The Mysterious Messenger

by Gilbert Ford

  Everything was still.

  As it should be.

  Suddenly, her hand pulled back. Then forward. Then this way and that—in quick swoops. The pen balanced between her knuckles, forming tiny flourishes of fine penmanship.

  Then her hand stopped, and the pen rolled off her knuckles.

  Maria awoke from her trance a little groggy, with the warmth returning to her fingers. She picked up the paper and gave it a read:

  Poor, penniless Mrs. Fisher

  Will miss the ring on her finger.

  But hidden inside her flat,

  Her fortune rests untapped.

  Mr. Fisher hopes that you’ll help her

  Find what she will treasure.

  Maria was puzzled by the message. Edward usually gave details about the dead that contradicted her mother’s charade, but never a request.

  Maria read the note again, allowing Mrs. Fisher’s troubles to sink in. It was clear that the widow was broke. But so was Maria. Mrs. Fisher’s late husband had asked that she help her find wealth hidden in her flat—her apartment. Edward knew Maria was forbidden to talk to anyone. Why was he asking her this favor now? But this was Edward, and she trusted him more than her mother. And maybe there was something in it for Maria—like treasure. Maria scrunched her brow. “Okay. Tell me where the fortune is, Edward.”

  Maria positioned the pen in place between her knuckles, closed her eyes again, and rested back in her chair. She waited for Edward to take hold of her hand.

  And suddenly he did.

  Maria’s hand traveled the paper, back and forth, allowing the pen to make its mark. She could almost feel him reaching over her, as her hand lost all feeling from the cold that engulfed it.

  WHAM!

  The pen fell to the floor.

  Maria opened her eyes. She heard footsteps down the hall. Her mother must have returned! Quickly, she read the message:

  Tell her first:

  Remember the light of the silvery moon

  And the honeymoon a–shining in June.

  What was this? Was she supposed to relay a cheesy love note to Mrs. Fisher from her late husband? She could get in a lot of trouble for contacting Mrs. Fisher.

  The bickering of Mr. Fox and Madame Destine echoed down the hallway to the kitchen. Trying not to panic, Maria shoved the two sheets of paper under the fruit bowl. Then she picked up the mop and slid the soapy water across the floor.

  Madame Destine entered with a plastic sack and slammed a jar of salsa on the counter. “Still at it?” she asked Maria before popping open the lid. “We’re having chips and dip for dinner.”

  Mr. Fox entered the kitchen with a mouth full of tortilla chips, the crumbs stuck to the front of his turtleneck. Madame Destine glanced behind her at Mr. Fox. “Or just dip,” she added.

  Maria put the mop away. Then she turned on the stove and emptied the contents of the jar into the pot. Her stomach growled, but she refrained from taking a bite of the sauce before it cooked. She sprinkled salt and pepper onto the mushy substance while it hissed and popped against the pot. Maria made a disgusted face. Her last three meals had been chips and dip.

  If only she could have a real meal.

  They needed that ring from the widow or else she would starve. “When do you think she’ll call?” Maria asked.

  “Give it a day or two,” stated Madame Destine in an absent voice, her eyes scanning the obituaries at the kitchen table.

  Mr. Fox finished the chips and crinkled the bag. “Mark my words, she’ll call tonight,” he said. He dug in his pocket and pulled out his cell phone.

  Maria removed three bowls from the cupboard and spooned two scoops of the hot dip into each bowl. She set the food on the table and said, “Dinner is served!”

  The three sat at the table and shoveled the hot salsa into their mouths, staring at the silent phone with hungry eyes.

  And like a strange omen, the phone rang, and the three of them jumped.

  Mr. Fox lunged for the cell phone and fumbled with it before he was able to answer. “B-B-Brooklyn Urban Youth Initiative for Tomorrow! This is Benjamin speaking!” he declared in a professional voice that almost sounded intelligent to Maria. She was impressed and nodded to her mother.

  Madame Destine looked directly at Mr. Fox and mouthed, Is it her?

  Mr. Fox brought his thumb up and smiled. “Yes, we do accept donations, including jewelry … It’s for the annual fund-raiser auction. Yes. In the past some of the jewelry has sold for a bundle and kept our organization going strong.”

  Madame Destine nodded, satisfied with the delivery of Mr. Fox’s answers. Maria had heard them rehearsing the scheme ever since her mother had thought it up. Madame Destine nudged Maria and said under her breath, “If you wanna get anywhere in this world, don’t have a bank account. Operate in jewels and cash only. Otherwise you leave a paper trail that can be followed.”

  Maria had no clue what her mother meant, but she knew the ring would soon be in their hands, just like the other times. There had been the psychic hotline until they got rid of the landline. Then there was the internet astrology scheme and the psychic life coach for bankers willing to make risky investments. And all of these schemes had filled her stomach with food.

  But Edward had asked her to help Mrs. Fisher, a woman who was penniless just like them. She felt slightly guilty for having a small part in the con, yet why had Edward asked her to help THIS particular widow and not the other victims? Maria wanted to do the right thing; she really did. But would it be worth her starving? She decided to compromise. She would help Mrs. Fisher find her fortune, but only after they got her ring. It was a tactic she’d learned from her mother: You scratch my back, I’ll scratch yours.

  “So, you wanna think about it?” continued Mr. Fox. “Well, we would really appreciate the donation … Yes, the fund-raiser is soon … We’re just getting the dates squared away … The sooner you drop off the donation, the better … Drop it by my office on Waverly like it says on the website … Right. By the garage in the alley … You want a day to think about it? Well, suit yourself.”

  Mr. Fox ended the call and hit the table with his fist. “She’s not sold on it!”

  “Not sold?” Madame Destine declared with astonishment. “This is my best plan yet!”

  “She needs a day to think it over,” said Mr. Fox, as he wiped his mouth with his sleeve. Then he threw his spoon in his bowl.

  Madame Destine’s face lost all color. In a whisper, she said, “You know what this means, don’t you, Fox?” She pushed her bowl away and leaned toward him. “She’s gonna do one of two things: investigate the organization or come back here looking for more proof that she really was talking with her husband!”

  Mr. Fox’s eyebrows bunched together. “You know anything else about her dead hubby?”

  “Nothing!” Madame Destine’s voice hammered.

  The room was silent. Maria knew she must get the message to Mrs. Fisher, but when would she be able to talk to her? Even if Mrs. Fisher returned to their apartment, there was a chance Maria would be at the library. Maria cleared her throat. “Why don’t you let me talk to her?”

  Madame Destine and Mr. Fox turned to Maria. For a moment, time stopped, lost in the frostbite of their eyes.

  “Maybe talking to a child would soften her heart and make it easier to give her pledge?” Maria shrugged, but there was worry in her voice. She tried to act as if her suggestion was completely normal, but she knew it wasn’t. Maria grew anxious and stood up from the table, clearing it and rushing over to the sink.

  “What a load of bunk!” snapped Mr. Fox. “You see, Destine?” he said, rubbing his jaw. “She’s getting too smart for her own good!”

  Madame Destine narrowed her eyes and pulled out the two sheets of paper from under the fruit bowl. “What’s this? ‘Remember the light of the silvery moon, and the honeymoon a-shining in June.’ Who’s this to, Maria?”

  Maria dropped one of the bowls, and it shattered on the floor.

&n
bsp; She felt as if she was not inside her body. Maria frantically tried to come up with some excuse, but all she could think of was what her mother would do if she found out about Edward. Would she force her to con widows by pumping Edward for information about their dead relatives? Or would she think Maria had lost her mind and send her away? Maria didn’t want to find out. “It’s just some research I was doing in the library,” she said in a chipper tone. At that moment, Maria needed Edward with her. Just the cool tingling of his presence would be enough to comfort her.

  “And what’s this paper say?” asked Madame Destine. Her eyes scanned the second page. “This is about Mrs. Fisher … and her ring … and her fortune?”

  “FORTUNE! FORTUNE!” squawked Houdini.

  “That’s right!” Madame Destine’s smile was thin and sharp. She rubbed her parrot’s head and sang, “Fortuuuuune!” Then she stopped and addressed Maria. “Whose handwriting is this? The librarian’s?”

  Mr. Fox peered over Madame Destine’s shoulder and scratched at his head through his cap.

  “Yes!” Maria said, a little out of breath while she swept up the shards of broken bowl. “It’s just something she copied from a book and gave me. I was researching the Fisher family.”

  Madame Destine’s smile fell flat, and a hard crease pulled her lip up to her nose. “Don’t toy with me, child! What’s this about a ring? Did you tell someone about our scheme?”

  “Not at all! I talk to NO ONE, like you’ve told me,” Maria said, trying to stay calm. “It’s just a coincidence that a ring is mentioned in the passage.”

  Madame Destine’s eyes pressed into Maria, but she said nothing. Instead, she folded the two papers into a tiny square and stuffed them into her fur coat. Then she slowly eased back in her chair while Houdini wobbled on her shoulders.

  Maria felt the cool-air tingle of Edward’s presence, and she felt safe again. She took a deep breath and straightened her posture. “If you’ll excuse me, I think I’ll go read in my room.”

  Neither Madame Destine nor Mr. Fox moved their lips to respond. Their unblinking eyes said it all, probing Maria for more.

  Maria turned around and headed to her closet with all the confidence she could muster. But in the back of her mind, she wondered if she was walking away from a terrible accident.

  4

  A Restless Spirit

  The next day, Maria hurried down the uneven sidewalk to the library. The one-story, modern structure was wedged between two four-story Victorian brownstones and reminded her of an adopted child standing between older parents. The library building, like her, was a misfit in its surroundings. But upon entering the two doors, she felt safe and welcome.

  Although Maria had read all the books in the small children’s section, she didn’t mind revisiting them. After all, they’d been her lifelong friends.

  Today she needed to cover her tracks and make it look like she’d been researching the Fishers. Mr. Fox and her mother were already suspicious. She’d spent a restless night in her closet worrying about her mother confiscating Edward’s words. She was happy to escape the house for the library, which was the only place she was allowed to go. Since Madame Destine homeschooled her, she had to let her daughter get books from somewhere.

  Maria searched the obituaries, jotting down any notes. Then she sighed. What she wanted right now was to escape. Escape from her lonely life conning widows. She folded the paper and scanned the library. It was mostly strollers and nannies, but there was one kid there. It was the boy who had moved in upstairs from her—she knew because he was always wearing a red ball cap. He had a light brown complexion and a nice smile and appeared to be immersed in his book. Her mother had forbidden Maria from speaking to him.

  Maria didn’t own any books at home. She had no television, no music, no computer—no possessions of any kind; just plain, blank sheets of paper and a couple of pens. But in the library, for brief moments, she could read books and live other people’s lives.

  She’d read everything by Louis Sachar, Natalie Lloyd, and Sheila Turnage. She’d gone along with Cass and Max-Ernest on their adventures against the Midnight Sun in the Secret Series. She’d been there with Mary when she discovered the key to the door in The Secret Garden. And she’d helped Kyle solve the clues in the Lemoncello books.

  Maria sank deep into her chair and blew the hair from her face. “How do I find her, Edward?” she said, half to herself and half to his spirit, who she hoped was somewhere nearby listening. “Where should I look for Mrs. Fisher? If you’re there, tell me what I should do.” Maria glanced around to make sure no one was watching.

  She saw Ms. Madigan, scarcely the size of a splinter and lit with red hair, shelving books. She seemed too busy to pay attention to what Maria was about to do. Maria closed her eyes and balanced the pen between her knuckles on top of the paper, then waited for the familiar tingle of Edward to take hold and guide her. She waited and waited until—

  “Maria, what are you doing?”

  Maria took a quick breath and slowly opened her eyes. There was no telling how many hours she’d been sitting there.

  Ms. Madigan stood before her with a police officer in a black uniform. “We’re closing soon,” she said, “But I’d like you to speak to Officer O’Malley for a few minutes before you go.”

  A policeman? Here to see her? Maria darted her eyes around the library and realized that most of the visitors had left. She swallowed, trying not to think what would happen if her mother knew a cop wanted to ask her a few questions. That was her mother’s golden rule: no talking to the police. But she had no choice. “Uh, okay,” said Maria.

  Officer O’Malley had a bushy brow with a wave of hair that swept above his forehead and splashed into his ears. He pulled out a chair next to Maria’s and eased onto the edge of it, his knees nearly lifting the table in front of him. He leaned in and, in a sympathetic tone, asked, “Is … everything okay at home?”

  Maria could tell by how delicately he asked the question that things definitely didn’t appear okay to him. That Ms. Madigan! She’d tipped off the cop. The librarian seemed so innocent when she took the position there six months ago. First, she’d asked Maria how she enjoyed her books. Then she started suggesting some for her to read. Then the book club. Why was Ms. Madigan interfering with her home life? Maria knew that whatever she did, she must act normal. “Sure,” she said, but it came out in more of a whimper.

  Officer O’Malley’s forehead creased before he leaned in closer to Maria. “Ms. Madigan tells me you’re the star reader in her library club.”

  Maria eyed the book in front of her and brought it closer. She loved the library club, but she couldn’t understand how it had gotten her into trouble with Ms. Madigan.

  “She tells me you’re here every day, unattended by a guardian,” said Officer O’Malley.

  “Mom homeschools me,” Maria said quickly. “She trusts me to do my work without supervis—”

  “I’ve been informed that she homeschools you,” said the officer, cutting her off.

  Ms. Madigan peeked from behind the officer, holding a stack of books as if she intended to shelve them, but she didn’t move. Worry lines formed between her eyebrows.

  “Ms. Madigan informed me she gave you a permission slip to have signed,” said Officer O’Malley.

  “A permission slip?” asked Maria, trying to sound innocent. She vaguely remembered throwing one away two weeks ago. Her mother didn’t want her signature on anything.

  “To be signed by your guardian, so you could have your picture taken next to your book report for the library newsletter.” Officer O’Malley motioned with his eyes to the glass case by the entrance, where Maria’s shadow box was prominently displayed. “Didn’t you give it to her?”

  “No,” said Maria before looking down at the book in front of her. Whatever she did, she needed to get him off her. A snoop could land her mother in jail.

  “You forgot to give her the form?” asked the officer.

  “I do
n’t like having my photo taken,” Maria said, before adding, “I’m camera shy.”

  Officer O’Malley appeared to be thinking as he pursed his lips. “We tried calling your mother at the number on your library account, but it seems as if the phone has been disconnected.”

  “Mom got a cell phone,” Maria said, making her voice firm to dismiss suspicion. “She disconnected the landline.” Maria tilted her head to see behind the officer. Ms. Madigan appeared nervous, shifting the weight of the books to her other arm.

  Officer O’Malley gave a long exhale before he said, “Can I have her new phone number?”

  Maria knew she shouldn’t give the officer her number. If he called, he might discover the scam and arrest her mother, but if she did nothing, it would make him even more suspicious. He might even show up at her house.

  With some hesitation, Maria reached into her pocket, ignoring the library card and loose change, and pulled out the business card she’d designed for Mr. Fox. “Here’s her work number,” said Maria, but before she handed it to him, she stopped. “Is there any reason to call her if I don’t want my picture taken?” Maria tried to steady her hand from trembling.

  Officer O’Malley glanced at Ms. Madigan before he shrugged. “No. I guess not.”

  Maria’s heart pounded as she tried to take slow, steady breaths. She pulled the card away and stuffed it back into her pocket.

  “Can I go now?” asked Maria.

  “Yes, you’re free to go,” said Officer O’Malley.

  Maria grabbed her book and took deliberate steps to the kiosk by the doors. She yanked out her library card from her pocket causing a few coins and something to fall out and hit the floor. Then she scanned her card before holding the book’s barcode under the red light. The kiosk dinged, signaling that the book was checked out. Maria dashed to the entrance.