The Crossword Puzzle Mystery: The Mysteries of Whisper Bay, #1

By Julie R. Neidlinger

Opening the newspaper can be dangerous.

 

​Helene, Marta, and Jimmy find out firsthand that newspapers and books can be tricky things. When mysterious robberies start popping up in the region, they realize they've landed right in the middle of a clever scheme and some bold burglars. Using maps and their code-solving skills, the three are determined to get to the bottom of what's going on.

 

New friends can be hard to trust, and sometimes old friends can't be trusted at all. But the mystery club members learn that not only can they trust each other, more importantly they can trust in God, even when the situation is scary.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lone Prairie Art Works
• Release date: Oct 4, 2023
• ISBN: 9798224046942

Julie R. Neidlinger

Julie R. Neidlinger is an artist, writer, and private pilot from North Dakota. She has loved Jesus since she was a small girl. She enjoys reading, especially mysteries.

Book preview

A Not-So-Great Idea

––––––––

I looked over at Marta, my flashlight catching the sight of three wood ticks crawling up the short sleeve of her t-shirt. I had to concentrate hard to keep from screaming.

I did not like arachnids. I wasn’t squeamish around snakes or mice or other bugs, but arachnids were something else. I wondered how many ticks were on my own arms and legs. How many spiders were all around me, dropping slowly from the tree branches above into my hair?

I want out of here, I thought, pulling the hood on my sweatshirt up over my head. Maybe it was the bugs, maybe it was because of what we were there to do. I didn’t know. It was all I could do to keep from leaping to my feet and running away. Not that I could run fast enough to get the bugs off, of course, or even see the way through the trees in the dark.

Instead, we had to be absolutely still because in front of us, some serious crime was going down. It was crime we would never have been involved in if we hadn’t gone to vacation Bible school at church.

Yes, you heard that right.

The whole thing started there.

A few weeks earlier, Marta and I found ourselves staring at a piñata getting smashed to bits in the church basement. I’ve always found piñatas kind of fascinating, and apparently so did Rodney, the third grader chasing it with a mini bat.

All that work to create a pretty shell of paper-mâché and paint, knowing it would be destroyed.

This piñata looked like a globe, though Africa seemed a little too close to Antarctica. Our theme for the week of Bible school was missions around the world with Friday, the last day, focusing on Mexico. But I wasn’t sure, as I watched Rodney take another whack at the round blue and green piñata, that we should be hammering a globe after a week of talking about loving the people of the world.

Maybe it wouldn’t have been so bad if there was candy or something fun inside falling out every time Rodney made contact. But there wasn’t. Whenever Rodney managed to connect with the bat, there was a snowstorm of tiny bits of paper that floated to the floor.

Rodney is getting a little carried away, Marta commented, standing next to me and watching the spectacle. Once in a while she’d reach down and pick up some of the pieces of paper that flew out of the piñata.

I agreed, watching the mini-bat whiz around. They probably shouldn’t have blindfolded him, I said, looking around and realizing that he wasn’t the only source of chaos.

Marta’s dad Tony, the principal of the local public school and a former Marine drill sergeant who sort of scared everybody into obedience, had made some authentic Mexican food for lunch that final day of VBS.

I guess he didn’t get the memo about the older church ladies not having a hankering for spicy foods. My own mouth was on fire, but having eaten at Marta’s house a lot, I was prepared for it.

The church ladies weren’t.

There wasn’t nearly enough milk to deal with the aftermath of all that hot pepper, though there were plenty of tears. It had been the quietest lunch we’d had all week, with the kids gasping for air to cool their burning taste buds, a few tearful faces hid behind napkins.

In a way, it seemed fitting. After we’d sung our final songs and finished up our Bible school workbooks, reciting our daily memory verses with scorched mouths, we had a kid beat up a piñata.

But filling it with paper instead of candy?

Disappointing.

And kind of dangerous, because there were about 30 kids grabbing at the paper while Rodney was still swinging at the piñata. He was going to destroy it, not just break it open, and we were putting our heads on the line.

Rodney seems a bit angry for coming off a week of Bible learning, I said as both Marta and I were showered with another round of paper bits that fluttered down like leaves.

I bent down to grab a few slips of paper, and I could feel the bat whiz just over my head, missing me probably by an inch. One of the teachers screamed, so I looked up with a few pieces of paper clutched in my hand and saw the piñata just about to release from the thumbtack holding it in place on the ceiling.

Marta, can you imagine the mess we’d have if that piñata came loose?

That would be hilarious, she said, still looking down and grabbing at paper.

Good news. You don’t have to imagine.

She stood up quickly so she wouldn’t miss the show, the thumbtack giving way at just that moment.

Like a soaring dead bird with its feathers plucked, the severely beaten piñata wafted through the air of the church basement right towards the buffet counter where the remains of the scorching lunch and a pitcher of lemonade sat on the counter. A trail of paper from the piñata’s insides followed behind it in the air, creating a kind of pretty contrail.

The church basement really was too small for this kind of thing, especially considering that most of the older ladies who normally would be in the kitchen protecting the food and surroundings from this sort of harm were still lined up at the water fountain trying to put out the fire in their mouths.

The lemonade was in the clear. The tamales, not so much.

I got back to the task at hand, grabbing at whatever paper bits I could. Most of the papers in my hand had Bible verses on them. One had a red star sticker and the word winner.

What’s this for? I asked Marta, pushing the starred paper in her face. She was back grabbing at all the papers she could, no longer interested in the drama of a broken paper globe that sat in the midst of our lunch. There was still a whirring bat in the mix because no one had told Rodney that the piñata was gone and to take off his blindfold.

You take it over to the prize table and pick something, she said. But before you can claim a prize, you have to quote one of our memory Bible verses from this week or memorize the verse on the piece of paper. All of the papers have one on them.

I started grabbing at the papers just as frantic as Marta was, except I was trying to find one with a shorter Bible verse.

I hope they put John 11:35 on one of these, I thought. Memorization wasn’t my strong point.

Church prizes are kind of like church lemonade. They’re OK, but sometimes not great. The church ladies would use just enough drink mix to color the water yellow and give it a hint of flavor, and by doing so could extend the life of one can of powdered drink mix for several years’ worth of church events. I bet I’d be drinking that same lemonade mix when I graduated from high school.

On the other hand, I’d noticed the older fellow who was the head usher and deacon had come in during lunch, carrying what was apparently the prize box. I knew he had a serious sweet tooth, always giving us kids candy after Sunday school as long as no parent was around to stop him. Whenever the high school kids had to sell candy bars for school fundraising, he was a sure thing. The more I thought about it, the more confident I was that there was some kind of candy prize in that box. At that point, I’d take anything that didn’t leave my mouth feeling like an inferno.

A little while later, in my hand, I had a chocolate bar after quoting John 1:1, but even better, Marta and I had a great idea.

Well, let me clarify that.

Ideas are funny things. They look amazing in your mind when they first show up. Teachers are always celebrating creative ideas in their students but when ideas hit the light of day, something strange happens. Those ideas have to stand on their own without the unlimited cheers of your own brain cells. Ideas are always fantastic in your head, but when you actually put them in action, it was a different story. This is where parents’ ears perk up. I can make my dad groan loudest by simply saying hey, dad, I have an idea...

For Marta and me, anytime either of us had an idea it meant something was going to be wrecked, spent, or humiliated. But I was pretty sure this time was different because she had a similar idea, too. Surely both of us couldn’t come up with an equally bad idea at the same time, right?

I couldn’t stop thinking about the sight of that pulverized piñata flying through the air, winging its way across the basement of the church, spewing Bible verses like a snowstorm of Good News as it made its final landing. Hadn’t we just learned about the importance of missions, even missions here at home? It got my brain thinking, and Marta’s, too.

What if we sort of seeded the town with Bible verses? Marta said. The glorious scene had inspired her like it did me.

You mean put piñatas all around town? I asked. This was my idea.

She rolled her eyes. I meant we could make little slips of paper with Bible verses and encouraging things on them and put them all over the place.

To be fair, her idea was better.

A lot less destructive for sure. Much less insurance needed.

But I still think people would