Mystery in the Mansion

by Lauren Magaziner

  I want to tell her—but I don’t at the same time. I’ve been keeping this from her for so long I don’t even know where to start.

  “Carlos,” she says.

  “It’s my mom!” I blurt out. “She’s broke. We’re broke.”

  Eliza sighs. “That’s what’s been on your mind this whole time?” She puts an arm around my shoulder. “You’re not alone. We don’t have a lot of money, either.”

  “Yes, you do! Your dad has a steady job.”

  “A steady job that doesn’t pay well. At least when your mom gets paid, it’s a lot of money all at once.”

  “Yeah, but then nothing for months after that. At least your dad gets paid every week!”

  “Carlos, it’s not a competition—”

  “YES IT IS!” Frank says. “AND I WIN!”

  “I’m just saying we’re in this together,” Eliza says. “And we’re here for you and your mom. That’s why we took this case in the first place, right? To earn the paycheck in her place?”

  I nod.

  “Well, the best way to do that is to save Guinevere,” she says. “We have to keep going.”

  I could kick myself. I should have told her from the start—she’s made me feel so much better. She is the best friend in the world. I hug her. Then all three of us stare into the pit we’re about to climb down. “I’ll go first,” I say, sounding a lot braver than I feel.

  I put my foot on the top of the ladder, slowly and carefully heading into the darkness.

  I have to feel my way down the ladder, being careful to make sure my foot hits every rung. After all, I have no idea how far down this hole goes. For all I know, if I fall off the ladder, I could drop a thousand feet.

  I reach down with my foot. Touch the rung. Then grab the next lowest rung with my hands. I reach down again with my foot—only this time, there’s nothing there.

  “Wait! Freeze!” I say, and Eliza and Frank dead-stop above me.

  “What’s wrong?” Eliza says.

  “There are no more rungs for my feet!”

  “Do you feel the ground?” she asks.

  “No!”

  “Whatever you do, don’t let go!”

  “What if I farted?” says Frank.

  “What?” Eliza and I both say.

  “What if I farted?” Frank giggles. “Eliza, your face is near my butt. I could fart on you.”

  “DON’T. YOU. DARE.”

  Suddenly, between my hands, there’s a word that lights up. It’s glowing green.

  “Slink,” I say. “There’s a word lit up between my hands, and it’s slink!”

  Then there seems to be a bunch of words lighting up. Below slink is stink, and below stink is sting. And to the left-hand side of me, there are weird phrases.

  As I read them out loud to Eliza, she gasps. “I know what this is! It’s a word ladder. I’ve done puzzles like this on paper before, but never with an actual ladder!”

  “How does it work?”

  “As you climb down the ladder, you can only change one letter of the word before it. Use the clues on the side of the ladder to help you figure out what the next word should be.”

  STARTING WORD: SLINK.

  A terrible smell.

  A bee _____.

  When you injure a shoulder, you wrap your arm in a _____.

  Informal (and not proper) vocabulary.

  Not straight up and down, but on an angle.

  Many of these grow in my garden.

  You fly in this object.

  A long, flat piece of wood.

  Fill in the _____.

  To quickly shut your eyes and open them again.

  Unable to see.

  Tasteless and boring.

  A _____-new item.

  FINAL WORD: change one letter to complete the ladder.

  * * *

  IF YOU THINK THE FINAL WORD IS BEARD, CLICK HERE.

  IF YOU THINK THE FINAL WORD IS BRAID, CLICK HERE.

  * * *

  THE DOOR OPENS.

  “I KNOW WE NEED THE MONEY. Yes, I’m planning to go into the treasure tunnels just as soon as I get a ch—” Ivy pauses at the sight of us in her room. There’s me and Eliza, holding some papers from her suitcase, and Frank, wearing her fancy hats and trotting around in her high heels.

  “Walter, I have to go,” Ivy says, and she hangs up the phone.

  She blocks the door, looking mad, feverish, murderous.

  * * *

  CLICK HERE.

  * * *

  “WE THINK YOU did it,” I say, pointing at Smythe.

  “Me?” Smythe snorts. “You’ve got to be joking!”

  “We know you wanted to go work for Patty Schnozzleton.” I steal a quick glance at Guinevere. She looks betrayed. “And you feel unappreciated by Mrs. LeCavalier.”

  I pause for a breath, and Eliza jumps in. “Anyone walking by the mailbox could have set up the first threat. But painting the library and unscrewing the chandelier require access to this house. And you have easy access.”

  “AND YOU’RE MEAN!” Frank adds.

  Smythe is so angry he looks like his head’s about to pop off. “Yes, but just because I could have doesn’t mean I did.” His voice is shaking. He takes a deep breath and calms himself. “It’s true, I’ve been frustrated with my job lately. But I would never threaten Mrs. LeCavalier. I was there for her wedding. I was there when Ivy was born. I was her shoulder to cry on when Mr. LeCavalier passed. I’ve been loyal to this household for thirty years.”

  He looks at Guinevere pleadingly, his eyes wide. He’s a good liar, I think. Because for a second, I believe him.

  But it’s not up to me anymore. It’s up to Guinevere, and I have no idea what she’s going to do. She clutches one of her gemstone necklaces and looks around the foyer. First at the mess. Then at her daughter, then at Maddock, then at us. It’s like she doesn’t know what to do. Her mouth pinches tightly and her nostrils flare.

  Suddenly Guinevere shrieks, “Call the police! ARREST THAT MAN!”

  We all quickly surround him.

  “It’s not me!” Smythe says, sweat running down his face. “It’s not!” He licks his lips, looking around for an exit. His eyes are shifty and darting.

  Guinevere glares at him. “Smythe! Dial the police!” she commands, snapping her fingers. “Oh, wait, I mean . . . SOMEONE ELSE! Dial the police!”

  Maddock flips open his cell phone and dials 911, and the police show up about five minutes later.

  “YOU’LL BE SORRYYYYYY!” Smythe calls as three officers force him into the back of a police car. Then they drive him away.

  I feel like cheering! We got our bad guy—the case is solved!

  After the officers leave, Guinevere comes up to us, teary-eyed and snotty. “My dearest detectives! Thank you so much for all your help! I never would have suspected Smythe! I owe you everything!”

  I grin.

  Eliza beams.

  Frank tries to lick his own nose.

  Guinevere gives us big sloppy forehead kisses. Then she hands us a check and has a policeman drive us home.

  When I walk into my house, I wonder how I’m going to tell Mom about stealing her case, but luckily, she’s sleeping. The weight of the past few days and all the pressure I’ve been feeling to save my mom’s agency sinks in, and I crawl right into bed. I can deal with Mom in the morning. . . .

  BRRRRRRRRNNNNNNNGGGGGGG! BRRRRRRNNNGGGG! The sound of our telephone.

  I pop out of bed and look at my clock: 3:48 a.m.

  Who in the world would call our house at almost four in the morning?

  I walk to our kitchen and pick up the phone.

  “Hello?” I yawn.

  “Detective Serrano! This is Guinevere LeCavalier!”

  Guinevere LeCavalier? What—why? “What can I do for you?”

  “You can give me my money back.”

  At that, I fully wake up. “What?”

  “Someone destroyed my house with a wrecking ball to expose secret underground tunnel
s. Ivy and I only just escaped, but I’m sure my fortune is on its way to being stolen—if it hasn’t been already,” she says. “And guess what? It wasn’t Smythe. Because he is safely locked away in jail. So who did this, detectives?”

  I—I don’t know. And I tell her that, much to her dismay and angry screams.

  I hang up the phone, a sinking feeling in my stomach. So it wasn’t Smythe after all. We sent an innocent man to jail, and we gave the real culprit a chance to steal the treasure. . . .

  It’s all my fault.

  The next day, Mrs. LeCavalier goes to the press, making sure everyone knows what a dreadful job my mom did. After that, my mom’s agency goes bankrupt, and Mom loses her private eye license. So not only does Mom’s entire career go kaboom, but with all the horrible things being said about her, she can’t get a job anywhere. To escape the heat, Mom moves us to Antarctica (the coldest place she could think of).

  You know how, in a mystery, they say the trail goes cold?

  Well, this trail went ice-cold.

  CASE CLOSED.

  I HAVE TO stop Eliza—and take matters into my own hands. After all, this is my mom’s agency on the line.

  “ELIZA, STOP!” I shout.

  “Just let me handle this, Carlos, and I’ll get you the money you need.”

  “I don’t need the money,” I tell her. “I need to solve this case! We’re trying to save my mom’s agency, remember? Not just pay our bills! Which means we need to close this case. We can’t do that if you cut a deal with the criminal.”

  Otto’s eyes widen, and he tightens his grip on the treasure.

  Frank’s eyes ping-pong back and forth between Eliza and me.

  Eliza glares at me. “Carlos, be quiet! I have this under control.”

  “I WILL NOT BE QUIET! You’re going to ruin Mom’s agency. I can’t let you do that!”

  “I would never! Trust me—”

  “Oh ho!” Otto shouts, hugging his treasure chest. “You were going to trick me, weren’t you, girl? But your plan has been foiled!” He dashes off in the other direction.

  We run behind him, but he ends up climbing up a ledge that we’re all too short to reach.

  And then he escapes. With the treasure. For good.

  “Carlos, you dummy!” Eliza cries. “You ruined my whole plan!”

  Eliza is so mad at me for not trusting her that she gives me the silent treatment—and gets everyone in my school to give me the cold shoulder. The only one in town who will talk to me is Mom, but she’s so mad at me for ruining her case and destroying her agency that she only tells me I am grounded. Then she gives me the silent treatment too.

  The only one who will talk to me is . . . me.

  “How ya doing, Carlos?”

  “I’m great, Carlos! How are you, Carlos?”

  “Oh, Carlos! What spectacular company you are!”

  “Do you think all this talking to yourself will make you go crazy, Carlos?”

  “Why, Carlos—why would you ever say a thing like that?”

  “HAHA, CARLOS. YOU JOKESTER. HA HA HA! HA!”

  CASE CLOSED.

  THIS BOX PUZZLE is difficult! “I don’t see any more boxes. Do you, Eliza?”

  “Yes,” Eliza says, pointing out the remaining two boxes. “See that? Those are the last two.”

  “So that makes . . . five plus three plus two . . . ,” I count.

  “Ten rectangles total,” Eliza says.

  “TEN!” Frank shrieks.

  * * *

  ADD FIFTY TO THE SOLUTION OF THIS PUZZLE.

  IF YOU THINK THE ANSWER IS 60, CLICK HERE.

  IF YOU THINK THE ANSWER IS 56, CLICK HERE.

  * * *

  TIME TO PLAY the blame game. I look at Eliza for support, and she nods.

  “We suspect that Patty and Maddock are behind all this.”

  “GUILTY!” Frank hollers.

  “Us?” Patty gasps.

  Maddock is silent.

  But they move so close to each other that they’re practically like conjoined twins. Patty laces her fingers through Maddock’s, and I try not to vomit up my breakfast.

  Ivy squints at me. “What proof do you have?”

  “Patty has been mad at your mom for years—she admitted to us that she wants revenge on Guinevere. And Maddock knows about the treasure and has access to the house.”

  “We suspect,” Eliza continues, “that they’ve been working together to threaten your mom.”

  “Plus they’re all kissy-kissy!” Frank adds with some smoochy sounds.

  “And the most important thing,” I say confidently, “is that they both were talking about a secret plan for today. And how Guinevere was going to be so surprised—”

  “Not Guinevere!” Patty says. “We were talking about my friend Betty! We’re throwing her a surprise party this afternoon!”

  “Wait, what?” I say. A surprise party? That’s it?

  “I may play a few pranks every now and again, but I don’t want to kill her!”

  Eliza smacks her head. “Of course! Why was I so stupid?” Suddenly her smile grows wide. “I’ve just figured it out. I know exactly who’s behind all these death threats.”

  Ivy, Smythe, and Patty look interested and eager, but Maddock strokes his goatee like he couldn’t care either way.

  “It’s THEM, isn’t it?” Frank says, pointing at Patty and Maddock.

  “No,” Eliza says.

  “It’s THEM, then!” Frank says, pointing at Ivy and Smythe.

  Eliza chuckles. “Actually, it’s not them either.”

  “Then whooooooooooo?” Frank says. And then he starts who-whoing like an owl.

  “Yeah, who?” I say with a sharp glare at Frank.

  Eliza sits down on the bottom step of Patty’s stairs. The wood creaks beneath her, and one of Patty’s dogs runs up and tries to lick Eliza’s face. She points at Ivy. “You said the culprit has taken Guinevere into the tunnels to help find the treasure, right?”

  Ivy nods.

  “This means that Guinevere is with the culprit at the moment. In order to be guilty, you’d have to currently be on a treasure hunt with Guinevere LeCavalier.”

  “Okay?” I say.

  “But,” she continues, leaning against the bannister, “there is someone we know who isn’t here. Someone who was here yesterday and the day before . . . but who isn’t anymore. Any guesses who?”

  “THE COOKIE MONSTER!” Frank shouts.

  But it’s not the cookie monster. I don’t know how or when or why, but there’s only one suspect who is missing today.

  “Otto,” I breathe.

  Patty harrumphs. “We would like an apology.”

  “Or we’ll sue.” Maddock smirks.

  “Sorry,” I say.

  “I’m not!” Frank says, and Eliza nudges him.

  Eliza twirls her hair thoughtfully. “Now that we know what we’re up against—or who we’re up against—the only thing left is to follow Otto. But where is Otto?”

  Smythe grunts. “Try the toolshed.”

  “How dare you suggest the toolshed!” Ivy gasps, looking like she could smack Smythe.

  “What’s wrong with the toolshed?” I say.

  Smythe blushes sheepishly. “Mr. LeCavalier loved to garden, you see. He split much of his free time between his study and his toolshed. But he was a very private man. He never let anyone inside the toolshed. Even after his death, we have been forbidden to enter—out of respect to his memory.” He turns to Ivy, an apologetic wince on his face. His droopy eyes sparkle with tears. “The only reason I suggest it is because I’ve seen Otto hanging around the toolshed a few times.”

  Come to think of it, I’ve seen Otto near the toolshed too. I think about the shed, with its green-spackled paint. Wait a minute . . .

  “Green house!” I say. “The toolshed is green!”

  Eliza smacks her hand on her head. “Yes, of course!” She closes her eyes and recites, from memory, the clue to the treasure hunt we received from Guin
evere that very first morning.

  “The red house is made of red bricks.

  The blue house is made of blue bricks.

  The white house is made of white bricks.

  The gray house is made of gray bricks.

  What is the green house made of?”

  “It’s not glass,” Eliza says. “The clue is pointing us to an actual green house on the LeCavalier property!”

  “We have to check it out!” I insist.

  My stomach turns as I think about everything we have to lose: Guinevere’s life, a treasure, my mom’s company, and my mom’s trust (though I may have already lost that one).

  But most important is my mom’s happiness. I took this case for her—so that she wouldn’t have to give up the thing she loves most in the world. I can’t fail.

  * * *

  TO GO TO THE TOOLSHED, CLICK HERE.

  * * *

  I DON’T WANT to have to accuse anyone. After all, it’s too early to tell who’s behind this. It could be anyone.

  I can almost hear Mom’s voice in my head, saying, “Keep your cards close to the chest.”

  “We’re not sure yet,” I finally say.

  “Well, get sure. The clock is ticking! And my mom doesn’t have much time left!”

  “So, what do you want us to do?”

  “Come up with a plan!” Ivy shouts. “Catch the culprit!”

  I look over at Patty’s house. Maybe there’s some way we can follow them or catch them. I turn to Eliza for help, but she has sunk down into a chair, her eyes closed. Her most intense thinking face. Frank, meanwhile, has sidled up to a window.

  “Eliza?” says Frank.

  “Yes?” she replies through gritted teeth.

  “Eliza?”

  “Yes?”

  “ELIZA?”

  “What, Frank? Spit it out!”

  “Can I play outside?”

  Eliza groans. “I’m trying to think, Frank! Can’t you please be quiet?”

  “I just wanna go outside. So I can make a whistle out of the long grass! Or a daisy chain.”