Philip and the Haunted House (9781619500020)

by Paulits, John

  “Where is it?” Emery whispered. “See it anywhere?”

  Philip’s heart thumped like it was jumping up and down trying to put out a fire in his chest. Suddenly, a gust of breeze blew a piece of paper from the porch toward the boys. The paper landed at Emery’s feet, and he bent to pick it up.

  Emery studied the paper and held it in front of Philip. “Philip, did you put a Happy Pie in this lunch?”

  “I put blueberry,” he gulped, staring at the wrapper in Emery’s hand. “That’s a blueberry Happy Pie paper.” Philip took a step backward, and Emery stepped back with him.

  In a rising voice ending in a scream Emery cried, “Philip, something ate the Happy Pie. Let’s get out of here!”

  Philip didn’t have to be told twice. Off the boys ran at top speed, and they didn’t stop until they reached Philip’s living room.

  Chapter Seven

  “Before we go home today,” Mr. Ware began, “we have time to check on how some of you are coming with your community service project.”

  Emery’s hand shot up, and Mr. Ware said, “Yes, Emery?”

  “We’re finished. Philip and me.”

  Mr. Ware raised his eyebrows. “So soon? What was your project?”

  Emery said proudly, “We beautified the neighborhood.”

  The class giggled, and Philip slunk down in his seat.

  “And how did you beautify the neighborhood? Give us a preview of your report. We have a little time now,” Mr. Ware said with a smile.

  Emery told their story, leaving out any suggestion about the house being haunted and about the disappearing lunches. He ended, “And we’ll be getting the before and after pictures tonight. Philip’s dad is bringing them home after his work.”

  “Well, very impressive, Emery, Philip. The rest of you, class, still have time, though. And you two boys can still try to add to yours, improve it if you can think of a way, but it sounds very good as it is. Anyone have any questions?”

  Since the hands of the clock showed three o’clock, no one was dumb enough to prolong the school day by asking a question, so Mr. Ware dismissed the class.

  Emery asked his mother’s permission to have dinner at Philip’s house so he would be there when Philip’s father got home from work with the photographs. On their way home they peeked down Pratt Street toward the haunted house, but nothing unusual met their cautious eyes.

  “What’s your mom cooking tonight?” Emery asked as the two boys opened their book bags and got right to their homework.

  “I don’t know.”

  “Aren’t you two going out to play?” Philip’s mom asked when she saw them.

  Even though Pratt Street had looked like any normal street, and even though the weather outside made for a very lovely November day, the boys decided to stay inside.

  “No, we have homework, Mom. What’s for dinner?”

  “Well, since your father had to stop by the mall to pick up your photos, we decided he’d bring home some Chinese food for dinner. Mom’s night off.”

  “Fortune cookies, too?” Philip asked. “And those crispy noodles with the sweet sauce?”

  “I think your father’s lived with you long enough, Philip, to know. Don’t worry.”

  Philip and Emery slapped hands and got to work. They took a break at four-thirty to watch The Three Stooges on TCM for half-an-hour, but by the time Philip’s dad walked in at five forty-five, they’d finished with their homework.

  “Did you get the pictures, Dad? Let me see,” said Philip.

  “Here they are,” Mr. Felton said, putting down the big bag of Chinese food and reaching into his briefcase. He tossed the bag of photographs to Philip, who curled up on the sofa with Emery to look them over. Mr. Felton hung up his coat, and carried the wonderful smelling bag of food to the kitchen.

  “Wow,” said Emery. “They look good. You look stupid in this one with your foot on the bag of grass. You look like you’re Tarzan, and you killed it or something.”

  Philip felt silly when he looked at the picture, but Emery was right. The pictures did look good. “We’re getting an A for sure.”

  “Did you write up our report?” Emery asked.

  “Most of it. I can write the rest now we have the pictures. You know, put those words at the bottom of the pictures.”

  “Captions,” Emery explained.

  “What?”

  “Captions. They’re called captions.”

  “Oh.” Philip thought a moment. “If you know what they’re called, why don’t you write them?”

  Emery thought a moment. “I know what a rocket ship is, but I can’t build one. I know what a home run is, but I can’t hit one. I know what a poem is, but I can’t write one. I know what Chinese food is...”

  “All right. All right. I get it.”

  Philip’s mom called that dinner would be ready in five minutes.

  Philip looked over the pictures again and began to arrange them for the report.

  “These two go together,” said Emery when he saw Philip matching the photos.

  “I know. I know. And this one...” Philip stopped. He picked up one of the photos from the sofa cushion and held it close to his eyes. He took the companion picture and studied it even more closely. He picked up two more and put them aside. He picked up another two and after them another two. After he’d inspected all the photos, he kept one pair in his hand and put another pair down in front of him.

  “What’s wrong?” Emery asked.

  “Emery...” Philip began.

  “Philip, what?”

  “Look at these two pictures.”

  Emery took them and studied them. “Yeah, so?”

  “You know those puzzles? Like in the Sunday comics. Find six things different from one picture to another?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Find one thing different from this picture to this one.”

  “The grass is cut.”

  “Don’t be stupid. Would I ask you if it was that easy?”

  Emery tried again.

  “We’re standing in a little different spot?”

  Philip glared at his friend.

  Emery defended himself and said, “Well, in those comic puzzles some of the things are only changed real little. A finger moved and stuff like that.”

  “Look at the porch.”

  “The porch. Okay, I’ll look at the porch.”

  Philip waited.

  “Yeah. There’s something. A piece of paper.”

  “Right. Look close. I think it’s a Happy Pie paper.”

  Emery looked close.

  “Maybe, but it’s just a regular piece of paper.”

  “You see the color?”

  “Mmmm,” said Emery, concentrating on the picture. “It’s Happy Pie colors.”

  “My mom put Happy Pies in our missing lunches. Remember?”

  “So the…whatever ate the pie and threw away the paper?”

  “You think I’m kidding? The whatever ate the pie the second time when we tried to catch it, didn’t it?”

  “Don’t call it an ‘it.’ I don’t like…it.”

  Philip frowned at Emery. “Now look at this.” He handed Emery two more pictures.

  Emery looked at them carefully. He looked up at Philip, his eyes wide.

  “Even you see this one, don’t you?”

  “The window’s open,” said Emery softly. “It’s not open in the first picture, and it’s open in the second.” There were windows on each side of the front door, and one of the windows had opened itself very slightly in between when Philip’s father took the first picture and when he took the second picture.

  “Why is the window open, Emery?”

  “Maybe the whatever wanted some fresh air?”

  “I think you need some fresh air. No. The window’s open because this house has to be haunted, Emery,” Philip said decisively. “Windows don’t open by themselves.”

  Emery looked again at the second picture. Without doubt, someone or... something opened
the window while he and Philip cut the grass.

  “Dinner, boys. Come and get it,” called Philip’s mom.

  Philip turned the photos upside-down on the coffee table. “We’ll figure this out later. Let’s go eat,” he said and led Emery into the kitchen.

  Chapter Eight

  As Philip went upstairs to take his bath later, he heard his parents talking in the living room. It sounded interesting so he sat on the next to the top step to listen.

  “They haven’t caught them yet,” his father said.

  “You don’t think they’d start robbing houses, do you?” his mother asked.

  “Probably not. Not enough money in them. They made off with quite a bit from the pizza store Saturday night and the deli the day before. The paper said the police think the robbers might actually be from this neighborhood since they seem to know it so well.”

  “Can’t they trace the money and arrest them when they spend it?”

  Philip’s father shrugged. “Maybe. They can if they know the serial numbers, but it’s not likely the store owners wrote them down.”

  “No, I suppose not,” Philip’s mother answered.

  Philip heard someone get up so he got up, too, and went into the bathroom. He turned on the water for his bath and began to think. As he sat in the bathtub, he thought some more. Usually he found some way to play in the water, but this time he didn’t bother playing. He simply sat and thought. After he dried off and got into his pajamas, he went downstairs to say goodnight to his parents. He climbed back up to his room, turned off the lights, nestled into bed, and thought some more. Soon, he had it all figured out. He had a plan, but he’d need Emery’s help because he knew he couldn’t act out his plan all by himself. No way.

  As Philip slept, he dreamed he moved toward a very dark place with something close behind him. He turned and saw another boy his size. It had to be Emery. Together they moved into the dark place. An odd noise sounded nearby. He turned to the boy next to him but couldn’t see the boy’s face. Together, they moved forward. Suddenly, a bright shape came at them from the right. The boys ducked. Then a bright shape came from the left. They ducked again. Philip turned and a bright shape came from behind them. He and the other boy ran. The other boy pointed. Ahead of them lay a golden object. They ran to it, and the other boy picked it up. More bright shapes came at them. He and the other boy ducked and ran faster and faster toward a light gleaming ahead of them. The bright shapes chasing them disappeared as they approached the light, and the other boy still had it—the golden treasure.

  Philip’s eyes opened, and he could feel his heart beating hard. Why? Oh, his dream. Then he remembered it. All of it. A dream about entering a scary place and coming out of it with a treasure. Two boys, like Tom and Huck. But this time—him and Emery! In the haunted house! The dream made him certain what he’d planned earlier would work! The haunted house had to be the place where the bandits who robbed the neighborhood stores hid the stolen money, especially if, as his father said, they knew the neighborhood. The opened window in the photograph proved someone—and not a whatever—used the house. It had to be the robbers. Who else could it be? Wait until he told Emery what he’d figured out! They had a chance to be rich! They could get the money when the crooks weren’t looking. It would be easy. He only had to convince Emery to go inside the haunted house with him, and he’d do that in school today.

  ****

  “Let’s walk past the haunted house,” said Philip as he and Emery walked home from school.

  Emery stopped. “Why?”

  “I want to tell you something about the haunted house.”

  “Same side of the street or across?”

  “Across,” Philip answered more quickly than he meant to. He’d never convince Emery to go inside with him if he acted afraid of the house.

  As they walked, Philip talked. He told his friend everything he figured out the night before. By the time they stood opposite the house, Philip had said all he needed to. With its newly mown lawn and with the bright November sun shining, the house looked peaceful.

  “The window’s closed,” Emery said.

  “I see.” It was the first thing Philip had looked for.

  Emery went on. “You really think the crooks hid the money inside the house?”

  “Somebody opened the window, right?”

  “But if we go in to get the money, won’t they be in there and get us?”

  “No, I told you. You don’t think they stay there all the time, do you? Somebody would see them. Somebody would see them go in and out if they were there all the time. They can’t cook there or anything like that. And if a grownup saw the window down and up and then down again, the grownup would investigate or call the police.”

  “I’ll bet they can’t even flush the toilet.”

  Philip looked at Emery.

  “Somebody might hear it.”

  “So there you go. They were there on Saturday when we cut the grass because they committed a robbery on Friday night. They hid the money and went away. They did it again on Sunday afternoon when they threw away the Happy Pie paper. There’s got to be a lot of money in there, Emery.”

  “When we get it, do we put it in the bank or what do we do with it? Can we go out and spend it?”

  “I don’t think we could spend so much money. Thousands and thousands of dollars.”

  Pronouncing such a vast amount silenced the boys as they contemplated the wonder of it.

  “Do we have to give it back?” Emery asked. “If we know it’s stolen money and we keep it, can’t we go to jail?”

  “You always make problems,” Philip grumped. But he didn’t have an answer. “I’ll ask my dad. Even if we have to give it back, we’ll probably get a reward. A big reward.”

  “Can’t we tell the police where the money is and let them get it?”

  “They won’t believe us, and suppose they get the reward then. And besides we won’t know where it is unless we go in and find it. It could be upstairs, downstairs, in the basement. Let’s find it first, and we can decide what to do second.”

  Emery started across the street.

  “Where are you going?” Philip asked.

  “Aren’t we going to look for the money?”

  “Are you crazy? Not now. We can’t let anyone see us go in there. We’ll get chased or somebody’ll follow us in, and they’ll find the money instead of us. We have to pick a right time.”

  “I like now,” said Emery. “It’s light out and there’s lots of people around.”

  “But we don’t know if they robbed any place last night. If they did, they might be in there hiding more money.”

  “Oh. Maybe.” Emery examined the house. “I don’t see anyone.”

  “Of course you don’t see anyone,” Philip cried in exasperation. “You think they sit at the windows and wave hello to people?”

  “How can we know when to go in?”

  “It has to be after a day when they didn’t commit a robbery.”

  “It could be today,” Emery said.

  “But we’re not sure. Look, let’s both listen to the radio before we go to school tomorrow. If there’s another robbery around here, it will on the radio. Remember, as soon as you wake up, turn on the radio, and if there was no robbery, we’ll sneak around back tomorrow after school and see if we can find a way in.”

  Both boys felt a chill as they thought of what they planned to do.

  “Let’s get out of here,” said Philip. “We’ll look suspicious if we stand around much longer.” He and Emery turned and, filled with thoughts of what tomorrow might bring, walked the rest of the way home.

  Chapter Nine

  “Dad, were there any more robberies?” Philip tried to sound casual as he asked the question.

  “Robberies?”

  “You know. Like the two in the neighborhood, the pizza store and the sandwich store.”

  “Oh. No, not since Saturday night.”

  Philip thought a minute. “Did they catch t
he bad guys yet?”

  “I don’t think so.” Philip’s father sat reading the newspaper. The family had finished dinner, and his mother had gone down to Mrs. Moriarty’s house.

  “What’s the newspaper say?”

  “Nothing about any more robberies.” His father folded the newspaper onto his lap. “What’s up?”

  “Do you know if there’s a reward? You know, if someone found the money and gave it back.”

  “I don’t know, but it’s likely the stores would show their gratitude. Why? You got a lead in the case?”

  Philip stomach jumped. He looked at his father, but saw he was only kidding.

  “Suppose someone found the money and kept it?”

  “I think they could land in lots of trouble if they did.”

  “Would they go to jail?”

  “It’s possible.”

  Philip didn’t like the sound of that. He and Emery would have to be satisfied with the reward. Philip’s father opened up his newspaper again, and Philip made his way up to his room. There was nothing to do now but to listen to the radio tomorrow morning.

  “This is WIBG in beautiful Brunton, Pennsylvania. The temperature is a seasonable 46 degrees. At the tone the time will be 8 o’clock. beep And now the news.”

  Philip listened to stories about Washington, President Obama, the Middle East and something about wrangling over debt.

  “And now your local news.”

  Philip sat up and gave the radio every ounce of his attention. The Mayor did this. Somebody else did that. Something about school taxes. A story about a lady whose cat got stuck in a tree for two whole days. Philip knew when they got to the cat story the serious news was over. He sighed with relief. He dashed back to his room and stuck his flashlight into his book bag. They’d need it if they had to go down into the haunted house basement.

  Philip racked his brain, but couldn’t come up with anything else they might need. He’d told his mother he’d be at Emery’s house after school, but he knew as soon as he and Emery dropped off their book bags, their adventure would begin.