Emmy and the Rats in the Belfry (10 page)

E
MMY WOKE
and lifted her head off the table. Sun was streaming through dirty curtains, and she looked around, confused. Where was she? Why wasn't she in her own bed, and who was that girl sleeping on the floor?

Then she remembered. She was at Great-Aunt Melly's house with a runaway orphan and a broken-hearted rat.

They had stayed up late. Aunt Melly, still half stunned—rats could
talk
? and
shrink
?—had gone up in a daze to settle Aunt Gussie for the night, and called down faintly that the guest room at the top of the stairs had two beds. But Emmy and Ana had kept on cleaning long into the night, waiting with Raston for the return of the bats.

They hadn't come and they hadn't come. Finally, Emmy had put her head down on the table just to rest for a minute—and not woken up till morning. Ana must have collapsed on the floor in exhaustion. But the Rat was sitting on the windowsill, a tiny piece of paper clutched in his paw.

Emmy sat up and combed back her hair with her fingers. “Ratty,” she said.

No answer.

Emmy moved closer. “Maybe the bats got tired, Ratty. Maybe they can only do one heavy delivery a night.”

The Rat, a dejected-looking lump of fur, threw one paw over his eyes. With the other he extended the tiny note. “It's all a mistake,” he said in a hollow voice. “Ratmom doesn't want me. She only wants Sissy.”

“What? I don't believe it.” Emmy snatched the note and held it close to her eyes, scanning the miniature writing.

But it was true. There, in black and white, were the cruel words “I don't want to see you right now.”

“Who brought this?” Emmy demanded. “Manlio?”

Raston nodded.

“But didn't he say anything else? Did he at least tell you where your mother lives?”

Raston shook his head. “He just swooped by, dropped the note on the windowsill, and flew off. I tried to grab one of his wings, but I wasn't fast enough.” He sniffled, wiping his eyes with his paw. “And I wasn't fast enough to stop him when he took Sissy away in the first place. If I'd been eating my Brussels sprouts, I could have stopped him, I bet. And now I don't even know where my sister
is
, and it's all because I'm—I'm just—”

“Just what, Ratty?” said Ana, sitting up.

“
Flabby!
” Raston said, sobbing bitterly. “I'm a soft, floppy, weak excuse for a rodent, is what I am!”

“But, Ratty—”

“Don't deny it!” cried the Rat. “I haven't been eating right! I haven't been exercising! I've been scarfing down peanut-butter cups and biscotti, and lounging about, and now see what it's got me? No sister, no mother, and …” He bent his arm, trying to make his biceps pop up, without success. “No
muscles
!” he wailed.

“Listen, Ratty,” said Emmy. “It's not your fault.”

“You can't be expected to catch a bat,” added Ana, but the Rat just shook his head and trudged off to the bookshelf in the hall. And soon after, the girls could hear his rhythmic grunts as he began to go through the exercises shown on the brightly colored pages of
Get Flabulous!

It was a busy morning for everyone. Raston built up his muscles. Aunt Melly got dressed and tended to Aunt Gussie. And the girls finished the kitchen and started work on the entryway and front rooms. Ana was dusting the antique dollhouse and Emmy was vacuuming the hall when the doorbell rang.

Emmy jumped. She caught sight of a dark blue sleeve through the front curtains, and the glint of metal on an official-looking belt, and backed away, leaving the vacuum running noisily.

Aunt Melly peered down from the top of the stairs, looking frightened. “Who's at the door?”

“The police!”

Aunt Melly clutched at her chest. “Some nosy neighbor told them about Gussie! They've come to take her away!”

Emmy grabbed Ana and shoved her into the hall closet. The Rat, alarmed, jumped off his book and scurried after.

“Don't make a sound!” Emmy hissed. Then she ran around the newel post and up the stairs. “Quick, Aunt Melly, straighten your collar—comb your hair—that's right. Now come on down; you have to answer the door.”

The old woman leaned heavily on the banister. “Can't they let her die in peace? It won't be long, now. She was even worse this morning …”

“Aunt Melly! Stop looking so scared!” Emmy gripped her great-aunt's arm and helped her down the final step. “Nobody's going to take Aunt Gussie away. You're dressed instead of in your robe, and the house is clean—at least the part they'll see—and you look like you're taking care of things. The police are probably here because of—” She shot a look at the hall closet door, still open an inch.

“Psst!” Ana's finger beckoned frantically through the crack.

Emmy spoke sideways, not turning her head. “What?”

The doorbell rang again and was accompanied by a loud knock. Aunt Melly glanced nervously over her shoulder. “I'd better answer that, or they'll wonder what's wrong.”

“
Please
don't tell the police I'm here,” Ana begged. But Aunt Melly was shutting off the vacuum, her back turned, and did not respond.

Emmy risked a quick look back. “I won't tell.”

“But what if
she
does? I'd rather be a rat forever than live with people who don't want me!”

 

“Now, then,” said Officer Crumlett, consulting his notebook, “we know that Ana Stephans did not get off the train at Schenectady, because we have reviewed the video from the train station platform.” He crossed his legs, leaned back, and took a glass of iced tea from the tray Emmy held out.

Emmy brought the tray back to the kitchen, thinking it was a good thing Ana hadn't changed from a rat to a girl in front of the video camera, or the police would have had a big surprise. She arranged her face in what she hoped was an innocent expression and returned to the front room. It was a perfectly clean and tidy front room, too—they had even dusted the keys of the upright piano in the corner—and Emmy was confident that everything looked good.

Unfortunately, Aunt Melly looked distinctly uneasy. She sat rigidly on a chair, her hands knotted in her lap, and glanced at the hall closet door more times than Emmy thought wise.

“Now, little girl, I need to ask you. Was Ana talking to anyone else on the train? Anyone she might have gone off with?” Officer Crumlett clicked his pen against his teeth.

Emmy shook her head.

“Did Ana say anything to you about running away?”

“It is a terrible thing,” Aunt Melly interrupted in a wavering voice, “when a child goes missing.”

“Yes, but I was asking—”

“Even if the child is perfectly safe somewhere”—her eyes strayed once again toward the closet door—“
other
people don't know that, and of
course
they are worried.”

“Naturally, but—”

“And if anyone
knew
where the child was,” Aunt Melly went on, “they might think they had a duty to inform the authorities, even if—even if—” She faltered and buried her face in her knotted hands. “Oh, dear!”

Officer Crumlett looked both confused and suddenly alert. Emmy patted the elderly woman on the back, thinking fast, and looked up at the police officer. “Aunt Melly used to be a schoolteacher, and she gets very emotional when kids are in trouble.”

Aunt Melly groped for a handkerchief and dabbed at her eyes. “Really, I simply
cannot
go on with this.”

“I'm sorry to upset you, ma'am,” said Officer Crumlett, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. “Just a few more questions—”

Aunt Melly wailed aloud.

Emmy glanced past the policeman to the closet door—she couldn't help herself—and saw to her horror that it had swung open. If Officer Crumlett turned around, he would see Ana for sure.

But it seemed likely that he would find out about Ana in any case. Aunt Melly was just feeling too guilty to keep the secret. And really, Emmy could see her point. Everyone was worried about Ana now—her relatives, the police, the people at the orphanage, the social worker. Squippy was probably in a lot of trouble for losing track of Ana, and she might even lose her job.

Officer Crumlett leaned forward, solid and stern, his hands on his knees. “Emmy, you must tell me. Did Ana say anything, anywhere, at any time, about running away?”

“Well …” Emmy looked past him to the hall closet. Ana's head was poking around the doorjamb, and the desperation in her face was like a shout. Ana lifted her left hand—the Rat was perched on her palm—and then she placed her right forefinger very close to the Rat's sharp front teeth.

Emmy knew at once what Ana was trying to say.

Aunt Melly, though, was still mopping her eyes. She blew her nose with an elderly honk, sniffled twice, and looked up at Officer Crumlett's broad blue shirtfront.

“Officer,” she quavered, “I'm afraid I must tell—”

“Aunt Melly!” Emmy gripped her aunt by the shoulder and shook it slightly. “Please don't torture yourself! Officer Crumlett
knows
you can't tell him anything. He doesn't blame you.”

“No, indeed,” began the policeman, but Emmy was not finished. If Aunt Melly wanted to tell the truth, then Emmy would tell the truth. “Ana didn't exactly talk about running away. But she
did
say she wished she could turn into a rodent.”

“A … rodent?” Officer Crumlett rubbed his red-veined nose.

Emmy nodded. “She said that if she could turn into a rat, then she wouldn't have to live with people who didn't want her.” She fixed Aunt Melly with an earnest gaze. “She said
she might never change back
.”

Aunt Melly took in a little breath. She glanced quickly past the policeman to the hall closet, and her eyes widened.

Officer Crumlett clicked his pen and put it in his pocket. “I trust you realize this is a serious matter. I am not asking if Ana Stephans liked to pretend, or wished she could change into a little furry animal, or believed in fairies. The police force is interested in facts. And the fact is, we want to find that little girl and keep her safe.”

Aunt Melly's spine stiffened, and she spoke with sudden decision. “That is exactly what we hope for as well—that you will find her safe and
unchanged
.”

The policeman looked slightly confused, but he pulled out a small card from his pocket. “If you remember anything else, here's my number. We're checking all the towns on the railroad line from the last time Ana was seen. And believe me, we are questioning Miss Gwenda Squipp
very
closely.”

 

“Now, Ana,” said Aunt Melly after the door shut behind Officer Crumlett, “I can't say I like the way you forced me to choose between doing the right thing and keeping you safe, er, human.”

Ana emerged from the closet with the Rat on her shoulder. “I'm sorry, really I am. But I don't think it's the right thing to send me away to people who don't even
want
me.”

“Nevertheless,” said Aunt Melly with surprising firmness, “we simply cannot keep up this deception.” She pushed down on the arms of her chair and rose slowly to her feet. “You must try to understand—”

“I'm
tired
of trying to understand!” Ana cried. “It's horrible to live with someone who doesn't care about me! I've done it already, for
years
!”

The Rat patted her earlobe with his paw. “Say it, don't spray it,” he suggested.

“But, my child,” said Aunt Melly gently, “the judge ordered it. You still need someone to take care of you.”

“I can take care of myself!” Ana wiped at her cheek with the back of her hand. “If I was a rat, I wouldn't need anyone. I could scavenge for crumbs and sleep in culverts and attics and things, and I wouldn't even go to
school
!” She turned away suddenly, burying her face in the crook of her elbow.

“She really
wants
to go to school,” Emmy explained to Aunt Melly. “She wants to be a doctor someday.”

“I won't be one if I'm a rat,” came Ana's muffled voice from beneath her arm.

“You could lead exercise classes, though,” Raston said brightly. “I'd come!”

Aunt Melly's face took on an austere expression. She lifted the Rat from Ana's shoulder and set him on the bookshelf. “You may choose a book, Raston,” she said, sounding more like a teacher than ever, “and read it—quietly. Ana, dear, here's a tissue. Blow your nose and sit down on the sofa. It's time we had a talk. Oh, and Emmy?” She put a hand on Emmy's shoulder and propelled her toward the front door. “You'd better hurry to the train station. Your friend Joe should be arriving any minute now.”

“O
KAY
, so let me get this straight,” said Joe. “You asked your aunt to invite me here so I could
work
?”

Emmy sighed. She had tried to explain things on their walk from the train station back to Cucumber Alley, but apparently she had not made this point clear. Then as soon as they got to the house, Aunt Melly and Ana had divided up the chores, and from that moment on, they'd been busy. Even Raston had been put to work, dusting hard-to-reach surfaces on light fixtures and the tops of shelves.

And now it was evening. The three children were sprawled on patio furniture on the second-floor porch, exhausted. Raston, still wearing his feather duster, was perched on the flat top of the railing, gazing pensively into the distance at the river and the sun that was slipping behind the treetops.

Emmy glanced at Joe. “I told my parents that Aunt Melly needed you to help with the yard work. Didn't they tell yours?”

Joe lifted his head off the lounge chair. “Sure, but I thought that was just an excuse! I figured you wanted me here to help Ratty and Sissy find their mother!”

“Shh!” said Ana, with a nod toward the Rat, but he had already heard. A low, broken murmur came from the rodent on the railing.

“Ratmommy … only wanted her …
favorite
child …” There was the sound of a sniffle.

Joe pushed his sweaty, straw-colored hair out of his eyes and lowered his voice. “Not to complain or anything, but I've been mowing all afternoon. With a
push mower
. You know, the kind they had in the Dark Ages? And when I wasn't mowing, I was pulling weeds. And when I wasn't pulling weeds, I was clipping the hedge. And when I wasn't doing
that
—”

“We get the picture,” said Ana. “We were working, too. And we made supper and everything.”

“Tea! And toast! And boiled eggs! You call that
supper
?”

“You think you can do better?” Ana demanded.

“I can nuke a hot dog in the microwave. I can put in a frozen pizza. That would have been way better.”

“Sure,” said Ana, “
if
they had a microwave, which they
don't
—and
if
they had any pizzas in the freezer, which they
didn't
.”

“Quiet, you guys!” Emmy motioned toward the porch door that opened into the house. Aunt Melly could be seen at the far end of the hallway, bringing a tray out of Gussie's room. “Listen, Joe, I'm sorry. But can't you see? They really need us.”

Joe glanced into the dim interior as Aunt Melly's shadow disappeared down the staircase. “They need somebody, that's for sure, but why does it have to be us? I was working on my scouting badge for science with the professor, and on another badge with my Scout leader, and I quit everything to come here. I thought there was some kind of big huge mystery and you wanted me to help find Ratty's mom—”

A whimper came from the direction of the railing.

Joe rolled his eyes. “But
now
all I'm doing is slaving for two old ladies I don't even know. And if you ask me, your aunt Gussie
should
be in a hospital! She looks like she won't even last the week!”

Ana glared at him.

“Well, it's true,” said Joe sulkily. “That is one
old
lady.”

“Don't keep calling her that!” said Emmy. “You say it like it's something bad.”

“Well, it's not exactly good.” Joe shrugged. “She can't take care of herself, she feels terrible all the time, she can hardly breathe—that sounds pretty bad to me.”

Emmy didn't say anything. Joe was right.

“It won't last,” said Ana quietly. “Aunt Melly—I mean, Miss Emmaline—told me that if I promised not to turn into a rat, she would speak to the judge and make sure they found me a better place to live. But she said we could wait a few days … because you're right, Joe. I don't think Aunt Gussie
will
last the week.”

“And how weird is that?” Joe sat up, looking exasperated. “We're just hanging around, waiting for an old lady to die?”

“We're
not
just hanging around.” Raston sat on the railing, his tail dangling, and looked at them gloomily. “We're working.”

Joe groaned and flopped back down on the lounge chair. “Don't remind me. I must have thirty-seven blisters.”

“At least you don't have to wear a bunch of feathers when you mow the lawn,” said the Rat. “At least
your
mom wants you.”

“Most of the time,” said Joe. “Listen, though, Ratty—what makes you so sure your mom doesn't want you? Just that note? Let's see it.”

Raston pulled two small and crumpled pieces of paper from his waistband and held them out, turning his head away. “You find the one you want. I can't stand to read them again.”

Joe pored over the postage-stamp-sized notes, squinting. “Hmm. I guess she makes it pretty clear who she's inviting.”

Raston hid his face in his paws.

“But it still seems fishy to me.” Joe looked up. “I just don't believe that a mother would only want to see one of her kids.”

“Maybe I was a bad ratling,” said the Rat, his voice muffled.

“Or maybe she's a bad mother,” said Joe, looking down at the notes again.

Raston's head whipped up. “You take that back! You hear me?”

“Shh, Ratty,” said Emmy, looking over her shoulder at the sound of footsteps in the hall. “He was just kidding; right, Joe?”

“Oh, sure,” said Joe. “Ratty's mother was perfect, and he was a baby delinquent. I totally buy that. Listen, Emmy, do you still have that letter your aunt sent you? I want to check something out.”

Emmy dug in her pocket for the letter, as the sound of footsteps grew louder. Aunt Melly was standing in the doorway.

Joe stood to offer her the lounge chair, but she sank down on a straight-backed chair instead, smiling. “After how hard you worked today, I think I'll let you have the lounge. I can't possibly thank you all enough.”

The children said polite variations of “we were glad to help” (partly true), and “oh, it was nothing” (completely false).

“You just don't know what this means to Gussie and to me,” Aunt Melly went on. “I should have told you to take some time out to play. I can't believe you worked straight through!”

Joe looked proud of himself. Emmy tried not to laugh.

Aunt Melly gazed out over the lawn and down to the boathouse at the water's edge. “It's too late to rig the sailboat, but you still have over an hour of sunlight left. You could put the little canoe in the water and try it out, if you like. It's meant to hold just one adult, but I don't see why it couldn't hold two children. Your father told me you are comfortable with boats, Emmy?” Aunt Melly looked down at her great-niece, then stiffened as she caught sight of the letter in Emmy's hand. “Dear me. I started to tell you this yesterday, but then—well, I'm afraid what with Ana shrinking and growing, and rats talking, and bats coming to the window, it just went right out of my head.”

She unfolded the letter and looked at it with such a worried frown that Emmy hastened to reassure her. “It's okay that you forgot you invited me, Aunt Melly. I understand.”

“I'm afraid you don't understand,” said Aunt Melly. “That is not my handwriting. I did
not
send this letter.” She set it down on a small table.

The sound of crickets was suddenly loud in the stillness.

“I thought there was something funny about it!” said Joe. “And look here.” He laid Ratmom's two tiny notes next to the letter that had been sent to Emmy's parents.

Emmy squinted at the spidery writing, and then went rigid. “I can't believe I didn't notice that.”

“You probably never compared them side by side before,” said Joe, smoothing the letters flat.

“What's wrong?” cried Raston from the railing.

“It's exactly the same handwriting,” said Emmy, “only different sizes. And look—there's some more of that glitter you guys used on Squippy's card.” She pointed to a small sparkle, caught in a crease. “I wish you hadn't dumped the whole bottle on, Ratty. That stuff got into everything.”

Joe bent over the letter again, frowning.

Raston reared back on his hind legs. “Are you saying that Ratmom wrote the big letter, too? Are you trying to blame
everything
on my mother?”

“Calm down, Ratty,” said Emmy, looking down again at the letters. “We don't know that. We're just saying that the
same
person—or rodent—wrote all three.”

“But who?” asked Aunt Melly. “Who would want to bring Emmy to Schenectady, just to leave her at the station with no one to meet her? What would be the point?”

“Maybe Manlio Bat heard how beautiful Sissy was and set it all up so he could meet her,” Raston said darkly. “Oooh, if I ever get my paws on him—”

Ana shook her head. “If some bat wanted to see Sissy, why wouldn't he just fly to Grayson Lake? And why would he write to Emmy's parents?”

“They're postal bats,” said Emmy. “They're paid to deliver messages and things. Maybe we should be asking who hired the bats. And why.”

“Good question,” Ana said. “Why
would
anybody want you to leave home and go to Schenectady?”

“Maybe Miss Barmy wanted to get you out of the way,” suggested Raston, “so she could mess up your room again and get you in even more trouble.”

“But that doesn't even make sense.” Emmy's head was beginning to hurt. “My parents couldn't possibly blame me for anything if I was out of town.”

“Excuse me,” said Aunt Melly, “I don't understand everything you're talking about, but it seems to me that the whole point wasn't to get Emmy to Schenectady, but Sissy Rat. After all,
she's
the one the bats came to pick up.”

“That's true.” Emmy twisted a lock of her hair around her finger. “But why would someone want Sissy?”

“Well,” Aunt Melly said, looking like a teacher again, “let's think. What's special about her?”

“I know! I know!” The Rat leaped up. “She won the Rodent City beauty contest last month!”

“Er … that wasn't exactly what I meant.”

“And I bet Ratmom heard about it,” Raston went on, speaking over Aunt Melly's objection, “and is going to enter her in the Miss Schenectady contest!”

“Really, Raston, I hardly think—”

“And
that's
why I wasn't invited,” said Raston. “They'll be doing girly stuff now, make overs and dresses and things, and I'd just be in the way. But when they're done, they'll send the bats back for me, too! Oooh, Ratmommy was clever to write all those letters and get you to bring us here!”

Full of enthusiasm, Raston leaped from the railing, his feather duster fluttering, and scampered to the doorway. “While I'm waiting for them to come back, I might as well get flabulous!” He dropped to all fours, did a few leg lifts to warm up, and began a series of wind sprints down the length of the hall.

“That is one weird rodent,” said Joe at last.

Emmy watched the little scampering form. “Raston might be deluded—”

“No kidding!”

“But
somebody
went to a lot of trouble to get Sissy here and then get her away from us.”

“But who—”

Emmy put up a hand. “Aunt Melly asked what was special about Sissy, but we all know that. She reverses Ratty's bites.”

“Yeah, but—”

“Listen.” Emmy leaned forward and lowered her voice. “Anybody who gets shrunk, or turned into a rat, just asks Sissy to kiss them, right? It's easy. But there's somebody who had
trouble
growing, remember? Somebody we hope
doesn't
grow …”

There was an appalled silence.

“Miss Barmy,” breathed Ana. Her fingers curled. “But why would she want Sissy in Schenectady—Oh! You think she's here!”

“I just bet she is,” said Joe. “And look here.” He pointed to the letter. “This isn't glitter. I think it's a bit of Scaly-Tailed Squirrel Dust.”

“You can tell the difference?” Emmy looked closely at the tiny scales.

“I spent half a morning dumping glitter all over that stupid card,” Joe said. “Glitter has a different shine and a regular edge. This isn't glitter.”

Emmy tipped her head back, her eyes half closed, remembering how the sparkling glitter had swirled over her parents' heads at the party, landing on their shoulders, their hair, as they read the letter Mr. B had given to them. But of course it hadn't been glitter at all. It had been Scaly-Tailed Squirrel Dust, and it had made them want to believe everything in the letter, no matter how improbable.

Joe and Ana were busy working out how all the pieces fit together—the fake letters, Mr. B, the robbery at the Antique Rat—but Emmy shut her eyes and put her fingers in her ears. She had to think. If Miss Barmy really had used the bats to kidnap Sissy—if Miss Barmy had Sissy right
now
—they had to find her, and fast. But how? They couldn't very well fly into the air after the bats …

Emmy stood abruptly and walked to the railing, leaving Ana and Joe's conversation behind. She stared out at the river.

Manlio Bat had waited for them at the train station. She doubted he would be waiting around there anymore, but it was at least one place they could check. But there must be other places … Where
did
bats hang out? An unformed thought nagged at the corner of her mind, as if she had forgotten something important, but she couldn't quite remember what it was.

What they really needed to do was to find the rodents of power in Schenectady, if there were any left. They might be willing to tell Raston if there were new rats in town and where they were hiding. And at the very least, they would know where to look for Manlio and his bats.