McKenzie’s Branson Brainteaser (13 page)

After signing off, McKenzie called Shara. Sydney stepped into the office.

“Guess what? Miss Val doesn't need me for a while. She said I can go help the baker or the candle maker, so guess what I chose!” Sydney's dark eyes flashed as she bounced on her tiptoes. Before McKenzie could answer, Sydney announced, “The candle maker! Now maybe I can find out something about the mystery lady.”

“Great!” McKenzie exclaimed. “Shara is on her way to meet me at the photography shop. Hopefully, we'll both have more information when we see each other tonight.”

The girls told Miss Val good-bye and went their separate ways. By the time McKenzie reached the photography store, Shara was weaving her way through the crowd.

“I've got to show you this picture we found.” McKenzie clutched her older friend's arm and led her to the counter. She quickly fumbled through the photo album and found the picture she was looking for. “Look. Is there any chance this could be your uncle?”

Shara peered closely at the bushy-bearded man, and her eyes lit up as she turned to McKenzie. “The last picture I saw of him was taken years ago, but this does look like him. He looks so much like my mom, even though they're not identical twins, just fraternal twins.”

McKenzie felt her jaw drop. “Your mom and Reggie are twins?”

“Yes,” Shara answered with surprise. “Didn't I tell you that?”

“No, but that explains the twin carvings we've found, but I'll tell you about that later,” McKenzie said.

Shara spoke to the woman rearranging the old-fashioned clothing on the racks. “Do you know the names of the people in this picture or when it was taken?”

The woman shook her head as she glanced at the picture. “No, we don't keep track of the names. We just put a few pictures out for advertising, but I'd say it was probably taken within the last three or four months.”

Shara thanked the woman and turned back to McKenzie. “Well, at least we know Uncle Reggie is in town. I want to find him so badly, but it bothers me that he doesn't want to find us.”

“I wish he knew your family has forgiven him for leaving. Then maybe he would want to keep in touch,” McKenzie said, trying to sound hopeful.

Shara nodded and stepped out of the shop. “But he needs to forgive them, too. I'm starting to think we're never going to find him.”

“We can't give up yet. Sydney and I found a man who has twin fairy carvings of your Uncle Reggie's.” McKenzie told Shara all about the house by the lake as they walked through the crowd to the parking lot. “He just has to be somewhere around Branson. We'll find him.”

The girls rode in silence the rest of the way to the Showcase. After Shara had parked, she headed to the stables while McKenzie walked toward the back entrance and the dressing room. Her cell phone rang.

“Hi, Sydney,” she said as her friend's name flashed across the screen. “What's up?”

“Boy, am I ever glad I went to work at the candle shop! I found out all sorts of stuff. I know who wrote that note and stuck it in our mailbox. It's Tessa Richardson, that woman who works in the shop. I saw her write her name—she dots each
i
with a little circle!”

For a few seconds, McKenzie couldn't speak.

“So, she really did write the note,” she finally answered.

Sydney continued, “I also noticed she was wearing an engagement ring. I asked the woman I was working with who Tessa Richardson is marrying. She said his name is Dwight Cramer. I thought for sure it would be Reggie Ford. Isn't that weird?”

McKenzie's mind raced. She didn't know what to think.
Something isn't right with this story
, she thought.
Why is Tessa Richardson so concerned about Mr. Ford if she's engaged to someone else?

Before McKenzie could answer, Sydney continued, “I can't talk anymore. I took a quick break so I could call you. I have to go dip candles. Talk to you tonight.”

McKenzie's thoughts whirled. There had to be a logical explanation. But what? She sent a text message to Kate, telling her the latest developments and asking her to inform the other Camp Club Girls. Maybe between all of them, they could figure this out.

While McKenzie changed clothes, she thought about the phone call.
We found the old-time photograph of Tessa Richardson with a man Shara thinks is her Uncle Reggie. Why is Miss Richardson wearing a bracelet Mr. Ford made if she's engaged to Dwight Cramer?
McKenzie thought with frustration.

One of the girls in the performance began talking to McKenzie. She only half listened to the girl's chatter.

While Mrs. Kelly did her hair and makeup, McKenzie said little. She was thankful that one of the women in the show had come over to chitchat with the hair stylist. McKenzie felt too confused to carry on a conversation with anyone.

The minute Mrs. Kelly had finished, McKenzie flew down the hallway, her button-up shoes clicking on the floor.

She found her trainer waiting with Azur. More than ever, she knew she would have to concentrate on her performance today, and that could be tough. Her mind was filled with thoughts of solving the missing persons case.

She swung herself onto the saddle. Gripping the reins, she focused on the act, sitting straight and tall on Azur's back. She darted through the open doors into the arena. The pounding of the horses' hooves thumped in perfect rhythm. She barely noticed the other girls on their horses as they rode in unison.

McKenzie raced around the arena, the skirt of her plantation gown flowing behind her. She felt her heavily gelled ringlets bouncing against her back. Azur performed flawlessly.

When the performance ended, McKenzie rode her horse out of the arena. The applause and cheers rang in her ears. After handing Azur over to her trainer, she lifted her skirts and ran toward the stables.

She spotted Shara at the far end pitching fresh hay into a stall.

“Shara,” McKenzie cried, racing down the aisle. “Does the name Dwight Cramer mean anything to you?”

Shara leaned on her pitchfork and thought for a minute. “My grandma's last name was Cramer before she married Grandpa. I think my Uncle Reggie's middle name is Dwight. Why do you ask?”

A thought flashed through McKenzie's mind. She had been looking for a man named Reggie Ford. She had seen samples of his woodcrafting all around the Branson area. Yet no one they talked to had heard of his name. Could they possibly be looking for the wrong man? Maybe Reggie Ford had changed his name to Dwight Cramer?

The more McKenzie thought about it, the more likely it seemed.
Should I tell Shara my suspicions? No, I'd better wait until I'm sure. I don't want to disappoint her
.

“I need to find this guy named Dwight Cramer. I'll call you if I find out anything.”

“I sure hope you can find Uncle Reggie.” Shara tossed another forkful of straw into the stall. “My mom called and said the whole family has decided to come down and ask Uncle Reggie to forgive them if we find out where he is. They feel really bad about how they've treated him all these years.”

“Oh, Shara. That's great news!” McKenzie exclaimed.

“But we have to find him first. It looks like he's trying very hard to stay away from everyone. Finding him is next to impossible,” Shara said dismally.

McKenzie wanted to cheer up Shara, but she didn't know what else to say. What Shara said was true. Mr. Ford was intentionally hiding from his family.
I can't wait to talk to Sydney
, McKenzie thought, her mind fluttering.

She hurried to the dressing room and changed. Later, while Miss Val drove them home, McKenzie told Sydney about her suspicions. “I think Reggie Ford changed his name to Dwight Cramer.”

Sydney looked wide-eyed at her friend. “Hey, that makes sense. That would explain why no one has heard of him. We can check the phone book when we get home,” Sydney said. “If it's not listed, we can Google him.”

While Miss Val drove, the girls sent text messages to the Camp Club Girls. They asked their friends to join them in the chat room in ten minutes. The moment the girls got home, they hurried to the computer and logged in. The other four girls were already chatting.

McKenzie quickly told them about Tessa Richardson and her engagement to a man named Dwight Cramer.

McKenzie agreed. If everybody worked on something different, they could get a lot more work done. All the Camp Club Girls promised to let the others know immediately if they found another clue.

McKenzie and Sydney poured themselves glasses of lemonade and carried them into the living room. Mr. Pibb stared at them from his perch on top of the entertainment center. He blinked his yellow eyes and swished his tail as though waiting to pounce.

“Why don't we write another letter to Dwight Cramer and ask Miss Richardson to give it to him?” Sydney settled onto the couch and propped her feet on the coffee table. “We could ask him if he's actually Reggie Ford.”

McKenzie nodded, tucking her legs beneath her. “We could do that. I didn't have room to write much on the postcard I sent him. We could explain the situation better if we wrote a letter. We could even tell him that his family has forgiven him.”

“That's a good idea, but what if Dwight says he's not Mr. Ford? Then what?” Sydney drummed her metallic blue–painted fingernails on the arm of the couch. “Should we come right out and ask him if he's Mr. Ford?”

“Let's just pray that Dwight is Mr. Ford. We don't know for sure that he is. But now that I've thought about it, I don't think we should ask him. Let's give him a chance to come to us. Hopefully he'll contact Shara or us after reading the letter.” McKenzie carried her glass into the kitchen and placed it in the dishwasher.

She grabbed a tablet and pen from a drawer. “Let's go to our room.” Once upstairs, she sat cross-legged on the bed with the tablet on her knee.

“Dear Mr. Cramer,” she said as she wrote the words. “We are looking for a man named Reggie Ford. His niece Shara Hayden is a friend of ours. She's in Branson, and she's looking for him. She says his family wants to come down and ask his forgiveness. If you know where Mr. Ford is, would you please call her at 555-3776? She would love to see her uncle again.”

“How does that sound?” McKenzie asked as she signed her name to the letter.

“Sounds good to me.” Sydney took the pen and signed her name below McKenzie's.

“Since neither one of us works tomorrow, we will have plenty of time to give the letter to Miss Richardson. Hopefully, she works tomorrow. Every minute is important.” McKenzie folded the letter and stuck it in an envelope. She printed the name “Dwight Cramer” across the front.

The next morning everyone got up early. McKenzie hadn't slept well the night before. Her mind had been filled with thoughts about Dwight Cramer. Was he Reggie Ford or not?

When the girls finished breakfast, Miss Val drove them to Silver Dollar City. The parking lot was nearly full, and crowds already filed through the ticket lines. The girls went with Miss Val through the employee entrance. While she headed to the basket shop, the girls continued to the candle maker's shop. The aroma of scented wax wafted out. Amazingly, the mixture of pine, citrus, and vanilla smelled good.

At first McKenzie didn't see Miss Richardson. She wasn't running the cash register but instead stood dusting a display of colorful candles.

“This is our lucky day. She's working!” McKenzie pulled the letter from the back pocket of her jean shorts. She took a deep breath and walked down the aisle.