BSC09 The Ghost At Dawn's House (8 page)

"Oh, Jame-o," said Claud. "I'm sorry, but that one's too long."

"Please, please, please? Pretty puh-kase with a cherry on top?"

Against her better judgment, Claudia gave in. It took nearly a half an hour to read the story because Jamie kept interrupting her to ask questions.

"But," he said, as Claudia was closing the book, "why did Mr. Mallard leave Mrs. Mallard and the ducklings all alone?"

"He was waiting for them at their new home."

"Oh. How come Michael called all the policemen?"

"Because," replied Claud, "the duck family needed help. Now into bed."

Jamie crawled under the covers. He asked for another drink of water . . . and another. Finally he seemed sleepy.

Claudia tiptoed downstairs and settled herself in front of the TV. She'd been watching for about five minutes when she heard a voice behind her say, "But how come Mr. Mallard just waited on the island? And can I have another drink of water?"

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Chapter 11.

"You know what I think?" asked Mary Anne dreamily.

"What?" I replied.

The two of us were lying on our backs in the hayloft in the barn. The day was stickily warm and sunny, and I could see particles of dust floating through the sunshine that streamed through the cracks in the walls. It was only the third time Mary Anne had ever been in the barn. She's such a 'fraidy cat. Just because the barn is a little rickety.

As if reading my thoughts, she went on, "I think I'm too afraid of things."

I couldn't disagree with her.

"And being afraid always makes things worse than they really are. I was afraid of boys before Stacey and I went to Sea City. I was afraid of making new friends before I met you."

"You were afraid of the barn," I pointed out.

"Yup," Mary Anne glanced through the copy of Sixteen magazine that was lying between us.

"Are you feeling braver now?" I asked her.

"Sure," she said ^bsentmindedly. "Gosh, look at this kid Cam Geary. Isn't he adorable?"

"Yeah. . . . How brave are you feeling?"

"Pretty brave. I wish Cam lived here in Stoneybrook."

"How'd you like to prove to me just how brave you've become?"

"Huh?" Mary Anne finally dragged her eyeballs away from Cam Geary.

"I said, 'How'd you like to prove how brave you've become?' "

"What do you mean?" asked Mary Anne suspiciously.

"I've got a great secret to show you."

"You do?"

"Yes. But you're going to have to be very, very brave. Come on!" I jumped up. "Come in the house with me and we'll get flashlights."

"Flashlights?" repeated Mary Anne. "Whatever this is — I guess it has to do with the dark?"

"Right. But you're not afraid of the dark, are you?"

"No. I'm afraid of all the things I can't see that the dark is hiding."

"Oh, Mary Anne. I thought you said you were getting so brave."

"Yeah, well ..."

I couldn't admit that I wasn't feeling particularly brave myself. What I wanted to do, of course, was show Mary Anne the secret passage. I hadn't had the nerve to go in it, let alone talk about it, since the night I'd read about Jared Mullray. I wanted someone to come with me. I also wanted someone to be able to share the amazing secret.

I got to my feet and picked up the magazine. "Let's go," I said, trying to sound enthusiastic. "You are in for the surprise of your life."

Mary Anne and I climbed out of the hayloft. We went into our house and found a couple of flashlights. Then I led Mary Anne to my bedroom.

I had decided to enter the passage from the house instead of the barn. For one thing, seeing my wall swing open was a lot more dramatic than shoving in the dusty old trapdoor. For another, it was a lot less scary. And if we left the wall open, it would let some light into the passage.

"Okay. Get ready," I said. I pressed the

molding and the wall began to open up. I turned around to watch Mary Anne's reaction.

It was worth it. All she was able to do was let her mouth drop open, cover it with both hands, and stare.

"I found it," I said unnecessarily. "A secret passage."

"Oh, wow. I don't believe it." Mary Anne's voice was little more than a whisper. "How — how did you find it?"

I told her the story, but I left out all the stuff about the buckle and the nickel and Jared Mullray. I'm no fool. If Mary Anne knew those things, she'd probably never get within a mile of my house again.

"Don't you want to see it?" I asked her. I took her by the arm and edged her toward the wall.

We turned our flashlights on and stepped into the passage. I shoved Mary Anne ahead of me. "You go first," I said.

"Are you crazy?"

"Absolutely not. I know if I go first you won't follow. I'll find you lounging around on my bed or something. Now go. I'll be right here."

Trembling, Mary Anne led the way toward the stairs. By the time we reached them, she

was fine, but I was in a panic. I didn't say anything, but I hadn't seen the Indian-head nickel. And I knew very well that I'd tossed it back in the passage after the Trip-Man had given it to me. I wasn't sure how hard I'd thrown it, but it couldn't have gone too far. Certainly not down the stairs. Where was it?

Answer: It was missing. Jared had it. He'd wanted it back. He wanted to give it to Mathias Bradford.

I tried to convince myself I was being ridiculous. As we stepped gingerly down the stairs, I swept the beam of my flashlight carefully from side to side, just in case.

No coin.

Mary Anne and I had almost reached the spot where Jeff and I had heard the weird noises the other night, when Mary Anne stopped dead in her tracks.

"Shh!" she hissed. "Did you hear that?"

"Hear what?".

"Shh!"

We stopped to listen. I didn't hear a sound, but I saw something at my feet. I leaned over for a look. Peanut shells. They were kicked off to the side and were kind of grimy looking, but I knew they hadn't been in the passage before.

"Uh-oh. Oh, no/' I moaned. I couldn't help it.

"What's wrong?" asked Mary Anne suspiciously.

"Those peanut shells weren't here the last time I was in the passage. I'm positive they weren't. Oh, it's Jared!"

"Jared?" repeated Mary Anne.

"The — the ghost."

"What ghost?" said Mary Anne in a quavery voice.

"The ghost of the secret passage." It was too late for secrets. Besides, Mary Anne is my best friend. I had to tell her.

Now I know Mary Anne is timid, but I hadn't really expected her to desert me in the darkness. That's just what she did, though. Without another word, she squeezed by me, clattered along the passage, up the steps, and back to my room.

"How do you close this thing?" I could hear her yelling.

I reached the top of the stairs in time to see the patch of light at the end of the passage growing smaller. Mary Anne was shoving the wall in place.

"Don't close it, you dope!" I yelled. "I'm still in here."

"Oh, sorry," said Mary Anne. "I wasn't thinking."

I slipped through the opening and closed off the passageway.

"Now who's the crazy one?" I gasped, flopping onto my bed.

Mary Anne flopped down beside me. "Not me!" she exclaimed. "You! You brought me some place where there's a ghost!" Suddenly she stopped and looked at me. "Wait a second. A real ghost? Are you sure you haven't just been reading too many of those weird stories?"

"I'm sure," I replied, starting to get my breath back. "I better tell you everything, though. All right, here's the story."

"The whole story?" interrupted Mary Anne.

"Yes, the whole story. Okay. For starters, I'd been hearing a lot of weird sounds. They were coming from the direction of the passage, only I didn't know there was a passage at first. Then I discovered the passage, just like I told you. The first time I was in it — the day I found it — I came across a button, a buckle, and a key. They were all really old. Here, I'll show you." I got the things out of my bureau drawer and laid them on the bed.

Mary Anne sat up. She peered at the objects. But she wouldn't touch them.

"I bet they're more than a hundred years old," I said. "Maybe more than two hundred years old."

"Wow!" whispered Mary Anne.

"And, see," I continued, "what happened is that someone once hid out in the secret passage. His name was Jared Mullray, and he 'wasn't right in the head/ " I showed Mary Anne the last chapter in A History of Stoney-brooke. Then I added in a low, spooky voice, "And now that poor old angry ghost haunts the passage and maybe our house, too, scavenging around for food and for anything he thinks might be valuable."

"Oh, Dawn," said Mary Anne. "You don't have any proof." But she didn't sound very sure of herself.

"Well," I admitted, "not really. But Wood Acres could be our house and barn. And the secret passage would be the perfect hiding place. Anyway, listen to this. The second time I went in the passage, I was with Jeff, and he found an Indian-head nickel. You know what that is?"

Mary Anne nodded.

"I know it wasn't there before. And while we were in the passage, we heard all these weird sounds, moaning and stuff."

"You did?"

"Yes. And when we were in again just now, I looked everywhere for the nickel and it wasn't there."

"You didn't take it out of the passage?"

"Well, I did. I mean, someone did, but I threw it back." I told her about the Trip-Man.

"Did you put the locks on like he suggested?" Mary Anne wanted to know.

"Only on the entrance to my room," I said. "And I only lock it at night. We couldn't figure out a way to lock the trapdoor, so we just set a bale of hay on top of it.

"Anyway," I went on, "the peanut shells weren't in the passage before. They just appeared. And no living person has been in this passage except you, Jeff, and me!"

Mary Anne nodded. Then suddenly she stiffened.

"What?" I asked.

We didn't even have to keep quiet to hear it. The next sound was loud enough to wake the dead.

THUMP.

It definitely came from the secret passage.

Mary Anne started to scream, but I clapped my hand over her mouth. I didn't want Jared to hear us.

The thump was followed by another thump, then nothing.

When the passage had been quiet for ten entire minutes, I jumped up. "I'm going back in there!" I exclaimed.

"Not me," said Mary Anne. "See you later." But she must have felt guilty because a moment later she added, "I'll guard the entrance for you."

I took my flashlight, marched into the passage, and kept going. At the bottom of the stairs, I screamed. Lying at my feet was a book. It was called Great Dog Tales. It looked about a hundred years old. I had never seen it before in my life. I turned around and ran back to Mary Anne.

Chapter 12.

Oh, boy. Am I glad I wasn't sitting at the Pikes' that day. As it was, I got called in to look for Nicky, but Stacey sure had her hands full with the girls, even before she knew Nicky was gone.

It started when the mail arrived. Usually, the mail in our neighborhood is delivered just before lunch, but that day it was late. The mail truck pulled up at the Pikes' at about three o'clock in the afternoon.

"I'll get it!" cried Vanessa. She tore out the door with Claire and Margo at her heels. Nicky was on the sun porch, alone as usual, reading a book.

Stacey took advantage of the quiet to start in on the list of chores Mrs. Pike had left her. (Sometimes, if Mr. and Mrs. Pike are behind with the housework, us baby-sitters pitch in with the laundry and stuff, and then we earn mother's helpers wages which are better than plain old baby-sitters wages.)

Stacey got into the rhythm of folding clean clothes and folded two basketsful. Then she moved on to the kitchen, where she unloaded the dean dishes in the dishwasher and loaded up the dirty ones.

The house was quiet. Stacey sighed contentedly^ She checked on Nicky. He was still

reading on the porch. She thought she remembered hearing the girls come in.

"Vanessa?" she called. "Claire? Margo?"

"We're upstairs!" Vanessa shouted back.

"Okay!"

Stacey returned to her chores.

Fifteen minutes later, things were still quiet. Quiet wasn't unusual for Nicky those days, but it was for the girls. Three girls generally make some sort of noise, but Stacey hadn't heard so much as a giggle.

She started up the stairs — and that was when the thing came flying down at her. It was little and shrieked and had a head of white foam. When it collided with Stacey, it left foam all over her Hawaiian shirt.

"Yikes!" cried Stacey. She backed against the wall.

The foam-thing was rubbing at its eyes. It stumbled forward and Stacey caught it before it fell down the stairs.

"Claire!" Stacey exclaimed. "Is that you?"

"Yes," wailed the foam-thing. "It's (gulp) meeeeeee!"

Stacey glanced at the top of the stairs. Margo and Vanessa were standing there solemnly, looking down at their little sister. Stacey said later that that's when she first thought something was really wrong. If the older girls had

pulled some sort of prank, they would have been laughing hysterically at the sight of the foam. But they were as somber and silent as rocks.

"Margo? Vanessa?" Stacey said. She steadied Claire and began to lead her upstairs.

"It's not our fault!" Margo cried. "Really."

"Honest," added Vanessa, wide-eyed. "Don't blame us." She was so upset, she forgot to rhyme her words.

Stacey made a huge effort to control her temper. "What happened?" she asked.

Nobody said a word.

"Claire?" Stacey peered into Claire's face, wiping away some foam.

"Shampoo," Claire managed to reply.

"Shampoo? Is that all?" said Stacey, suddenly feeling better. "You guys tried to give your sister a shampoo? Well, what's wrong with that? It was very thoughtful. I just wish you'd asked me first. Come on, Claire. All we have to do is wash it out."

Still the girls remained quiet. Stacey noticed that the foam was unlike any she'd seen before. It was thick, almost as thick as shaving cream, and just slightly blue in color. But Stacey didn't pay any attention to that. She simply drew a bath for Claire, stripped off her clothes, and sat her in the tub. Then she began to rinse the