Mystery in the Mansion

by Lauren Magaziner

  The lantern illuminates a wall with a giant tapestry on it. The tapestry is red and gold and royal blue, and it looks very majestic. But unlike the tapestries inside the LeCavalier house, this one doesn’t have a picture of anything on it. There are just a whole bunch of random circles.

  “GET AWAY FROM ME, YOU WRETCHED MAN!” Guinevere says, and her voice is closer than ever. It’s pretty much right behind the tapestry.

  “Quiet, or I’ll shut you up myself,” Otto snarls. His voice gives me shivers.

  I hold up the lantern while Eliza and I try to peek behind the cloth. I’m hoping there is a door, so that I can get to Guinevere before Otto does something horrible.

  But instead of a door, the wall has a message:

  The shortest distance between two points is a line.

  The shortest and longest line is a circle, for a circle has no beginning and no end.

  How many are on my tapestry?

  The second sentence gives me a headache, but the task seems straightforward enough. But then I look at the tapestry again, and sigh. There are a lot of circles.

  “Maybe we can shade each circle when we’re done counting it,” Eliza says, digging into her backpack and pulling out a piece of chalk. “That way, we can keep track of the ones we’ve already counted.”

  I take the chalk from her. “Got it.”

  “And I think we should start with the smaller circles first, since the small circles are inside bigger circles. Save the bigger circles for later. That should help.”

  * * *

  ADD ONE HUNDRED TO THE SOLUTION OF THIS PUZZLE.

  IF YOU THINK THE ANSWER IS 231, CLICK HERE.

  IF YOU THINK THE ANSWER IS 226, CLICK HERE.

  * * *

  “WHAT DOES THIS mean?” I ask Eliza. “Tune tune tune tune?”

  Eliza licks her lips. She’s got that look in her eyes again—that hungry gotta-solve-everything kind of look. “I think they’re picture puzzles.”

  “There are four tunes,” she mumbles to herself. “Four tune. For-tune. Fortune.”

  I smack my head. “Ohhhhh! So the second one . . .” I stare at it blankly.

  “TO THE,” Frank says loudly. “To the . . . tothe . . . TOOTH!”

  Eliza shakes her head no. “I don’t think that’s it, Frankie. I’m pretty sure the key to this one is the placement of the words to the. Now, we have two choices. We could go to the left, or we could go to the right. Which way is best?”

  * * *

  TO TAKE THE LEFT PATH, CLICK HERE.

  TO TAKE THE RIGHT PATH, CLICK HERE.

  * * *

  WE CAREFULLY FOLLOW the maze. It reminds me of the corn mazes that Mom takes me and Eliza to every Halloween, only this is a lot harder and a lot larger, and we have to move a lot faster. We’re practically running around the thick stone walls. But I guess those corn mazes were good practice, because we reach Exit Three, no problem.

  Exit Three leads into a small cave with stalagmites and stalactites. I can’t really remember which one’s which, but they’re sticking up from the ground and hanging down from the ceiling. There’s a weird glow to the hall, like it’s being lit by fireflies or glowworms. A drip-drip-drip sound echoes, and it smells musty, like my sports socks.

  Eventually, the cave gets smaller, and I have a sinking feeling in my gut that we’re about to hit a dead end.

  Frank crawls toward the back of the cave.

  “Frank,” Eliza calls. “Come back! Otto might be—”

  “Boo!” shouts Otto, emerging from the shadows up ahead.

  “Eeeeeeeeeeeek!” we scream together.

  He’s holding the treasure chest and looking around the cave shiftily.

  “Get out of my way, kids. I’m not playing around here.”

  “Neither are we!” I say. “Hand over the treasure!”

  “Never! Now move!”

  * * *

  TO KEEP BLOCKING THE PATH OUT OF THE CAVE, CLICK HERE.

  TO MOVE OUT OF THE WAY, CLICK HERE.

  * * *

  I DECODE THAT cipher in record time! With pride, I shout, “Forty-six!”

  KER-THUMP.

  The net drops a little, dangerously close to the alligators. They smack their jaws together, and I swear drool comes out of their mouths.

  “FORTY-SIX!” I scream. “FORTY-SIX!!!”

  The net begins to sway, like a swinging hammock. Back and forth over the alligator pit.

  I haven’t been this nervous since my last math test. No, wait—since the time I was sent to the principal’s office for stepping on Sherri Fischer’s diorama (it was an accident, but no one believed me). No, wait—since the last time I was at bat with two outs and bases loaded.

  But honestly, none of that even compares to possibly being eaten by alligators.

  Air swishes through the net as it swings higher and higher. I lace my fingers through the holes between the rope. Then, with one GIANT swing, the net dumps us on a ledge, high up on the ragged, rocky wall.

  Eliza brushes herself off, watching as the net sinks back down to the pit where the alligators are. “Let’s get out of here.”

  “WEEEEEEEE! Let’s do that again!” Frank says. He almost leaps off the ledge back onto the net, but Eliza yanks him by his shirt. As she tries to restrain her brother, I hug the solid, rocky wall opposite the steep edge and the alligator pit. There’s a path, and only one direction to walk.

  The crooked trail snakes between tall walls, and the space to walk is so narrow that we have to squeeze through real tight. Thankfully, the sounds of the alligators get fainter as we walk forward, and we eventually find ourselves walking into a circular room, facing a solid, curved wall with four doors—one hot pink, one bright blue, one deep green, and one dark red. Above the doors, someone has painted a message on the wall.

  ON EACH DOOR, THERE IS A SENTENCE.

  THREE OF THE SENTENCES ARE FALSE, AND ONLY ONE IS TRUE.

  WHERE IS THE TREASURE?

  Eliza and I hop between the pink door, the blue door, the green door, and the red door, reading all the sentences.

  “Three of these sentences are false.” Eliza hums, a smile twisting at the corner of her mouth. “And only one of these sentences is true.”

  “A logic puzzle,” I groan.

  “A logic puzzle!” Eliza squeals.

  * * *

  TO GO THROUGH THE PINK DOOR, CLICK HERE.

  TO GO THROUGH THE BLUE DOOR, CLICK HERE.

  TO GO THROUGH THE GREEN DOOR, CLICK HERE.

  TO GO THROUGH THE RED DOOR, CLICK HERE.

  * * *

  “HIDE!” I WHISPER at Eliza, and I gesture at the door in panic. “Please!”

  Eliza doesn’t look thrilled, but she crawls under the desk. I look for another spot to hide—but there isn’t much else in the room. So I decide to crouch behind the trash can. Frank rolls behind a row of books on the bookshelf.

  Not a second later, Smythe thumps into the study. He breathes heavily through his nostrils, while I’m frozen like a statue.

  Thump.

  I can’t panic. Stay calm. Eliza is still, but Frank fidgets in his hiding spot. We are dead!

  Except . . . Smythe turns around and walks away, his footsteps growing fainter and fainter until I can’t hear them anymore.

  “Phew!” I say, standing up. I tiptoe across the room and lock the glass door of the study. “I can’t believe that worked! We did it!”

  “You did it,” Eliza says.

  “I did it!” Frank says.

  “No you didn’t.”

  “Well, I did something,” Frank says. “Otherwise, why else would I be your boss?”

  I roll my eyes. “Frank, you’re not anyone’s boss.”

  “I AM THE BOSS!” Frank shouts. “I AM, I AM, I AM!”

  “Frank, please! Be quiet!”

  “Aha!” Smythe bellows from the doorway. “I knew you were hiding in here! Now out, out, out!” He runs to the glass door and jiggles the knob. “Unlock this! Now!”

&nbs
p; I shake my head.

  Smythe bangs on the door and pulls on the doorknob. His face is red, and his droopy eyes bulge. “When I get in there, you kids are in so much trouble!”

  Eliza flinches every time the doorframe rattles. But then she swallows her fear and says, “If you don’t let us poke around, we’re only going to assume you have something to hide. Don’t incriminate yourself, Smythe.”

  Smythe stops knocking. “If you make a mess, you’re done. No second chance.” His nostrils flare. “I’m going to get the key, and I will be back to unlock this door.” Then he turns on his heels and clomps down the hall.

  Eliza sighs when he leaves. “Was that a yes or no to letting us investigate?”

  “I don’t know,” I say. “But we better hurry. Let’s look around Mr. LeCavalier’s study. There has to be something to find in here.”

  “Stop being bossy,” Frank says. “Remember, I’m the boss. No . . . wait! I want to be the captain.”

  “Okay.” I sigh.

  “NO! NOT OKAY! IT’S AYE AYE, CAPTAIN!”

  “Aye aye, Captain,” Eliza and I say in monotone mumbles.

  “I CAN’T HEAR YOU!”

  “AYE AYE, CAPTAIN!” we shout.

  “And as your captain, I command you look up high on the bookshelf!”

  I really wanted to look inside the desk drawers, to maybe read some papers. I don’t know whether to let Frank get his way right now . . . or to try to get my own way.

  I look at Eliza to get her opinion, but she isn’t even paying attention. She’s busy pulling books off the shelf and moving them around. “What are you doing?” I ask.

  She smiles guiltily at me. “Just . . . rearranging.”

  “You can’t rearrang—”

  “But the spines of these books are upside down,” she groans. “It’s unorganized, unmatching, un . . . unbearable!”

  “Well, if you stop that for a second, help me decide where to search.”

  “I ALREADY TOLD YOU,” Frank whines.

  “I can’t stop mid–organization session!” Eliza says, scandalized.

  I guess it’s up to me.

  * * *

  TO SEARCH THE DESK DRAWERS, CLICK HERE.

  TO SEARCH UP HIGH ON THE BOOKSHELF, CLICK HERE.

  * * *

  I DECIDE TO keep the information about Ivy a secret for now. Sometimes it’s better for the investigation not to let anyone know what you know. Mom always says that when she pores over her case files at dinner. Thinking of her, bent over her papers with a smile, makes me worried. Two days of investigating, and we’re no closer to saving her agency. What if we fail? What if her company goes bankrupt?

  “What’s wrong, Carlos?” Eliza says.

  “What? Nothing!” I say too quickly. “Why?”

  Eliza gives me a funny look, but she doesn’t say anything. We walk out of Guinevere LeCavalier’s house in silence.

  “Are you thinking about Ivy?” Eliza asks.

  “She’s guilty, right?” Frank says, but then he doesn’t wait for the answer. He runs into the middle of the lawn and starts rolling around.

  “We don’t know enough,” Eliza says to me. We both sit down on Guinevere’s front step. “I think we need some really hard evidence. Until then, I’m not sure we can know for sure whether Ivy’s the one behind all this—”

  “Did you say something about Ivy?” Otto says, popping out from around the house.

  I stand up. “How long were you listening?”

  Otto’s smile wavers. “Just long enough to hear you say something about Ivy. Should I be concerned about her?”

  * * *

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

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

  * * *

  THERE’S A BIG wooden door at the end of a long hallway leading to Smythe’s room. And on that door is a sign that says STAFF ONLY. The door is locked, but—weirdly enough—there’s a keyboard under the doorknob.

  Frank goes over to type something in, but I hold him back.

  “We can’t just try random passwords.”

  Frank deflates, and his lip juts out in an enormous pout. I put my hand on his shoulder and look him square in the eyes. “Don’t worry. If we crack this access code, you can do all the sneaking you want in Smythe’s room.” I pause. “But how do we find the password?”

  I run my hand across the door, but it feels normal. Eliza’s feeling along the wall, and Frank’s searching on the floor. We don’t really know what we’re looking for. But there must be a way in.

  I touch the hinges. “Hey!” I say, leaning in for a closer look. One of the hinges is a little loose, and wedged in there is a small scroll. “Frank, I need your tiny fingers.”

  Frank yelps in delight and sticks his fingers into the hollow space in the door hinge. After a minute of prying, he finally pulls out a yellowed piece of curled-up paper.

  HINK PINKS

  Hink pinks are one-syllable words that rhyme. I shall give you the clue, and you will come up with the hink pink.

  For example:

  A heavy feline: FAT CAT

  Steak stealer: BEEF THIEF

  Sobbing without any tears: DRY CRY

  Got it?

  Now, to get through this door, you’ll have to figure out these hink pinks:

  1. Depressed father: [______] ______

  2. A painting that makes you think: ______ [______]

  3. Sky-colored sneaker: [______] ______

  4. A bald rabbit: ______ [______]

  5. Thief of literature: [______] ______

  Take the highlighted words, put them in alphabetical order, and you will have your passcode into the servants’ quarters. Good luck!

  WSL

  “WSL?” I say.

  “Winston Something-something LeCavalier,” Eliza replies. “Oh, this is just like Guinevere LeCavalier said.” She beams. “To get to Smythe’s room, we’ll have to get through this hink pink!”

  “Do you think we can?”

  “Why not? Everyone’s good at one-syllable rhymes!”

  “YOU TOO!” Frank shouts.

  “Yes, yes, very good, Frank,” Eliza says, patting him on the head.

  I stare at the hink pinks and try to figure out the password.

  * * *

  TO ENTER THE PASSWORD ART BLUE BOOK HARE SAD, CLICK HERE.

  TO ENTER THE PASSWORD ART BAD BLUE HARE READ, CLICK HERE.

  * * *

  “YOU SEEM SAD about your daughter, Ivy,” I say. “Are you upset she’s living in Whatsitcalled with her husband?”

  “Wichita,” Eliza whispers.

  “Bless you!” says Frank.

  Guinevere LeCavalier frowns. “Of course I’m sad. I miss my Ivy.”

  “Why haven’t you seen each other in five years?” Eliza says. “That’s an awfully long time not to visit your beloved daughter—and for her not to visit you. Are you fighting?”

  “W-w-what?” Guinevere splutters. “Who do you . . . how do you—how dare you—”

  “HOW DARE YOU?” Frank screams, standing up on his chair. “HOW DARE YOU AND YOU AND ALLLLLL OF YOU!” He beats his hands on his chest.

  Guinevere looks at Frank like he’s crazy. (Which he is.)

  Okay, maybe I should play peacekeeper.

  I hold up my hands soothingly. “Apologies, Mrs. LeCavalier. What we meant was, does Ivy have a reason to want to threaten you?”

  “No! Of course not! Ivy and I are on great terms!” Guinevere says, clutching her necklaces. Beads of sweat form on her forehead, and a kicking instinct in my gut tells me she’s lying. But I can’t accuse her of lying without making her mad. And I should never upset the client.

  But I don’t think Eliza knows that rule, because she keeps nudging Guinevere. “But Ivy could be threatening you. Logically. Since she knows about the treasure.”

  Guinevere’s eyes dart toward the door, as if she’s hoping Smythe will burst in and interrupt. “Ivy would never threaten
my life!” she howls. “Those death threats were gruesome and vulgar and uncouth! Besides, many other people know about the treasure as well!”

  * * *

  TO ASK GUINEVERE WHO ELSE KNOWS ABOUT THE TREASURE, CLICK HERE.

  TO ASK GUINEVERE ABOUT THE GRUESOME DEATH THREATS, CLICK HERE.

  * * *

  “WHAT KIND OF revenge do you have in mind?” I ask.

  “Oh, it has to be something very public and very embarrassing. Hmmm . . . what if I switch her meal at the next charity ball? So instead of lobster, she’ll be eating filet mignon! Or I could switch out her speech with a rap song. Or perhaps I could steal her shoes while she’s dancing and replace them with doll-sized shoes. Or clown shoes.” Patty giggles.

  I look at Eliza, and we both wince. No offense to Patty Schnozz, but her revenge ideas sound kind of lame. Maybe grown-ups just don’t understand good pranks.

  And someone with such dumb prank ideas doesn’t seem capable of sending death threats—at least in my professional opinion. Maybe we should just end the interview now. Though, I guess I should see if she knows anything else. . . .

  * * *

  ASK PATTY IF SHE KNOWS WHO ELSE HAS A PROBLEM WITH GUINEVERE. CLICK HERE.

  * * *