by Gilbert Ford
Madame Destine snatched the paper from the table. “Finally! MY treasure!” she said.
Buzzzz! Buzzzzz! Buzzzzzz!
Lights flickered.
A gust of wind swept through the apartment and ruffled the curtains.
Archimedes hissed and hid under the sofa.
Slam!
Bam!
Ka-bam!
The doors in the apartment shut one by one.
Madame Destine’s eyes were round and white as headlights, searching about the room for the cause of the disturbance. Slowly, she backed away from Maria, clutching the message. “E-E-Eddy? Is it you?”
Maria wondered the same thing.
Could Edward make doors slam? He’d never done that before. A tingle of excitement was all she could feel of his presence. At that moment, Maria wondered if her father had come to rescue her.
25
Cry of the Dead
“Desssssstine!” hissed a whisper in the hallway. “Dessstine!”
Madame Destine backed into the piano, her backside hitting some of the keys. She shot up and rubbed her arms. “Eddy?” she called. “Is it you?”
The light whisper continued. “Desssstine! Let her go!”
Mr. Fox’s jaw fell open.
Mrs. Fisher raised her hand to her heart.
Archimedes peeked from around the sofa again.
Houdini wobbled on Madame Destine’s shoulder as her face lost all color.
But Maria was confused. If Edward could haunt like this, then why hadn’t he done it before? Why did he write through her if he had a real voice? He’d never uttered a single word until now. His presence was always subtle, unnoticeable if she didn’t know what to look for.
“Oh, Eddy! Are you coming for me?” cried Madame Destine. “I’m not ready!”
“Let … her … go!” the voice whispered.
Madame Destine dashed to Maria’s chair. “Did you hear that?” she said. Madame Destine pulled the chair from under Maria so that she had to land on her feet. Maria rushed to Mrs. Fisher’s side.
“I let her go!” said Madame Destine. “Eddy! D-d-don’t hate me! I had my reasons. You left me, remember!” Madame Destine sank into Maria’s chair. Her body seemed deflated, and her hair slipped from under her turban.
“I had no choice!” Madame Destine said. “I needed money! I had your daughter to care for!”
Mr. Fox scratched his head through his cap before raising a brow. He eased away from the living room and snuck down the long hallway toward the bedroom.
“I want you to go far away from this place,” the voice whispered. “And never come back.”
“Oh, Eddy! Please don’t haunt me!” cried Madame Destine. “I’m sorry!” The fake psychic rolled her hands into fists and brought them to her eyes.
Maria squeezed Mrs. Fisher’s hand and pointed. “Over there!”
A dark, cloaked spirit floated down the hall. The ghost seemed to drift lightly past Mr. Fox.
Madame Destine tore her hands away from her eyes before they widened. “Eddy! I had to do what I did to survive! You disappeared in the river! Remember?” Her body shook. She pushed her turban back in place and whined, “What do you want from me? What more can I do? Don’t come for me, Eddy!”
The tiny banshee entered the living room in a mass of black—was it satin bedsheets? Maria took a shallow breath.
Mr. Fox tilted his head, scooting past the ghost before taking a deliberate step so that his shoe pinned down the tail of the floating bedsheet.
The ghost continued to float.
“Okay! You want me to change? Then I’ll change!” screamed Madame Destine.
As the ghost moved forward, the sheet remained pinned under Mr. Fox’s foot and gradually fell away.
Madame Destine’s eyebrows arched. “You!” she said.
Then Maria saw him. It was Sebastian. The dark bedsheet lay limp on the floor behind him.
Sebastian stopped and looked around.
“Sebastian!” cried Maria. He had heard everything on the walkie-talkie. He had come for her!
Disgust overcame Madame Destine. “Sebastian?” she asked. “A dumb kid?” She darted her eyes around the room. “Well, Eddy. It looks like you’re not coming for me, after all!” She pointed at Sebastian and ordered, “Tie him up with the widow!” Then she smiled, rubbing her hands together. “We’ve got a treasure to find, and Maria’s gonna find it for us!”
Maria’s eyes darted from Mrs. Fisher to Sebastian to Mr. Fox and finally Madame Destine. “But I haven’t been able to decipher any of Edward’s clues!” she said.
“You’ll find me that treasure, Maria!” Madame Destine swung the message at her. “I’ll give you five minutes to make sense of it. And if you don’t, then say goodbye to your friends!”
Mr. Fox ripped the bedsheets into long strips and fastened them around the legs and wrists of Sebastian. He did the same to Mrs. Fisher.
Maria took the message. Then she held the paper up and tried to keep from shaking.
She couldn’t swallow because her mouth was dry, but she knew her friends needed her.
Everything depended on her now.
26
To Solve a Riddle
Maria read the message:
You saw the perfect picture once,
In this very room.
The cat was cradled in your arms,
That sunny afternoon.
You have your kindred spirits here;
Those living just make two.
The treasure’s hidden in the place
Reflected inside you.
Maria brought the message down to her side. Then she shook her head. How could Edward do this to her? He’d promised a real treasure for a widow with no money. Now he was telling her it was inside her.
“No,” she whispered. “It’s not that kind of treasure.” She wiped her eyes before her face grew stern. “There’s no gold and silver.”
The floorboards creaked as Madame Destine snaked her way to Maria. Very slowly, she asked, “What do you mean?”
Maria lowered her voice and, without any emotion, replied, “There was never a treasure!” Then she mumbled, “At least, not your kind.”
Maria watched her friends struggling to break free and felt pain. Then she turned to her stepmother.
“The treasure is about love,” Maria said with certainty. Then she narrowed her eyes. “Somehow, I don’t think it’s what you were after.”
Madame Destine crumpled the message and let it fall to the floor.
Houdini flapped his wings before he settled down again.
Madame Destine puffed up her fur collar. Then, in a soft voice, she continued. “If there’s one thing I know about Eddy it’s that his poems had multiple meanings. It’s here. Find the treasure.”
“FIND THE TREASURE!” echoed Houdini.
Maria shook her head. She wondered what Edward’s real intention had been for her all along. Was she supposed to find something hidden in Mrs. Fisher’s apartment? It seemed like he sent her on a treasure hunt in order to connect her with the widow. He must have waited all those years for Mrs. Fisher to come before he sent Maria after her. And now she’d been introduced to jazz, Beat poetry, and abstract art. That would explain why he never told her where the treasure was but kept sending her back so she could become acquainted with Mrs. Fisher and Sebastian. No. She knew now there was never an actual treasure.
Madame Destine placed her fingers lightly on the back of Maria’s head, stroking it in soothing, gentle circles. “There must be something in this room that you saw,” she cooed. “The poem stated, ‘You saw the perfect picture once while standing in this room.’” Madame Destine gave a smile that was as red and ugly as a scab. Then she spun around and pointed to the wall. “Which painting is it? Which one is it hidden behind?” Maria’s stepmother nudged Mr. Fox. “Turn over the paintings until you find a safe!”
Mr. Fox obeyed, ripping the artwork from the walls and knocking the African masks to the floor.
Mrs. Fisher flinched. “There’s nothing in this room!” she said. “I’ve lived here for over sixty years! I think my husband would have told me if he had something of value hidden in here!” Mrs. Fisher struggled to break free again but gave up.
Maria knew it must have pained her to see her things so badly treated.
Sebastian tried to help the widow, but Mr. Fox had done a number on tying his knots.
Maria looked up. Maybe her stepmother was onto something. She was right about one thing: Edward liked to hide multiple meanings in one message.
She surveyed the room. There was the upright piano. At the far end of the room was the dining room table with all the books on top. The trunk where they had tea was just beside the sofa. Behind the sofa was a window and curtains. Then there was the hallway. The rest of the wall held more paintings and the full-length mirror.
Archimedes poked his head around the sofa. He dashed across the living room and down the hallway.
Maria shut her eyes.
She saw the picture of herself holding the cat. It was a bright afternoon, and everyone she loved was reflected behind her in the full-length mirror.
Slowly, she approached the mirror and studied her reflection. Mrs. Fisher and Sebastian were tied up on the sofa behind her. Mr. Fox was tearing down paintings. Madame Destine was rubbing Houdini’s beak.
Could this be what Edward meant?
She pushed the full-length mirror.
Nothing happened.
She knocked on the glass.
It made a dull, hollow sound.
Maria scanned the room for something heavy. Then her eyes rested on a Grecian vase.
She hurried across the living room and stopped at the vase in the hallway. She bent over and used all of her strength to lift it. Then she gripped it and wobbled over to the mirror. Maria hefted the vase up to her shoulders. Then she hurled it at her reflection.
Crash!
Glass shattered. Tiny shards sprinkled in Maria’s hair and about her feet.
Everyone froze.
When Maria had brushed away the tiny flecks of debris from her face, she found herself staring into a black hole. A light breeze blew through it. Where the mirror once stood was a dark passageway.
Mr. Fox dropped a painting and rubbed his hands.
Madame Destine’s eyes grew large, and a smile crept across her face.
Clap.
Clap.
Clap.
She clapped her hands slowly and steadily as she made her way to the secret passage. “Well done, Maria. Well done.”
“That goes down to the basement,” said Mrs. Fisher. “My husband used it for business but sealed it up after his publishing company failed.”
Madame Destine ducked her head inside the entrance and took one timid step inside the hole. Then she turned around and motioned at Mr. Fox. “Watch them!” She pointed at Maria. “You, follow me!”
“YOU, FOLLOW ME!” echoed Houdini.
Maria didn’t know if she should obey or stay with her friends. She’d solved the riddle and found a secret entrance so her stepmother could retrieve the reward. But she knew better than to argue. It was Madame Destine calling the shots now.
She glanced back at Mrs. Fisher and Sebastian.
Mrs. Fisher nodded.
“Go,” said Sebastian. “Just promise to come back.”
Maria turned and took a deep breath. She brought one foot inside the hole and then pulled her other foot through.
Once Maria was inside the wall, Madame Destine grabbed her stepdaughter’s hand. “You did good, Maria. I knew you were smart. Just like me.”
Cautiously, Maria stepped into the dark. The musty scent of all things old filled her nose. She was overwhelmed with both dread and excitement.
Never had she dreamed she would get the chance to find a real hidden treasure. But part of her was also sad because she didn’t want to find it this way. She wanted Mrs. Fisher to have it.
Maria wondered how long Madame Destine would hold her hand. Already her palm was beginning to sweat in her stepmother’s callous grip.
But whether or not she was Maria’s mother, Madame Destine had taken care of her since she was a baby.
Whatever the reason, it was clear that Madame Destine was not a good person.
One minute Madame Destine was tying up the people Maria loved, the next she was singing Maria’s praises, depending on the circumstances.
Maria decided that whatever they found, Madame Destine could have it, but she would not be joining her in the getaway van. She loosened her grip and slowed her pace so that it was a strain to hold her stepmother’s hand.
Maria let her fingers slip away from her stepmother’s grip one finger at a time.
27
Buried with Treasure
Madame Destine stopped by a door at the end of the hallway and brushed away the cobwebs from the knob. She turned the handle, and the entrance creaked open.
Maria took in the strange scent. It smelled like old paper.
Madame Destine rubbed her hand against the wall inside until she found a switch.
The lights flickered on to reveal a wooden stairwell.
“Go first!” whispered Madame Destine. “We’ll let your father protect you!”
Maria squeezed past Madame Destine and descended the crooked wooden steps. The lights only reached the first three stairs.
Then there was darkness.
One by one, Maria descended the stairs. Each step moaned as she made her way down. “Edward?” Maria whispered. “Are you here?” This must have been the secret room where people drank alcohol and hid from the law! It must be the same room used to hide the treasure.
She wished she had a candle or a flashlight. No wonder her stepmother wanted her to go first.
Maria wondered, if something happened to her, would Madame Destine leave her there? She held on to the wall for balance while she descended, until her foot reached the tile of the floor.
Maria’s eyes adjusted to the darkness. The distant lights above gave only hints to the contours of objects within the room.
There were large rectangular slabs set in circular rows that resembled the pictures of Stonehenge she’d seen in books. Maybe this was an ancient place of worship, Maria thought.
She felt Edward’s presence against the back of her neck. “Edward?” she called. “What is this place?” But she knew he wouldn’t answer back.
Maria swung her hands around until she felt a string hanging. She gave it a hard yank.
The lights buzzed momentarily before they lit across the room.
Maria smiled.
The monoliths were not pillars of stone. They were shelves. Row after row of shelves, holding hundreds of books.
Madame Destine’s footsteps crashed down the steps behind her. Once her stepmother had a chance to glance about the room, she grew impatient. “This is the treasure?” she cried. “Books?” Where’s the gold?”
“GOLD! GOLD!” echoed Houdini, perched on Destine’s shoulder.
So, the treasure is a library, Maria thought. She took in the room. Strange abstract paintings hung along the walls next to boxes of what appeared to be more books. Maria tilted her head to read the titles on the spines. A lot of them seemed to be the same volume.
She picked one up. It was just a book of poems. On every other page were prints and small works of art.
Madame Destine swung her arms, knocking books from the shelves. “I don’t believe it!” She spun around and called, “John! John!” Then she stomped up the stairs, leaving Maria alone to explore.
The room was wonderful!
The paintings were dabs of thick paint applied in abstract fields of color on the canvases—like the ones she’d seen at the Museum of Modern Art. And the books! She strummed her fingers against the volumes lining the shelves.
Then Maria saw something—a book pressed farther off the shelf than the others. She dashed across the tiles and stopped in front of it. She reached out
and pulled it from the row. It was thin, with a dusty green cover. The front read “Ghosts and Other Poems by Edward De la Cruz.” Eddy De la Cruz was her father. Could this be his book?
Maria felt her throat close up. She fell to her knees, opened the cover, and buried her nose in the pages. They were poems—much like the ones he had written her all these years. Yes—it was her father’s book! A sealed envelope fell out from the pages. Maria wiped her eyes.
The stairs grumbled as Madame Destine led Mrs. Fisher, Sebastian, and Mr. Fox down into the library.
“I’m allergic to dust mites,” Sebastian protested between sneezes.
“Shut your trap!” snapped Mr. Fox. He pushed Sebastian forward so he bumped into Mrs. Fisher and Mrs. Fisher bumped into Madame Destine. The two hopped down the steps until they reached the floor.
Then Mrs. Fisher bubbled with delight. “The treasure is books! Oh, Robert!” She waddled up to the shelves, pressing her face to the spines. “These are my husband’s books, the ones he published!” Mrs. Fisher chuckled, then looked around her. “And the paintings!” she added. “Robert told me he sold them! I guess he couldn’t bring himself to do it!”
So this is what it’s all about, Maria thought. Edward had wanted to connect them to Mr. Fisher’s books.
But something didn’t add up.
“Why did Mr. Fisher want you to find this library now?” Maria asked Mrs. Fisher.
The wrinkles in Mrs. Fisher’s forehead lifted. “These writers were my friends! Robert published them up until he quit, a year before his death!” A smile stretched across Mrs. Fisher’s face. “I’m surrounded by the spirits of everyone I loved!”
It suddenly occurred to Maria that some of these were the missing works the librarian from the Berg Collection had hinted at—the Beat poets. But how much could they be worth?
“Maria,” began Sebastian, “it’s the—”
Maria gave Sebastian a quick nod and motioned with her finger to zip his lips.