“Wow,” said Judy. “Sounds like Mr. Grimes’s grandfather put on a pretty twisted show.”
“Mr. Grimes’s grandfather?” said Mrs. McKenna.
“Professor Nicodemus was his stage name.”
“Wait a minute,” said Mrs. McKenna. “I heard Grimes was an orphan.”
“Really?”
“I asked about his crippled arm and the company manager told me Grimes injured it in an accident at an orphanage when he was very young.”
“Okay,” said Judy, sitting back from the table. “Guess you guys will have plenty to talk about at that party tonight.”
80
Meghan and Zack, with Zipper on his leash, bounded down the steps of the Hanging Hill’s front porch just as their mothers walked up the winding footpath from the street.
“Hey, Mom!” said Zack and Meghan at the same time.
The two mothers laughed.
“Where are you guys headed?” asked Judy.
“Taking Zipper for a walk,” said Zack.
“Good idea. I have to head back inside for more rehearsal.”
“I don’t!” said Meghan.
“Lucky you,” said Judy.
“Meghan?” Mrs. McKenna said.
“Yes, Mom?”
“Don’t forget—we still have schoolwork to do.”
“I know.”
“And you have to dress for the party.”
“Really?”
“He’s your director, sweetie. I think a nice pair of pants and a clean shirt would be appropriate. Be back by two, okay?”
“Okay!”
Zack glanced at his watch. They had about an hour to figure out why the Pandemonium Players were called that and why ghosts were telling him to beware of pandemonium.
Zipper led the way as they strolled along the sidewalk and headed for the library.
“Your mom’s pretty cool,” said Zack.
“Yours, too,” said Meghan.
“Yeah. I guess I got lucky the second time around.”
“What do you mean?”
Zack figured he might as well go ahead and tell Meghan the truth. “My real mom never liked me.”
“How come?”
Zack shrugged. “I dunno. She said I ruined her life.”
“Really?”
“Yeah.”
“Well, Judy’s a great stepmom!”
“Yeah,” said Zack, feeling weirdly guilty the instant he said it.
“They close at one?” said Meghan, sounding surprised as she read a sign in front of the Chatham Public Library.
“August hours,” said a lady wearing red reading glasses and standing on the stoop outside the library’s front doors. “No air-conditioning.”
“We just want to look up one word,” said Zack.
The lady, who was probably the librarian, started hyperventilating. “You’re Meghan McKenna!”
“Yes, ma’am. I’m—”
“In town doing that new musical.”
“Yes. It’s called Curiosity—”
“Cat! I can’t believe you’re really you!”
Meghan shrugged. “I’m me, all right.”
“Meghan McKenna!”
“Yep.”
“I’m Doris Ann Norris. Town librarian. Is that your dog?”
“Well, actually …”
“Oh, where are my manners? Won’t you children please come in?”
“I thought you were closed,” said Zack.
“Not when a movie star needs a book!”
Meghan scooped up Zipper. “Is it okay if …?”
“Of course. Come in! Come in!”
Zack followed Meghan and Zipper into the building.
The librarian peered at him over the tops of her half-moon spectacles. “Are you somebody, too?”
“No. Not really.”
“He’s Zack Jennings,” said Meghan. “His stepmom is Judy Magruder Jennings.”
The librarian gasped. “She was just here! Just a few minutes ago! Oh, my! Famous authors! Movie stars! What an exciting day this has turned out to be!”
And the librarian hadn’t even been chased by a crazy lady swinging a bloody hatchet.
“Does the word ‘pandemonium’ mean anything besides, you know, the usual stuff?” Zack asked once Meghan had signed a few autographs for various members of the librarian’s family.
“Oh, yes.” She led them to a short bookcase filled with encyclopedias and pulled out the volume marked “M.”
Zack had always thought it was spelled with a P.
“Here we go,” said the librarian. “Are you familiar with John Milton?”
“Not really,” said Zack.
“Milton was an English poet in the 1600s most famous for his epic Paradise Lost. In it, he called the capital city of Hell ‘Pandemonium.’ It’s Greek for ‘all demons.’ In Book IV, all hell breaks loose—literally. The demons scatter across the earth, creating chaos. The city’s name, therefore, has become synonymous with disorder.”
“Beware Pandemonium,” Zack mumbled.
“Indeed. If such a city truly existed, I certainly wouldn’t want to live there or visit it!”
“Can I ask another question? Why is the resident acting company at the Hanging Hill Playhouse called the Pandemonium Players?”
81
The librarian escorted Meghan and Zack into the rare books room, where their mothers had just been.
“These are the playbills from every show presented at the Hanging Hill Playhouse over the past forty years. Maybe in one, we’ll find a producer’s note explaining the acting company’s name choice.” She gave Meghan the 1970s and Zack the 1980s. “I’ll tackle the sixties myself. You two would find the hairstyles far too amusing.”
For half an hour, Zipper snoozed under the table while the three of them flipped through magazine pages.
Zack worked through the shows done between 1980 and 1985. Put On Your Shoes. County Fair! My Man Stan. Still nothing about why they were called the Pandemonium Players.
He opened the program for a musical called Flipperty Gibbet. He scanned the title page and the cast list, then moved on to the cast biographies—short paragraphs of theatrical credits, tucked around yearbook-sized photographs of the actors in the show.
One of the photographs made Zack freeze.
An actress named Susan Potter.
“Here we go,” chirped the librarian. “Found it. Nine teen sixty-nine. The world premiere of a rock opera called Chaos City. ‘We’ve chosen to call ourselves the Pandemonium Players to celebrate the inspired chaos that guides all theatrical journeys.’”
She was beaming.
Meghan was smiling, glad they’d finally found Zack’s answer.
Zack didn’t say a word.
He just kept staring at the photograph of the actress named Susan Potter in a playbill from the summer of 1985.
“It’s my mother,” he said softly.
“Judy?” asked Meghan.
“No. My real mother.”
82
Zack borrowed Meghan’s cell phone so he could talk with his father.
“That’s right,” his dad said. “Before we met, your mother was an actress.”
Zack, Zipper, and Meghan were sitting on a park bench in the small town square in front of the library.
“Did you know that she used to do shows at the Hanging Hill Playhouse?”
“No. She never talked about her acting career. Your mother’s parents thought acting was a waste of her time and her expensive college education. They encouraged her to give it up, which she did, long before I met her.”
“Well, she did like half a dozen shows with the Pandemonium Players. I’m surprised she never talked to you about it.”
“Yeah,” said his dad, sounding sad. “Me too.”
Neither Zack nor his father said anything.
“Guess I’d better go,” mumbled Meghan. “Schoolwork.”
“Dad, I gotta run.”
“Yeah,” said his father. “So,
hey, how are you and Judy making out over there?”
“Okay,” said Zack.
“The plumbers came today. Put in new toilets at the house.”
“I’ll tell Judy.”
“Is she there with you?”
“No. She’s still in rehearsal.”
“Tell her to call me before she goes to bed tonight, okay?”
“Sure.”
“Hey, Zack?”
“Yeah?”
“I love you.”
“I love you, too, Dad.” He closed up the cell phone, handed it back to Meghan.
“Are you going to be okay?” she asked.
“Yeah.”
“Kind of freaky, hunh? Finding out your mother had this whole secret life nobody knew about.”
“Yeah. But you know what’s even freakier?”
“What?”
“In that photograph, she was actually smiling.”
“What’s so freaky about that?”
Zack turned to face Meghan and raised his right hand to let her know that what he was about to tell her was the absolute truth: “I have never, ever seen my real mother smile in a photograph.”
“Okay. But have you ever seen any pictures of your mom from before you were born?”
“Yeah. Just now.”
“I mean besides the one in the program. Just her and your dad, maybe, before you came along?”
“Sure. Their wedding pictures. A couple snapshots in the photo album. Vacations and stuff.”
“Was she smiling in those?”
Zack thought about it.
“No.” Even in her wedding pictures, his real mom looked super-serious. “That’s why it took me a while to recognize her in the playbill.”
“See?” said Meghan.
“See what?”
“You didn’t make her stop smiling, Zack. That was something she’d decided to do long before you came along. If your real mom wasn’t happy, I don’t think it was your fault.”
Zack smiled. “Thanks, Meghan.”
“I gotta go. Catch you later!”
Meghan took off running, headed for the theater.
A theater where Zack’s real mother had once performed.
Zack’s heart started pounding harder.
That meant she could come back!
“Anyone who ever traipsed across the boards or worked here behind the scenes” was welcome to return, according to Justus Willowmeier III.
Anyone.
Including Susan Potter.
83
During a short rehearsal break, Reginald Grimes huddled in a corner of the room with Hakeem.
They spoke in hushed, tense whispers.
“I’ve been thinking about tonight. What do we do about the mothers?”
“I have an idea,” said Hakeem. “The stage will be empty tonight, yes?”
“Yes. It’s Monday. We’re dark. No performances at all.”
“Good. We can hold them there.”
“Where?”
“Do not worry,” said Hakeem. “Jamal and Badir will handle it. But tell me: Who else is residing in the bedrooms upstairs besides the Stone and McKenna families?”
“The playwright and her son. The boy with the glasses.”
Hakeem nodded thoughtfully. “Invite them to your party.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes. The playwright must be detained with the other women.”
“And the boy?”
“He will be dealt with.”
84
Zack and Zipper lay on top of his bed on the fifth floor.
Earlier Zack had gone by the rehearsal room and heard a man screaming, “Five, six, seven, eight,” which was followed by a stampede of feet and pounding piano music. He didn’t really understand why Judy, the playwright, had to attend a dance rehearsal. Maybe in case they decided to change the words from “Five, six, seven, eight” to “One, two, three, four.”
Since Judy had been busy, Zack came upstairs and thought about eating.
He wasn’t really hungry, so he’d thought about watching TV.
Then he thought about reading.
He’d thought about a lot of stuff and opted for lying on top of his bedspread with his good buddy Zipper for about four hours.
He had heard birds chirp, Zipper snore, and ancient beams creak as the sun heated and clouds cooled the building.
Zack had spent the final fifteen minutes of his four-hour funk rubbing Zipper’s ears while staring across the room at the glassless frame holding the family portrait on top of his small dresser.
Zack, his dad, Zipper, and Judy.
His new mom.
Maybe that was why he was spending the whole afternoon hiding in his room: It was what he used to do a lot when his real mom was alive.
She’d scream and yell, tell him how he ruined her life, how he spoiled everything, how he was worthless, an embarrassment, and a total mistake. Zack would retreat to his bedroom, lock the door, and play with his G.I. Joes and action figures. He’d make up imaginary friends, create his own world. His pretend family could sometimes make up for his real one.
Now he was afraid his real mother could find him again.
Yes, she was dead. He knew that. He’d been at her funeral.
But…
Susan Potter could come back to the Hanging Hill Playhouse just like Bartholomew Buckingham and all the others. In fact, she could be here right now, hiding in the shadows, waiting to pounce. Maybe she’d toss him off to Lilly Pruett or give the old hag a hand with the hatchet. The ghost of Susan Potter would do whatever she could to make Zack pay for being a horrid little ingrate who loved his pretty new stepmother better than his angry old dead mother!
Zipper yawned, stretched into a stand, and marched up the bed to give Zack a sloppy smooch.
“What?”
Zipper smiled at him. Wagged his tail.
“What?”
Zipper jumped off the bed, found his grungy sponge ball.
“Oh. I see. You think I’ve spent enough time up here feeling sorry for myself? You’d rather go outside and play?”
Zipper’s tail wagged faster.
“You’re probably right. Besides, even if she is here, my mother can’t hurt me anymore.” He said it loudly enough for any invisible visitors to hear him without having to strain. “None of the ghosts can.” He climbed off the bed. “They’re ghosts. They can’t do diddly except make spooky noises, rattle the furniture, and scare me into hurting myself!”
Zipper brought Zack the ball. Dropped it at his feet.
Zack figured he’d play with Zipper downstairs on the lawn for a little while and then meet Judy when the rehearsal broke up. He grabbed a bottle of water off the bedside table in case he or Zipper got thirsty, then picked up the squishy ball.
“What ho, Zipperus!” Zack said, putting on his best Mount Olympus voice. “Lo! See how the mighty demon slayer tears the sun from the sky and flings it at the moon!”
He tossed the sponge ball out the door. Zipper chased it. Zack figured they could play fetch all the way down the hall and into the elevator. He stepped into the corridor. Zipper brought the ball back. Zack threw it down the hall. Zipper chased it.
“Bring me back the golden orb from Apollo’s chariot, boy!”
“My brother,” whispered someone behind Zack.
He whipped around.
Juggler Girl had materialized under the Exit sign at the far end of the hall.
Zipper saw Juggler Girl, too!
He dropped his saliva-soaked sponge ball on the carpet and stared hungrily at the shiny circus balls swirling above the little girl’s head.
“Help Wilbur!” Juggler Girl said, and dropped her arms to her sides.
Five balls fell to the floor and bounced down the stairwell.
Zipper took off after them.
85
Early that evening, Doris Ann Norris was at home sitting in her comfiest chair, sipping ice-cold lemonade.
Her weary feet were up o
n an ottoman; her contented cat was snoozing in her lap.
It had been some day at the library! First the world-famous author Judy Magruder Jennings had dropped by. Then the movie star Meghan McKenna! And the boy with the adorable dog!
Quite a day. She’d been so busy, she still hadn’t gotten around to reading the morning newspaper.
Putting aside her glass, she picked up the paper and flipped through the pages.
Nothing too interesting. Same old, same old. Even the funnies seemed dull.
Then again, she had been brushing elbows with celebrities all day. There wasn’t much in this newspaper or any other that could wow her today.
Eventually, when she reached the pages near the back—the broadsheets cluttered with used car and muffler repair advertisements—she did stumble upon one story that caught her eye:
Magician Nicodemus
Suffers Heart Attack
After Slaying Visitor
Nicodemus. That was the name of the magician Mrs. Jennings and Mrs. McKenna had been researching!
Doris Ann Norris quickly scanned the accompanying block of copy. Apparently, the vaudevillian Artemus Grimes, whose stage name was “Professor Nicholas Nicodemus,” was one hundred and five years old and had been a resident of a mental institution called the Riverstream Hospital for the Criminally Insane ever since he killed a six-year-old magician’s assistant at the Hanging Hill Playhouse back in the 1930s. Before collapsing in his wheelchair from a fatal heart attack, the ancient magician had killed a young man named Habib Mzali, a visitor from Tunisia. The police had not recovered the murder weapon, apparently a knife.
Oh, my. She knew Mrs. Jennings and Mrs. McKenna would want to know about this so she found her sewing scissors and clipped the article out of the paper. She would take it to the theater. First thing tomorrow.
86
Derek Stone was starting to panic.
He was having trouble breathing and it had nothing to do with dust, dogs, dandelions, or dander.
He was stumbling around the piles of junk in the basement, trying to remember where he had hidden his secret script. They were supposed to meet outside the basement door for the party with the director in less than forty-five minutes.
The Hanging Hill Page 14