Walls within Walls (20 page)

“But why isn't it open to the public just to visit? It's as beautiful as any piece of art,” Brid said.

“Oh, you know, progress. People forget. They let things decay and fall apart. The guy who built this place probably thought he'd be famous or something, and here we are, and I've never even heard his name. One day it'll just fall apart, and then it'll be demolished and turned into something else.”

“The guy's name was Guastavino,” Patrick offered.

“Guasta-who?” the fireman said.

“Rafael Guastavino. Once you know about him, you sorta see him everywhere,” Pat said.

“Oh. Well, now you've taught me something. And now I'll tell you a little-known fact. This little station used to be the spot where our city bragged about its transit system. The mayors in the first half of the nineteen hundreds liked to come down here for press conferences,” O'Rourke said. “That's a good story about this station.”

“Or how about this story?” his partner, named McHugh, offered. “Remember that blizzard in 2010 when some nutty kids spent the night here? Yeah, their mom was crazy with worry, but the kids stayed all night telling stories about architectural builders.” With that he winked.

“Well, we'll remember,” said Brid.

“I will, too.” O'Rourke grinned.

“Brid, are you crying?” said CJ.

“No, I'm just, I don't know. We just need to get back to Mom,” Brid said, sniffling.

“Yeah,” said CJ. “We need to tell her everything.”

“Dad, too,” said Patrick.

“Yes,” said CJ. “I think it's time everyone got to know about everything.”

“Everything,” said Brid. “I'm sick of secrets.”

Eloise said nothing, but she nodded approvingly.

Riding home in the front seat of a fire truck was the perfect end to Patrick's day. Because he hadn't really slept, his body told him it was night, even though he knew it was early morning. The firefighters had cut the bottom of his pant leg, cleaned his wound, bandaged it, and plopped him into the truck. He said it didn't hurt a bit, but still his mother insisted he sit in her lap.

Anne Smithfork had met them at City Hall, and she was so happy to have them safe again that CJ thought she might even forget to punish them. As the bumpy rig moved its way up Park Avenue, Carron sat on Eloise's lap going, “Choo choo.” Nobody bothered to correct her with the fact that fire trucks made a much different sound.

It was magnificent to sweep through Manhattan after a blizzard. The plow had pushed the remaining mountains of snow up along the sides of every street, and it looked like they were driving through an endless white valley on an enormous red sleigh. The trees in the middle of Park Avenue had Christmas lights on them, which added to the magical shimmer.

“Torrio left the station after we were all safe,” Brid said to CJ. “I just don't know what to think of him.”

“It's not like he saved us,” CJ said. “We would have found our way out eventually.”

“True, I guess,” Brid said, unconvinced.

“So let me get this straight,” CJ said. “Torrio's family didn't kidnap Julian.”

“So he says,” snorted Eloise.

“But Mr. Post thought he did?”

“Well, that's what everyone suspected at the time,” Eloise replied. “They were a suspicious family with ties to bad characters. My father had some dealings with the elder Mr. Torrio regarding his food plants.”

“So, you're not certain that the Torrios took Julian?” CJ asked.

“It was so long ago, it's so hard to remember. That's what everyone else told me.” Eloise looked confused. “I was only eight years old.”

CJ said, “Joe Torrio told Brid he had a letter from Mr. Post that proved the Torrio family was innocent. Why
wouldn't he have shown you that letter years ago?”

“That part makes no sense,” Eloise admitted. “Honestly, I'm not certain what is true. I just know that Joe Torrio moved into this building a very long time ago. I always thought he was just trying to get closer to me to get closer to the treasure so he could take it for himself,” Eloise said.

Anne Smithfork suddenly interrupted them. “Enough!” she said. “All I know about the man is that he was truly worried about your safety, and he knew where to look for you when you went missing.” She gave Eloise a stern look. “When we get home, you must all take showers, get dressed, meet in the living room, and begin at the very beginning of this story. With this secret life, you would think you children had no parents. Things are going to change around here. Enjoy this ride; it may be the last time you are outside for a very long time.” Her face contorted in that strange way it did when she was trying to be strict and realizing she was very bad at it.

Brid suddenly remembered something. “Doesn't Dad come home Friday?”

“Well, he was supposed to, but he called me yesterday and told me he'd changed his flight to come home today,” Anne said. “Now I'm worried that all this snow will delay him.” Suddenly, they all wanted to see him very much.

 

An hour later, after they'd said good-bye to Eloise and the firemen and had taken showers, CJ came into Brid's room. He still was wrestling with the new information.

“Creepy,” CJ said, “yet cool.” He lay on Brid's bed, which looked like a bed in a store, all perfectly plumped pillows and coordinated shams.

“CJ, let's walk to Torrio's apartment through the silver room and the fire stairwell on the Williamsons' side,” Brid said.

But CJ didn't answer. He was quiet, deep in thought, his chest rising and falling rhythmically. It took a minute before Brid realized that CJ had fallen into a deep sleep, and that the silver room would have to wait.

Patrick and CJ slept and slept through the morning and afternoon, and the snow started to fall again. Brid felt restless as she kept going over her notes, trying to make sense of everything. Eloise came by later to check on everyone, and when she did, Anne Smithfork went to bed, too. She had been up all night worrying, and was now too tired to hear the story.

“Eloise, do you think we have all the information we need to solve the puzzle behind the wall?” Brid said as they sat in front of the living room fireplace, passing a bowl of chocolate-covered pretzels back and forth.

“Yes, I think we do.”

“So maybe when the boys wake up?”

“I think we need to let your mother know what we
are up to,” Eloise said.

“Is something wrong?” Brid asked.

“Not wrong, really,” Eloise said, adjusting her skirt. “I'm confused about Mr. Torrio. I still don't think I believe him, but what if he's telling the truth?”

CJ came sauntering into the room, rubbing his eyes. “He is.”

“How do you know?”

“It doesn't make sense that he would be living here just to hunt for some shot-in-the-dark treasure that isn't even his. There has to be something about this whole thing we're missing.”

“There is only one way to find out.”

“Yup. The minute Patrick wakes up, it's back behind the wall.”

“With your mother's permission,” said Eloise, with a funny lilt in her voice.

“Yeah, with Mom's permission,” Brid repeated, just as the doorbell buzzed.

CJ rubbed his hair. “Doorbells don't buzz in New York City, unless…”

“The Williamsons?” asked Brid as she went bounding for the door. But it was Ray.

“Mr. Torrio left this for you,” Ray said, and handed her a padded envelope. But instead of turning away, he just stood there and watched expectantly. “Wewuzwor
ried boutya,” Ray said, crinkling up his giant eyebrows. “Glad yur back.”

“Who? Us? Don't worry about us, Ray,” Brid said, and smiled as she opened the envelope. Inside was the DigiSpy pod. “It's from Torrio,” she said. “Here's a note from him. ‘Please let me know if I can be of any help.'”

“Dittoforme,” Ray said. “I'll help you. We're getting kinda used to you kids, we like havin' you here, and we donwantanythingbadhappenen.”

“What, are you friends with Torrio now?” Brid asked with a grin.

“Yeah, well, he was really worried about you last night. I didn't know he cared about anybody. Made me kinda change my opinionudaguy.”

An hour later, CJ and Patrick were up and all set to solve the mystery. CJ had rebooted the DigiSpy, and Patrick was ready to go. Best of all, Anne Smithfork had heard every last detail, and now seemed the most excited of anyone.

Brid got Torrio's phone number from Ray and called to tell him they would be traveling behind his wall. It felt strange not to be that afraid of him. “You may want to come to my house,” he said. “We can watch Pat through the vents, make sure he's safe. Come through the silver room and downstairs.”

So, while CJ stayed at the computer, Patrick went down
to the dumbwaiter with his mother, and Eloise, Carron, and Brid touched one side of Patrick's closet to reveal a twenty-foot passage filled top to bottom with drawers and shelves. This was the place that used to hold the silverware, platters, and glasses for the countless guests who once frequented the ballroom. The passage led to a little staircase and Torrio's back door. Torrio stood there to greet them. “It's faster than going up and down the elevator,” he said. Brid couldn't help but think how much fun she and her brothers would have with the silver room in the future.

They pushed through Torrio's back door and into a kitchen filled with books. There were books on architecture, history, and museums, and many collections of poems. Brid wondered if there was something about this building that turned people into poetry lovers. “Sorry about the mess,” Torrio said. “I just haven't had visitors in a long while. I spend most of my time, uh…”

“Reading?” Eloise asked, softly fingering an old edition of Robert Frost's poetry. Brid looked around at the books stacked everywhere, the cheap black table, and the chipped gold-leaf paint on the walls. It had never occurred to her how lonely Torrio's life must be. Her thoughts were interrupted by a soft whirring noise coming through the grille, the sound of the dumbwaiter rising toward them.

“Patrick?” shouted Brid into her walkie-talkie. “Let's
review each section of wood you need to push on, before you actually push it.”

“I know the order,” Patrick said. “I think about it all the time. Wait while I put the DigiSpy down.”

“Okay,” Brid said. “The first poem is ‘The Weary Blues' by Langston Hughes, and he's talking about Harlem.” She quickly unfolded her printout of the map onto the card table. Torrio and Eloise gathered to look over her shoulder.

“Number one is around Lenox Avenue. The Guastavino building is gone, but the symbol has to be…?” Eloise asked.

“The musical note,” Patrick replied. “Cool.”

“What's cool?” Brid said.

“The wood just kind of springs in when you push that spot,” Patrick said. “And then it stays in.” Upstairs, in front of his father's computer, CJ watched the wood piece easily notch into place.

“Okay, Patrick, now we head west on the map, on your left.”

“I know, it's ‘Ulysses,' that poem by the tennis boy,” Pat yelled.

“What?” Brid sounded alarmed.

Upstairs, CJ chuckled into his walkie-talkie. “Tennyson!” he said. “Not ‘tennis boy'! And the symbol is the general's star for General Ulysses S. Grant.”

Patrick found the star and pushed it forward, once
again feeling the piece latch on to something.

“Third poem!” he yelled.

“The third poem is ‘Faint Heart in a Rail Way Train,'” said Brid. “The symbol is the caduceus held by the Mercury statue at Grand Central Terminal.”

“Yeah, about the guy who wished he had gotten off the train to meet some girl. Yuck!” Patrick said.

“Actually,” interrupted Eloise, “the bigger thought is to follow your heart and take a chance every once in a while.” They waited as Pat pushed the wooden shape with a caduceus on it. “The next poem is ‘Recuerdo' by—”

“—Edna St. Vincent Millay,” they all chorused.

Brid added, “Patrick, push the joyful girl, that's the symbol for that poem. Remember, from the Staten Island Ferry?”

There followed a long pause. CJ watched from upstairs, seeing that Patrick's arms couldn't reach that far south on the map. He had the DigiSpy directly in front of the correct spot, but he just couldn't reach it. It was too far away to his right, and too far up.

“Darnnnnn it!” came his shout.

“What's wrong?” they heard as Anne Smithfork's voice crackled over the walkie-talkie from the basement. She had been listening, mesmerized, the entire time.

“I can't reach that far,” Pat said. “It's too high up.”

“Is that behind the Williamsons' wall?” Brid asked.
“Can't he just take the dumbwaiter up higher?”

CJ came on the walkie-talkie. “It's too far to the side for Pat; the dumbwaiter can't go sideways. We need to get into the Williamsons' apartment. Pat, go down to the basement, then come up and meet us there,” he said.

Brid was already heading out of Torrio's front door, Joe and Eloise coming behind her. She summoned the elevator, knowing exactly where they had to go.

Sonia, the maid, met them at the entrance to the Williamsons' apartment. Brid said, “Hi, remember me? I live on the other side of this wall, and I need to get into your side.”

Sonia just stood there, looking at Brid's shoes.

“Oh, yeah,” Brid said, and flipped them off, not bothering to untie her sneakers. To Brid's surprise, Lily appeared from behind Sonia.

“What an absolute pleasure!” Lily said, extending her hand. “We've just come home for half-term holiday! We haven't been here twenty minutes.”

Impulsively, Brid hugged her, as Lukas appeared behind her.

“Listen, long story,” Brid said, “but we have to get behind your wall. Probably one of your radiator grilles will do in that back bedroom.” The elevator dinged again as Ray arrived, bringing up CJ, Patrick, Carron, and Anne.

“Shoes off, people!” Brid demanded. Sonia looked too stunned to protest as the parade filed past her. She picked up her neat basket of booties, but shrugged when nobody took any.

In Lily's ruffled bedroom, CJ extracted the screwdriver from his Swiss army knife and began to unscrew the grille cover. This was going to be easier than he'd expected. He slipped the cover off, and everyone took in the sight of the other eye.

“What in heaven's name?” said Anne Smithfork.

“Holy knuckle-duster!” said Lukas.

“That's nothing,” said Patrick. “Look at the writing around her eyes while we finish this thing up. Just remember to skip seven places.”

“What does he mean by that?” said Lily as she watched Patrick sink behind the wall, helped by CJ. They moved with the grace of people who did this every day.

“Patrick!” Anne protested.

“Don't worry, Mom, there is a shelf for him to walk around on,” CJ said as he stuck his head in and handed Patrick his flashlight.

“Now, where were we?” Patrick asked, as if only a moment had passed.

Brid, CJ, Torrio, and Eloise all looked at each other and laughed.