Sitting at the kitchen table, I began firing questions at Bev.
What time does he usually return home?
I checked my watch.
Noah had been missing for at least an hour. We had better work fast.
He talks a lot about the garden.
“Any specifics you can remember?” I opened by notebook, eager to write down any pertinent information. Mrs. Johnson…seven watermelons total…Mr. Brown.
“Mr. Brown? Who’s Mr. Brown?” I asked.
“An older gentleman who tends a tomato patch across from Noah’s.”
“Oh, I almost forgot, the journal. The journal logs everything Noah knew about the watermelon patch. There are even drawings.” Said Bev as she handed me the journal.
“This one’s pretty interesting.” I said as I thumbed through the journal. I stopped and studied the most recent drawing of the watermelon patch. “Can I have a copy of this?”
“Thanks.” I said grabbing the copy. “I better get back to the scene.”
As soon as I arrived at the scene I looked around for Mr. Brown. He was nowhere in sight.
Sooo, it was Mr. Brown. My mind started jumping to conclusions. He’s the reason my friend is missing. Ah ha hah. There is no stumping Alexandro Martinez, CSI. Now the biggest questions I needed answered were where? and how?
“Mrs. Johnson could I ask you a few more questions, specifically about ‘Mr. Br-?”
Before the question left my lips, she started.
“Oh, that poor man, he had back surgery a couple of weeks ago. Out of the garden for at least six weeks, maybe longer. The garden was the highlight of his day.”
“Yes, but have you actually seen him.” I asked suspicious.
“I took him a casserole yesterday, he is in so much pain.”
I stared at the ground dejected. My only lead—destroyed. Slowly I walked away, back to the scene of the crime. As I ducked under the crime scene tape, I sank down in the dirt at the corner of the watermelon patch.
I checked my watch 11:12 a.m. Noah had now been missing for 2 hours and 27 minutes. My hands dropped in my lap.
I heard something crinkle in my pocket.