فصل سی یکم

chapter-31

“Finding the truth, no matter what truth you are seeking, is more important than finding the thief who stole my blueprints,” said Mr. Lemoncello when Kyle suggested they should call off the whole Fabulous Fact-Finding Frenzy.

So, early the next morning, the four remaining contestants met at the library to discuss their research strategy.

“We need to get to the bottom of this,” said Kyle. “Fast.” “Where do we start?” asked Angus.

“The heart of his game-making empire,” suggested Abia. “New York City. Home of Mr. Lemoncello’s Imagination Factory!” “Good idea,” said Akimi. “If this Irma Hirschman called them, like she claims she did on her website, somebody at his I.F. headquarters may have already found the answer we’re searching for.” With the permission of Ms. Waintraub, the holographic research librarian, they brought the Family Frolic board game they’d found in the Lemoncello-abilia Room with them.

Mad Dog drove them back to the airport.

“Do you have your permission slips?” asked the flight attendant on Mr. Lemoncello’s private jet.

They all handed over their signed scrolls.

“Our parents are behind us one hundred percent,” said Kyle.

“Then buckle up!”

Nobody was interested in all the free food on the flight from Ohio to New York. They were too busy working their armrest computers, digging for information, searching for the truth.

“This is good,” said Akimi, scrolling through a website. “It says here you can always tell when someone’s lying because they touch or cover their mouths. They also shuffle their feet, point a lot, and stare at you without blinking.” Kyle nodded. “Good to know when we start talking to people in New York. Some of Mr. Lemoncello’s employees may not want to tell us the truth. It could cost them their jobs.” “Fascinating,” said Abia, clacking keys on her computer.

“What’d you find?” asked Kyle.

“It’s more what I did not find. Google allows you to call up patents quite easily. For instance, I found Charles B. Darrow’s patent filing from 1935 for his ‘board game apparatus’ Monopoly. I also located Luigi L. Lemoncello’s 1974 patent for Family Frenzy, complete with a full description of the board, game cards, playing pieces—everything.” “And Family Frolic?” asked Kyle.

“Nothing.”

“Maybe Irma Hirschman called the game something else when she filed her patent,” suggested Angus.

“I investigated that possibility as well. Still nothing. There are no patents registered to anyone named Irma Hirschman.” “So the game you guys found in the Lemoncello-abilia Room could be a phony?” said Akimi.

“It is a possibility,” said Abia.

“Hot dog!” said Kyle.

Akimi cocked an eyebrow. “Since when do you say ‘hot dog’ when you’re pumped instead of ‘booyah’?” Kyle grinned. “I only said ‘hot dog’ because all of a sudden I’m starving. I’m hoping they still have some of those Chicago-style wieners on board.” When the banana jet landed at a corporate airfield just outside of New York City, a limousine, molded and painted to look like a harmonica on wheels (because a tiny tin harmonica was another one of the tokens you could pick when playing Family Frenzy), pulled right up to the jet’s steps.

“Welcome,” said the driver. “You kids have any luggage?” “Just this,” said Kyle, gesturing with the Family Frolic game box.

The driver took off his sunglasses and somberly studied the box top.

“Family Frolic. Is that the game the lady from Missouri invented before the boss invented his version of the same game?” “Well,” said Akimi, “that’s what somebody wants us to believe.” “Yeah,” said the driver, pointing over his shoulder with his thumb. “Irma Hirschman. She’s been on talk radio all morning, sobbing and sniffling and telling anybody who will listen that Mr. Lemoncello stole her idea.” Kyle and the others hurried into the limo.

“Here she is again,” said the driver, dialing up the volume on his radio. “They play this sound bite like every ten minutes.” “After all these years, I’ve finally found the courage to speak up,” said a sweet-sounding voice. “The gals in my quilting bee at the retirement home convinced me that it’s never too late to tell the truth. Mr. Lemoncello stole my idea. He should’ve been punished decades ago. But better late than never.” “Retirement home?” said Akimi. “I thought she lived in a homeless shelter.” “You guys?” said Kyle. “This is way too big of a coincidence. Yesterday we find Irma Hirschman’s board game. Today she’s all over the radio crying about it?” “Too bad it’s radio,” said Akimi. “If it were TV, we could see her covering her mouth, shuffling her feet, and staring without blinking!” Kyle really hoped Akimi was right.

He hoped Irma Hirschman was totally lying.