A Christmas Mystery Ch. 01-02

I recently wrote this story but it was really only half a story. I hope everyone who read the original will read this new revised and completed story. As I said before, it was a challenge I gave myself to write a Christmas story different from any other. I think I succeeded and I hope you will enjoy it.

My name is Mark, I'm 26, an only child, and I'm from a small town in Bedford County, Virginia. You know the kind of place. Friendly and everyone knows everyone. Now, Bedford County isn't known for much but there is one thing that just about everyone in Bedford County knows about ... buried treasure. In 1885 a group of three codes was published called The Beale Papers describing a great treasure in gold and silver that was buried somewhere in Bedford County. But, like I said, it was in code so you had to break the code to find the treasure. If you are interested in seeing what I wasted weeks of my life on, search Wikipedia for Beale ciphers.

Anyway, I eventually gave up my dream to become rich and famous by breaking a code that might have been a hoax in the first place and started to really think about what I wanted to do with my life. After high school I didn't really have a plan so I just took odd jobs while trying to figure it out.

One night, during dinner with my parents, I made a decision.

"Mom and dad, I want to go to college."

My dad was the first to respond.

"Well, that's a shock. When did you decide that?"

"I've been thinking about it for a while now. I can't see myself working at low paying jobs for the rest of my life just because I never got past high school."

"It's about time you grew up. I thought you were just going to work at one of those fast food places and live with us for the rest of your life."

My mom then entered the conversation.

"Honey, but where will you go?"

"I'm not sure yet but I don't want to study anywhere close to home."

"Why not? Have we done something wrong?"

"No, Mom, you haven't done anything wrong. I just need to find out what the world is really like outside Bedford County."

"But then, when will we see you?"

"I promise, I'll return every year during Christmas and summer recess."

The expression on my mom's face said it all. I knew she was happy that I wanted to go to college but not happy that the college would not be close enough so that I could still live at home while going to school. There was no problem convincing my dad but It took about a month before I finally convinced my mom that I really needed to do this.

Small town life was not really what I wanted but I wasn't ready to trade it for big city life either. I settled on the University of California in Santa Barbara, a decision that changed my life more than I could have imagined. Some people go to college to party but that isn't me, so no wild drinking or sex orgies. I guess I was your typical, boring, serious student and I still had small town morals. It was in my third year at the college that I took a history course with a professor named Dr. Harold Marcuse, a man with a passion for the subject. That was when I knew that history would be my calling too so, one day after class, I approached him.

"Dr. Marcuse?"

"Yes, Mark, what can I do for you?"

"I am considering making history my college major. Would you be willing to talk to me about my career choices if I do that?"

"Sure. Can you meet me at the campus coffee shop at noon?"

"Perfect. My next class isn't until 2:30. See you there."

I arrived at the coffee shop before Dr Marcuse and, as was my habit, I started work on a crossword puzzle in a newspaper I had picked up. I still loved puzzles even though I had no luck with the Beale codes.

"Mark?"

"Oh, sorry professor, I didn't notice you. I was just doing a crossword puzzle. Please sit down."

"Do you do crossword puzzles often?"

"Yeah, I've always enjoyed puzzles, for as long as I can remember."

"Maybe after our talk about careers you can help me with a puzzle that I inherited."

That remark really threw me. A puzzle that he inherited? I could barely concentrate on the professor's words about careers in education and government. After Dr. Marcuse finished, I just had to say something.

"Professor, thank you for taking the time to talk to me, but now I really want to know about the puzzle."

"Well, it was passed down from my grandfather to me. It was supposedly given to him by a very good friend. Unfortunately nobody has been able to solve it yet. Would you like to see it?"

I could barely contain myself as I said "Yes."

"Okay, I'll bring a copy of it to our next class. I have to go now. Nice talking to you, Mark."

I don't know how long I just sat there. A puzzle, maybe a hundred years old. I knew I wouldn't be able to sleep much. All I could think about was the puzzle.

After our next class he handed me an envelope.

"Mark, I hope you have better luck than our family has had in solving this puzzle."

"Professor, is there anything else you can tell me about the puzzle?"

"The story that I was told is that it was handed to my grandfather Herbert Marcuse on Christmas Eve in 1963 and it had been in the possession of the other person's family for 100 years."

"Do you know who the other person was?"

"Unfortunately that information has been lost over time."

With the envelope in my possession I walked nervously back to my dorm room. I was lucky enough not to have a roommate to distract me. I had so many questions. By my calculations this puzzle was around 160 years old. Was it real or a hoax like the Beale papers? Why did the person write a puzzle? Who was the unknown friend and was giving it away on Christmas Eve important? My mind was going crazy and I hadn't even opened the envelope yet. I don't know why but my hands were shaking as I carefully opened the envelope.

This paper has been included with my will and is to be given to my son Benjamin. I have always been a private person and my greatest accomplishment was published anonymously by someone without my knowledge. Much later I tried to claim ownership. Many people believe me but there are some who do not. At this point in my life I don't care what the rest of the world believes. I just would like my family to know the truth so I have included this message. The message is just for family so it has been written in code but I am confident Benjamin will figure it out.

Troy, New York

December 23, 1823

9, 152, 16, 8, 1, 90, 47, 37, 2, 59, 6, 48, 10, 3, 205, 7, 25, 104, 127, 88, 53, 78, 5, 38, 35, 20, 7, 47, 53, 2, 4, 127, 3, 127, 85, 52,8, 2, 43, 1, 7, 123, 160, 274, 56, 4, 1, 15, 16, 17, 104, 48, 140, 243, 267, 19, 20, 9, 203, 198, 17, 46, 8, 1, 6, 14, 7, 168, 169, 123, 4, 3, 259, 8, 52, 86, 87, 167, 57, 3, 259, 1, 51, 43, 219, 114, 13, 14, 6, 9, 8, 167, 88, 56, 57, 259, 3, 25, 123, 203, 267, 219, 3, 264, 8, 12, 123, 47, 102, 123, 1, 202, 4, 245, 33, 46, 10, 3, 51, 114, 1, 48, 114, 126, 99, 51, 33, 7, 25, 162, 47, 1, 51, 34, 3, 218, 252, 162, 243, 16, 126, 158, 159

I now realized how important this puzzle was to the family. It was obvious that Benjamin never figured out his father's last message and, in an effort to solve it, the family passed it to a friend in the hope he could do what they couldn't in 100 years. I quickly looked at both sides of the page. Neither side had the writer's name. My job was not going to be easy. I just looked at the paper in disbelief. It was a code like the Beale papers ... all numbers. The trick to solving the Beale papers was finding something called a key document. One person chooses any document, and writes a number next to each letter of it in order. Then the person uses those numbers to write a message. The person getting the message then uses a copy of the same document to change the numbers back to letters. In the Beale papers one key document was the Declaration of Independence. So, in one of the Beale papers the numbers 115,73,24,807 could be translated by writing the 115th letter, the 73rd letter, the 24th letter, and the 807th letter of the Declaration of Independence. I failed at finding any other key documents for the Beale papers. How was I going to find the key document for this one? My head hurt at the possibilities. Maybe sleep would help, I thought, so I just put the paper down and closed my eyes.

Morning came quickly and I knew I couldn't tackle the codes until after my classes so I just dressed, shaved, brushed my teeth and prepared for another school day. When I returned home, I tried to make some sense of the letter. At least I had a new clue. The writer had a son named Benjamin but I didn't think that got me any closer to the answer. What else did I know? The letter was given to Herbert Marcuse in 1963 after being in the other person's family for 100 years. So that gets us to 1863. Did the key document have anything to do with the Civil War? Maybe the Gettysburg Address or The Emancipation Proclamation. I'll have to pull them up on my laptop and print them out. Thank God for technology. I don't have to spend a whole day at the college library.

It didn't take long to realize that those two documents were not the key document.

I then thought that maybe I could get some information on Herbert Marcuse on Wikipedia. Maybe there is some mention of his friends. Unfortunately that was a dead end too. It listed him as a German philosopher who influenced many people but there was no mention of his friends. I needed another break to clear my mind.

After my next class with Dr Marcuse he came up to me.

"Any luck yet, Mark?"

"Sorry, Dr Marcuse, just a few leads that haven't gotten me closer."

"Well, don't get discouraged. The secret has remained locked away for a long time."

"I'm not ready to give up yet. Hell, I just started."

As I walked away I had the feeling that there was something in the letter that I missed but I didn't know what it was. It was exactly 3:15 AM when I woke up from a deep sleep. They say the brain works even when you are sleeping and I realized what it was about the letter that bothered me. The letter was included with the man's will around 1863 but the letter was dated December 23, 1823. That had to be important. I'll have to investigate if anything memorable happened on that date.

Researching a date is not usually as easy as researching a name but a miracle happened when I googled December 23, 1823. There were links to The Troy Sentinel newspaper. Something happened in Troy, New York on December 23, 1823 and Troy, New York was written on the mystery letter. That couldn't be a coincidence! I clicked on the internet link and there it was, on page 3 of the Troy Sentinel, mixed in with all of the regular news. It was a poem. The newspaper admitted that although they did not know who wrote it, they liked it so much that they printed it anyway. It was titled "A Visit from St. Nicholas" although we all call it now "'Twas The Night Before Christmas". I quickly googled the poem and printed it out. When I started to use it as the key document I knew I had found the right document but something was wrong. Parts of the message appeared but some of it came out as garbage. I had to think. What did I do wrong? Then it hit me. The poem printed in the newspaper might have spelling differences from the version I printed out. This time I printed out the version shown in the Troy Sentinel and I started substituting letters for numbers. Slowly the message appeared.

Troy, New York

December 23, 1823

I don't know who gave my poem to the newspaper. I wrote it just for you, my children.

There is a first draft copy behind our family painting. It is my legacy to you.

Clement Clarke Moore

I don't know how I got to sleep that night. My adrenaline level was through the roof. Now the pieces fell into place. Wikipedia lists Benjamin as one of the sons of Clement Clarke Moore and Herbert Marcuse was listed as a good friend of Barrington Moore Jr who was one of Clement Moore's descendants.

I practically ran to class the next day to show Dr. Marcuse the translation. He promised to try to contact members of the Moore family. Christmas break is just around the corner and what a perfect Christmas present this will be. I was exhausted but happy to know that the Moore family would finally learn what Clement Clarke Moore's final message to them was.

Christmas recess starts tomorrow and it was important to call my mom to let her know I would be coming home for the holidays like I said I always would. As I dialed home, I thought about how intense the last two weeks had been.

"Hi, Mom."

"Mark! It's so good to hear your voice. The house seems empty since you left for California. How long has it been now, four years?"

"You know it has only been two, well almost three, and I always come home for Christmas and summer recess."

"It's not enough. You know I wanted you to go to a local college so you could be home more."

"I know, but something amazing happened to me while at college here. I'll tell you all about it when I get home. Gotta go now but I'll see you soon. Love you."

"Love you too. Bye."

The plane ride from California to Virginia went smoothly and for once I didn't mind all of the Christmas music playing in the airports like I usually did. I can never understand why they start playing Christmas music before Thanksgiving. After a while it can be too much of a good thing, you know?

I caught an Uber ride from the airport to my home. The town looked the same, the house looked the same, nothing seemed to change no matter how long I was away. That's why I had to go to a college in California. I needed a change of scenery.

My mom heard the car on the gravel road before I even got there and she was at the front door to greet me.

"Need any help with your bags?"

"No, I got this."

With that, my mom ran over and hugged me. No matter how old you get, you always treasure those moments. She then yelled "Henry, come out and welcome your son."

Dad just opened a window and yelled "Come back inside or put a coat on. It's not summer anymore, you know."

Mom just rolled her eyes and walked back into the house with me.

"Okay, put your stuff away in your room, dinner will be ready in about 30 minutes. I cooked all of your favorites."

"Trying to bribe me so I stay home?"

"Would I do that?"

"I'm not even going to answer that."

After putting my stuff away I told my mom and dad the story about the 160-year-old message that Clement Clarke Moore had left his family, and the fact that I finally solved the puzzle just days ago. Now, you have to understand that it was always hard for me to impress my dad. Praise came reluctantly. It was as if achievements were expected. They weren't a big deal to be congratulated for, but this was the exception.

"Son, I'm proud of you."

Those few words meant as much as the hugs that I got from mom.

The rest of the meal was eaten in silence. It's not good to talk with your mouth full, and I was really enjoying the meal.

It's amazing how fast news travels in a small town. My mom must have had her ear glued to the telephone telling everyone in town what I had done. I couldn't walk anywhere in town without someone mentioning it. In high school I was nobody special, but now I am a celebrity. I have to keep reminding myself that I am the same person now that I was then.

Christmas recess flew by. Before I knew it, it was time to return to college. At least this time the airport had stopped playing Christmas music.

When I arrived back at school I started to wonder if Dr. Marcuse had been successful in contacting any members of the Moore family. I'm not in his class anymore and we never exchanged phone numbers so I will just have to search for him on campus.

On the first day of classes, I walked into the admissions office.

"Can anyone tell me where I might find Dr. Marcuse?"

Somebody said that they saw him in the faculty lounge down the hall so that would be my first stop. I quietly entered the lounge and walked over to the professor. As I got closer, I saw a concerned look on his face, not the happy expression I was expecting.

"What's wrong, professor?"

"Mark, I have been doing research on the internet every day during recess. There is no easy way to say this. I can't find any living relatives of Clement Clarke Moore. We're too late. There's nobody to tell our story to."

If my jaw could have dropped to the floor at that moment it would have.

"None? Are you sure?"

"I looked through his genealogy using the internet until I was cross eyed. You have no idea how many times I saw the names Benjamin Moore and Clement Moore in his family tree. At times it was very confusing as to who I was actually reading about. I kept asking myself why did they keep using the same names? Anyway, It turns out that many of the descendants of Clement Clarke Moore either died young or never married or didn't have children. As far as I can tell, Barrington Moore Jr. was the last living Moore. He died in 2005 with no children."

"That's sad, professor. They all died without ever knowing the truth. Maybe that's why Barrington Moore Jr. passed the letter to Herbert Marcuse. He knew that he was the last living Moore and Herbert Marcuse was his last hope to solve the puzzle before Barrington died."

"It looks like it, Mark."

As I left the room I thought about how my world had just been shaken. I slowly walked across the campus to my room in the dorm. I needed to lie down after this. Lately it seemed I needed to lie down a lot. Unfortunately there was another surprise waiting for me when I got there. While I was home during the Christmas break the college assigned me a roommate. As I entered the room I heard his voice, talking a mile a minute, all bubbly and enthusiastic and I really was not in the mood for bubbly and enthusiastic.

"Hi, you must be Mark. I'm your new roommate. My name is Jacob, but everyone calls me Jake. I talk a lot when I'm nervous. I hope you don't mind. My last roommate said my talking drove him crazy so I asked the college if it was possible to change roommates. They checked, saw you didn't have a roommate, and sent me here. I hope..."

"Whoa, Jake. Take a breath. Just give me a minute to adjust to having a roommate. I have had this room to myself for over two years."

"Okay."

"Look Jake, it's not you. I am just having a bad day so can you turn down the volume a bit and relax?"

"I'll try."

"Good, and later we can discuss things like what to do when one of us would like to be alone in the room, but right now I just need to lie down."

"Sure."

"Jake, where are you from?"

"Pennsylvania."

"Philadelphia?"

"No, a small town you probably never heard of."

"Well, we have that in common."

"What's your major?"

"Journalism. I always wanted to be an investigative reporter."

"Jake, this may be the best place the college could have sent you. Sit down for a minute. I've got a story you won't believe and right now I might need a good investigator."

For the next 20 minutes I filled Jake in on everything from meeting Dr. Marcuse to learning about the dying message to solving the code and finally finding out that no member of the Moore family was alive to hear the truth.

"Wow Mark, that's some story."

"I know. But that can't be the end. There has to be something more that I can do, I just don't know what."

"Mark, what happened to the painting?"

"What?"

"What happened to the painting of the family with the poem behind it?"

"I don't know."

"Maybe we can find the painting."

"Jake, you're a genius."

"So, Mark when do we start? I can't believe I'm going to be involved in something this important."

"Today has been a roller coaster of emotions for me but maybe we can start tomorrow, partner."

When I woke up the next day, it took a while to adjust to having a new roommate. I quietly dressed and left Jake still sleeping. I decided to grab a coffee at the campus coffee shop before my first class and when I entered the shop I saw Dr. Marcuse.