Walls within Walls

by Maureen Sherry

  “I was just so angry about the arrangement,” Julian said. “Most children just want to be with their own family. No matter what.”

  “Well, it seems your parents tried to do their best for you,” Anne Smithfork said. “Sometimes we parents do things we think are best for our children, but we can never be sure. No choice you have to make for another human being is ever easy.”

  Brid spoke up. “Like moving?”

  “Yes,” said Anne. “Like moving to a new home.”

  “Or a different job?” CJ asked.

  “Yes,” Anne said. “If you think that more money will provide more things for your family and make everyone’s life better, you take the different job.”

  “Like Dad did,” Pat said.

  “Like we all did when we moved,” Anne said.

  “So are you finding it to be more to your liking?” Lukas asked politely. “Living here?”

  The room went silent again. Glances were exchanged, but nobody said a word, and then a small whirring noise interrupted their thoughts—the noise of the approaching elevator. CJ was about to say yes; he just couldn’t get the word out quickly enough. He was glad they were living there. And right then, the front door burst open and Mr. Smithfork yelled, “I’m home, two days early! Anything happen while I was gone?”

  CHAPTER 42

  In the tumble of hugs that followed, CJ got a wonderful gift from his father. Bruce Smithfork looked directly at him and winked. In that shared moment, CJ knew they wouldn’t be in terrible trouble. His dad’s punishments were more severe than his mom’s, but only after repeat offenses. CJ had gotten the clear message never to skip school again, and he knew he wouldn’t.

  Joe Torrio introduced himself as Julian Post—and of course Bruce Smithfork didn’t know of the surprise he had just missed. Anne placed a mound of curry in front of him on one of the historic plates.

  “Nice dishes,” Bruce said. “New?”

  “Very nice,” Lily Williamson agreed. “And quite old.”

  “So, start at the beginning,” Bruce said as he shook out his napkin and spread it on his lap. “Tell me everything I’ve missed while I was gone.” He mussed Carron’s hair and looked so happy to be home, while the children’s mom stared proudly at him.

  As the candles burned low in their holders and Carron nodded off in her high chair, Brid, CJ, and Patrick told everyone at the table about the mystery behind the walls, starting with the day they moved in. At last, Brid turned to face Julian.

  “I have two questions for you,” she said. “How did you know there was a package waiting at the library?”

  Julian looked abashed. “My mother was a library donor,” he said. “She mentioned that such a thing existed, but she didn’t know what it was, and I never could get them to give it to me.”

  Brid remembered the librarian who was such a stickler for the rules that she’d charged them $76.28 for returning a library book that had been checked out so long ago. “Julian, what did you do before you moved in here? I mean, after you were grown up and everything.”

  Addressed by his real name, Julian smiled. “Well, I was in college, and then in the army, in Korea. Then I traveled for a long time. I was still pretty angry about being taken away from my family. It took me many long years to decide to move back here and look for the treasure myself. I did a lot of reading, and I wrote, too, mostly poetry.”

  Brid smiled back. “Maybe I’ll read some of it. I think I might like poetry, now.” She caught CJ’s eye. “A little.”

  When Eloise excused herself to go to the powder room, CJ stood, too, and carried some of the dishes into the kitchen. He had an idea he wanted to speak to her about in private. Brid also rose from the table and followed CJ, her notebook in hand.

  “Are you feeling okay?” Brid asked Eloise when she came out of the powder room.

  “Once I’ve caught my breath? Why, yes, children. A whole new chapter of my life is about to begin, and it’s a bit mind-boggling,” she said, shaking her head.

  Without a word, Brid opened her book and presented a drawing to CJ and Eloise. It was a sketch of the building’s roofline. Eloise looked at the children with wonder.

  “So how early in the morning do we head out to get the treasure?” Eloise said with a wry smile.

  “You knew it, too!” CJ exclaimed.

  “The treasure is not a painting,” Eloise said. “The minute I saw that water tower, I just knew. It’s the eighth poem, really. And my father must have written that one himself.” She recited slowly,

  “Seven clues on seven structures

  Get water from above to rupture.

  Push the symbols in their order

  To get the flow of golden water.”

  Brid said, “So we found the structures, we found their symbols, we pushed them and got the painting, and the painting gave us a visual image of where the treasure is.”

  “Plus we have this,” CJ said, holding up the key that had been attached to the newest package.

  “Do we have to wait until morning?” Brid said.

  “Honey, it’s dark and snowy out there. It’s too dangerous, and we’re too tired,” Eloise said, in her caretaker voice.

  “Who’s too tired?” CJ said. “I’ve been sleeping all day. Besides, in daylight, someone will see us from another building and probably call the police.”

  “Tomorrow,” Eloise said, but this time there was a slight hesitation in her voice. “And my brother gets to come, too.”

  “Tonight in two hours,” said Brid, so matter-of-factly that both CJ and Eloise raised their eyebrows. “And of course your brother has to come,” she added.

  Over the next two hours, the kitchen got cleaned, the guests left, and Mr. and Mrs. Smithfork turned in early. Carron was asleep, and Patrick was in his pajamas, playing with his plastic wrestling figures, when CJ and Brid came into his room. “Patrick, it’s time. Put on warm winter clothes,” said CJ.

  Pat never asked where they were going. He dropped his wrestlers on the floor, and put on his jacket, snow pants, and boots, as if he were called to bravery every day.

  CJ carried a lumpy duffel bag with some tools in it. Brid added a blanket and some other items, noticing CJ’s snorkeling mask as she did so. She didn’t even ask why he had it with him. CJ opened the door that led to the fire stairs, and silently the three children walked upstairs, single file, to the emergency door that led to the roof.

  They paused there, listening to the wind. In a minute, they heard the sound they had been waiting for, the sound of Eloise’s back door opening and closing, and her slow, purposeful footsteps. They could also hear Julian’s heavier tread. Eloise let out a little laugh when she saw the three Smithforks and their lumpy bag. “I guess this is it,” she said.

  “If it isn’t,” Brid said, “I’m out of ideas and pages in my notebook.”

  CJ pushed open the door, knowing it wasn’t alarmed, knowing that this building relied on old-fashioned, human methods for security. And that was exactly what they needed tonight.

  The rooftops of Manhattan stood before them like a misshapen army. The moon was bulging and full, providing them with more light than they had expected. Several rooftops had floodlights on them, creating an eerie backdrop.

  Just as in the painting, their particular water tower was enormous, taking up one quarter of the rooftop. The area under the tower was free from snow. Remaining drifts of snow piled up around it, outlining the tower and creating shelter from nosy city eyes. Brid dragged CJ’s bag to the side of the tower and sat comfortably in the snow. Patrick dropped to the ground, scooping and shaping snow until he had a chair. He gestured to Eloise to sit down. Julian began to make his own chair, sweeping the snow aside with enthusiasm.

  CJ walked around the tower with his flashlight, looking for an obvious entry point.

  The tower reminded Brid of a silo, only wider and more golden. The long wooden ladder was nailed into place, leading to the top, probably seventy-five feet into the air.

&nbs
p; “So does this just catch the rain and then send it down our pipes to our apartment?” Patrick asked.

  “No,” CJ said, “we have municipal water, city water that comes into big tanks in the basement. But in the nineteen twenties, when buildings started to be built over five stories tall, they had to figure out a way to get water to higher levels. These buildings have a pump that sends water to the roof tank, and then gravity lets it go back down again, into everyone’s pipes, giving them just the right amount of water pressure when they need it.”

  “But Mom always complains about how the pressure is so weak in our apartment,” Patrick said.

  “It’s not just your apartment,” Eloise said. “It’s all the apartments in this building. The water flow is quite dismal.”

  “Has it always been that way?” CJ asked.

  “I can’t remember,” Eloise said. “I don’t believe anyone has ever looked into it.”

  “Interesting. I wonder what is stopping the flow of water from that tank,” CJ said with a grin. Holding a flashlight, he began to climb the ladder, silhouetted by the night sky. Eloise resisted the urge to tell him it was too dangerous, thinking the drifts of snow would give him a soft landing should he fall. And she was just too curious to forbid him to continue.

  CJ stood at the top of the water tower, where a big funnel-shaped hole let him look inside. The funnel top was held on by little latches and easily moved aside.

  “Do you need the stuff?” Brid asked.

  “What stuff?” Patrick asked.

  “Yup,” CJ said, “I need it.” He came back down and unzipped the duffel bag. “I can see a panel under the water about halfway down the inside. If I could just get to it—,” he said, pulling the snorkel out of the bag. Eloise gasped.

  “There is no way you are going into that tank, young man. You will kill yourself. Julian, talk some sense into this child! He is not going into that water tower!”

  CJ was already taking off his jacket and snow boots and putting on water shoes. Under his jeans and shirt, he was wearing swimming trunks. “You better put on your wet suit,” Brid suggested.

  “I want to go in, too,” Pat said.

  “No way,” CJ said as he adjusted his mask. “But you can stand at the top and repeat what I say to Brid and Eloise and Julian. It’s really just a wooden tub with a giant ladder inside and outside. I can easily climb out. Brid, you hold on to this key.”

  Patrick looked very proud. He pulled his ski hat closer around his eyes. “Let’s do it,” he said.

  “Wait, CJ,” Julian interrupted. “Eloise is right. I’m sure you are a terrific swimmer, but this is just too risky. I’ll bet there is some outside access to that panel. Maybe you could point out the area, and Brid and I can try and find the spot on the outside. My guess is that under these wooden shingles, there is a way to access the panel.”

  “Okay, but I still have to go in to find the panel spot,” said CJ. “I promise I won’t let go of the inside ladder. The water is warm. The water tank is insulated so it won’t freeze. I have this metal piece of pipe,” he said, pulling something else out of his bag. “I’ll bang the inside of the tank in the right spot. You find that spot on the outside. It’s not dangerous at all!” And maybe because they were too curious, both Julian and Eloise stopped protesting.

  CJ and Patrick clambered to the top of the ladder. CJ sat at the top, looking at the sparkling city lights and the moon hanging low like a ripe orange, ready to be picked. Squatting, he turned on his headlamp. He waved one last time and disappeared over the edge and into the black water as Pat turned around and gave them a thumbs-up. Brid wondered if CJ had showered that evening before he climbed into everyone’s drinking water.

  Suddenly, the roof door opened, and Carlos, the night elevator man, shone a flashlight directly at them. “Youse got business out here?” he said.

  “As a matter of fact, we do,” Julian said, not missing a beat. “This young lady doesn’t even know how to make a snow chair,” he said, nodding toward Eloise. He pointed to the remains of Patrick’s chair. “It’s such a beautiful night to try making one.”

  Carlos stood silently for a few seconds. Brid glanced up at Patrick, standing frozen in place on the ladder. He didn’t move a muscle and Carlos, thankfully, never looked skyward. He shrugged. “Sorry I didn’t see you there, Mr. Torrio,” he said, while looking quizzically over his shoulder as he left, letting the door close behind him.

  Patrick immediately said, “Guys! CJ wants you to go to the far side of the tank, and he wants you to listen for the sound of his metal pipe clinking on the inside.”

  “Okay,” Brid said as she and Julian were already moving to the far side of the water tower. They could hear a faint pinging sound, but it was above their heads, probably about twelve feet off the ground. Without hesitation, Brid began piling snow to make a mound, piling it higher and higher, until she could stand just opposite the pinging noise that came from within. “Quick, Eloise, grab that file from the duffel bag,” she yelled.

  Eloise quickly pulled out a thin metal file and handed it up to Brid, marveling at the fact that the children had thought to bring tools. Deftly, Brid slid the file under a wooden shingle and popped it off. She inhaled. “Whoa…that was easy.”

  Before her was an unmistakable, old-fashioned keyhole.

  CHAPTER 43

  CJ was so excited when he made it back down the ladder, he simply put his jacket and boots back on over his swim trunks. He didn’t feel cold at all.

  Patrick carved little steps on the enormous snow mound, making it easier to get up to the level of the keyhole. When everything was set, Brid handed Eloise the key. “It’s time,” she said. “It’s finally time.”

  Eloise turned to Julian, “I think you should open it. You deserve to.”

  “No,” said Julian, “we’re all in this together. You go ahead.”

  Eloise nodded, and carefully climbed the snow steps. Reaching the top, she removed the glove from her right hand and pulled the key from her pocket. She paused. What if this wasn’t it? What if it just led to more clues, more poems, or, worse, to nothing?

  With robotic stiffness, she jiggled the key into place. She turned it and heard a click. She twisted around to see four pairs of anxious eyes on the ground below her, watching her every move.

  “It clicked,” she whispered, and she turned back to the lock. She savored that moment when she felt so very, very hopeful, one last time.

  Eloise could see that other beveled shingles on the water tower blocked the large door hidden behind the shingles, but when she tugged on the door, those shingles easily peeled away and fell like confetti to the snow below. The door groaned and opened. She peered inside, but had no direct light. She said nothing, and then inexplicably, Eloise turned and carefully made her way back down the snow steps. When she reached the bottom, she looked at each child and finally at Julian.

  “It’s in there,” she said. “All this time, it was right where my brother and I lived. Where our family lived.”

  “Can we see it?” Pat said, jumping up and down.

  “Let’s start unloading it!” Brid said, not being able to contain herself any longer. “Treasures go in the bag!” she yelled.

  “I think we should step inside. We should visit it, instead of unloading it, at least for tonight,” Eloise said. “We need to show it a little respect.” With that, she climbed back up and entered the secret treasure room inside the tank, the room left alone for seventy years, the room that took up one-quarter of the entire tank’s space, causing the 1000-gallon water tank at 2 East 92nd Street to have 750 gallons of water and very low pressure for many years. The treasure room had been there, above them, the whole time.

  One by one, they clambered into the secret room, lined with gold-colored tiles that glowed magnificently in the light reflected from CJ’s headlamp. The children and Eloise and Julian were surrounded by cases and cases of black lacquered boxes. Brid opened one and gasped at the golf ball–sized emerald earring
s, trimmed in diamonds. Eloise helped her adjust them onto her earlobes, where they shook light on the walls as Brid moved her head. “I believe Marie Antoinette wore those, my dear. Though I’m certain they are far more fetching on you!” Eloise joked.

  CJ was poring over an ancient map encased in a gold frame. Rubies dotted the entire outline of the frame. Patrick was letting a mound of golden coins flow through his hands. “Do you think I could get dollars for these from that machine at the grocery store that turns your change into bills?” he asked.

  Every time somebody opened a box, more dazzling pieces were revealed. Figurines, Russian dolls, and fragile, decorated eggs were uncovered. There were weapons and bejeweled daggers and bowls and an enormous emerald ring; there was a tiara that weighed as much as a brick. Julian placed it gently on Eloise’s head. “I believe this belonged to Catherine the Great.” Something about the room made them speak in hushed tones. The place was so large they could stand upright, or sit cozily on top of some of the bigger boxes. And that is what they did, for a long time.

  “Do you notice the shape of the ceiling?” Eloise asked.

  “It’s a vault, isn’t it?” said CJ. “It’s rounded, no right angles anywhere.”

  “Did Guastavino build this little vault, too?” Patrick said, fingering a golden dagger that Eloise said she thought was from ancient Rome.

  “I bet either he or his son did,” Eloise whispered. “I have a feeling this was perhaps the last construction piece the Guastavinos built here in New York City.”

  “Yes, our father sure was a fan of Guastavino’s work,” Julian said.

  “He was a fan of beauty and of space that couldn’t burn—places that would last forever.”

  “Like his love for you,” Brid said, reading an inscription on the wall.

  “What?”

  Brid read slowly as she kept the floodlight pointed on the wall:

  “Here were the travelers L and M