The Unbelievable Oliver and the Sawed-in-Half Dads Read online

  “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.

  The text could not have been clearer, regardless of what the letters looked like. Even Teenie had to agree.

  Their father had been kidnapped, and the kidnapper would be returning later to collect the ransom money.

  “Shouldn’t they have said how much the ransom was?” said Bea. “They must not be very experienced kidnappers.”

  “What does it matter? We don’t have any money anyway,” Teenie pointed out.

  “True,” reflected Bea. “Maybe we could offer something in trade.”

  “Like what?” asked Oliver, who was getting more and more distressed.

  The twins looked at him, considering. He gulped.

  Hostage Negotiations

  If there was anyone who could help with a financial negotiation it was Miguel’s parents, who were partners in a small law firm in Tucson.

  Of course, the kids didn’t want to raise the alarm about the dad-napping; they would have to be sneaky in their line of questioning.

  “Lita and Lito, will you be in our video?” Bea asked her grandparents.

  Miguel encouraged his children to use Spanish when referring to his parents. So the twins called their grandmother and grandfather Abuelita and Abuelito, affectionately shortened to Lita and Lito.

  Both were working hard, preparing for the ceremony. Their grandfather was in charge of assembling the wedding canopy, which looked as though it was about to fall down.

  Lita, meanwhile, was placing paper flowers around the stage.

  The twins’ grandmother had constructed more than a hundred flowers in all shapes and sizes. Some were as big as Bea and Teenie. They were beautiful and must have taken days to make.

  “Oh, are you filming already?” their grandmother asked, addressing the camera. “Miguel and Simon, we love you both so much. I just wish you’d told me you were also using real flowers before I made so many paper ones.”

  “And it wouldn’t hurt to have instructions for this chuppah you ordered from Sweden!” said their grandfather jovially.

  Lita nudged Lito. “Say something nice.”

  “Yes, yes, we couldn’t be happier to have Simon as our son-in-law. And, hey, if it doesn’t work out, we can always handle the divorce! Congratulations, guys!”

  “I have a question that I think my dads would want to know the answer to,” said Teenie. “Do you have any experience with kidnappings?”

  “Or hostage negotiations of any kind?” added Bea.

  Their grandfather laughed. “Why, are you planning on being kidnapped?”

  “Not exactly,” said Bea. “We’re just trying to prepare them for all the different things that could happen to a married couple.”

  Miguel’s parents admitted they had little experience with kidnappers. But they had one piece of advice: Learn all you can about them.

  “Find out what they’re really after,” said their grandfather. “You don’t want to pay a ransom if they’re not going to give you back your loved one anyway.”

  “And remember, you always have two lawyers to lean on,” said their grandmother.

  The twins thanked their grandparents for a lovely interview.

  After a whispered consultation, they decided they should check the front entrance of the gardens. If they knew who’d entered and exited the property, they might have a better idea as to the identity of the kidnapper.

  Spencer, wearing a valet uniform, was standing in the circular driveway. He was more than happy to be interviewed for their video, seeing as he wasn’t doing anything except waiting for guests to arrive.

  “What about people leaving?” asked Teenie. “Have you seen any runaway grooms?”

  Spencer laughed. “Why? Are your dads getting cold feet?”

  “Why did you say that?” asked Bea sharply. “Did you see a pair of feet?”

  “No. It’s just an expression.”

  “And what about suspicious-looking objects?” pressed Teenie. “Something human-size maybe, like a mummy? Or anything with arms and legs sticking out?”

  “No, nothing like that,” said Spencer. “Nobody has come or gone for an hour. Not since the baker left and the caterers arrived.”

  “Really? Nobody at all?” The kids looked at one another in surprise. “Is there another way out?”

  “Nope. This place is like a walled fortress.” Spencer eyed the phone in Teenie’s hand. “I like this video you’re making. It’s kind of Simon and Miguel’s Wedding: American Crime Story.”

  “Excuse me, can you tell us where to find the corpse flower?”

  A pair of tourists were walking up, cameras and guidebooks in hand.

  “Sorry, the gardens are closed for a special event,” said Spencer. “But I’m sure—”

  Before Spencer could finish, a tall, frowning man in dirty gardener’s overalls and a fraying straw hat stepped in front of the tourists.

  “The corpse flower does not like visitors,” he said in such an unfriendly voice that the tourists backed away without another word.

  The grim-faced gardener nodded curtly, then disappeared as silently as he’d come.

  Bea pulled the video crew away from Spencer.

  “Nobody has left the premises,” she said, tapping her notebook. “That means Dad didn’t run away AND the kidnapper didn’t take him away.”

  “So then he’s here,” said Oliver. “Which is good news, right?”

  Teenie nodded. “I mean, so what if he’s a prisoner? What could happen to him at good old Hauntington Gardens?”

  They all turned to take in the view. From where they stood in the shadow of the old stone mansion, they could see the cobwebby conservatory in which the famously foul-smelling corpse flower bloomed. It was not a reassuring sight.

  The gardener was standing in front of the conservatory and appeared to be communicating with the flower inside.

  “I wonder why they call them corpse flowers,” said Teenie.

  “I thought it was because they smell like corpses,” said Oliver.

  “Yeah, but why do they smell like that?” asked Teenie darkly.

  As they watched, the gardener strode off in the direction of the giant hedge maze that bordered the gardens like a topiary fortress.

  “He’s going into the maze—like that monster in the Greek myth.”

  The twins had recently read the myth of the Minotaur, the bull-headed monster that haunted the labyrinth in ancient Crete.

  “He’s scarier than a Minotaur,�
� exclaimed Bea. “He’s the Garden-o-taur!”

  “Wait, what if somebody else is in there?” said Teenie.

  “Like Dad?”

  Teenie nodded. If Simon was lost, which seemed more than likely, knowing him, the hedge maze was the logical place to look for him. After all, it was designed to get lost in.

  A cloud passed in front of the sun, casting dark shadows over the gardens and causing the kids to shiver.

  “Okay, Teenie, you better go in to look for him,” said Bea grimly.

  “But I just did a maze this morning!”

  “That maze was on paper. It doesn’t count.”

  “It’s okay,” said Oliver bravely. “I’ll go.”

  “You will?” The twins stared at him in surprise.

  “I have to. The Garden-o-taur is chasing Benny!”

  Oliver pointed to the small white animal running into the hedge maze with the very large gardener chasing after him.

  “I hope he doesn’t feed Benny to the corpse flower!” said Teenie. “We’ll come too!”

  Rabbit Run

  Benny couldn’t believe his luck. The vegetable patch at Hauntington Gardens was laid out like a buffet, with each dish carefully labeled and presented. “Better than brunch at the Sands,” Benny said to himself, fondly remembering the buffets at his favorite Las Vegas casino.

  However, just like in Vegas, Benny’s luck ran out. The Hauntington Gardens’ gardener had caught him chewing on some parsnip, and had chased him into the hedge maze. Benny was still a few feet ahead of his pursuer, but he was lost. If he didn’t find his way out of the maze soon, he’d be swept up in the gardener’s net.

  Worse yet, a rat blocked his way. Benny hated rats. They always got other, more respectable rodents into trouble.

  “Outta my way, rat,” Benny said.

  “What are you running from, mate?” the rat asked. “Bunch of pesky kids back that way.”

  “I’m running from the gardener.”

  “Oh, he’s harmless, unless you’re a topiary,” the rat said. “It’s the chef you’ve got to worry about. She’ll dice you to bits and feed you to the guests. And you’re headed right for her kitchen. Trust me, nobody knows this maze better than me.”

  Benny didn’t trust rats, but he didn’t trust chefs either. He asked which way to go.

  Benny soon discovered he’d been right not to trust the rat. Sure, the rat led him out of the maze—straight into the most terrifying area.

  The wedding.

  Guests were everywhere now, along with servers passing appetizers from the dreaded kitchen. One wrong step and he’d be turned into a canapé.

  To make matters worse, the gardener was approaching with his net.

  Sitting at the bar was the one person Benny could trust at this wedding other than Oliver: Diane, Oliver’s mother.

  Benny jumped into Diane’s lap just as the gardener swung for him with his net.

  “Ma’am, watch out for that rabbit!”

  “Don’t be silly, this is my rabbit,” said Diane. “Well, my son’s rabbit.”

  “Sorry, we don’t allow animals off leash at the Hauntington,” said the gardener. “Not even rabbits.”

  “He’s a service rabbit.” Diane stroked Benny’s head. “Surely you make exceptions for service rabbits. Doctor’s orders. I’m a registered nurse. Here, we have all the paperwork somewhere.”

  Diane opened her purse and pulled out a stethoscope, some tissues, and various snacks.

  “No, that’s fine, ma’am,” said the gardener kindly. “We just can’t have him in the gardens. If you like, we have a petting zoo for rabbits, goats, and geese.”

  Benny yelped in horror.

  “No, but thank you,” said Diane as the gardener walked away, shaking his head in puzzlement.

  Oliver’s mother wagged her finger at Benny. “You know not to go running away like that.”

  She stared at the rabbit, then noticed Uncle Jeff standing behind the bar.

  “Oh, phew. You’re still here. For a second I thought I heard the rabbit talking!”

  Uncle Jeff smiled and placed a crudité platter in front of her. “Hungry?”

  “No, but I’m sure he is.” Diane swung Benny onto the bar. He immediately started nibbling. Even though he was beyond full, a little bit of celery couldn’t hurt.

  “Man, am I tired!” Diane yawned as Uncle Jeff started rinsing glasses. “I haven’t slept in days. Oh, the life of an ER nurse.”

  His mouth full of broccoli and carrots, Benny tried his best to make polite conversation. “Sounds like show business. Long hours, late nights. You don’t choose the life, it chooses you.”

  “Cheers to that,” Diane said.

  She clinked glasses with a confused Uncle Jeff, who was drying a wet glass with a rag. He shrugged and ducked below the bar.

  “I wanted a quiet life,” Benny continued. “A little burrow in the country. Twenty . . . thirty kids max. But Daisy had to have a big wedding. So we go to Vegas. What happens? She runs off with some high-rolling hare and leaves me at the altar!”

  “That’s such a sad story, Jeff,” said Diane, still thinking it was the bartender talking. “But honestly, twenty kids is too many for anybody.”

  “Sure is,” said Jeff, standing again. As far as he was concerned, one kid was too many.

  Benny finished the last of the carrots and crawled into Oliver’s mother’s lap. Maybe she’d have more snacks. Moms often carried snacks.

  From Maze to Mansion

  Teenie led the way through the hedge maze, holding her father’s phone in front of her, so as to check around corners and avoid dead ends. If they were going to die in the maze, she wanted to have a little warning first.

  “Daddy? Are you there?” Teenie called out.

  Bea followed behind, at a safe-ish distance. “Daddy, if you hear us, send up a flare!”

  Oliver was last. “Benny? Can you hear me?”

  “Here, Benny, Benny, Benny!” called Teenie.

  “Shh!” said Oliver. “He hates that!”

  Turning and turning, going deeper and deeper into the maze, they didn’t find any lost fathers or lost rabbits.

  Instead, they got lost.

  Sadly, characters in books don’t have an all-seeing, bird’s-eye view of their surroundings. Happily, we authors and readers do. We can’t get lost.

  “I wish we had a ladder to see over that hedge,” said Oliver.

  Without warning, Teenie jumped on Bea’s shoulders. She couldn’t see the exit.

  But she could see something else. “It’s the Garden-o-taur! Run!”

  Teenie grabbed handfuls of petals to toss behind them as they ran.

  “Don’t worry, Oliver,” Teenie shouted. “I’m a trained flower assassin, just follow the petals!”

  Oliver followed the trail and got stuck in the same dead ends as Teenie and Bea.

  With each wrong turn, he could hear the gardener getting closer.

  SNIP. SNIP. SNIP.

  Finally, Bea couldn’t take it any longer. “That’s it! I’m breaking out!” The trail of flower petals ended in a girl-shaped hole in the hedge.

  Oliver slipped through the hole and found himself sliding down a slimy staircase that ended underneath the mansion.

  “Aaack!” He crashed through an open door and landed in a heap at the bottom of the stairs, which would have been even more painful had not the twins been there to break his fall.

  It was almost too dark to see, with the only light coming from the door they’d entered, but at least they were together again.

  “Do you think this is the dungeon?” Bea said. “A mansion this size must have at least one dungeon.”

  “What else could it be?” Teenie said.

  Bea didn’t see any wall shackles or other standard dungeon d�
�cor. But there were a great many barrels. She’d read enough horror stories to know that any one of them could be housing their father.

  She tapped on a barrel. “Maybe they’re hiding Dad in here.” Something scampered out of the top, but it wasn’t their father.

  “What was that?!” asked Oliver.

  Teenie used her father’s phone to light the room. There was a single well-fed raccoon in the corner, shielding its eyes.

  “Oh, don’t worry,” said Teenie. “It’s just a raccoon.”

  “AAAHHH!” Bea and Oliver were both properly scared of raccoons.

  The raccoon looked at them disdainfully, then wandered away.

  “Where’s the light switch?” said Oliver.

  He felt around on the wall but found only holes.

  “Maybe there’s a string or something you pull?” suggested Bea.

  “I don’t want to check the ceiling,” said Oliver. “What if there are bats up there?”

  Teenie flashed the phone’s light overhead.

  “See, almost no bats!”

  But there were many cobwebs and a single rope. When they pulled it, a trapdoor opened, and a ladder dropped to the floor with a clang.

  Secret Passages

  The ladder led back into the library.

  “I knew there was a secret passage!” Bea shouted before remembering that she was in a library. “I just didn’t check enough books to find the secret lever,” she added in an appropriate whisper.

  A book stuck out from the shelf. It was the slim Y volume of the encyclopedia. (Bea had previously stopped at X.) She pushed the book back into place, and the trapdoor in the floor slammed shut.

  The library grew quiet, even for a library.