McKenzie’s Branson Brainteaser (8 page)

“We're going to ride ducks?” Sydney asked with a confused look.

McKenzie giggled. “They're not quack-quack ducks. They're vehicles that go on land and in water, like amphibians. Kind of like a boat on wheels.”

“You girls will love it,” Miss Val said. “The Duck will take us on a tour of the town and then drive right into the lake.”

McKenzie had heard about the Ducks but hadn't ridden them yet. She had seen them filled with tourists driving all around town.
I can't wait to ride around Table Rock Lake and see Branson from the water
, she thought.

The next morning the girls grabbed their cameras and drove into town with Miss Val. After arriving at Duck Central, they climbed aboard a waiting Duck. When the seats were filled, the captain gave everyone a noisemaker called a quacker.

McKenzie put it to her mouth and blew.
Quaackk! Quaackk!
Every kid on the Duck blew their quackers, sounding like a chorus of out-of-tune ducks.

The captain began the tour by driving through Branson's historical streets. While driving, he told jokes and talked about Branson and the surrounding Ozark hills. Finally, he drove the Duck to the lake's edge and drove in.

“Woo-hoo!” McKenzie cried as the vehicle splashed into the water like a duck. “I know where this thing gets its name.”

The Duck puttered around the lake. While the captain gave a history of the region, the girls took pictures of the scenery.

“Look at the homes in the hills,” McKenzie said with awe. “Some of them look like mansions.”

“I see a statue up there.” Sydney aimed her camera at a wooden monument visible in a clearing on the hills. “Though I can't tell what it is from here.”

“The hills around here are filled with crafters selling their products. I imagine a woodcrafter is displaying his work,” Miss Val explained as she pulled a pair of sunglasses from her purse.

“I don't see a road. How do people get to his place?” Sydney asked.

“There's probably a gravel road leading to it off the highway somewhere,” Miss Val answered. “These hills are filled with narrow, winding roads.”

“It sure would be fun to explore those hills,” McKenzie said wistfully.

“You would get lost for sure,” Miss Val said with a laugh. “I vacationed down here for years before moving here, and I still get turned around once in a while.”

The captain announced that the cruise was almost over. In a few minutes, he drove the Duck up the boat ramp and onto the highway. The Duck left a trail of water as it sped down the road.

Suddenly, McKenzie turned to Sydney. “I just thought of something. I forgot to tell Shara that I wrote to her Uncle Reggie. If he got our letter, hopefully he'll look her up today.”

How could I have forgotten to tell her about that?
McKenzie thought with dismay. She pulled her cell phone from her pocket and punched in Shara's number. Seconds later, her older friend answered. After telling Shara about the letter, McKenzie hung up.

“Great,” she muttered, stuffing her phone back in her pocket.

“What's the matter?” Sydney asked with concern.

“Shara traded schedules with another girl. So if Mr. Ford does go looking for her, he'll find someone else in the southern belle dress.” McKenzie sighed with disappointment.

“Can't Shara call the girl and tell her that her Uncle Reggie may come around asking about her?” Sydney waved to a little girl standing by the street staring at the Duck as it sped by.

McKenzie shook her head. “Shara said she can't get in touch with the other girl, because the girls can't carry a cell phone while they're out in their hoop skirts. The girl is already on the job parading around downtown Branson. And she also said that if Mr. Ford does come looking for a girl wearing a southern belle dress, he won't approach her after he gets a good look at her. The girl filling in for Shara looks nothing at all like her. She is Asian.”

Sydney's face fell. “That's not fair. Shara just has to find her uncle.”

McKenzie was silent for a few minutes.
I really messed things up
, she thought. Then she had an idea. “Maybe we could hang out at the post office for a while. He has to get his mail sometime.”

“It's worth a try,” Sydney agreed. “Maybe we'll have a few hours when we're done here, before we all go to work.”

After the Duck pulled in to Duck Central, Miss Val said she had errands to run. She agreed to let the girls hang out at the post office while she went about her business.

“How will we know Reggie Ford even if he does come in?” Sydney asked as the girls settled onto a bench outside the post office.

“I caught a glimpse of his face the other day at Silver Dollar City. I think I would recognize him,” McKenzie said, trying to think back. “I know he had a beard. He wasn't real tall and was kind of skinny.”

While they watched and waited, the girls discussed their next steps to look for Mr. Ford. McKenzie kept her gaze on the front door, watching for a man who resembled him.

People of all ages walked by them and through the doors. Yet no one looked like the man she had seen the other day. When Miss Val returned, the girls climbed into the backseat.

“That was useless,” McKenzie said, disappointed. She stared out the window.
Thousands of people are in Branson. I guess there's no way he's going to walk into the post office in front of us
.

“Don't give up, girls,” Miss Val said encouragingly. “Not yet, anyway. You've found signs that he may be in Branson. You may be onto something.”

McKenzie leaned her head back, lost in thought.
I know Miss Val's right. We've found all these little clues about Mr. Ford, but it's so discouraging. We
just
have to find him
.

After pulling into the driveway in front of Miss Val's house, the girls climbed out of the car. Miss Val hurried inside while the girls walked leisurely to the front porch.

“I think I'll go look at my pictures on the computer,” Sydney said, taking her camera from around her neck.

“Go ahead,” McKenzie said. “I'm going to get the mail for Miss Val. Then I'll be in.”

McKenzie turned and headed back down the gravel lane. She swatted a mosquito on her arm and reached into the mailbox. She pulled out a newspaper with a stack of letters inside.
Maybe I have a letter from Mom and Dad
, she thought, thumbing through the envelopes.

At the bottom of a stack of bills, a letter caught her eye. Her name was printed across the front in black ink. She didn't recognize the handwriting but quickly ripped it open. She pulled out a single sheet of tablet paper.

McKenzie gasped as she read the words scrawled across the top:
Leave Reggie Ford alone! He's trying to forget the troubles of his past. He doesn't need people like you stirring up trouble, so don't hurt him anymore!

McKenzie fled up the lane, her tennis shoes crunching the gravel. She took the porch steps two at a time and raced into the house. Clutching the note, she tossed the rest of the mail toward the kitchen table. She missed, and most of it flew to the floor.

“Sydney!” she called, hurrying to her friend who was sitting in front of the computer. “Look at this!”

Sydney grabbed the letter McKenzie thrust in front of her face. Her eyes grew wide, and her jaw dropped. “Who wrote this?”

“I don't know. It's not signed, and there's no return address, either,” McKenzie said as she took a second look at the envelope. “I just noticed that there's no stamp or postmark. Somebody put this letter in our mailbox, and it wasn't the mail carrier.”

Sydney studied the note for a moment. “This is so weird. Why don't we call Alexis and tell her? You know how she's always watching movie mysteries. Maybe she's got an idea where to go from here.”

Alexis loved anything involving detectives. She had read so many mystery books that she was practically a pro herself. She knew most of the old
Hardy Boys
TV shows by heart. If anybody could find a missing clue, it was Alexis.

McKenzie pulled her phone from her pocket and clicked on Alexis's name. A few seconds later, a familiar voice answered.

“Hi, McKenzie. Thanks for the pictures you guys e-mailed. The Ozarks look really cool, but I wish I was there,” Alexis said cheerfully.

“I wish you were here, too. We just got the weirdest note in the mail,” McKenzie said, settling onto a corner of the couch.

After McKenzie read the note, Alexis whistled. “Wow, this must mean you're getting close to finding Mr. Ford. Someone doesn't want you to find him.”

“What do the detectives do in all the mysteries you watch on TV?” McKenzie asked her friend in Sacramento, California.

“Well, they would probably look at the note and envelope for clues,” Alexis suggested. “Can you scan me a copy of them? Send a copy to the other Camp Club Girls, too, and maybe someone can spot a clue. If you've got more pictures, send them along. You never know where you might find a clue. Sometimes they're in plain sight, and we just can't see them.”

McKenzie agreed, and the two girls scanned the two items on the computer to send to their friends.

“Why don't you e-mail our pictures from this morning, too? Alexis wants to see them,” McKenzie said.

You never know where someone might find a clue
, McKenzie thought, repeating Alexis's words.

Another idea came to McKenzie's mind. She slipped the fairy necklace from around her neck, snapped a picture of it, and sent it to the Camp Club Girls. She attached a quick note explaining this was a picture of Mr. Ford's work.

A few minutes later, the girls received an e-mail message from Alexis. She said she'd get back to them after she looked things over. McKenzie silently prayed their Sacramento friend would find a clue.
I'd be happy with a small clue, God. Please, just let us know we're on the right track
.

McKenzie picked Mr. Pibb up off the couch and held him on her lap. He rolled on his back so she could rub his belly. Sydney plopped down beside her, and they studied the note again.

“I don't understand the line ‘don't hurt him anymore.'” Sydney pointed to the last line.

“I noticed that, too. Maybe his family hurt him years ago, but we haven't done anything.” McKenzie propped her legs up on the coffee table and rubbed Mr. Pibb's furry white belly. “Unless …” Her voice trailed off.

“Oh, Sydney, I just thought of something,” she continued. “Maybe Mr. Ford looked for Shara this afternoon. If he saw the girl in the southern belle dress, he would know immediately it wasn't his niece. Maybe he thinks we were playing a mean trick on him, telling him his niece was in town.”

McKenzie's heart sank when she thought that she might have hurt Mr. Ford.
Dear God, forgive me if I made him sad. I was only trying to help
.

Sydney looked at McKenzie with sympathetic eyes. “You didn't do anything wrong. That could be what happened, but what can we do to fix it? I don't think he'll read any more mail from us. Anyway, by the time the mail gets to him, I'll be leaving for home.”

McKenzie stared out the window at the woods surrounding Miss Val's house. “If we could find him, we could tell him Shara is really looking for him.”

Sydney pulled her long legs under her and leaned her elbows on her knees. She cupped her chin in her hands. “We haven't made any more calls to woodcrafting shops. We could try a few more and see if they've heard of the Shara Smiles man.”

“We might as well try that since there's not much else we can do right now.” McKenzie sat Mr. Pibb on the couch and grabbed the phone book off the kitchen counter.

Blip, blip!
The computer announced a new e-mail in McKenzie's inbox.

The girls read the message from Alexis together: