Dunc and the Haunted Castle (2 page)

T.J.’s dad put the suitcases in the back of the rented station wagon. “As soon as I get a chance, I’m going to trade this wagon in for a four-wheel drive. The road leading up to the castle is a little rough.”

“The realtor, Mr. Macbeth, told us that’s the reason we got the castle so cheap,” T.J. said. “Normally castles, even small ones like ours, aren’t for rent, and when they are, nobody can afford them.”

Amos hit his head on the roof of the car. He jerked his seat belt tighter. “How much farther?”

“We’re almost there.” T.J. pointed out the
window. “Dunbar Castle is just on the other side of that hill.”

“Is that the owner’s name?” Dunc asked.

T.J. shrugged. “We’ve never met the owner. Mr. Macbeth said the owner is a recluse and wants to remain anonymous. Dad sends the rent checks to the realtor.”

Dunc rubbed his chin. “That’s strange. I wonder why.…”

“Don’t look a gift castle in the mouth,” Amos said. “Especially one with servants.”

Mr. Tyler glanced back at Amos. “There are only two people who work full time at the castle. Mrs. Knox and Mr. Smith. Sometimes Mrs. Knox’s son Jimmy works part time. The owner hired them more to keep the place in good condition than to wait on us.”

“Mrs. Knox is the one I told you about,” T.J. whispered. “The witch.”

Mr. Tyler frowned. “Mrs. Knox isn’t a witch. She’s just a little odd. Some of the old Scottish traditions are different from what you’re used to.”

“Who’s Mr. Smith?” Dunc asked.

“The grounds keeper. He’s strange too,” T.J. said. “He’s always watching me. Everywhere
I go, he’s there. He sort of pops up out of nowhere.”

T.J.’s dad drove across a bridge and through a large open iron gate. “Here we are, boys. Dunbar Castle.”

The courtyard was dimly lit. A tall, thin man with a red beard appeared from the shadows and started unloading the suitcases.

“Boys, this is Mr. Smith.” T.J.’s dad took one of the suitcases. “Mr. Smith, this is Amos Binder and Duncan Culpepper.”

Mr. Smith stared at Dunc. “Duncan. Now that’s a fine Scottish name.” He turned away abruptly and carried the boys’ things through the massive oak front door.

Amos looked at T.J. “Are all the natives as friendly as he is?”

“I told you he was strange.” T.J. led them inside the dark castle. “This big room is what they call the great hall.”

“I’d probably be impressed—if I could see it,” Amos said. “Don’t people in Scotland believe in electricity?”

Mr. Tyler handed Amos a candle. “That’s one of the problems with being so far out. We’re on a generator. The place is too big for
the generator to light up everything all at once, so at night we use candles.” He gave a candle to T.J. “Show the boys their rooms. I’ll see if Mrs. Knox left us anything for supper.”

T.J. headed for the stairs. “Follow me.”

The flickering light of Amos’s candle cast eerie shadows on the wall as they climbed the stone staircase. “This place is kind of spooky.”

“Mrs. Knox told me the place is haunted.” T.J. stopped in front of a suit of armor. “By the guy who used to wear this. Robert Ramsey. There’s a full-length painting of him down in the library.”

“Who is he?” Dunc asked.

“Mr. Knox says he’s a hero. There was a big battle fought not too far from here, and this Ramsey guy gave his life defending the Stone of Scone, the Scottish symbol of royal authority.”

Dunc took a closer look at the armor. “What makes her think he haunts the castle?”

“She says he was beheaded during the battle and at night he walks the ramparts looking for his head.”

Amos shivered. “You left out the part about a headless ghost in your letter.”

“Is this ghost business what you needed our help with?” Dunc asked.

“Keep your voice down,” T.J. whispered. “You never know who might be listening. Come on. I’ll show you where your rooms are. We’ll talk about it after supper.”

A gust of wind came out of nowhere. T.J.’s candle blew out. Someone grabbed Dunc from behind and pulled him into a secret passage in the wall.

Amos held his candle up. He took a couple of faltering steps. “T.J.? Dunc? Where are you guys?”

The row of paintings hanging on the wall seemed to be glaring down at him. There was something about one of them. He brought his candle closer.

The eyes in the painting moved.

Amos was still mad. “It wasn’t funny. I nearly messed my pants.”

“I’m sorry, Amos,” T.J. said. “I was just trying to prove my point.”

“What was your point?” Amos sneered. “To see how long it would take me to have a major heart attack?”

“I said I was sorry.” T.J. sat on the bed in Amos’s room. “I only pulled Dunc into that secret passage so I could show you guys how easy it is to listen to someone’s conversation without them knowing. I didn’t know he would look through the eyes in the painting. We’re going to have to be very careful.”

“Yeah,” Amos growled. “Careful about which cousins we trust in the future.”

“How did you find that passage?” Dunc asked.

“I guess you could say I fell into it. I was testing my latest invention. I think I told you about it in one of my letters—antigravity air shoes? Anyway, they got away from me on the stairs, and I grabbed that ugly little stone statue to keep from falling. When I pulled on it, the wall just sort of opened up—and there it was.”

“Have you explored the whole passage?”

“No. Only parts of it. I’m pretty sure it goes all over the lower part of the castle. But I’ve only been to the kitchen and the library.”

“Then how do you know it’s safe for us to talk in here?” Dunc looked around Amos’s room. A sword and shield hung on one wall and a tapestry on another. The only furniture was a four-poster bed, a nightstand, a dresser, and an overstuffed chair. A large stone fireplace was built into the corner.

“I don’t. So far I haven’t found any way they could listen up here, but that doesn’t mean—”

“Wait a minute.” Amos held up his hand.
“Headless ghosts, secret passages. Who’s listening? What’s going on here?”

“That’s what you guys are going to help me find out. I hope.” T.J. lowered his voice. “At night you can hear these strange sounds. And everybody around here acts like they’re hiding something.”

“That’s it?” Amos shook his head. “That’s all you’ve got? You dragged us halfway around the world and made me miss my date with Melissa to tell us that you’ve been hearing things?”

“You’ll see for yourself, later tonight,” T.J. said. “So you finally got a date with Melissa?”

“I was about to. See, she called to invite me to this dance, but I didn’t quite make it to the phone.”

“If you never made it to the phone, how do you know Melissa was calling you?”

“Don’t confuse him with reality,” Dunc said. “What does your dad think about all this?”

T.J. sighed. “Dad says he can’t hear anything from his room. He thinks it’s probably a case of too much rich Scottish food just before bedtime.”

“Speaking of food”—Amos picked up his candle—“which way to the kitchen?”

“Go on down, Amos,” Dunc said. “We’ll be right behind you.”

Amos took a step toward the door. He stopped. Dead. “Why don’t we all go down together? Close together.”

“Hold on.” T.J. jumped off the bed. “I just remembered, I have something else to show you. Wait here. I’ll be right back.”

Dunc pulled a notepad from his pocket and moved closer to Amos’s candle and started writing.

Amos’s shoulders drooped. “Don’t do that.”

“What?”

“Don’t start with that notebook stuff. When you do that, it means you’re about to play private eye.”

“A good detective always takes notes. I’ve explained this to you before. Someday when we’re famous, you’ll be thanking me.”

“I’m sure.”

T.J. came back into the room carrying a bottle. “I found this in the secret passage.”

Dunc took the bottle. “There’s no label. What is it?”

T.J. popped the lid off. “Take a whiff.”

“Uggh!”

“What is it?” Amos asked. “Poison?”

“Worse.” Dunc put the lid back on. “I think it’s—whisky.”

The headless suit of armor made loud clanking noises as it floated through the air. It was coming right at him. Amos rolled to the side just as it reached for him.

Amos landed on the stone floor beside his bed. He opened his eyes, sat up, and looked around the room. No ghosts. No suit of armor. It was a dream. He let out a sigh of relief and shook his head. “Dunc told me I’d have nightmares if I ate that fifth piece of apple pie.”

He sat in the dark for a few minutes wondering where he had left his candle. Then he heard the loud clanking noise again.

It wasn’t a dream. He felt around on the night table for matches. Three tries, and he
finally managed to light his candle. He searched the room. Nothing.

Amos sat down on the bed. “This is crazy. It’s probably the high altitude. I’m not getting enough oxygen to my brain.”

He started to blow out the candle when he heard it again: a loud noise like metal hitting metal. It seemed to be coming from inside the fireplace.

Amos cautiously inched over to the fireplace. He stepped up onto the hearth and looked in. Nothing unusual—just a regular everyday fireplace. Amos turned to step back down. His bare foot landed on something sharp. He jerked it up and fell backward against the wall of the fireplace. It started to move.

Amos screamed, just before being swallowed by the fireplace.

“Amos?” Dunc, hearing the scream, came flying into Amos’s room. T.J. was on his heels. Dunc pointed his pen flashlight at the bed. “He’s gone.”

T.J. held his candle up. “Listen. I hear something.”

“It’s coming from over there.” Dunc threw the light on the fireplace. “Amos?”

“I’m in here.” The voice was muffled, blurred.

“Amos, what are you doing behind the fireplace?”

“Checking for termites. Don’t be stupid. Get me out of here!”

“How’d you get back there? I can’t find a door.”

“There’s no door. I fell on this lever, and the whole wall turned around.”

T.J. stepped close to the back of the fireplace. “Amos, push on the lever again.”

“I can’t find it. My candle went out. I dropped it when the wall turned.”

Dunc searched the wall. He pushed and pulled on everything. “There’s nothing on this side.”

“I’ve got an idea.” T.J. headed for the door. “Tell Amos to hang on. The cavalry’s coming.”

“What’s going on out there?” Amos yelled through the wall. “Are you guys going to get me out of here or what?”

“T.J.’s working on something.”

“Tell him to hurry. There are big hairy creatures keeping me company back here.”

Dunc could hear muffled voices coming from behind the wall. “Amos? Are you okay?”

The wall slowly creaked open.

Amos blasted through the opening. T.J. followed carrying a small white mouse. “Here’s his big hairy creature.”

Amos shrugged. “It was dark.”

Dunc looked at T.J. “How’d you get back there?”

T.J. put the mouse on the floor. “I figured if his fireplace did it, mine would too. I was right.”

“This is great.” Dunc sat on the arm of the overstuffed chair. “There are probably secret passages all over this place. Tomorrow we’ll follow as many as we can, and—”

“Not this boy.” Amos shook his head. “Huh-uh.”

“Why not?” Dunc asked. “Don’t you want to find out what’s going on here?”

“I already know something weird is going on. That’s why I’m not going.”

T.J. looked puzzled. “I don’t get it. Earlier, you said you thought—”

“That was earlier. Before I heard the—it.”

“You heard the noise?” T.J. asked. “What did it sound like to you?”

“It sounded like a machine—that walks—and
has big yellow monster eyes—and eats people.”

“Amos.” Dunc gave him a look.

Amos hated it when Dunc said his name like that. As if he were a three-year-old. “Well, it did.”

“That’s what I thought too,” T.J. said. “I mean, I thought it sounded like some kind of machine.”

Dunc rubbed his chin. “I wonder why anyone would go to the trouble to hide a machine in an old Scottish castle.”