The Popcorn Colonel Page 5

  Mrs. Zuckerwatte covered her mouth in shock and hurried toward the struggle to help William.

  “Let go of me!” William forced out through clenched teeth “Daaa…” William tried calling for his dad, but Cornwell covered his mouth and continued pulling him toward the shed. Cornwell pried the garden shed door open and shoved William in. He turned to find Mrs. Zuckerwatte standing there with a piece of firewood in her hand to fend him off.

  Cornwell laughed. “What are you going to do with that, build a fire to roast marshmallows?

  William tried to get at Cornwell, but he was not quick enough. Cornwell turned and pushed him back down.

  “Where are the glasses and the lab notes? Give them to me,” Cornwell said.

  “I don’t know what you are talking about!” William said, fighting against Cornwell’s hold on him.

  “Don’t lie to me,” Cornwell said. “I know you have them.”

  Mrs. Z. trembled, “Villiam! Are you okay?” she said, “Don’t vorry all vill be fine.”

  Mrs. Zuckerwatte looked at the intruder and her eyes grew wide but had a kind look in them. She pleaded “Kettler, zis is not zee vay. Please let him go. You haven’t zee need to do zis,” she said.

  Cornwell took the firewood from her and dropped it on the ground. Then he pulled her into the shed and closed the door. “You’re so sweet Emy. You just don’t have it in you to be any other way. I’ve always found it fitting that Zuckerwatte means cotton candy in German. It really is the perfect name for you..” Then he began to tie them up back to back as they sat helpless on the wooden slatted floor.

  Cornwell twirled the end of his mustache, then smoothed it out. “I’m very sorry Emy,” he said. “But you see, I must have the glasses and the lab notes. I’m going to become rich and famous with them, and the world will be mine, I can’t have anyone stopping me.”

  He checked William’s pockets for the items he sought but found nothing. Frustrated, he stood up to leave.

  “Don’t make a sound,” Cornwell said as he gave them both a pat on the head. “I would regret it if something were to happen to your husband, Emy. I’m going to leave now. Be a good Zuckerwatte and do as you are told. And keep the kid quiet.”

  Then he was gone.

  “I am vorried about Mr. Z., Villiam,” Mrs. Z. said.

  “Don’t worry Mrs. Z.,” he said. “We’ll get out of this somehow.”

  “Villiam, you are very brave,” Mrs. Zuckerwatte told him, “very brave.”

  William looked around for something to help them escape the ropes, but it was no use. His mind raced. Cornwell knew William had the glasses, that much was certain. What was uncertain was how Mr. Zuckerwatte was holding up wherever he was; that was William’s biggest concern. He needed to rescue him, but how? He saw no way of getting loose. His mind kept circling back to the mention of lab notes.

  They had been in the shed for at least 30 minutes. His dad would be wondering where he was, and the lasagna would be ready soon. When it was, his dad would be calling up to his room to come down. What if Cornwell had done something to him? William’s heart began to thud against his chest. Oh, no. What about Marie! Was she safe? He wondered in a panic, which sent his heart thudding against his chest again. Cornwell had seen her with William at the Cotton Candy Movie House. As the thoughts came rushing at William, he fought harder against the ropes. Every time he did, they seemed to tighten more. He was desperate. Should he call out for help? Cornwell might not be working alone. What if someone else was standing guard over the captives in the garden shed to make sure they did not foil Cornwell’s plan? It was probably Cornwell’s kids, those horrible twins. William’s thoughts skipped around in his head, then landed on something Cornwell had said about the name Zuckerwatte meaning cotton candy in German. It felt to William like he was on the verge of another puzzle piece falling into place.

  He was just about to whisper to Mrs. Zuckerwatte, when William heard footsteps. He could not see who was coming. His heart fell into his stomach as the doorknob rattled. He felt Mrs. Zuckerwatte shift uncomfortably, but neither one made a sound. The door slowly creaked open, and moonlight cast a shadowed figure against the back wall of the shed. William held his breath and shut his eyes tight.

  “Will! Mrs. Zuckerwatte! Are you okay?” Marie said as she rushed over to free them.

  Mrs. Zuckerwatte rubbed her wrists once she was free of the ropes. “Children, I believe I’m going to go see eef I can find Mr. Zuckerwatte,” she said. “Zank you for zee rescue, darling girl.”

  William got to his feet. “I’m coming with you. Let me go ask my dad. I will be right back.”

  On the way to his house William stopped briefly to tell Marie that it was Kettler Cornwell that tied him and Mrs. Z. up. Marie was confused, but only for a moment.

  “He is literally an evil villain Marie, just like in the movies,” William said convincingly.

  “Cornwell? The guy taking tickets? Why on earth would he do that? You really need to tell your dad. I’m going home.” Marie said.

  The color drained from Will’s face as he considered having to tell his dad everything and all the questions his dad would have, and how he would probably be grounded until Christmas, five years from now. He walked into the house and found his dad was watching a show about the history of race cars. William’s stomach roared with hunger just as the oven timer beeped.

  Abandoning his courage to spill the beans about the entire story, he decided to stick to the urgent issue.

  “Dad, Mr. Z. didn’t make it home. Mrs. Z. is going to the theater to look for him. Can I go with her?”

  “I’m sure Mr. Z. is fine.” said his dad. His dad’s reassuring words didn’t match the concern on his face as he got to his feet to take the lasagna out of the oven to cool.

  “But Dad…”

  “Supper is almost ready,” he said. He was completely oblivious to what was going on in Shuckersville this evening, and it was all William’s fault.

  William’s dad was getting plates out of the cabinet when the phone rang.

  “That was Mrs. Z., I’m going to drive her up to the theater. When the lasagna cools go ahead and eat, I’ll be right back. And no soda with supper, ok? I think you’ve outgrown that sweatshirt buddy” William’s dad said, grabbing the car keys and his cell phone.

  “Yeah, no kidding,” said Will under his breath. He fought to pull it off. Finally free from it, he opened the door to the garage and tossed it into a cardboard box labeled “donations.”

  “Good riddance,” he said closing the door.

  Soon after, the car’s engine sprung to life.

  CHAPTER NINE

  The Contents of The Golden Box

  Although William’s stomach was tied up in a mess of knots, it hadn’t affected his appetite. He assured himself that Mr. Zuckerwatte was perfectly fine, and now that his dad was involved he felt the situation was under control. He finished his supper and rinsed his plate, then went up to his room. He busied himself with various projects in his room but quickly lost interest. First he tried to get absorbed in his model rocket, then with his dad’s old baseball cards. But he just couldn’t stop thinking about the glasses. He had questions he needed answered. What if he and Marie were the only ones who knew enough about what was going on to find Mr. Zuckerwatte,, even though they actually had no clue what any of it meant? There was a lot to figure out and not enough answers yet to piece much together. How did Kettler Cornwell know about the glasses to begin with? He must have known before the twins told him about them. They were all new in town. He must have come here with the specific purpose of getting his hands on them. And where was Mr. Z.?

  “He will be home any minute now,” William reassured himself out loud. He looked out the window expecting to see his dad’s car pulling into the driveway. But it didn’t.

  William paced back and forth nervously.. He was just abou
t to plop down onto his bed in defeat when his toe bumped Mr. Zuckerwatte’s box. William knelt down and picked up the box and stared intently at it.

  “Okay, I’ve got to figure this out,” he said out loud. “Focus… attention to detail.”

  William sat down at the desk by the window. He looked down at the lanterns circled around the cornstalk as he thought about the day’s events. He fumbled with the glasses and flipped through the blank book. He inspected the box, looking over every inch; it was very plain. But there was something else in tucked into the hidden compartment that he hadn’t seen before. William took the new discovery from its hideaway: it was an old glossy photograph of two young men sitting at a table wearing lab coats. They looked as if they were working on a science experiment. William studied the faces in the photograph. Something familiar about both of the people staring back at him tugged at his memory. The man on the left side of the photograph had a “Z”-shaped scar on his right cheek and wore a round looking glass over one eye. The man on the right looked very similar to the nosy ticket taker and kidnapper, Kettler Cornwell. How was that possible? This photo was black and white and had a date written beneath it -- 1941 -- and two names, Edmund and Orville. William could not believe this. Cornwell and Mr. Z., seventy something years ago? The men looked to be the same young age. This must be Mr. Zuckerwatte and Kettler’s grandfather, the old man at the movie theater waving around his cane.

  William turned his attention back to the box. The latch looked similar to the doorknob at the theater. He remembered that the knob was transformed when he had the glasses on, so he unfolded a pair and put them on. The box began to turn gold as the color spread over it like molten lava over the rim of a volcano. It took William’s breath away. Until now he hadn’t actually looked at the box any of the times he had worn the glasses. Where before the box was smooth, now intricate swirls and lines glowed on the surface, carved into what resembled an ornate gilded treasure chest. William sat, mesmerized by the light emanating in front of him. It almost felt warm, and it was drawing him in like a moth to a flame. The light from the box pulsed like an energy source, touching the little book lying on the table beside it. William picked up the book and absentmindedly fanned the pages with his thumb for the seventh time. He took a breath and sighed a deep sigh. He flipped the pages at a rapid pace from one side of the book to the other. Glancing down, he saw that the pages were now filled with thick black inky markings. He stopped flipping the pages at once. He lifted the glasses up to his forehead, and the pages became blank. When he lowered them once again, the ink returned to the page like a magical water coloring. The ink saturated the pages as if they had just been written. After lifting the glasses and bringing them back to his eyes multiple times, he convinced himself that he wasn’t seeing things. However, this was not answering any questions, only creating more questions and more mystery along with it. William was certain of one thing: that it was Mr. Z. in the photograph. After all, he was almost positive it was Mr. Z. who made sure he had found the box, and it was Mr. Z. who had whispered to him about wearing the glasses in the theater.

  He turned the pages of the book and saw sketches of various gadgets and inventions, page after page; and then when he turned to page seven, he saw something familiar. It was a sketch of the box, two pairs of glasses, and what William assumed were popcorn kernels. On page eight, William discovered an illustration of a lone cornstalk surrounded by seven lanterns. Beneath it a handwritten note read:

  Using lanterns as a nighttime light and heat source ensures the stalk will produce kernels to their full potential.

  It further read:

  We anticipate one ear of corn per each 365-day cycle.

  William flipped back to the photograph to study it more. He noticed the pockets of the lab coats the men were wearing said Zuckwell, Inc. He also noticed that in the background there was a small plant growing in a pot with lanterns surrounding it. Cornwell was holding a pair of the very same glasses William was wearing, and the box they belonged in was sitting open on the table. Mr. Z. held a fountain pen, and a small journal lay open in front of him. How had William not noticed this before? He must have been so caught up in the two men’s faces that he had not paid attention to the rest of the details. He needed to talk to Marie.

  William ran downstairs and called her, and when she answered, his voice had a noticeable crack.

  “Marie, you aren’t going to believe what I’ve found!”

  “What? Is it about the talking popcorn man?” she said. “I was just about to call you to see if Mr. Z. came home; this is freaking me out. Are you okay? Did you tell your dad about the garden shed? Maybe we could talk to my Granny.” William raked his fingers through his hair. “No, I didn’t have time, and he took Mrs. Z. to the theater. So, I guess that means they haven’t found him.

  William could hear the sound of a keyboard clicking away through the phone, then Marie’s voice.

  “I’ve been looking online. I found an article about Cornwell. His full name is Orville Kettler Cornwell the third and he has twin sons, but it doesn’t list their names. An out-of-town newspaper article says he claimed he could make popcorn come to life and that it would earn him millions. He was put in a mental hospital for evaluation. It says he was a scientist and had burned his lab down while researching an experiment with his grandfather, Orville Cornwell. So, what have you found out? Is it about the glasses? Did you find another hidden door?” Marie said.

  William was absorbing the information Marie had just given him when he heard tires grating on the driveway gravel. He stood up to look out the window. “I think my dad is back.”

  It was not his dad. Instead, he saw a black car with dark-tinted windows sitting in front of the Zuckerwatte’s house.

  “Will, are you there?” Marie said.

  “Um, hang on a minute,” William replied.

  William moved the curtain to hide himself from view as he watched the occupants of the car. Two men in light grey suits with yellow ties got out of the car and walked up the Zuckerwattes’ sidewalk and up the porch steps. From the angle William was at he couldn’t see the front door.

  William continued to peek out the window. One of the men was walking around to the backyard and was looking at the lanterns and the cornstalk. He thought he saw the light of the lanterns glint off the collar of the man’s white shirt but he couldn’t be sure. He heard Marie asking her Granny if she could go over to Will’s to help him with a problem he was trying to sort out. But her Granny told her it was too late, and it could wait until tomorrow.

  “Okay, Will, I’m on my way,” said Marie in a whisper.

  CHAPTER TEN

  The Back Door

  William waited on the front porch for Marie. He pulled the glasses partially out of his jacket pocket to show her he had them, then zipped them in for safe keeping. He wasn’t taking any more chances on losing them. He pointed over to the car parked at the Zuckerwatte’s, then put a finger over his mouth to indicate that they needed to be very quiet. Her eyes widened as she looked the scene over.

  “That car has been here for about 10 minutes, and there are two men walking around Mr. Z.’s backyard,” William whispered.

  “Who do you think they are?” she said.

  William shrugged his shoulders. “Let’s go,” he said to Marie quietly, not wanting to attract the attention of the men.

  William and Marie headed down the porch steps, then down the sidewalk. They turned to the left in the direction of Marie’s house and away from the Zuckerwatte’s house and walked rapidly. The night air whipped at their faces as they began to jog. As soon as they were out of sight of William’s house, they took a short cut down a side street in the opposite direction of Marie’s house toward the movie theater. Then they ran as fast as they could, staying out of the street lights just in case William’s father was already headed back. About five minutes later, the movie theater came into view. They slowed
to a walk to catch their breath and come up with their plan.

  William’s dad and Mrs. Zuckerwatte had their faces pressed against the revolving glass doors looking inside. William’s dad was talking to someone on his cell phone.

  By now, the one thing William had figured out in certainty was that the glasses were the key to all of this, and so they put them on.

  “We’re going to have to stop time Marie,” reasoned William, “because we are running out of it. We need to use the glasses.”

  “I don’t know, William, it seems like we shouldn’t,” said Marie, “we don’t even understand what is going on. We’ve got to talk to Mr. Z.,” she urged.

  “We don’t know where he is, no one does, so what other choice do we have? Tell my dad and your Granny? They’ll never believe us.” William responded as he headed into the alleyway.

  They snuck around the back of the theater looking for a way in. They saw a faint golden glow floating out from behind an old theater sign leaning up against the back wall; William moved the sign. Another golden door knob greeted them.

  “Oh great!” said Marie “another mysterious doorknob in a dark alley. Fantastic... now let’s go get your dad.”

  “This has to be it, Marie!” William said. They began to hear muffled POP POP POP sounds.

  William was just about to put his hand on the doorknob when all of a sudden, the door opened on its own. It was just an empty doorway and carried the overwhelming smell of freshly popped popcorn. William and Marie looked at one another.

  “Hey, you two with the glasses!” said the little voice. “Can’t you see what’s right under your nose? DOWN HERE!”

  William and Marie looked down.