“Or maybe she thought it would be more fun to talk to us this way,” Connor says.
“Hey, weren’t there two letters in that box with the flashlight?” I ask Connor. “I counted them. One. Two. You should read the other letter to us, too.”
But I don’t think Connor understands me.
“Does anybody have any idea who sent these letters to us?” Jillian asks.
“No,” Connor says.
Michael shakes his head.
I want to know who sent those letters, too. In fact, there are a lot of things I want to know about those letters. For instance:
Does the person who sent the letters really know Agatha?
Why were the letters sent to Connor, Michael, and Jillian? Why did Agatha choose them for some special jobs?
Did anyone else get a letter?
Why did Connor, Michael, and Jillian do what these letters told them to do when they don’t even know who sent the letters? Especially when some of these things could get them in trouble?
What does Connor’s other letter say?
“Did you do what the letter said?” Michael asks Connor. “Did you get a piece of paper and a jar? And did you write the alphabet on the paper?”
“Yes. It’s over there.” Connor points to the piano.
Michael goes over and grabs the paper and jar. “Maybe we should do what Connor’s letter says.”
“I don’t know,” I say. “I think we should find out who sent the letters. We don’t want any more trouble.”
But of course, no one pays attention to the dog.
“All right,” Jillian says. “Let’s see if we can talk to a ghost.”
6
Agatha Speaks
Michael lays the paper on the floor. Connor starts to set the jar down, but then pulls it back. “The letter didn’t say where to put the jar,” he says.
“It doesn’t matter. Put it anywhere,” Michael says.
Connor sets it on some letters in the middle of the page.
Connor, Michael, and Jillian lay their flashlights in their lap. Then they all scoot in closer and place their fingers on the jar.
“What do we do now?” Michael asks.
“We tell Agatha we’re ready,” Connor says.
“Okay,” Jillian says. “How do we do that?”
Connor shrugs. “I think we just call her name or something.” He clears his throat, then says, “Agatha? Oh, Agatha! We’re here. Are you here, too?” He looks around the dark room.
The jar on the paper starts to move.
Michael’s eyes grow wide. “Are you guys doing that?”
“No,” Jillian says. “I’m barely touching it. See?” She takes her fingers off the jar.
Connor lifts his fingers, too. “Same here.”
I inch a little closer so I can sniff the jar. I smell paint … and soap … and mayo. No ghosts.
“Off the paper, Buddy,” Connor says, shoving me with his elbow.
“I’m just trying to help,” I say. But I back up, lay down, and rest my head on my paws.
The jar stops over a letter. “I,” Jillian says.
Then the jar slides to another letter. “M,” Jillian says.
Connor and Michael say the next letters with Jillian. “H … E … R … E.” “Without the apostrophe that spells out ‘I’m here.’” Michael says.
Jillian pulls her fingers away like the jar is on fire. “Is that really Agatha?” she whispers.
“Put your fingers back on,” Connor says. “It’s moving again.”
Jillian returns her fingers to the jar and the jar sails across more letters. This time Connor says the words as they appear. “Yes … it’s … really … me.”
“I think one of you is moving the jar,” Jillian says.
“I’m not! I swear,” Michael insists.
He smells like he’s telling the truth.
“I’m not, either,” Connor says.
I sit back up. I think I smell a lie on Connor.
“Somebody ask Connor another question,” I say. “Or ask him the same question. Ask him if he’s moving the jar.” My boy doesn’t lie very often. Maybe I’m smelling something else on Connor. Something that smells like a lie, but really isn’t.
“Stop barking, Buddy,” Connor says.
“Maybe he’s barking because he sees Agatha,” Michael says. “Everyone knows dogs can see things that we can’t.”
“No, I don’t see Agatha,” I say. “I—”
“Shh, Buddy!” Connor says again.
I lay back down. I don’t like it when Connor shushes me. And I really don’t like it when I smell a lie on him.
“Okay, Agatha,” Connor says, staring at the jar. “Do you have a message for us?”
“Y … E … S,” Connor reads.
“What’s the message?” Michael asks.
Connor, Michael and Jillian peer over the jar as it starts to move again. “G … O … T … O … T … H … E … F … U … R—”
“Wait. Got … what?” Jillian says. “The jar is moving too fast.”
“The first word isn’t ‘got,’ ” Connor says. “It’s ‘go.’ Go to the … something.”
“Are you sure?” Michael asks. “I thought it was ‘got,’ too. ‘Got other’ something.”
The jar stops.
I have no idea what words the jar is spelling.
“Maybe one of us should write down the letters the jar stops on,” Jillian suggests.
“Would that work?” Michael asks. “The directions say we all have to put two fingers on the jar.”
“Let’s ask Agatha,” Connor says. He turns to the jar. “Agatha, is it okay if only two of us have our fingers on the jar? That way one of us can write down the message.”
The kids place their fingers back on the rim of the jar. “Y … E … S.”
Jillian shines the flashlight around the room. “Hey, there’s a chalkboard,” she says, hopping to her feet. She goes over to the chalkboard. “You guys read the letters to me and I’ll write them down,” Jillian says, holding her flashlight in one hand and a piece of chalk in the other.
“Okay,” Connor and Michael say at the same time.
Michael turns to the jar.
“We’re ready, Agatha,” he says. “Tell us your message.” The jar glides across the paper. Whenever it stops for a few seconds, Michael and Connor call out a letter and Jillian writes it down:
“G … O … T … O … T … H … E … F … U … R … N … A … C … E … R … O … O … M.”
“I think that’s it,” Connor says.
The jar remains still.
Jillian shines her flashlight across the message. She draws lines between some of the letters. “Go to the furnace room,” she reads. She turns to the boys. “Why do we have to go to the furnace room?”
Furnace room? I know about the furnace room. That’s where Maya hid Blue Tongue and his friends twenty or four days ago.
“The jar’s moving again,” Connor says. Michael reads: “Y … O … U … W … I … L … L … F … I … N … D … O … U … T … W … H … E … N … Y … O … U … G … E … T … T … H … E … R … E.”
Jillian draws more lines, then puts it all together. “You will find out when you get there.”
“Do you have any other messages for us?” Connor asks the jar.
“N … O.”
“I don’t even know where the furnace room is,” Michael says. “Do you guys?”
“I think it’s in the basement,” Connor says.
7
Lights Out!
CRACK! BOOM! Connor, Michael, Jillian and I all just about jump out of our skins.
That was one of the brightest lightning flashes I’ve ever seen and one of the loudest thunder crashes I’ve ever heard. It shook the whole school.
“I—I … wonder if we should go back to the library,” Connor says in a shaky voice.
“We can’t go back yet,” Michael says. “We have to do what Agatha says.
We have to go to the furnace room.”
But the furnace room is in the basement. And Cat with No Name told me that Agatha wants me to keep everyone out of the basement. He said Agatha doesn’t like people hanging around her school at night, and I’d be sorry if anyone went down there tonight.
“We’ve been gone a long time,” Connor says. “What if people start to wonder where we are?”
“Everyone’s watching a movie,” Michael says. “It’s fine.”
“I agree,” Jillian says. “We’ve come this far. We have to keep going. We have to find out what Agatha wants with us.”
The kids grab their flashlights and head for the door.
“Wait,” I say. “Let’s think about this.”
I don’t think Agatha was really talking to us tonight. I think Connor was moving the jar. I think he was pretending to be Agatha.
What I don’t know is why. Who told him to move the jar? Who told him to spell out GO TO THE FURNACE ROOM?
Here’s another thing I don’t know:
Did the message I got from Cat with No Name really come from Agatha or did he just make it up?
It’s interesting that the message I got from Cat was the same message Jillian was told to record on her tape recorder. Stay out of the basement. But we don’t know who told Jillian to record that message, either.
Maybe the kids are right. If we want to find out what’s going on around here, we may have to go to the furnace room. We may have to go to the basement.
There’s another loud thunder crash when we get out into the hall. Lights in the far hallway flicker.
“I think the stairs over here lead to the furnace room,” Michael says. He points to the end of the dark hallway ahead of us.
As we start down the stairs there is one more loud crash of thunder. This time all the lights in the school go out. We are in total darkness.
“It’s okay,” Jillian says. “We’ve got flashlights.” She flips hers on. The boys do the same.
All three kids smell very, very nervous.
But we keep going. Down, down, down the stairs.
“You might not be able to get into the furnace room,” I warn them when we reach the bottom. “It’s probably locked.” I remember Maya took the key from the office when she hid the lizards in there.
“Here it is,” Michael says, shining his flashlight on a door. “This is the furnace room.”
Jillian puts her hand on the doorknob and turns. Surprisingly enough, the door opens. We all step inside.
“Ew,” Jillian says. “It’s kind of creepy in here.”
It’s also hot. Hot and loud. Who knew furnaces made so much noise?
I smell dirt, dust, mold, spiders, mice, and paint. I can even smell Blue Tongue and the other lizards if I sniff real hard.
Connor and Jillian shine their flashlights all around the room.
“Now what?” Jillian asks.
“I don’t know,” Connor says.
“Agatha?” Michael calls. “Oh, Agatha! We’re here. What do you want us to do next?”
“Did anybody bring the paper and the jar?” Jillian asks, pointing her flashlight at Connor and Michael.
They both squint in the bright light, then shake their heads.
Jillian sighs. “Why not?” she asks Connor. “How are we supposed to talk to her without the paper and the jar?”
We better go back and get it,” Michael says. “Otherwise we’ll never find out what we have to do next.”
“I don’t think we need it,” Connor says. He takes a deep breath. “Guys, I have to tell you something.”
“What?” Jillian and Michael both look at him curiously.
“I, uh, actually got two letters with my flashlight.” He reaches into his back pocket and pulls out another piece of paper.
“You did?” Jillian says.
“What does the second one say?” Michael asks, grabbing the paper away from Connor.
“It said I was supposed to move the jar and talk for Agatha,” Connor says.
“So you did move the jar,” Jillian says.
I knew it!
Connor nods. “I was supposed to get you all to come down here.”
“Then what?” Jillian asks. She takes the note from Michael and shines her flashlight on it.
“That’s it,” Connor says. “Just get you guys to come down here. But I wasn’t supposed to tell you about this second letter. I really don’t know why we’re down here or what we’re supposed to do next.”
Connor is telling the truth.
“Maybe we should look around,” Jillian says, handing the letter back to Connor. “Maybe there’s a clue in here somewhere.” She shines her flashlight around the room again.
“I can look for clues, too,” I say.
Sniff … sniff … sniff … I stop in front of a wooden chair. There’s a paper on the seat of the chair. It has the same chocolate and bubblegum scent on it as the letters and flashlights that Connor, Michael, and Jillian received.
I grab the paper in my mouth and bring it over to Connor.
8
Secret Code
“What have you got there, boy?” Connor asks, taking the paper from me.
Michael and Jillian crowd in. Connor shines his flashlight on the paper. His forehead wrinkles. “What in the world—?” he says.
“It’s a code,” Jillian says.
“How do we crack it?” Michael asks.
“I don’t know,” Connor says.
“Let me see,” I say, nosing my way in. “Maybe I can crack it.”
Okay, maybe not. These are definitely not sight words:
EHMC SGD RDBQDS CNNQ.
SVHRS SGD RBQDVR.
BKHLA SGQNTFG.
ZMC XNT VHKK KDZQM ZKK LX RDBQDSR! —ZFZSGZ
I don’t know why Connor, Michael, and Jillian can read other words just fine, but they can’t read these words.
“Is it backwards writing?” Jillian asks. “What happens if you try and read the words backwards?”
“Nothing,” Connor says. “C-M-H-E isn’t a word.”
“Are the words scrambled?” Michael asks. “Do we have to unscramble each word?”
“I don’t think so,” Connor says. “I don’t think these are the right letters. Most of the words don’t even have any vowels in them.”
There has to be a better way to figure out why we’re down here than to stare at words that aren’t really words. I put my nose to the ground and snifg. I sniff the chair … the furnace … a pile of boxes. So far I don’t smell any clues.
“Maybe there’s another paper hidden in here somewhere that tells us how to solve that code?” Michael suggests.
“No, I bet we have to figure it out on our own,” Connor says.
“How?” Michael asks.
“I don’t know,” Connor says.
Hey, what’s this? I sniff a big metal grate in the wall. I smell that same chocolate and bubblegum scent that I smelled on all the papers and the flashlights.
“Guys, come over here!” I say, wagging my tail.
“What if we replace each letter in the message with the letter that comes before it in the alphabet?” Jillian asks.
“So E becomes D,” Connor says. “H becomes G. M becomes L. And C becomes B.”
“D-G-L-B still isn’t a word,” Michael says.
“Guys! Over here!” I say again. Louder this time.
“Buddy, shh!” Connor says. “We’re trying to think.”
Connor turns back to the paper. “What if we go the other way? What if we replace each letter with the letter that comes after it in the alphabet?” he says.
“E becomes F,” Jillian says. “H becomes I. M becomes N. C becomes D.”
“FIND!” Connor, Michael and Jillian all say at the same time.
“That’s a word,” Michael cries. “Let’s keep going.”
I drop my belly to the floor. It’s going to take them forever to solve that code. I know that whatever we’re looking for, it’s on the
other side of this grate.
Jillian goes word by word.
“Find … the … secret … door,” she says.
“It’s right here,” I say, sitting back up.
“Twist … the … screws,” Connor says.
I look up at the grate. There are screws in each of the corners.
“Climb … through,” Michael says. He turns to the others. “How do we go forward a letter with Z? There are no letters after Z.”
“Maybe Z becomes A?” Jillian says.
Like I said: FOREVER! It’s taking FOREVER for them to figure out each word.
They say the rest together: “And … you … will … learn … all … my … secrets.—Agatha!”
“So, where’s the secret door?” Michael asks.
“It’s here,” I say, scratching at the grate. “HERE!”
“Hey, what’s that over by Buddy?” Connor asks.
They all hurry over to see.
“Looks like a secret door,” Jillian says with a grin.
“And it’s got screws that twist,” Michael says, his fingers on one of the top screws.
Connor twists the other top screw. Jillian twists the two bottom screws. Then, together, they lift the grate out.
I jump into the hole in the wall. Whoa! It’s some sort of hidden tunnel. It smells damp and musty in here. The floor, walls, and ceiling are all made of concrete. Where does this tunnel go? I wonder.
“Wait, Buddy!” Connor says, climbing in after me. He shines his flashlight around the walls. The tunnel is tall enough for Connor to stand in. And wide enough for all three kids to stand in side by side.
I don’t see any secrets,” Michael says. “I don’t see anything.”
“Maybe we have to follow the tunnel and see where it goes,” Connor says.
I think Connor is right. Sniff … sniff … “I’ve got the trail right here,” I say, picking up the chocolate and bubblegum scent.
“Follow me!” I dash down the tunnel. The others follow slowly behind me, their flashlights lighting the way.
“Ooooooooooooooo!” a ghostly voice up ahead stops us all in our tracks.
“What was that?” Connor asks.
“I … thinnnk … we have … viiiiisitors,” the ghostly voice continues.
“Oh, goooooood,” says another ghostly voice. “I loooooove visitors.”
Case of the School Ghost Page 3