LITMIR.BIZ

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would like their bubblegum caffeine. Come back tomorrow. I’ll have some more grape gelato then, just in time for winter.”

      “Cool,” Dani said, not noticing Chas’s smirk.

      The girls wandered down Ottawa’s Bank Street, the main thoroughfare in the Glebe. As they strolled, they watched people hurry along to shop. Couples paused outside stores, lingering a little longer than usual in the sunshine to savour the last warmth of an Indian summer. Winter in Ottawa usually came quickly and settled deeply long before the official winter solstice.

      “So this strange little Mackenzie King guy,” Caitlin said between mouthfuls of gelato, “says we should read Dustin Fairburn’s column in the Glebe Examiner.”

      “Right,” Dani said, pleased with her friend’s grasp of the facts.

      “‘Cause if we do, we’ll get some clues about what Mr. King thinks is so important for us to help him with — you know, murder and stuff like that.”

      “Right,” Dani said, impressed again.

      “And then,” Caitlin continued, “he’ll appear and tell us why all this stuff could change everything in Canada — like our history and our future.”

      “Right. Makes perfect sense,” Dani said, fully satisfied.

      “Hello! Dani, this is crazy!” Caitlin was so excited that she spat out gelato, the drippings clinging indelicately from her chin.

      Dani grinned. “Of course, it seems strange, ’cause this is a mystery and we’re detectives again. But this time maybe we get to save Canada. By the way, you’ve got gelato on your chin.”

      Caitlin swiped at her face. “And you’ve got gelato on your overalls.”

      Dani glanced down but didn’t attempt to remove the gelato stains. “Kind of blends in.”

      “I know you love doing detective stuff, Dani, but we really don’t have a clue and Mr. King seems sort of nutty to me.”

      Dani picked up a copy of the Glebe Examiner from a newsstand. “We will, though, and once we gather our clues we’ll have a case. And there’s no better place to start than Fairburn’s column.

      Caitlin continued to clean her chin and inspect her clothes as Dani read, re-read, and again read Dustin Fairburn’s column. “Wow ... amazing ... hard to believe.”

      “Come on, Dani, what the heck does it say?”

      “I have no idea.”

      “Dani!”

      Dani continued to scan the article. “Well, there are lots of words, most of ’em pretty big, but I don’t know what this stuff has to do with Mr. King. I mean, he was the prime minister of Canada, and Fairburn’s article just talks about parks and selling land in Ottawa, which Dustin doesn’t seem too happy about. Hey, it even mentions Windsor Park right behind where you live, Caitlin.”

      “Sell my park? How can anyone sell a park?”

      “We could ask Mr. Fairburn,” Dani suggested.

      “And we’ll get a long answer with long words.”

      “Or we could ask Sadie Squires.”

      “For an answer that makes sense — to a kid, that is,” Caitlin said as Dani began marching off. “Hey! Where are you going?”

      “To Abbotsford Home for Senior Citizens just like you said.”

      Caitlin followed her friend, always a stride behind. “Did you know that when you get wind of a mystery you’re as stubborn as Nikki is?”

      “Yeah, well, I know someone more stubborn than Nikki and me put together when it comes to winning loonies at cribbage.”

      “Good point.”

      Dani put her head down, buried her hands in her overalls, and stretched her lead to two strides. “Mission impossible, but I’ve got two loonies left and I feel lucky today.”

      Caitlin sighed heavily. “Poor girl. Poor foolish girl.”

      Sadie stared down the length of her nose, fixing her gaze through the spectacles perched precariously at the tip. “Now, mind, I could say how it pains an old body to steal loonies from such fine young ladies, but I won’t lie to you.” Sadie’s face creased deeply as she laughed and extended a bony limb to rescue two more coins. “Course, I know my luck can’t last forever, and you’re both gettin’ better — regular cribbage sharks one day soon. So what did you want to ask me, huh?” She whisked the loonies into her dresser drawer and studied her two young friends intently.

      Hard to believe she’s a hundred years old, Caitlin thought. In fact, she doesn’t look a day over ninety-nine.

      Dani looked at the floor, the walls, the ceiling, everywhere except Sadie. “Um, the thing is —”

      Sadie waved a thin arm encouragingly. “I know, child. You can’t tell me certain things for certain reasons. I understand. No matter. Just tell me how I can help.”

      “Thanks, Sadie,” Dani said, letting out a huge breath. “I knew we could count on you.”

      “When you start askin’ my advice so you can rob a bank, I might be less cooperative,” Sadie said with a wink. “Unless, of course, you cut me in for a third. So what’s on your young, eager minds this bright October afternoon?”

      Caitlin smiled. “For a third you’d have to drive the getaway car, Sadie.”

      “Horse and buggy’s more my style, child.”

      Dani frowned impatiently at Caitlin and rolled her eyes. “Sadie, we kind of wondered if you remembered stuff about William Lyon Mackenzie King ...”

      “Used to be the prime minister of Canada,” Caitlin added.

      “Thank you, Caitlin,” Sadie said. “I might have forgotten that. Course, I remember him. Took us through some tough times — the Great Depression, the Second World War. Never seemed much of a leader somehow, but he outlasted all his critics. Nothin’ fancy, bland even, and just between us, bit of an oddball. Oh, it wasn’t so much talkin’ to ghosts, séances, and such, but it seems he was real stuck on his mother. She was a regular adviser to the PM on world matters, you might say. Mr. King never married. I guess ’cause no one could ever compare to his dearly departed mom.”

      Dani stroked her chin thoughtfully. “Sadie, did Mr. King ever have any interest in parks or anything?”

      “Parks? Well, since he was the man who created Gatineau Park, I’d have to say, yes, he sure did have an interest in parks.”

      “Hey, that’s where Kingsmere is,” Caitlin said.

      “Makes sense, don’t you think?” Sadie said.

      “How about parks in Ottawa, particularly ones along the Rideau River?” Dani asked, rising on her toes, something she did whenever she enunciated big words. Then, for emphasis, she tapped her rolled-up Glebe Examiner.

      “What you got there, child?” Sadie asked.

      “Dustin Fairburn’s column,” Dani answered proudly, spreading the pages dramatically. “He says: ‘The City of Ottawa is contemplating selling several pieces of land, including Windsor Park, to developers in order to address its deficit problem, as well as its serious lack of housing.’ He also says there’s a meeting at City Hall tonight to vote on the Windsor Park sale.”

      “You don’t say?” Sadie said.

      “What’s a deficit?” Caitlin asked.

      “That’s when you spend more than you earn,” Sadie answered. “But that’s no excuse for sellin’ parks. The fools! What in the world, though, has all that got to do with our long-deceased prime minister?”

      Both girls shrugged.

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