Mysteries and Adventures in Mansfield

By Ken Harper

Four teenage friends in a small town embark on a journey to solve the case of a missing schoolmate, unaware some of the mischievous characters in town decide to add clues and adventure to their sleuthing while the town sits back and laughs at the four detectives chasing clues. Once the four friends discover the gag, they decide to get even using

• Language: English
• Publisher: Aspire Publishing Hub, LLC
• Release date: Apr 22, 2024
• ISBN: 9781962611916

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Mysteries and Adventures in Mansfield

Copyright © 2024 by Ken Harper

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other non-commercial uses permitted by copyright law.

ISBN

978-1-962611-90-9 (Paperback)

978-1-962611-91-6 (eBook)

Table of Contents

Chapter 1Snake Day

Chapter 2Shirt Off His Back

Chapter 3Voices

Chapter 4The Mystery

Chapter 5Suspects

Chapter 6The investigation begins

Chapter 7The lake investigation

Chapter 8The New People

Chapter 9Mrs. Crabapple

Chapter 10The Chief

Chapter 11Time To End

Chapter 12Explanations

Chapter 13The Realization

Chapter 14The Appearance of Spook

Chapter 15Spook Strikes Again

Chapter 16Spook at the Lake

Chapter 17Spook is Everywhere

Chapter 18Another Town Meeting

Chapter 19Accepted Factual Rumor

Chapter 20Small Changes

Chapter 21A Nervous Breakdown

Chapter 22Tracy

Chapter 23A New Friend

Chapter 24Major Changes

Chapter 25Crazy Pete’s Scheme

Chapter 26Chief Bell Visits Pete

Chapter 27Tracy and I Settle Differences

Chapter 28The visit with Lisa

Chapter 29Buddy’s Pool Hall

Chapter 30Plans to spend the night

Chapter 31Chance Despises Jack

Chapter 32Venting Frustrations and Mending Hearts.

Chapter 33Driving Crazy Pete nuts.

Chapter 34Fun in Mansfield, or the Lack Thereof.

Chapter 35Mr. Diles

Chapter 36Mrs. Grabbner

Chapter 37Mr. Blanchard

Chapter 38Camo

Chapter 39Tracy invites us to Church

Chapter 1

Snake Day

Our small town has little excitement, little news of any relevance, and not many changes in a lifetime. The closest thing we have to a newspaper is the town café, though a newspaper from a large city nearby is delivered early each morning. Every morning, the cafe is always filled with the smell of bacon, hash browns, toast, coffee and the latest gossip around town. If there isn’t any new talk, someone will invent it, or the townspeople will hash over old happenings. We will usually be at the top of the list; my three friends and I that is. We’re not trouble, just inquisitive by nature. We love a good mystery, and are determined to solve one when it presents itself. One presented itself a year ago, and that is what the townsfolk discuss when there is nothing else.

The disappearance of a quiet high school girl, no one knowing what happened to her, and some of the mysterious people around town was a challenge our seventh grade mystery-solving group could not resist. Tracy was the first of our group to learn of Mary Breck’s disappearance.

Tracy was taller, thinner, smarter and louder than the rest of us, and sneakier too. Her hair was shoulder length, strawberry blonde, which bounced like it had a life of its own as she ran or jumped. Tracy was energetic to put things mildly. She was always in trouble for talking out of turn in class, constantly moving, or tapping a pencil. She had a business by the age of ten- that was three years ago. She would take the Sunday morning paper, a thick paper from a large city a few miles away, off of selected individual’s porches, take them to one of the few churches in town and sell them to unsuspecting church patrons as they exited the church. She would switch houses and churches on a rotating basis. Tracy said her favorite comment from her customers was, I am glad you showed up with the paper, ours wasn’t delivered this morning. They would gladly pay full price for the paper assuming they were helping a young enterprising entrepreneur. She was in business for over a month before the café discussion crowd compared notes and figured out what happened to their newspapers, and how much she must have made. The group decided to teach her a lesson.

I am sure old Mr. Donson came up with his usual speech about how he would be taken out behind the woodshed and have a two by four, Laid firmly across the backside. Miss Grabbner, I would bet said, Well, if you ask me, (though no one ever did) I think we need to call the sheriff, have him rough that brat up, and toss her in jail for the night. What she did was just criminal and she should be treated as one. Once they were finished with the punishment ideas, they would then cover Tracy’s whole life history, every fault and mistake she ever had or did. In this small town one rarely sneezed but the downtown didn’t know about it immediately.

Crazy Pete Coulson, as he was known around town, had grabbed a pen and a napkin; he started piecing together Tracy’s pattern of paper stealing. He calculated whose papers would be taken this Sunday. He devised a plan to cure her and put her out of business, for good! A hardy round of cheers and coffee cups clinked once he had explained his idea.

One of the group was to get a snake, get to the newspaper before Tracy, and they would put it in a rolled up newspaper, closing one end with a rubber band, then set the newspaper quietly on the porch. Along would come Tracy, pick up the paper, slap it under her arm, and away she would go to the next house. The snake would become irritated and crawl out on Tracy. The fright would be so severe; she would quit her thieving ways.

Early Sunday morning our snake charmers were ready for action. One end of the newspaper was closed off; in the other end went a harmless Gardener snake. The two men gently placed the paper on the porch with the wiggling snake headfirst inside the paper. They retreated behind some bushes and waited.

Sunday mornings in this small town are sleepy, still, even deathlike. The wind would whistle more quietly on a Sunday morning, the birds chirped with muted songs, and only whispers might break the silence so early. It wasn’t long before Tracy came skipping down the sidewalk, past the bushes where the two men were hiding. Tracy stopped at the porch and picked up the paper, shoving it under her right arm, with the open end facing forward. Since Tracy knew the paper delivery person wasn’t too far ahead of her; she sat down on the porch with the paper still under her right armpit. She had a piece of candy she took from her pocket and began to eat it.

Tracy felt some movement against her side coming from the newspaper. She caught a glance of something moving towards her from the open end of the rolled paper. She dropped her candy bar, and stood up in a panic. By this time the snake had attached itself to her shoulder and was curling itself around her chest. As Tracy looked down, she came nose to mouth with the snake.

Her screams of death could be heard around the neighborhood, awaking many from a sound slumber. She began to stomp her feet as the snake, which had fallen with the newspaper, slithered off. She ran down the street screaming, stomping her feet and slapping her arms at her chest as if the snake were still there.

This was only the beginning of a noisy and crazy morning. Several from the café decided to fix Tracy, only they forgot to find out who else was planning to do this. Several snakes had been gathered the evening before and placed into papers that morning. Some people saw the snakes before picking up the paper, others, well, they found out after unrolling their paper on this peaceful morning inside their house. Mrs. Grabbner calmly walked into her house, laid the paper on the dining room table, and sat down to read it. As she grabbed the paper to open it, the snake slithered out swiftly, sending a mortal fear through her. She went running out of her house screaming, snakes, snakes, they’re everywhere.

Monday morning at the café, the talk centered on newspapers, snakes, and one very mischievous young girl, who caused the problem. At least after Snake Sunday there were no more newspapers missing or being sold at churches on Sunday, though snakes were seen around town the rest of the summer.

Chapter 2

Shirt Off His Back

Freddy, my best friend, since- I can remember, was amazed at Tracy’s ability to fool people. I couldn’t ask for a truer, more honest friend than Freddy. Freddy was one of the shortest kids in our class, he was also the roundest. His brown hair looked like someone placed a bowl on his head and cut around it. Freddy was naïve and trusting, a quality, which got him into many strange circumstances. He would give a person in need the shirt off his back, literally. In the 4th grade Bob Means, the absolute shortest person in the elementary school, at least 6 inches shorter than Freddy, spilled mustard on his shirt trying to eat his hotdog at lunch time. He went into the bathroom to clean off the mustard just before the bell rang to go back to class. Freddy has the biggest heart of any person I have ever known. He went in with Bob Means to see if he could help Bob clean up his shirt. All Bob did was make a bigger yellow mess on his light green shirt, as he tried to wipe off the mustard. He also smelled like a bottle of French’s mustard. A few minutes after class started, Bob came in wearing Freddy’s shirt. Freddy is much taller than Bob and much rounder, to be polite. As you might imagine, there was more shirt than Bob. A few seconds later Freddy walked in with no shirt on and sat down like nothing was different. Mr. Berry, our math teacher, was at the white board writing down examples.

The whole class stared at No Shirt Freddy, his nickname after this incident, in complete disbelief. Mr. Berry must have sensed something was wrong in the class. He turned rather slowly, and fixed his eyes on Freddy. His look of shock was indescribable, so was the class’s. He stared at Freddy, then at Bob, who looked like he was being swallowed up by Freddy’s shirt, then at Freddy. He then stared at the ground. We were sure he was going to start yelling at Freddy. He looked up a few seconds later, and began to laugh. This was not a quiet gentle laugh, but a loud uncontrolled laugh. His face became twisted, distorted as tears rolled down his cheeks. He was bent over with his hands on the front desk to hold him up. Mr. Berry finally stopped laughing enough to tell Freddy to get his PE shirt on. Freddy grabbed the hall pass and headed out the door. He barely got out the door when Mrs. Bowmont, our assistant principal, encountered him. We first heard a gasp, then an, Oh, my gosh! What are you doing without a shirt on? Freddy said, Bob has my shirt, I was going to get my PE shirt from the lockers. Fine then, go, said Miss Bowmont. Mr. Berry turned back to the whiteboard, still chuckling and shaking his head back and forth. Freddy returned shortly and the rest of the day went without any more bizarre things happening.

Chapter 3

Voices

Bizarre would be a good word to describe Lisa, her real name is Eloise Patricia White the second. Her mom’s name is the same though she goes by Pat. Lisa hates her real name. She has never said why. Lisa has a unique ability; she says she hears voices now and then, in her head, when no one else is around. I first learned of the voices Halloween, a year ago. Her mom and she moved here that summer, before school started. A couple of little kids warned me about the voices; I thought they were kidding around. Lisa joined Tracy, Freddy and I, the first week of school. Freddy, not being shy, went up and welcomed her the first day of school, and she has been our friend ever since.

How do I know she hears voices? Well, I have heard them also; let me tell you how I came to hear them as well. The four of us decided to visit the town’s old cemetery on Halloween night. Each of us was supposed to bring a flashlight, and our courage. We met at 8:00 P.M. at the gas station, a short walk from the cemetery. The night was still, eerily quiet, not a bird singing, animal moving or leaf rustling to break the frightening silence. We neared the cemetery entrance. Our shallow breathing was all that could be heard as the four of us stood before the cemetery entrance. Tracy thought she saw something move in the middle of the cemetery. We peered through the darkness, shining our flashlights around the tombstones and trees, since there was no street light near the cemetery, but saw nothing moving. Being the leader of the group, I led the way into the cemetery. Clouds covered the moon, adding to the increasing fear. It was difficult to avoid the tombstones, some were tall, others knee high and the fear that a grave may be dug with a casket and a body in it, but not covered with dirt yet. Freddy’s flashlight was extremely dim, Tracy’s a miniature type, dimmer than a night-light, Lisa forgot one, and mine was working, but inadequate for moving safely about the grave sites in the dark. We heard a noise from somewhere in the cemetery, a tapping sound, then a slap, obviously the sound of a hand hitting a cement tombstone as a body was trying to raise itself from the grave. Lisa said, in a quiet panic stricken voice, Turn off the flashlights. We did, as we crouched behind a large tombstone. I leaned against the tombstone as support, since my knees no longer would hold me up. Freddy also leaned against it with his chest; his head on his arms; his body shaking. The ground began to move below our knees, all of us knew in an instant that someone from the grave was reaching out to grab us with a cold, white, bony hand.

Both girls jumped on Freddy and my back in panic so they would not be grabbed. We felt ourselves falling forward as the ground underneath us seemed to open up. Freddy and I screamed louder. Neither one of us could get up, something from below must have a hold on us. Freddy was crying, Oh my God, Something’s got me help me, please. We heard a loud thud on the ground, causing the dirt to tremble below us. Both girls rolled off our back, leapt to their feet and began to run for their life leaving us to the mercy of the corpse below. Whatever had a hold of us let go, Freddy and I were free to run. We did, and fast. I turned on my flashlight as we quickly passed up the girls still trying to find their way in the dark.

We stopped by an old rather leaf barren oak tree. We were shaking, Lisa was crying, when Tracy blurted out in a nervous, trembling voice This is more terrifying than Snake Day. It took a few seconds before we found this comment funny, but a good laugh was what we needed. I looked at Freddy and said, Man, I thought that might scare the shirt off your back. We found that funny as well. I shined the flashlight toward the grave we just ran from, expecting to see a zombie or a skeleton walking towards us. The cemetery was quiet, no shuffling of feet, no moans, just a faint snickering sound. I told Freddy to, Knock it off. He said, Knock off what." I didn’t find him funny, but he quit. We slowly, cautiously, anxiously walked toward the gravesite, we just ran from. We found the tombstone lying flat on the ground, the dirt disturbed at the base of it. No cold, bony, white hand sticking out. We figured out what happened. The tombstone gave way and began to fall over as Freddy and I leaned against it. This caused the dirt below our knees to be dug up, resulting in the girls jumping on our backs, forcing the tombstone to fall over faster and harder creating a loud thump and strong vibration. With the girls solidly on our backs, we found it impossible to get up, rather than someone from the grave trying to pull us down. We all felt embarrassed, but were glad no one else was around to see what happened or to hear us screaming like frightened little babies.

Another noise arose from the far corner of the cemetery. After some discussion, we decided to investigate. Lisa led the way this time. She had my flashlight and walked cautiously, towards the direction of the noise. As we neared the far corner of the graveyard, we heard another sound that sounded like the slapping of a hand, then scratching of a cement slab. We ducked behind another large tombstone, being careful not to touch it. Lisa turned the flashlight off, so we would not be seen by anyone or thing. Lisa said, Did you guys hear that? We were hoping she knew what was happening. We all said, No and nervously shook our heads. You know, said Lisa, "the voice. Oh, don’t tell me you guys didn’t