The Case of the Glow-in-the-Dark Ghost
Page 2
“Come over here, Bigs,” I said. “You’ve got the largest feet in the second grade. Let’s see how your foot compares.”
Bigs placed his foot beside the outline of the footprint. Bigs Maloney’s foot was much, much smaller.
Ms. Gleason stood up and dusted off her hands and knees. “Well, it’s a mystery to me,” she said.
“Not to worry, Ms. Gleason,” I informed her. “Mila and I will get to the bottom of this.”
Ms. Gleason smiled. “It’s awfully nice to have a pair of detectives in the classroom.”
A few minutes later we were jostling near the cubbies, getting our jackets and book bags and lining up for the buses.
Mila handed me a note. It was in code.
Mila and I use codes whenever possible. In the detective business, you can never be too careful. Sure, I suppose Mila could have whispered the message to me. But where’s the fun in that?
I saw that it was a backward code. Mila had been practicing for weeks, so I wasn’t surprised. She taught herself how to write every letter backward. And she wrote the entire message backward, too. It started from the right and went in the wrong direction.
On the way to the bus, I ducked into the bathroom. When I held the message up to the mirror, it was easy to read:
A GHOST WITH FEET? I DON’T THINK SO!
We didn’t talk much on the ride home. There were too many people around. When we stepped off the bus, I asked Mila, “Want to come over?”
“I’m going to meet up with Ralphie,” she answered. “He and I are going to track down Earl Bartholemew. I want to hear more about this dancing ghost.”
I nodded. “Good idea, Mila. I’m going to have a snack and go find my brother Billy. I have a favor to ask him.”
Mila paused. “Speaking of snacks, Jigsaw, what’s the difference between a ghost and a peanut butter sandwich?”
“Beats me.” I shrugged.
“A ghost doesn’t stick to the roof of your mouth!”
Groan. Mila’s a great detective. But she’s not exactly a laugh riot.
Chapter
7
The Plan
I got caught in a tornado as soon as I walked into my house. My brothers Daniel and Nick were wrestling on the floor, kicking and clawing and basically having a great time. Rags was barking at them. Billy was blasting music in his room. I could tell because the walls shook. Hillary was rushing from one room to another, screaming about a lost scrunchie. And my mother was tapping her foot by the front door. I don’t think smoke was actually pouring out of her ears. But she didn’t look happy, either.
A typical day in the Jones house.
“Hillary, you’re going to be late!” my mother bellowed up the stairs. She turned to me and quickly explained, “I’m rushing off to drop Hillary at the Steamer 10 Theater. She has rehearsal. Then I have to pick up a few groceries. Get yourself a snack and start cracking on your homework. I’ll be back in a jiffy.”
“Yeah, sure,” I said. “Hi to you, too.”
My mom looked at me and sighed. “I’m sorry, Jigsaw. It’s been one of those days. How was school?”
“Fine,” I replied. “A ghost has been leaving footprints in room 201.”
My mom wasn’t listening. “That’s nice,” she commented. Then she hollered, “HILLARY ELIZABETH JONES! GET DOWN HERE NOW!”
I leaped out of the way as Hillary jumped down the stairs and flew to the door.
“Hi! Bye!” she said.
Bam. The door slammed shut. And they were gone.
Time for a glass of grape juice. Daniel followed me into the kitchen. When Mom’s not around, we all hunt for junk food. Daniel was humming as he slammed through the cabinets: Da-da-da-DUM, da-da-da-DEE-da-DUM.
“What’s that song?” I asked. “It sounds familiar.”
“I don’t know what it’s called,” Daniel said. “But Hillary’s been singing it all week. I can’t get it out of my head. ‘They did the bash. It was a spooky smash.’”
Daniel stopped singing. “Hey, who finished the Cap’n Crunch?!”
“Beats me,” I murmured.
I got out of there in a hurry.
I made a phone call to Cassandra. She agreed to call me the minute she saw any sign of the ghost.
“So now you believe me, huh?” she asked.
“Let’s just say I’m curious. Tomorrow is Tuesday,” I noted. “You saw the ghost on the past three Tuesdays, isn’t that right?”
Cassandra said I was right. Tomorrow night was our best bet for catching sight of the glow-in-the-dark ghost. That is, if you can count on a ghost to keep to a schedule.
I knocked on Billy’s bedroom door. After a few moments, he turned down the music and let me in.
“Hey, Worm. What’s happening?” he asked.
I told him. Then I added, “I need a big favor.”
“I’ll help you out,” Billy agreed. “No biggie.”
Billy promised to be ready to drive me to school Tuesday night. “What about Mom and Dad?” he asked. “Do you think they’ll let you go?”
“No,” I said. “But I’ll think of something.”
Billy laughed. “I bet you will.” Then he reached for the knob on his stereo. And the music made my ears ring.
The plan was set.
Ding-dong, arf, arf, ARF!
Mila was at the door. For reasons I’ll never understand, my crazy dog thought it was the most exciting thing that had ever happened in his life.
Chapter
8
The Great Escape
Tuesday night. The sun had set. The birds had stopped singing. Darkness had fallen. The minutes ticked past. 8:05 … 8:15 … 8:30. It felt like I had been waiting forever.
I read the notes in my detective journal. Mila had caught up with Earl Bartholemew. He told Mila he had seen the ghost. He admitted that he made up the part about hearing screams just to make the story better. Mila believed him. Like she said to me, “Let’s put it this way. I believe that Earl thinks he saw a ghost.”
I didn’t know what to think. Something weird was going on in our school. Maybe somebody was pretending to be a ghost. But why? In the Scooby-Doo cartoons, it was never a real ghost or a real zombie. At the end, it was always, like, the crabby old woman dressed up as a zombie. It was never a real anything. In fact, it was usually a butler named Cavendish.
8:35 … 8:40 …
Meanwhile, I was hiding out from my parents. They were watching TV in the den, and I’m pretty sure they thought I was sleeping.
Come on, phone, I thought to myself. Please ring.
Bbbbrrring! Bbbbrrring!
Wow. Not bad.
“Hello?”
“Jigsaw, it’s me, Cassandra. I can see the ghost. Hurry!”
So I hurried.
Billy was set to go. Our plan was simple. We weren’t going to lie. We were just hoping to not actually tell the truth.
Soundlessly, we crept to the front door. I quickly put on my shoes and jacket. Billy and I locked eyes. “Ready?” he whispered.
I nodded. Ready.
“I’m going out!” Billy hollered from the front door. “Back in a few minutes.”
“OK, fine,” my mother answered from the den. Good. They were too busy with their TV show to pay attention.
Billy reached for the doorknob. Opened the door. Freedom was just a few steps away. Billy added in a soft voice, “I’m taking Jigsaw with me.”
A pause.
“WHAT?”
Uh-oh.
In a louder voice: “I’m taking Jigsaw with me. Back in a flash.”
“Oh, no, you’re not,” my dad answered.
I could hear the television click off. My parents walked into the living room.
“It’s almost nine o’clock on a school night,” my mother said. “Jigsaw should already be in bed.”
“What’s going on, you two?” my father asked.
Plan A wasn’t working out so swell.
It was time for plan B.
I told my parents everything. And begged. I promised to be back in fifteen minutes. And begged some more. I promised to do dishes every night for a week. I promised to vacuum, too. I said please about five million times. I lost count somewhere along the way.
It wasn’t pretty.
I’m not proud of it.
But it worked.
“Fifteen minutes, Jigsaw,” my father said.
“Or else,” my mother added.
I can’t say I loved the sound of that. But, quick, it was time to go. I had to catch a ghost!
Chapter
9
To Spy a Ghost
“Turn here on Partridge Street. This is where Cassandra lives,” I told Billy.
He eased the car in front of the two-story house and parked.
From our seats, Billy and I had a clear view of the school. There was the playground, and beyond that a long row of classroom windows. All of them were dark.
“I don’t see anything, Jigsaw,” Billy said.
We waited another minute.
Billy reached to turn up the car radio.
“Wait,” I said. “Now do you see it?”
Billy leaned forward, staring intently. “I see it,” he confirmed.
A blue-white shape floated across the windows in one of the classrooms. In a moment, another shape joined it. This one was different somehow—fainter, yellowish.
“Ghosts,” I heard myself say.
“I’m not sure what they are,” Billy said quietly. “But they look like … dancing lights.”
And they did. Up and down, over and across. In rhythm.
Billy snapped his fingers. One-two-three, snap. One-two-three, snap. “The shapes are definitely dancing. And it’s to a rock ’n’ roll beat.”
“What?”
Billy reached over and pushed open the passenger side door. “Go check it out. You’re the detective.”
“What do you mean?”
Billy smirked. “Go solve the mystery,” he urged. “Sneak up to the window and take a closer look.”
“Aren’t you coming with me?” I chirped. (Yes, sad to say, my voiced chirped.)
“Nuh-uh,” Billy replied. He turned up the radio, loud. “And hurry up,” he urged. “I’ve got to get you home soon, or Mom and Dad will turn you into a ghost.”
I tried to swallow, but my throat had gone dry, like I’d eaten a handful of sand.
The field was dark. The trees were shadows reaching up into the night sky. The playground was filled with dark shapes. A breeze kicked up. Creak, squeak. Creak, squeak. I knew that sound. The rusty tire swing.
I told myself that I wasn’t afraid of any ghost.
I almost believed it.
Somehow my feet kept bringing me closer … closer. I was fifty feet away, thirty feet away, ten feet away from the windows.
At first, it was just noise.
Then, music. Definitely music.
Da-da-da-DUM, da-da-da-DEE-da-DUM.
I had to smile when I heard the words: “They did the bash. It was a spooky smash.”
Chapter
10
The Suspect
I crept closer to the window. Suddenly, the lights went out. The room went black. I paused, bent low beneath the window.
Thinking quickly, I dashed around the corner and stopped behind a tree where I could see the front doors of the school. The parking lot was empty, except for a lone car.
Honk, honk.
It was Billy. He wanted me to come back. I waved to him, but I knew he couldn’t see me in the darkness. I couldn’t wait much longer. Just as I was about to leave, I heard jingling and jangling. The big front doors opened and closed. The dark figure of a man locked the doors behind him.
He turned and walked to the parking lot. A big set of keys jingled as he walked. I heard him humming, Da-da-da-DUM, da-da-da-DEE-da-DUM.
Mr. Copabianco!
I stiffened behind the tree, making myself small, silent, unseen.
Could he be the glow-in-the-dark ghost?
Good old Mr. Copabianco?
How? And why?
A moment later I raced across the field, flying over the cool night grass. I slid into the car, and Billy hit the gas.
Ten minutes later I was in bed.
My head was a spiderweb. A tangle of thoughts.
I didn’t fall asleep for a long, long time.
Chapter
11
Finishing the Puzzle
I awoke early.
Solving a mystery is like putting together a jigsaw puzzle. Even after the picture becomes clear, there are always a few pieces that still have to fall into place.
I needed to clear up some facts.
I found Hillary in the bathroom. She was messing around with her hair.
“Hi, Hill,” I said.
She grunted in reply.
“You’ve been pretty busy with that play, or whatever it is that you’ve been doing, huh?”
Hillary grunted again. “Yeah, and I’ve got a killer French test coming up, too.”
“Tell me about your play,” I asked. “What kind of character are you?”
Hillary stopped brushing her hair and looked at me. “Since when do you care?”
I deserved that. I’d been ignoring Hillary for weeks. Whenever she talked, I tried hard not to listen. And that’s no way for a detective to act. I had forgotten the detective’s golden rule: Zip your lips and listen.
“I do care,” I said. “It’s just that … well … sorry.”
Hillary smiled. A bright, beautiful, toothy smile. Maybe she would become an actress someday. “It’s community theater,” she said. “I’m a witch.”
“A witch?”
“Yeah. Warts on my nose, black hat, long fingernails, the works.” She clawed the air like a cat. “You should come. The show is going to be at the Steamer 10 Theater all next week.”
“What’s it called?” I asked.
“The Frightmare on Pine Street,” Hillary replied. “It’s just a bunch of spooky skits, some singing, a little dancing. Maybe even a scare or two.”
“Do you, by any chance, sing a song about a spooky smash?”
Hillary shook her head. “Boy, you are out of it, little brother. I’ve been singing that song all week.”
“Thanks, Hill,” I said. And for no reason at all, I gave her a quick hug.
I told Mila all about it at the bus stop. She pulled on her hair and asked a million questions.
“We’ve still got some detective work to do at school,” I said. “But I’ve got a pretty good idea what we’ll find.”
When the bus dropped us off, we didn’t go right inside the heavy doors. Instead, we walked to the parking lot. “I think this is it,” I said.
“Are you sure this is where you saw his car?” Mila asked.
“Sort of sure,” I said with a shrug. I handed Mila my magnifying glass. “Let’s look around.”
After a couple of minutes, Mila exclaimed, “Jigsaw! Look here! And here … and here!”
Faint blue-white shadows. Footprints. I knew that if I could turn off the sun, they’d glow in the dark.
Chapter
12
Dancing in the Dark
We knocked on the door to the janitor’s room. We could hear Mr. Copabianco humming behind it: Da-da-da-DUM, da-da-da-DEE-da-DUM.
It was one of those songs you just couldn’t get out of your head.
We found Mr. Copabianco sitting at his desk.
On top of the desk was a box. It was overflowing with fake plastic hands, spooky masks, fright wigs, and what looked like a dozen different Halloween costumes.
“What’s all this stuff?” Mila asked.
Mr. Copabianco’s eyes twinkled with delight. “I’m in charge of costumes and special effects for the Halloween show at the Steamer 10 Theater!” he announced. Mr. Copabianco gestured across the crowded room. “Look at my wonderful coffin. I built it myself just la
st night!”
It was true. A wooden coffin leaned against a corner of the room. Happily, there was no vampire inside it.
Mila and I told Mr. Copabianco about Cassandra and what she had seen—the dancing ghosts and glow-in-the-dark footprints.
Mr. Copabianco’s smile grew bigger and bigger. “Yes, yes! That’s me!” he exclaimed. “I’ve been getting ready for the show. It’s a big job,” he said, nodding gravely, “being in charge of the lighting and special effects.”
It was our turn to smile. He seemed so happy, so proud. So thrilled.
“So you’ve been practicing here at night?” Mila asked.
“Yes, yes, right here,” Mr. Copabianco answered. “Every Tuesday, just me. It’s the best place, nice and empty. I even use your classroom sometimes. Ms. Gleason, she’s so nice. She lets me, no problem.”
“Ms. Gleason knows about this?” I asked.
“Knows? Yes, yes—she’s in the show, too!”
Now I’d heard everything. Ms. Gleason saw the glow-in-the-dark footprints and never said a word.
Mila must have been reading my mind, because she said, “Ms. Gleason probably wanted us to have fun with a new mystery.”
I guess Mila was right. Again.
“But how did you do it?” Mila wondered. “The glowing, I mean?”
Mr. Copabianco tapped the side of his head with a finger. “It takes brains, Mila. Big Copabianco brains!” Again, he laughed out loud.
He showed us the special powders and paints he had mixed. The lights, projectors, and other special effects. “It was very tricky at first. Very difficult. I wanted to use lights to make ghosts. But with this special powder I mixed—look!” He poured some on himself. “In the dark, it glows!”
“This must be some play,” I commented.
“Yes, yes! I’m even in it, too,” he said with a huge smile. “Just a very little part at the end. I’m not a big star, Jigsaw, not like your sister. No, no. It’s my first time onstage. Ever! I’m very excited.” He paused and patted his chest, over his heart. “But nervous, too.”