Cora Flash and the Treasure of Beggar's Bluff Read online

  Cora Flash and the Treasure of Beggar's Bluff

  By Tommy Davey

  Copyright © 2012 by Thomas Brown

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  CHAPTER ONE 3

  CHAPTER TWO 8

  CHAPTER THREE 11

  CHAPTER FOUR 15

  CHAPTER FIVE 19

  CHAPTER SIX 22

  CHAPTER SEVEN 25

  CHAPTER EIGHT 28

  CHAPTER NINE 30

  CHAPTER TEN 33

  CHAPTER ELEVEN 36

  CHAPTER TWELVE 41

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN 44

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN 49

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN 53

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN 57

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN 60

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN 63

  CHAPTER NINETEEN 66

  CHAPTER TWENTY 68

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE 71

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO 74

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE 78

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR 82

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE 84

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX 87

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN 90

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT 93

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE 96

  ONE MORE THING 100

  CHAPTER ONE

  I usually counted on the first day back at school being fairly exciting, but how could it compare to the thrills I'd experienced over the summer? I couldn't wait to see my friends so I could tell them all about the two mysteries I'd encountered in my summer off. I doubted very much that anyone else in my class would have a "What I did on my summer vacation" story that would top mine.

  As I arrived in the yard of the school, I stopped to scan the kids standing around in groups talking about their summers. I recognized most of the kids, but there were definitely a few new faces, but mostly in the lower grades.

  "Hi Cora," said a familiar voice.

  I turned around to see Shelby Lane, who'd been my best friend since I was four.

  "I'm so excited for this year, aren't you? I can't wait to get back into the swing of things, this year is going to be amazing!"

  Shelby Lane stood slightly shorter than me but made up for the difference with her energetic personality and her frantic curly blonde hair. She talked so fast my mom would sometimes describe her as "headache-inducing."

  "Hi Shelby. I don't know if I am as excited as you, but I guess I am a little excited."

  I could not help but think the school year would pale drastically in comparison to my summer.

  "Well, I am tremendously excited. Your email said you were going to tell me what happened to you this summer, but you wanted to wait until we saw each other in person. We're in person now, so tell me."

  As close as Shelby and I were, I'd decided not to say anything to anyone about my mystery-filled adventures until I got back to school.

  "Um... I got a dog."

  Shelby's chin dropped and she looked at me from underneath a raised eyebrow. "A dog? That's it? You said you had something exciting to tell me, you sounded like it was going to be the best story I have ever heard."

  "It is exciting," I countered.

  "I'm sure you're thrilled, but getting a dog is not as thrilling to others as you might think."

  "I guess not," I said, allowing her to win the argument.

  "I heard we have a new teacher," said Shelby. "His name is Mr. Levine and he is new in town, no one knows much about him. I heard that he was in prison."

  "What?" I exclaimed. "Prison? There is no way he would have been in prison. They don't let ex-convicts teach school. That's the stupidest thing I have ever heard. Who told you that?"

  "My mother," replied Shelby. "She heard from the school Superintendent, and you know that they are like that." She attempted to twist her index and middle fingers together in a sign of closeness. Unfortunately, she wasn't quite flexible enough, and she had to use her left hand to help her little fingers along.

  "I think your mother is mistaken. She must have misunderstood," I said.

  "Believe whatever you want, Cora Flash," said Shelby, "but I believe our teacher was in prison."

  "Well, you're partially right," a voice boomed from behind us.

  We turned around to see a man we did not recognize, looming down under a thick carpet of fuzzy black hair. We knew instantly it was our new teacher, the potential ex-convict.

  "It's true, I was in prison – for a while," said Mr. Levine.

  "You were?" asked a trembling Shelby.

  "Yes," he laughed, "but it's not what you think. I was a teacher in the federal prison outside of town. I taught prisoners math and science for almost ten years."

  "That sounds exciting," I said. "It must have been very interesting."

  "Oh," he replied. "It was, but I decided it was time for a change, so I came back to teaching school."

  I turned to Shelby and said, "I guess your mother misunderstood."

  Shelby looked a little disappointed and more than a little embarrassed. "I guess so."

  Knowing Shelby, she would probably give her mother a piece of her mind for letting her make such a fool of herself. She was very close to her mother, but they seemed to do an awful lot of their talking by yelling at each other.

  "I'm Cora," I said to Mr. Levine, "Cora Flash. And this is Shelby Lane. I think we're both in your class this year."

  "It's nice to meet you both, I'm sure we'll get to know each other very well over the school year. If you'll excuse me, I'm going to talk to a few more of the kids."

  He walked away and joined a small circle of boys who were taking turns showing off their new sneakers.

  "He seems nice," I said.

  "Yeah," Shelby replied. "I guess so."

  I could tell from the tone in her voice she was disappointed that our new teacher did not have a prison record, although I suspected her mother would be very relieved.

  Just as I was about to ask Shelby about her summer, the outside bell rang.

  "Let's line up," she said. "I want to be first."

  She ran to the set of double doors that were saved for the upper grades and stood first in line. I stood behind her and watched the other kids from grade five fall in line behind us. Many of them said hello as they passed by; a few even stopped for hugs.

  "Excuse me!" yelled Shelby. "Get to the back of the line!"

  Jimmy Carson, our class clown, had the nerve to stand right in front of Shelby, taking her spot as first in line.

  "I was here first," he said.

  "You were not, Jimmy Carson!" yelled Shelby. "Now get to the back of the line!"

  He turned around and smiled his sweet-as-syrup smile as he brushed the bangs out of his eyes.

  "Shelby," he said, with his typical smirk, "don't you want me to be beside you? I thought we had something special."

  I started laughing, not because Jimmy was particularly funny, but because I knew how upset his words would make Shelby.

  "You're so immature!" she exclaimed. "Get out of here!"

  She pushed him out of the line, causing him to lose his balance and fall right into Mr. Levine.

  "Is there a problem here?" The teacher asked as he helped Jimmy upright.

  "Yes," answered Shelby. "And his name is Jimmy Carson."

  "I think everything is fine now," I said. "All sorted out."r />
  "Good," said Mr. Levine, "then let's get going."

  He looked at Jimmy and with a firm hand began to push him down the line. "To the end with you, young man."

  Shelby smirked. She got to be first in line, keeping her perfect record for every first day of school.

  CHAPTER TWO

  "I am Mr. Levine," announced our new teacher from the front of the classroom. "I would appreciate your patience as I learn each of your names. Let's start by filling out one of these cards and standing it at the front of your desk."

  Mr. Levine proceeded to walk around the classroom, passing out small tent cards for each of us to write our names.

  "I hope he's nice," said Shelby from one seat behind me. "Not like that Mr. Giordano last year. He was mean."

  "He wasn't mean," I countered. "He just didn't like people talking in his class, and you talk all the time."

  Shelby sat back in her seat and wrote her name in a bright pink marker she had pulled out of her pencil case.

  "This year," he began, "we are going to introduce you to the concept of the research project. You haven't done one in your last grade, so this will be a new thing for all of you."

  Although I did not exactly understand what a research project entailed, it sounded right up my alley.

  "What do we have to do?" asked Alex Bass from the back of the room.

  "Please put up your hand first," said Mr. Levine.

  Alex slowly raised his hand and waited.

  "Yes?"

  "What do we have to do?"

  "For this project," explained the teacher, "you will each have a topic that you will need to research. Some of you will research on the Internet, some of you at the library. And others may decide to interview people for their assignment."

  "This sounds like a lot of work," grumbled Shelby.

  "I have written down topics on little pieces of paper and put them into this box. You will each draw one and have two weeks to research and present your findings to the class."

  "Wait a minute," whispered Shelby. "We're getting homework? On the first day?"

  Mr. Levine began to walk around the room, letting each of the students pull their assignment out of a shoebox.

  When he got to me, I made sure to shuffle the pieces around. I let my fingers roll over the pieces of paper, feeling them pass under and between my fingers. Finally, I stopped on a piece that somehow felt better than the rest. I grabbed it and opened it.

  "What did you get?" asked Shelby.

  "Pick yours before I say," I replied.

  She reached into the box and pulled out the first paper her fingers touched. She could not wait for me to open my paper, so she opened hers and read out the assignment: "Native edible plant species. What does that mean?"

  "You have to research plants that are found in this area that we can eat," I said.

  "Who eats plants?"

  "We all do, like fruit and vegetables. They're considered part of the plant family."

  "Vegetables?" she cried. "I have to do a project on vegetables? Oh brother."

  Clearly Shelby was not impressed with her assignment. "What did you get? Dirt?"

  I opened my piece of paper and read the contents. "The local shipping trade." I was not exactly sure what to make of it, but just as I was about to put my hand up to ask Mr. Levine, he appeared out of nowhere.

  "This area used to be a very active shipping port, the river was very busy up until the railroad was built. Many ships passed through this area, and it's your job to find out where they were going, or where they came from."

  "Oh," I said. That sounded more interesting than vegetables.

  "Wow," said Shelby, after Mr. Levine had moved on. "This guy sure knows how to bore a bunch of kids."

  Despite what Shelby thought, I couldn't wait to get started on my assignment.

  CHAPTER THREE

  "Cora," said my Mom, "this new job I have means I am going to need you to help out at home a bit more."

  We were sitting at the dinner table talking about my mother's new job. She had just started working as an insurance claims inspector after working in insurance sales for many years. It was higher pay, but would mean more time away from me and my two-year-old brother Ethan.

  "I already help out," I said. "I do lots."

  "I know you do, sweetie," she said to me, "but there are going to be some evenings and weekends where I need you to watch over Ethan if I have to investigate an accident or claim scene. And until your father gets back from the road, you are my number two."

  My father traveled a lot, mostly to other states, selling broadband Internet service to businesses. He always said the life of the salesman was nothing but airport lounges and lousy hotels. My mother's new job, however, sounded terribly exciting, even a little bit dangerous. She was the person who would be responsible for looking into people's insurance claims to make sure they were telling the truth. If she determined the claims were valid, she would approve their request and pay the insurance amount. For some of the claims, there were hundreds of thousands of dollars at stake. She was almost like a detective, which thrilled me to bits.

  "I understand," I said. "I can take care of Ethan, don't worry."

  Almost as if he'd been waiting for the chance, Ethan took a handful of his dinner and threw it across the room. Mashed potatoes and green peas were suddenly all over the kitchen floor.

  "Ethan!" my mom yelled. "Stop that!"

  Ethan found humor in his actions and began to laugh hysterically.

  "I'll get it," I said, reaching for the paper towels to begin the cleanup operation.

  "Thank you, Cora," she said.

  I started to wipe up the mess, but it felt more like I was just pushing it around the floor into a big blobby pile. "Eww, gross," I said out loud.

  Calvin, my Norfolk Terrier, sprang into action at the opportunity for more food, gobbling up as many of the mashed potatoes and peas as he could manage.

  "Calvin, stop it," I said, trying to push him out of the way. He forcefully fought back, pushing his snout into the mashed potatoes, licking furiously the whole time.

  After I had the mess cleaned up, I sat back down and started to tell my mother about the assignment we'd received from Mr. Levine.

  "Homework on your first day?"

  "You sound like Shelby," I laughed. "It's just a research project. I have to learn about the shipping trade from this area. I'll need to go to the library after dinner, I'm going to meet Shelby there."

  "Okay," Mom replied. "I'll take you after dinner. Can you ask Shelby's dad to drive you home? I'll be putting Ethan to bed."

  I didn't think Shelby's dad would mind driving me home; he often drove me home when Shelby and I went to the movies.

  "Do you have your first case yet?" I asked my mom.

  "I do, but I'm not supposed to talk about it."

  "Oh come on!" I cried. "Who am I going to tell?"

  "I know," she said with a giggle. "I'll tell you, but you can't repeat this to anyone you know. You never know if one of the people involved is related to someone at school."

  "I promise!"

  "Well," she began, "the number seventeen bus was driving up Water Street a few weeks ago and a car cut off the bus quite suddenly. The driver of the bus stopped and avoided hitting the car, but many of the passengers were hurt."

  "That's terrible," I said.

  "It is. And there are many claims from the passengers, eight in all, who have medical expenses that they would like to have covered."

  "It sounds scary," I said. "Was anyone seriously hurt?"

  "Thankfully, no. The injuries are mostly whiplash and a few broken bones, but nothing very serious."

  I was intrigued by my Mom's first case on the job. "So what do you have to do?"

  "Well, I'm going to start by interviewing each of the passengers on the bus, as well as the driver of the bus."

  "What about the driver of the car who cut them off?"

  "Unfortunately, that person left the scene
, so I won't be able to get any information from them. But remember, I'm not the police. I'm not trying to find out who caused the accident. I just need to find out if the passengers have a legitimate claim to medical compensation."

  "Compensation?" I asked.

  "Payment," Mom explained. "Money, basically. I have to determine if the insurance company will cover their medical expenses. Okay, let's get going."

  My mom scooped Ethan up from his highchair and grabbed her purse from the kitchen island. "I'll clean up after I get home," she said. "Do you have your library card?"

  I arched my eyebrow, clearly indicating that her question was preposterous. "I always have my library card with me," I said as we walked out the front door.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  The town library, one of the oldest on the east coast, was one of the many libraries built with money from millionaire Andrew Carnegie in the early 1930s. I had spent many days in the library, spread out on the floor reading mystery after mystery. Sometimes the librarian, Mr. Burton, would have to tell me to leave as I had stayed well past closing time.

  Shelby had agreed to meet me at the library, but she'd sent me a text to say she was running behind because her mom was caught up watching Jeopardy, yelling answers at the screen and refusing to leave until the program ended.

  I decided to take advantage of the extra time and see if there were any new mysteries to check out. The library collection was not vast, but they managed to add enough new titles each month to keep me happy. A shelf near the front always had all the new books on display. As usual, three or four sounded appealing to me.

  I picked up, The Mystery of the Golden Leopard. It sounded a bit ridiculous. Who ever heard of a golden leopard?

  "It's a statue," said a voice behind me.

  I turned around to see the librarian, Mr. Burton, standing nearby.

  "The book," he continued. "It's about a golden statue shaped like a leopard that goes missing."

  "Oh," I said. "That sounds intriguing."

  "I don't think you'll like it," he added. "It's not very well-plotted. You know right from the beginning who the culprit is."

  Mr. Burton was right. I would not like that book at all. One of my biggest pet peeves was to know the end of the book almost from the beginning. I replaced the book and continued browsing.