by Dan Poblocki
“Sounds scary,” Rosie said. “I’m sorry that happened to you.”
Clea shrugged. “Let’s hope you have better luck than I did … Jessalynn.”
Mrs. Glick clapped her hands as she came down the auditorium aisle. No longer on her call, now she was all business. “Everyone ready? Let’s get back to work.”
5
EVIDENCE OF JEALOUS SPIRITS
(A ???? MYSTERY)
The group spent the rehearsal reading through the play again, only this time, Mrs. Glick began to do some preliminary “blocking,” which was, Rosie understood, the act of learning where to stand when you said your lines. Rosie took many notes on her script, marking every time Mrs. Glick asked her to move. It was difficult to concentrate, however, because whenever Rosie looked up, she noticed Clea Keene watching her. Clea always smiled in response, but having grown up with four older siblings, Rosie knew a fake smile when she saw one. This made her even more nervous than she already was. She hadn’t signed up to become someone’s enemy. So when the rehearsal was finished, Rosie approached Viola with an idea.
“Let’s solve the mystery of Clea’s ghost,” said Rosie, sitting on the sloped edge of the stage. “If there’s one thing we’ve learned so far, it’s that not every ‘haunting’ is what it seems. Let’s debunk this one so Clea won’t have a reason to be scared in here. Maybe she’ll even want to be friends.”
Viola raised an eyebrow. “If you want to try to smooth things over with her, I’ll help you, but I’m not so sure I want to be friends with Clea. I get a strange feeling from her.” She thought for a moment. “We do have to get along though….”
“And this sounds like a good mystery,” said Rosie hopefully.
Viola smiled. “Okay. I’m in.”
Rosie chuckled. “That was easy.”
After the last person left the auditorium, the girls gathered their belongings and began to explore. Only a few lights were left on near the stage, and so the space took on an eerie atmosphere. Shadows hid the far corners of the room — cloaks of perfect black. Anyone or anything might have been standing there, watching them. The girls had to force their brains to stay on task.
They wandered across the stage, listening for strange sounds that could have been mistaken for voices. Offstage, behind the proscenium, Rosie discovered a room with electrical equipment. Along one wall was a panel dotted with little glowing lights, indicating the many power switches used to control the elaborate lighting rig that hung over the stage. A stool stood next to a small table. “This is probably where the stage manager sits, calling the cues, making sure the show is running properly,” said Viola.
“Huh,” said Rosie. “If this is near where Clea said she heard a voice calling her name, someone could have been in this small room. That’s who she might have heard.”
“Clea said she looked everywhere offstage and was certain no one was around,” said Viola. “Not even the stage manager. But I have an idea that would explain how Clea could hear a voice speaking from back here without anyone being nearby.”
“Are you saying there really is a ghost in the auditorium?” said Rosie.
“Not ruling it out yet. But my idea has nothing to do with the paranormal. Can you guess what I believe Clea heard?”
“Yes!” said Rosie, peering into the electronics room. “In order for a stage manager to call the cues for the show, he or she would have to have some sort of communication device. A headset or a walkie-talkie. If the stage manager had stepped away for a moment and left the device behind, Clea could have imagined that a disembodied voice was talking to her, when in reality it was probably one of the stagehands in another part of the theater.”
“Just what I was thinking,” said Viola. “Nice work. Ghostly experience number one is solved. What’s next?”
“The dressing room,” said Rosie.
Outside the door to their left, which led to the hallway, a machine hummed. Both girls knew it was one of the custodians turning on the vacuum cleaner. They felt reassured that they were not alone.
“Are these the stairs?” Viola said, pointing at the stone steps that led down into deeper darkness.
“I think so,” said Rosie. “I really wish you’d brought your —”
“Flashlight?” Viola said, pulling open her bag and removing a small key chain light. “You know me better than that, my dear.” The white beam was barely bright enough to show the girls their own feet as they made their way down, but it was effective enough so that they could be sure of each other in the dark. They held hands as they pushed open the steel door at the bottom and found a dim hallway.
Upstairs, the vacuum cleaner droned, thumping and bumping along the wall as the custodian swept the hallway.
Thankfully, on the wall inside the door was a light switch. Viola flicked it up, and a harsh fluorescent glow blinked on. A row of five doors was lined up on the left side of the hall. Farther on, the shadows encroached on a particularly dirty and banged-up door, labeled BOILER ROOM. Viola nodded at the doors on their left. “The dressing rooms?” she asked, stepping forward. She pushed open the nearest door and discovered a small space with a mirror and table built into the wall on one side, and a clothes rack along the other. Rosie was the one to turn on the lights this time. The exposed bulbs around the mirror provided a dramatic effect. The girls stared at themselves in the glow, as if they were honest-to-goodness actors waiting for their curtain to rise.
“So this is probably where Clea was sitting when her flower vase tipped over,” said Rosie. The room was suddenly very quiet. The custodians upstairs had either finished the hallway or were taking a break. Rosie imagined the ghost of the Lady in Green appearing in the mirror before her, peering angrily out, furious that Rosie would dare imitate her grand color. Rosie jumped up, and the small chair behind her fell over.
“What’s wrong?” asked Viola. “Did you see something?”
“No,” said Rosie, picking the chair up and setting it right, “but I felt something. Something that might explain the tipping of the vase. Do you know what it was?”
Viola thought for several seconds, then snapped her fingers. “The vacuum cleaners from upstairs,” she said. The hum had started up again. The custodians were making all sorts of noise, jostling the machine against the walls. “It might have been possible that vibrations from the hallway above us made Clea’s vase tip over. With ghosts on the brain, it would be easy for her to make the leap that it was the Lady in Green’s fault.”
Rosie nodded. “Just what I was thinking too. It is super scary down here, especially when you’re by yourself, I bet.” She headed toward the doorway, almost unconsciously. “Promise me you’ll never leave me alone.”
“I promise.”
Back on the stage, Rosie said, “So it would seem we have some solutions to Clea’s ghostly tales. I want to share them with her, but I still have a couple questions.”
Viola shook her head. “About what?”
“The curse,” said Rosie. “The cast members who forget their lines. The people who’ve fallen off the stage in the middle of the show. Maybe the Lady in Green is just a story, but we can’t discount the fact that some people have had bad luck here.”
Viola smiled. “I think there’s a perfectly reasonable explanation for people to forget their lines. It’s no mystery really. In fact, it’s happened to me. And I know it’s already happened to you. Can you think of what it is?”
“Nerves?” Rosie answered.
“Yes!” said Viola. “That’s not a curse. That’s just the nature of performing in front of people.”
“But what about falling off the stage?”
“We were sitting there earlier this afternoon. Didn’t you notice anything strange?”
“A strange feeling?” Rosie said. “Not really, except for … Oh wait!”
Viola leaned forward expectantly.
“Well, the stage is sloped quite a bit,” Rosie answered. “I guess that would make it pretty easy for someone to lose h
is or her footing and topple into the orchestra pit. Gosh … how embarrassing. If that happened to me, I’d never want to show my face onstage ever again either!”
Viola laughed. “Let’s put that in our ‘blocking’ instructions.” She pulled her script from her book bag and wrote something in the margins before reading it aloud. “ ‘Avoid pitfalls.’”
“That’s what I tell myself every day,” Rosie said, flicking her hair off her shoulders with enough attitude to rival Clea Keene.
6
A VISIT TO PURGATORY
The next day, Viola, Rosie, Sylvester, and Woodrow went on a field trip up into the Moon Hollow Hills, to a glacial rock formation known as Purgatory Chasm. Eons ago, ancient ice had moved across the land, leaving behind a deep gouge in the thick rocks. Now the park’s tall, sheer cliffs and mazelike caverns were a geology teacher’s dream … or nightmare. Everyone knew how dangerous the place could be, hence its ominous name. One wrong step … and splat.
While riding the bus, the Question Marks’ classmates were unusually well-behaved, if only because they were under threat of returning to school if anyone acted up — and no one wanted to miss the creepiest field trip of the year.
Rosie and Viola sat in front of Sylvester and Woodrow. Clea Keene happened to share the seat directly across the aisle with her friend, a boy named Paul Gomez, who was also in the play. As the bus rolled out of town and into the forested hills, Rosie had an idea. She hadn’t yet gotten a chance to tell the boys about the Lady in Green mystery, and she also hadn’t revealed her discoveries to Clea. She thought it was the perfect time to share how she and Viola had spent the previous evening after rehearsal.
The boys were able to figure out Rosie’s evidence in the same way that she and Viola had done, clue by clue. But instead of thanking Rosie for dispelling the ghostly rumors, Clea turned bright red.
“I know what I saw and heard,” said Clea. “I’m not a liar. Just because you guys don’t believe me doesn’t mean it’s not true.”
Rosie was surprised. “I didn’t think you were lying,” she said. “I thought you’d feel better knowing that the theater isn’t haunted. Mysteries are everywhere if you pay attention. My friends and I look for clues and solve them together.” She gestured to her three friends, who were watching the exchange with pained curiosity. “It’s fun, especially when we discover the truth.”
“I know all about your mystery club,” said Clea, looking right at Woodrow. “I also heard about what you did: getting some poor boy in trouble by writing his name in silver ink all over the school. What kind of fun is that? It doesn’t sound like something a real detective would ever attempt.”
Now it was Woodrow’s turn to blush. “I’ve apologized to Mickey. We’re friends now … sort of.”
“Rosie and I were just trying to help you,” said Viola, bringing the subject away from Woodrow’s scandal. “We thought you’d be pleased that there’s no ghost.”
Something in Clea seemed to click. She cocked her head to the side and plastered a smile onto her face. But those icy blue eyes revealed a not-so-hidden anger. “Thanks for trying,” she said, turning her back on the Question Marks. “Maybe rehearsals won’t be so scary anymore.” Paul smirked, glancing at Rosie from over Clea’s shoulder.
Rosie flopped back down into her seat, unable to hide her own anger for the rest of the ride into the hills, except by rotating her head to watch the world pass by outside the bus’s dirt-spattered windows.
Once they had arrived at the park, the class was greeted by a ranger who led them on a tour of the chasm. The group climbed down over large boulders, following one another into the cold shadows of the forest. Dark crevasses opened in the cliffs on either side. Rosie wondered what kinds of animals might be living inside. People said coyotes and even bears lived up in these hills. Was it dangerous to be here? The school wouldn’t have allowed the students to come if there was any true threat. Or maybe that was the point of the permission slips — parents had to sign them, just in case anyone was eaten. Rosie told herself not to be silly, then slid down another rock, smudging her bottom with dust.
At the foot of the gorge, the ranger explained more about how the spectacular scene had been formed; then the class made their way up a path that wound back up the steep hillside toward their bus. By the time they made it to the chasm’s entrance, nearly everyone was out of breath. The ranger thanked them for coming and asked if anyone had any last questions. Someone in the crowd raised her hand. Rosie had to keep herself from rolling her eyes when she noticed who it belonged to. The ranger said, “Yes?”
Clea spoke up, her voice practically at a shout, so everyone could hear her. “Aren’t you going to talk at all about Tall Ted?” she asked.
The ranger’s face went slack and turned red. He glanced at the chaperones, who all shook their heads in unison. “We don’t have time for that right now,” said the ranger, gesturing to the parking lot, where the bus was waiting for them.
On the bus, everyone was curious to learn what Clea had been talking about. She looked as pleased as a peacock to have all eyes on her. “I can’t believe you guys haven’t heard the stories,” she said. “My older brother told me the legend.”
“What legend?” asked Sylvester from across the aisle.
“The legend of Tall Ted,” said Clea, smiling wide. “Tall Ted is a creature that supposedly lives in the caverns underneath Purgatory Chasm. He stands upright like a human, about six and a half feet tall, but he’s not human at all. His skin is pale from living underground. He has no hair. He walks with a limp, shuffling along, dragging one foot behind him. But people who believe they don’t have to run when they encounter Tall Ted end up sadly mistaken. Tall Ted has the ability to reach out with his long arms and snatch you up, even if you think you’re far enough away. His claws extend far, and they’re as sharp as razors.”
Rosie shivered. She didn’t believe the story. This was purely a legend, and she was a science girl after all. However, the tale got under her skin. Maybe Clea was indeed a great actress.
“Where did he come from?” Sylvester asked.
“Supposedly, Tall Ted was born up here in these hills to a human mother who was so frightened by his appearance, she abandoned him in the chasm. He learned to fend for himself and eventually grew to love the shadows and the rocks there. He’s so protective of his home that they say if you take a stone from Purgatory Chasm, Tall Ted will follow you home and take something of yours back with him … sometimes, they say, he takes the thief back instead.”
Rosie listened as almost everyone on the bus moaned. She then watched most of her friends pull small stones from their pockets. “Why didn’t you mention this before we all got on the bus?” asked Woodrow.
Clea laughed heartily. “You guys are so gullible!” she said.
“So then you just made all that up?” Viola asked.
“I didn’t make up anything,” said Clea, wiping at her nose. “My brother told me that story. But that doesn’t mean it’s true.”
7
WOODROW’S BIRTHDAY TRIP
That Saturday, the Question Marks all took the train from Moon Hollow to New York City. Woodrow had invited Viola, Sylvester, and Rosie to spend his birthday at his dad’s apartment. Once on the train, Woodrow could barely contain his excitement.
The four sat facing one another, gabbing about the rest of their week. Rosie and Viola were getting more involved in their play rehearsal, struggling to memorize their lines while trying to ignore the obnoxiousness that was Clea Keene. Sylvester had been teaching himself some new card tricks, which he shared with his friends. Woodrow had finally finished his detention. Thankfully, whenever he saw Mickey Molynew in the halls at school, the former bully ignored Woodrow, as if nothing had happened between them.
The group had also managed to dig up some more mysteries to share with one another. Now was the perfect time to tell them — cooped up on a train heading south, with at least another hour’s travel ahead of them.
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8
THE PET CEMETERY MYSTERY
(A ??? MYSTERY)
“This one comes from one of my mom’s reporters,” said Viola. “Earlier this week, in a town close to Moon Hollow called Jessup’s Creek, there was a robbery. A man wearing a black ski mask held up the jewelry store and made off with several diamond rings, emerald earrings, and a couple gold necklaces.”
“Whoa,” said Woodrow. “That kind of thing doesn’t happen too often up here.”
“It happens more than we’d think,” said Viola.
“Yeah,” Sylvester agreed. “Weird people are always passing through these towns. We see plenty of them at the diner.”
“The little old lady who runs the jewelry store called the police as soon at the thief left,” Viola continued. “The cops showed up fairly quickly. She gave them the thief’s description. He was about five foot, five inches tall and wore a green hooded sweatshirt and pale jeans. She told them what direction he’d taken off in, and they hopped back in their cars to chase him.
“Jessup’s Creek is a small town. Much smaller than Moon Hollow. There’s only one main street, and the direction the old woman pointed the cops in ended at a small overgrown plot of land within a rickety old fence: Jessup’s Creek Pet Cemetery. It dates back nearly a hundred years.”
“Oh, that sounds so sad,” said Rosie.