Runaways
In a rush, the twins declared two things:
First, their father was not allowed to go to Mexico without them.
“It’s not fair,” said Teenie. “He knows we’ve always wanted to go!”
“He can go to Canada,” said Bea. “Maybe.”
Second, Oliver was not allowed to run after his runaway rabbit—not when they had a runaway father to contend with.
“Rabbits are cute, but you have to admit they’re easier to replace,” said Bea. “I mean, you can’t get a new dad at a pet store.”
“That’s right,” said her sister. “We need your help catching Dad before he disappears forever!”
Luckily, they knew somebody who was an expert at catching fugitives.
Grandpa Bruce was a retired police officer. They found him pacing around the grand entry hall, where a pile of gifts had already started to grow.
“Amazing the way folks leave their presents out in the open like that,” he grumbled. “Think you can trust people just because they’re invited guests? Half of this junk will be gone in an hour! Now what’s this video you’re making? I hope it’s for the insurance claim.”
His granddaughters told him about the wedding video, and asked if they could interview him.
“Let me give you some advice about interviews,” Grandpa Bruce said. “Don’t ever let your subject know what you know or don’t know. And don’t ask permission. Just start asking questions.”
“Okay,” said Bea. “Say someone ran away, how would you catch them?”
“Heh. This is my kind of wedding video. Nothing lovey-dovey. Straight to the important stuff. Well, the sad truth is, you often don’t catch them unless they want to be caught.”
The kids looked at one another. This was not encouraging.
“Did our dad run away before?” asked Teenie. “I mean, ever. Like when he was a kid.”
“Not that I recall. We were always much more worried about him being kidnapped, really. Always with his head in the clouds, your dad. And so gullible.”
“Kidnapped?” the kids repeated in unison.
Grandpa Bruce nodded. “Your grandmother, god rest her soul, kept a drawer full of money, just in case we needed to pay a ransom. Those bills wound up coming in handy, let me tell you, when it was time to pay for college.”
After the interview, the kids pondered what Grandpa Bruce had said. Could Simon have been kidnapped? They hadn’t even considered the possibility until now.
“Kidnappers usually leave a note,” said Bea, tapping her nose with her pen.
“Yeah, they make those cool collages out of magazines,” said Teenie.
The kids saw plenty of notes around the gift table. There was even a bird cage filled with greeting cards.
The twins looked through the cards, gingerly avoiding the bird, who looked ill-tempered.
Oliver checked the guest book.
“Oh, that’s nice,” said Oliver. “There’s a poet in the family.”
“You got a funny idea of nice,” Benny said.
Benny’s right, thought Oliver. “It’s a ransom poem!”
The twins were not impressed.
“There’s no such thing as a ransom poem, Oliver,” said Teenie confidently.
She held up an envelope. “Isn’t this cool? It has our names on it! Not just our dads’, or For the Family.”
“Well, aren’t you going to open it?” asked Oliver.
“No, you don’t open presents until after the wedding ceremony,” said Bea. “And before the cake. Everyone knows that, Oliver.”
With this key point of etiquette established, there was no more to be learned at the gift table. They decided to go back to the scene of the crime.
The library was just the way they’d left it. Nothing seemed amiss.
They spun the coffin in all directions. If anything, it was in better shape than before. The wheels spun more smoothly and hardly made any noise. Maybe it was lighter without their fathers inside.
“Seems fine to me,” Teenie said, standing on the coffin. “Somebody give me a push.”
Teenie was starting to pick up speed when the dolly hit something at the edge of the landing. The coffin tipped over and she slid off.
“Aaack! What was that?!” said Teenie, stumbling to her feet.
It was just a pair of shoes. Their dad’s shoes. She pushed them aside.
“Well, nothing’s different around here. No signs of foul play.”
“I figured dad-napping was a stretch.” Bea wrote a note in her notebook. “He must have run away to Mexico after all.”
“What about his shoes?” Oliver gestured to Simon’s shoes, now lying upside down.
“What about them? He took them off to get in the coffin, remember?”
“Yeah, but wouldn’t he put them back on?”
“I’m sure they sell shoes in Mexico, Oliver. But I see your point,” Bea admitted.
The three investigators were silent for a moment.
“Parents are always making you put your shoes on when you go outside,” said Teenie finally. “Why? I never understood it.”
Simon’s phone buzzed again. This time Teenie looked at it immediately. “Oh no!”
“What?!”
“I don’t think Dad went to Mexico after all.”
Their investigation had taken a terrible turn.
