Chapter 9: Tender Words of Love

Outside of Drew’s movie, there was nothing scheduled the next day.  That was a problem, as days with empty schedules can be quite boring.  This one proved to be no exception.  For instance, Edward never would have consented to wander around a flower garden with his little sister if he had anything else to do.

“What a boring garden,” he commented.  “It’s just flowers.”

“It’s kind of pretty, isn’t it?” asked Renee.

“Pretty useless.  What do these flowers do?  They just sit here and look nice.  What this garden needs is some Venus flytraps.”

Renee laughed.  “I don’t think they have enough of a fly problem for that.”

“Flies are everywhere,” said Edward.  “I haven’t—say, isn’t that Mr. Blaine’s daughter and her fiancée, sitting on that bench over there?”

Renee stood on her tiptoes and peered over about five hedges.  “Sure is,” she said.  “They look like they’re having a private conversation.”

“Not for long,” said Edward, reaching into his pocket.  “We’re supposed to find out everything about everybody.”  With that, he pulled out a small remote control car.  He pushed a button on it, placed it on the ground, and pulled out the controller.  The car went skimming under bushes until it wound up under the bench.

Edward and Renee crouched behind their bush, and Edward inserted some headphones into the controller.  “Shh!” he said.

“—really wonderful, darling,” Hannah was saying.  “I can’t understand why Father doesn’t like you.”

“Oh, your old man’s not so hard to understand,” said Mr. Coffman.  “Always thinking of your fortune.  I can’t say I blame him.  If I were in his shoes, I’d mistrust myself.  You’re so lucky.”

“At least he’s letting us go through with the wedding,” said Hannah.

“Of course!  Why wouldn’t he?  Hannah, I’ve been thinking.  Your father sees me as a nothing, a no-good, a poor man looking to capitalize on your fortune.  He sees me as an economic drag.  Well, I’ve got a way to prove to him that that’s not the case.”

“What?”

“My company is looking for new airplane designs,” said Mr. Coffman.  “Your father’s famous for his.  There’s a rumor going around that he’s working on one right now.  My company’s willing to make him a generous offer.”

“Why, Peter, that’s wonderful!”

“Sure is, beautiful.  What’s he working on?”

“Working on?”

“Yeah, you know.  His project?”

Hannah laughed.  “I’m afraid I don’t know any more about it than you do, Peter.  Father keeps his business affairs to himself.”

“Oh, I see,” said Peter.  “That’s too bad.  He hasn’t said anything about it, and my company isn’t sure if they’d be interested.  Hannah, you’re his daughter.  Do you think you could convince him to let you know what he’s working on?”

“I don’t know, darling, but I’ll give it a try.”

“Hannah, you’re marvelous!”  There was a sound that rhymed with gooch.  Renee stood up just in time to see Peter and Hannah do the same.

“I’ll be by tomorrow, about this time,” said Peter.  “Goodbye, my love.”

“Aw, how sweet,” murmured Edward.  “And very interesting.  Let me know when they’ve walked away from the bench.”

“They’re far enough away now,” said Renee.  Edward rolled the car back, took off the headphones, and packed up his stuff.

“What did he say?” asked Renee.

“He wants Hannah to find out what her father’s working on,” said Edward.  “Says his company might be interested.”

“What company does he work for?” said Renee.

“You know, he didn’t say,” said Edward.  “That’s a good question.  All he said was that they were interested in new airplane designs.”

“Is it Boeing, or is it Black Market Contraband International?” said Renee.

“No idea,” said Edward.  “Shouldn’t be too hard to figure out.  Why don’t you go ask Hannah?”

Renee darted towards the house and soon caught up with Hannah, making her way towards the front door.

“Hello,” said Renee.

“Hello,” said Hannah.  “Enjoying your vacation?”

“You bet,” said Renee.  “I was just going for a walk around the gardens.”

“What a coincidence; so was I,” said Hannah.

“I know; I saw you,” said Renee.  “You love Peter, don’t you?”

Hannah sighed.  “He’s the most wonderful guy in the whole world.”

“He seems like it,” Renee smiled.  “I don’t know him very well, but he’s very well-mannered.”

“He’s always like that,” said Hannah.  “Just the best gentleman someone could ask for.”

“He’s got a good job too, doesn’t he?” asked Renee.

Hannah nodded.

“Where does he work?”

“One of the airplane companies,” said Hannah.  “Not Father’s.  That’s probably a big reason Father doesn’t like him.  Peter’s pretty high up in the company, though.  I keep telling Father it would be best for both companies if he married me.”

“Don’t worry, Miss Blaine.  I’m sure things will work out for you.”

Miss Blaine smiled at her new friend.  “Thanks for the encouragement,” she said.  “I’m sure things will work out alright for your father, as well.”

Chapter 8: Where Are the Mushrooms?

Mr. Blaine’s house was no ordinary house, and his garage was no ordinary garage.  For one thing, it was a little bigger than usual.  For another thing, it was a little fuller than usual.  Porsches, Ferraris, Aston Martins—you name it, Mr. Blaine probably had it.

In the midst of all these sat a car quite different from the rest: the Maserati Quattroporte.  It was the only Maserati in the garage, but there were other things about this car that made it different.  It had some special features as well.  Special, special features.  It also didn’t belong to Blaine; it had been left at his residence specifically for the Lawrences.

“What a car!” said Drew, thrilled to be the driver.  “I should have left you all at home!”

“Well, if you had,” said Carol, in mock protest, “you’d never have heard what I found out about the Graz Conference.”

“Yes, tell me about it,” said Drew.  “I’m eager to hear.”

Carol pulled out her fake compact and flipped it open. “Schlegel mentioned it at the golf match, right?”

“Definitely,” replied Drew.

“Schlegel’s name wasn’t on the list of attendees, but Germany was at the forefront.  They failed to fully account for their navy.  The U.S. and Canada are certain they’ve spotted German nuclear subs that Germany’s not acknowledging.”

“Really?” said Drew.

“There’s more,” said Carol.  “I looked through our records of who was at the conference.  Who does this look like?”

“Hold on a second,” said Drew, pulling over.  He glanced at the compact.  “Holy cow!  That’s Schlegel!”

“Uh-huh,” said Carol.  “Only, he didn’t go by Schlegel at the conference.  He was Helmut Weber there.”

“Interesting,” said Drew.  “So he’s some sort of spy.”

“It looks like we’ve found our man,” said Edward.

“Not so fast,” said Drew.  “There are other suspects.  Jean-Luc Bourdon knows nothing about hockey.  The Nordiques haven’t played in Quebec since 1995.”

“We know he’s a spy,” said Carol.

“But what for?” asked Edward.

“I don’t know,” said Drew.  “Are Bourdon and Schlegel working together, or are they even working on the same thing?  We don’t know yet, and if we nab one of them, the other is certain to get suspicious.  We’ve got to find out more.”

“Maybe we’ll learn something at the restaurant,” said Carol.  “Isn’t that it, up ahead?”

“You’re right,” said Drew, quickly getting over into the right lane and drawing a honk from the guy behind him.  He turned over a slight bump into the old, cement parking lot for the drive-in.  At 5:22, it wasn’t very crowded, and Drew had no trouble finding a parking place.  He leaned out and pushed a button.

“Welcome to Don’s!  What can we get for you?”

“Hi, I’d like the number 3 please,” said Drew.  “With mushrooms.”

“With mushrooms?” said the voice.  “Coming right up.”

“Now, we wait,” said Drew.  He looked around.  “Nice view of the water, isn’t it?”

“Look at all the boats,” said Carol.  “Must be a nice day to go sailing.”

“And all the signs,” said Edward.  “You can tell this is a tourist area.”

“Where are we going to eat?” asked Renee.

“We can go to that McDonald’s across the street after this,” said Drew.  “My guess is they only give out one number three a night.  We—oh, hello.”

Already, a drive-in waitress had roller-skated up. She handed Drew an envelope and skated away without waiting for any money.

“Why, what’s—oh!”  Written on the envelope, in big letters, was “Number three—with mushrooms.”

Drew rolled up the window.  “Come on; let’s go,” he said.  “I’ll drive through McDonald’s.  Then, you can give the contents a look, Carol, while we go back to the house.”

There was a long drive-through line at the Golden Arches, and fifteen minutes passed before the four were finally on their way.  Carol, wearing gloves (the thin kind that are easy to grab stuff with), gently opened the envelope.

“What’s in it?” asked Edward from the backseat.

“It’s—a movie ticket.”

“A movie ticket?” asked Drew.  “Which movie?”

“Day of the Dinosaurs 3,” said Carol.  “It’s for tomorrow night at 7.”

“Anything else?”

Carol turned the envelope upside down, held it up to the light, and scrutinized it carefully.  “Just the ticket,” she said.

“Interesting,” said Drew.  “Guess I know what I’m doing tomorrow.”

His siblings might have been disappointed, only none of the Lawrences were big dinosaur movie buffs.  Anyway, they had more important things to worry about.  Such as—

“We’re being followed,” said Edward.

“Oh-oh,” said Drew.  “Who?”

“A green Cadillac,” said Edward.  “I first noticed it in the McDonald’s parking lot when we picked up our food.  It’s been following us ever since.”

“I see,” said Drew.  “This movie ticket probably wasn’t meant for us, then.  Hang on, everybody!” he said, stepping on the gas pedal.  Though it was only a 45-mph zone, the Maserati jumped up to 80.

So did the Cadillac.  “We’re not losing them,” said Carol, glancing back.

“Faster, then,” said Drew, boosting the speedometer to ninety.

“I hope we don’t get pulled over,” said Carol.

“They’re still coming,” said Renee, “but we’re pulling away a bit.”

“Good,” said Drew, as they rounded a curve.  “See that turnoff up ahead?”

“Which one?” said Carol.

“This one!” said Drew.  The tires shrieked as Drew made one of the sharpest turns of his life.  The car swerved a bit and sped onto a small gravel road.  Drew went a few feet before hitting the brakes.

Behind them, the Cadillac headed straight past.

“We’ll give them a few minutes; then we’ll keep going,” said Drew.  “You know, I’m really starting to look forward to this movie.”

Chapter 7: Mother Love

Mrs. Hallett was in her room, silently admiring the ocean.  Not for long.  The door burst open, and Carol ran in.

“Mom, can I talk to you about something?” she asked.  Something in her tone implied this was going to be a very personal matter.  Mrs. Hallett was used to dealing with personal matters; she’d done that with her children for years.  This wasn’t her child, though.  It felt very weird to her, but she remembered her role.  She responded:

“Yes, Carol?”

Carol walked over to her mother and handed her a note.  “It’s about school,” she said.  “Do you think I should trim my bangs or not?”

Mrs. Hallett didn’t answer; she was too busy reading the note.  I have to search the room.  Please pretend you’re carrying on a normal conversation with me, in case someone’s listening.

“Mom?”

Mrs. Hallett looked over at her daughter.  Carol was giving her a pleading look, and it wasn’t about bangs, either.

“I heard you,” said Mrs. Hallett.  “It’s just—well, it reminded me of something that happened to me when I was your age.”

“What?” asked Carol, peeking behind the paintings on the wall.

“There was a girl at my school named Molly MacPherson,” said Mrs. Hallett.  “She was the popular girl there.  It was a small school, and we all knew each other really well.  Most of the girls wanted to be like Molly.  When she cut her hair short—just above the shoulders, in those days—they did too.  When she started wearing jeans with a hole, they all trimmed one in theirs.  When lots of lipstick came into style, the guys did whatever they could to avoid being kissed.”

Carol, now spraying something on the window, laughed.  “What happened then?”

“Well, I wanted to do the same things they were doing, but my mom—”

“Grandma?”

“Yes…Grandma,” Mrs. Hallett felt so odd as she said the word.  “Grandma told me that Molly could start whatever fad she wanted, but that what’s on the inside was the most important.  So, my hair stayed long.  My jeans stayed in good shape—until I’d had them for a while, of course.  I avoided the lipstick.  And then, you know what happened?”

“What?” asked Carol, diving under the bed.

Mrs. Hallett stared at the two feet sticking out.  “When Molly got suspended for cheating, she wasn’t so popular anymore.  I never became the popular girl, but I didn’t see all my friends turn on me overnight, either.  It took me two years to realize this, and I only wish I’d learned it sooner.”

“Ah-ha!” came from under the bed, softly.  Carol peeked out.  “More!” she whispered.

“Well, uh, it was a valuable lesson to me,” said Mrs. Hallett.  “Perhaps more valuable than anything I ever learned in math class, history class, science class, English class, gym class—”

Carol came out from under the bed, zipping up her purse.  “Thanks,” she said.  “Thank you very much!  I love you, Mom!” she shouted, rushing across the room.

Mrs. Hallett couldn’t decide whether to bolt or duck.  Before she did either, Carol reached her, flung her arms around her, and pretended to kiss her.  “I’m going to tell that Jenny Marks exactly what you said,” she said.  “See you later!”

“Huh?  Oh, OK!” said Mrs. Hallett.  “Bye!”

I guess she found what she was looking for, Mrs. Hallett thought to herself.  Then, she chuckled.

I wish my kids had listened like that!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Carol darted back into the room she shared with Renee and slammed the door.  Locking it, she rushed over to the window and shut the blinds.  Then, she plummeted down onto the bed and opened her purse.  She reached in and pulled out—

A menu.

Carol hadn’t been able to see the thing too well under the bed, but she had seen one thing.  “Don’s Drive-In—Serving Southern California since 1954.”  Now that she was alone, she examined the flyer more closely.

There was nothing unusual about it, except two things.  First, the #3 was circled.  It was “Don’s Famous Chickenburger—topped with lettuce, tomato, and onions.  Mustard, ketchup, mushrooms, and bacon available on request.”  Mushrooms was the second thing out of the ordinary: it was underlined.

Carol carefully placed the menu back in her purse.  She wandered over to the radio and put some music on.  Then, she slipped into the restroom and put on the shower.  She did not get in it, however.  Instead, she snuck into the closet, reached into her makeup bag, and pulled out a compact.

It wasn’t a compact.  It was a small computer.  Carol placed the second and third fingers of her right hand on a keypad, and the screen lit up.

“Carol Lawrence—Agent 3145-778.”  Carol entered a twenty-seven digit password.  Then, she clicked something and started typing.

“Don’s Drive-In—Malibu, CA.”

Nothing happened on Carol’s end for twenty seconds.  Then, the screen flashed.

“No Data.”

“Hmm,” said Carol to herself.  She went to the report section and typed, “1000 hours.  Found a menu for Don’s Drive-In hidden under Pearson’s bed.  The number three was circled and mushrooms was underlined.  Sending a photo.”

Carol pulled out the menu and waved her “compact” over it.  Then, she hit send.  Washington (D.C.) now had the data.

Yawning, Carol was about to flip her compact shut when she remembered something.  “Graz Conference” she typed.

Five seconds elapsed.  Then, something appeared on the screen.  Carol’s eyes grew big as saucers as she began to read.