken.

Yes, the broken seat was my fault. I couldn’t very well deny it; I was the only one home when it broke. When I plopped myself on the seat, instead of a relaxing experience, I received a sudden pain in a very sensitive area. Horrified by what might have happened, I jumped up and examined my privates. Satisfied that nothing is bleeding or missing, I stared at the broken seat, wondering what to do about the broken seat. It was the second one I’ve had the misfortune of breaking that year and the year still had eight more months left.

While pulling my pants up, I mumbled, "Dad, I should blame you for this one. When we went to the Bargain Emporium, to