Baloo’s Clues
Part 1
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Higher for Hire
July 1937
On a sultry summer afternoon in the coastal city of Cape Suzette, Molly and Wildcat knelt in the shade of the tree behind Higher for Hire. Their attention was focused on a circle scratched into the dirt, and more specifically, on the marbles scattered within that circle.
Six-year-old Molly fanned herself with a leaf and wondered, “How do they get the swirly colors inside the marbles, Wildcat?”
“Little tiny elves with little tiny paintbrushes,” Wildcat replied, polishing his aquamarine cat’s-eye shooter on his overalls.
Molly giggled. Wildcat was the only grown-up that she knew who could pretend as well as she could, and that was why he was so fun to play with.
“Okay, Mollycat, here goes the old grade-school try.” The wiry mechanic, his shooter poised between his thumb and forefinger, squinted as he examined every angle and every possible shot. “Mm-hmm. Mm-hmm. N-n-n-n-n-no. Mm-hmm. Ah-ha!”
With a flick of his thumb, he flipped his trusty taw into the circle where it skipped over all of the other marbles before bumping into Molly’s knee.
She picked it up and handed it to Wildcat, saying skeptically, “I thought you said that we were supposed to knock the other marbles out of the circle.”
“Guess Milton didn’t understand the rules. I better explain it to him again.” But before he could whisper any words of wisdom to his marble, they heard the Sea Duck splash down for a landing.
Their game temporarily forgotten in lieu of Baloo and Kit’s arrival, Wildcat and Molly scrambled to their feet and hurried around Higher for Hire just in time to see Rebecca burst out of the office. From the way the petite brown bearess’s jaw was clenched, her brow was furrowed, and her arms pumped as she stormed down the dock, it was apparent that she was not happy.
“Uh-oh,” Molly murmured. “Looks like Baloo’s in trouble again.”
“Ba-LOO!” Rebecca banged on the cockpit’s door with her fist and frowned up at the window through which she could see her pilot. “Where have you been? You were supposed to have been home several hours ago!”
“Big trouble,” Wildcat added as they walked down the dock.
Baloo flung open the door and disembarked from the yellow Conwing L-16, carrying a crate overflowing with miscellany. “Don’t get your engines in an uproar, boss lady. Kit an’ me just took a little detour to Stu’s Secondhand Store, the treasure hunter’s paradise.”
“You blew your entire paycheck on junk...again?” Rebecca cried, incredulous.
“This ain’t junk,” he said, setting the crate down on the dock. “These are valuable antiques, priceless heirlooms. They’re really old.”
Wryly, Rebecca said, “I can see that.” She picked up a dirty, chipped vase, then set it back down and dusted off her hands.
“Just think, Becky,” Baloo said, flinging the cargo hold door open; “buried in this somewhere is somethin’ worth a lot of moolah. Maybe several somethings.” He regarded the cargo hold, which was stuffed tighter than a Thanksgiving turkey, with an air of satisfaction.
Where Baloo saw treasure, all Rebecca saw was junk - cracked, broken, dusty, worthless old junk. Stuff that belonged in a landfill or an attic, not in an antique store. She sighed in exasperation and disappointment as she watched her flight crew move their new ‘treasures’ from the plane to the dock. “Oh, Baloo, when will you learn that you’ll never get ahead by going to that glorified flea market? You should be saving your money or investing it in worthwhile pursuits.”
Baloo smirked at her around an ugly brass elephant lamp complete with a fringed lampshade. “Like what? More kangaroos and milk?”
“At least we broke even on that deal,” Rebecca retorted, arms crossed. “After buying all this junk, you’re just broke. Treasure hunting is a waste of time and money.”
Baloo put down a rickety-looking bookcase and leaned against it, causing it to creak ominously. A dreamy, far-away look came into his eyes as if he were thinking of past adventures. “Becky, there’s nuthin’ as thrillin’ as treasure hunting, except maybe downing a whole bunch of Louie’s banana burritos.”
Staggering under the weight of a crate, Wildcat said, “I hate burritos. They always try to kick you.”
Kit deposited a box on the dock and shared a smile with Molly, who was excitedly looking through the ‘treasures’.
“Buffets are thrillin’, too,” Baloo continued. “That’s like orderin’ everything on the menu.”
Pointedly, Rebecca said. “And this has what to do with treasure hunting?”
“Oh, yeah. It’s like I was sayin’, it’s kinda like huntin’ for truffles, but without the pig.” He flashed her a smug smirk before stepping into the plane.
“I wouldn’t be too sure about that,” she said with scathing sarcasm.
From within the cargo hold came Baloo’s voice: “Watch who you’re insultin’, Becky.”
“Treasure hunting is a complete waste of time. Only idiots would run all over the world, following a treasure map. You’ll never catch me going on a treasure hunt. No possible way!”
“You’ll hafta eat your words after Kit and me get rich sellin’ this stuff,” Baloo declared, setting a hideous, garishly-painted cuckoo clock down on top of the rickety bookshelf as carefully if it were a million-dollar statue.
“That’s rich,” Rebecca rejoined. The clock’s hands moved counterclockwise and when it struck two, it sounded more like a squealing possum than a cuckoo. “As soon as you’re through unloading your treasure, you can load tomorrow’s cargo.” She turned on her heel, scoffing, “Treasure hunting.”
Cunninghams’ Apartment
That Night
The living room was quiet save for the muffled, soothing ‘whoosh’ of the waterfall rushing past the window outside. Rebecca lounged on the couch, enjoying one of those rare moments when she could relax with a book. Nearby, Molly sat amid a sea of crayons on the blue parlor sofa, coloring.
Rebecca glanced up from A Million Ways to Make a Million Dollars just as Molly was in the process of carefully choosing the next crayon needed to complete her masterpiece. “What are you coloring, Pumpkin?”
“A book Baloo gave me.”
“Baloo gave you a book?” Rebecca found herself smiling, but wasn’t sure why. “That was nice.”
“Yup,” Molly said as she meticulously filled in a space with green. “He found it in the treasures he bought today.”
“Treasure,” Rebecca said under her breath, rolling her eyes.
“See!” Molly jumped off the sofa, causing crayons to spill onto the floor. She then hopped on the couch beside her mother. “It’s got all sorts of neat pictures and in each picture, there’s a hidden letter.”
“What are the letters?”
The little girl turned from page to page, pointing to where she had circled the letters with a red crayon. “W-J-L-E-E. Whatever that means.”
Rebecca took the book from Molly and flipped through it. “Why, this is someone’s sketchbook. There are pictures from all over the world, from Lhasa Apso, Cape Suzette, Tundra City, Mondobobo, and Malaria.”
“This person was a good draw-er, huh?”
“Yes, they were, sweetie. Look at all the details.” Rebecca’s eyes lingered on the drawing titled “Cape Park, Cape Suzette” where everything - the fountain in the middle of the park, the playground equipment, and the stone shelter house - was perfectly positioned and proportioned. Only the trees looked smaller than what she knew them to be.
“Since it was found in Baloo’s treasures do you think that it could be a treasure map?” Molly asked, her eyes shining brightly.
“Molly!” Rebecca gasped, looking down at her daughter. “You’re been spending too much time listening to Baloo’s outlandish stories.”
With mounting excitement, the little girl continued, “But what if the letters were some kind of secret code and...?”
“And what if it’s just someone’s vacation pictures or class project?” Rebecca countered, almost sternly.
Molly’s face fell. “Aw, Mommy.”
“Come on. It’s time for you to get your bath and get ready for bed.” Rebecca kissed her daughter on the top of her golden head.
“Okay...” the little girl mumbled, sticking out her lower lip in a pout.
“I’ll read you Gladys and the Gorilla.” Both knew that it was a peace offering.
“For really?” Molly said hesitantly. She had lost track of the times that her mother had promised to read her her favorite book, then forgot all about her promise because of something business-related.
Rebecca crossed her heart. “For really.”
“Yippee!” A little yellow blur that was Molly hurried off to her bedroom to grab her pajamas, then disappeared into the bathroom, slamming the door shut behind her.
Smiling a little over the amount of energy her daughter possessed, Rebecca returned her attention to the picture of Cape Park. The letter ‘J’, encircled in red crayon, had been drawn over one of the stones in shelter house. Even though she would never admit it, she was burning with curiosity. What if there really was a treasure there?
No, no...treasure hunts are just wild goose chases. Besides, crazy get-rich-quick schemes don’t work. You’ve already learned that the hard way once, Rebecca, she thought, forcing herself to close the sketchbook and put it aside.
She tried to read more of A Million Ways to Make a Million Dollars, but after re-reading the same sentence five times and not comprehending a single word, she put it down and picked up the sketchbook.
It wouldn’t hurt just to look at it, I suppose...
She took the book over to her desk to get a better look at it under the desk lamp. After flipping through the pictures again, she wrote the letters that Molly had circled on the margin of her desk calendar.
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