Mystery at the Hot Pond

By David DeVowe

The new girl upsets class smack in the middle of winter. With her comes troubling change. Shoe Makinen discovers evidence that a double drowning at the sawmill may have been murder. MaryAnne’s faith is a mystery to Shoe as he suspects the outsider, MaryAnne is intertwined in the investigation. What is she doing here? Was it an accident or murder? Will life ever be the same?
A secret kept by Stoney Creek’s most powerful.
An unlikely friendship forged.
Two lives changed forever.
A refreshing adventure of hope, courage, and love; this first book in the Greatest Treasure (Christian fiction) series opens the door of discovery to an eleven-year-old boy, Shoe Makinen. He prefers everything to stay the same as it always was, but MaryAnne DuPree and her family invoke a new perspective of faith in God, and the acceptance of life changes as new experiences unfold. Shoe must overcome his fears to do what’s right in spite of the dangers that have found their way into the quiet mill town of Stoney Creek.

• Language: English
• Publisher: David DeVowe
• Release date: Dec 13, 2015
• ISBN: 9781310715297

David DeVowe

David DeVowe writes Christian adventure for tweens, young adults and those that love a good family read. He hopes to write books that convey a renewed sense of hope, courage and respect for others.An adventurer himself, David grew up in the wilds of Upper Michigan, and reaches into broad life-experience for his writings – from porcupines in the classroom to space travel tragedy. A former rocket scientist, and current pastor/preacher, David incorporates encounters with God in the distinctive characters of his novels.He lives in Minnesota with his wife, the rest of their nine children—and with many of their grandchildren (on weekends).

Book preview

Mystery

At The Hot Pond

David DeVowe

Copyright © 2015 David DeVowe

All rights reserved.

ISBN 978-0692525616

DEDICATION

Thank you to my Creator, who makes His hand visible.

And who has made us all—bearers of His image.

And to my wife, Carolyn for her loving support.

Contents

The Different Kid

Keeping My Distance

A Parade Like No Other

A Box Called Home

The Worst Day of My Life

No End of It

Intruders

A New Friend

The Mystery of MaryAnne

Arrested

Undercover

Witness

A Visit to MaryAnne’s

Problem at the Parade

Turmoil

Justice Served

Epilogue

Letter from the Author

Next book in the Greatest Treasure series

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

Cover design: Michael DeVowe Creative Works

Cover illustration: Hannah Firezar

Cover photo: Dennis Jarvis

1

The Different Kid

You could see she wouldn’t last the moment the door creaked open. Teacher stopped mid-sentence as every head in fifth grade turned to the back of the room. She stood there with a curious look on her face, head held high. High, I suppose, for somebody that short. I guessed she was probably no taller than my nose. Something was different about her, though I wasn’t sure what it was. I wouldn’t have said she was pretty; no girls were pretty. But this girl surely was different.

Different isn’t very much welcome at Stoney Creek. And it’s a big deal here ‘cause new kids don’t come to our school much. Terry Nuckols was the different kid the first day I started fourth grade. He punched the Johnson boys right in the face at morning recess. It was the only time I saw a pair of bloody noses. Terry didn’t get to lunch ‘cause he got expelled for swinging at the teacher. I never saw him after that.

Different doesn’t last long at Stoney Creek, either, and that was just as well with me. ‘Cause I didn’t much like when things were different.

Stoney Creek is where I was born. Well, actually, I was born in our house, only a stone’s throw from the creek. Not much changes here. And I kinda liked the way things were. Mr. Kingman was always there when the post office opened. Lawrence Blankenshine kept to himself, walking the main road at night. Sometimes I would catch him talking to a pole, maybe even waving at a tree.

It was bad enough change when Ricky was born. He started talking the first time he got done nursin’ offa Mama. Now being four, he’s kinda pesky, keeping the house overflowing with words.

Ricky was just about as much different as I could tolerate. He made it so I didn’t mind havin’ to run to the market for Mama, which meant I had to pass by old Mrs. Krebbs’ house. That’s if I didn’t want to take the long way around. She’s one of them ladies that’s all wrinkled up with a screechy way of telling ya that something good just happened. Bless you, son, she’d say. God made some beautiful flowers last night! I think something’s wrong with her. But she’s always been that way; never any different. And not being different—like I said, that’s just as well with me.

MaryAnne DuPree was about to change all that. Never had a new kid come to Stoney Creek smack in the middle of winter. As I watched her standing in the doorway in her long brown coat and gentle half-smile, no one could have told me just how different my tomorrow would be.

2

Keeping My Distance

Friday had started just like any other. Hey, Ricky said as he jumped up on my bed. Look! See what I got?

I opened one eye to the face of a mouse with dried blood on its nose.

It’s a mouse. But he’s dead now. Me and Oscar catched it in the woodshed tomorrow. I sure do like mouses.

Ricky, do you always wake up talking? Why can’t you just be like a normal kid? Just once! Ricky didn’t know pretend from real or tomorrow from yesterday. But two things were always sure with Ricky—that you could find him caring for some critter to death, and that Mama would never have to wake me for school.

Oscar was lying at the bottom of the stairs when I came down. He always laid there, wagging his tail for me in the morning. Oscar was my best friend. Dad brought him home for me in a crumpled box just after I turned eight. He was the best surprise ever—and it was the last time I cried. Mama named him Oscar ‘cause she said she liked that name. It wore on me, and Oscar and I never separated. Except when I had to go to school.

Mama stirred something in the pan. Probably scrambling eggs before she scrambled me off to class. Mornin’, Shoe.

Morn. That’s what she calls me, Shoe. That’s what anybody who knows me calls me—even Dad. Everyone at the mill knows Dad’s son is Shoe. That’s just how it is at Stoney Creek. Folks say that’s just how it is in the whole UP of Michigan. Most people go by a nickname. If you don’t have one, you’re probably from somewhere else.

All set for school today? Mama prodded.

No.

No!? Why not?

We got a new kid in class yesterday and Mrs. LeMarche put her in my row—right in front of me.

And what’s wrong with that? Mama wondered as she piled my plate with eggs.

Well, we never had a new kid smack in the middle of the year—comin’ on a Thursday? Who does that? Besides, it was just fine with Mark in front of me. Now I got a girl. And she’s just…

Just what?

She’s just…. DIFFERENT!

Now, Shoe, honey.

I cringed every time Mama said that. I’ve been Shoe ever since I can remember. But HONEY?! O-o-o-of!

Mama didn’t understand how nice things were once you got used to them, like having Mark sit in front of my desk. Just turning the calendar last week to the year 1924 was about enough change for me. But Mama is one of them who likes things different than they were yesterday. Always tacking something new she cut out from the paper on the wall. Changing the nut bowl that sits in the middle of the table. Same un-cracked nuts, just a different bowl. Mama calls it sprucin’ up.

Dad’s not like that. He works at the mill stacking lumber—has been ever since longer than I can know. Dad is sure to be wearing the same coveralls he had on yesterday. And he’ll smell like fresh-cut balsam when he walks in the door after work.

Mama, I wish you hadn’t brought her up.

"I brought her up? I simply asked if you were ready for school! Mama said, as she scrubbed the countertop for the second time. Now hurry it up and eat or you’ll be late for class."

I usually ran atop the snowbanks on the way to school. Not today. I scuffed along, thinking about my bad day ahead—sitting at my desk, new kid in my way. I kicked pieces of ice along the edge of the road just to make the walk last longer.

It didn’t work. I smacked a brown chunk of ice just as I turned the corner past the Co-op. It left the ground a bit, flew sharply through the air, and caught the hem of a dress peering out below a long brown coat.

It was her. Mary. That’s what the teacher called her. Mary… something.

Oh! she exclaimed as she spun around to spy who had targeted her. Hi! You’re the boy that thits behind me. Glad to thsee we walk the thsame way to thschool!

I offered a fake smile and looked around for another chunk of ice. I had been right. She was different. How had her tongue got tangled up like that? I could see out of the corner of my eye that she was shorter, too. Every other girl in class was taller than me. Most everyone was taller than me. But not her.

Just then Brady took