I've finally taken the plunge. For years friends have been trying to get me to read mystery stories. Last month I started. And I've been mowing through them like a combine through wheat.
Athletes can never learn of a new sport without wanting to try it. And writers are like athletes (without the muscles and hand-eye coordination): We can't learn of a new form of writing without giving it a go.So, patient readers, today I'm inflicting my first mystery story on you. It's fiction. And it's called:
SEEING RED
Do you have any idea how many detective stories begin with someone's phone ringing? I've read eight, and I'm only in the sixth grade. I was reading one of those stories the other night when our phone rang. It was for me.
"Donald J. Davis, detective," I said.
"Right, Donny," the voice said. It was my best friend, Buster. Buster thinks I'm silly to pretend I'm a detective. Still, he does call me when he needs a problem solved. This time his problem was a real doozy.
"Meet me at McDonald's," he said. "I have a note to show you. It's the weirdest note in the history of the universe. My sister wrote it last night while staring at the television."
"I'll be there in five minutes," I said.
At McDonald's the Happy Meal crowd was just clearing out and the McNuggets crowd was rolling in. I ordered fries and cherry pie, took a seat by the window and waited. Before long, Buster ran in.
"Read!" he said, jamming the note against my chest. I read. The note said: Pink waterfall, pink stars, red floors and lights. All else, pink.
"You're right," I said. "This is a weird note. What does it mean?"
Buster rolled his eyes. "You tell me," he said. "You're the detective."
I looked out the window at the traffic and let my big brain work. I'm known for my big brain. What's all pink? I asked myself. What's all red? Stop signs? Lemonade? Russian flags? Mars? Suddenly my big brain froze on the word "Mars" and started to flash. Everything on Mars - the sky, the dust, even the mountains - was either red or pink. And so was everything in Buster's note.
"Don't panic," I said to Buster, "but I think your sister's been getting messages from Mars."
"Right," he said.
"Listen," I said. "I'm positive. Everything on Mars is pink and red - the ground, the sky, the sun - I've seen pictures. And everything in your sister's note is, too. That's the only answer, Buster. She's been getting messages from Martians through the television set."
"We better get back to my place fast!" Buster said.
Three minutes later Buster and I burst through his front door. The living room was full of pink - pink paper, flowers, cloth. I'd never seen so much pink. Buster slapped his head.
"We're too late!" he said. "They got her! They got my sister!"
Just then Buster's sister came backing out of the hall closet. She looked like she was searching for something.
"What's that you're babbling?" she said. "Who got who?"
"The Martians," Buster said. "I thought you were a goner. I read the note. I know all about the pink and red stuff." He handed the note to her.
"There it is!" Buster's sister said. "I've been looking for that note all morning. It's the list of pink and red items I'm having at my wedding reception in two weeks." She gave Buster a mean look. "You're in big trouble, little brother. Wait till Mother hears about this!" She stormed away.
Buster turned and gave me a cold stare.
"Well," I said, "it could have been from Mars."
The stare got colder.
"Look," I said, "for making a mistake, I'll only charge you half my going rate." Then I turned and high-tailed it out of the house. I had to.
Buster was just one step behind me.