Minneapolis Is Missing?
by
Book Cover & Preview Text
Chapter 1
The ad in the “Agony Column” of the Evening Tribune,
"f o ' T e e
n m i l ezy as w H u p E d s y ll a B u
b Er y A
y y? 2038 hornblend
down up Left lEft left."
It seemed so ridiculous, so silly. How could it be a legitimate lead to
the Beale, the best documented, unrecovered, buried
treasure in the
That ad was in her hand now as she stood vacillating on the bottom step
of a solid if stolid, commercial building on
She made a neat figure that perfectly fitted the caption beneath her
picture in the well thumbed, if still smelling of printer's ink, Senior Class
Annual from San Diego State College.
"Class of the class of '46...Quite simply the prettiest thing at
State ever... and what a shape."
The shape was thinly disguised today in a simple, green wool suit with
white blouse, white gloves, carried not worn, hose and heels, and a little hat,
exactly as prescribed for "Luncheon at The Savoy", Lesson 5 in Miss Chumley's
"Socially Awareness Class for the Unwed “ at State College, with
modifications.
The modifications were Marnie’s own in response
to her quest. The heels were the very stylish hole-through-the-heel wooden
wedgies. And the hat was a close fitting green cloche of her Mother’s with a
feather that came down over one cheek. The appearance she was attempting was an
egalitarian mix of Nancy Drew, Detective, and Theda Bara, Vamp. And she wasn’t sure she had achieved it.
Heads swiveled in appreciation as business types passed up and down the
avenue while she stood, one foot on the lower step, unmindful of the attention,
or accustomed to it.
What to do? And how did she get into this?
Maude Marie Albertson should have been a pseudonym. It was just not Marnie. Marnie could never be a
Maude much less Marie, both family names.
Besides being pretty her prime characteristic was a very low "minimal
ignition temperature". And once ignited, she glowed, and cast a reflected,
happy glow on all about her.
And she liked practically everything. Most anything ignited her.
She liked people, boys mostly, (except that since now newly matriculated
that should read "men"), Australian Sheep dogs, catsup sandwiches,
wind sailing, beach volleyball, water-skiing, parties, party dresses, any color
as long as it was green. Almost everything.
Naturally she could not glow uninterruptedly and when her glow dwindled to
a flicker she had a home grown remedy. She would retreat to a rustic, guest
cabin behind the big family house in fashionable Mission Hills. There she would
eat, sleep and dream her dreams, but mostly eat.
Formats
Book Details
About the Book
Adam Dumphy’s early years in
Undoubtedly the most genuine
treasure in history, the Beale is verified by newspaper accounts, private
letters, even his name on Pawnee Rock,
In the 1819 era T.J. Beale
returned from
With this Dumphy
was able to concoct a lighthearted quest about a treasure hunt in the ‘40s with
people and background of
About the Author
Forced to retire after thirty
years of medical practice Adam Dumphy with time to
read fiction could find nothing that pleased. If his body was house bound his
mind could still soar so he took to writing.
For years he was beaten down by
writing teachers and groveled before his computer and the writing book but
recently he rebelled.
He announced to the world that he
liked novel with little violence. He liked writers who used long words, as they
were smarter than he and worth reading. He liked the omniscient mode as it gave
the writer more freedom. And he adopted T. Jefferson’s
Dictum, “It is a poor word that
can only be spelled in one way.”
He pulled silver fish raddled
manuscripts from moth eaten boxes and decided to publish them just as they
were, just for the fun of it, fun for him and fun for you.