by R. L. Stine
“Now, just a minute, young lady,” said her father. “I did not say any such thing! I only meant—”
Deena didn’t wait for him to finish. She pushed herself away from the table, ran upstairs to her room, and threw herself on the bed, sobbing. A few moments later her mother tapped on the door. “May I come in?” she asked.
“Help yourself,” Deena mumbled.
Her mother sat on the edge of the bed and began to rub her back. “You mustn’t be angry with your father,” she said. “Don’t you know how hard this is on him? After all, Chuck is his only son.”
“I’m sorry, Mom. I just don’t want to talk about it. I’m tired, and I just want to be left alone.”
Her mother patted her and stood up with a worried look. “All right, honey,” she said. “If you want to talk later, I’ll be downstairs.”
After a while Deena stopped crying and splashed water on her face. Then she sat down and tried to work on her trig homework, but she couldn’t concentrate.
It was no use. No matter what she tried to think about, her thoughts kept coming back to one thing: She had to go to Fear Street.
The phone rang, and she jumped, her heart suddenly beating fast. What if it was him?
But it was Jade.
“How was Chuck?” she asked right away.
“Angry and bitter,” said Deena. “But who can blame him? He said to tell you hi.”
“How did he look?”
“Like a prisoner,” said Deena irritably. “What do you expect?”
“You don’t need to bite my head off,” said Jade.
“Sorry,” said Deena. “I guess all this is getting to me.”
“Me, too,” said Jade. “What are we going to do next?”
“I guess we’re going to have to pay a return visit to Fear Street,” Deena said.
Jade didn’t say a word in reply.
Deena was so tired she managed to sleep well that night. And she woke up feeling refreshed and energetic—until she remembered what day it was and what she and Jade were going to do that night.
But maybe it wouldn’t be so bad, she told herself. For one thing, Farberson would probably be working. They’d have all the time they needed to find something linking him to the murder.
At lunch Jade was actually cheery. “Ready for another adventure?” she said, setting down her tray.
It was hard to think of it as an adventure. But Jade’s good mood relaxed Deena, and she felt even more cheerful when Rob Morell waved at her from across the cafeteria, then gave her a wink.
By the end of the day she felt nervous but confident. The only thing bothering her, in fact, was that it was beginning to cloud up outside. But what was a little rain?
By the time Deena got home from school it was pouring. The house was as dark as night; Deena’s mother worked late on Fridays, and her father wasn’t home yet.
Deena put down her books and was heating up some soup in the kitchen when the phone rang.
“Hello, Deena?” It was her father.
“Hi, Daddy,” she said, trying to sound cheerful.
“Some weather, eh?” he said. “Listen, we’ve had some trouble down here at the phone company. Lightning struck a transformer, and the phones are out on the south side of town. Everyone’s staying late till we get it straightened out. Tell your mother not to wait up for me.”
“Okay, Daddy,” she said. “Try to stay dry.”
She quickly ate a bowl of soup, then changed into sweatpants, a warm jacket, and her rain poncho. Just before leaving she wrote her mother a note saying that she had gone over to Jade’s house to study, then she walked down to the Division Street Mall, where she and Jade had arranged to meet. What a night to be without wheels, she thought.
By the time she got there she was drenched. Jade was waiting in front of the pizza restaurant wearing a bright yellow raincoat and somehow managing to look fashionable and dry at the same time.
“I feel like a drowned duck,” Deena complained.
“You look like one, too,” Jade agreed. “Ready?”
“I guess so,” said Deena. “But let’s call first and make sure Farberson’s not home.”
Jade dropped a coin into a pay phone, then hung up, a frown on her face. “That’s funny,” she said. “I didn’t get anything—not a ring, not a busy signal, just dead air.”
“I forgot,” Deena told her. “My dad called—the phones are out on the south side of town.”
“Oh, no!” said Jade. “What’ll we do?”
“We’ll just have to go on over there,” said Deena. “What choice do we have? If we see a light on, we’ll think of another plan.”
Jade nodded. “I’m sure he’ll be at the restaurant,” she said. “He wouldn’t want to do anything unusual—not the night before he’s leaving. Right?”
“Right,” said Deena, hoping it was true.
The girls left the mall, then caught the Waynesbridge bus, which crossed Division Street, then went south on the Mill Road. The bus was warm and comfortable, and Deena tried not to think of where it was taking them.
Too soon, Jade nudged her. “It’s the next stop,” she said.
Reluctantly, Deena pulled the stop signal, and the bus pulled into a small roadside clearing. It looked deserted there, with thickly overgrown bushes and trees growing right up to the edge of the road. Water dripped everywhere, and though it was still early, the storm clouds were so thick it was as dark as midnight. Overhead the sky flashed with lightning, and the booming sound of thunder shook the ground. A stream splashed angrily along a ditch beside the Mill Road.
“Nice neighborhood,” Jade cracked.
“Very funny,” said Deena. She squinted through the gloom, then saw a street sign a few feet down the road. “This way,” she said, and the girls slogged along the muddy shoulder to the crossroad.
One arm of the sign said, in rustic letters, “The Mill Road.” At an angle, the other arm read: “Fear Street.”
The girls exchanged looks. Deena hoped she didn’t look as scared as Jade did.
“Hey, it’s just a street, right?” said Jade, trying to smile.
“Right,” said Deena.
chapter
20
Feeling wet and miserable, the girls began to trudge east on Fear Street toward the Farberson house. As she walked Deena tried to pretend she was on any other street in town. In all the rain, however, she had to admit Fear Street didn’t look gloomier than any other street.
After they’d walked a little more than a block the rain intensified, and with it the howling wind. Overhead, lightning continued to flash.
“What was that?” Jade suddenly shrieked, grabbing Deena’s arm.
Deena turned and saw something—something dark and sleek—disappear into a yard across the street. “Probably just a dog,” she said. “Anyway, it’s gone.”
They continued walking, their feet squishing in the mud and water that cascaded along the broken pavement. “Shouldn’t we be there by now?” Jade asked.
“There’s the house,” Deena said, pointing.
The Farberson house was completely dark. The two girls made their way up to the porch and looked into the living-room window. Too dark to see anything.
“He must be at the restaurant,” Jade said. “Thank goodness.”
Deena went to the front door. There was bright yellow tape across the door that said CRIME SCENE. She tried the handle, but the door was locked.
“We’ll have to break the window and go in,” Jade said.
“No. Not in front. Someone might see us. Come on. Let’s go around to the back.”
They hurried around to the back, slipping on the wet mud at the side of the house. The rain had slowed a little, but lightning continued to flare as they stepped up to the back door.
The glass in the kitchen door had not been replaced; the empty pane had been covered with a piece of cardboard, so soggy it nearly disintegrated when Deena pulled it off.
She put her ear to the empty
pane.
There was no sound inside.
“Hello!” she called, ready to run if there was an answer.
The only reply was the whistling wind and the tapping of dripping water.
Carefully she reached her arm through the space and found the doorknob, then flipped off the lock.
“Okay,” she said, slowing pushing the door in. “Let’s go.”
The girls exchanged frightened looks, then stepped into the dark and empty house.
The first thing Deena noticed was that Mr. Farberson hadn’t bothered to clean up since the last Saturday night. The kitchen table was standing right side up, but the counter and floor were still covered with spilled spices and flour. Her flashlight beam showed mouse tracks in the powdery debris.
“Yuck!” she said. “This is disgusting!”
“If you think the kitchen’s disgusting, you ought to see the living room,” called Jade. Deena followed her friend’s voice to the scene of the Saturday night horrors. Dark stains still showed on the carpet, and a bright yellow chalk line, left by the police, showed where Mrs. Farberson’s body had lain. The floor was still littered with broken lamps and ashtrays, and Mr. Farberson hadn’t even bothered to pick up the cushions scattered around the room.
“What a mess,” said Deena. “I don’t even know where to start.”
“Do you see anything that looks like a desk?” Jade asked. “Maybe we’ll find some papers—insurance, a diary—something.”
The girls swung their flashlights across the room, but there was no sign of a desk or even a writing table.
“Look at this,” said Jade, pointing with the beam of her flashlight. To one side of the couch lay a basketful of old magazines. “Hold the flashlight while I look through these,” she said.
Jade knelt and rapidly flipped through half a dozen periodicals. There were several issues of a weight-loss magazine and something called Your Modern Home, with mailing labels addressed to Mrs. Edna Farberson.
“Well, that was helpful,” Jade said, brushing dust off her hands.
Deena went to the telephone stand, which contained only the phone and phone book. She pulled on the drawer, but it was stuck. In frustration she pounded on it and pulled again with all her strength. The drawer suddenly came loose, sending the telephone clattering to the floor. Jade let out a little shriek. “Will you be careful?” she said.
“I think I’ve found something!” said Deena, suddenly excited as a small white notepad fell out of the drawer. She picked it up and examined it under the flashlight. “False alarm,” she said. “It’s completely blank.”
“Wonderful,” said Jade. “Come on, let’s try upstairs.”
As they began to walk up the old, creaking stairs Deena heard a noise that caused the chill to return to her spine. “Do you hear that?” she whispered.
Now Jade, too, stopped. “That creaking sound?”
“It sounds like someone in a rocking chair,” Deena said. “Do you suppose—”
“But who could it be?” said Jade. “Mr. Farberson’s at work, and Mrs. Farberson’s dead.”
What am I doing here? Deena thought.
“It’s probably nothing,” she said, trying to convince herself. By now they had reached the top of the stairs. “It’s coming from behind that door,” she said. Holding her breath, Deena forced herself to tiptoe toward the room.
She reached out and pushed the door open.
It was a bedroom, with a big four-poster bed and two large bureaus. Against the far wall a casement window bung open. With every gust of wind it swung back and forth, making the weird creaking noise.
“This house is too spooky,” Jade observed from the doorway.
“This is one spook I’m going to put an end to,” said Deena. She crossed to the window, nearly slipping in a puddle of rainwater that had blown into the room. “The good news is that it’s stopped raining,” she told Jade.
“What’s the bad news?” said Jade.
“I can’t get the window shut,” said Deena. “It’s stuck against a branch. There’s a huge tree right outside.”
“Let me help,” said Jade. She came over and pushed against the overgrown branch of a big maple tree while Deena pulled the window shut.
“Good work,” said Deena. “That sound was making me crazy!” She swung the flashlight around the room. “Think we’ll find anything in here?” she said.
“There’s nothing in the closet,” Jade’s muffled voice reported. “Just a bunch of women’s clothes. It all smells like mothballs.”
The next room was smaller than the first, and as soon as they opened the door Deena knew they’d hit the jackpot. “This has to be his study,” she said with growing excitement.
“Great!” Jade said, her voice beginning to show some of her old excitement. In front of the window stood an old metal desk, its top covered with papers. A two-drawer file cabinet was set in the corner, its drawers standing open and empty, while across from the desk was a day bed, also heaped high with papers. Several boxes and green plastic trash bags sat in disarray, stuffed with papers and files.
“Looks as if Mr. Farberson’s clearing out his files,” said Jade, sounding satisfied.
“But it could take weeks to go through this stuff,” said Deena, “and we don’t even know what we’re looking for.”
“We probably don’t have to go through it all,” said Jade. “Just skim through the things on top. That’s probably the stuff that he’s been looking at most recently. You take the couch, and I’ll look at the things on the desk.”
Deena sat on the couch and began to look through the stacks of files piled there. She flipped through several file folders, most containing receipts for household bills, old income tax forms, and check stubs. She was about to move on when her eye fell on a piece of paper folded and unfolded so many times it was fragile enough to fall apart at a touch. “I think I’ve found something,” she told Jade.
“That makes one of us,” said Jade. “What is it?”
“A letter,” said Deena. “From Mrs. Farberson to Mr. Farberson. Listen to this!
“ ‘Dear Stan,’ ” Deena read. “ ‘There’s no use arguing anymore. I have made up my mind to leave you, and nothing will change that. I know you can’t make a go of the restaurant. When I gave you the money to buy it I believed that finally you would be successful at something. But once again you are failing.
“ ‘I refuse to give you any more money. In the last five years you have gone through almost all of my inheritance. I have to save something for myself.
“ ‘I’ll be by Saturday night to pick up my things. Good-bye, Edna.’ ”
“That’s it!” said Jade. “That’s why he killed her. She had money, and she was leaving him.”
“It’s sort of sad, though,” said Deena. “It sounds as if she once really cared about him.”
“Which was obviously a big mistake,” said Jade. “Anyway, we’ve got what we came for. Let’s get out of here.”
“Okay,” said Deena. “Just give me a minute. I want to check the closet.”
“What for? We have enough evidence to go to the police—”
“I want to try to find the mask,” Deena said.
“Okay,” said Jade. “But hurry.”
Deena opened the closet and shone the flashlight in. “There’s a suitcase here,” she said.
“Forget it,” said Jade urgently. “I hear a car coming.”
“Probably just someone driving by,” said Deena. She opened the suitcase to find piles of shirts, socks, and trousers. Slipping her hand down beneath the clothes, she felt around, but there was nothing else. Disappointed, she snapped the suitcase shut and began to inspect the contents of the shelves.
“The car sounds close,” said Jade, sounding nervous. “Come on—forget the mask.”
“All right,” said Deena. She backed out of the closet and slipped the letter from Mrs. Farberson into the waistband of her sweats.
And froze.
Now she coul
d hear the car, too.
Hear it slow down, then turn into the Farbersons’ driveway.
“It can’t be him!” Deena whispered. “It’s too early!”
The car door opened and slammed shut.
Heavy footsteps began to walk toward the house.
Then there was the sound of a key turning in a lock, and the front door began to creak open.
chapter
21
Both girls stood very still, scarcely breathing. They could hear someone walking around and then saw a sudden glow from a light that had been switched on downstairs.
“We’ve got to do something,” Jade whispered at last.
“Like what?” said Deena. “All we can do is wait. Maybe he just came home to pick something up.” She nervously fingered the letter in her waistband.
It was the proof they needed—the proof that would save Chuck. Somehow they had to get it to the police.
But would they be able to leave?
From downstairs they could now hear Mr. Farberson walking toward the kitchen.
“What if he’s home for good?” said Jade, echoing Deena’s own fears. “Maybe the restaurant closed early. Or maybe he got sick.”
“Then we’ll just have to wait till he’s asleep,” Deena said. “There’s no reason for him to know we’re here. Let’s put our rain gear back on, in case we have to hide.”
As quietly as possible, Jade tiptoed to the desk and took her raincoat and Deena’s poncho from the back of the desk chair where they’d left them. On the way back her foot creaked on a loose board, and both girls held their breath for a moment, but there was no response from downstairs.
“My mom’s going to kill me,” whispered Jade, struggling into her yellow slicker. “I told her I’d be home by ten.”
“Jade, your mom isn’t our major problem right now,” Deena whispered.
The girls carefully sat down on the edge of the daybed and waited. And waited. Each minute seemed to take an hour. The poncho was hot, and even though the room was chilly, Deena felt a drop of perspiration roll down her back. If only there was some other way to get out of the house!