Mystery in the Mansion

by Lauren Magaziner

  Which, of course, is the one thing to say to make Frank and me look there.

  At first I don’t see what she’s looking at . . . and then I do: behind Otto and Guinevere, and ten feet up, there’s a hole in the cave wall, where rows of bats are sleeping upside down.

  “I thought you were afraid of bugs, not bats,” I mutter.

  “Yes, but I’m not the biggest fan of anything that can give me rabies, either.”

  Fair point.

  “Stop whispering over there!” Otto growls. “Line up, single file. And walk slowly to me. Let’s all get in this room, shall we? It’ll be . . .” He grins, his teeth like bones. “A party.”

  I need some way to distract Otto. As far as I see it, I have two options: I could ask him a lot of questions, to stall and buy me some more thinking time. Or I could be bold and strong, to intimidate him. Which method is going to get me the results I want?

  * * *

  TO ASK OTTO QUESTIONS ABOUT HIS MOTIVES AND STALL FOR TIME, CLICK HERE.

  TO TRY TO INTIMIDATE OTTO, CLICK HERE.

  * * *

  IVY IS A big fat liar, and it’s time to face her!

  I march up to her, and Eliza and Frank stay behind me.

  “What are you kids doing in here?” She turns pinker than a cow’s udder. “How—how long have you—what have you heard?”

  “You need money, don’t you?” I yell.

  “Shhhhhhhhhh!” Ivy hushes me.

  “You’re dying to get your hands on that treasure,” Eliza says. “You have a clear motive.”

  “Motive?” Ivy chokes. She twists her hair around her finger nervously. “Motive for what?”

  “For these horrible death threats on your mother. You’re behind them, aren’t you?”

  “I—I . . . what?” Ivy stammers. “That is the craziest thing I’ve ever heard!”

  “Crazy? I’ll show you crazy!” Frank cries, before making his eyes bulge out and sticking out his tongue.

  “And why didn’t you tell us earlier that you knew how to get into the treasure tunnels? Were you just waiting for us to go home so you can steal the treasure for yourself?”

  “And get revenge on your mom while you’re at it,” Eliza adds.

  “I—I just can’t believe you would even think I’m behind this!” Ivy cries. She looks upset now—her face is all scrunched up, and her eyes are watery. “I mean, Mom and I have our differences, but I still love her! I would never want her dead! I just wish she would see how much I love Walter! Even though he runs a dying restaurant, and I’m just a poor artist, and we don’t have two pennies to rub together! Did you know my parents wrote me out of their will? I always thought that Mom would love me and support me no matter what, even if I got into money troubles, which I . . . I . . . I have.” She hiccups. Then she sits on her bed and hugs a stuffed seal to her chest.

  Then Ivy says a lot more, but I can’t understand her, because it sounds like a whole bunch of blubbering and wailing. Like the mating call of a beluga.

  “Get out of here!” Ivy finally howls. “Just leave me alone!”

  We walk out of the house and sit on the porch steps. Except Frank, who runs around on the lawn, jumping over invisible lava.

  “What a liar,” I say. “Did you see all those fake tears?”

  Eliza rubs her chin. “I don’t know what she’s trying to prove. I mean, we already know that Ivy really wants the treasure—”

  “Now, what’s this I hear about Ivy?” Otto says, popping up from the flower bed. He’s holding giant flower-clipping scissors.

  Eliza and I both jump.

  “Sorry! I didn’t mean to frighten you,” Otto says. “I couldn’t help overhearing.”

  Frank stops in front of Otto and puts his hands on his hips. “YOU!” he demands. “BE THE VOLCANO.”

  Otto stares at Frank and scratches his head.

  “Nooooooooo,” Frank says. “Shout BOOM!”

  “Boom . . . ?” Otto says.

  Frank falls to the ground and writhes around.

  “What were we talking about?” I say, turning back to Otto and Eliza. “I forget.”

  “You were saying something about Ivy. Is she the one threatening Mrs. LeCavalier?” Otto asks.

  * * *

  TO ASK OTTO IF HE HAS ANY INFORMATION ABOUT IVY, CLICK HERE.

  TO TELL OTTO TO MIND HIS OWN BUSINESS, CLICK HERE.

  * * *

  I REACH INTO Eliza’s backpack and grab a handful of raisins. Then I wind up for the long throw, just like in baseball practice. And boom! I pitch a handful of raisins straight into the bat cave. Clicking noises start echoing in the alcove, and all at once, the bats swoop out of their resting spot.

  They dive at Otto and Guinevere, who shriek and put their hands up to their faces. They’re both swiping bats away from their heads.

  “FRANK TO THE RESCUE!” Frank shouts, and he dives into the room, grabs Guinevere by the hand, and leads her out. He leaves Otto behind to battle the bats alone.

  “Frank!” Eliza scolds. “Bats have diseases! That was a very stupid thing—”

  “No time!” I interrupt. The bats are flying our way. “GO!”

  I dash in front, trying not to jerk the lantern too much, while at the same time running for dear life. When we reach the word ladder, I’m so relieved to see that the rungs are still there.

  I usher Frank up the ladder first, since he’s youngest and fastest. Then Guinevere LeCavalier, because she’s the client. Then Eliza. Then me. We all climb the ladder frantically, and I even lose my grip a few times, but I quickly grab hold again and keep going up.

  When we finally reach the trapdoor and scamper into the toolshed, I breathe a sigh of relief. I hear loud sirens, very close by. We hurry outside and run right into a crowd of police officers.

  And at that moment—the moment we realize we’re safe—Eliza and I hug each other and laugh.

  Turns out, we must go to the hospital. All five of us, even Otto. (Though he’s dragged there in handcuffs.)

  Just in case one of the bats had rabies, we all need to get vaccinated. And rabies vaccinations are intense. We’re going to have to come back four different times over the next month to keep getting more shots.

  Later, as we’re talking to the doctors, Mom, Mrs. Thompson, and Mr. Thompson burst into our hospital room, all three of them wailing.

  “What were you kids thinking?” Mrs. Thompson cries.

  “I’m so glad you’re safe!” Mr. Thompson howls.

  “You awe in so much twouble!” Mom blubbers, and then she sneezes again.

  “Helloooooooo?” Guinevere says, popping her head into the room. “Did you get your lollipops, detectives?” she asks, and she doesn’t even wait for an answer before handing us each one. “I just got my vaccination too.”

  “Sorry,” I say, glancing down at my shoes. “We didn’t mean for you to get hurt.”

  “Are you kidding?” Guinevere says. “I’m perfectly fine! Why, I’m better than fine! That booster was practically painless. You know what they say about medicine going down!”

  “A spoonful of sugar helps?” Eliza suggests.

  “A spoonful!” cries Guinevere. “Who said anything about a spoonful? We need a bucketful.” She snaps her fingers. “Smythe! The jelly beans!”

  Smythe trudges into the room, carrying a bucket of jelly beans, just as grumpy as I’ve ever seen him.

  “I need you to pick out the jelliest of jelly beans for me!” Guinevere commands. “And you’ve removed the blue ones?”

  Smythe nods.

  “Good! What a terribly pedestrian color!”

  “Who . . . who is this woman?” Eliza’s dad asks.

  Ooooops. I forgot that not everyone in the room knows one another. I introduce Guinevere LeCavalier to Eliza and Frank’s parents and to my mom, the true detective.

  “Aha!” Guinevere exclaims. “Just the person I wanted to meet! We must discuss payment. . . .” She trails off for a moment as she digs into her purse. She retri
eves four envelopes. “A check for Las Pistas Detective Agency. And three bonus checks for my fraudulent—but excellent—young detectives. I hope you find the payment satisfactory.”

  Mom, Eliza, and Frank all rip open their envelopes and stare at the checks with dropped jaws.

  I don’t even open mine. “For you, Mom,” I say.

  Mom ruffles my hair. Then she reaches for the check, but I pull it away quickly. “With the one condition that you’ll let us help out with a case again!”

  Mom smiles. “How cute. Making jokes before the punishment of a lifetime.”

  Ah, well. That’s to be expected.

  But don’t worry. I fully plan to change her mind.

  CASE CLOSED.

  I DECIDE NOT to risk upsetting Ivy. If she gets upset, we might get fired!

  “Well, thanks, Ivy,” I say.

  “We’ll be in touch,” says Eliza.

  “NOT!” Frank says, and he marches out of the room.

  Eliza and I apologize for him, and then we follow him out.

  “That was boring,” Frank complains. “I don’t like talking to people.”

  “Sorry, Frank,” I say. “But that’s what detectives do, sometimes. Lots of times, the suspects hold all the answers.”

  “It’s like a puzzle,” Eliza says. “Everyone is holding a little puzzle piece, and you have to collect them all before you can put together the big picture. And Frankie, once we can see the big picture, we’ll solve the case!”

  “Puzzles are boring! People are boring! Cases are boringggggg!” Frank says.

  “Frank,” I say. “I’ll give you a piece of candy if you can somersault through this hall without breaking anything.”

  His eyes grow wide. “OKAY!” he says, and he starts to tumble.

  “Good thinking,” Eliza says. “That leaves us thirty seconds to talk before he gets bored again. What do you think we should do next?”

  “We should probably follow up on Ivy’s suggestions, especially now that we know what a dirty, lying thief Maddock is.”

  “And Patty!” Eliza says. “We know more about her too. Her obsession with revenge sounds like a promising lead.”

  “And so far, we haven’t been able to crack Smythe at all . . . but we need to figure him out—and fast!”

  So many leads, so little time! The pressure of solving this case—of bailing Mom out of trouble—is starting to twist in my stomach.

  “Well?” Eliza says. “What should we do?”

  * * *

  TO QUESTION MADDOCK AGAIN, CLICK HERE.

  TO QUESTION SMYTHE, CLICK HERE.

  TO QUESTION PATTY SCHNOZZLETON, CLICK HERE.

  * * *

  I HAVE TO go with my gut. And my gut says, “Back off and STOP with the Preston talk!”

  “We have all we need right now.”

  “Okay!” Guinevere says, standing up slowly. Her bracelets jangle around on her wrists. “All these death-threat shenanigans are giving me soooo much stress. I’m going to go take a bubble bath to relax myself. Smythe!” she shrieks. “Prepare the bubble bath! Lavender-scented bubbles! And rubber ducks!”

  Guinevere leaves the room, belting out a song about rubber duckies.

  Ivy lifts a cup of tea to her lips. She looks fragile and shaky—like a giraffe in high heels.

  Ivy tucks a strand of her brownish-blond hair behind an ear and smiles feebly. I guess she looked a lot like Guinevere LeCavalier at first, but now I think she looks a lot plainer . . . maybe because she’s wearing an ordinary T-shirt and white shorts, with no jewelry.

  For a second, I try to figure out how old Ivy is. She’s younger than my mom, I think. But sometimes it’s hard to tell with adults. There’s a whole bunch of years, in between teenager and old person, where they all look the same age to me.

  “You wanted to ask me a question?” Ivy squeaks.

  “Yes,” I say. “If you don’t mind.”

  Before I can ask anything, Eliza leans forward and says, “What do you know about your half brother?”

  “Preston?” Ivy says, and her voice is as wobbly as a rattling teacup. “I know as much as you know. Mom and Dad never talked about him.”

  “Did you ever see any of his letters? Or any pictures?” Eliza says.

  Ivy shakes her head. “Honestly, he’s never been a part of my life. If you want information about him, I think you’re barking up the wrong tree here.”

  “We’re not barking!” Frank says. “ARF ARF!” He grins, showing off his baby teeth. “Okay, now we’re barking.”

  I roll my eyes.

  “Do you think Preston might possibly want your mom’s treasure?” Eliza asks.

  “It’s hard for me to say,” Ivy says. “As I’ve been telling you, I know literally nothing about Preston. But even if he did want it—or if any of my mom’s many enemies wanted it—I think the treasure would be practically impossible to find if you’re not Mom or me.”

  Guinevere’s many enemies? Impossible-to-find treasure? I sit up on the couch. I don’t even know which thread to follow—they’re both full of possibility!

  * * *

  TO ASK IVY MORE ABOUT THE TREASURE, CLICK HERE.

  TO ASK IVY ABOUT GUINEVERE’S ENEMIES, CLICK HERE.

  * * *

  I DECIDE TO go interview Smythe. We run around the house, but Smythe is nowhere to be found. It’s okay, though, because we’re having fun looking. Frank and I take off our shoes and slide along the polished wood floors in our socks. Frank is pretending he’s an Olympic ice skater.

  Eliza’s looking around every corner, but I can’t stop looking up. Guinevere LeCavalier has some pretty awesome paintings on her ceiling that I didn’t notice before.

  There’s a painting of a sky with fluffy clouds on the ceiling of the entranceway, there’s a painting of a deer being hunted in the dining room, there’s a painting of a rainbow made of jelly beans in the walk-in pantry, and in the drawing room, there’s a painting of a goddess on a chariot that’s being pulled by ponies. Only . . . wait a minute! That’s no goddess! It’s the face of a younger Guinevere LeCavalier—

  “Look out!” Eliza says as I walk facefirst into a column.

  “Owwwwww!” I groan.

  “Pay attention to where you’re walking!” she says.

  I stick out my tongue in response—and dash into the ballroom, where I start leaping and jumping and dancing around because I’ve never been in a bigger room in my life! Frank mimics my every move, and it’s pretty fun having a shadow. Eliza is laughing at our very ungraceful dancing. She would know, too—she’s the only one of us who’s taken dance classes.

  “Whatever you do, Eliza, don’t laugh!” I joke, and my voice echoes all around the ballroom. “Hey! That’s cool! Helloooo!” I shout.

  “Helloooo!” Frank copies.

  “Helloooo!” echoes the ballroom.

  “Hey, you kids!” bellows a deep, grumbly voice, and we turn to the entrance.

  Smythe storms in, his head looking like a balloon about to pop.

  “What are you kids doing?” Smythe demands.

  Uh-oh. Just as I’m about to apologize, Eliza cuts in. “We knew if we made a loud commotion, you’d find us. You’re just the person we want to talk to.”

  Smythe grunts.

  Is Smythe even capable of smiling? I want to ask him about his sour mood . . . or is that too offensive? Maybe I should ask if he’s seen anything suspicious around the house.

  * * *

  TO ASK SMYTHE WHY HE’S BEEN GROUCHY LATELY, CLICK HERE.

  TO ASK SMYTHE IF HE’S SEEN ANYTHING SUSPICIOUS, CLICK HERE.

  * * *

  MY HEART TELLS me to trust my own thoughts, but my brain thinks maybe I should follow Eliza’s plan. She’s so smart—smarter than me—and her plan might save my mom.

  I give Eliza a quick nod, and she darts into the hall. Frank and I follow.

  “Mrs. LeCavalier!” she calls repeatedly as she leaps through an open area full of couches. “Mrs. LeCav—”

&nb
sp; WUMP.

  Eliza runs straight into Guinevere and sends her flying backward. Guinevere lands on a loveseat with a bounce and curses loudly.

  “Ooooooooh!” squeals Frank. “You said a bad word!”

  Guinevere LeCavalier rolls herself off the couch, adjusts her blouse, and glares at the three of us. “What is all this racket?”

  I step up. “We came to tell you about Maddock—”

  “What about Maddock?” says a voice from the doorway. Maddock. He runs a hand through his slick black hair and smirks.

  “He—it’s him! He’s the one!” Eliza says.

  Maddock clicks his tongue sadly. “These poor children are confused. They’ve let their imagination run away with them. They have no idea what they’re talking about.”

  Eliza points at Maddock. “He said he was trying to take your money.”

  “I said no such thing,” Maddock says.

  “Did too!” Eliza says.

  “Did not!” says Frank.

  “See? Did not!” says Maddock.

  “Did too!” cries Frank.

  “SILENCE!!!!!!!!!!” Guinevere hollers. The whole room hushes. “Since it’s just your word against Maddock’s word, there is only one logical way to decide who’s telling the truth.” She digs deep into her pocket and smiles. “We’ll flip a coin.”

  Eliza’s jaw drops. “That’s not logical at all!”

  But Guinevere isn’t listening. “Heads, I believe the detectives. Tails, I go with Maddock. Fate will be our guide.”

  Without hesitation, she flips the coin in the air. It spins around and around like in slow motion, and I feel like I’ve just eaten a whole roll of quarters. How could I have left this all up to chance?

  Guinevere catches the coin in her hand and opens her palm.