Room With a Boo

by Bill Myers

  “And the eyebrows. Look at the eyebrows.”

  “Hmm.” Sean was beginning to see what Melissa was talking about. The man’s eyebrows were especially thick, and they ran in one continuous line.

  “That’s him,” Melissa insisted. “I know it is!” She pointed at the monitor. “Where is this coming from?”

  “The hotel lobby,” Trip said.

  “Let’s follow this guy and find out what he’s up to,” Melissa said.

  “Agreed,” Sean nodded.

  He pulled his X-ray glasses out of his shirt pocket. “I’ll wear these to make sure we don’t lose him.”

  “Oh, Sean,” Melissa complained. “Do you always have to wear those?”

  “Come on!” he said, ignoring her. “Let’s go!”

  TUESDAY, 15:07 EST

  “Well, if he’s a ghost, he’s a pretty boring one,” Sean said. “We’ve been following him all day, and he hasn’t done anything exciting.”

  “So why don’t you take those glasses off,” Melissa said. “You must be getting a headache.”

  At that moment, a woman passing by smiled at Sean, held up two fingers, and said, “Peace, brother.”

  “What did she say that for?” Sean asked.

  “She was just being friendly, I guess.”

  “Far out!” someone else said.

  “Groovy, man, groovy!” another laughed.

  “What’s going on?” Sean asked.

  Melissa gasped. “You’ve got flowers in your hair.”

  “Again? Well, brush them out, will you?”

  “No, not like that! Big flowers!”

  “Then pull them out!”

  Melissa grabbed a couple of the daisies in her brother’s hair and yanked.

  “Ow!” Sean exclaimed. “That hurt!”

  “But I got them,” Melissa said. “See?”

  She handed them to her brother.

  “Uuuhhh!” she inhaled sharply.

  “What?” Sean asked. “What happened?”

  “They just grew back,” Melissa said.

  “Why do these things always happen to me?” Sean moaned. “And besides, I think I’m—AH-AH-AH-allergic! CHOOOOO!”

  “We’ll have to get you some allergy medicine,” Melissa said. “But first, I think you need a hat.” She looked around and saw a sports shop across the street. “Maybe we can find something in there,” she said.

  *

  “What do you think?” Melissa asked.

  Sean had lifted up his glasses to study himself in the mirror. A Washington Redskins cap covered his hair and the flowers in it.

  “Pretty good,” he said. “And if the flowers are covered, I don’t think they’re going to bother me so much.”

  “Hellooo! Is anybody home?” The voice came from Sean’s digital watch.

  Sean looked down and spotted their little buddy. “Jeremiah! What’s up?”

  “You have an f-mail from Doc,” he answered.

  “F-mail?” Melissa asked. “You mean ‘e-mail’?”

  “Whatever. She sent it yesterday.”

  “Yesterday?” Melissa asked. “Why didn’t we get it then?”

  Jeremiah’s face turned from glowing green to glowing red. “I’m afraid I was on the outernet.”

  “Internet,” Sean corrected.

  “Anyway, I had your line chained down.”

  “Tied up?” Melissa asked.

  “Yeah, that,” Jeremiah shrugged. “Anyway, I was studying some history. Did you know that in ancient Egypt, everyone wrote in hydraulics?”

  “Hieroglyph—” Melissa started to correct him.

  But Sean interrupted. “What about that e-mail?”

  “Coming right down!” Jeremiah said.

  He disappeared, and the e-mail popped up on the screen.

  Sean began reading. “So that’s it!” he suddenly shouted. “It’s the X-ray glasses!”

  Melissa grabbed his arm so she could read Doc’s message for herself. “That’s why my petunias grew so big back home!” she exclaimed.

  “And that’s why I’ve got all these flowers in my hair,” Sean groaned.

  “Don’t worry,” Melissa said. “If you stop wearing the glasses, the flowers will die . . . eventually.” Suddenly she put her hand over her mouth to stifle a giggle. “I just thought of something,” she laughed.

  “What’s that?” Sean asked.

  “That guy we’ve been following and who you’ve been looking at all these hours, he’s bound to wake up in the morning . . .”

  “ . . . with flowers in his hair, too!” Sean laughed.

  Melissa continued to giggle. “Well, it’s good to know you’re not alone in this!”

  TUESDAY, 15:42 EST

  BRRRR!BRRRR!

  “Bloodhounds, Incorporated,” Sean said as he answered his cell phone. “Oh hi, Trip. What’s up?”

  Trip answered, “I just got a call from General Accounting. There’s been another break-in. And . . .”

  “Yes?”

  “Whoever it was left flowers all over the place.”

  “Flowers?” Sean asked.

  “Yeah,” Trip said, “flowers. Can you come over here and keep an eye on things while I check it out?” “We’ll be right there!” Sean said.

  TUESDAY, 16:07 EST

  When they arrived, Trip was pacing back and forth, wearing another one of his “spectacular” disguises. This one included a beard and a black top hat. (Melissa didn’t want to say anything, but she thought he looked an awful lot like Abraham Lincoln.)

  “Thanks for coming so fast,” Trip said. “Just keep an eye on these monitors, and . . .oh, I almost forgot.” He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out what appeared to be a tiny garage-door opener. “If either one of you gets in trouble, push this button. It will let me know exactly where you are, and I’ll come right away.”

  Sean and Melissa exchanged meaningful glances.

  “I know what you’re thinking,” Trip said. “But I guarantee you. This will work.”

  TUESDAY, 18:14 EST

  Nearly two hours passed, and Sean was getting frustrated. “We should be doing something,” he complained.

  “Like what?” Melissa asked.

  “I don’t know. Anything!”

  “Look!” Melissa pointed at one of the monitors.

  The ghostly looking soldier strode past. He didn’t realize that a garden of flowers was growing in his hair, leaving a trail of petals behind him as he “drifted” down the hall.

  “Let’s go!” Sean cried.

  “Where?”

  “After him!” Sean exclaimed. “He’s leaving the perfect trail.”

  “Maybe we ought to wait until Trip gets back,” Melissa said.

  “No way!” Sean argued. “We’ll follow the trail of flower petals, find out what room he’s in, and lead the authorities right to him.”

  “I don’t know. . .” Melissa hesitated.

  But if there was one thing Sean was good at, it was nagging. And, like it or not, ten minutes later, they were back in the hotel hallway. Slobs led the way as Sean and Melissa followed the flower petals all the way to the door of . . . room 570.

  “I knew it!” Sean whispered. “I told you something was going on in there!”

  “Listen,” Melissa whispered.

  They leaned toward the door and heard all sorts of moaning, groaning, and ghostly noises floating from the room.

  Once again, Sean pulled his X-ray glasses out of his pocket.

  “Sean, do you really think you should be doing that?” Melissa asked.

  “One last time,” he promised as he slipped them on. “After that I’ll . . . whoa!”

  “What do you see?” Melissa asked.

  “Nothing,” he frowned. “It’s empty. Just like before.”

  He took out his Swiss Army knife.

  “You’re not going to pick the lock, are you?” asked Melissa. “You could get us in a lot of trouble.”

  Sean sighed. “I’m doing it for our
country, Misty.”

  Melissa glanced about nervously as he continued to work.

  “These old locks ought to be easy to—”

  CLICK!

  “There!” he said as he pushed open the door.

  Cautiously, the young detectives tiptoed into the room.

  It was empty, just as Sean said. Except for one thing . . . A tiny speaker sat on the table. A tiny speaker that was giving off all the ghostly noises.

  “What’s that about?” Sean asked.

  Melissa shook her head as she reached over and picked it up. “I don’t know, but here’s our ghost.”

  Meanwhile, Slobs was whining and scratching at the closet door.

  “What is it, girl?” Sean whispered. He crept toward the door. Once he arrived, he carefully grabbed the doorknob and yanked it open to reveal . . .

  Nothing.

  “It’s just a closet,” Sean complained.

  “GRRRR! GRRRR!”

  “Slobs doesn’t think so,” Melissa said.

  Sean nodded and stepped inside to investigate. He pushed against the back wall, trying to find something, anything that was unusual. But once again, he came up empty.

  “Maybe if we turned the light on, we could get a better look. Here,” Melissa said as she flipped the switch to turn on the closet light.

  But it wasn’t the closet light!

  Instead, the back wall of the closet suddenly slid up. Before them stood a dark, narrow stairway that led straight up.

  “Well, will you look at that,” Sean said.

  “Where does it go?” Melissa asked.

  “There’s only one way to find out.”

  As if agreeing, Slobs let out a bark and ran up the stairs until she completely disappeared.

  “Well,” Sean said nervously, “what are we waiting for?”

  Melissa swallowed. “I can think of a few things.”

  “Come on,” he said. “Let’s go!”

  10

  your average

  garden-variety spies

  TUESDAY, 18:32 EST

  There was light up above. Sean and Melissa could hear voices. They climbed higher and higher until they realized they were approaching the roof. They arrived and carefully stepped up from the stairway and onto the tar and gravel surface.

  The voices were much louder.

  They tiptoed around the corner and saw not one, not two, but three men in Civil War uniforms. They stood in front of a large machine that was covered with a tarp.

  “I bet that’s the Dragonfly,” Sean whispered.

  “The what?” Melissa asked.

  “That helicopter the spies stole.”

  “You mean—”

  “Shh . . .” Sean whispered. “Listen.”

  “So then it is agreed,” the oldest of the three men said. He appeared to be the leader. “We will leave the country tonight.”

  “Yes, Gregor!” the man next to him said. “With many secrets to help our homeland bring these American dogs to their knees!”

  “It was a brilliant idea, Sergei, to use that old legend about ghosts as our cover,” Gregor said. “Again, we will meet here on the hotel roof in four hours’ time. Then we will fly away.”

  “GRRRRR! GRRRRR!”

  Melissa grabbed Slobs and tried to quiet her.

  Gregor laughed and poked Sergei in the stomach. “My dear friend, I hear your stomach growling. You have been eating too much American food.”

  “It was not my stomach,” Sergei protested.

  Gregor turned to the other man and asked, “Was it yours?”

  The other man shook his head.

  “We’d better get out of here,” Sean whispered. He turned to go.

  They headed back to the stairway and almost made it through the doorway, except for the part of Sean bumping into it. No problem, except for the part where it knocked off his Washington Redskins cap and allowed all those wonderful petals in his hair to fall into his face. Even that wouldn’t have been a problem, except for his allergies.

  “AH . . . AH . . . AH . . .”

  He did his best to fight it, but. . .

  “ . . . CHoooooo!”

  . . . his best wasn’t good enough.

  “Someone’s at the stairs!” Gregor shouted. “Get them!”

  “Run!” Sean shouted. “Run!”

  Good idea. Unfortunately, Sean’s version of running involved tripping over his Redskins cap and crashing into Melissa. Again, no problem, except for the part where they both wound up in a tangle on the stairway.

  And before they could get to their feet . . . the spies had them!

  Sean shoved his hand into his pants pocket and frantically fumbled. Where was that emergency thing with the button Trip had given him?

  Gregor’s strong hands closed on his shoulders and lifted him to his feet. “My boy,” he said. “You are in very much trouble.”

  Ah . . . there it was! Now, if he could just get his finger on the button . . .

  *

  When Trip came out of the Congressional Office Building, he was shocked to find Mrs. Tubbs waiting near his car.

  “Oooo, I like your costume,” she cooed, referring to his Abraham Lincoln disguise. “You look so . . . presidential!”

  “Mrs. Tibbs,” he said. “What are you doing here?”

  “Tubbs,” she corrected him. “I just happened to be in the neighborhood and—”

  “You just happened to—”

  “Okay, I followed you,” she confessed. “Is that so bad? I just thought maybe we could have a nice dinner together, and perhaps take in a movie, or . . .”

  EEEEEEE!

  She stopped in mid-sentence. “What is that horrible sound!”

  Trip reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out something that looked like a handheld calculator. Whatever it was, it was giving off a high-pitched, screeching sound.

  “It’s them!” he said.

  “Them, who?”

  “We’ve got to go, Mrs. Tipps. They’re on the roof!”

  “It’s Tubbs!” she said. “And what roof?”

  “I’ll explain on the way! But we don’t have time to drive. We’ll have to fly!”

  “Fly?” Mrs. Tubbs took a step backward. “You’re crazy, aren’t you?” she asked. “I knew it! I knew it! Every time I meet a nice man, it turns out that he’s completely nuts!”

  “I’m not crazy, Mrs. Ticks, but we have to go. NOW!”

  *

  “There, that will hold them,” said Gregor. He and the other two spies stepped back and looked at their handiwork.

  Sean and Melissa sat on the roof, back-to-back, tied and gagged. Slobs was tied to a nearby railing.

  “What now?” Sergei asked.

  Gregor shrugged. “Now we must leave.”

  “So soon?”

  “If the children have found us, others will soon follow,” Gregor said. “We must leave at once.”

  Sergei turned and looked at the kids. “And them?”

  “They stay here,” Gregor said. “It may be days before anyone finds them . . . if ever.” Then, turning to them, he said, “Good luck, children.”

  Working together, the spies pulled the tarp off the machine. Both Sean’s and Melissa’s eyes widened. It was the Dragonfly, the helicopter that had been stolen. They watched helplessly as the men climbed on board the craft and started up the engine.

  It puttered and sputtered until it roared to life. Louder and louder it grew until the engine was screaming. And then, ever so slowly, the helicopter lifted off the roof and into the air. It looked like they were going to make a clean getaway until . . .

  Suddenly another, much smaller, helicopter appeared over the roof of the building. It immediately moved into position, blocking the Dragonfly’s escape.

  “Lud Ibn Trib!” Sean said. (At least that’s what it sounded like with the gag in his mouth). Translation: “Look! It’s Trip!”

  He was right! It was Trip! And there was Mrs. Tubbs sitting beside him, green from airsi
ckness!

  CLANG!

  The two helicopters banged against each other.

  Not only was the Dragonfly bigger, but it was a lot faster and tougher. If this was going to be an air battle, there was absolutely no way Trip could win.

  Then suddenly, to Sean’s surprise, Melissa jumped to her feet! Somehow she had gotten free! She ripped the gag out of her brother’s mouth and began cutting at the ropes with . . . her ring! The U.S.A. ring their father had given her!

  “Some of these rhinestones are pretty sharp,5’ she said as the ropes finally gave way.

  “Have I ever told you how much I love that ring?” Sean asked as he scrambled to his feet.

  “Me too!” Melissa grinned as she raced to untie Slobs.

  Meanwhile, the Dragonfly was forced to hover just a few feet above the roof. Every time the pilot made an attempt to fly away, Trip’s helicopter blocked him.

  Unsure what to do, but knowing he had to do something, Sean ran toward the Dragonfly. Then, with a yell, “Augh!” he jumped up, grabbed the cockpit door, and tried to climb inside. The pilot kicked at him, but Sean hung on.

  At the same time, Trip was preparing to jump from his helicopter onto the other side of the Dragonfly.

  “Don’t leave me!” Mrs. Tubbs cried, shouting over the noise of the whirling rotors.

  “Just hold the throttle like this!” Trip said. “That will keep her steady. I’ll be right back!”

  Before Mrs. Tubbs could protest, he jumped for the Dragonfly. It was close, but he made it! As he climbed inside he pulled a can of tear gas out of his pocket.

  “Don’t make me use this!” he shouted.

  “Get him!’’ Gregor shouted.

  As Gregor’s men moved toward him, Trip sprayed the tear gas directly . . .

  “OW! COUGH! HACK!”

  . . . into his own face!

  He dropped the tear-gas canister to the floor, and everyone scrambled for it.

  Unfortunately, it was about this time that the frightened Mrs. Tubbs jerked the throttle, causing her helicopter to shoot forward and . . .