Mystery in the Mansion

by Lauren Magaziner

  “You’re quiet. That’s not like you, Carlos.”

  “Sorry.” I try to shake all my worries away. Then, in a strangely cheerful voice, I say, “Let’s talk about the clues.”

  In our half-hour walk, we discuss all the suspects, one by one.

  PATTY AND MADDOCK: Are having an affair, could be working together, and have made some sort of plan for today. Have clear means and motive.

  IVY: Has been in a big fight with her mom and seems to (suspiciously, maybe?) put the blame on a lot of other people. Has clear motive but unclear means (since she lives in Wichita).

  OTTO: Has access to flowers (third death threat?), always suggests to us that we go home, and is kind of nosy. Has clear means but unclear motive.

  SMYTHE: Is extraordinarily miserable for some reason, seems sulky and angry, and won’t answer any of our questions or help us out in any way. Has clear means but unclear motive.

  GUINEVERE LECAVALIER: Maybe faked the threats for attention? Unclear means, unclear motive. This is a very long shot, especially considering her reaction to the death threat yesterday.

  So . . . we still have more investigating to do. And only half a day to do it. If we can’t figure it out by noon, though, Eliza’s going to call the police for backup. Just in case.

  When we finally get to River Woods, everything is quiet and still. None of the neighbors are out and about. Otto isn’t mowing the lawn, and Patty isn’t peeking out from her blinds. But her car is parked in her driveway. I scan her windows, and I see her and Maddock KISSING. In front of a window! Are they trying to make their neighbors barf? Ugh!

  “Should we check in with Guinevere?” Eliza asks.

  I shake my head no. “We don’t have time! We have to figure out what Patty’s planning and stop her! And that involves going straight to Patty’s house.”

  “But,” Eliza says, “maybe they’ll be expecting us at Guinevere’s house. I think it’s the responsible thing to do.”

  * * *

  TO CHECK IN WITH GUINEVERE, CLICK HERE.

  TO GO STRAIGHT TO PATTY’S HOUSE TO START SNOOPING, CLICK HERE.

  * * *

  “CAN YOU TELL us more about your husband’s treasure?”

  Guinevere smiles. “Ahhhh! My husband was . . . eccentric. He was an engineer whose passion was logic and mathematics. One night, he told me that he had buried a treasure beneath the house, but only the worthy would be able to find it.”

  “What does that mean?” I ask.

  “My husband set up a treasure hunt with clues and puzzles. Only to be solved by someone smart, like him.”

  Eliza squeals and claps her hands together. And I can’t help but grin at her. There’s no one smarter than Eliza. I bet she would love to solve Mr. LeCavalier’s puzzles.

  “Did your husband want you to find the treasure, Mrs. LeCavalier?” Eliza asks.

  “Me?” Guinevere laughs so hard she spills her tea over her shoulder. “Heavens no! He didn’t marry me for my brains, my dear! He married me for my looks!” She fluffs up her hair and bats her eyelashes.

  “Ewwwwww!” Frank says out loud, and I kick him under the table.

  “So, who’s the treasure hunt for?” Eliza says, trying to draw attention away from Frank.

  “Our Ivy is very smart. I’m sure he meant for her to find it.”

  “Your what?” I say.

  “Ivy is our daughter. She’s very intelligent.”

  “Oh, right. The one in . . .”

  “Wichita. With her . . . husband.” Guinevere frowns. “But she arrives tomorrow. Perhaps you’d like to meet her?”

  “Absolutely,” Eliza says.

  * * *

  TO ASK GUINEVERE ABOUT HER RELATIONSHIP WITH HER DAUGHTER, CLICK HERE.

  TO ASK GUINEVERE WHO MIGHT BE SENDING THE THREATS, CLICK HERE.

  * * *

  “I’LL TAKE THE garage and basement.”

  I zoom down the hall filled with the portraits of Patty and her dogs. I open every door I can find, looking for a staircase that leads down to the basement, but I find a closet, a dining room, and a dark sitting room.

  At last I open a door to discover a creaky staircase leading down to an unfinished basement.

  “CREEPY,” Frank says over my shoulder.

  I gulp. “Go play with the dogs, Frank.”

  But he shakes his head. “This looks like a job for SUPERFRANK!”

  He leans forward to flick on a light, and I swear—I swear—I hear a bunch of spiders scuttling under old boxes.

  I tiptoe downstairs and start opening boxes. They’re full of dog stuff. Dog beds, dog brushes, dog toys, dog this, dog that, dog dog dog. Every new box I open makes the basement smell worse.

  There are no new clues, so I head to the garage.

  The whole garage is covered in cobwebs. It’s like no one’s cleaned the garage in a hundred years. I peek inside some storage cabinets against the wall. Boring. Just stores of toilet paper, paper towels, red paint, trash bags—

  I pause. Something about red paint jogs my memory . . . and that’s when I remember the second death threat. Someone painted that terrifying message on Guinevere’s library wall. But what color was it?

  I dig into my pocket and pull out the photo of the destroyed library. Just like I thought—the threat is written in ruby-red paint.

  And here in Patty’s garage?

  Five cans of ruby-red paint.

  I gasp and run into the house—I need to tell Eliza what I’ve found!

  “Eliza!” I shout. “Eliza? Where are you?”

  Frank tackles me around my middle. “Got your nose!” he shouts, even though his arms are nowhere near my nose.

  “Not now, Frank! This is important! Eliza? Eliza!”

  “I’m in the bedroom!” she calls. “And I think I found something!”

  Frank and I bound up the stairs and wander through the narrow hallways, searching for the bedroom.

  “Eliza?”

  “Carlos!” she says, her voice carrying from two rooms down. When I run into the room, Eliza’s sitting cross-legged on the velvety carpet, and she looks tiny next to the enormous king-sized canopy bed. The whole bedroom is gigantic and looks fit for royalty. I can’t believe Patty sleeps in a room the size of my whole house.

  I plop down next to Eliza, who puts a small lockbox in my lap.

  “Are you okay, Carlos?”

  “Fine,” I respond, a bit too irritably.

  Eliza winces. “I thought you’d be happy. I found this in Patty Schnozzleton’s bedside drawer.”

  “I am happy,” I lie. “I’m fine. Sorry.”

  “What is it?” Frank says. “A MILLION BUCKS?”

  Eliza shakes her head. “I haven’t opened it. It has one of those locks that requires a word to open it.”

  “A word?” Frank cries. “But there are a million gazillion words in the galaxy! We’ll be here FOREVERRRRRRR.”

  Eliza grins like she’s been waiting for one of us to say that. “Not forever. I found a sticky note under the lockbox. Take a look,” she says, holding out the Post-it to me.

  Patty, you forgetful goddess of a woman—

  I look up and roll my eyes. “‘Goddess of a woman’?” I say, trying not to barf.

  “Keep reading!”

  Here’s a reminder of your password.

  1. FLASH 2. BUTTER 3. PORK STAR

  SPEED FIRE STICK

  STAR TRAP KARATE

  Remember the words that are related to each of these.

  I look at Eliza. “Huh?”

  She smiles. “They’re word associations. All three of these words are connected to another word . . . the same word. For example, if I said . . . um . . . bag, stand, and before, all of those words can be connected to the word hand. Because you have handbag, handstand, and beforehand. Make sense?”

  “So with the first one,” I say, looking back at the Post-it. “I guess it could be flashdance. Or flashback. Or flashlight. Or flashflood. Or photoflash.”

  “Now
all we have to do is see if dance, back, light, flood, or photo can be combined with the front or end of the other words in the set. Whichever word works for all three is the first part of the password.”

  I stare back at the Post-it and get to work figuring it out.

  * * *

  TO ENTER THE PASSWORD LIGHT BALL SLICE, CLICK HERE.

  TO ENTER THE PASSWORD LIGHT FLY CHOP, CLICK HERE.

  * * *

  THIS ST. IVES riddle is way too hard. I need more brainpower . . . Eliza’s brainpower.

  “Elizaaaaaaaaa!”

  “Yes?” she shouts back.

  “Riddle! Heeellllpppp!”

  There’s a pause. Then her voice echoes, “Pick up the phone!”

  I wander around the office and find Patty Schnozzleton’s landline. When I press the on button, I hear Eliza say, “Carlos?”

  “Here!”

  “We should invest in walkie-talkies,” Eliza says.

  That is a supercool idea, if only because walkie-talkies are fun. But every penny we make from this case is going straight into my mom’s pocket. Of course . . . to solve the case, I have to solve this puzzle first, so I read it aloud to Eliza:

  “As I was going to visit St. Ives,

  I passed by seven different wives.

  Each wife had seven sacks,

  Each sack had seven cats,

  Each cat had seven kittens.

  Kittens, cats, sacks, wives,

  How many were going to visit St. Ives?”

  When I finish, Eliza is giggling. No, more than giggling—she’s full-on cracking up.

  “What’s so funny?”

  “You’ve never heard of St. Ives before? It’s an old nursery rhyme.”

  I don’t say anything because my throat gets all lumpy. I don’t have a lot of books at home—it’s kind of a luxury we can’t afford.

  Eliza plows on like I didn’t just go all silent on her. “Listen, Carlos. It’s a classic riddle trick—they give you the answer right away, and all that stuff in the middle is supposed to distract you. And besides, the riddle says you’re passing by all these things, not that they’re coming with you to St. Ives.”

  “If they’re not coming to St. Ives, then . . . then it’s just me going?”

  “Precisely,” Eliza says. “Only one person is visiting St. Ives, and it’s you!”

  “Thanks, Eliza!” I say, hanging up the phone. Time to punch in the answer to this puzzle.

  * * *

  ADD THREE HUNDRED TO THE ANSWER OF THE PUZZLE.

  IF YOU THINK THE ANSWER IS 301, CLICK HERE.

  IF YOU THINK THE ANSWER IS 328, CLICK HERE.

  * * *

  AS SOON AS we shout “TEN,” the rectangles on the floor start to rumble. Then they split apart, twisting into a spiral staircase that leads down even farther! I feel like we’re so deep underground that we’re going to run into the earth’s core at some point.

  “Spinny stairs, yay!” Frank squeals.

  I go first, then Frank, and Eliza last. As soon as we take a few steps down, we all marvel. This new room has glowing lights on the ceiling . . . like the sticker stars Eliza has in her outer-space-themed bedroom. But what’s below the lights is what’s really amazing. Or should I say: a-maze-ing.

  A huge maze. With walls of tall stone. It looks never-ending. There seem to be three exits, but our staircase is dropping us right into the heart of the maze, far from all of them.

  When we touch ground, we’re in an area with stone statues of unicorns. And there’s a map taped to one of the walls.

  “We’re in the center,” I say.

  “I wanna run in the maze,” Frank whines.

  “Soon,” Eliza says as she traces different paths through the maze. “Three exits . . . but which one is right?”

  * * *

  TO HEAD TOWARD EXIT ONE, CLICK HERE.

  TO HEAD TOWARD EXIT TWO, CLICK HERE.

  TO HEAD TOWARD EXIT THREE, CLICK HERE.

  * * *

  “SO,” I SAY, “Guinevere LeCavalier tells us you’ve been extra grumpy lately. Why?”

  Smythe turns red. As red as a beet. As red as a tomato. As red as a stop sign. As red as the color red.

  Smythe growls and leans toward us. He could beat all three of us up with his pinkie finger.

  “How dare you,” he sneers. “You . . . you! Prancing around this house! Sticking your snotty little noses in places they don’t belong and pointing your greasy little fingers at me!”

  I cower. “W-we just asked a simple question!”

  “Get out of this house right now!”

  “We don’t work for you,” Eliza says. “You can’t fire us.”

  Smythe flexes his muscles. “Get out! If I ever catch you in here again, I’ll—”

  But I don’t hear what he says because I run away. And so do Eliza and Frank. Smythe is so mad, he’s going to EXPLODE, and we’ll have intestine spaghetti all over us! We run quickly from the room, but Smythe tails us, chasing us out the front door. Then he slams the door in our faces.

  Every day for a week, we try to sneak into Guinevere LeCavalier’s house to investigate more, but Smythe blocks our every move. We can’t get in. Guinevere thinks we are flaky, so she calls Mom’s office to complain. And that is how Mom gets word of what we did.

  Our punishment? We have to clean Guinevere LeCavalier’s whole house with tiny toothbrushes. And worst of all, we have to listen to her sing off-tune opera the whole time!

  Make it stop. MAKE IT STOP!

  CASE CLOSED.

  WE RUN BACK to Guinevere’s house, let ourselves in the front door, and search all around for Smythe. We check inside room after room, but he’s nowhere to be found. We zip through the hallways, our shoes squeaking as we run.

  Suddenly Smythe towers over us, and his face scrunches up with anger.

  “What are you children doing?” he snarls. “Who do you think will clean those scuff marks all over the floor?”

  “Sorry,” I say. “We were looking for you.”

  Smythe makes his hands into fists. I hope he’s not thinking of punching us.

  “What do you children want?”

  “To ask you some questions,” Eliza says, “about why you’ve been so grouchy lately.”

  I smack my head. Eliza!

  Smythe’s face gets so red that it’s almost purple. His head looks like one giant grape about to burst. “Get out!”

  “You can’t kick us out,” I say. “Guinevere hired us.”

  “I don’t care!” Smythe roars. Spit flies from his mouth. “Leave!”

  He looks so scary with his spit flying everywhere and his purple face and a vein popping out of his forehead. Frank looks like he’s about to cry, and even Eliza’s eyes fill with tears.

  Smythe chases us out of the house and locks the door behind us. We spend all day trying to break back in, but he seals the place tight. Every time we run to another door or window, Smythe is on the other side, thwarting our every plan to get close to the case again.

  Guilty behavior?

  We’ll never know.

  CASE CLOSED.

  MADDOCK SNEERS AT me. He is super mad. I have to get out of here! Plus, if I run, they’ll chase me, allowing Eliza and Frank to escape.

  I make a full one-eighty turn and start moving. I run so fast, I almost trip down the stairs, and I grab on to the bannister for support. But Maddock is faster—with his grown-up legs, he skips down three steps at a time and grabs me around the middle.

  “LET! GO!”

  At the sound of my voice, Eliza and Frank pop out of the laundry baskets and come to help.

  I kick and scratch and flail as Maddock wrestles me to the ground . . . and, to add insult to defeat, he sits on me.

  “There,” he says. “You’re not going anywhere. And don’t move!” he says to Eliza and Frank at the top of the stairs. “Take one step, and I’ll put all my weight on your friend here.”

  “This isn’t all your weight?” I choke.

  “I
t’s about half,” he says, and I cry out. If he decides to totally crush me, he could probably do it. “Honey bunny!” he calls at Patty Schnozzleton. “Call Guinevere LeCavalier! I want her to come over here and explain to me why these detectives were snooping in our house.”

  Patty blanches. “Do you think Guinevere told them to go after us?”

  “She didn’t!” Eliza says. “It was all our idea!”

  “It doesn’t matter,” Maddock says. “I want her to come over to pick you up anyway.”

  Patty disappears down the hall, no doubt to phone Guinevere LeCavalier’s house. I am so embarrassed, and not just because a grown man is sitting on top of me.

  Within minutes, the doorbell rings, but when Patty opens the door, it’s not Guinevere at all! It’s Ivy and Smythe.

  Ivy’s hair is in rollers, and her eyes dart wildly around the foyer and the stairwell. “What are you doing, playing a wrestling game?” she cries.

  “I’m not playing,” I say angrily. Honestly, does it seem like fun to be crushed beneath two hundred pounds of icky lawyer?

  Maddock finally rolls off me. I stand up with as much dignity as I can muster.

  “Where have you been all morning? We’ve been waiting for you!” Ivy shrieks. She’s shrill and hysterical, the total opposite of how she’d been during questioning yesterday, and I’m starting to wonder if I even know her at all. “We have an emergency!”

  “Emergency? What emergency?” Eliza asks.

  “My mother’s been kidnapped!” Ivy says. “The culprit left a note, saying they’ve taken my mom along to help find the treasure! They say that at sunset they’re going to . . . to . . .” She mimes drawing a line across her throat.