{"id":14592,"date":"2018-03-02T11:57:37","date_gmt":"2018-03-02T16:57:37","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.portlandmonthly.com\/portmag\/?p=14592"},"modified":"2018-03-02T12:01:15","modified_gmt":"2018-03-02T17:01:15","slug":"the-mystery-of-the-mystery-meat-sandwiches-or-the-secret-of-the-old-picnic-basket-or-the-clue-in-the-checkered-napkin","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.portlandmonthly.com\/portmag\/the-mystery-of-the-mystery-meat-sandwiches-or-the-secret-of-the-old-picnic-basket-or-the-clue-in-the-checkered-napkin\/","title":{"rendered":"The Mystery of the Mystery Meat Sandwiches or The Secret of the Old Picnic Basket or The Clue in the Checkered Napkin"},"content":{"rendered":"

February\/March 2018 | view this story as a .pdf<\/a><\/p>\n

By Joan Connor<\/span><\/p>\n

\"Fiction-FM18t\"Nancy Drew and her chums, Bess and George, clambered out of the blue roadster. Bess\u2019 eyes sparkled. George\u2019s eyes twinkled.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cLet\u2019s go!\u201d Nancy exclaimed exclamatorily with an exclamation point.<\/span><\/p>\n

Togo the terrier leapt excitedly into Nancy\u2019s friendly arms.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cHypers,\u201d George, age 16, said, chuckling.<\/span><\/p>\n

Suddenly Bess, eyelids fluttering, eagerly grabbed the picnic basket from the roadster. \u201cWe are going on a picnic. Hurray,\u201d Bess said with a giggle which is more difficult than you might think especially if it is a simultaneous action.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cParty picnic, party picnic,\u201d Bess hissed.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cI just love picnics, don\u2019t you?\u201d George asked, chuckling.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cI do, I do,\u201d Bess replied, smiling.<\/span><\/p>\n

The chums started down the grassy path, Bess swinging the picnic basket carelessly. Bess, blonde and plump, smiled happily at George who walked happily beside her, slender, dark, short-haired, a tomboy.<\/span><\/p>\n

Our young sleuth, with blonde hair with reddish highlights, did not care that George was a lesbian, a butch lesbian. She, George, and Bess were chums and cousins besides. And Nancy had a boyfriend, Ned Nickerson, a tall, good-looking, athletic young man, 6’2″, with dark hair and brown eyes. His eyes also sparkled. Ned was not with them on the picnic.<\/span><\/p>\n

When Ned was not in school he lived with his parents, James and Edith in Mapleton. He sold insurance in the summer. It was summer.<\/span><\/p>\n

A scream pierced the night. This was surprising because it was day, but something had to happen soon because this was a mystery.<\/span><\/p>\n

Bess froze in horror. \u201cWho screamed?\u201d she asked fitfully. Nancy furrowed her brow. George answered fearfully, \u201cHypers, I don\u2019t know.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

Nancy\u2019s heart pounded. \u201cKeep walking,\u201d she ordered tersely. \u201cHead for the old oak tree. On the hill we can be on the lookout for clues.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

Bess whimpered fearfully, but the three chums kept walking toward the old oak tree. Togo the terrier tailed them tinily. His eyes also sparkled.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cWill we still have a picnic?\u201d Bess wailed nervously.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cI hope so,\u201d George declared kindly.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cKeep walking,\u201d Nancy murmured dreamily.<\/span><\/p>\n

The three chums climbed the hill. Togo ran merrily with them. His eyes still sparkled. (What did he know? He was a dog.)<\/span><\/p>\n

At the top of the hill, Bess set the picnic basket down with a giggle. (Who knows why?) Nancy looked around. Sleuths always look around. They\u2019re sleuths.<\/span><\/p>\n

Bess opened the picnic basket. She spread out the cloth. She removed the food and gaily checkered napkins from the basket and set them out on the cloth. \u201cAre you ready to eat,\u201d she asked plumply.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cI am,\u201d George replied. She sat down next to Bess.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019ll keep watch,\u201d Nancy said. She had to; you know why.<\/span><\/p>\n

Bess ate her sandwich. George ate her sandwich. \u201cWhat kind of sandwich is this?\u201d George demanded.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cI don\u2019t know,\u201d Nancy replied.<\/span><\/p>\n

Nancy did not pack the picnic basket. Hannah Gruen, housekeeper to blue-eyed Carson Drew, attorney, since Nancy\u2019s mother died when Nancy was ten (or three \u2013it depends upon the version; Carolyn Keene had multiple personality disorder ), packed the picnic basket.<\/span><\/p>\n

The young sleuth removed a sandwich from the basket. She peeled it apart. She sniffed the mystery meat. \u201cHmm,\u201d she explained.\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cIt is not chicken salad. It is not tuna fish. It is not red herring. It is not deviled ham. It,\u201d she declared, \u201cis a mystery.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

Bess noisily ate her mystery sandwich. George put hers back in Hannah\u2019s basket.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cI wish that Ned Nickerson were here,\u201d Nancy said, \u201cso we could picnic on angel cake and fruit juice, our favorite snack.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

Ned Nickerson, who attended Emerson College (not the writing program one) and was two years older than Nancy, was not there.<\/span><\/p>\n

A scream rang out. A violent storm approached the hill.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cLook out,\u201d Nancy called. \u201cTake shelter under the old oak.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019m a wreck,\u201d Bess said, quavering.<\/span><\/p>\n

The chums leaned against the trunk of the tree. The violent storm passed.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cWho or what was that?\u201d George asked queerly.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cI don\u2019t know\u2026yet,\u201d Nancy replied. She wished Ned Nickerson were there. He spoke Cantonese. He lived in Hong Kong on college exchange. He maybe was in the U.S. Intelligence Service. A member of Omega Chi Epsilon fraternity with his friends Burt Eddleton and Dane Evans, he could help Nancy Drew solve the mystery.<\/p>\n

Bess walked forward to get another sandwich. \u201cHey,\u201d she demanded. \u201cWhere are the sandwiches?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

Nancy looked around. Where were the sandwiches?<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cHey,\u201d Bess demanded. \u201cWhere is the picnic basket?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

Where was the picnic basket?<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cAnd where,\u201d Bess demanded, \u201care the gaily colored checkered napkins?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

Where were the gaily colored checkered napkins?<\/span><\/p>\n

And where was Togo?<\/span><\/p>\n

Vanished.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

Can Nancy solve the mystery? Find out in The Tell-Tale Togo or The Vanishing Picnic or WOLVES!\u00a0<\/a>Joan Connor is a professor at Ohio University.\u00a0 <\/span>She has published four\u00a0collections of short stories and a collection of essays.<\/span><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Nancy Drew and her chums, Bess and George, clambered out of the blue roadster. Bess\u2019 eyes sparkled. George\u2019s eyes twinkled. \u201cLet\u2019s go!\u201d Nancy exclaimed exclamatorily with an exclamation point.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":14611,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_et_pb_use_builder":"","_et_pb_old_content":"","_et_gb_content_width":"","footnotes":""},"categories":[112],"tags":[191],"class_list":["post-14592","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-fiction","tag-februarymarch-2018"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.portlandmonthly.com\/portmag\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/14592","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.portlandmonthly.com\/portmag\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.portlandmonthly.com\/portmag\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.portlandmonthly.com\/portmag\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.portlandmonthly.com\/portmag\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=14592"}],"version-history":[{"count":4,"href":"https:\/\/www.portlandmonthly.com\/portmag\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/14592\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":14660,"href":"https:\/\/www.portlandmonthly.com\/portmag\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/14592\/revisions\/14660"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.portlandmonthly.com\/portmag\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/14611"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.portlandmonthly.com\/portmag\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=14592"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.portlandmonthly.com\/portmag\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=14592"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.portlandmonthly.com\/portmag\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=14592"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}