Chapter Ten:
Out of Time
At dinner that night, Jamie and I told Pop-Pop about our day’s activities. We told him all about meeting Aunt Sally and about finding the clue that read, You must have found clues 1,2,3, and now you have found number 4, but to find the actual treasure, you must go off to war. When he only nodded his head, I realized something was not right.
“What’s wrong, Pop-Pop? Aren’t you excited? We’ve almost found it.”
Pop-Pop looked up from his plate and sighed. “Yes, Abby, I am excited. It’s just that—well, it looks like we’ve run out of time.”
I waited until I had finished chewing and wiped my mouth with my napkin before saying, “What do you mean?”
Jamie, who had been shoveling his food into his mouth as fast as his arm would let him, stopped and joined in the conversation. “Yeah, what do you mean we’re out of time?”
Pop-Pop set his fork down beside his plate. He folded his hands in a prayer position and rested his chin on top of them. “There’s a young couple coming to look at Uncle Harold’s house tomorrow. They’ve already seen the outside and the property. I talked with the fellow on the phone, and he told me that they were in a big hurry to buy a house, and that they would like to see the inside as soon as possible. I’m sorry, kids.”
Jamie and I looked at each other, then at Pop-Pop. “What are you talking about?” I asked. “The outside of the house is horrible. The paint is peeling, and several of the windows are cracked. Why would anyone want to buy that old house?” I was almost screaming, but I didn’t care.
Pop-Pop answered, “According to the man, they are looking for a fixer-upper. They recently moved to this area, and they don’t have a lot of money to invest in a home. While Uncle Harold’s house is enormous, it is in need of a lot of repair, and therefore, Uncle Harold is selling it for a low price.” Pop-Pop paused, then sighed. “Maybe it’s for the best. After all, Uncle Harold does need the money. And, they seem like nice people, although a little strange.”
In a calmer voice, I asked, “What do you mean strange?”
Pop-Pop snickered. “Oh, it’s nothing, but when I asked him what brought them to this area, he mumbled something about his old house being haunted.. I’m not sure if he was joking or what, but he sounded scared when he was talking about it. Pretty odd, huh? I mean, I just can’t imagine a grown man being afraid of ghosts and other such nonsense. What is this world coming to?”
Jamie and I shrugged.
Pop-Pop picked up his plate, set it in the sink, and filled the sink with water. As we gathered the rest of the dishes he said, “Look on the bright side—at least we won’t have to clean that old house anymore.” Even though he was smiling, I could tell he was nearly as disappointed as I was.
That night before going to sleep, Jamie and I discussed what we should do next. We had found out from Pop-Pop that the couple was going to look at Uncle Harold’s house at eleven the next morning. That didn’t give us very much time to search the house again. Plus, we had no idea what the last clue even meant. Where were we supposed to look?
After an hour, we still didn’t have any ideas as we decided to go to sleep. It was the middle of the night when the answer came to me. It was perfect, and I knew if we planned it just right, we could pull it off.
Since Jamie was still sharing my room, I woke him and told him about my plan. He agreed to it with a huge yawn, then flopped back down on his pillow. I glanced at the small clock on the nightstand. It was nearly two o'clock in the morning. I reached over and set the alarm for six. If we were going to make a haunted house, we would need to get an early start.
After getting dressed and eating breakfast, Jamie and I headed out the back door. I left a note on the kitchen table telling Pop-Pop that we were going to meet Scott and Phyllis (which was true—I just didn’t say where we were meeting them). As we walked down the gravel driveway, I stopped to adjust the bag I carried across my shoulder, in addition to my emergency bag. It contained rope, wire cutters, three sheets, a tape recorder, a few extra snacks, and the stuffed owl from the wall upstairs.
We got to Scott’s house a little after six-thirty. He and Phyllis were sitting on the steps of the front porch. When they saw us, they stood and walked over to meet us.
“You want me to carry that?” Scott asked, pointing to the bulging bag on my shoulder.
A strange warmth came over me as I handed him the bag. “Sure, thanks!”
“So,” Phyllis snapped, “what’s the deal? When you called this morning you said you would tell us all about it when you got here. You’re here, so tell us what’s going on!”
Startled, I turned to face Scott. Phyllis had always been so kind to us. Why was she being so rude?
Scott shrugged his shoulders. “Sorry! She’s not a morning person. She’ll be fine in a couple of hours. Let’s talk while we head to the house. I’m guessing that’s where we’re going. Am I right?”
I nodded. On the short walk to Uncle Harold’s house, I explained my plan in great detail. I also filled Scott and Phyllis in about the details of our treasure hunt and the fourth clue. I didn’t, however, mention anything else about our visit with Aunt Sally. Just remembering her “fish” and other animals made me feel a little crazy myself. Besides, there were more important things to think about.
By ten-thirty, we had everything in place for the big scare and had only to wait for Pop-Pop to show up with the couple, which didn’t take long. Within five minutes, Pop-Pop’s truck, followed by a long silver car, pulled in front of the house. The four of us hurried to our hiding places and waited to begin the show.
I stood in the secret passage behind one of the large paintings in the living room. I removed the small board on which the eyes of the model were painted. Peering through the eye holes, I could see Pop-Pop and the couple enter the living room.
“Phyllis,” Pop-Pop said to the girl seated on the couch. “What are you doing here?”
“I came over with Jamie this morning. He said he needed my help with something, but I wasn’t able to help much. So, he told me to send you into the den when you got here.” She paused and looked at the smiling couple. “It’s VERY important.”
Pop-Pop sighed, turning to the couple. “If you would excuse me for just a moment. It seems my grandson is in need of some help. Please feel free to look around.” He turned to look at Phyllis. “Maybe you could tell them a little bit about the neighborhood. I know your family has lived here for many years.”
Phyllis smiled. “I’d be happy to.” After watching Pop-Pop leave the room, she turned back to the couple and whispered, “You don’t want to buy this house.”
The couple only smiled at her and said, “We’ll see about that. After all, that’s why we’re here.”
Phyllis shook her head and leaned closer to them. “No, I’m serious. You don’t want this house. It’s . . .haunted!”
On cue, I made a small moaning sound from my hiding place. The man and woman each jumped at the noise.
“What was that?” the woman asked her husband with a tremble in her voice.
“It’s the spirit of Widow Arnold,” Phyllis said. “She’s the one who haunts this place.”
The man shook his head and gave a small laugh. “That’s ridiculous.” But he still looked around the room like he was waiting for something to jump out at him.
Phyllis continued. “Poor Widow Arnold. She lived in this house all her life. But one night—well, nobody’s sure what really happened that night. All we know is that the next morning, Widow Arnold was lying dead on the ground outside. Someone had pushed her out the attic window.”
The man and woman became pale and started to shake.
“Isn’t it possible that she fell?” asked the woman.
Phyllis plopped back down on the sofa, and the couple followed her, seeming to be glad to have somewhere to sit.
“No,” Phyllis stated. “She didn’t fall. You see, the house was a mess—like someone had been looking
for something. And, if that’s not proof enough, when they found her body, her head was missing.”
The woman gasped and grabbed the man’s hand. He looked at Phyllis and then turned back to his wife. “It’s okay, Dear. This child is just telling us a ghost story. I’m sure there’s no truth to it. Now, shall we see the house?”
“You don’t believe me?” Phyllis shouted as she reached into her pants pocket. “Here, read it for yourself.” She held out the newspaper clipping that I had made on the computer that morning. (Did you know there are web sites where you can make your own newspaper articles, and they look like the real thing? It's amazing what you can do on the Internet.)
The couple sat on the sofa and read the paper silently. When they finished, the man handed the paper back to Phyllis with his shaking hand.
At this point, Phyllis added the finishing touch. “Creepy, huh? Yeah, they say that the police never found her head, but I think it’s here in the house somewhere.”
“Wh-wh-why would you th-th-think that?” asked the woman.
“Because everyone that’s lived here since then has left within a few days of moving in. They all claimed to have seen Widow Arnold’s bloody head. Yep, it’s here in this house somewhere. That’s why I wouldn’t want to live here.”
I made the moaning sound again, only this time, louder.
The man jumped off the couch. “Where is that coming from?”
Phyllis walked forward and pointed up at the picture I was hidden behind. “I told you. It’s coming from Widow Arnold.”
When I had the attention of both the man and woman, I darted my eyes back and forth, then rolled them around and around, all the while moaning and screeching.
The woman’s face went even more pale as she took a step back and raised a shaking finger. “Did you see that? The eyes in the painting—they moved!”
The man didn’t say anything, only nodded his head. He pushed the woman in the direction he had seen Pop-Pop go earlier. “Let’s see what the old man has to say about this. I’m sure it’s nothing, Sweetie.”
By this time, Jamie had led Pop-Pop all over the house looking for his lost flashlight (which really was lost. . .somewhere). They were upstairs in the library when the man and woman left the living room, which worked out very well for the next step of my plan.
When the couple arrived in the empty den, they appeared surprised by the size and beauty of the room. They were so caught up in exploring the room that they seemed to have forgotten about the “ghosts.” We couldn’t let that happen. Could we?
Scott was hiding behind another secret panel in the den. When he saw the people in position, he pushed the button on the old video projector we had found in the attic the day before. That morning we had found the perfect film to go with it. A ghostly image appeared on the full length mirror that hung on the wall between two windows. The image was that of a woman (the same woman who was in the picture I was hiding behind). She was sitting in a rocking chair and crying.
Since I was hiding in the living room at the time and couldn’t see what was happening, Scott and Phyllis filled me in later. The woman was the first to notice the image. She ran to her husband’s side and pointed to the mirror. “It’s her. It’s Widow Arnold, just like the little girl said. She’s crying over losing her life.”
The man was moving his mouth, but no words were coming out. When he was able to speak, he turned his attention to Phyllis who had followed them into the room. “I don’t know what’s going on here, nor do I wish to find out. Would you please tell the old man that we have changed our minds and are going to look elsewhere?” Grabbing his wife’s hand, he turned around and hurried out the front door, not daring to look back.
That was easy, I thought as I watched them go. And a bit disappointing. We had spent all morning planning several good scares for them, and they ran off after just a couple. Oh, well. At least they were gone.
I was just about to leave my hiding place when Pop-Pop and Jamie entered the living room. They were staring at the front door, but then turned to look at Phyllis.
“Where did they go?” Pop-Pop asked.
Phyllis hung her head. “Um, they said that they changed their minds.”
“What on earth would make them do that? What did you say to them?”
Jamie was inching toward the newspaper clipping that was lying just inside the front door. The man had obviously dropped it on his way out. He had just reached down to pick it up when Pop-Pop stopped him.
“What’s that, Jamie?”
Jamie froze. He looked up at Pop-Pop and then back down at the paper. “It’s nothing—just a piece of paper.” He jerked it off the floor and wadded it up in his hand. “I’ll go throw it away.”
“Wait a minute,” Pop-Pop said, holding out his hand toward Jamie. “Let me see that.”
When Jamie looked up, I could see the terror in his eyes. He held up his hand with the crumpled paper.
Pop-Pop held the paper as his eyes scanned the page. He focused his gaze on Jamie and then Phyllis. “Where did you get this?”
Jamie and Phyllis looked at each other and then turned their gazes to the picture I was hiding behind.
Pop-Pop followed their gaze. “Abigail Patterson, come out here right now!”
I sighed. Boy, are we in trouble now!
The Delaware Detectives Page 10