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    The Kumquat Legacy
    The Kumquat Legacy
    The Kumquat Legacy
    Ebook110 pages1 hour

    The Kumquat Legacy

    By Randal Koster

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    About this ebook

    Here's a book for young readers (ages 10 and up) who love mysteries and puzzles. A rich man offers 13-year-old Dave a chance to receive the Kumquat Legacy, a mysterious prize of immense value. To win the prize, Dave must solve a series of riddles. Unfortunately, Cyril, the rich man’s despicable nephew, will use every dirty trick imaginable to solve them first and claim the prize for himself.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherRandal Koster
    Release dateJan 2, 2012
    ISBN9781466192270
    The Kumquat Legacy
    Author

    Randal Koster

    Randal Koster is a working scientist who gets a big kick out of composing detective fiction in his spare time. His image to the left is purposely obscured to add to the mystery of his persona.

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      Book preview

      The Kumquat Legacy - Randal Koster

      The Kumquat Legacy

      by Randal Koster

      Smashwords Edition

      Copyright 2012 Randal Koster

      Smashwords Edition, License Notes

      Thank you for downloading this free ebook. You are welcome to share it with others. This book may be reproduced, copied and distributed for non-commercial purposes, provided the book remains in its complete and original form.

      Chapter 1: The Dead Man

      When I saw the dead man, he was sitting on a bench in Darcy Park.

      I’d better explain that. He wasn’t dead when I saw him that Saturday. He was old, maybe in his 90s, but right then, that Saturday, he was obviously still alive. He died the following week, in his sleep. His heart gave out, just like that. Nobody was surprised. In fact, he amazed his doctor by living as long as he did.

      They tell me that he visited Darcy Park a lot, so I must have seen him before. After all, I’m always in that park myself – it’s right near my house, and it’s a good place to hide out from chores and homework. If I did see him before, though, I don’t remember. I only noticed him that Saturday because of where he was sitting – on a bright, shiny green park bench that held a sign reading, in big capital letters, KEEP OFF – WET PAINT. He was looking straight ahead, at nothing in particular. His fingers danced lazily up and down on the back of the bench, just above the sign.

      Poor guy, I thought to myself. He doesn’t have a clue. I slowed my bike to a stop and hopped off. Excuse me, I said out loud. Did you see that sign? It says …

      ‘Wet paint’, he said, finishing my sentence in a quiet, crackly voice. He said nothing more; he just sat there, looking at me. He sure seemed odd. Of course, at his age, he couldn’t help having a whiskery, sagging chin, wrinkles around his eyes, a freckled bald head, and thin wisps of hair coming out of his ears. But why did he choose to wear a blue suit that was much too big for him, with a bow tie on so crooked that his head looked like it was tipped to one side?

      And his face – I couldn’t read that at all, not with all those wrinkles. Maybe he was grinning, or maybe he was frowning. I guess I stared at him. You mean you know…

      All my life, I’ve done what I should, he explained. I’ve done what all the signs have told me to do. He lifted his cane and tapped it lightly on the words KEEP OFF – WET PAINT. Here’s another sign telling me what to do. When I saw it, I got very excited. I wanted to break a rule! I went back to my room and put on my best suit. Then I came back here and sat down.

      Oh… Okay. I suddenly wanted to leave, as quickly as possible. I didn’t know what else to say to the old man, and even if I did, I wasn’t going to say it. He was weird. I gave him a brief nod – my way of being polite, I guess – and then turned to pick up my bike. That’s when he dropped the bomb.

      Your name’s Dave, isn’t it? he asked, his quiet voice all too clear.

      I froze. How on Earth did he know that? I looked back at him and saw that he had picked up a camera from somewhere and was holding it to his eye. Click! Before I knew it, he had taken my picture.

      I… I don’t understand… I stammered.

      Your name’s Dave, and you have a sister named Loni and a friend named Brent, the old man said. He fell silent again. He just sat there looking at me, as before. I tried reading his face. Did it look friendly? Evil? Mysterious? I couldn’t tell. If I had to guess something, I’d say it looked… sleepy.

      I have to go! I said quickly. I jumped on my bike and sped off, only too glad to get away. I hoped I would never see him again, because now he was really giving me the creeps.

      And I wished so much that he hadn’t taken my picture. I had a funny feeling that somehow, the picture would find its way back to me.

      I was right.

      ****

      The strange expression on the old man’s face haunted me all that morning and through lunch. I just couldn’t get the image of his old, sleepy eyes and his wrinkled grin, if that’s what it was, out of my head. Fortunately, though, the afternoon got busy, and I had other stuff to think about. I had just turned 13, so my family took me to the movies as a birthday present. The next day, Sunday, we drove to Los Angeles – a couple of hours away – to visit my grandparents. And then, of course, came Monday and school. My school is actually in our kitchen, since I’m homeschooled. My sister and I were trying to finish up several units that week, since summer was fast approaching.

      We needed two weeks to finish all of our work. Those two weeks passed by very slowly – lesson, after lesson, worksheet after worksheet. I probably spent half the time looking at the clock. Finally, I handed in my final math test. You know that horseshoe set I got for my birthday? I asked my mom, as she scanned it. Can I dig holes for the stakes in the front yard?

      Oh, I guess so, she said, her eyes still on the test. If you take Loni out there with you. That was no surprise. My mother is always trying to get my younger sister outside, out into the fresh air. Loni would much rather spend every minute of her spare time in the house, where she would read a book, play with her bizarre dollhouse, or work on puzzles. Loni is some kind of genius when it comes to puzzles, as you’ll hear about later. Anyway, she won’t play outside unless she’s forced to. Mom was forcing her to go outside now, sending her out with me.

      Don’t set up the stakes so that you’re throwing the horseshoes toward the house! my mom called out as Loni and I ran out the door. Set it up so that you throw them across the yard sideways!

      I know! I know! I called back impatiently. To be honest, though, I hadn’t thought of that.

      I grabbed a shovel, found the perfect spots in the yard for the stakes, and began to dig. This was more difficult than you might guess. We don’t get a lot of rain where I live, and the shovel kept hitting sandstone. I was hacking away it, trying to scrape through it, when Loni startled me with a hard tap on the shoulder.

      That man was looking at you! she whispered urgently.

      I lifted my head quickly and looked over at where she was pointing. Sure enough, a man in a gray suit was standing in front of our house. Right then he was looking at the numbers on our mailbox while speaking into a cell phone. He had short, neatly trimmed black hair, black-rimmed glasses, and a nose that was much too skinny and long for his wide face. He put the cell phone away and turned to face us. His eyes rested on me, and he studied my face intently. He pulled something from his pocket and looked down at it.

      He looked up again. Is your name Dave? he called out.

      I turned to Loni and whispered, Go inside and get Mom! She left, and I called back to him. I might be. Who are you? I was trying to speak casually, to

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