We’re pleased to announce the winner of the March WWWC: Bon Henry-Edwards! Responding to the prompt ‘mystery wrapped in enigma’, Bon’s lighthearted piece, ‘A Mystery, Wrapped in an Enigma, Wrapped in a Delicious Quesadilla’, takes us on a delightful treasure-hunt with heart.

Read her winning piece below.

A Mystery, Wrapped in an Enigma, Wrapped in a Delicious Quesadilla

At the end of the cul-de-sac, opposite the train station, stood a large sign atop a small food truck.

THE MYSTERY QUESADILLA – Best Lunch in Town. Probably.

The truck was a riot of colour. Dancing chilis decorated one side, and the other showed a map of Mexico. The owner, Mr Alejandro Hechicero, wore two waistcoats at all times: one under his apron, one on top. If you wanted to order, there was no bell, just an old-fashioned bicycle horn.

Most people ignored it. Adults pretended it was invisible. Kids avoided it. Only the uni students stopped, their colourful hair and clothes matching the truck.

To twelve-year-old Marco Jones, it was fascinating. His world was grey and boring, but The Mystery Quesadilla wasn’t. It was a puzzle begging to be solved, and Marco loved mysteries. He loved following footprints, noises in the shed, socks stolen in the wash. He loved mysterious food.

His mum used to call him ‘nosy-spy’ when he listened to her phone calls. But she’d smiled, so Marco knew she didn’t mind. Dad didn’t talk on the phone, or at all. And he didn’t cook. The thought of quesadillas made Marco’s mouth water.

Marco passed the truck on his way home. He was new to the neighbourhood, and only really knew the routes from his dad’s house to the station and the library. He wanted to explore. He’d just been too sad, too tired. The Mystery Quesadilla was the first thing to spark his interest.

The horn HONKED! when he squeezed it. Hechicero slid into view, dark eyes sparkling and moustache wriggling.

‘Welcome,’ he cried. ‘Would you like a quesadilla?’

‘Yes, please.’ Marco’d barely eaten and he was starving.

Hechicero rested his elbows on the counter. ‘Would you like the mystery quesadilla?’

‘Um … what’s in it?’

Hechicero leaned in closer. Marco did too. He felt like a spy.

‘It is a mystery, wrapped in an enigma.’

Marco didn’t care that it didn’t answer his question. ‘That sounds amazing.’

Hechicero nodded. He pulled a curtain across the window with a swish.

When the quesadilla arrived, it looked ordinary. Golden tortilla. Melted cheese. Marco took a bite. Flavour exploded in his mouth, and he groaned in culinary delight. Meat, cumin, paprika, garlic, onion. Marco swallowed and took another massive bite. On his third, something strange happened.

Crunch! Within the tortilla was a piece of … paper? What was this? Why was it in his food? Marco unfolded the note, which read, CLUE 1: THE CAT KNOWS.

Marco frowned. ‘The cat knows what?’

‘What?’ echoed a voice behind him. Marco turned to see his best friend, Ava Chen. Marco showed her the note and passed her the quesadilla. Ava took a bite and groaned.

‘Your lunch tastes like heaven and it gives clues?’

‘Yep,’ said Marco, taking his quesadilla back. Normally he’d share but it was just too good.

‘That’s either very exciting, or very unsanitary.’

Marco rolled his eyes. He didn’t care. The mystery was more important.

‘D’you see a cat anywhere?’

Ava pointed. On top of a powerbox sat a round orange cat. Marco swore it hadn’t been there before.

‘Hello,’ Marco said. The cat stared.

‘I don’t think it speaks English,’ Ava said. ‘You speak cat?’

Marco gave her a look. He didn’t say she was silly. The look did that. He turned his attention back to the cat. There was something around its neck. A collar with a brass tag.

‘The collar!’

They spent several minutes approaching, pretending they were just chilling, enjoying the scenery. When they got close enough, Marco held out some delicious quesadilla meat. The cat pounced, eating straight from his hand. Marco understood the feeling. He had two bites left and he wanted to savour them.

Ava read the tag. CLUE 2: FIND WHAT WOBBLES.

‘That’s not very useful.’

The cat blinked. Marco and Ava blinked back. It settled down to nap and they began searching the cul-de-sac. Marco chewed his quesadilla. One bite left.

‘What wobbles?’ he muttered. ‘Jelly?’

Ava gave him a look. ‘See any jelly?’

They tested things for wobbliness. The fence. A nearby gum tree. Nothing, until Marco leaned against a street sign, sighing. It wobbled, sending him tumbling.

Ava ran over and knelt at its base. ‘Hey, there’s tape here.’

It was hidden by fallen leaves but still legible. Another note. CLUE 3: THE ANSWER HIDES WHERE STORIES SLEEP.

‘The library!’

The library was one of the only good things about moving in with his dad. He’d thought about sleeping there a few times. It was definitely where stories slept. Marco and Ava hurried over.

‘This is convenient,’ said Ava as Marco swallowed the last bite of quesadilla. ‘I’m supposed to be here for Mandarin lessons.’

She signed herself in, but didn’t go to the tutorial room. She made a face at it instead: tongue out, eyes crossed. Marco covered his smile with his hand. He’d missed Ava. Seeing her had made today the best time he’d had in weeks.

‘Where exactly do stories sleep?’ Marco whispered.

‘In the books?’ Ava guessed. ‘Come on, let’s check.’

Mystery books. Adventure books. Romance books Ava declared were ‘Yuck!’ Finally, Marco noticed an envelope peeking from a book titled: 1001 Lullabies for Sleepless Souls. Inside the envelope … a note. CLUE 4: CHECK OUT THE BOOK. SHOW THE CHEF.

Ava crossed her arms. ‘This whole treasure hunt leads back to lunch?’

‘I think so.’

‘I’m not mad,’ Ava shrugged. ‘I want my own quesadilla.’

Marco laughed. ‘Shouldn’t you go to your Mandarin class?’

‘I signed in. As long as I’m here for grandma to pick me up, it’ll be fine.’

Book in hand, they hurried back to the food truck. Ava squeezed the horn. HONK! Hechicero appeared from behind the curtain.

‘Aha! You have discovered the clues?’

‘Yes, I think so,’ Marco nodded.

Hechicero studied the children and tapped his chin, smiling. ‘I suspected you’d be up to the challenge.’ Pride inflated Marco’s chest.

‘Why hide clues in quesadillas?’ Ava asked.

Hechicero rested his elbows on the counter. His dark eyes sparkled. ‘Because every mystery deserves a delicious delivery.’

Ava crossed her arms. ‘Can I have a quesadilla without clues, please? Marco’s was yummy and all, but this mystery hunting’s made me hungry.’

Hechicero chuckled. ‘Of course.’ But before returning to his stove, he slid a foil-wrapped package across the counter toward Marco.

Inside was another quesadilla. Ava stared. ‘You’re kidding.’

Hechicero shook his head. ‘This one contains the ultimate answer.’

Marco took a bite. He sighed. How was it so good? Simple ingredients, yet they made something magical. They reminded him of coming home to his mum singing in the kitchen, He took another bite, sniffing back tears, then … Crunch!

Another folded note. Ava nodded, her cheeks bulging with her own quesadilla. Marco unfolded the note. THE AUTHOR HAS THE ANSWER.

Marco blinked. ‘The author? Of the library book?’

Ava swallowed loudly. ‘I thought the mystery was over. The clues led back here. Shouldn’t this note say, “Food tastes better on an adventure with friends”, or something like that?’

‘Ooh, that’s a good one.’ Hechicero scribbled on a tiny notepad. ‘A mystery, wrapped in an enigma, wrapped inside a delicious quesadilla is better with a friend.’

Marco thought about the clues. The excitement. The quesadilla. It really was the best he’d ever eaten, but having Ava with him had made it better.

Marco finished his quesadilla, wishing it had lasted longer. He held up the book, examining the swirly colours and pictures. A line of dancing chillis caught his attention. He turned it over and saw a map of Mexico.

“Did you write this?”

Hechicero’s moustache twitched. He shook his head. Marco opened the book and read aloud.

‘1001 Lullabies for Sleepless Souls by … Maria Consuela Garcia-Jones. Songs for my son, Marco.’

Marco blinked at the black words on dogeared cream paper. The book had been read a lot.

His breath hitched. Hechicero passed him a napkin. ‘My mum wrote a book?’

‘Books. I thought you should know.’

A pensive bubble settled over them. Marco stared at the book. Life without his mum had been sad. Flavourless. Now, he had her words. A train rushed past, breaking the silence. Ava gasped, looking at her phone.

‘Marco, I have to go!’ She hugged him. ‘I’m so glad I got to see you. I’ll message you, okay?’

‘Yeah,’ Marco nodded, hugging her back. ‘We’ll find more of mum’s books. I wonder how many she wrote. Why didn’t she tell me?’

They turned to Hechicero.

‘That,’ he waggled his eyebrows, ‘is a mystery for another day.’

Original artwork by Bon Henry-Edwards