The Ambrose Deception

by Emily Ecton

  Wilf—Look up info about Enoch Ambrose’s pranks.

  Bondi—Double-check clue answers to make sure they’re right.

  EVERYONE—Figure out which of your clues points you forward, which one takes you back, and which one is a trick. Also, figure out what the heck that means.

  RECONVENE—Tomorrow, coffee shop, 10 A.M. (Forget school. School is out.)

  Frank, Inez, and Dimitri—Provide snacks.

  DEADLINE—3 P.M. tomorrow, nonnegotiable

  TRIBUNE TOWER

  MONDAY, 3 P.M.

  24TH FLOOR

  ATTN: Morton Middle School Office

  Melissa Burris will be out today. She’s got scholarship obligations that are confidential and secret, and she needs to focus on them so she won’t embarrass the school. You understand.

  Signed,

  Melissa’s grandmother

  To: Office Staff, Noyes Central:

  Bondi Johnson will be out today. He’s either coming down with something really contagious or he has a kale allergy. We’re keeping him under observation.

  Signed,

  Bondi’s mother

  TO WHOM IT MAY CONCERN AT SUTHERLAND ACADEMY:

  WILF WILL BE OUT TODAY. HIS GRANDMOTHER DIED. NOT THE ONE THAT DIED BEFORE, THE OTHER ONE.

  SIGNED,

  WILF’S MOTHER

  “I don’t know how convincing our excuse notes were,” Melissa said, dumping her book bag on the coffee shop chair. “We should’ve tried to make them sound more realistic.”

  Wilf shrugged. “What are they going to do? If they have a problem with it, we’ll just give them, like, ten thousand dollars, and I bet they shut up then.”

  “Sure, but first we have to win the money,” Melissa said. “Did you guys find anything cool? There is a lot of crazy stuff about the twenty-fourth floor of the Tribune Tower. Like, super weird.”

  “Weird how?” Bondi came over to the table with a muffin almost as big as his head.

  “Weird like secret-rooms-and-hidden-doors weird. That kind of weird.” Melissa eyed Bondi’s muffin.

  “Wait, hidden doors? In a corporate building? The Tribune Tower is where the newspaper offices were. Come on.” Bondi pulled his muffin a little closer. He didn’t like the way Melissa was looking at it.

  “Well, it’s true. And I have proof.” Melissa hesitated. “I’ll show you if you give me part of that muffin.”

  Bondi groaned. He should’ve known he’d never manage to keep that muffin for himself. He pushed his plate into the middle of the table.

  Melissa grinned and tore the muffin in half, daintily putting her half onto a napkin in front of her. Then she reached into her book bag and pulled out a book.

  “You are not going to believe this,” she said.

  “‘The Chicago Tribune Tower Competition’?” Wilf craned his neck to read the title. “You’re right, I don’t believe it. What does that have to do with anything? That had to be a million years ago.”

  “Because it’s got this.” Melissa opened the book and pushed it toward them, carefully avoiding the muffin plate. “See that? That’s a map, my friend. Of the twenty-fourth floor.”

  Bondi and Wilf leaned forward and inspected the floor plan. “That’s where we’re going?” Wilf said.

  “And it’s all laid out for us, just like that?” Bondi was impressed.

  Melissa nodded. “Just like that. Right there, you see Captain Patterson’s and Colonel McCormick’s offices? Well, according to this book, they’re mirror images of one another. And the walls in those offices are covered with wooden panels and have hidden closets, doorways, and even two secret stairways. There are pictures on the next page. But look here.” She pointed at the bottom of the map. “That’s where each office has a hidden staircase that goes up to the twenty-fifth floor. It’s a secret escape.”

  Bondi whistled. “Man, that’s pretty cool.”

  “And get this—apparently Colonel McCormick liked to call people into his office and push a button on his desk that would close the door behind them. Then, when they went to leave, it looked like the door had disappeared, and they couldn’t find their way out.”

  Wilf let out a sharp laugh. “Wow, what a jerk! That’s awesome!”

  Melissa grinned. “Isn’t it? No wonder we’re supposed to go to the twenty-fourth floor. It’s got to be the coolest floor in the whole building.”

  “Perfect for playing pranks,” Wilf said.

  “Right.” Bondi tapped the book. “But how does this help us with the clues?”

  Melissa’s face fell. “Well, beats me. But I figured this is all good to know, right? We can at least know what we’re getting into when we go up there.”

  “Yeah, I guess…” Bondi said doubtfully. He looked at the clock on his phone. They only had a few hours left, and it felt like there was still too much they weren’t sure about. “Well, I looked at all the clues last night, and I think they’re all right. I mean, they look right to me.”

  Melissa took a bite of muffin and nodded solemnly. “We can’t afford to mess any of those up.”

  “Nope.” Bondi pushed his piece of muffin back into the middle of the table. He’d lost his appetite. “What’d you find out about Ambrose and McCormick, Wilf? Anything helpful?”

  Wilf shook his head. “Not a ton. They didn’t like each other, that was for sure. And Ambrose pulled a couple of good ones on McCormick. Apparently, McCormick was really afraid the US was going to be invaded through Canada, and one time Ambrose made him think Canadian troops were gathering on the border. I got that much.”

  Bondi slumped back into his chair. “So not a ton.”

  “Well, no. Like I said.”

  Bondi was starting to wish he hadn’t eaten any of the muffin at all. “And this other stuff? The points you forward, takes you back stuff?” No one said anything. He sighed heavily. “I’ll admit, I had trouble there. All I could figure was that the fountain was the trick, since it fooled me. And I guess the Skydeck Ledge points you forward? Since it’s new? And that would make the Rookery the one that takes you back.”

  “Why?” Melissa pulled Bondi’s leftover muffin closer to her. He didn’t react.

  “Because it’s old? It’s lame, but it’s all I’ve got.”

  Melissa casually transferred the muffin to her napkin. “Yeah, I don’t know about these. For mine, I figure the Contribution frieze points you forward, since it’s the first of the three friezes, and then the death statue is the trick, because it totally was. And maybe the ice cream and baby chicks take you back, because they’re from 1910? And, you know…babies,” Melissa finished lamely.

  “Sure, okay, I guess,” Bondi said unhappily. It was all too much. “Is this even what we’re supposed to be doing?”

  “I don’t know.” Melissa frowned, crumbling the muffin into little bits. She stared at the mess she’d made and pushed it away. “We’re going to lose, aren’t we?” she said finally.

  “No!” Wilf said, slapping his hand down on the table. It was a bad idea, because he caught the edge of Melissa’s book and bruised his pinky finger. But he didn’t care. “We’re not going to lose! And those sound like excellent explanations.” He wasn’t sure about that baby chick one, but whatever, Melissa was smart. It was probably spot-on. “Here are mine—I think the blue cow takes you back because it makes you think of the Chicago fire, which was a long time ago. And the warriors, they’re pointing you forward? Since they’re on horses, so that’s transportation? And then the moon rock is the trick, since some people think the moon landing was a hoax. See? Am I right? We’re golden!”

  He put his hand up for a high five. “Right?” he said weakly. Finally he put his hand down. “Oh man. We’re going to get slaughtered in there.”

  To: Wilf Samson

  From: Bob Bukowski

  Subject: Sorry, also Homework

  Hey Wilf,

  Chad in the office asked me to get your homework assignments to you, so give me a call when you get home and I’ll tell
you what you need to do. I’m real sorry about your grandmother—that really stinks.

  See you later,

  Bob (from third period)

  P.S. How many grandmothers do you have, anyway?

  To: Melissa Burris

  From: Tanisha Cole

  Subject: You better HIDE

  Melissa, where are you? Mrs. Orlin is on a RAMPAGE. What the heck did you do to her? She called me into the office and grilled me for TWO CLASS PERIODS about where you were, what you’re up to, EVERYTHING. And that scholarship excuse isn’t going to fly anymore—she knows it’s a scam. Their website has been taken down and the phone’s disconnected and she is MAD AS ALL GET OUT.

  Watch yourself,

  Tanisha

  To: Bondi Johnson

  From: Jamal Jones

  Subject: RIP Kale

  Bondi, buddy, is it true you’re in the hospital because you’re allergic to kale? That’s what Mrs. Gray in the office is telling everybody, and they’re talking about making the school a kale-free zone. (Thanks for that, by the way.)

  Peace,

  Jamal

  To: Melissa Burris

  From: Judy Orlin

  Subject: Disciplinary action imminent.

  Miss Burris:

  I don’t know what kind of game you’re playing, but your little con is over. I know you rigged this whole “scholarship” in order to skip school, and don’t think I’m going to let you get away with it.

  It has become obvious to all of us in the administrative office that Morton Middle School is not equipped to deal with your behavioral issues and troubled home life and “acting out.” Therefore, when you see fit to return to school, we will immediately take steps to relocate you to a more appropriate educational facility, perhaps of the boarding or military variety.

  Best,

  Mrs. Judy Orlin

  Guidance Counselor

  “Well, here goes nothing, right?” Melissa craned her neck to look up at the Tribune Tower.

  They’d found the pieces of the Alamo, Taj Mahal, and Papal Residence embedded in the walls, and taken photos in case they needed to prove that they’d found them. Even though just being at the right location pretty much proved they’d figured it out.

  Melissa smiled as she saw the frieze called Contribution on the InterContinental Hotel building just north of the Tribune Tower. It felt like a good sign. And they definitely needed all the good signs they could get.

  “How much time do we have left?” She didn’t want to go in, but she didn’t want to just hang around outside anymore, either.

  Bondi checked his phone. “Five minutes. We should probably head up.”

  “Right. We should,” Wilf said.

  None of them moved. Bondi rolled his shoulders and tried to shake the tension out of his arms. He wasn’t used to being nervous like this.

  “Well?” Melissa turned around to where Dimitri, Frank, and Inez were standing. They had to do this. It would be the stupidest thing ever for them to figure out all the clues and then miss out on the prize because they’d taken too long getting upstairs. “So, thanks, guys. I guess we’ll let you know.”

  Inez laughed. Or coughed, Melissa wasn’t sure which. “Oh, no, you don’t. You think we’re going to miss all the fireworks?”

  Dimitri smiled. “We will escort you.”

  Melissa felt giddy laughter rising in her chest. “Really?”

  Frank nodded. “Are you kidding? We wouldn’t miss it.” He clapped Wilf on the back.

  Melissa elbowed Bondi in the ribs. “They’re coming, too.” Then she punched Wilf lightly on the shoulder. “Did you hear that, Wilf?”

  “I heard,” Wilf said, smiling.

  Bondi cracked his neck. He didn’t want to blow his cool. “Well, sure, that’s great,” he said. “But only if you want. You don’t have to.”

  Dimitri nodded. “We want.”

  “That’s cool,” Bondi said, his face breaking into a wide smile. “What are we waiting for? Let’s go.”

  Melissa grabbed Bondi and Wilf by the hands, and together all of them marched into the building.

  FROM THE DESK OF

  Mr. Linus Ambrose

  1600 N. Astor Street

  Chicago, IL

  Dear Brother,

  Please accept my apologies in advance for wiping the floor with your pathetic self. I would promise to try to go easy on you, but you’re such a complete and utter fool that we both know there’s no point.

  Enjoy your humiliation, pig.

  Ms. Sybil Ambrose-Murgeston

  1601 N. Astor Street

  Chicago, IL

  Dear Sister,

  Bravo. Your self-delusion is awe-inspiring. I will keep your entertainment value in mind after I inherit everything and KICK YOU OUT ON YOUR PITIFUL MONEY-GRUBBING REAR.

  Yours in absolutely no sense of the word,

  Butler looked up and smiled as the kids and drivers filed into the hallway. They’d taken the elevator up to the twenty-fourth floor in silence before walking down the long hallway to the waiting area outside of Colonel McCormick’s and Captain Patterson’s offices. Melissa was glad she’d printed out a copy of the map. It was a relief to feel like they knew where they were going.

  Mr. Smith and a pinch-faced woman loaded down with jewelry were standing impatiently in front of Butler, obviously put out by having to wait.

  “Hey there, Mr. Butler, Mr. Smith.” Bondi extended his hand to the woman. “Bondi Johnson, ma’am. Good to know you.”

  Her eyes narrowed, and she looked at his hand like he was offering her a used Kleenex. “Linus,” she hissed, “what is this?”

  A vein in Mr. Smith’s forehead started to pulse. “What are you children doing here? This is not part of the scholarship competition. I’m afraid you have all forfeited. Now go. Go!” He made shooing motions, but no one moved.

  Mr. Butler cleared his throat. “As executor of Mr. Ambrose’s estate, I should tell you that the children are here at my invitation. They have qualified for this final test and will be competing with you for the inheritance.”

  “What? Competing?” Mr. Smith sputtered. “That’s outrageous! They aren’t qualified to shine my shoes, let alone compete for my father’s fortune. Get rid of them. Get rid of them or you’re fired.” The vein was pulsing so hard Melissa was afraid it was going to blow.

  Butler just smiled. “I’m sorry, but no. The will clearly states that whosoever solves the clues and discerns the location of the final testing shall be eligible to inherit. By sharing your clues, you made them eligible to inherit. And, if I may remind you, your father was my employer, not you.”

  “Linus, you idiotic fool!” Sybil glared at him with eyes like lasers. “This is just like you.” She turned to Butler, her expression suddenly all sweetness and light. “Isn’t there any way to correct my brother’s error? It was just an unfortunate mistake.” She batted her eyes like a cartoon bunny.

  “No, there is not. And, interestingly enough,” Butler said calmly, “the will specifically mentions the possibility of a third party joining the competition. It seems that Enoch Ambrose anticipated this turn of events.”

  “He what?” Smith’s face had turned a dark purple color. Melissa took a step away from him. She didn’t really think his head was going to explode, but she figured she couldn’t be too careful. She was wearing a white shirt.

  Butler didn’t seem to be the least bit concerned by the unusual shade of Linus Ambrose’s face. “Enoch Ambrose expected you to bend the rules in just this way, I’m afraid.” Mr. Butler gave Linus Ambrose a thin smile. “Now, shall we proceed?”

  Sybil turned her back on everyone but Butler. “Yes, Hughes, let’s end this farce as quickly as we can.”

  “Hughes?” Wilf said under his breath.

  “William Hughes, Enoch Ambrose’s attorney. Linus Ambrose, or ‘Smith,’ was calling him ‘Butler’ as a joke,” Inez said, making air quotes. “You know, like generic code names, ‘Mr. Smith’ and his butler. He thoug
ht it was a riot.”

  “Yeah, real funny,” Bondi said. These guys were so weird. He wasn’t going to feel bad about taking their inheritance at all.

  “I’m never going to remember Hughes,” Wilf muttered.

  “Don’t even try. Just think of him like the Sears Tower,” Bondi said, patting Wilf on the back. “Nobody calls it the Willis Tower, even if that’s its name now.”

  “Good point,” Wilf said, looking happier.

  Butler, aka William Hughes, clapped his hands together. “Now! We will interview everyone individually, beginning with Mrs. Ambrose-Murgeston. If you will, Mrs. Murgeston?” Butler ushered her into the open door in front of them.

  “That must be the directors’ room,” Melissa said, nudging Wilf and Bondi. “The conference room in between McCormick’s and Patterson’s offices.”

  Wilf nodded. He was glad Melissa had practically memorized that map, because he sure as heck hadn’t.

  As the doors closed, Linus Ambrose glared at them from the other side of the waiting room. “So done some research, have you? Think you know what’s happening here, don’t you, missy?” he said to Melissa as he walked slowly toward them. “You all seem to think very highly of yourselves for getting this far. Well, let me set you straight about one thing.”

  He stopped in front of Bondi and stood so close that Bondi could feel Linus Ambrose’s breath on his forehead.

  “You think you were selected at random? Or because you were smart? Ha!” He laughed in Bondi’s face. “I didn’t pick you because you were smart. I picked you because you’re losers. Juvenile delinquents. Criminals. Two steps away from jail.” Linus Ambrose laughed again, a harsh croaking laugh. “Oh yes, I know all about you. I watched you. All of you.” He pointed at Wilf. “Stinking thief. Quick to take advantage, aren’t you? Can’t pass up little opportunities like dropped tardy slips or unrestricted debit cards. And you…” He pointed at Melissa. “Backroom forger. With your black market worksheets, your underhanded business selling homework answers. No better than a common criminal.” Melissa had turned white. “Oh yes, I know all about that.” Linus Ambrose chuckled and turned back to Bondi. “And you, you’re nothing but a con man in the making, Mr. Personality. Working all the angles and manipulating people to get what you want. It’s always all about you. You think I didn’t see through that?”