Hauntings and Heists (5 page)

Later, Woodrow sat in bed. He’d laid his paused portable video-game player on the mattress and pushed back the curtain from his bedroom window. The lights were on in his friends’ houses, and he glanced at the spot on the lawn where the mystery club met. The sky above the town was glowing with great clusters of constellations. Up here, north of the city, the stars were a marvel to behold. It was amazing how many of them hid behind the light pollution down in New York.

Tonight’s gathering had been a little embarrassing. The story he had brought was nowhere near as exciting as Viola’s. She’d managed to solve a crime — or a sort-of crime. At the very least, she’d solved a real, true mystery.

He listened to the sounds of the local news coming from the downstairs television. His mom had come home late from work again. He hadn’t spoken to his dad in a couple days. Maybe if he
went down to visit him soon, they’d have a dangerous encounter that Woodrow could bring back and share with the group. Usually, though, his dad would just make frozen pizza and they’d go to an action movie. Boring stuff.

Just then, a great blue streak broke away from a cluster of stars and raced across the darkness. A shooting star! A few seconds later, he watched another one fall. Then another. So cool. This must be a meteor shower. More importantly, Woodrow knew it was a sign. He decided that he needed to do
something
to impress everyone.

In Sylvester’s house, Gwen was crying again. His parents were trying to feed her, but she was being fussy. He wished she could talk so she could tell his mom exactly what she wanted or what was wrong. He wondered how long it would be before she was able.

Sylvester sat at his desk, flipping a large silver dollar between his fingers. Over, under, over, under. He stared at a page in a book called
Secrets of Magic Tricks.
It was amazing how much work magic took. Solving mysteries was similar. Viola was really good at it. He was happy she had moved into the house across the yard from his. The Question Marks Mystery Club was fun. Having to pay attention—to remember little
details, to think about their significance—made having to work at the diner less dreary. Recently, people in town had become so much more … mysterious.

Rosie was brushing her teeth in the upstairs bathroom when her sister Grace swung the door open. With a mouthful of toothpaste, Rosie threw Grace a dirty look, but she couldn’t say anything if she didn’t want to spray the mirror.

“You were taking too long,” said Grace, who reached for her own toothbrush. “I have to get up early tomorrow for swim practice.”

Rosie quickly spit, rinsed, and got out of the way. That’s how it usually was in the Smitherses’ house: crowded and annoying. She snuck quietly into the corner bedroom that she shared with Keira, her other sister. Greg and Stephen, her brothers, had the room next door. Grace was the only one with her own room, but she was already in high school and would probably be going to college in a couple of years.

Rosie couldn’t imagine a time in which she would have her own room. She wondered what that might feel like. Peaceful? Or lonely?

She crawled into bed, thinking about the mysteries she and her friends had been playing with. Viola had upped the game tonight with the story
she’d told about the missing dog. It was amazing, the secrets people kept. Why couldn’t that husband just tell his wife how he felt? Rosie’s family had always seemed able to do just that. Except … what if they hadn’t? Rosie sat up, listening to the sounds of her family settling in downstairs, playing music, chatting with one another. How many secrets were they all keeping?

Hours later, Viola woke to a familiar sound.

Tap-tap-tap. Tap-tap-tap.

She clutched her sheets to her chin, chills pouring on her like ice water. She didn’t know why this sound frightened her so much. Usually, she’d just figure out what was making it, and then everything would be okay. But it was hard to solve a mystery when the clues just weren’t there.

She couldn’t bring herself to throw back her covers and peek into the hallway. What if it
was
a ghost? Or worse … what if someone was there? Instead, she called to her parents.

Moments later, her father knocked on her bedroom door. Bleary-eyed, he peered in at her and said, “What’s wrong?”

Viola wanted him to listen to the tapping sound that had woken her … but it had stopped. She wondered if her shouting had scared it away.

“Sorry,” she said. “I thought I heard something.”

Her father smiled. “Go to sleep, honey. Everything is fine.” He closed her bedroom door.

But everything was not fine. There might be a ghost haunting her new house! If there was one thing Viola had learned recently, it was that when you needed an answer, you had to look for it. Rosie had mentioned that her mother was the town librarian. Maybe if Viola asked Rosie to help research the house’s history, they would be a bit closer to figuring out these creepy nighttime sounds.

The group didn’t meet for several days. Responsibility had finally caught up with them. Homework, sports, chores. Despite what they all wanted to believe, Moon Hollow was not
All Mysteries, All the Time.

Still, Viola managed to convince Rosie to help her search the records at the library. With Mrs. Smithers’s help, the girls discovered that Viola’s house had not been owned by many people in the past century. The last owners, Mr. and Mrs. Denholm, had been a quiet couple from New York City who used the house mainly as a weekend escape. Before them, the house belonged to a woman named Fiona Hauptmann.

The girls gathered clues from the woman’s obituary in the
Moon Hollow Herald.
Fiona had lived in the house her entire life. She’d inherited it from her parents, the Bransons, an old Hudson Valley family, when she was in her early twenties. The girls discovered a record that Fiona married soon after. Viola was intrigued by all the information, but it didn’t seem to point toward anything supernatural or ghostly. She thanked Rosie and her mom for the help anyway.

When the whole group finally got together again, they’d managed to gather up a few mysteries. Rosie was excited to share hers first.

(A ???? MYSTERY)

“My mother’s sister lives in Ohio,” said Rosie. “Her family is like ours—huge. I have tons of cousins, but my favorite cousin is Bethany. She’s my age exactly, and we talk on the phone all the time. We both really like animals—the weirder, the better.

“I was really excited to hear that Bethany had gotten a pet snake for her birthday last week. She named him Harry. He’s light brown, about six inches long, and he lives in a terrarium in her bedroom. She told me that they blink at each other through the glass. She says she can tell what he’s thinking, which is mostly about food. Her friends think Harry is gross, but Bethany doesn’t think he’s gross at all. She knows he’s smart, and that’s important to her.

“When Bethany called me yesterday afternoon, she was really upset. She said that something
weird had just happened with Harry, and she wondered if I could help figure it out.

“What had happened was that Bethany’s brother, Jasper, and his high-school friends were in her room checking out Harry. Bethany was in the kitchen getting an after-school snack, or else she would have kicked them out immediately. Anyway, she heard the boys start screaming, so she ran and found them crowded around the terrarium. Inside, Harry lay in several pieces, the front part of his body squirming around.”

“Oh my gosh!” said Viola. “What happened to him?”

“You’ll figure it out,” said Rosie. “Terrified, Bethany demanded to know what they’d done to her snake. Jasper apologized, claiming that he and his friends had simply picked up Harry to play with him. But then the snake had begun to writhe around desperately. Before they knew what had happened, Harry had literally snapped!

“She examined Harry from behind the glass. He looked distraught and was trying to hide underneath a small piece of wood. But he was alive, despite the fact that his tail had shattered. Those pieces of him lay still.

“Bethany called me immediately, because her mom wasn’t home yet to take Harry to the
vet. I told her not to worry, that I didn’t think Harry’s life was in any danger. But I also told her that Harry wasn’t exactly who she thought he was.”

“What do you mean?” asked Sylvester.

“I told her that Harry isn’t really a snake.”

“Then what is he?” Sylvester continued.

“He’s a lizard!”

“Really?” asked Sylvester. “A lizard that looks like a snake?”

Rosie nodded. “I’ve read that there is a kind of lizard called a glass snake. Despite their name, glass snakes aren’t snakes at all—they’re just lizards that don’t have legs or feet! And something that Bethany said about Harry’s behavior
before
the accident proved to me that he’s a lizard.
What tipped me off?”

“Bethany had told me that she and Harry blinked at each other through the glass. That is how they ‘communicate.’ Now, everyone who knows anything about reptiles will tell you that snakes cannot blink.”

“Oh, sure,” said Sylvester. “Who doesn’t know that?”

“Don’t tell me
you
knew that,” said Woodrow, smirking.

“I might have known that,” Sylvester answered, looking offended.

“Yeah, but you might
not
have.”

Rosie sighed and continued. “But lizards can blink. And that was good news, because it meant that as soon as Harry calmed down a little bit, he would be fine.”

“But he’s still in pieces!” said Sylvester.
“How can Harry possibly be
fine?”

“When some lizards are in danger, they shed their tails to distract predators and escape from becoming a meal. When Jasper and his friends picked up Harry, the lizard felt threatened, and he broke his tail off to get away from them. And I guess it worked! Harry will grow another tail, even though it won’t be as long as his first one. So ultimately, Harry will be fine … just a bit shorter than he was before. Bethany was a little weirded out, but totally relieved that her new friend is superpowered.”

“Whoa,” said Sylvester, “I wish I could regrow pieces of my body!”

“Why?” asked Viola, giving him a funny look. “Have you ever lost one?”

“No,” he answered with a silly smile, “but I could try.”

“Gross!” said Rosie. “Don’t you dare.”

After a moment, Woodrow spoke up. “Hey, you guys, I’ve got a good story too.”

“Okay,” said Viola, leaning forward. “Let’s hear it.”

(A ???? MYSTERY)

“Kyle Krupnik is probably the shortest boy in our grade, and he’s really quiet, but he’s also really nice, so we’ve been friends ever since I moved here.

“Yesterday, after gym class, I saw Kyle in the locker room. I stopped to say hello and asked him why he’d sat out the game of kickball that period. He told me that he’d twisted his ankle during gym earlier in the week, but that the school nurse said he’d be okay if he rested for a few days. I asked him if he was ready for Mrs. Frankle’s math quiz, because I was so totally
not.
He bent down and picked up his notebook from the bottom of his locker, explaining that he’d studied all night. He also assured me that I’d be fine, since I pay attention in class and take good notes.

“Then, Mickey Molynew came down the aisle and knocked into Kyle’s shoulder, obviously on
purpose. Kyle banged his shin on the nearest bench. I knew it must have hurt, because those benches are bolted to the floor, but Kyle kept his cool. Still, Mickey shouted out, ‘Watch where you’re walking, nerd!’ You all know Mickey, right?”

“I don’t,” said Viola, curious. “He’s sounds like a jerk.”

“You could say that,” Woodrow said. “Mickey is like five times Kyle’s size and sort of terrifying. He’s always wearing these really bright Hawaiian shirts, as if he’s daring you to make fun of him for it. He loves a fight.”

“Once he gets you in his sights,” said Sylvester, nodding, “it’s a battle to the finish.”

“Well, Mickey was searching for one,” Woodrow continued. “And even though he scares me, I wasn’t going to let him get away with picking on my friend.

“Kyle noticed how angry I was, so he grabbed my sleeve. ‘Forget him. Coach Winslow can see us.’ He nodded at the gym teacher’s office door, which is right next to the locker room’s entrance. ‘If we fight, we’ll get detention.’ I was nervous that Mickey might try to shove Kyle into one of the tall lockers, like I’d seen him do to other kids. Then Mickey bolted out of there, so I figured we should too. But it wasn’t over.

“In math class, just as Mrs. Frankle began passing out the quiz, Mickey told her that his textbook had been stolen after school the day before — and that one of his friends had seen Kyle breaking into his gym locker to swipe it from the top shelf. Mickey claimed that he hadn’t been able to study for the quiz.

“Kyle turned strawberry red. When Mrs. Frankle asked him if that was true, Kyle whispered that he’d never steal anything from anyone.

“Mrs. Frankle doesn’t know Mickey the way the rest of us do. I think she’s blinded by his ridiculous Hawaiian shirts. So she had no way of knowing which of them was telling the truth. She finished handing out the quiz and told both of them that they could sort this whole problem out at the principal’s office when they were finished.

“Mickey needed to have the last word. He asked, ‘But I can make up the quiz once he gives me my book back, right, Mrs. Frankle?’ She agreed that he could, if in fact Kyle had taken it in the first place. Kyle rolled his eyes, but then got to work.

“After class, when everyone had left the room, I went up to Mrs. Frankle and told her that I was certain I knew which of them was lying.
Do you know?”

“It was Mickey, of course. Still, Mrs. Frankle just stared at me, as if she needed to know more before she could make any decisions. She wanted proof.
Where do you think I found it?”

“In the locker room before class, I saw the inside of Kyle’s locker. His stuff was piled at the bottom. The locker room lockers are different than the hall lockers. They’re taller. Kyle had to bend down to pick up his math notebook. He’s not tall enough to reach the shelf. Since Mickey accused Kyle of taking his textbook from the top shelf in his gym locker, I knew he must be lying.

“Mrs. Frankle crossed her arms. ‘Kyle could easily have used the bench to climb to the top shelf,’ she told me.

“‘Not true,’ I answered.

“‘Why not?’ she asked.

“‘All the benches in the locker room are bolted to the floor,’ I answered, ‘so he couldn’t have moved one over to the lockers.’

“Mrs. Frankle still wasn’t happy. ‘He might have jumped,’ she said. I knew he hadn’t, and I told her so.
‘How can you be so sure?’ she asked.

“Kyle couldn’t have jumped, because he hurt his ankle earlier that week. Besides, if Kyle had come back into the locker room after class was over, Coach Winslow would have noticed. His office is right next to the door.

“Mrs. Frankle was finally convinced. For her proof, all she needed to do was check with Coach Winslow, who confirmed that Kyle had not returned to the locker room before it had been locked up for the night.

“Kyle told me that Mrs. Frankle apologized to him, especially since he managed to get an A-minus on the quiz, even under all that pressure. Mickey, on the other hand, failed the quiz, was not allowed to retake it, and ended up in detention that afternoon. In fact, Kyle says that when the faculty checked Mickey’s locker, the math textbook was sitting up on the top shelf, untouched … probably since the beginning of school.

“Just goes to show that if you’re going to start accusing people of stealing your stuff, you better make sure that your stuff is actually missing.”