Under Copp's Hill

by Katherine Ayres

  “Where did you find the mug, Innie?” Miss Brown began.

  “In the basement. Under the stairs.”

  Carmela sniffed and scowled even more ferociously.

  “And what were you doing under the basement stairs?” Miss Guerrier asked.

  Innie looked down at her hands. They were smudged and dirty. She twisted her fingers together. “Snooping.”

  “I beg your pardon?” Innie wasn’t sure which lady had said that.

  “I was snooping,” she repeated in a small voice. She hesitated—she didn’t want to get Teresa and Matela in trouble too. “It was all my idea. I was trying to find the thief. Or at least a clue.”

  “Did you find anything besides the mug?” Miss Brown continued.

  “A little,” Innie said. “Teresa was sweeping by the kiln. She found walnut shells and cookie crumbs.”

  “Where else did you … er … snoop?” Miss Brown asked.

  “All around the basement.” Sweat began to gather along her sides. “We also … Well, we cleaned the shop really well.”

  “Meaning you searched it?” Miss Brown’s eyes hadn’t warmed up.

  “Yes. We … we looked at every pot and in all the crates. We were just trying to help …”

  “I see.” Miss Brown stopped talking and nodded to Miss Guerrier. “You didn’t break anything today and forget to tell us, did you?”

  “No, Miss.” Innie didn’t dare look at Carmela.

  “Innie,” Miss Guerrier said. “What you’re telling us could be true.”

  At that, Innie took a deep breath. Maybe she wasn’t in trouble after all. Maybe they just wanted to know what she’d found out. She wished she had more to tell.

  “But I have my doubts,” Miss Guerrier added. “I seem to remember catching you on the stairs the day we were moving in.”

  “The day the silver teapot disappeared from our upstairs apartment,” Miss Brown added. “I also thought I saw someone poking about in the kitchen that afternoon. Was it you?”

  Innie nodded. Her cheeks burned and she tried to take a breath.

  “I’ve had a disturbing report about you as well,” Miss Guerrier said. “From one of the other Wednesday afternoon girls.”

  The breath that Innie had taken went cold in her chest. Maria and Stella. They’d snitched. But what had they seen?

  Miss Guerrier’s face looked as stiff and starched as her collar. “One of the girls saw you hide a book in the hallway last week. That’s very disturbing. The books are for everyone. If a girl steals them, we won’t have enough to go around.”

  Last week, last week … Innie tried to guess what those tattletales might have seen. “I—I didn’t steal. I borrowed. I signed out my book, just like the other girls. I wrote my name on a card and gave it to the older girl who was collecting them. You can check the cards.”

  Innie folded her hands under the table, hoping Miss Guerrier couldn’t read her mind, hoping Maria and Stella hadn’t seen her with two books, but with only one. Holy Mother, please help me. I won’t do that anymore, I promise. I won’t take out a book without signing the card. Only please, don’t let them blame me for all this trouble, she prayed.

  Miss Guerrier frowned, but it wasn’t so much an angry frown as a confused one. “I will check the cards. But, Innie, if you weren’t stealing, why did you hide the book?”

  This might work. Innie looked to the end of the table. She hoped she wouldn’t get Carmela in trouble, but she had to try to explain. She had no other choice. “Carmela, she told Teresa and me to hide our library books. Zio Giovanni, he thinks we come here to learn sewing. If he finds out about the library books, he won’t let us come.”

  Miss Guerrier stared at Innie for a minute, then turned to Carmela. “Is this true? You told her to hide her books?”

  “Yes.” Carmela’s voice sounded scratchy. “Papà’s old-fashioned. Girls shouldn’t waste time reading books, he says. It keeps us from doing what really matters, which is helping Mama and Nonna take care of our family.”

  “I see. That casts a new light on this matter, then. Thank you, Carmela.”

  Both ladies stood and stepped out of the room. Through the kitchen door, Innie could hear them whispering together. She kept her eyes on the table, so she wouldn’t have to look at Carmela.

  When the ladies returned, Miss Guerrier spoke in a serious voice. “If we have accused you unfairly, Innie, we’re sorry. But we will be keeping a watch on you. You, your cousin Teresa, and the Rosen girl are all new to the library club. And we had no trouble until you three joined us. You, in particular, have misbehaved. You broke a valuable vase and tried to hide the evidence. You have been seen in places where you should not have been. Today, a missing mug shows up in your hands. So it’s only natural for us to be suspicious.”

  Innie chewed on her bottom lip and tried to keep from crying.

  Miss Guerrier kept talking. “You’ll want to behave quite properly from now on. You won’t want to do anything that places you under suspicion. Do you understand? We’re giving you a warning. If one more thing goes wrong, or if we find you in questionable circumstances again, you won’t be allowed to attend the library club. Have I made myself clear?”

  Innie thought back over the two club meetings—the books, the singing, the folk dancing. And that garden on the roof—she had to belong to this club so she could watch those sweet peas start to climb their strings. She nodded to Miss Guerrier. “Yes, ma’am. I’ll be good. I promise.”

  The two ladies left, closing the kitchen door behind them. Carmela stood and walked to Innie’s end of the table. “How could you, Innie? You’ve shamed me. Shamed the whole family.”

  “I didn’t steal, Carmela. I’m innocent.”

  “Ha! The only thing innocent about you is your name. Innocenza—what a joke!” Carmela scowled. “Look, you, Teresa told me you’ve been sneaking extra books. That’s dumb. If you finish your book before the week’s over, all you have to do is bring it back and sign out a new one. You’re just lucky they didn’t catch that.”

  “But, Carmela …”

  “Hush. Listen to me. One more mistake and you’re kicked out. I could lose my job. With no job, the judge, he might not want me for a citizen.” Carmela poked her sharp fingernail into Innie’s shoulder, and fire flashed in her dark eyes. “So you, Innocenza Maria Moretti, be good. I know, you don’t have much practice with good, but you’re smart. You learn it, or else.”

  “What? What did they say? What happened?” Matela and Teresa had been waiting on the front steps, and they peppered Innie with questions as she rushed outside.

  For once the cold air felt good; the dampness took away some of the fire in Innie’s cheeks. “They think I’m the thief—they blamed me.” Her voice wavered, and she swallowed back tears.

  “That’s not fair,” Teresa said. “Come, let’s go walk by the water and you can tell us everything.”

  “Everything,” Matela agreed.

  They turned toward the harbor. As Innie spilled out her story, she felt arms come around her from both sides.

  “Even Carmela yelled at you,” Teresa grumbled. “I’m not speaking to her for a week.”

  “You told Carmela about the extra book, Teresa.”

  “Innie, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to. I won’t tell her anything now. I’m not speaking to her.”

  “Those ladies are not fair,” Matela said loudly. “Innie, you don’t take anything. You borrow an extra book, yes, but for the rest, you are trying to help. Why don’t those Yankee ladies understand?” She hugged Innie tighter. “I think it’s a mazik making trouble.”

  “Matela’s right,” Teresa said. “It could be a ghost or a mazik.”

  It felt good to have Teresa and Matela on her side. But Innie shook her head. What they said didn’t quite make sense. “Do ghosts get hungry? Do maziks leave crumbs and walnut shells? No. It has to be a real person.”

  “What do you know of maziks?” Matela demanded. She stood and pointed at a small boat
in the harbor. “Maziks, they can sit anywhere. In a tree, on a chimney, right there in that boat. And they slip in and out of doors, even with locks on. They like to play tricks. They might make crumbs just for mischief—who can say?”

  “Come on,” Innie said. “Maziks aren’t real.” But still, the damp air made her shiver.

  “I know,” Matela said. “We’ll prove Innie doesn’t make the trouble. We’ll prove it’s a mazik.”

  “How could we do that?” Innie demanded.

  Nobody spoke for a minute. Matela chewed on her bottom lip. “I don’t know yet. But I will think of something. Tonight, when it gets dark …” She paused and looked out over the water, as if the answer might be hiding under its choppy surface.

  “What, Matela?” Teresa asked. “What about tonight?”

  “We sneak out to the burying ground. From there we watch the house.”

  “I thought you said we couldn’t see a mazik,” Innie grumbled. “So why watch?”

  “The mazik, you can’t see. But what he does, you might see that. If we watch the house after all the club girls leave, we might see the mischief.”

  “Sneaking out at night? Oh, Matela. We can’t even think such a thing,” Teresa said. “Mama and Papà don’t let Carmela out alone at night, and she’s grown. One of my brothers always walks with her. We can’t come out at night. We’d get in terrible trouble.”

  “Innie is already in terrible trouble. We must help her,” Matela said.

  Innie swallowed hard. Come to the burying ground in the dark? Even she wasn’t sure she could do it. But if Matela was a good enough friend to think up such an idea, she’d find the courage somewhere. Besides, Innie thought, there was just the tiniest chance that Matela’s plan might really help them discover the culprit.

  Innie took a deep breath. “All right. We’ll do it,” she said. “But I won’t be looking for maziks or ghosts. I’ll be watching for a human troublemaker. I want to catch that thief so he doesn’t keep getting me in trouble.”

  CHAPTER 8

  NIGHT WATCH

  “Hurry, Teresa,” Innie whispered. “Matela’s waiting for us by now. We can’t leave her in the burying ground all by herself at night …”

  She tugged her cousin’s hand, pulling her from shadow to shadow along the dark alleyway. A few men and older boys were still out on Salem Street, so Innie and Teresa had to creep up the hill through the narrow alleys, away from the gaslights.

  “Oh, Innie. We’re being so wicked. If Mama and Papà find out …”

  “Everybody’s asleep. Besides, if they find out, you just say I made you come. They’ll blame me, not you.”

  As they passed the back door of a bakery, they heard a skittering sound nearby. Innie walked faster, trying not to imagine the hungry rat who’d made the noise. At last they reached Hull Street and the Old North Church. Up here, away from the shops and cafés, the street stood empty and silent. The burying ground was only a few steps beyond. The iron gates hung open, casting huge shadows on the street.

  As the girls approached, a moaning sound drifted out from behind the gates. Teresa grabbed Innie’s hand. Innie held on hard, and her heart thumped fast. The moaning came again, nearer. Hoooo. Hoooooo.

  “We can’t go in there,” Teresa began.

  “Ha! Just me!” Matela jumped from behind the gates, waving her arms.

  Innie’s breath came out in a whoosh. She tried to laugh, but it sounded squeaky. Her heartbeat wouldn’t settle down. “Have you been waiting long?”

  “Not very. But I’m glad you’re here. The Thursday night girls, they come out soon, I think.”

  “At nine o’clock,” Teresa answered with a tremble in her voice. “How could you wait here alone, Matela? We should have planned to meet at the church.”

  “Me? A church? I cannot stand by a church.”

  “Why not?” Innie asked. She’d feel a lot safer standing on the steps of Old North than at the gates of the burying ground just now.

  “On every church I see a cross. I am more safe with the dead people.”

  A shiver crawled up and down Innie’s back.

  “What’s wrong with crosses?” Teresa whispered. “I don’t understand.”

  “Back in Russia, the soldiers ride into our villages on big black horses. In one hand, they carry a sword. Around their neck, they wear a cross.” Matela scratched at one of the stones in the wall, then went on. “And every time the soldiers come, it is bad for us. After, someone is always crying.”

  Those soldiers … Innie didn’t want to think about such a thing.

  “Come, let’s hide quick. Those Thursday girls come out soon.” Matela hurried them inside the iron gates and led them along a row of crooked gravestones. Innie tried to walk between the graves, not on top of any old bones.

  She sank to the damp ground behind a large gravestone and peered at the settlement house. Lights shone from some of its windows, but still the house looked darker and taller at night, and the bricks appeared black instead of red. Innie rubbed her arms as a cool breeze came up off the water and rattled the tree branches. At her side, she felt Teresa tremble. Nobody said a word.

  After a few minutes, the door to the settlement house opened, spreading a pool of warm light on the sidewalk. Innie watched a stream of older girls pour out, humming tunes. But within five minutes or so, the last stragglers had gone, leaving the sidewalks more deserted and silent than before.

  The door opened again. A woman’s head poked out briefly, then the door slammed shut. “One of the ladies locking up for the night?” Innie whispered. It was too dark to tell which one.

  “Probably,” Matela answered softly. “Now we watch for something interesting.”

  “Something scary, you mean,” Teresa muttered. She shivered again.

  “Look,” Matela said.

  The lights on the first floor had gone out. As Innie watched from the damp burying ground, the second floor went dark, then the third. At the same time, lights on the top floor came on, and shadows moved behind the curtains.

  “Do you think whoever comes will wait for the ladies to go to sleep?” Innie whispered.

  “Watch and see.” Matela’s words made Innie’s breath catch in her throat. Who or what could it be?

  Innie stared at the house. Her hands were cold, and she curled them into fists until her fingernails cut into her palms. Shadows flitted behind the top-floor curtains again, and then the lights at the front windows went out. Only a dim light still showed, perhaps from the bedrooms at the back of the flat, Innie thought.

  A few minutes later, even the dim light had disappeared. Innie sat up straighter. The house had gone completely dark. The only light on the street came from distant apartment windows and gaslights half a block away.

  Innie started to stand up.

  Matela pulled on her arm. “Not yet. Wait. Five minutes. Then we go check all the doors and windows. In front, and back in the alley. If a door or window is unlocked, then maybe the trouble is from a person. But if everything is locked tight, and still something happens, it must be a mazik who comes.”

  Innie didn’t know which would be worse. What would they do if they really saw a ghost or a spirit? Or a thief?

  With such thoughts rumbling through her mind, Innie couldn’t sit another minute. If they didn’t go snoop right away, she’d surely run home. She stood, shook the stiffness from her legs, and pointed across the street. “Now, please?”

  “Now,” Matela agreed.

  Tiptoeing single file across the damp grass, they made their way out through the burying-ground gates. On the sidewalk, Innie took one of Teresa’s icy hands, and Matela took the other.

  “Shh,” Matela said. “Careful now.”

  They crossed the street and climbed the front steps of the settlement house. The door stood in shadows. Innie tried the knob, but it wouldn’t turn. “Locked. Let’s try the windows,” she whispered.

  Innie knelt on the sidewalk and checked one of the basement windows, and Teresa
checked the other. Both were locked. The first-floor windows—the ones for the shop—were harder to check. They were so high up that Innie could barely touch the bottom of the windowsills.

  “I don’t weigh so much, Innie,” Matela suggested softly. “Let me climb on your shoulders.”

  Innie knelt to let Matela climb on, then stood, wobbling until she found her balance. She stepped close to one window and felt pressure as Matela tried to force it open.

  “Locked. Try the next,” came the hoarse whisper.

  Innie sidestepped until Matela could reach the second window. Again the pressure, and again nothing happened. “Let me down. They’re both shut tight.”

  “Now what?” Teresa asked.

  “We check the back. Through the alley.” Matela stepped away from the settlement house, but Teresa shook her head.

  “Do we have to? It’s so dark back there.”

  Innie took hold of Teresa’s hand. “We’ve come this far. Please, Teresa. Just a few more minutes.”

  They crept silently down the block to the alleyway that led to the backyards. Underfoot the cobblestones felt bumpy, and here no gaslights shone. As her eyes grew accustomed to the deeper darkness, Innie made out the shape of the settlement house. She crossed the yard to the back entrance with the other girls right behind her. She tried the door. It would lead to the pottery painting room, but it was locked like the front. Matela climbed to Innie’s shoulders and again found the first-floor windows locked tight. There were no basement windows in the back.

  “Can we leave now, please?” Teresa tugged hard at Innie’s hand.

  “Sure. But first let’s go back to the front. There’s one more thing I need to check,” Innie whispered.

  When they reached the front of the house again, she stopped and thought. She was sure the kiln room was right under the shop. She closed her eyes to remember on which side of the kiln room she’d seen that strange old door. The right side—she was sure of it—for the windows were on the left. But there was no sign of it from the outside. So that old door stood underground, she realized, right beneath the main front door.