Private Detective Ryan Patterson and the Sugar Shack Mystery

by Eva Apelqvist

Private Detective Ryan Patterson had not visited his aunts Marla and Billie since they moved to the country. Until now, that is.

He was unpacking his suitcase in the cozy attic nook when Aunt Marla called from the entryway. Leaning over the railing, Ryan looked down into his aunt’s sunny, freckled face.

“Any new cases lately?” Aunt Marla asked.

“You never know,” Ryan said, smiling.

“I’m leaving for the sugar bush, honey,” Aunt Marla said. “I’ll be back in a while. Aunt Billie is out back, babysitting the sugar shack.”

Ryan smiled to himself. He pulled out his pen and his notebook. A.M. puts on overalls and mud boots, he wrote. A.B. is babysitting a shack???

Ryan ran downstairs and put on his own rubber boots and a warm coat. He jogged to keep Aunt Marla’s four-wheeler in sight as it bumped across a muddy field. Behind the four-wheeler, Aunt Marla was pulling a cart with a bathtub-sized plastic container. She disappeared around a bend at the far end of the field.

Ryan continued in among the maple trees. The sound of the four-wheeler’s engine was replaced by something else. “Ping, ping, ping.” What was that noise? It sounded like dripping on metal. Through patches of melting snow, Ryan trudged toward the sound. Then he saw it. Metal bucket with large lid hanging from tree, he wrote.

Carefully, Ryan lifted the lid. A clear liquid was dripping from a spout coming out of the tree trunk: “Ping, ping, ping.” This was getting stranger and stranger. The sound was also coming from behind him. When he turned, he noticed metal pails on trees all around.

Now Ryan could see his aunt weaving her way back through the trees, the four-wheeler idling on the path near her. He hid behind a thick tree trunk. A.M. walks from tree to tree. Empties metal into large plastic container behind four-wheeler.

Soon Aunt Marla got back on the four-wheeler and started toward the house, driving more carefully now.

But instead of going home, Aunt Marla steered the four-wheeler to the shack next to the house. Ryan followed behind. Aunt Marla got out, opened the wide doors, then backed into the building, until the container she had been pulling was completely hidden inside. Ryan edged closer. Smoke was rising from a chimney on the shack roof.

Mmm, the shack smelled of campfire smoke and spring air, and something else, something sweet that made Ryan’s stomach grumble.

“The Sugar Shack” read a sign on the building. So this is where Aunt Billie was babysitting.

The door to the shack was open. Ryan tiptoed closer and peeked around the four-wheeler into the building. It was warm in there, like a sauna, and steam was rising from the shiny machine.

Aunt Billie puts hose in container with tree liquid. Other end of hose goes to shiny machine, Ryan wrote. It sure didn’t look much like babysitting.

Oh no—Aunt Marla turned around suddenly, as though she had heard something. Ryan ducked around the corner of the building and ran back to the house. Had she noticed him?

Back in his room, Ryan pulled out his notes, still panting. He was pretty good at solving mysteries, but this was a tricky one.

After only a few minutes, Ryan heard the door downstairs open and close. A moment later, Aunt Marla called to him from the kitchen. “Hey Ryan, I have a treat for you.”

Ryan brought his notebook and his pen to the kitchen. But there was nothing suspicious about what Aunt Marla was doing—scooping vanilla ice cream. When she was done, she brought out a glass bottle with a thick, golden brown liquid, and drizzled the liquid on Ryan’s ice cream. Private Detective Ryan Patterson smiled. Then he opened his notebook.

“Aren’t you going to eat?” Aunt Marla asked.

"Yes, but I have to finish a case first,” Ryan said. He uncapped his pen and wrote in his book: sugar bush, mud boots, metal pails on trees, sugar shack with shiny machine that needs babysitting = maple syrup.

“Yum,” Ryan said, and took a large spoonful of ice cream with maple syrup. The smoky sweetness of the syrup blending with the cold vanilla made him close his eyes. “This is the best syrup I’ve ever had.”

“Once you’ve settled in, I’ll show you how we make it,” Aunt Marla said.

“That will be fun.” Ryan smiled.