Christmas Chiller

by Ann M. Martin

  “Oh, Hannie,” said Dawn impulsively. She bent down and scooped Hannie up, toys and all. Hannie’s lower lip trembled and she buried her face in Dawn’s silky blonde hair.

  “Mary Anne is helping Linny clean up his room and we came to help you clean up yours,” said Jessi. She’d already gone into action, gathering up the sheets and blankets that had been torn from the bed.

  Mal said, “We’ll find fresh sheets and fix up your bed, and then you can sit on it and tell us what to do.”

  “I can?” asked Hannie, lifting her face from Dawn’s shoulder. “I can boss you around?”

  It was amazing how quickly this idea helped distract her.

  “Just for tonight,” Jessi said. “Until your room is straightened up.”

  “Okay,” said Hannie. Then she looked at Dawn and realized for the first time who was holding her. “Dawn!” she said. “You’re not in California!”

  “No, I’m here for Christmas,” Dawn replied. “And it’s lucky I am, isn’t it? So I could be here to help.”

  Downstairs, Kristy and Abby gingerly made their way through the mess. The house looked as if it had been rocked by an earthquake. Pictures were askew or off the wall, plants had been overturned, bookshelves and chairs were upended, and cushions and books were everywhere. The Christmas tree had lost a number of ornaments and a quick peek into the study revealed a paper blizzard. Every file drawer had been yanked open and emptied.

  Kristy and Abby couldn’t miss the giant word that had been scrawled in red spray paint on the wall of the living room: NAUGHTY.

  “Same m.o.,” murmured Abby. M.o. stands for modus operandi. It means method of operation, and it was true that the thieves had used the same method of operation to trash the Papadakises’ as they had the Hsus’. They’d even left the same word on the wall.

  Kristy and Abby returned with Sari, who looked around her room wide-eyed but silent. Then she slipped her thumb into her mouth, a sure sign she was unhappy.

  “It’s a mess, isn’t it, Sari?” said Kristy in a cheerful voice. “So we’re going to make it an unmess.”

  Kristy and Abby took turns rocking Sari, singing silly songs to her, and cleaning up her room. At last it was back in some kind of order, and they put Sari down to sleep. She never said a word. She just sucked her thumb.

  But after Kristy had pulled the covers over her and Abby flicked off the light, Sari said, “NO!”

  Abby turned the light back on. “What is it, Sari?”

  Sari put her thumb back into her mouth and looked mournfully at Kristy and Abby.

  Then Abby realized what the problem was. “You want me to leave the light on?”

  Sari nodded.

  “I’ll tell you what,” said Kristy. “We’ll leave the light on and we’ll sing to you until you go to sleep, okay?”

  Sari nodded slightly.

  So that’s what Kristy and Abby did. When Sari’s eyes finally closed, Kristy reached down and patted her lightly. “Poor Sari. She knows something is wrong. I’d like to get my hands on whoever did this. It’s awful.”

  “I know,” said Abby.

  By the time Hannie and Linny had been convinced that it was late enough to go to sleep, or at least to climb into bed and try, the Papadakises had managed to do a fair amount of damage control downstairs.

  I stopped in the hallway and stared at a smudge along the carpet next to the wall. “Look,” I said to Abby.

  “What is it?”

  “Footprints!”

  We all gathered around and Mal said, “Good eye, Mary Anne. They’re definitely footprints.”

  “Did that dirt come from an overturned houseplant?” suggested Jessi.

  “No. At least, there aren’t any plants nearby. If it was from a plant, there should be other footprints nearer to the place where the plants by the living room window were dumped,” said Kristy.

  We searched, but we found no more footprints.

  We went into the kitchen to find Mr. and Mrs. Papadakis sitting at the kitchen table with Sergeant Johnson.

  “Well, their rooms are cleaner and Sari is asleep,” Kristy announced.

  Mrs. Papadakis gave us a grateful look. “Would you like anything? The kitchen was a mess, but we still have coffee and tea and soda.”

  “No, thanks,” said Abby. “We still have some jelly doughnuts that are calling our names.”

  I looked at Sergeant Johnson, who was studying his notebook intently. “But we found footprints,” I said.

  He jumped up. “Where?”

  We showed Sergeant Johnson and the Papadakises the footprints. Sergeant Johnson bent forward to study them as we explained how we had figured out that the dirt hadn’t come from the plants that had been overturned. “We’ll have the crime scene unit check this out,” he said. “We’ll have to rule out the possibility that a family member left this. If we do, it’ll make a good piece of evidence. This soil doesn’t look like the usual soil composition for this area. It’s redder, has a higher clay content, see?”

  I felt rather pleased and proud, especially when Sergeant Johnson said, “Good work.”

  Sergeant Johnson came along as the Papadakises walked us to the door. “The burglars were in a rush,” he said. “Only surface valuables are missing, despite the mess. But I suggest everyone act with extreme caution. We’ll be going door to door to warn the neighbors in the immediate vicinity, and we’re going to post more patrol cars. But we’re not really sure who we’re looking for or what they’re up to. For the amount of damage they do, they are remarkably inefficient thieves.”

  I could tell Sergeant Johnson was baffled by this Stoneybrook crime wave.

  And he wasn’t the only one. We talked about it for the rest of the evening. But even aided by jelly doughnuts, we came up with no new clues, and no possible solutions.

  But I knew one thing: This was turning into a haunted holiday. And we were all more scared than we would allow ourselves to admit.

  After all, who knew when the burglars would strike again? Or where?

  I just hoped no one would be home alone if it happened.

  “Who goes there?” demanded Linny from the other side of the Papadakises’ front door. It was Saturday afternoon and I was going to baby-sit for Linny, Hannie, and Sari while Mr. and Mrs. Papadakis repainted the living room.

  “It’s me, Linny,” I said.

  “Me who?”

  “Dawn.”

  “How do I know it’s you?” he demanded. I heard Hannie say, “Be careful! It could be a burglar trick.”

  “Linny,” I said, “I’m going to step back. Look through the living room window and you can see me, okay?”

  A moment later the curtain flicked aside and Linny looked out. He stared at me solemnly. I waved and smiled.

  The curtain fell back into place. The door opened, and Linny stepped aside to allow me to come into the house. “We have to be careful,” he said.

  “I understand,” I replied.

  I followed Linny and Hannie into the living room.

  NAUGHTY. There it was, still on the living room wall in big red letters. Someone had tried to scrub it off, but it was clear that a paint job was necessary.

  Mr. and Mrs. Papadakis were pushing furniture to the center of the room and covering it with old sheets and painters’ drop cloths. Sari was running around the room, obviously enjoying the new territory she was being allowed to cover.

  “Thank you for coming to help on such short notice, Dawn,” Mrs. Papadakis said. She smiled. “I’d planned on having the house repainted this spring. I guess getting an early start isn’t so bad.”

  “We’re having a cleaning service come in to help us later today,” added Mr. Papadakis. “But this was something we wanted to do right away.” He smiled at me, too.

  I smiled back. I admired how calmly Mr. and Mrs. Papadakis were taking things.

  Linny said, “If you painted the living room red, you’d only have to use one coat of paint.”

  Mr. Papadakis said, �
�Red is not quite the color we had in mind for the living room, Linny.”

  “I know.” Linny grinned.

  I helped the Papadakises finish covering the furniture, then I scooped up Sari and led Linny and Hannie back to the den, out of the way of buckets of paint and other temptations.

  The house was still a mess, but not nearly as big a mess as it had been the night before. The Papadakises must have been working nonstop, I thought. Even the Christmas tree was redecorated with new ornaments.

  I stopped in the doorway. “You’ve done a lot of work since last night,” I said. “It looks good.”

  “They took the VCR,” said Hannie. Her lower lip quivered. “It had my favorite tape in it — Harriet the Spy.”

  “You still have the book, don’t you?” I asked.

  Hannie nodded.

  “Well, the book is even better,” I said. “Why don’t we find it and we can read from it, if you’d like.”

  Linny said loudly, “I think we should nail the windows shut. And put more locks on the doors. And get a big, mean dog.”

  Sari cooed, “Doggie!” and I bounced her gently on my hip.

  “Well, I don’t think we can do that,” I said, “but we could clean up some more.”

  “Let’s make sure everything is locked first,” said Linny.

  Hannie nodded. “So the thieves can’t come in again.”

  I agreed (though I was certain their parents had locked up the house), and we went around to every room and made sure that all the windows were locked. Then we checked the doors. I discovered a gleaming new lock on the back door.

  “The locksmith came this morning. She said that this lock is better than our old one,” Hannie added. She paused and said, “I hope it is.”

  It didn’t take a rocket scientist to tell me that the Papadakis kids were very upset by the break-in. Who wouldn’t be? It freaked me out, and I didn’t even live in Stoneybrook anymore. Of course, I couldn’t help thinking how I would feel if this had happened to Mom and Mary Anne and Richard, or to Dad and Carol and Jeff and me, or to any of my friends.

  And the Papadakises were my friends.

  Just then the doorbell rang. “Dawn, could you see who that is?” Mrs. Papadakis called. “We’re sort of painted in in here.”

  “Sure,” I called back. To Hannie and Linny I said, “Let’s go.”

  At the door, I asked, “Who is it?”

  “It’s me, Kristy.”

  “Be careful,” Hannie said.

  “Kristy,” I said. “Step back so Linny can see you through the living room window.”

  “What?”

  “I’ll explain in a minute.”

  “Okay.”

  A moment later Linny said, “It’s okay,” and I opened the door to let Kristy in. Timmy and Scott Hsu were with her. As they came in, Timmy wrinkled up his nose. “Your house smells like paint.”

  “That’s because it is being painted,” Hannie said. “Someone broke in and wrote on the wall.”

  Scott nodded. “Someone broke into our house and wrote on our wall, too.”

  “Did you get a new lock?” asked Hannie.

  “Yes,” Scott answered. “And we might get a burglar alarm system, too. If anybody tries to break in, it makes lots of noise and the police come right away.”

  “I want to get a big, mean dog,” Linny said. “One that will bite burglars.”

  “That’s a good idea, too,” said Timmy.

  “Did you lock all your doors and windows before you left?” Hannie asked.

  A worried look crossed Timmy’s face. “I think so,” he said. He looked anxiously at Kristy. “Maybe we should go home and check.”

  “Your parents are home,” said Kristy. “I’m sure your house is fine.”

  “But what if the burglars break in anyway?” asked Timmy.

  “They won’t if they know someone is home,” Kristy explained. “They don’t want to get caught.”

  “We can’t stay home all the time,” Linny said. “We should set up traps. And we should put up hidden cameras to watch for burglars and take their pictures.”

  “Those are all good ideas,” Kristy said. “If you …” Her voice trailed off and a funny expression came over her face. A funny, familiar expression.

  “Kristy? What is it?”

  Kristy looked at me. Then she said, “I have a Great Idea.”

  From Kristy, an announcement like this is normal. So I merely said, “Okay. What is it?”

  “We could set up a neighborhood watch,” she said. “It would make people who have been robbed feel better, and it might be useful in preventing future burglaries or finding clues.”

  I knew who she was referring to when she said “people who have been robbed.” She meant the kids. The Papadakises and the Hsus were obviously very unnerved by the robberies, and I knew from some things Kristy had said that her own younger brothers and sisters were also both fascinated and frightened.

  “That is a Great Idea, Kristy,” I said.

  She smiled modestly. “I know.”

  “What’s a neighborhood watch?” Timmy asked.

  “It’s when you join other people in your neighborhood to keep an eye on each other’s houses,” Kristy explained. “And if you see anything suspicious, you call the police.”

  “The police? Good,” said Linny. “Let’s start watching right now.”

  “Not so fast,” said Kristy. “We’ll need a schedule. But we’ll have it organized in no time at all, you’ll see.”

  “We can watch each other’s houses,” said Hannie to Timmy and Scott. “You watch ours and we’ll watch yours.”

  “Good idea,” I said.

  For the rest of the afternoon, we worked on Kristy’s idea while we helped the kids clean. When we told the Papadakises about the neighborhood watch, they were instantly enthusiastic.

  “What a wonderful idea,” Mrs. Papadakis said. “It’s just what we need.”

  “We’re going to make some plans,” Kristy said in her most businesslike manner. “We’ll be in touch.”

  “Great,” said Mr. Papadakis.

  We dropped the Hsus off at their house and headed back toward Kristy’s, stopping to tell Mr. Korman, who was standing in his yard with a rake, about the idea.

  “Great,” he said. “By the way, did you or anyone in your family leave this here?”

  “No,” said Kristy. She laughed. “Even Watson and Nannie don’t rake anything at this time of year. They are such tool fanatics — everything is all polished and hung up in its place in the garage.”

  “Guess I have a new rake, then,” said Mr. Korman. “Keep me posted on the neighborhood watch.”

  “We will,” Kristy promised.

  We walked on to her house. Kristy reached automatically into her mailbox. She pulled out a folded sheet of paper.

  “What’s this? No envelope?” she said, unfolding it.

  Cutout letters from a magazine glued to a piece of paper spelled the word NICE.

  “This,” Kristy announced, “is weird.”

  “Maybe you have a secret admirer,” I said.

  “It’s not addressed to me.” Suddenly she grinned. “Or maybe it’s not so weird. Maybe it’s for Sam or Charlie. You think some poor girl has a crush on one of them?”

  “If they do,” I said, “I don’t think this note is going to cut it.”

  “You’re right,” said Kristy. She folded the note and slipped it into her pocket. “Too bad we didn’t have the neighborhood watch up and running. Someone might have noticed our mysterious mailperson.”

  We walked into the house, talking about the neighborhood watch, and forgot about the note.

  Okay, so Ethan wasn’t the evil, friend-stealing boyfriend I’d thought he might be. In fact, I was really starting to like him, in a friend kind of way, of course. I thought Stacey had made an excellent choice. After all, he knew about art, and he was very cool-looking and very easygoing.

  Well, he was very easygoing except for a few litt
le odd things. He seemed to go through fits of nervousness. I’d catch him looking around as if he expected (or feared) seeing someone he knew. And he had staring spells, sort of like the ones Mary Anne’s kitten, Tigger, gets: Stacey would be examining a sculpture or inspecting an outfit in a store window and Ethan would focus on her in this intense, truly strange way, as if he were trying to memorize her features.

  Okay, maybe he was in love. But if he was, I was going to have to give him a hint about showing it too much. I knew that Stacey had noticed the staring thing, too, and had decided to ignore it. But I also could tell it made her uncomfortable.

  Then I decided that maybe it wasn’t just Ethan. Maybe it was something else, something spookier.

  Stacey and I had gone to drink coffee and watch people at the local coffee bar one afternoon. (Whenever we went out we had to phone Stacey’s father and tell him where we were going and what we were doing. He had given her his cell phone in case of an emergency.) We read some cool European fashion and art magazines that were lying around the coffee bar, and we watched people, some of whom looked as if they could have come right out of the pages of the magazines.

  And then Stacey looked up and said, “Claud?” in a low, funny voice.

  I had been flipping through the pictures and trying to ignore a strange back-of-the-neck feeling. What I mean is, the back of my neck was prickly. I had actually reached up to touch it, to see if my hair (which I had pulled back into a single braid) had caught on my chair or something. But that wasn’t it.

  “What?” I said. I rubbed my neck. The feeling lessened. Slightly.

  “I have this funny feeling that someone is watching us,” said Stacey.

  I knew instantly that my strange feeling was for the exact same reason. I could feel someone’s gaze on me. And on Stacey.

  “Don’t turn around,” Stacey commanded quietly, as I half twisted in my chair.

  I twisted back, trying to seem casual. “Do you see anybody staring at us?” I asked.

  Stacey shook her head. “I think we should go home,” she said.

  I jumped to my feet. As I did, I noticed the mirror at the back of the room. I scanned the room by staring in the mirror, but I didn’t see anyone who looked suspicious. Every other patron of the coffee bar seemed to be minding her or his own business.