Saxe Point Park Mystery E-Book

P.N. Holland

• Herausgeber: WS
• Kategorie: Fantasy und Science-Fiction
• Serie: The Vancouver Island Mystery series
• Sprache: Englisch
• Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2022

Seitenzahl: 181

Beschreibung

Saxe Point Park Mystery

Leseprobe

While every precaution has been taken in the preparation of this book, the publisher assumes no responsibility for errors or omissions, or for damages resulting from the use of the information contained herein.

THE SAXE POINT PARK MYSTERY

First edition. March 5, 2020.

Copyright © 2020 P.N. Holland.

ISBN: 978-1393884675

Written by P.N. Holland.

10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

Also by P.N. Holland

Vancouver Island Mysteries

The Saxe Point Park Mystery

The Lost Boys of Lampson

The E&N Escape

Watch for more at P.N. Holland’s site.

Table of Contents

Title Page

Copyright Page

Also By P.N. Holland

Dedication

The Saxe Point Park Mystery

— CHAPTER ONE — | The Trunk

- CHAPTER TWO - | The House

- CHAPTER THREE - | Kidnapped

- CHAPTER FOUR - | The Van

- CHAPTER FIVE – | Somewhere Else

- CHAPTER SIX - | D-105

- CHAPTER SEVEN - | Russia

- CHAPTER EIGHT - | Back Home

- CHAPTER NINE – | Out of Time

- CHAPTER TEN 10 - | Back Home Again

- CHAPTER ELEVEN - | Gone Again

- CHAPTER TWELVE - | Home at Last

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Sign up for P.N. Holland's Mailing List

Further Reading: The Lost Boys of Lampson

Also By P.N. Holland

About the Author

About the Publisher

 

Dedicated to my late wife Kris, our children and grandchildren and all of those followers who love reading my stories.

The Saxe Point Park Mystery

P. Neil Holland

––––––––

TO ARIEL, EMILY ,ZACHARY, Brennan and Leyland who hopefully will enjoy my stories as they grow. 

Copyright 2004 by P.N. Holland (Arem Zach)

––––––––

LICENSE AGREEMENT STATEMENT

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only and may not be resold or given away to other people without the written consent of the author.  If you wish to share this published work with anyone else, please purchase an additional copy for each reader.  Thank you for respecting the work and time of this author.

— CHAPTER ONE —

The Trunk

I could feel my tires bouncing over the roots in the trail as my old CCM, my cousin’s old ‘hand me down’ bike, fenders rattling, flew over the branches from last night’s wind storm. I knew I could keep up to Ricky if I didn’t have Sarah behind me whining for us to wait up. She was so slow! Why did she have to follow me everywhere anyway? Weren’t there girls who she could play with? But no, mom had said that I had to watch her all summer! Some summer this would be, babysitting my whiny, baby sister. “Ugh!”

In my haste and preoccupied with complaining, I had missed a turn and was headed straight for a tree! I slammed on my foot brakes but was too close and barely escaped by jumping off the bike and into a stand of choke cherry bushes beside the path. Sarah, who was close behind me, hit my bike which was in a crumpled heap in front of the tall fir tree. She fell off of her bike and landed in a pile of brambles on the other side of the path. With her came a flock of birds screeching and scolding us as they flew out of the bushes around my wailing sister.

“Help, Billy, get me out of here! They’re pricklies and they hurt! Ow!” she howled at me. I yelled at Ricky who was doubling back to see what was keeping us. He screeched to a stop as he rammed on his brakes and hopped off of his new scarlet X-treme racer.

“What happened to you guys?” he said, surveying the scene of mangled metal, scraped knees and screaming child.

“What do you think? Billy forgot there was a tree in the path and ran into it and I hit his stupid bike!” grimaced Sarah as she rubbed her sore knees, tears streaming down her cheeks.

“Sarah, it was an accident.” I said in my defense. “My old bike doesn’t corner fast enough. Here, let me help you out of the brambles.” I offered as I reached down to pick her up out of the bushes.

“I don’t need your help!” she scoffed, pushed me off and rose to her feet, yelping as she did when the prickles clung to her arms and legs. Both Rick and I reached over anyway and pulled the clinging vines from her and she was finally free of them.

“I don’t know why I have to follow you stupid boys around anyway!” she complained as we got on our bikes and headed down the path. Before we could answer her, Ricky said to be quiet as he had spotted something suspicious over by the cove. We both asked what it was and Rick said he would show us but we had to be quiet because he thought they might still be there. I had visions of pirates or gangsters or monsters in my head as we followed the path to the bank that overlooked the cove. The rocky beach hugged the shore in a semicircle which spread from a point of land to the west and trailed around south and east until it followed the rest of the shore and out of the cove. The trees along the bank blocked the sun and made the cove appear dark and foreboding. It was dusk so the day was quickly receding which gave the shadowy figures below an eerie appearance. We could see three men on the beach and they were hauling something heavy up onto the logs and flotsam which always hung around the rocky shore. The smell of seaweed wafted up to us and we could hear crows cawing in the distance as they headed to the eastern trees to sleep for the night. The waves gentle slapping against the rocks sang their usual serenade to us as we neared the bank and peeked around the bushes to survey the cove below.

“I wonder what is in the crate.” Ricky asked the question we were all thinking.

“Maybe it’s buried treasure from some ship?” Sarah said.

“Nah! More likely drugs like Marijuana or something.” I countered. “The police have busted lots of ships trying to bring goods into B.C. along the shores around Vancouver Island. Smugglers trade drugs for them. I read that in the newspaper last week.”

“We should go and tell the police.” Rick said.

“I know”, I proposed, “Sarah, you go and tell mom while we stay here and keep an eye on them in case they start to leave.”

“No, I want to see too!” whined Sarah. I tried to talk her into going but she wouldn’t and I wasn’t about to start arguing with her while those men were only a short distance from us, so we all watched as the men moved the black crate closer to the path. We couldn’t hear what they were saying so I offered to sneak up closer by going part way down the path which was hidden by bushes and trees for most of the journey. As I crept quietly, I could see a boat out in the cove. It looked like a small cabin cruiser about 16 feet in length with a row of lights in the middle. I couldn’t tell the color as it was too dark, but there was someone inside flashing a flashlight beam at the three men. As I crept nearer to them I could make out some of their conversation.

“...should have finished this by now. Come on, let’s dump this and head back to town before the Coast Guard catches up with Cheryl.” said one.

“Are you sure this is a safe place to hide this stuff, Ted?” asked another.

“Trust me; I grew up in this city. No one will ever think to look for it here,” answered the one called Ted. “Now hurry up and help me haul this up the path to the van...” I wondered what place they were talking about. At that point I realized that when they came up the path they would see me so I snuck back up to Sarah and Rick and told them that the men were coming and we had better hide.

“Let’s hide over there behind the washrooms”, whispered Rick, pointing away from the cove toward a stone building over by the roadway.

“We’ll have to hurry if we’re going to get there before they reach the top of the bank,” I whispered as I hopped on my broken bike and tried to ride it to the stone structure. It was not very ride-able as my brake seemed crammed against my front tire, so I had to hop off of it and run with it along the path. Both Rick and Sarah were making better headway than I was and I began to feel afraid that I wouldn’t make it on time. I saw them round the corner of the building when I was still about ten meters away. Then I heard Ricky whisper loudly to me to “drop!” and I fell to the ground behind some bushes and pulled my bike behind me. I was not close enough to gain the safety of the washroom building. I scraped my shin against a rock and I felt a piercing pain go through it. I had to cover my mouth to keep from shouting. My heart was in my throat and I prayed that the men had not seen me. I was afraid at first to even look but as I heard voices coming along the path I had to see if I was safely hidden from view. It was a good thing that I looked because my leg and back tire were both in plain sight. I quickly yanked my bike behind me in the bushes and sat on my tire as I peered out between the brambles.

As they came nearer I could see their faces and figures more clearly. The first one was the tallest and he seemed to be leading as the other two were carrying the crate. He had an old captain’s hat on and a dark cape which made him look like an old seaman. Adding to this image was the pipe sticking out of his mouth that he seemed to be constantly puffing and causing rings of smoke to rise above him as he strode along. His two mates struggled along behind him with their heavy burden. The next one was a whole head smaller than the leader. He had light, flowing hair and a reddish beard. A cigarette was hanging off of his lip and it looked like it had been there for quite some time because it was not lit and was stuck there. As he strained with the weight of the crate he was pleading with the leader for a little rest. The leader started to complain about their schedule again but gave in and said to rest for five minutes. By this time they were almost right in front of me as they set their burden down and the two carrying it quickly sat on either end. The light haired one with the beard pulled out a lighter and lit his stub of a cigarette which was glued to his lip. It is a wonder he didn’t burn his beard off doing it! The man behind him was almost as tall as the leader with dark, wavy hair and a black mustache neatly trimmed into a thin line and he stroked his thumb and first finger through it as he spoke.

“I’ll be happy to part with this stuff and collect my money,” he muttered.

“You and me both,” agreed the small one with the red beard. “What did you say this was worth, Ted?”

“More than you will need for a long time, Charlie.” Ted answered, as he blew a ring of smoke from his pipe into the cool air.

“Why did that government guy in Seattle say that if anyone found out about this stuff it would change the world?” questioned Sam, the man in the middle of the others.

“You don’t want to know! Trust me; this is bigger than all of us! Let’s just do this and get our money.” said Ted, quite agitated.

“Well, is the government looking for this stuff?” asked Sam, not willing to give up on this point.

“I don’t know but the Americans have been touchy ever since “9-11” and our contact in Seattle was pretty tight-lipped about it—wouldn’t even give us his real name.” continued Ted.

“Yah, said his name was Michael Jackson, yah right!” broke in Charlie.

They all laughed and then the leader said that it was time to get moving again, so the other two groaned and lifted their heavy load. As they did, the one with the cigarette stuck to his lip, ran his tongue over it and spat it out in my direction just missing my leg which was resting awkwardly over my bike tire. I looked with distress toward my bike and noticed that the butt was smoldering in the brush behind me. Stupid idiot, I thought as I looked over to make sure that it was not starting a fire. I was careful not to kick my bike as I squashed my toe on it and watched with relief as they swiftly walked away toward the road. I glanced over to where Rick and Sarah were standing beside the washroom, hidden from the view of the smugglers. They were both waving at me to catch up with them. I looked back toward the three thieves and saw that they had gained the roadway and were too far away to notice me so I slowly rose, rubbed my cramped legs to help the circulation return and then quickly walked my excuse for a bike up to where my friend and sister were.

“What did they say?” What did they have in that trunk?” they both shot at me at once.

“I don’t know what they were carrying but it must be pretty important because they said that the American government was after them and that it could change the world!” I answered excitedly as I rubbed my sore leg.

“Wow!” they both responded.

“We’d better follow them!” Rick said, his eyebrows raised.

“Wait!” I wailed, as they both mounted their bikes. “I’ve got to put my chain back on and straighten my brake!”

“Okay, but hurry up Billy, they’re getting away!” whined Sarah.

“There, that should do it,” I retorted, as I wiped the grease from my chain on my jeans and mounted my rusty steed to follow them. My shin still ached but the excitement of our quest made me quickly dismiss the pain. We just caught sight of them putting the case into the back of a black van. The parking lot was deserted so it was easy to identify them as they scrambled into the front seat and began to drive away.

“We’ve got to follow them!” Ricky said urgently.

“Yes,” I concurred, “Sarah, take out that pencil and paper you always carry and write down the license plate!” I commanded as I memorized the numbers.

T...A....N...The van whizzed past us and I figured I’d catch the rest of the numbers from the back plate, but as it went past I didn’t see a rear plate! I asked Ricky if he got the numbers and he said that he saw...T...A...N...2...but the others were covered in dirt and he couldn’t read them. So Sarah wrote down what we had and we headed after them. We just caught sight of them heading out of the park towards Flemings Beach. We sped as fast as our bikes would take us but they steadily began to disappear ahead of us. Ricky, who had the fastest bike, was also gaining ground as he sped ahead of us. After a few more turns we lost sight of the van and Rick. It wasn’t until Sarah and I reached Flemings Beach that we noticed Ricky had stopped at the top of the hill leading to the Army Barracks.

“Look, Rick’s up on the hill.” I pointed. “They must have gone that way. Hurry, Sarah, let’s follow him!” And with that, Sarah and I hopped back on our bikes and raced up the hill to the Army gate that led into the Barracks. When we met up with him, we stopped and Ricky told us that the smugglers had headed toward the cove at the end of the road through the private married quarters or PMQ’s, as the military kids called them.

“Isn’t there a marina down by the beach on the other side?” questioned Rick. “Didn’t we play pirates there just last week with Tommy and David Sanders?”

“Yah, the Bobbsey Twins,” I recalled. We called them that because they were identical twins and we had all read the book. “They must be planning on storing the crate somewhere over there.” I added, putting two and two together.

“There’s a short cut through the PMQ’s. We can sneak over there by the Head Street entrance to the beach and walk around without being noticed.” suggested Ricky.

“Let’s go!” we all shouted at once. This had to be the first time that Sarah was excited about following us and I was amazed at how well she kept up on her little bike, a little incentive goes a long way. In minutes we were bouncing over the field and on the path between the hanger and the PMQ’s. As we flew by a group of kids along the pathway I heard a couple of them call my name but I just waved and peddled harder, not willing to stop and explain our hasty journey. They just stopped and stared until we were over the hill and then continued on their way, probably headed for Flemings Beach to beach comb and climb the cliff.

When we were at the Head Street entrance to the beach it was getting a lot darker and Sarah started to get worried about the time.

“What time is it, Billy?” she asked, when we had dismounted our bikes.

“It’s only nine o’clock, Sarah. We don’t have to be home ‘til nine thirty,” I reassured her as I glanced at my “Harry Potter” watch that I had received as a Christmas gift last year. She nodded her acceptance of my older brother answer and looked towards the beach. It was hard to see far in the dim light but the lights on the boats moored along the wharf helped illuminate the bank for easy passage. We ditched our bikes under the stairs to the landing and headed along the beach towards the wharf that led to Pirate’s Cove. That’s when Rick sighted the black van parked along the roadway beside the plaque naming the historical site there. The men were not in the van but we got the rest of the license plate by rubbing off the dirt. It was TAN 256. Sarah wrote the rest of the numbers on her “Harry Potter” notepad and said, “This should come in handy.”

“Shh!” Ricky cautioned suddenly, “They’re coming back. They were in that boat by the wharf.” We looked carefully in the grey light and could see three men and a woman emerge from a sleek cabin cruiser that looked a lot like the one we saw at the cove in Saxe Point Park. We couldn’t hear them but we saw Ted, the leader talk to the woman as the other two headed back towards the van. She went back inside the boat and Ted followed his two companions up the stairs towards us.

“We’d better hide while they get into the van.” I said gesturing towards the trees on the other side of the road. We quickly ran across the road and hid behind a small copse of fir trees. We could see them get into the van and when they drove off we ran across to our bikes and attempted to follow. They turned up Head Street and as we watched, peddling furiously, we noticed them turn right on Dunsmuir road. We zoomed up the hill and followed onto Dunsmuir hoping to see them but they had disappeared.

“They could have gone left or right!” Rick shouted, annoyed at not knowing which way to go as we approached Esquimalt Road.

“Go left on Wollaston and I’ll meet you at Head and Esquimalt!” I shouted up to him as I came to the intersection. “Sarah, you go back down Dunsmuir just in case we missed them.” Sarah nodded and headed back along Dunsmuir as I peeled off to the left up Esquimalt Road, hoping that if they came this way, they didn’t go all the way back on Esquimalt or right up the hill. It was getting pretty dark and hard to see any vans let alone a black one but we were determined. I slowed down at Head Street and looked carefully each way. Nothing looked like the van but if they went into a garage I could miss it and not even know it. As I looked down the street, I hoped that Ricky or Sarah had had better luck. I could see both of them waving at me at the end of Wollaston so I headed down the hill and screeched my brakes to a stop as I reached them.

“Any luck?” Ricky asked in anticipation as Sarah looked on, her eyes wide.

“No, I was hoping one of you would have spotted it.” I answered in disappointment.

“Nothing!” said Sarah with anger in her voice. “What time is it?” she asked with concern.

“Stop worrying”, I told her, “It’s only just past 9:30! We’ll get home pretty quick.”

“Bummer!” said Ricky still thinking about the black van and his future as a secret agent. His favorite movies were all James Bond and he had a set of toy weapons and secret service badges, gadgets and paraphernalia to rival Pierce Brosnan’s. “We’d better get going then before our moms send out the police.” He said sarcastically.

Sarah and I both looked at him with the same feeling of resigned disappointment and started to turn our bikes south to head down Head Street when we both noticed the back of the black van streaking along Wollaston toward us. It hesitated for a second at the stop sign and then quickly crossed the street and headed east.