Murder House

by Franklin W. Dixon

  “Frank!” She blinked rapidly. “I didn’t even hear you come in. I saw this”—she jerked her hand toward the drawing—“and it completely freaked me out.”

  “It is pretty creepy,” I agreed.

  “The way the demon is about to grab her.” She shook her head hard.

  “Demon? Is that what you think it’s supposed to be?” I asked.

  “I guess it could be a basic under-the-bed monster,” she answered. “But with Veronica bringing up the story about Nina and how her father told her that her mother had been taken over by a demon . . . My mind just went there.”

  “Makes total sense. It’s probably what whoever drew it wanted us to think,” I said. “Somebody’s trying to scare us. Keep us thinking about the curse, about the house’s history.”

  “Well, it worked. I’m officially scared,” Brynn admitted.

  “Maybe it’s something Veronica and the producers came up with. I can see them trying to add extra excitement,” I suggested.

  The motivation made sense to me. But there were a lot of puzzle pieces that didn’t fit with that theory. The sketchbook Olivia and Gail really didn’t want me to see, for one. Georgina’s sabotaged brakes, for another. Trying to make us think the house was cursed was a lot different from actually putting a player’s life in danger.

  And there was still the glass that had been mixed with the ice in James’s water. Mary had insisted she hadn’t done that when the police came to take her away. She’d confessed to everything else. The e-mail threats. The dead bird. The wood rolling off the woodpile on top of me. Putting the rattler in Ripley’s bed. Everything but the glass. Why bother to deny it, if she’d really done it? Still, the glass in the ice didn’t seem like something Veronica and company would do.

  “I don’t see Veronica doing this,” Brynn said.

  “Really? Why?” I was curious to hear her take on the situation at Deprivation House.

  Brynn reached down and flicked on a light switch at knee level on the wall. Weird place for it. The light made the drawing look even more unnatural.

  She ran her fingers across it, then trembled as they snagged on a ripped piece of wallpaper. “This wasn’t done by somebody rational, somebody thinking of TV ratings.” She turned to face me. “Frank, whoever drew this is deeply disturbed. Truly, seriously unbalanced.”

  Silent Girl Screams

  “I agree with Brynn,” Olivia said. “Whoever drew that is one messed-up individual.”

  Frank and Brynn had called the rest of us down to the library. We were staring at the drawing Brynn had discovered.

  “Either that, or one great strategy mastermind,” Frank commented.

  Was that aimed at Olivia? She was the player most concerned with strategy. She’d even organized a secret alliance. I only knew about it because Frank had told me.

  Ann’s deep into strategy too, I reminded myself. The whole reason she never talked was because she thought revealing any info about herself could give the competition an advantage.

  “I’m sticking with my theory that the producers are behind all this demon curse stuff,” I said.

  “Yeah? I think one of you did it,” James announced. “One of you standing in this room right now, acting all innocent.”

  “Does that include you?” I asked, interested to see what reaction I’d get. “You came back into the mansion pretty fast after Veronica played her I-know-a-secret game. What did you do? Maybe a little drawing.” I jerked my chin toward the wall.

  James had some . . . let’s call them anger management issues, and the way the crayon had ripped into the wallpaper seemed Jamesian to me somehow.

  “Have I entered a time warp? Didn’t everyone just say all this stuff?” asked Hal. “Scary thing, accusations.” He shook his head. “Clearly, talking about it isn’t going to solve it. No one’s going to confess. We’re going to go around and around and around and get nowhere.”

  “You have something better to do, nerd boy?” James demanded. “I’m thinking you don’t want to talk about it because you have something to hide.” His eyes narrowed. “Who have we all seen drawing away the whole time we’ve been here?”

  “Hal,” said Olivia quickly.

  “Those are schematics. Plans. They are highly detailed and precise,” Hal protested. “Nothing like what’s on the wall. It looks like a kid drew it.”

  “Yeah,” Frank agreed. “To me it seems likely that whoever wrote that message in the chamber drew the picture. That writing looked like it had been done by a little kid, and Hal’s right about the drawing. It definitely seems like it was made by a child.” He glanced over at Olivia and Gail, who were standing close together. “Or at least someone who wants to give that impression.”

  “So you’re saying it could still be the nerd,” James said. “Only he changed his style to get us off track.”

  “I didn’t exactly—” Frank began.

  “You know what?” Gail interrupted. “I just realized James wasn’t the only one who left the group early after our little meeting with Veronica. Brynn, you left early too.”

  “You think Brynn made the drawing and then pretended to find it? That’s extra twisted,” Olivia said.

  “Why are we thinking that the drawing had to have been made today?” I asked. “Did anyone go into the library before Brynn?”

  “That’s what we’re trying to find out, boy genius,” James answered. “Who came in and did the drawing.”

  “I mean did anyone—not the perp—come into the library earlier today?” I clarified.

  “Perp. Now he’s all hard-core.” James sneered.

  Shoot, I had to be careful not to be so obvious about my training.

  “I didn’t come to the library before now,” Georgina answered.

  I got no’s and head shakes from everybody else. “So we don’t know when the drawing was done. It could have been last night. That would make sense, since we’re pretty sure the show doesn’t waste the camera time it has filming us sleeping.”

  “So we don’t know anything,” said Gail.

  “I still say it’s someone in this room,” James insisted.

  “And I say he who smelt it dealt it,” George answered.

  James jerked his head toward George. “What is that supposed to mean?”

  George raised his eyebrows. “I guess they don’t teach analogies in public school. What it means is, you’re the one who started all the accusations about the drawing. That’s the ‘smelt it’ part. Am I talking slowly enough? And I think you’re the one who actually did the drawing. That would be the ‘dealt it’ part.”

  “Want to see what I learned in public school?” James asked. He didn’t wait for an answer. He launched himself at George and knocked him to the ground.

  “Smash his smug rich-boy face in!” Olivia shouted.

  I knew she had an attitude about rich people, but—wow.

  James pinned George with a knee to the stomach. “I learned how to fight!” James yelled. Then he slammed George in the jaw.

  George pretty much just . . . squirmed.

  I figured as a rich boy myself—at least as long as I was undercover—I had to step in. I rushed over and locked one arm around James’s thick neck. A couple of moves and he was on his back, with my knee on his chest.

  “Rich boys also take martial arts,” I told him.

  “That’s right!” said George as his twin helped him off the ground.

  Idiot. I shot him a look that I hoped he read as I’m not going to save your pampered rear twice.

  “So, we’re in agreement. We don’t know who did this?” I asked the whole group the question, but I kept my eyes on James. He gave a tiny nod.

  “I keep looking at the drawing,” Olivia said. “Is it just me . . . or does the little girl kind of look like Brynn?”

  “It’s practically a stick figure,” Hal protested.

  “Same hair,” Olivia pointed out. “And the way the nose is drawn, it looks like it turns up at the end, the way Brynn�
�s does.”

  “And Georgina’s,” her twin observed. “She has the hair, too.”

  “I am now officially creeped out,” Georgina announced.

  I looked over at Brynn to see how she was reacting. She was staring at the drawing, her eyes almost glazed. Then she gave her head a hard shake. “I think I’ve looked at it long enough. I’m going to go take a special Deprivation House cold shower. I’m never taking hot water for granted again!”

  After she left, Hal stepped closer to the drawing and ran his finger over the picture of the girl. “I don’t see it.”

  “If the girl is supposed to be Brynn or Georgina, are we supposed to think that demon beastie thing is real too?” asked Gail.

  “I hope so,” James said. “Charades is way too boring. And we don’t have any TV. If there’s a demon in the house, I hope it makes an appearance. Can’t they do your bidding if you sell them your soul?” He tilted his head back and threw out his arms. “My soul is up for grabs if you could arrange for a—”

  “Stop it!” Ann shrieked.

  We all stared at her. Ann hardly ever talked. Hearing her let out a scream like that was shocking.

  “What’s your impairment?” James asked.

  “You can’t invite a demon to come to you like that!” Ann cried. “It’s not some joke. Don’t you know how dangerous it is? The demon will take over your body, your mind. It will make you do horrible things. And when it finally leaves, you’ll be insane. If your body doesn’t completely give out. Do you want to die?”

  Those were more words than Ann—formerly known as Silent Girl—had spoken the entire time we’d been at Deprivation House.

  “That’s messed up,” Olivia said softly.

  I was hit by what Olivia had said when she first looked at the drawing. Whoever drew that is one messed-up individual.

  I didn’t know if I’d call Ann messed up. But she’d definitely shown that she had some deep feelings the rest of us hadn’t known about. Disturbing feelings. She’d hidden them really well. What else had she been able to hide?

  SUSPECT PROFILE

  Name: Ann Sommerfeld

  Hometown: Plano, Texas

  Physical description: 5’5”, 120 lbs., brown hair, brown eyes.

  Occupation: High school student

  Background: Only child. Parents deceased. Raised by grandmother.

  Suspicious behavior: Hysterical over possibility of demon. Very competitive—rarely speaks, so she won’t give anything away that can be used against her.

  Suspected of: Sabotaging Georgina’s dirt bike. Leaving message in Deprivation Chamber and drawing on the library wall.

  Possible motive: Desperate to win.

  Ann rubbed her face with both hands. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to go off that way. It’s just that what James was doing was so perilous. It really scared me.”

  “Maybe you should sit down,” suggested Frank. “Do you want some water?”

  “No, I’m fine,” Ann answered.

  “Maybe we should go back to the great room,” I said. “We’ve seen what there is to see here.”

  “Yeah.” Frank started for the door—and froze as a long, terrified scream blasted down the hall.

  “It’s the demon!” Ann cried. “It answered the summoning!”

  Ripped Apart

  Brynn! I knew that scream had come from Brynn. I tore out of the library and down to the girls bathroom.

  She stood outside with her back pressed tight against the door. Like she was trying to keep something trapped inside. “Are you okay? What happened?” I exclaimed.

  “What’s in there?” Georgina asked. The rest of the group had reached Brynn only seconds after I did.

  Brynn opened her mouth to answer, then shook her head and simply stepped away from the door. “It’s safe to go in?” I asked.

  She nodded.

  I slowly opened the bathroom door. I sucked in my breath with a hiss when I saw what was inside.

  “What’s in there?” Georgina asked again, her voice louder and higher, more scared.

  James, Joe, and Olivia followed me into the bathroom. “It’s a bloody teddy bear,” Olivia called. “It’s so gross, you guys.”

  The bear had been clawed open. Its stuffing lay all over the floor. One of its eyes was gone.

  Ann pushed her way inside. “The demon did this. They start small sometimes, before they have full power in this world. But that’s what it wants to do. To all of us.”

  “The red stuff is just ketchup,” said Joe. “You think the demon wants to cover us with ketchup?”

  Ann didn’t smile.

  “Whose bear is it, anyway?” I asked.

  “It’s Brynn’s,” Ann answered.

  Olivia’s eyes widened. “Maybe I was right about the girl in the drawing looking like Brynn. Maybe the demon really is coming after her, like in the picture.”

  “Do you really believe in demons?” Joe asked.

  “How can you doubt their existence after seeing this?” Ann swept her arm toward the teddy bear carnage.

  “Humans are capable of doing something like that too,” Joe commented.

  “Don’t tempt a demon to show its power,” Ann warned, then left the room.

  Joe raised his eyebrows at me. Then he gave a half smile. “Maybe somebody should go check on Brynn.”

  “Practically everybody’s out there with her,” said Olivia.

  “I’ll go see how she’s doing,” I said, trying to sound like it was no big deal.

  “You do that,” Joe said, his smile widening.

  You know, while he can be annoying a large percentage of the time, Joe is actually a good brother.

  Brynn hadn’t gotten far. She was sitting next to the bathroom door, leaning against the wall. Everyone else stood around in clusters, talking quietly. It didn’t look like another fight was going to break out tonight.

  “Hey,” I said to her. “You want to maybe go out on the balcony, get some air?” I knew the balcony was one of her favorite places.

  “Air would be good. I think I forgot to keep breathing about half an hour ago,” Brynn answered.

  I reached down and grabbed her hand so I could help pull her to her feet. I got this little jolt. Kind of like a static electricity shock. Except in a good way.

  “Crazy night, huh?” I asked as we started through the house.

  “I really need to talk about something not here,” Brynn answered. “Tell me some random thing about you. Anything.”

  I hesitated. I wanted to answer as Frank Hardy, not Frank Dooley. I wanted to be my real self with Brynn. But there’d always be this huge chunk of stuff I’d have to keep hidden. I couldn’t talk about my actual family or town or school.

  “Come on. Anything. I’m not asking for deep, dark secrets. This isn’t a Veronica torture session,” Brynn said. She opened the glass doors to the balcony, and we stepped out. “You can tell me your favorite flavor of ice cream if you want. I don’t care. As long as you say something completely unrelated to Deprivation House.”

  I didn’t see any reason why Frank Hardy and Frank Dooley couldn’t have the same favorite ice cream, at least. We did share a tongue and taste buds and a stomach. “Vanilla,” I told her.

  “That’s it? Just vanilla?” she asked. “Not Vanilla CocoMocho or Vanilla Nutso?”

  “Just vanilla,” I said. Joe’s the one who likes his ice cream stuffed with candy and nuts and pretzel bits and all that. I’m always telling him there’s no ice cream in his ice cream.

  “I like my ice cream straight up too. Otherwise you can’t really taste it.” She braced her hands on the balcony railing and stared down at the fountain. “I do enjoy the cone, though. I never eat ice cream from a dish if I can help it.”

  “Yeah.” I realized I wasn’t having any talking-to-girls anxiety. Maybe because conversations with Brynn were a little . . . odd. Or maybe because she made me feel like I’d already known her forever.

  “So are you going to reveal your favorite f
lavor?” I asked.

  “Don’t have one,” Brynn answered. “Or maybe I do, but I don’t like to admit it.” She lowered her voice to a whisper. “I think it hurts the other ones’ feelings.” She laughed. “You’re going to think I’m as wackadoo as Ann. I heard all that demon stuff she was saying when she looked at the bear.” Her face turned serious.

  “I thought we were having a no-Deprivation-House conversation,” I said.

  “It creeps in,” Brynn answered. She sighed. “I end up thinking about the house and everything all the time. Like the demon story. I can’t believe a dad would tell his little girl her mother was possessed by a demon.”

  I looked down at the fountain for a moment. They hadn’t turned it off as a deprivation yet. It was lit up at night, and right now the water was glistening under the beams.

  “Maybe he thought it was a way for her to understand her mother’s drinking and drug use,” I finally said. “Not that I think it was a good way. But maybe he was trying to get across the idea that when her mother was on those drugs, she wasn’t the same person.”

  “You think the demon story started before the night of the murder?” Brynn asked.

  I shrugged. “I’m just trying to make sense of it.”

  “So the mom—the actress—had just come back from rehab, but she immediately had a relapse and went after the kid. And the father had to kill her,” Brynn said. “It’s really hideous. Then the girl had to testify and everything. It’s sick the way Veronica talks about it and makes sure it’s all on camera.”

  I nodded. “If she and the producers are behind that drawing and what happened with your bear, it’s even worse.”

  “Taking some family’s tragedy and twisting it into entertainment. It’s disgusting.” Brynn threw her arms out wide. “I hope this is all getting on camera. I hope it makes the cut!” she added loudly.

  “Did you know humans have forty-six chromosomes, peas have fourteen, and crawdads have two hundred?” It was the first thing that came into my head.

  “That’s so cool! Crawdads must be hiding some truly superhuman powers,” Brynn exclaimed. “Thanks for the subject change, Frank. Let’s see if we can last five whole minutes without even thinking of all the creepy stuff in this place.”