The Secret Manuscript by Edward Mullen Page B

owner had just vanished one night without
leaving a trace. It was a peculiar mystery indeed; one that Ben had
a hard time wrapping his head around.
    He stayed
indoors mostly, only leaving when necessary. One such trip was to a
pawnshop where he pawned the jewellery he had stolen from his old
apartment building. It was the only money they had and it was
keeping him and Kyle afloat until they found work. It was enough to
get the electricity turned back on and for Ben to buy a cheap
computer from the pawnshop. Due to the recent events in his life,
Ben was actually inspired to start writing again. It had been over
a week since he last touched a keyboard, and he was brimming with
new ideas.
    Ben sat at the
dining room table; he had been writing all morning. During a break,
he opened up a browser and typed ‘Charles Gringer’ into a search
engine. When the results populated, Ben could not believe his
eyes.
    “Hey, Kyle,
check this out,” Ben said.
    “What is
it?”
    “Read
this.”
    “Charles
Gringer of Calgary wins Alberta’s largest lotto jackpot —
twenty-two million dollars,” Kyle read the headline aloud. He then
skimmed the rest of the article. “So Charles Gringer, a man who you
claim to have never met, wins the lottery, dies the next day, and
then for no apparent reason, decides to leave everything to an
orphan kid from Cold Lake, who presumably he has no relation
to.”
    “Yeah, that
sounds about right,” Ben said.
    “Where’s the
twenty-two million? Shouldn’t you get that too?”
    “Not sure,
maybe he gave it away to charity.”
    “Aren’t you
his charity of choice?”
    “Maybe he
buried it in the backyard.”
    “This guy was
old, right? Maybe all that digging gave him a heart attack.”
    Kyle was half
kidding, but still, it was a possibility. They both looked at each
other and then bolted to the backyard. They paced around like a
couple of hounds sniffing out a trail. Unfortunately, there were no
disturbances in the land. If Charles Gringer hid the money, it
certainly was not in the backyard. Disappointed, the boys sauntered
back into the house and contemplated their next plan.
    “Wouldn’t the
obvious explanation be that this Gringer guy is related to you
somehow?” Kyle said.
    “I thought
about that, and it still might be a possibility, but it doesn’t
explain why he would do such a kind act for me at the end of his
life. Why not reach out to me earlier?”
    “Who knows?
Maybe he just recently found out you were his grandson or
something.”
    “Hmm, I doubt
it.”
    “I’ve got an
idea. Follow me,” Kyle said.
    “Where are we
going?”
    Kyle did not
respond. He simply marched out the front door, down the porch
steps, and across the yard to the neighbour’s house.
    “Kyle, what
are you doing?” Ben asked.
    “I’m going to
get some answers. Somebody in this neighbourhood must have known
him.”
    Kyle pulled
back the screen on the neighbour’s front door and gave three hard
knocks. They only waited a moment before someone answered.
    “Yes, what can
I do for you?” an old lady asked. She looked slightly nervous that
two unfamiliar young men who did not appear to be selling anything
were standing on her doorstep.
    “Hello ma’am,
my name is Kyle Watson and this here is Benjamin Owen. We just
moved in next door and wanted to introduce ourselves.”
    “Well, hello.
I’m Gladys. Would you boys like to come in?”
    “Sure, we’d
love to,” Kyle said as he looked at Ben and smiled.
    “But we can
only stay for a bit,” Ben added.
    Ben and Kyle
entered Gladys’s home and took notice of the familiar layout. The
furniture was similarly dated, but in much better condition than
theirs. Little figurines and trinkets, which had most likely been
collected over the past fifty years, occupied shelves behind glass
cabinets.
    “Please, have
a seat. I’ll put on a pot of tea.”
    “That would be
great, thank you,” Kyle said. “By the way, this is a lovely home
you have here Ms…