Black Eagle Pass

Book 2 Mosquito Creek Detective Club - Chapter 1

CHAPTER ONE

Ten Shopping Days To Christmas

Dear Patrick, December 26, 1997

            It’s the day after Christmas here, Boxing Day where you are, and it’s been a pretty wild Yuletide for us. Remember our weird summer? Well, the last two weeks were just as nuts. We didn’t see it coming cause everything started out pretty normal…

**********

Saturday, December 15

            “Hey.  Duck sucker!”

            Eric Molosky’s first snowball sailed across the width of the front yard. The ball of loosely formed flakes hit his younger brother Marc between his chin and right shoulder, sending a mini shower of snow spraying across Marc’s face.  It settled in a wet clump in his thick, dark blonde hair.

  “I wasn’t ready yet!”  Marc protested from his side of the yard.

            Eric sent a second snowball high into the air. It arced slightly then dropped straight down behind Marc’s snow wall.  “Yikes!” Marc’s head shot up.  Snow was stuck to the top of his hood. He spoke through clenched teeth. “Will - you - wait - just one - more - minute!” 

            He dropped from sight again.

            At the age of nine, Eric was the older of the two brothers by just thirteen months.  Both boys had their grandfather’s thick curly hair, but Eric’s hair was a definite brown. He rarely brushed it, so it stuck out from under his knitted toque. Marc’s hair was a dark blonde like his mother. Eric was only slightly taller than his younger brother with a much stockier build.

Eric had a pretty substantial stack of pre-made snowballs piled inside his wagon and on the ground beside it, ready to throw.  He had made extra ammunition after school the day before, safely stored in a closed cardboard box, covered by snow. Both boy and battle supplies were protected behind the three-foot wall of a carefully built snow fort.

            Marc had only a few snowballs ready.  He had stayed inside the house an extra thirty minutes after breakfast to watch another episode of Spiderman.  His fort walls were a full eight inches lower than his brother’s walls. Because of that, Marc couldn’t get beyond an awkward low crouch to throw without getting hit.

            The brothers built their snow forts on opposite sides of the front yard. The red brick sidewalk acted as the official border between the two warring kings.

            King-Marc built his fort on the north side of the sidewalk with the lilac hedge at his back. He had struggled with the snow block making technique his grandpa had showed his two grandsons. Marc also had to contend with Joker.  The family dog kept jumping over Marc’s walls wanting to play.  Every time he did that, Joker knocked down chunks of Marc’s shoddy construction.

            Sacrificing some homework time to perfect his defense wall, King-Eric had not only caught on to snow block making, he used water between layers to make his walls more like ice than packed snow.  He located his fort with the thick trunk of the yard’s fifty-year-old cottonwood tree protecting his back.  Behind the tree ran the brick driveway.

            Eric had counted to sixty silently to himself. At sixty, with his ammunition at easy reach, he restarted his assault.  He kept the snowballs going at such a pace that Marc could hardly see high enough above his snow-wall to aim back.

            Their mother was in the house and had just turned off the vacuum cleaner.  As Mrs. Molosky rewound the electric cord, she glanced out of the living room window and spotted her sons.  “Those little brats.” 

            Grandpa Molosky looked up from paying some bills.  He sat at the dining room table, with papers, envelops, stamps and statements scattered across the entire surface. “What are they doing now?”

He put a stamp on the last envelope then got up from his chair and stretched.  He walked to the window to see for himself.  The two snow shovels were abandoned at the end of the brick walkway.

            “Look what they’ve done.” His daughter-in-law pointed.  “I asked them to clear the snow from the front walk. But with their snowball fight, all the snow they cleared has covered up the walk again.”

            Mom and Grandpa could see that battle conditions were grim for Marc.  He was launching only one snowball at his brother for every eight Eric shot at him.

            When Mrs. Molosky and her father in-law looked at each other, they both had the same idea at the same time.  “Let’s get him.”  They said in unison.  They rushed to the back of the house through the kitchen to the laundry porch.  There they each grabbed only mitts and a scarf. 

Outside, they crept close to the wall of the house while they hurried to make several snowballs.  Armed with snowballs carried in their scarves, they came up behind Eric from the far side of the driveway.

            When he rose up to pelt his brother for another round, Eric was peppered by snowballs aimed at him from his right. Startled, Eric dropped for cover behind his snow wall. At first, he thought he had been attacked by his two sisters, but then he heard his mother laugh.

When his head came back up, he discovered that he’d been ambushed by his mother and his grandpa. But when Eric noticed that neither of his new assailants wore jackets, he called to his brother.  “Marc!” 

In a flash, Marc was across the yard. He leaped behind Eric’s snow wall and the two kings joined forces with a heated offensive - driving the invaders away.

**********

            Around the corner, Mr. Cho was perched high on his extension ladder.  He was leaning precariously against the upper shelves inside his garage.  His daughters Mia and Niki with their friend Philip Peters waited below.  The kids were so bundled up against the winter cold they were oval shaped, like Antarctic penguins.  Dressed in padded pants, winter jackets, boots, hats and gloves, they were excited but impatient. 

Mr. Cho was searching for the box of Christmas lights. He had never put-up Christmas lights.  The Cho family were Buddhist’s.  Christmas had never been a celebration they had considered embracing. When their daughter Mia bought the box of green Christmas lights at a garage sale the previous summer with her allowance, Mr. Cho and his wife who were generous, tolerant people, decided to include a Menorah to put in their window too.

            In previous years their house on Salmon Avenue had been the only house without lights or a wreath or any seasonal decoration.  This season pretty much any celebration that was recognized for several cultures during the winter solstice was included. They may have gone overboard – but they certainly left no one out.  This December, the Cho house became a kind of secular United Nations.

            “Aw, there it is.” As Mr. Cho reached for the box of lights, he hit a smaller box in front of it with his elbow.  When he grabbed for the smaller box one of the girl’s ball gloves fell out and hit Philip on the head.  “You okay Philip?

            Philip nodded as he picked up the ball glove.

Niki grabbed Philip’s jacket by one shoulder, then she and Phillip waddled out to the driveway.  Niki directed Philip to stand back while she made a large snowball for him to catch in the softball mitt.

            Blowing off the dust, Mr. Cho handed the box down to his older daughter.  With a smile as big as the box, Mia headed out through the open garage door with her prize.  Mia was thrilled they too would have lights this year - lots of them!

Mr. Cho climbed down and followed his daughter to the front porch.  “Okay, you two get back over here and help untangle these lights.”

            “How many strands did you buy?”  Mr. Cho asked, as his daughter pulled out a beach ball sized bundle of wire attached to large, oval shaped green bulbs.

            “The Voss’s were selling six strands, this whole box.” Mia answered.  She stared at the large knot of wire and bulbs, worried.  “Where do we start?”

            Mr. Cho studied the jumble looking for the connecting plugs.  “Here Philip, this is a plug end.  Hold onto this please.”  With more untwisting, the wires and bulbs began to look less and less like a growth of wild Polish mistletoe, and more and more like separate cords.

            Snow had started to fall again.  Intricately patterned flakes drifted to the ground like tiny feathers.

            One strand at a time, as each child held an end, they managed to untangle all of the lines.  Some of the bulbs were broken and some were missing completely.

            “My dad has new lights you can buy for the broken ones.”  Philip offered.

            “Daddy, how are we going to put up the lights?” Niki asked.

            Mr. Cho looked up to his roof, then to the porch.  “I – have – no - idea.  This is obviously more complicated that I thought.”  He then looked from the far-left front corner of his house across to the garage and back.   “Let’s go see Philip’s dad.”

**********

            Lost Creek was frozen to a depth of a full nine inches.  The ice was perfect for two wannabe figure skating stars.

Sonia Molosky wore silver-gray earmuffs she bought to match her new sweater. Her dark blonde hair was gathered up into a high ponytail to keep it out of her face when she practiced her spins.

            Her best friend Hanna Gaikis had short, dark brown curly hair that couldn’t be completely contained under her bright pink knitted cap. The cap matched the oversized sweater Hanna took from her mother’s closet.  Their legs were covered by tights under short, gathered skirts they had sewn in their school fashion class. Their heavy turtleneck sweaters were just visible under quilted vests. Skating in style was just as important as perfect turns.

            Both girls showed up early with their skates and two snow shovels to clear new snow off the ice. Cleaning a square area about thirty feet by thirty feet was more than enough space for them to practice their spins, twirls and jumps.  The ice was best where the summer flow curved out from a wide bend and the current was weak in the late fall.  When the creek froze at that point – it was almost perfectly smooth.     

            Other people had arrived early at Lost Creek too. Joey Salas, Gordon McKenna, with Leif and Stephen Anderlund, set up for their first race. From a crouched position they ran toward the edge of the snow piled slope.  Four bodies hit their waiting plastic saucers, sending them like giant whirling Frisbees, down the steep drop above Lost Creek.

Stephen lost control at the bottom of the hill. He flipped like a pancake landing upside down.  Gordon slid too close to the soft drifted snow at the edge of their racing hill and his weight collapsed the powder.  He dropped sharply to the left where he pitched over a steep ledge just above the bend in the creek.  He toppled both Hanna and Sonia like they were bowling pins.

Joey and Leif rocked their saucers and shifted their weight to stay the course. They bent forward as low as they could to keep up their speed. It was a photo finish.  They both crossed the snow-covered road, shot across the deer path then went down the drop onto Lost Creek - together. 

“Yahoo!” They cheered.

But skidding across the ice they picked up more speed.  With nothing to slow them down, they were propelled up over the opposite bank, and onto the other side - airborne.  

Joey hit a drift of snow and became wedged in place.  Leif’s saucer headed for a dip in the terrain.  He didn’t correct in time and toppled over face down in deep, soft powder.  When he lifted his head, his grey eyes were fringed with snow on his lashes and eyebrows.

Stephen picked himself up from his spill and walked to the edge of the creek. Neither his friends nor his brother were on their feet.  “Well, our next run will need some work.”

Hanna sat up retrieving her pink cap. One glove was out of reach. Her dignity was scattered much further than her clothing. “You lunatics! You guys have about as much control over those things as Mrs. Carter’s twins have over their bladders!”  She helped Sonia to stand. They wobbled a little unsteady together. “You almost killed us!”

            Gordon and his saucer had parted.  The saucer had veered right, while Gordon slid to the left.  He was on his back trying to catch snowflakes with his tongue.  “Is that so?” He raised himself up on one elbow.  “Well, I’ll trade you my saucer for your skates.  And I bet you–my chores for one week–that you can’t do any better.”

            “You’re on, mister.”

**********

            Mr. Carter was digging out his pickup truck, again.  The grader had packed snow all around his parked half ton, two days in a row. As he tossed another shovel-full onto the street, he looked up to see Mr. Voss’s tow-truck haul Mr. Sullivan’s newspaper delivery van to LoneHawk’s Service Station.

            In the next block, Mayor Peters was out too.  He was in front of his hardware store clearing the snow off of the walk for the third time that day.  The town’s mayor had just cleared about half of the new fallen powder when Mr. Cho pulled up to the curb and stopped.

In Mr. Cho’s car were his two daughters Mia and Niki and the mayor’s adopted son, Philip. The mayor was not surprised to see his son with the Cho family, or any other family in town.  Philip’s days were busy as he went from house to house – very much a member of everyone’s weekly life.

Philip was, the third and youngest son of Mayor and Mrs. Peters.  Philip had been born with Down’s syndrome.  When Philip was three years old, his mother Frances Cooper disappeared.  It was later discovered that she had died.  When Mayor and Mrs. Peters adopted Philip, it was more of a technical formality.  By the time Philip was six, he had attached himself to everyone in Mosquito Creek and everyone in Mosquito Creek had attached themselves to him.

            At ten years old, Philip was bright and happy - and - much wiser than most strangers gave him credit.

“Dad, Mr. Cho needs some help with his Christmas lights.”  With great authority, Philip marched by his father leading a short procession into the store.

**********

There were four new guests registered at the Deer Lodge Motel.  Four men had arrived in three separate vehicles, at three different times.  According to plan, they chose cottages side by side in the back row.  None of those cabins were visible from the main road that led into town.

            Hanna rushed from the creek to get to her new job. So, she wouldn’t be late she hadn’t gone home to change. Instead, she dropped her skates by the motel’s laundry barrel then scooped up fresh towels, linens and cleaning supplies, still wearing her skating outfit. 

Mrs. MaCoy was managing the front desk when Harold Minta and Zane Santo arrived to check in. Her husband was installing new washers to stop water leaking from the faucets in the bathrooms of cottages #6 and #7.  Mrs. MaCoy recognized both of the men immediately.  They too had grown up in Mosquito Creek and graduated from La Barge High School.

For the naturally curious folks of Mosquito Creek, Mr. Minta and Mr. Santo had their cover story well-rehearsed.  They were casually dressed in new jeans and sweaters. Their only visible luggage was one backpack. They chose to share cabin #15.

            One hour later, Mrs. MaCoy had left for the post office.  Mr. MaCoy was at the front desk when Saul Seger checked in.  Mr. Seger wore a navy, pinstripe business suit that for appearances, made his cover story sound genuine. He chose cabin #16.

Two hours after the first three men checked in, Mrs. MaCoy was back on duty at the front desk.  It was almost 5 PM, and Mr. MaCoy was in his workshop repairing a chair from cabin #3 while he watched a hockey game between the Calgary Flames and Denver Avalanche. 

The snow was falling harder. Daylight had faded when Duane Earl signed the guest card.  He wore a brown tweed suit jacket and brown wool dress pants. Mr. Earl chose cabin, #14.

            Hanna was cleaning the bathroom in cottage #8.  The window over the tub was so high she had to stand on the chair from the room’s desk to clean the glass. As she wiped around the edge of the window, she spotted the headlights of another car that pulled in front of the last available cabin in the back row of cottages.

            She thought it was odd that when the man got out of his car, he didn’t let himself into his cottage. Instead, he looked around then walked to cabin #16 and knocked on the door.  Hanna couldn’t see who opened the door, but the man had a conversation with someone for several minutes then walked back to his car. From the back seat he took out a large canvas bag and then unlocked the door of #14 to let himself in.

She finished the window, returned the chair to its place by the desk then hurried back to the supply room.  Hanna had one more cabin to clean before she could leave at six o’clock.

As darkness, and more snow settled in for the night, the only guests Mrs. and Mr. MaCoy discussed during dinner was the surprise arrival of their former school chums. Husband and wife didn’t mention the other two men who had checked in that afternoon. They were of no particular interest.

Harold Minta and Zane Santo had been disinterested students.  They just barely graduated from the small local high school. The day after graduation they hitched a ride to Montana’s capitol, Helena, kept going and never looked back. 

But the other two men Saul Seger and Duane Earl never attended any high school. They had finished much of their education in a federal prison in Kansas.

**********

Dr. Howes’ two college aged daughters were home for the holidays. In their front yard, each girl had built a six-foot snowman. One snowman was dressed with a straw hat, a black comb for a moustache and an old stethoscope. The second snowman wore a pink wig, reading glasses and a shawl.

            When the girls and their mother returned home from a late afternoon of shopping, they turned on the outside lights. With the red and green footlights illuminating the snowmen, they discovered both heads were missing. On the ground lay the straw hat, the wig, the comb, and the glasses. The heads were broken in chunks.