A Guest for Halloween: A Lex & Ricky Mystery Read online

A Guest for Halloween

  A Lex & Ricky Mystery

  by

  William Henderson

  *****

  PUBLISHED BY

  A Guest for Halloween

  A Lex & Ricky Mystery

  Copyright ©2011 by William Henderson

  All Rights Reserved

  *****

  If you like working with maps and would enjoy viewing the places that Lex & Ricky visit in this mystery, like the Tseax Cone and lava flow, then check out our map, A Guest for Halloween at Google.

  Hopefully you enjoyed the first Lex & Ricky mystery. If you have any questions regarding the story, please email me and I will respond within a few days. If you are interested in reading the next Lex & Ricky mystery coming in February 2011 and would like to receive a discount coupon, simply send me an email to:

  [email protected]

  with the answer to the following mystery question, which can be puzzled out by reading the story:

  "What is the approximate age of Lex & Ricky's mom, Karen?"

  *****

  A GUEST FOR HALLOWEEN

  A Lex & Ricky Mystery

  TO MY BOYS, NICK AND BEN

  Chapter 1: The Coming Home

  “It’s my turn, now,” Ricky was telling Lex for the third time, as he turned up the music even louder on his iPod, just to annoy him.

  “Shut up, dickhead!” Lex dismissed him like he was brushing off a mosquito. The older brother was busy competing on-line with some guy named RangerBob to kill the most Nazi zombies.

  “C’mon, Lex. It’s my turn!” implored Ricky, as he reached for the game controller.

  “Buzz off, puke!” Lex turned his shoulder away from his little brother. “Awww, look what you made me do, you jerk!” cried Lex as he punched Ricky in the leg. “Here, you killed me anyway. You might as well have it now!” Lex tossed the controller at Ricky who had retracted into a ball with his knees drawn up to his chest at the far end of the couch.

  Ricky didn’t just want to play the game, he wanted to play with Lex, like they used to. “Let’s play Little Big Planet so we can both play,” pleaded Ricky.

  “You always want your own way. I hate you,” declared Lex as he got up and walked toward the game console.

  “Turn it off, Alex,” the boys’ mother, Karen appeared in the doorway between the living room and the kitchen.

  “Oh, hey Mom we didn’t know you where home from work already,” declared Lex looking surprised.

  “Obviously, or you wouldn’t be playing the game like I asked you until after dark. And if I ever see you hit your brother again you won’t be playing that bloody game at all!” Karen chided Lex. “You should be ashamed of yourself. Look at the size of you!”

  At twelve years old Lex was already taller than his mother and he had the raven black hair and tanned skin that she inherited from her father, a Gitselasu.

  “Now it’s an hour until supper. Go out and see if you can meet some of the other kids in the neighborhood. Just be back in an hour!” Karen commanded as she turned to unload the groceries on the kitchen table.

  The boys felt lost since moving to the small town of Terrace in northern British Columbia. The pace of life and number of distractions were nothing like those in Vancouver. They didn’t know what to do with themselves. They missed their friends and they missed their dad. To make matters worse they didn’t even live in town. Their place was out in the boonies several miles southeast of town off a main road, called the Old Lakelse Lake Drive. Apparently, the house was left to their mom and her brother Jeff, by their grandfather when he passed away two years ago. It was the house she grew up in.

  There were a few streets to the west on the other side of the main road but the bush seemed more worthy of investigation. Especially considering the mood Lex found himself in. Ricky found some branch and was thrashing the brush as he tagged along behind. Lex felt guilty for resenting his constant companion. Their new place was one of two lots at the dead end of a gravel street. A large field of tall grass was straight out the kitchen door. Lex wandered aimlessly across the field until he detected a trail in the bush that gradually climbed the hill before them. They followed the trail through the close bush for a while until it gave way to a stand of old growth Western red cedars, Sitka spruce and hemlock trees. What little light made it through the canopy nourished the saplings and ferns that seemed to completely cover the forest floor. The boys stood for a moment and marveled at the sheer size of these ancient trees. Their uncle told them that many were over 150 feet tall and hundreds of years old.

  “Do you think it will be easy to make new friends, Lex?” asked Ricky as he swatted every flower and bush he could find.

  “For you, maybe. That is if you ever shut up long enough for anyone else to do the talking,” spitted Lex.

  “How come you are so angry all the time, Lex? You’re always mad at…”

  “Shhhh, be quiet!” Lex hushed Ricky as he instinctively crouched to lower his profile on the trail. “Did you hear that?” he whispered pulling Ricky down beside him.

  Crack, crack, crack, came the sound of what? Gunfire? They didn’t know. Neither one of them had ever heard a real gun shot. It sounded as if it came from over the next rise in the trail. Lex motioned Ricky to follow and they did their best commando stealth moves up the trail to lay on a ridge and crawl up to peer over.

  About forty feet in front of them was a kid about Lex’s age loading a short clip with shells. Beyond the shooter was a clearing about the size of a baseball diamond infield with a rock face about the height of a pickup truck. A short log lay on the ground parallel to the rock face with several assorted sized cans resting on top. The shooter took aim and fired. Crack, crack, crack, crack, crack, reported the rifle. The clip was spent and the shooter hit only one of the cans.

  “Gawwd. He sucks,” remarked Ricky, a little too loud.

  “I hear ya!” yelled the shooter in their direction as he removed the clip and leaned the rifle against the stump that tabled his box of shells. “Show yourselves!” commanded the shooter as he began to load the clip.

  The brothers stood up and looked at the shooter.

  “Well, it’s not polite to spy on people in the bush around here. Come down and introduce yourselves!” yelled the shooter as he tucked the ammunition clip in the front of his jean overalls and stood squarely facing them with his hands on his hips.

  The boys moved forward slowly, cautiously. They had never met a kid with a real gun before. “Hey,” Lex offered a pensive greeting, arching a slight wave of his hand in front of him.

  “Hey yourselves,” the shooter returned the greeting. “Where did you guys come from?”

  “Ah, we’re new around here. We just moved in down on Crystal Road,” offered Lex. “I’m Lex and this is my little brother, Ricky.”

  “I’m Tommy,” responded the shooter sticking his right fist out for knuckle bumps from Lex and Ricky.

  “So what grade are you both in? inquired Tommy.

  “I’m going into grade five and Lex is going into grade eight,” offered Ricky.

  “Hey, so you’ll be going to Thornhill Junior with me,” Tommy replied to Lex, ignoring Ricky.

  “Yeah, I guess so,” said Lex. “Where do you live?”

  “About a mile down that trail there that leads south to Marion Road. It’s the next road toward Lakelse Lake from where you live.” Tommy said looking at the trail that Ricky and Lex would have crossed had they not taken a detour over the berm to watch Tommy.

  “Is that your gun?” Ricky asked Tommy.

  “I’m shootin’ it ain’t I? Besides, it’s not a gun, it’s a .22 cal
iber rifle,” said Tommy proudly.

  “Where did you get it?” Ricky clearly admired the rifle.

  “My pa gave it to me for my twelve birthday,”

  “Get out! Your pa gave you a rifle?” Ricky asked incredulously.

  “Most guys around here get a rifle at twelve,” Tommy stated as though it was a matter of fact while removing a clip from his overall pocket and loading it into the rifle. “Where are you guys from?” Tommy asked, now with his back to them taking aim at the cans down range. Crack! Reported the rifle, once.

  “You hit it!” exclaimed Ricky.

  “Vancouver, well actually, a suburb of Vancouver called Delta,” Lex finally got the opportunity to get a word in edge wise now that Ricky was distracted.

  “Oh, yeah. Never been to Vancouver,” Tommy replied as the rifle cracked off another shot.

  “Ohhh, missed,” reported Ricky.

  “Oh, really? Thanks, squirt.” Tommy leered at Ricky. “Want a shot, Lex?”

  “I do!” Ricky hopped forward.

  “You’re too young, kid,” replied Tommy dismissively.

  “Ah sure,” Lex stepped forward.

  “Now, always keep the rifle pointed down range or up in the air. Never pass it to someone unless the safety is on. See, here is the safety,” Tommy tucked the butt of the .22 into his stomach and rolled it flat so Lex could see the safety button at the heel of the trigger guard.

  “OK, I get it,” Lex stepped forward and took the rifle from Tommy, careful to keep the barrel pointed down range.

  “Now take aim lining up the two sights on the barrel, push the safety off and squeeze the trigger,” instructed Tommy.

  Crack! Reported the rifle.

  “Missed,” reported Ricky.

  “That’s OK. You have two more shells,” Tommy guided Lex.

  Crack! Crack! Lex fired off two shots.

  “Hey, you got one!” Ricky yelled excitedly as he started to run down range.

  “Stop!” yelled Tommy snapping Ricky back by the shirt collar and throwing him to the ground. “Never run down range until all weapons are secured, you jerk!” shouted Tommy.

  “I..I...didn’t know!” cried Ricky looking to his brother for support.

  “Get out of here! No little kids allowed on the range!” screamed Tommy.

  Ricky slowly got to his feet looking at Lex who felt the same way as Tommy. No little kids allowed

  “OK” managed Ricky. This was the first time ever that Lex didn’t stick up for him and it hurt more that any stranger throwing him to the ground. Ricky slowly backed away from Tommy who was pointing the way back down the trail, while Lex turned his back on them and leaned the rifle against the stump.

  A few minutes down the trail towards home, Ricky could hear the report of the rifle as Lex and Tommy resumed their shooting practice. He had never felt so alone as he did now and decided he would call his dad when he got home. Ricky was in no hurry and was taking his frustration out on the plants along the path with a stick when he happened to look up to see a dark blur disappear into the darkness of the bush. He knew nothing of the wildlife in this part of the country. All he had been told up to now was to make sure he made a lot of noise when in the bush and to never run if chased by a bear. He could smell something that reminded him of a wet dog, so in his mind that’s what he thought was hiding from him.

  Ricky stood on the edge of the trail and yelled, “Here boy! Here boy!” waving the stick in the air. The bush was still. Not a bird nor insect stirred and he might have thought he was dreaming had he not heard the distant crack of the rifle. “Here boy!” called Ricky as he left the trail and headed along a faint path through the ferns covering the forest floor into the bush, calling out for the dog about every ten feet. It was darker in here, Ricky was thinking but he could smell that dog. As Ricky moved around the biggest red cedar tree he had ever seen he heard something that sounded like someone pushing air through his nose. It reminded him of the sound that the bison and deer had made on one of those nature programs he used to watch with his dad. “Whoosh! Whoosh! Thump! Thump!” Ricky heard the hard nasal air expelling clearly this time along with what sounded like hooves stomping the ground or maybe something hitting the trunk of a tree.

  That sound made the hair stand up on the back of Ricky’s neck and something, call it instinct, warned him not to go any further. As he stepped back toward the cedar his heel bumped a large pile of rocks between two large roots of the tree. No not rocks, stones, all about the same size and color. Ricky picked a stone off the top of the neatly assembled pile and noticed that it was perfectly smooth and about the size of his fist. “Whoosh! Whoosh! Thump! Thump!” came the sound from the darkness ahead of him. Ricky was beginning to realize that there was no dog in the bush with him. But that smell, what else could it be?

  “Here boy! Here boy!” Ricky decided to try one last time since whatever it was already knew he was here. “Here boy!” and he whistled loud, “Sooowheeet!” as he slowly looked around still half expecting to see a dog come bounding out of the bush. Just inside the dark edge of the forest straight ahead something mimicked Ricky. “Sooowheeet! Whoosh! Whoosh! Thump! Thump!” came a reply. And then he could hear the sound of footfalls and someone running away from him really fast. Ricky looked down at the smooth stone in his hand and felt curious but unafraid. No other smell remained now but that of decaying vegetation and cedar. As he rubbed the smooth surface of the stone with his thumb he pondered what had transpired. Ricky watched a lot of nature shows with his dad and Lex but never once had he heard of something that could run like a man and whistle back to you.