Sedona Law 4 Dave Daren (books for 6 year olds to read themselves .txt) 📖

snapped a photo of my dad holding up the rusty key.

Alex stood on the side and said, “You know where it is. I’ll let you have privacy for this. Tell me what you find.”

“Thanks,” my dad said and motioned to me.

We got in the Jeep, and Alex directed us back behind the produce stand and down a worn, dusty path. We followed the path, until we reached a chain-link fence. We did this in silence, not even Jimi was along for this ride. We drove along the sides of the fence for a while, until the fence ended at a large open dusty field. Grass shrubs popped up along the way, but it was mainly open field. I took it this was the field Jimi appeared to Alex in.

Then, way up in the distance, some hundred yards away, I spotted a brown wooden structure.

“That’s it,” he pointed.

We reached the wooden structure, which was behind a wood and chain-link fence. We drove through the gate, to find two glorified sheds, with four divisions each.

“It’s locker four,” he said.

In old faded stickers, I made out a number four on one of the doors. He parked right in front of it.

We got out of the car and approached the door. It had an old rusted padlock, none of these fancy circular or combination locks they use for storage rooms these days. He tried the key in the lock, but they were both too rusty, and bits of oxidized metal flaked off on his hands.

“You try,” he said.

I grabbed the lock and inserted the key, and I could feel the resistance of decades of unuse. After several attempts, I got the key all the way inside, but it wouldn’t budge.

“It won’t come out, either,” I said as I tried to pull it either way.

“I was afraid this would happen,” he said. “I didn’t want to do it this way because it’s Jimi, but you know.”

He went back to the Jeep and rummaged around while I messed with the lock some more. He came back with a hammer.

“How’s that going to help?” I asked.

He gave the lock three swift bangs to the side and then popped the lock off.

I laughed. “Well, that will do it.”

He smiled. “Alright. What have we got here? You ready for this?”

“Ready as I’ll ever be,” I said.

We bent down and together pulled open the bay door. To our surprise, there was nothing in there. We stood in shock for a few minutes. Then we entered the bare space. Then, we found against one wall, an old, rusting garden hoe. The vintage typography on the manufacturer’s logo, looked like it was about the right time period to have been Jimi’s.

My dad grabbed the tool and knelt down to his knees on the concrete ground. He stayed there in silence for several minutes while I looked around the space.

“Okay, Jimi,” he said.

“What?” I replied.

He was quiet for a few minutes, and then he spoke softly, “I hear Jimi. He wants me to start a garden.”

Chapter 15

We left Jimi’s storage room and drove back to Sedona largely empty handed, save for the sixty-year-old gardening tool in the backseat. My dad, however, was anything but somber.

“Now, tomatoes are the most versatile,” he rambled, “and potatoes, well, they can grow in almost anything…”

I checked out once my phone beeped with a call. It was Vicki.

“Hey,” she said. “How’s Jimi?”

“Good,” I said. “We got a hoe and some sex tea.”

“Okay, what now?” she replied after a brief pause.

I laughed. “Jimi’s locker was a bust. All that was in there was an old gardening hoe, presumably from the sixties.”

“Wow, a vintage gardening hoe!” she exclaimed with mock enthusiasm.

“It was not a bust,” my dad yelled to Vicki.

“Dad says to tell you it wasn’t a bust,” I said. “He says Jimi wants him to start a garden. So, we’ve been talking about growing tomatoes.”

“Jimi said that, huh?” she answered. “Well, then, by all means, start a garden. Maybe that will go with the goat.”

“Still at it with that goat,” I said.

“We could name it Billy,” she said.

“If we get a goat,” I said, “we at least have to come up with an original name for it.”

“You’re getting a goat?” my dad asked.

I laughed. “No, Vicki just thinks it will solve our lawn care problem.”

“You have a lawn care problem?” my dad asked. “I can tell you how to fix that.”

“Aren’t you getting grass now?” I asked.

“Yeah,” he grumbled. “But just in the back, so your mother can have her yoga ladies over.”

“So,” I told Vicki, “did you just call me to name our imaginary goat?”

“No,” she said. “I called you because I’m at a vortex.”

“You went to a vortex?” I asked.

Sedona is known for its vortexes, points of natural beauty that supposedly hold cosmic energy and have healing and meditative powers.

“Tell her I’m proud of her,” my dad said.

“Dad’s stoked,” I told her. “Why did you do that?”

“Well, the dancers all wanted to go,” she said. “They thought it would help them release Beyo. So, long story short, Landon and AJ knew some meditation guide or something, and so they arranged to take them, and they invited me.”

“How did it go?” I asked.

“We just got here,” she said. “I thought if I went, maybe the cosmic energy spirit guides would come to me and tell me who killed Beyo.”

“Or the psychic,” I said.

“Or Jimi Hendrix,” she quipped.

“Between all of them,” I said, “we should solve the murder by the end of the day.”

“Fingers crossed,” she said.

I laughed. “See you.”

“See ya,” she replied.

“Vicki’s at a vortex, huh?” my dad asked.

“Yeah,” I said. “Julianna and her