The Ambrose Deception

by Emily Ecton

  He handed a skeleton key to Melissa and another almost identical key to Sybil. Then he leaned back against the desk, his arms folded. “May you enjoy your rewards.”

  “Patterson? Patterson? What the heck, Melissa?” Wilf hissed as they headed to Captain Patterson’s office door.

  “You thought of something, didn’t you? I knew it!” Bondi said. “Please tell me you thought of something.”

  “How could she think of something? It was McCormick! His daughter knows it! The clue said it—co-editor in charge of the moon.”

  “No!” Melissa stopped. “The clue said beloved co-editor in charge of the moon. And McCormick wasn’t beloved by Ambrose. He would never call him that. That clue must’ve been about Patterson. McCormick, he was just the trick! Plus, Patterson’s office is on the north side of the building. McCormick’s is on the south.”

  “So?” Wilf said, sniffing.

  “Patterson’s office is the one that faces the Contribution frieze on the InterContinental Hotel. Not McCormick’s office. And remember? One points you forward, one takes you back, and one is a trick? The frieze takes you forward toward the prize. It’s the one showing the presentation of riches. This has to be it!”

  “Or it’s the trick,” Wilf muttered.

  “It was always a crapshoot, anyway. Let’s see what’s inside,” Bondi said, pointing at the key in Melissa’s hand.

  She turned it over once and then handed it to Wilf. “You do it,” she said. “I hope I didn’t mess this whole thing up for you.”

  Wilf took the key and weighed it in his hand. Then he looked up at Melissa and smiled. “Well, it’s not like we’ll be any worse off if we’re wrong, right? And this was a lot of fun, hanging out with you guys. Here goes nothing!” He sniffed again. “Ugh, sorry. Man, where is that smell coming from?” he said apologetically. It was driving him crazy.

  “Forget the smell. Just open it,” Bondi said.

  They opened the door to Captain Patterson’s office just as Mrs. Ambrose-Murgeston opened the door on the other side of the room. Hearts racing, they hurried inside. Then they stopped short.

  The room was empty.

  Ways to Cheer Yourself Up When You Win the Contents of an Empty Room

  by Bondi Johnson, Wilf Samson, and Melissa Burris

  1. Hey, materialism stinks, right? Who needs possessions?—Bondi

  2. AT LEAST IT’S NOT UGLY STUFF YOU HAVE TO SELL.—WILF

  3. Don’t have much spare room in the house, anyway.—Bondi

  4. How would we have gotten all those riches home? Very impractical.—Melissa

  “Well, I wasn’t thinking it would be empty,” Melissa said, her voice thick. The walls of the room were paneled in dark wood and broken up on the north and west by large, impressive windows.

  “Guess we should’ve picked the other room,” Wilf shrugged, kicking the floor.

  “Well—” Bondi started. But before he’d gotten more than one word out, the sound of Mrs. Ambrose-Murgeston’s screams filled the room. They weren’t happy screams.

  “Well, maybe not,” Bondi said, perking up. “She doesn’t sound too pleased over there. Maybe there’s still a chance?”

  “Maybe.” Wilf snickered. “Boy, she’s ticked.”

  “Hey, guys, see?” Melissa was leaning on the ledge of the north-facing window. “See there, you can see the Contribution frieze from here! I knew I was right!”

  “That does seem like a good sign,” Bondi said, craning his neck to look up at the wood paneling on the east wall. “But the room’s still empty. You were right about one thing, though—these panels are amazing. If I didn’t know there was a door in this wall, I’d never guess.”

  “Yeah, but it was McCormick who used to play that trick on his visitors, not Patterson,” Wilf said, rubbing his nose.

  “But they both could have….” Bondi looked around thoughtfully. “The offices are mirror images of each other, right? If McCormick’s office is empty, too, there’s got to be something we’re missing.”

  “Got to be,” Wilf said, digging in his pocket for a Kleenex. “Sorry, that peppermint smell is killing me.”

  “It’s in here, too?” Melissa said.

  “Stronger than ever.” Wilf blew his nose.

  “Mirror images,” Bondi repeated, examining the panel closest to him. He jimmied the edge, and the panel swung open to reveal a closet.

  “Right. Oh man, that’s a hidden closet!” Melissa rushed over to inspect it.

  “Yeah. An empty closet,” Wilf pointed out.

  “Yeah, but there’s a secret stairway in McCormick’s office, right?” Bondi’s eyes gleamed.

  “Right. So there’s one in here, too!” Melissa slammed the closet door shut and rushed over to the west wall. “It should be over here somewhere…” she said, running her hands up and down the paneling.

  “That’s so perfect—he must’ve hidden the inheritance in the secret stairway!” Wilf and Bondi quickly high-fived each other before rushing over to join in the hunt.

  Mrs. Ambrose-Murgeston was still screaming bloody murder in the other office, which seemed like a good sign. It was mostly cursing, it sounded like, with some abuse being thrown at her father, at Butler (or Hughes, as she called him), and at the world in general thrown in for good measure.

  Melissa reached the corner where the wall turned to create a window nook. She ran her hands up the edge and then caught her breath. Her finger had just caught on something.

  “Guys, I think I—”

  Bondi cut Melissa off with a hiss. “Shh—listen!” They froze, listening to the screams from the other office. Their tone had changed.

  Mrs. Ambrose-Murgeston was no longer ranting about how Butler was going to jail. Other voices had joined hers, and one was shouting louder than the rest. A voice Bondi and Melissa and Wilf all recognized. Mr. Linus Ambrose’s voice.

  “It’s Smith! He’s back!” Bondi didn’t move a muscle.

  Wilf crept quietly over to the partially open door and peeked through. “I think those are cops,” he whispered, his eyes wide. “He really brought the cops.”

  Bondi felt panic rising in his chest. “Oh man. We only have a minute before they come in here, too,” he whispered. “Wilf, the door!”

  Wilf nodded, then slowly and silently nudged the office door shut with his foot. They waited, afraid to move, for a long thirty seconds. Melissa knew. She’d counted.

  Melissa reached back up and examined the piece of the wall that had caught her finger. A small knob was embedded in the wood. A strangled sob-laugh rose in her throat. “Guys, I found it!”

  She grabbed the knob and pulled it gently. The entire section of panel swung open, revealing a shallow opening in the wall and a narrow stairway leading up into darkness.

  “The secret stairway,” Bondi breathed.

  “You can’t arrest me! It’s those brats you should be arresting!” Sybil’s voice was harsh and grating. “They’re in there!”

  “Quick!” Bondi ducked into the stairway, dragging Wilf and Melissa behind him. They’d barely gotten the door shut when they heard footsteps coming into the room.

  “So this is the secret stairway, huh?” Wilf whispered. He couldn’t see anything, but he could hear Bondi and Melissa breathing hard. “Guess we know where the peppermint smell was coming from.”

  Melissa sniffed. She could smell it now, too. “Yeah, I see what you mean. Bondi, we should go up. We can’t go back out now, not with the cops there.” If they didn’t know about the secret stairway, she wasn’t about to clue them in. And there was no way she was getting arrested. Mrs. Orlin would never shut up about it if she did.

  “Right,” Bondi whispered. “My keychain has a light…hold on.”

  Melissa could hear Bondi fiddling with something, and then a dim light illuminated his face. Or part of it. It was a tiny beam of light.

  “Okay, let’s go up.” Bondi started slowly climbing the stairs, the pinprick of light leading the way. Melissa and Wilf climbed aft
er him.

  “I bet the treasure’s at the top,” Wilf said quietly, trying not to breathe too loudly. Bondi was breathing hard enough for both of them. He hoped he was okay.

  “Bondi, you all right?” Wilf finally said. “If you need to take a break, we can.”

  Bondi half turned to face him. “What? Why would I?”

  “You sound pretty bad, buddy.” Wilf hated to say it flat out like that, but somebody had to.

  “Your breathing,” Melissa said softly.

  Bondi stopped short. “I thought that was you.”

  Wilf froze. “It’s not.”

  “It’s not me, either.”

  The three of them stared at each other in the yellowy light from Bondi’s keychain, listening to the low, raspy breathing filling the secret stairway.

  Eyes wide, Bondi shone the weak light up step after step until it reached the dark space at the top.

  “SURPRISE!”

  The raspy voice made Bondi and Melissa jump so violently that they almost toppled backwards onto Wilf. There, illuminated in the weak light from Bondi’s keychain, a face was leering down at them.

  The face of Enoch Ambrose.

  How to Choose Between the Police and a Dead Guy

  by Melissa Burris, Wilf Samson, and Bondi Johnson

  1. There is no choice. Just die right where you’re standing.—Melissa

  2. YEAH, SERIOUSLY. (NO REALLY, IF YOU HAVE TO CHOOSE, GO WITH THE DEAD GUY. A FEW WELL- PLACED KICKS SHOULD TAKE HIM OUT, RIGHT?)—WILF

  3. Is there a third option?—Bondi

  4. KICKS, RIGHT? (RIGHT?)—WILF

  “Boy, am I glad to see you!”

  “Enoch Ambrose? But…you’re dead?” Melissa stammered, trying really hard not to barf.

  Enoch Ambrose was perched at the top of the stairs like some kind of ancient spider, grinning like he’d just won the lottery.

  “Says who? Can’t trust anything you read in the papers these days.” Ambrose stretched his legs and scuttled down a few steps until he was right next to them.

  “So you’re not dead?” Wilf really didn’t want to try to fight a dead guy. He thought he could probably take him no problem, but he didn’t want to find out.

  “Do I look dead?” Enoch Ambrose mugged like he was posing for a picture.

  “No,” Wilf admitted. “And you don’t smell dead. That peppermint smell is you, isn’t it?”

  Enoch Ambrose sniffed his shirt. “I suppose so.”

  “And I smelled that on the first day,” Wilf said accusingly. “You’ve been in on this the whole time!”

  Enoch Ambrose shrugged. “Well, what’s the point of planning a big inheritance scheme if you aren’t around to enjoy it? You bet I was there the whole time, and those greedy kids of mine never suspected! I knew that boy Linus would try to cheat and ruin my fun.” He leaned in conspiratorially. “So what’s going on? Sybil picked McCormick’s office?”

  Melissa nodded. “She seemed pretty sure of herself.”

  Enoch gave a wheezy chuckle. “She always was starstruck by that blowhard. If she understood me at all, she’d know that McCormick stuff was all a trick.” He leaned forward again, grinning. “Well, I showed her. Know what was hidden in McCormick’s hidden stairway? Big bucket of stinky dead fish, that’s what. Nothing Sybil hates more!”

  “Oh man, that’s harsh,” Wilf said. He was starting to like this guy.

  “Yep, a couple of cold fish, that’s what my kids turned out to be. Boy was I glad when Willie told me about you kids!”

  “Willie?” Melissa said weakly.

  “Willie Hughes, my lawyer. Butler, he’s been calling himself, for Linus’s scam. He’s been a real peach, sneaking me around so I can keep tabs on Linus and his schemes. They never suspected a thing, not when I was right under their noses. But it worked out, didn’t it? Now let me guess, did Linus call the cops?”

  “Yeah,” Wilf said.

  “And they’re down there now?”

  “I think so,” Melissa said. “It sounded like they were arresting people.”

  “Oh, we can’t miss that. Besides, it’s time we got you introduced. I want the world to meet my three smart kids, the new Ambrose heirs!”

  INHERITANCE SHOCKER! ENOCH AMBROSE ALIVE!

  Psychic claims to have seen all

  ECCENTRIC BILLIONAIRE NAMES JUVENILE DELINQUENTS AS HEIRS

  Ambrose children’s lawsuit thrown out of court

  DEATH HOAX SHOCKER!!

  Ambrose billionaire faked his own death. Could others be next? We discover Elvis, Tupac, and Gandhi

  LIVING IN DAYTONA BEACH.

  I KNEW PRETEEN CON ARTIST

  One guidance counselor opens up about her disturbing experiences with preteen con artist turned Ambrose heir

  “Wow, that last article really isn’t fair,” Melissa said, throwing the newspaper on the table. “Mrs. Orlin is having a hard time letting this go. Thank goodness Ambrose fixed it so me and Tanisha can go to Noyes Central with you and Bondi.”

  “Yeah, I was psyched that Ambrose could get me out of Sutherland. Bondi’s friends seem cool, too,” Wilf said absentmindedly as he pointed to a different headline. “Is this stuff true? About Elvis?”

  Melissa rolled her eyes. “What do you think? Did we really…?” She picked up another paper and read out loud: “. . . creep like a cancer into Linus Ambrose’s happy home, conning the aged bachelor with false displays of filial affection, all the while secretly plotting to steal his fortune?”

  “Well, no,” Wilf said. “I guess not.”

  “You should see the stuff they’re saying online. It’s even worse.” Melissa snorted. One of the first things Enoch Ambrose had done (after straightening things out with the police) was replace their crappy loaner phones and get them all set up with what he called “life accoutrement”—up-to-date smartphones, laptops to use for schoolwork, and weekly allowances so that Melissa could leave the world of black market worksheets behind. She didn’t miss it. (Tyler Blake sure did, though.)

  Enoch Ambrose hobbled over to the table, weighed down with a heavy tray from the Lincoln Park Zoo snack bar. “Who wants a hot dog? Wilf, I know you do.”

  Wilf turned pale. “Not for me, thanks.”

  Enoch Ambrose chuckled. “That was a hoot to hear about, I have to tell you. Hot dog taste test competition! What an idea. You’re a chip off the old block. You all are.”

  He grabbed a fry and chomped down on it.

  “What do you mean?” Melissa said, taking Wilf’s rejected hot dog. “Linus said we were criminals. He called us thieves and con artists and liars.”

  Ambrose chortled, dribbling ketchup on the table. “Linus is an idiot. Never had time for my tomfoolery, as he called it. Now this one”—he ruffled Wilf’s hair—“he has my sense of adventure and fun; that was clear from the get-go. That Bondi, he’s a hard worker and a people person. He’s going places. And Melissa, you’re my little entrepreneur. You know what Linus is? A drip, that’s what. Sybil, too. Two world-class drips,” he finished, waving the french fry in the air for emphasis. “Where is that Bondi, anyway?”

  Melissa pointed in the direction of the zoo barn. “Here he comes.”

  “Guys, check it out.” Bondi plunked something round and orange down in the middle of the table.

  Melissa poked it with a finger. “What is that?” It looked like a little orange tennis ball with legs.

  “It’s a wax pig from the Mold-A-Rama machine,” Bondi said.

  “Plastic,” Wilf said, his mouth full of fries.

  “It’s a plastic pig from the Mold-A-Rama machine,” Bondi said, shooting Wilf a nasty look.

  “What?” Melissa looked shocked. “No more blue cows?”

  “I guess not,” Bondi said. “Good thing we figured out that clue when we did. Hey, way to go, picking a clue that changes, Gramps.” He plopped down onto the bench next to Enoch Ambrose.

  “Well, how was I supposed to know they’d change the animal?” Ambrose grumbled, trying to k
eep from smiling. He was looking really good for a formerly dead guy. Much better than he’d looked at the end of “Enoch Ambrose: The Later Years.”

  “Melissa!”

  She looked up to see her grandmother trotting over from the direction of the seal pool. Gran’s expression was nonchalant, but Melissa noticed her hair was freshly done and she was wearing lipstick.

  “Why, Mr. Ambrose, how lovely to meet you. Melissa has told me so much about you.” Gran coolly extended her hand, like she was meeting one of Melissa’s teachers or something. She definitely wasn’t acting like someone who owned the complete set of the Ambrose Chronicles, Volumes 1–6, from Time-Life Books.

  “It’s a pleasure, madam.” Enoch Ambrose wiped his mouth on a napkin. Then he stood, took Gran’s hand, and kissed it.

  Gran blushed and withdrew her hand with obvious effort, turning her attention back to Melissa. “Now, Melissa, I’ll be back in about an hour. Mrs. Lewis wants me to meet her new friend. Katya or Katrinka or something, I can’t remember. You’ll keep an eye on Liam?”

  Melissa nodded. “He’s with Dimitri and Inez and Frank. They wanted to check out the antelopes.” Melissa was glad to see her grandmother going out with her friends, even when it wasn’t McDonald’s day. Heck, it was good to be able to hang out with her own friends without having to worry so much now. Her new friends. Melissa looked around the table and smiled.

  “That sounds fine. I’ll be back soon. Good-bye, Mr. Ambrose. It was an honor. “She patted her hair and then turned and walked away, only glancing back two or three times.

  Enoch Ambrose watched her go. “And who was that vision of loveliness?”

  “That was my grandmother,” Melissa said, putting the french fry down. She had a feeling she was about to lose her appetite.

  “Rowr.” Enoch Ambrose’s eyes glittered.

  Bondi blinked. “Did he just say ‘rowr’?”

  Melissa nodded. “He did. Rowr.” She made a cat claw motion with her hand.

  Bondi put down his burger. “I think I’m going to be sick.”