Nolan had been saving his allowance for the better part of a year so he could buy a Nintendo Gamecube. It was super expensive at $200, but his parents had promised to buy him a few games for it if he could pay for the console himself. Something about learning financial responsibility? Unfortunately, he needed some money right now! That Indian gold would buy him all the Gamecubes he wanted, anyway.

Larson was a small town, but it wasn’t one of the small towns that he and his family drove through on road trips somewhere. Being on the outskirts of a larger city meant that people did a bit more than just farming. There were some cool shops out of the way if you knew where to look, including the costume shop on Second Street.

Nolan spent well over an hour in the dimly lit store, looking at stuff he would need. He finally picked out a wig, fake glasses, and some colored contacts he really liked. Also a basic makeup kit just to be safe. After thirty minutes of rehearsing his fake story to tell the cashier, she rang him up without asking a single question about his intentions or even why he was sweating like a dog. Nolan clutched the bag of supplies tightly to his chest and walked home as quickly as he could without drawing attention to himself. Only once he was inside could he breathe freely again.

It took another trip to the garage and an awful lot of sneezing to find the box of his sister’s old clothes. She was away at college, but since his parents never threw anything away, her forgotten things were his for the taking. Deep in the bottom of the box was an old church dress and a pair of dress shoes. Exactly what Nolan needed for his disguise!

The clothes fit him well enough, but Nolan poked himself in the eye a few times trying to get the contacts in. The makeup kit fortunately came with a little tutorial. When he was ready, Nolan put on the blond bob wig and fake glasses before stepping in front of the full-length mirror in his parents’ room.

He… definitely looked like a pre-teen girl. Enough that anybody who didn’t know him would be fooled, at least. It made his insides squirm; the fear of what would happen if he got caught looking like this. They’d send him to an asylum for the rest of his life! This was weird. This was so weird! Why did he think that this would work?

Nolan had to sit down on the bench chest and take deep breaths, clenching his hands in his lap. This would work. It would work. He’d read enough detective stories, about girls and famous men, to know how to act like one. All it took was confidence. He imagined himself going around town, interrogating suspects and sneaking into hidden passages–

This wasn’t going to work. The dress. The dress wasn’t going to work. Nobody dressed this nice just to walk around and investigate things. There was no way to blend in while dressed like this. When was the last time he’d seen a girl wearing a dress at all outside of church, let alone one this nice?

He went back to the box. Most of these clothes were out of style and would stand out just as much. Finally, though, he pulled out a pair of loose-fitting jeans and a zig-zag tee shirt. The training bra was difficult to get the hang of, but he did. Nolan could wear his regular socks with his sister’s dirty sneakers, and a worn windbreaker completed the look. An ugly purse would hold his notebook. Returning to the mirror, he was able to smile at his reflection this time. Now he looked like a girl detective.

But Nolan would need a name if he was going undercover. Every good undercover alias had a really smart name. Nolan wasn’t smart, so he decided on Ronnie Black. Ronnie was the name of his favorite character in Dragontamers of Elysium, and Black was the opposite of his regular surname just like Ronnie Black was the opposite of himself. She was a girl, but she was also assertive and determined!

With his parents out, Nolan was free to march around and get into character.

“You there! Tell me where you were on the night of the fifteenth! A likely story! But I know for a fact that you were buying a hot dog downtown at that exact time, which puts you right next to the scene of the crime!”

Ronnie Black needed the can-do attitude and zest for life that all girl detectives had. Nobody would believe she was real without it! It felt like a performance, but it was a performance that made Nolan feel good. Finally, he opened the front door and walked outside into the fresh summer air, taking a deep breath as Ronnie Black.

Now, how was she actually supposed to solve a real-life mystery?

People were out and about all over the town in the summer, making the walk to the library a real trial by fire. Ronnie kept her head down in hopes that people wouldn’t notice her. Nobody seemed to. She was already sweating; maybe people thought it was the heat? The long walk up the hill to the library only made it worse.

Nobody looked at her funny, but Ronnie went out of her way to avoid the librarian who had helped her… him… Nolan the last time he was here. Just in case. She made her way to the same computer from before and sat down, pulling her notebook from her purse. Looking up the names and articles from before took just as long this time, but Ronnie wrote down as many as she could find along with whatever up-to-date notes the computer could give her.

She couldn’t remember any of the names mentioned by the TV report, but checking the recent physical copies of the local paper that the library held onto, Ronnie was able to find an article listing some of the more important people who were interviewed. A little star went next to those names in her notebook. Ronnie pumped her fist into the air. She had leads.

“I can put that away for you if you’re done.”

Ronnie nearly fell from her chair in surprise. Standing right behind her was the librarian who always helped Nolan. She gulped and searched for something to say, but while her throat didn’t close up like it usually did, nothing was coming to mind.

“I… I’m done with this,” she said weakly, pushing the newspaper at her. Hastily, she added, “Thank you.”

“No problem, miss.”

She walked away with the newspaper without another word, no hint of recognition in her face or voice. Ronnie grinned. This disguise was so much better than she’d thought it would be. Nobody would suspect her of really being a boy!

The next few days started to blur together. Nolan would wake up shortly after his parents left for work, get himself a quick breakfast and shower, then search the boxes for a suitable outfit. From there, Ronnie would start hunting people down.

Ernest Williams – local recordkeeper at town hall. Ronnie made up an excuse about a summer project for school, and the old man was kind enough to let her into the records room. The lights looked like they hadn’t been replaced for a century, tall shelves held boxes overflowing with sheets of paper, the whole place smelled like a dust bunny had crawled under a cabinet and died; it was not a glamorous job. The old man sat down at his desk and put on a pair of reading glasses with shaky hands before asking why she was there. Ronnie asked about the gold.

“Larson’s old gold?” he croaked. “It’s been a long time since anyone was interested in that.”

“You were interviewed for a TV report about it recently.”

“I was? Oh, I suppose I was. Long time since anyone was interested in that old rumor. Drove half the town crazy. The only people who made any money off it worked at the paper churning out a new article every day. Selling shovels during the gold rush, I guess.”

“Do you believe in it?”

“Hmm? No, dear. It was just a silly rumor. Folks back then didn’t have a lot to occupy their time. Believed in some strange stuff, too. But not as strange as the stuff people believe nowadays…”

Adam Monroe – landlord for an entire block of Main Street. According to his housekeeper, he had a free lunch every day at one of the little restaurants that rented from him; he always ate on the patio during the summer. Ronnie arrived just in time to see a well-dressed man in his thirties scolding the waitress bringing him his tea. She sat down in the metal chair across from him, and it took him a moment to look up from his paper. Ronnie asked about the gold.

Mister Monroe mumbled under his breath about reporters before replying, “There is no gold. There never was. It was just a stupid rumor. Where are your parents? They should be ashamed to let you wander around and harass strangers.” He started trying to flag the waitress, but she either didn’t or pretended not to notice. “Lousy service.”

“You own this building, right? How could you afford that? Maybe you found the gold and used it to pay for this block?”

“I inherited this land from my father before me, a man who raised me not to bother my seniors. How do you even know who I am?”

“I have my sources.”

“This act isn’t cute, kid.”

“I just want the truth.”

“The truth is that children should leave the past alone. It’s over. Focus on your schoolwork instead of hunting for fairy tales, and you can do what I do someday.”

He stood up and left.

Tyler Gooseman – photographer for the local paper.

“These are the pictures,” Mister Gooseman said, setting the manilla folder down on his desk and opening it up. “Lot of old families in these. I think most of these have moved away. There’s Old Man Wilson, though. Tragic; he lost his wife, then his adult son, and then the state had to sell off all his property when he died. Terrible to lose a legacy like that.”

“You think he had anything to do with the gold?”

“No, I don’t. Not with how much scrutiny his estate was under after his death. Plus, the man would not stop talking, according to my grandma; didn’t know how to keep a secret to begin with.” He adjusted his glasses. “I admire your spirit, kid, but what exactly makes you think the gold is real at all? After all this time, someone would have found it by now.”

Ronnie scanned the black and white photos for clues. “Just a hunch.”

“Well, if it pans out, you should seriously think about becoming a reporter. We can use some motivated young minds with good instincts.”

“Please, sir, I’m a detective.”

Michelle McKinney – local alderwoman who often brought her young children to play in the park. Ronnie was surprised that a middle aged woman like her would have kids so much younger than Ronnie herself. When Missus McKinney was distracted, Ronnie sat down next to her on the bench under the tree.

“Lots of shade,” she mused. “Great if you forget sunscreen.”

“I’m sorry? Can I help you?”

“Larson’s gold.”

The woman flinched; Ronnie struggled not to grin.

“There is no gold in Larson,” she recited, scowling. “You need to grow up already.”

She stood and barked at her kids to follow her, heading swiftly toward the parking lot with only one more glance over her shoulder at Ronnie.

None of the other interviews were quite as interesting. Gerald Crawford – city planner – didn’t have anything particularly meaningful to say, nor did George Fabel – attorney at law. Everybody else was small potatoes by comparison. By the end of the week, Ronnie returned home with a notebook mostly full of dead ends. Only Michelle McKinney knew anything worth following up on.

If she wouldn’t talk to Ronnie, maybe the public records would talk more about her.

QuillRabbit

This is the first real mystery story I've ever sat down to right. I'm really enjoying the process, but anyone who is a fan of mysteries can probably see through all the little flubs I make as I try to figure out this genre. Hopefully, the ride will still be enjoyable for people.

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