The Secret of Skull Island

by Zack Norris

  For Dashiell and Philip

  STERLING CHILDREN’S BOOKS and the distinctive Sterling Children’s

  Books logo are trademarks of Sterling Publishing Co., Inc.

  © 2011 by Dona Smith

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced,

  stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means,

  electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise,

  without prior written permission from the publisher.

  ISBN 978-1-4027-7912-1

  Sterling ebook ISBN: 978-1-4027-9804-7

  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

  Norris, Zack.

  The secret of Skull Island / by Zack Norris.

  p. cm. — (Double Detectives; #1)

  Summary: Twins Otis and Cody Carson, their father Hayden, cousin

  Rae Lee, and family friend Maxim, go to a Caribbean island where Aunt

  Edith’s dream of running an inn is being hampered by ghostly activities and

  deceitful guests.

  ISBN 978-1-4027-7912-1

  [1. Swindlers and swindling—Fiction. 2. Taverns (Inns)—Fiction.

  3. Islands—Fiction. 4. Brothers—Fiction. 5. Twins—Fiction.

  6. Caribbean Area—Fiction. 7. Mystery and detective stories.] I. Title.

  PZ7.N7995Sec 2011

  [Fic]—dc22

  2010046090

  For information about custom editions, special sales, and premium

  and corporate purchases, please contact Sterling Special Sales

  Department at 800-805-5489 or specialsales@sterlingpublishing.com.

  Designed by Susan Gerber

  Lot #:

  2 4 6 8 10 9 7 5 3 1

  07/11

  www.sterlingpublishing.com/kids

  Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  [Chapter One]

  The Boss wasn’t happy, and when the Boss wasn’t happy, no one in his gang was happy. He was getting angry, too. The gang knew that that was a dangerous thing—for all of them. He could take his anger out on anyone.

  The gang’s head man stood in the shadows, his cell phone pressed tightly to his ear, his guts in a twist. As he listened, his expression went from tense and frightened to angry and resentful. The Boss was chewing him out … again.

  “I put you in charge of this operation and now I have a mess, Bobo,” the Boss snarled. “It’s going to mess up our sweet deal. It’s going to mess up my money.” Bobo heard him exhale through his teeth. “I’m not pleased. What I want is to be pleased.”

  “Look, Boss, this all happened so fast. How could I have known? It wasn’t my fault …” the head man protested.

  “Stop whining about how it wasn’t your fault, Bobo!” the Boss snapped. “You’re always supposed to know what’s going on.”

  The Boss breathed into the phone heavily. Bobo could almost see the sneer on the man’s face and smell the stink of smoke from his cigar. He hated the way the Boss talked to him and treated him—and the way they all had to call him “Boss.”

  I’m smarter than any of the other guys in this gang, Bobo thought. I’m probably smarter than the Boss, too.

  “Bobo, I want you to make this problem go away. I want it fixed, and I want it done quietly. Nobody suspects who you are. Nobody knows what’s going on. Nobody starts nosing around for pirate treasure.” He snickered nastily. “And I don’t want the law on my back.”

  “I’m already taking care of it, Boss,” blurted Bobo. “I’ve got the whole plan made up …”

  “Shut up!” snapped the Boss. “I don’t want to hear about your smart ideas, you nitwit. Just do what I told you. And make sure there’s no problem with the big job, either.”

  Bobo heard a click as the Boss ended the conversation without even saying good-bye. He clenched his fists at his sides. He was sick of being ordered around and called names.

  “I hate working for this guy,” he muttered under his breath. “I ought to have my own outfit. I’d love to give him the double cross.”

  [Chapter Two]

  “The legend says that Calavera Island is haunted by the ghost of a pirate who used the place as his hideout,” said twelve-year-old Cody Carson, his brown eyes wide. He turned away from his laptop and glanced at his twin brother, Otis, who looked just like him.

  Without looking up from his book, How to Spot a Liar Every Time, Otis pushed a lock of brown hair off his forehead, wrinkled his freckled nose, and shrugged. “I don’t believe in ghosts,” he said. “It’s not like it’s the first time you’ve talked—and talked and talked and talked—about that ghost.”

  Otis reached out and scratched the ears of their golden Labrador named Dude. The dog slapped his tail back and forth in appreciation. The sight caused the parrot, Pauly, to screech in protest. “Pet me! Pet me!” he shrieked.

  “Oh, hush, bird,” said Rae Lee, the twins’ favorite cousin and the coolest girl they knew. Rae was sprawled on the floor next to the boys, a page from the newspaper spread in front of her. Rae’s house was nearby, on Cold Stream Lane, and she spent lots of time at her uncle’s place.

  Deerville, where they all lived, was a small, artsy little town in upstate New York. The twins’ father, Hayden Carson, was one of many painters there, and one of the best known. He still lived in the same small farmhouse he’d bought before he was famous, when the twins’ mother was still alive. She had died in a car accident when the boys were very young.

  “Y’know,” Rae said, shaking her short black hair and frowning, “I wouldn’t be so sure there aren’t any ghosts. There are lots of legends about haunted places. I haven’t made up my mind whether they exist or not.”

  Mr. Carson looked up from his sketchbook. “Well, maybe the pirate’s ghost is what has been giving your aunt Edith so much trouble,” he said with a chuckle. “I guess we’ll find out for ourselves when we get to the island tomorrow.”

  Aunt Edith was really the boys’ great-aunt, their grandmother’s sister, but everybody just called her Aunt Edith. She had recently opened an inn on the Caribbean island of Calavera, and there had been trouble from the beginning.

  Nearly every day she called long distance about something that had gone wrong. “It’s like this inn is under a black cloud!” she complained.

  “What’s the latest from Aunt Edith?” Cody asked.

  “It sounds like more of the same. Things keep breaking, she runs out of hot water, that sort of thing. Do you think a pirate ghost could be blamed for that?” Mr. Carson asked.

  “Ghosts can play all kinds of tricks,” Cody said. “Maybe he wants the place to himself again.” He turned and looked at everyone solemnly. “A ghost like that could turn ugly and do something really scary.”

  Rae gave him a sidelong glance. “Too much drama, Cody.” She grinned.

  Otis groaned. “Way,” he agreed. “And way too much talking.”

  “Oh, I think Aunt Edith’s problems are just the kind of things that happen when a new place is opened,” said Mr. Carson. “Starting a new business isn’t easy.” He flipped to a new page in his sketchbook and went on drawing.

  “Calavera means ‘skull’ in Spanish, so it’s r
eally ‘Skull Island,’” Cody went on. “And that pirate I told you about? He had a skull tattooed on his chest. Pirate tattoos had special meanings, you know.”

  “You’ve told us that. Lots of times,” said Otis. “Blah, blah, blah.” He kept his eyes glued to his book.

  “Sit on a potato pan, Otis,” his brother said cheerfully. Cody loved coming up with palindromes—expressions that are spelled the same backward and forward. “Sit on a potato pan, Otis” was one of his favorites and had been used over and over again.

  “You’re still using the same old half-baked joke,” Otis replied with a pun that he’d used over and over again. Otis liked puns as much as Cody liked palindromes. And the two brothers loved to kid each other.

  “Chill,” Cody said, still grinning at his old joke. “Here’s something new,” he added hurriedly. “The rumor is that the pirate, Black Heart, hid his trea-sure somewhere on the island. But he forgot where he stashed it, so he comes back to search for it. He also has sword fights with other pirates who are looking for it, too. People swear they have seen and heard him.”

  His eyes were shining. “Isn’t that great? Maybe we’ll get to meet him while we’re on the island. Maybe he’ll lead us to the treasure.” He frowned. “But the legend says that he’ll kill anyone who takes it from him.”

  “He can’t lead you to the treasure if he can’t find it himself,” Rae pointed out.

  Otis laughed. “Yeah, that’s kind of obvious.”

  Cody knitted his brows. “Yeah, I guess you’re right.” Then his face brightened. “Maybe he’ll find it while we’re there.”

  Otis let out a long sigh. “Come on, Cody, grow up. Ghosts? Pirate treasure?”

  “You know as well as I do that pirate treasure has been found. They dug up some of Captain Kidd’s buried treasure in New York, on Gardiners Island,” Cody pointed out. “I’d never even heard of Gardiners Island before I read about Captain Kidd.”

  “Yeah, I know,” said Otis. “But do you really still believe in ghosts?”

  “Why not?” Cody snapped. “Like Rae said, there are lots of legends about haunted places. And you’ve seen some of those ghost-hunting shows on TV.”

  “Those shows are always so lame,” Otis scoffed. “Ever notice how they never really find anything? Somehow the ghost never shows up on the videotape.”

  Mr. Carson held out his sketchbook and studied his drawing. “Well, if there is a pirate ghost wandering around, you have a good chance of running into him while we’re visiting Aunt Edith,” he said. “I was waiting to tell you that your aunt’s inn is where the pirate lived years ago. And a hundred or so years before that, the house was part of a sugar plantation. It was the owner’s mansion.”

  “Awesome!” Cody breathed.

  “Well, that’s pretty interesting,” Otis said. “But I still don’t believe in ghosts.”

  From a nearby chair came the sound of a newspaper rustling. “It’s nothing but crime, crime, crime in the headlines today,” said Maxim Chatterton in a tone that dripped with disdain. He peered from behind the pages and curled his lip.

  The worldly and dignified Maxim was the family’s all-around friend and helper. He was Mr. Carson’s agent, arranging all of his shows and handling his publicity. He was also general overseer of all the household affairs.

  “Two bank robberies in downtown Manhattan,” Maxim went on, perusing the front page. He shifted his lanky frame. “And here’s a story about that Las Vegas gangster Moe Kleese. He got his picture in the paper again. It looks like he’s at a party at one of his casinos.” He tossed the paper down.

  The picture showed a short, round man with a bald head. He had his arms crossed, with one hand showing a huge pinkie ring in the shape of a horseshoe. Around his neck was a showy gold chain with a gold playing card. He was standing underneath the brightly lit sign for one of his casinos—THE LAUGHING GECKO.

  “Kleese the sleaze,” Maxim muttered, pointing to the picture. “That guy is into everything—theft, smuggling, counterfeiting, you name it. They’ve never been able to pin anything on him that stuck, though. No wonder he’s having a party.”

  Otis glanced at the paper. “Hey—that’s the guy who was on the news last night. I remember him because of the weird way he never made eye contact with the reporter. My book says people who aren’t telling the truth don’t look you in the eye. They fidget.”

  “Oh, Otis.” Rae crossed her arms. “That book is making you crazy. You’re going to start seeing liars everywhere. You get so carried away when something interests you.”

  “Do not,” Otis shot back.

  “Um, do too,” insisted Cody. “A couple of months ago you were into rocks, and that’s all you ever talked about. Before that it was insects, and you bugged everybody all the time. Now you’re going to think every time somebody scratches his nose or shakes his foot, he’s lying.”

  Otis grimaced. “The bugs were Rae’s fault. She made that remark, ‘Every bug is an insect, but every insect is not a bug,’ and I was hooked. I had to find out more. Besides, you’re pretty fixated on that ghost pirate and his treasure.”

  “I’m not as bad as you are,” Cody retorted. “With you it’s always something.”

  “Yap, yap, yap.” Otis laughed.

  “Enough, you two,” Maxim said sternly. He picked up the paper and rattled it in disgust. “Here’s more crime. That con artist is still on the loose. Hmm … it says he’s got a wife somewhere. I wonder if she’s a criminal, too. Anyway, he duped some gullible people into buying the Museum of Modern Art. Twice!”

  He scanned the article. “Now he’s going by a new name—he has about twenty aliases and he’s disguised himself as a salesman, a lawyer, a dentist … you name it, he’s done it. Oh, and listen to this: a thief stole a painting from the museum.”

  Mr. Carson, who had been sketching quietly, looked up. “It wasn’t one of mine, was it?” he asked with a laugh.

  “No, no. Van Gogh.”

  “Terrible.” Mr. Carson went back to sketching. “Imagine—Deerville is only a couple of hours from New York City, and it’s a different world.”

  Mr. Carson loved to travel and had painted scenes from Tucson to Tokyo. He was looking forward to taking his family along with him to Calavera Island. It was so small that it was not even on most maps. It was dwarfed by the larger and more developed nearby island of Tacayno.

  Just then a command screeched through the air. “Roll over!”

  Dude instantly pricked up his ears, dropped, and rolled.

  “Ha-ha,” scoffed the parrot.

  Dude snarled and lay down again, casting an angry eye at Pauly.

  Otis went back to his book. Cody went back to researching Calavera Island online, and Rae went back to her paper. Suddenly she gasped.

  “A crowd attacked Jamal Mason!” she said, her face pale. “He was making a personal appearance in Hollywood, signing autographs, when the fans got so crazy they rushed at him. Bodyguards got him into a van and drove away.”

  Fourteen-year-old Jamal Mason was a teen idol, and every kid over four years old followed his movies. He played a brilliant young detective in a series of action-adventure films. The most recent was The Curse of the Green Dragon.

  Unlike the twins, Rae wasn’t a fan of mysteries or action adventure. She preferred drama and comedy—except when it came to Jamal Mason. The twins suspected she had a crush on him, but she always denied it.

  “I’ll bet Jamal wasn’t scared,” Cody said. His attention shifted back to Calavera Island.

  Rae got to her feet. “I have to be getting home to get ready for the trip,” she said. “I’m so glad my parents are letting me come along. See you in the morning.”

  After everyone said good-bye to Rae, the boys decided to go to bed. They had to get up early for karate class, and then they were all leaving for Calavera Island.

  “Why don’t you clean up that mess on your side of the room before we go, Cody?” Otis muttered as they headed upstairs.

&
nbsp; “I will if you will,” Cody replied, giving his brother a little shove. They always argued about which one was messier. Both knew that it was all a joke, though, since they were equally sloppy.

  Later on, lying in bed on either side of their messy room, they talked about the trip. Neither one was thrilled that where they were going had no cell phone towers and no Internet access.

  “It will be cool to go swimming and explore the island, though,” said Otis. “I’m taking my skateboard, too. I’m gonna practice until I get the pop shove-it right. But …”

  Cody pushed himself up onto his elbows. “You’re going to take your skateboard? I like to skateboard, too … but we’ll be on a Caribbean island. I don’t think they’ll have a lot of places to skate.”

  “Maybe you’re right,” Otis said. Then he put a finger to his lips and whispered, “Shh.”

  Outside their door they could hear their father talking with Maxim. Both of the men were speaking in hushed voices. The boys could just make out what they were saying.

  “You know Aunt Edith isn’t the type to get scared over nothing,” Mr. Carson said.

  “I know, I know, but things happen,” Maxim replied. “Did she really sound worried?”

  “Yes. I didn’t want to say so in front of the boys, but she sounded very worried. The chandelier in the lobby fell down the other day. Nobody was hurt, but still …” Mr. Carson clicked his tongue against his teeth.

  “Well, did someone tamper with it?” Maxim asked. “Or was it an accident?”

  “She said it looked like an accident. But then somebody ruined a bunch of plants in her garden.”

  “Oh, well, that could have been an animal, right?” Maxim asked.

  “I don’t think there are any animals on the island that could do that,” Mr. Carson replied. “Mostly there are birds and frogs and iguanas and geckos. I can’t imagine one of them stampeding through a garden and ripping up plants the way she described. The garden was a wreck.”

  “But people on the island keep dogs as pets, don’t they? It could have been a dog that got loose,” Maxim pointed out.

  “Oh, you’re right. I didn’t think of that,” Mr. Carson said sheepishly.