Buster Heyman: Old Growth New Life

A Story by Jolan H

Following the death of his mother Buster Heyman, and his Father Detective Josiah Heyman move back to his Hometown of Old Growth. Where Buster discovers an immersive game.

Welcome to Old Growth, a beautiful town nestled in a valley, surrounded by redwood and sequoia trees. If you look closely at the main street, you'll notice something strange. Right next to Mr. Frigids Ice Cream shop, and Hammerfell's Hardware, is Big Zap Electronics.

What's so strange about it? We need to get closer, come on. Look at the prices of all the latest game systems. Prices so low, a worm writhing in the dirt could appreciate them. Why are they so cheap? Good question. The children in Old Growth play a game. The ultimate game. No one knows when it started or who started it or why it lasted so long.

Every parent in Old Growth remembers playing, as did their parents, and their parents before them. It would take far too long to explain how the game works, and you would stop reading if I did. Instead, I propose we follow a new player. He's on his way now. Let's get a look at him.

If you watch the highway just outside of Old Growth, you will see a truck. Inside is Buster Heyman, who just lost his mom to some illness. So you'll understand if he is a little sad and bitter. His dad moved him from the city, six hours away from his friends and the life he knows. The question is will he embrace the new one?

Detective Josiah Heyman looked down at his son's miserable expression and tousled his hair. "We are almost there. Today is a bad day, isn't it?"

Buster nodded, "I smelled pancakes when I woke up. I ran to the kitchen and expected to see her. I felt so stupid." Since the funeral, Buster's mind had been playing tricks on him. He felt sad all the time. He didn't want to.

"I'll tell you a secret. My mind plays tricks on me too. Which is why we are moving to my hometown with Aunt Millie." Mr. Heyman said. There was a faraway look in his eyes. "We need a fresh start."

Try to convince an eleven-year-old its a good idea to rip him from his friends and familiar surroundings during a difficult time. You have a better chance of catching lightning in a bottle. "How come I never met Aunt Millie?" Buster asked.

Det. Heyman shrugged, and a mysterious smile touched his face. "Aunt Millie is a little leery of the outside world. She believes Old Growth is the best place to live."

Buster was confused. If Old Growth was so awesome, why did his dad leave? "How come you left?"

Det. Heyman chuckled and then sighed. "I needed more than Old Growth to grow, do you know what I mean?" He asked. The smile remained on his face. It wasn't the fake one he wore at the funeral. This one felt real.

The trees on the side of the road were a blur. It made the truck look like it was going at light speed across the universe. In Buster's mind, this would be the highlight of his day. "No, I don't." He saw a sign that stated Old Growth was just ahead. "What is so great about this place anyway?"

"Oh, I think you have to find that out for yourself. Words can't do it justice." Det. Heyman said. He put on the blinker and turned down a road with a bridge. The truck rattled across it. "Which reminds me," He reached into the center console and produced a pair of real police badges, and tossed them to Buster.

The badges looked super cool. For a moment, Buster forgot his sadness and imagined he was chasing some thief down an alleyway. "I like the badges, dad, but what am I supposed to do with them?"

Det. Heyman rubbed his son's shoulder and asked, "What did I tell you about answers?"

It was a question Buster dreaded. Every time his dad asked it, Buster would reply with, "Answers are meaningless unless you know how you got them."

"And?" Det Heyman added.

"Not to judge until you have all the facts," Buster answered in a sullen tone. He couldn't wait to play some Alley Fighter Five when they arrived at Millie's. The happy moment had passed. All he wanted was to hide from the world.

The concrete ended and gave way to cobblestone streets and turn of the century buildings. Buster's eyes opened wide. "This looks like Danger City from Stupendous Sharkman," He exclaimed.

"It gets better. Wait until you see the ultimate playground." Det. Heyman said as he raised his eyebrow.

Buster scowled and shook his head. "I don't play anymore, dad. That's kid stuff. My friends and I hung out." Honestly, was Buster six again? "I don't see myself..." If you wondered why Buster trailed off, it was because the playground was unlike any other he had seen.

It had the usual attractions, swings, slides, and a jungle gym. At the back of the park was a pair of WW2 fighter planes made kid-friendly. You know, the kind with the shark mouth painted on them. On the far right an old castle made of wood, complete with secret entrance and drawbridge. Over on the left stood a replica of Town Square, police station included.

"Something wrong, son?" Det. Heyman asked with a grin.

What was wrong? Why hadn't his father shown him this sooner? That's what was wrong. "Okay, I take back what I said. Do lots of kids hang out there?" Buster's tone was mature. Underneath, Buster's calm exterior, his imagination ran wild.

Again, the mysterious smile on his dad's face. "You could say that. I suggest you find out. The summer is wide open, and it's an opportunity to make friends before school starts. You can't do that if you hide behind your video game screen all summer."

Something in his tone made Buster want to know more. The playground invaded his thoughts like an army laying siege to a fortress. They pulled down an oak-lined street. Buster had to rub his eyes on more than one occasion.

On the lawn of a house were two kids dressed in suits and sunglasses. They held their position next to a kid wearing an Italian three-piece. On the next street, Kids dressed up in cool knight armor standing next to a girl and boy dressed like a king and queen.

What is this place? What is going on? In the city where Buster came from, kids were more interested in the latest gadgets, and game systems. Buster had never seen so many kids on the street before. "Does anyone here play video games?" he asked.

Det. Heyman chuckled and turned into a gravel driveway. "You'll have to find out for yourself. The answer may surprise you." He put the truck in park and unlocked the doors. "Aunt Millie is a bit different, but she is giving us a place to stay until we get on our feet. Be nice."

Buster knew better than to mess with the police voice his dad used when he meant something. Buster opened the door and looked at the old Victorian house. For reasons, he couldn't understand someone had painted it a deep purple color.

The door opened, and a tall woman about his dad's age came out to greet them. Her hair looked like she had stuck her finger in a light socket. She dressed like a kid show character. Why anyone would wear so many polka dots was beyond him.

Aunt Millie waved and walked towards the truck. "Remember, be nice." His father reminded him.

"Josiah. Its been what, eleven years since I last saw you." She said as her polka-dotted arms wrapped around her brother. She turned and saw Buster. "You must be Buster." She turned back to Det. Heyman. "He sure looks like dad when he was a kid," she said.

"His mom says..." Det. Heyman trailed off and looked like someone stabbed him in the gut. Aunt Millie's face grew concerned, and then a forced smile appeared on her face.

"Don't worry about your bags. You have an interview with Ashton Warrick," She said. "He lives in a light blue house at the end of the street," Millie said. She handed Buster ten dollars. "Lunch is on me. Supper is at six. We will be waiting to hear all about your day," she said, shooing him away.

Buster didn't want to leave his dad. He wanted to be there for him, and even the mystery of Old Growth couldn't cure him of the sadness he felt. "But dad needs me..."

Millie gave him a soft look and hugged him. It was familiar, comforted him, and soothed the ache in his heart. "You need to be a kid. It's our job to get you through this, not the other way around." She said. "Now, go."

Off buster went to explore the unfamiliar surroundings. The houses weren't similar. Each one differed in size and shape. Ashton's house looked out of place compared to the menagerie that came before it.

He grabbed the lion head knocker attached to the hardwood door. He rapped it three times and waited. A woman wearing a power suit with her hair tied back in bun answered. "Can I help you?" she asked.

By this time, Buster was more confused. "Umm, I have an interview with Ashton. I'm Buster Heyman..."

"You're late. Ashton can squeeze you in before his next applicant. I think after he sees you, he'll give the job to you. You are a legacy, after all." She said

"Sure. What are we talking about?" Buster asked. Old Growth got stranger by the minute, the place had weird stamped all over it.

"Upstairs, second door on the right." The phone rang, "KJD, Mrs. Warrick speaking. I am afraid he is in a meeting right now, can I take a message." She paused and pointed up the stairs.

He looked at the pictures on the wall. Some were old. He stopped in front of one "Josiah Heyman and Randall Warrick KJD forever." was etched into the frame. What was the KJD? How did his dad fit into all of this? What the heck was a legacy?

The answers came soon enough as he knocked on a door with a plaque on it. "Ashton Warrick, Chief of KJD." was all it said. A boy's voice came from the other side and said, "Enter."

Buster entered the room, which looked an awful lot like the captain's office at his dad's old work. Ashton looked like a real police officer. He wore a black button-up shirt, a shoulder holster, and matching slacks. "I'm Buster Heyman. My aunt Millie said to come here."

Ashton walked out from behind the desk and shook hands with Buster. "Pleased to meet you, Buster. I'm Ashton chief of the Kid Justice Department."

Ashtons words grabbed Buster's brain and put it in a headlock. "Kid Justice Department?" Buster asked. It would be the first time he heard it, and wouldn't be the last time he said it.

"Come on. We'll go for a walk. I'll explain everything." Ashton slid a dart gun into the shoulder holster. "At the end of the tour, I will make you an offer. If you need more time, let me know. I'll hold a spot open for you."

Why was everyone so ambiguous? His mind couldn't leave the mystery alone. "Okay," Buster said.

Mrs. Warrick was busy. A line of ingredients was on the counter. Buster remembered when his mom used to bake. She wasn't very good at it, and her cookies were akin to hockey pucks. He could still see her face covered in flour and a ridiculous grin on her face. He fought to hold the tears back.

Ashton noticed and hurried him to the door. "Mom, we are going out for a while. I'll be back in time for supper."

"Be safe," Mrs. Warrick said without looking up.

#####

Once they were outside, Ashton pointed toward downtown. "We are headed there for the moment." He paused as they strolled toward the ornate buildings. "How long has it been?"

"Two months," Buster replied. "She was so peaceful near the end. She left before I could everything I needed to." Buster said. A single tear fell from his eye. "Sorry, I'm acting like a girl."

Ashton didn't laugh at him or say anything mean. "My dad said it was okay to feel sad and angry when you lose someone. He even admitted he cried when grandpa went to heaven." He paused and stared at the kid with the slicked-back hair and three-piece suit.

The staring contest lasted for ten seconds before Buster and Ashton resumed their journey. "Are you feuding with that guy?" Buster asked.

Ashton turned around and matched his pace with Busters. "You could say that. His name is Eddie "Pokerface" Matarazzo. He organizes fighting game tournaments where kids play for keeps. Sometimes he fixes the fights just to get his hands on the trinket of the week."

"Isn't that gambling?" Buster asked.

"It's legal in the kids charter, so as long the fights are honest. Items over fifty bucks need to be signed off by parents in writing, in front of a reputable witness. Which is where the KJD comes in, we police the twelve and under." Ashton said as if it were something every kid was doing.

"Could you repeat that?" Who could blame Buster for his disbelief? It's not every day one hears about a child police department.

"There are two faces of Old Growth. The first is the adult face. They go to work, attend PTA meetings, you get the idea." Ashton said as they passed the kids in plastic armor standing at attention. "The other face is the kid's world." He stopped and pointed to the small knights. "These guys are part of the Castle Street Knights. They do fantasy stuff and are fierce competitors in the annual dart war."

"Dart war?" Buster asked.

Ashton tapped himself on the forehead. "Right, I forgot your new. I am used to new kids talking my ear off. It's refreshing to have listening ears for a change." He motioned for Buster to follow him. "You've seen the playground?"

"Yeah. I have never seen anything like it. Its huge."

Ashton chuckled, "Anyway, at the end of the summer, we have a dart war for first dibs. A team with first dibs gets to choose what area of the park they control. As you can imagine, the Castle is the prime spot."

Buster took a moment to think. "What about the town square? I think it would be a better choice."

"It's off-limits, so is the standard equipment. The PTA decided to set a section of the park aside for the little kids." A ringing noise came from his belt. He pulled out a flip phone. "Warrick here. Really? I'll bring the new guy." He hung up. "We caught a case two streets over. We should check it out."

"I didn't say I wanted to go," Buster said, crossing his arms.

"Buster, if you weren't interested, you would have gone home by now. We have to make a stop before you meet your partner. So let's not dawdle."' Ashton said with a smirk on his face.

He was right, and Buster knew it. The whole meeting with Ashton felt like an in-game tutorial. He was tired of being sad. He couldn't help it, but doing nothing about it wasn't helping, in the least.

"Lead the way," Buster said as he smiled.

Ashton returned the smile. "Good, because our next stop is going to blow you away."

####

They came to the house painted pink. Buster wondered if the house would paint over itself if it knew how hideous it looked. "That's quite the house," Buster said. He slid the sunglasses over his eyes. "Man, that's bright."

Ashton pulled his dart gun out. "Don't let house's color fool you, Mr. Schmidt designs dart guns for Adventure World. I had my sidearm custom made. It cost me a month's allowance."

"Where's the slide? Where do the darts go? How many feet do you get per shot?" Buster felt his face go cherry red. "Sorry."

"Don't be. When was the last time you got excited over anything that wasn't a video game?" Ashton asked. "Anyway, mine is battery operated, clip-fed, with turbofan propulsion." He pressed a button and released the clip. He pulled a dart and chucked it to Buster. "Looks like a normal dart, right?"

Buster weighed the foam projectile in his hand. "It's a little heavier than the average dart." He said, taking a closer look at it.

The dart found it's way back into the clip and slid back into place. "It has a tiny ball bearing in the tip. The wind doesn't take it as much and flies a little further." Ashton grinned as he saw the smile on Buster's face. "Starting to see the bigger picture a little?"

"How did all of this start?" Buster asked as they approached the garage. It didn't matter in the long run, but a child's curiosity is a hungry animal with an insatiable appetite.

"Nobody knows. My dad played the game when he was young, his dad played, and great-grandpa played. I am grateful it exists. It makes our town unique." Ashton said with pride.

A Slender man was doing complex math equations on a whiteboard. Next to it was a diagram. Taped to the board were dart gun designs. The back wall was an eye-popping display. Dart guns of every size and description sat on hooks and filled the whole space.

The slender man turned around and revealed his young face with mustache and goatee. "Ashton, hows the Razorwind working out for you?" he asked.

Ashton tapped the holster and said, "She performs, and is the most reliable darter I've ever used. I follow the care instructions you gave me to the letter."

"Good, the last thing I want is my creations to be treated like the common toy." He noticed buster and pointed. "Recruit?"

"Buster Heyman, I'm Josiah's son. We just moved here," Buster said. He extended his hand.

A look of relief crept over Mr. Schmidt's face. "It's about time we had another Heyman in the KJD. Your father was quite the detective when he lived here. I heard your mom was a looker..." He trailed off. A frown made itself at home on Buster's face. "My condolences, young man."

"My friend here needs the usual." He turned to Buster. "You don't get to pick your weapons. Mr. Schmidt chooses for you," Ashton said.

Mr. Schmidt stroked his facial hair. "The tragedy of my work is most kids will play with one my creations for five minutes before abandoning it for the one-eyed monster called television." He walked over to the wall of dart guns. "You're a Heyman. Josiah was an observant one like you. He was such a classic gumshoe when he played. He solved a couple of adult cases too. You have the same look in your eye he did at your age."

"Is this going somewhere?" Buster whispered.

"It weirds everyone out at first, but I promise it's worth it," Ashton whispered back.

Mr. Schmidt ran his hands down the wall of dart guns. "All of these are far too common for a legacy," he muttered. He walked over to his workbench and cackled with glee. "Of course, I knew I made these for a reason." He picked up the hunks of plastic. "Do you prefer a shoulder holster. or do you like it on your hip?"

It never occurred to Buster to place any dart gun in a holster. Then again, he never expected to live in Old Growth. "I'd prefer the hip."

Mr. Schmidt chose a belt from another rack and grabbed a holster. "Like Ashton's darter, yours is a unique one and one of a kind. Please take care of it."

"I will," Buster promised.

"Meet the Lone Wolf eight-shot revolver. It comes with two modes of fire, standard slide pull, or auto via turbofan. A button on the side switches between them for ease of use. A button releases the cylinder. I included two extra cylinders for quick reloads."

The lone wolf impressed Buster to no end. The metallic cover, and wolf shaped muzzle, gave the dart gun personality. The belt itself came with the reloads, a pair of metal cuffs with the key, and in a secondary pouch sat a flip phone.

Ashton looked at his Razorwind and then to the Lone Wolf. "How much for one of those?" He asked.

Mr. Schmidt sighed and took on a snobbish tone. "No, the Lone Wolf is destined to be unique. I found the right owner." He guffawed as he pulled an assault rifle with the same look as the lone wolf. "This my friends is the Pack Leader. Twentyfour shot magazine and a twin turbofan that launches the foam like a rocket, adjustable scope included. I added a drum for intense combat situations. It comes apart for carrying ease."

"This town is weird in the best way possible," Buster blurted out.

The trio broke out into laughter. "If my mom could see..." Buster's face fell to the floor. The tears came, which lead to anger, and Buster left the garage. Rage poured off him like Niagra Falls. It wasn't about her death, but all the moments, like this one, she would miss."

He grabbed a stick and pounded a light post. The metal rang with each furious blow. Nothing existed in those moments, but Buster, the oak branch, and the light post. She wouldn't be there to see him grow up, and it hurt worse than any cut or bruise. He resented the move. He felt guilty for not being there for his dad. Most of all, he was so tired of being sad.

A grownup hand touched his shoulder. "You okay, Buster?" Mr. Schmidt asked.

Buster panted, while his pulse pounded in his ears like a drum. The stick clattered to the ground. He steadied himself with his hand and leaned against the light post.

"How long have you been hanging on to all of that?" Ashton asked in a calm voice. He acted like it was an everyday thing. Like he had seen it before.

"Who knows? I feel a million pounds lighter and a little less sad." Buster said as he stretched out. He looked at the curved branch and picked it up. "I want to keep this."

Mr. Schmidt patted Buster's shoulder. "If you give it to me, I'll make something with it. Might take a day or two, but I promise it will be worth the wait."

"Okay," Buster said. He handed the stick to the toymaker, who stared at it as he ran a hand down it.

"What do you want to do?" Ashton asked. "I'd understand if you need the rest of the day to pull yourself together."

Did he want to go home and wallow in sorrow? The past few minutes aside, Buster had enjoyed the day a little. There was no sense in turning back. Not with a case to follow. Maybe if he helped someone else, it would ease his pain. His mom always told him kindness matters. Buster figured if he put effort into being KJD, he could honor her memory.

Buster stood and dusted himself off. "No, I want to finish the tour. We have a case remember?" He wiped his eyes.

"Alright. Mr. Schmidt, where is Jerica?" He asked.

Mr. Schmidt sighed deep and massaged his temples. "Missy Coolridge and Hayley Copper came over and whisked her away to the Future Debutante Society. Her mother refuses to accept Jerica wants to be a tomboy."

"How bad is it this time?" Ashton asked with a mischievous smirk on his face. Buster sensed there was inside joke.

Mr. Schmidt smirked as well. "It makes you wonder what fashion designers are on."

"Ouch," Ashton said. He looked like someone kicked him in the gut. "In any event, we have a case. Jerica will be happy to be out of there."

####

The pair walked in silence until they came to a large house with a southern feel to it. "Head to the back yard. The Future Debutantes are the only group who don't fight in the dart war. They have their clubhouse and Missy's backyard. Oh, and it's unladylike to do such things, as Missy says."

"How upset is our presence going to make them?" Buster asked as they passed through the gate to the back yard.

"Ashton Warrick, Have you come to reconsider Missy's offer?" A voice with a southern twang said.

Buster looked at the height of Mrs. Coolridge's hair. It twisted and turned like a snake, and Buster could've sworn he saw a lock or two shift on their own.

"Is her hair going to attack us?" Buster asked in a low voice.

"Mrs. Coolridge is from Georgia. They are all about being polite and ladylike. Big hair is a thing down south, or so I've heard," Ashton replied. He cleared his throat. "No, Mrs. Coolridge, we are here on official KJD business. Meet Jerica's new partner, Buster Heyman."

"Well, bless my heart. The girls will be knocking on his door in a year or two. I assume you are staying with Millie?" She asked.

Buster moved his head before she could pinch his cheeks. "Yeah. What does she do? Dad never said."

"She runs Millie's house of tea and Conversation. Its a haven for little girls to engage in civilized play. I daresay Jerica could use some female company. If she spends too much time among the young men, people will talk." Mrs. Coolridge said in a critical tone.

Buster decided he was not very fond of Mrs. Coolridge. She was the kind of woman who believed her child was a complete angel and could do no wrong. In Buster's experience, those kids caused more trouble than anyone.

"I think it cool when girls do guy stuff. I play dragon bunch with my little girl cousins. I'm not less of a guy, or at least my dad told me as much. There are women detectives, right?" For whatever reason, Buster felt like this was the perfect time to start an argument.

Mrs. Coolridge smiled and tried to pinch his cheeks again. Buster would rather die than let this ignorant woman touch him. He dodged her hand again. "Aren't you the open-minded one," she said, moving out of their way. "Behave boys."

The backyard had a romantic feel to it. Not that Buster cared for romance. There were problems enough on his plate, adding another would only cause it to shatter.

The clubhouse proved to be quite the spectacle. Baby blue paint offset by pink heart trim, and lace curtains adorned the windows. "Missy and Hayley are going to be all over you because you're new. Just state your business."

The inside of the clubhouse was the safest place in the world. Bright colored pillows were everywhere. Three girls sat around a small table teacup in hands.

A blonde with pigtails stood up and glared at Buster and Ashton. "Ashton Warrick, have you reconsidered my offer? Leave that silly department of yours, and work for us. We could use strong hands to keep the riff-raff out." She said in a sweet southern tone.

Mr. Schmidt told the truth about their attire. Pigtails wore a fashion don't in pink with a white unicorn in pursuit of a rainbow.

Buster found he disliked her on the spot. Something in her voice grated on his ears, like nails on a chalkboard, or metal grinding on metal. Ashton winced as she spoke.

"I like working the KJD. Which reminds me, Jerica?" Ashton said out loud.

A frog wished he could be as green as Jerica's dress. "It's about time. I got the call half an hour ago." A closer look at the hideous garment saw frogs dancing on lily pads in a pattern. She tied up her wavy black hair and strapped her piece to her side.

Before Buster could say a word, the third occupant of the room was in his face. Of the three, she was the best dressed by a mile. Her dress was simple and understated.

"Oooh, he is cute. Is he, KJD Ashton?" She asked.

Jerica pushed ahead of her. "Excuse Hayley. She has personal space issues. I'm Jerica Schmidt, KJD." She extended her hand.

Buster found an instant like for Jerica. Maybe it was the way she wore the dart gun or her deep blue eyes. Either way, he produced a smile for her. "Buster Heyman, recruit and legacy, whatever that means."

Jerica's head snapped around to Ashton. "Again, Warrick? How does the chief of the KJD forget to explain what a legacy is?"

Ashtons face looked like cherry pie filling. "We got sidetracked at your dad's..."

"Stop talking. A dart gun was involved. It's all I need to know." She turned to Buster. "If dad gave you a unique darter, hold it out when you speak to Ashton. He'll retain what you say."

Ashton frowned and turned his back. "Go to Tweeter Ave. Picker is there doing prelim. Good luck, Buster, you're going to need it working with her."

"What took you guys so long?" She asked.

"I'll tell you on the way," Buster promised.

####

"And that's why we moved here and why we were late," Buster said. He had gotten through the whole story without shedding a tear. It was a milestone. "Which reminds me." he tossed a badge to Jerica. "Since your my partner, you should have that."

"Oh, this is so cool. It looks so official. We use dollar store versions. I will take good care of it, I promise." Jerica slid it on her belt. "Thanks for not laughing at my dress."

"It's not that bad. I knew a mother who dressed her daughter in more hideous garments." It was odd for Buster to lie. His dad was a detective with a high solve rate, lying always proved futile. Yet here he found himself telling one to make a girl feel better no less.

Jerica adjusted the green monstrosity she wore. "I wasn't expecting you to be so honest. Most boys our age like to lie about a lot of things."

"One time, my dad was caught in a real shoot out. His partner was going through a tough time and didn't tell him. It almost got them killed." Buster said in a solemn tone.

Jerica hung off every word. "What happened?"

"They held the line until back up arrived. My dad was mad. If his partner had told him what was going on, they could have adjusted the plan to fit the situation." Buster shivered. Part of him wanted his dad to be a detective because Josiah loved it. The other part was glad he wasn't in constant danger.

Silence came from Jerica. Her hands pulled on her index fingers. "That makes a lot of sense. I am glad to be working with you."

Myron Helmsworth III, aka Picker, met them, with his finger all the up to the knuckle in his nose. Jerica shook her head. "Don't you ever get tired of putting that thing up there? Your head will cave in, you know."

Myron grinned and grabbed a tissue from his pocket and removed his finger. "I find it oddly satisfying." He saw Buster and extended the very hand with the nose finger. "Picker at your service."

Buster withdrew his hand. "Maybe after you've washed up. Buster Heyman, I am Josiah's son. What do we have?" His dad always said to take control of the scene the moment you arrive.

Picker sighed. "The ABC Gummer struck again. I already questioned the little kids. All of them said the same thing. Colt Pops, the Superbubble mascot, came and sold them ABC gum at ten cents apiece."

"Do we know how much money he swindled out of the kids?" Jerica asked.

Notebook pages flipped as picker read through them. "Here we go. It took a while, but I estimate ten to fifteen dollars. Not much by our standards, but a fortune to kindergartners."

Buster looked at the tearstained children. It was one thing to trick someone older, but it was another matter to pick on a younger child. "Do you have any still in the wrapper?"

Picker pulled out a paper bag with the word "evidence" misspelled. He pulled out a piece and handed it to Buster. It looked and felt like the waxy wrapper of Superbubble. His finger ran along the smooth surface. Buster could feel the furrows in the gum. "Two big grooves on the side and three in the center, just like the real thing."

Jerica studied it and bent the package. "It moves like chewed gum, its the only way to tell."

"Anyway, I have to get this back to the office. Will you be keeping that piece?" Picker asked.

Buster studied the bright blue package. "Yeah, it would help to have a comparison. Sometimes my dad used evidence to gauge people's reactions to it."

"Thanks, Picker, we'll take over from here," Jerica said. She saw the thoughtful expression on Buster's face. It was the same look kids got when they were doing algebra. "What are you thinking, Heyman?"

Buster looked at the crying kids, and then back to Jerica. His stomach growled like an angry tiger. "We should check the candy store, and have some lunch."

"Why would we go to the Candy store?" Jerica asked.

"You'll see," Buster said.

####

The Sweet Tooth Candy shop was ten times better than any in the city. Candy from all over the world rested on the hardwood shelves. Gummy snakes eight feet long hung by the counter. Mr. Whistler greeted them with a smile. "Jerica, its been a while since I have seen you in here." He saw Buster and smiled, "You're a Heyman. I'd recognize that look in your eye anywhere. You're on a case, aren't you?"

"Is my family that well known?" Buster asked.

"Believe it or not. Your grandfather was sheriff. He wanted your dad to take his place. Something happened, and your dad went to the city." Jerica said.

"Love for the law runs deep in the Heyman bloodline." Mr. Whistler said. "Not a single person said no to your dad joining the sheriff's office," he added.

Buster nodded. "Do you have time for a couple of questions?"

Mr. Whistler leaned forward and propped himself up on the counter, "Fire away."

Jerica put the chewed gum on the counter. "What can you tell me about this gum," she asked.

Mr. Whistler picked up the offensive candy. "I can tell you the wrapper is from six months ago. Do you see the number on the side?" He showed Buster and Jerica. "The month it was produced is always on the side in case of a recall."

"Good, it gives us something for the guys at the office to look over. "We have an office, right?" Buster asked Jerica.

"Yeah, the old pool hall. Its almost finished being converted to the KJD headquarters." She paused and then smiled. "You want to see if the wrappers are all from the same month, don't you?"

"The gum has to come from somewhere. I don't think it's coming from here, though." Buster said, looking around. He noticed a camera above the door. "That camera would record any large purchases."

Jerica agreed. "Mr. Whistler would remember a large quantity too." She pulled her phone out, "I'll give Picker a ring and see if the dates line up."

Jerica stepped outside. Mr. Whistler leaned on the counter again. "Do you have any questions for me?" He asked.

"Why did my dad leave?" Buster asked.

"The town was too small for him," Mr. Whistler said. He sanitized the counter while he spoke. "Your dad was made to stand out. He broke a couple of poaching operations as a rookie. He helped a detective find a fugitive in town. Your mom was just as good as he was..."

Buster's jaw dropped to the floor. "Mom was a detective?"

Mr. Whistler set a picture on the counter. It was from a newspaper clipping. Sure enough, there was his mom standing next to his dad, gun badge, and all. "Detective Annabel Sharpe and Deputy Josiah Heyman Pose for a picture after capturing notorious mob boss, Salvatore Matarazzo."

Buster gazed at the picture. "Any relation to Pokerface?"

"Yeah, Salvatore moved here from New York. Our town isn't on any map. Salvatore asked for one favor from the feds, to keep his wife and son's whereabouts secret. After living here for a while, he didn't want his son to take on the family business."

Like his father, Buster hated unanswered questions. Why didn't his mom ever say anything about this part of her life? Why did his dad keep it a secret?. His dad had much to answer for when he got home.

"Thanks, Mr. Whistler if I need anything else we will be in touch." Buster met up with Jerica on the street. "I got more than I bargained for out of that interview." He said. His stomach growled again. "We should eat."

Jerica nodded, "Lets head to Apollo's diner. They have the best milkshakes."

####

Apollo's diner turned out to be and oddity. Amid all the old-style architecture was 60s style diner dedicated to all of the Apollo Space Projects. The owner, Mr. Launche, was quite the space race fanatic. In a glass case sat a shiny metal fragment. Mr. Launche claimed it was a piece of the famed Apollo 13 flight.

Jerica and Buster found a seat in the landing pod booth. The waitress came and took their order. "What took you so long in the shop?" Jerica asked.

"I had to know why my dad left Old Growth. My mom was a detective. She and dad captured Salvatore Matarazzo."

"That explains what happened to Eddy's dad, and why Dina never talks to Millie. I wonder why no one talks about it?"

"I am going to get the whole story one way or another," Buster said in a determined voice. "Anyway, back to the case. Where do you find lots of chewed gum?"

Jerica thought about it for a moment. "Under the desks at school. The worst offenders get community service. Scraping gum from the bottom of desks is one of them."

"Do you keep records of that?" Buster asked.

"Yeah. Weird Billy takes care of the filing and a few other things. Why?" Jerica asked.

"Maybe our suspect was scraping gum for the last little while," Buster said. "It still doesn't explain how it was from desk to package."

Their food arrived, and the young detectives' dove right into their meals. Buster hadn't felt this hungry in a while. Jerica watched him, "Can I ask you something?" She asked.

"You can ask me anything?" Buster said. He wiped his mouth with a napkin.

"Did you ever have a girlfriend or go on any dates?" Jerica's face went a lovely rose color.

"I hung out with girls after school sometimes. I never kissed anyone yet. I went to a middle school dance." Buster said. His ears felt like they were on fire.

Jerica looked interested. "What was it like?"

"Imagine a decorated gym, good food, decent music. Now add the boys and girls. What do you think they're doing?" Buster asked.

"Wouldn't they be dancing?" Jerica said.

"Wrong. The girls on are one side of the room, talking about the boys they like. The boys are on the other side of the gym talking about the latest video games. Two people are dancing in the center, namely the chaperones." Buster said.

Buster and Jerica started to laugh. "It all seems like a waste of time to me," Jerica said.

"Mom said..." Buster trailed off for a moment and held back his sorrow. "Mom said it was practice for when we got older."

"People need to practice standing at opposite ends of the room? Weird." Jerica said with a giggle.

Buster laughed with her. "Could you imagine that class. Room standing 101. If you are standing in the center, you're doing it wrong."

Jerica rolled with it. "No, No, girls at one end boys at the other. We can't mix the genders. Our room standing may turn into a dance."

Buster and Jerica laughed for several minutes. Tears of joy fell from Buster's eyes, and Jerica smacked the table. "Thanks, Jerica, I needed a good laugh. Ashton seems serious all the time."

Jerica shoved a fry in her mouth. "Ashton is the son of the Preacher. He and his dad are a little at odds. His dad expected him to shepherd the young lambs, Ashton chose law enforcement."

"We are kids. He might choose to shepherd the flock when he gets older. I like being a detective, but who knows tomorrow I might want to write novels or become a movie star," Buster said.

Jerica gave him a sideways look. "I think being a detective suits you...We have to leave now." She pointed to the door. Missy and Hayley walked into the diner.

"Yeah, we should head to the office and talk to this Weird Billy of yours. Figure out who's been serving time scraping gum," Buster said.

As they passed Missy and Hayley, Hayley shot a hateful look at Jerica as they left. "I wonder what I did to make her mad?" Jerica asked.

Buster shrugged and pointed to the building with a pool stick over the door. "Who knows. Is that where we're going?"

"You bet."

####

A kid wearing a desk uniform greeted them at the front counter. "Jerica. I thought you were with the Debutantes Society today?"

Jerica shook her head and spoke like she had some horrid taste in her mouth. "Thank goodness a case dropped in our lap." She stood next to Buster and smiled. "This is Buster Heyman, my partner. He gave me this," Jerica said as her hands held up the badge.

"Yeah, Ashton told me about him. I think you can do better than someone who doesn't know anything about Old Growth." The boy said.

Buster went to speak, and Jerica covered his mouth. "Stay out of it, Buster." She rounded on the kid behind the desk. "If you have a problem, Amos, I suggest you say it straight to my face. Buster is good police."

Amos snorted. "I'll believe that when I see it. He's probably like the others. He'll solve one case and move on to the next thing. I should be out there with you."

Jerica growled and swung at Amos. Buster pulled her back, "I'd quit if you were my partner. You should be in the looney bin," Buster pulled her back. She was a lot stronger than she looked.

"Relax, Jerica, Amos has the right to his opinion." Amos sat up straight and gave Jerica a smug look. "It doesn't mean anyone cares about it, but he is entitled to his opinion." Amos scowled. Buster derived satisfaction from the moment.

Jerica laughed wickedly. "Do the KJD a favor, Amos, rejoin the theater. It suits you better."

"What was his problem?" Buster asked. They opened walked into what used to be the kitchen.

A kid wearing a white lab coat was looking at something. "If I add the string theory, and minus the theory of relativity, I should create the ultimate soda," He said.

Jerica whistled. "Hey, Billy. We need your services for a minute."

Billy looked up from his experiment. He stared at Buster and covered the distance between them in seconds. "Initiating comparison with kid offender database. Zero matches. Scanning features and running them against previous members of KJD. The closest comparison, one Josiah Heyman."

Billy was nothing short of impressive. "I am his son Buster." He extended his hand. Jerica batted it away. "What gives?"

Jerica pulled him off to the side. "Billy has some form of autism. He has a thing about being touched. His mom watches the Station in case Billy melts down."

The problem with being eleven is you have to test every rule. Buster strode up to Billy and held out his hand. Jerica inhaled a deep breath. Billy looked at his hand. "Initiating high five protocol." He slapped Buster's hand. "Protocol concluded. Follow me."

"Can I bring Jerica?" Buster asked.

Weird Billy looked over at Jerica. "Request granted."

Jerica stood beside him. "Why didn't he freak out?" She asked out of the side of her mouth.

"When I lived in the city, I pulled a major prank on the Special Ed class. Something to do with a bucket of water above a door. An expensive computer got damaged. Mom was..." Buster went silent for thirty seconds. He remembered the argument with his mom. How one look from her could instill shame in him. How one kind word could make the world smile with her.

Jerica put her arm his shoulder. "Was she a good mom?"

Buster nodded, "The best." He wiped his eyes and cleared his throat. "Anyway, I was facing expulsion, and with good reason. Mom said I did what I did out of ignorance, and offered a solution that worked for everyone. I spent a whole semester in that class during homeroom."

"Was it tense?" Jerica asked.

"At first, it was. I had a lot of time to figure out who was approachable, and who wasn't. The kids who were off by themselves, I left alone. The talkative ones would allow you to greet them if you were careful."

© 2020 Jolan H

Author's Note

This isn't done as of yet and is a first draft feedback would be appreciated

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Reviews

Peter Rogerson

I have worked out that shorter chapters posted at regular intervals work better than longer ones, but hey, this captures the imagination from the word go. Btw, thanks for the observations on my piece.