The Famous Stanley Kidnapping Case

by Zilpha Keatley Snyder

  As far as David was concerned, being in love made Amanda harder to get along with in some ways, and a little easier in others. On the one hand, she started getting up in the morning without having to be called half a dozen times—but she also started shutting herself in the bathroom for hours to fool with her face and hair, so nobody else could get in, even in an emergency. And because Hilary was such a math nut, she started getting A’s and B’s in math, after having flunked it on principle most of her life. But as far as her temper went, it was mostly just more unpredictable. One minute she would be so sweet and friendly you’d hardly know her, and the next she’d bite someone’s head off for practically no reason at all.

  The only reason David sometimes felt sorry that they were going to the American school was because of Marzia. After school started, Marzia didn’t come to the villa so often, and when she did come, she didn’t spend any time with the Stanleys. David wasn’t sure why. It might have been because she was angry at David and Amanda for deciding not to go to her school; but if that was it, it probably was only part of it. David felt sure the main reason she was staying away was that Amanda and Hilary were spending so much time together on the way to school every day. Marzia probably thought Hilary was definitely Amanda’s boyfriend now, and there wasn’t any use for her to try to get his attention anymore.

  If that was it, and David was pretty sure it was, it was too bad someone didn’t set her straight. But he knew better than to tell Janie to tell Marzia that Hilary still hadn’t even gotten around to noticing that Amanda had a crush on him—because if he did, Janie would be sure to tell Amanda that he’d said so, and Amanda would be furious. And they’d been in the same family long enough for him to have learned that you didn’t go around making Amanda furious on purpose, unless of course you really wanted to die young or something. So until he learned enough Italian to tell Marzia himself, she was just going to have to go on thinking that Hilary and Amanda were doing a Romeo and Juliet every day in the back seat of the car.

  So that was the way things were for several weeks. Dad did research at the university, Molly painted, the twins played around the villa, Janie went to school in the village and came back speaking more Italian every day and knowing the names and ages and life histories of nearly everyone in the village, and David and Amanda were having what Dad called a once-in-a-lifetime educational experience in Florence. And then, in the middle of October, Dad and Molly decided to spend a few days in Rome.

  ten

  The trip to Rome was a birthday present for Molly, and it was because of Olivia Thatcher that Dad and Molly went alone. The idea got started one evening when Molly was talking about how she was dying to see the Sistine Chapel, and Olivia offered to baby-sit so Dad could take Molly on a kidless trip to Rome as a birthday present. They were all sitting around the fire in the huge living room in the Stanleys’ part of the villa. When Olivia made the suggestion, Molly pretended to faint. Then she jumped up and ran around to Olivia and hugged her and kissed her on both cheeks and said, “The poor woman’s out of her mind, but don’t think I’m not going to take advantage of her. When can we leave, Jeff?”

  Everyone laughed, and Olivia said she was serious and it wouldn’t be any trouble at all and she’d really enjoy it. She loved having the twins around, and everyone else would be away at school most of the time.

  “How do you feel about this offer?” Dad asked Andrew, and Andrew said it was fine with him.

  “I’ll run over and ask the Morehouses if they can drive every day next week,” Amanda said. As she ran out of the room, all the adults raised their eyebrows and grinned about Amanda’s crush on Hilary.

  So it was all arranged. Because the Thatchers actually lived in the same building, the Stanley kids could all sleep in their own rooms at night, and David and Amanda would be responsible for everything in the morning, making breakfast and getting themselves and Janie off to school. But in the evening they would all have dinner with the Thatchers, and Olivia and Andrew would be in charge of settling arguments and giving permission for any out-of-the-ordinary projects. “Such as the adoption of stray polar bears and whether or not to build a spaceship in the living room,” Dad said.

  “I think Livy and I could handle that lot,” Andrew said, “but on the close ones, we’re apt to get a hung jury.”

  “In that case,” Dad said, “say no. With this bunch no is usually the safest answer.” But that was just kidding, Dad told David and Amanda later. “Actually,” Dad said on Monday morning when he and Molly were getting ready to leave, “I have a great deal of faith in your ability to take care of yourselves and the little kids and to look after things around the house while we’re gone.”

  Although Dad and Molly left early in the morning, Janie and the twins woke up in time to see them off. Molly hugged everyone two or three times each and told Janie to eat enough and not be fussy about what she ate, and Esther not to eat too much, and everybody to be careful and do exactly what Andrew and Olivia told them to. Then the kids all ran out to the terrace wall to watch and wave as the car passed below them and wound its way down the dirt road toward the village and beyond it to the autostrada that led to Rome.

  Perhaps it was just the novelty of being on their own, but everything went surprisingly well that morning. David and Amanda made an extra big breakfast, cleaned up the kitchen, and got Janie off to school and the twins next door to the Thatchers’ without a single argument. And that evening at the Thatchers’ things continued to go well. Everyone was on his and her best behavior at dinner. Janie ate what was put on her plate, and Esther, who wasn’t supposed to ask for seconds, didn’t. Afterwards David and Amanda helped Andrew clean up the kitchen, because Olivia had done the cooking, and then they all sat around in the studio and talked until it was time for the twins to go to bed.

  Back in their own part of the villa, David and Amanda flipped a coin to see who would take the first turn putting the twins to bed—and David lost. He wondered afterwards if everything would have turned out differently if he had won. But the way it did happen was that David said, “Heads,” and the coin came down tails, so he went up and helped the twins with their baths. When he came back downstairs about twenty minutes later, he could tell right away that something out of the ordinary had happened. Janie was waiting for him in the door of the living room.

  “Amanda got a letter,” she said as soon as David was in the room. Amanda was on her knees arranging some logs in the fireplace, but she didn’t turn around or say anything.

  “A letter?” David asked. “When?”

  “Just now,” Janie said. “Just a few minutes ago. Somebody knocked on the door, and I got there first and there wasn’t anybody there, except there was a letter lying right there in front of the door and it said Amanda on it.”

  Amanda muttered something about a blabbermouth and went on fooling with the fire.

  “Who was it from?” David asked her.

  She stood up finally, dusting off her hands, and leaned against the mantel watching the fire. Her face was still turned away. “Not that it’s anyone’s business,” she said. “But it happened to be from Hilary.”

  “From Hilary?”

  “Yes from Hilary,” Amanda said, and it was obvious that she was angry. David couldn’t think why—until it suddenly dawned on him that it was because he had sounded so surprised.

  Still too surprised to start using his head he asked, “What did he say?” The moment he said it, he knew he’d made another mistake. If she wanted him to know she’d tell him and if she didn’t she wouldn’t, and asking her was the best way to make sure she didn’t.

  “That,” Amanda said, “is my business.”

  David nodded. It figured. It was cold in the living room, and it was going to take a long time before the fire that Amanda had built would start making a difference. “Why are you lighting a fire now?” he asked. “It’s almost time to go to bed.”

  “I have some homework to do,” Amanda said. “And I want to do it down
here. Any more questions?”

  “You don’t need to be sarcastic,” David said. “It just seemed like a waste of wood to start one so late.” The heater in Amanda’s small bedroom would have heated it up in a few minutes. He shrugged and walked to the long narrow windows that looked out over the front terrace. By cupping his hands to shut out the light from the room, he could see into the night.

  The night looked cold, too. The October weather had been perfect lately, warm and clear, but now suddenly there was a faint hint of winter in the air. Beyond the window a nearly full moon was turning the terrace into a sleek, silvery meadow, tiger-striped by the long thin shadows of the cypresses. Everything was cold and still and mysteriously lifeless.

  Up until that moment, to be left more or less on their own for five days had seemed fun and exciting. But now, suddenly, David wished Dad and Molly were back. Behind him, Amanda’s fire had begun to flare up, and its reflection flickered in the window like a witch’s fire at the edge of the forest. Where he stood, near the windows, it was still cold and damp. He shivered.

  “I’m going up and read in bed,” he said. “You’d better go to bed, too, Janie.”

  “I still have half an hour,” Janie said. “Can I stay down here with you, Amanda?”

  Amanda shrugged. “If you keep your mouth shut,” she said. “And I mean shut.”

  Janie stared at Amanda for a minute and then, obviously deciding it wouldn’t be worth the effort, she sighed and followed David upstairs.

  In bed with a book, David thought for a while about Amanda and the letter before he started to read. He couldn’t imagine why Hilary would have written to her. He considered the possibility that it had something to do with the ride to school in the morning. The Morehouses were supposed to be driving, and maybe something had gone wrong with their car? But, in that case, why didn’t he just knock and come in and say so. As for its being a love note or something like that—it just didn’t seem possible. After all, David rode to Florence and back every day with Amanda and Hilary and if Hilary was the least bit interested in Amanda, he certainly deserved an Oscar for the way he was acting as if he didn’t know she existed.

  He gave up trying to figure it out and started to read, but the book wasn’t too interesting and his eyes were beginning to feel heavy. The next thing he knew it must have been at least an hour later and he was being awakened by having his head banged against the headboard of the bed. He’d fallen asleep still propped up in a sitting position, and now Janie was kneeling beside him, shaking him to so hard that his head was jerking back and forth, and her fingernails were digging into his shoulders. The first thing he felt was angry.

  “Stop it, Janie,” he said. “You’re scratching me. What’s the matter?”

  “It’s Amanda,” Janie said. “I think she’s eloping with Hilary.”

  David was still a little angry about being scratched or he probably would have laughed. As it was, he just put his hand over his eyes and sighed. “Janie,” he said at last, “you are out of your so-called mind. Amanda and Hilary are not eloping. What makes you think they’re eloping?”

  “Because,” Janie said. She was teetering on her knees on the edge of the bed, and her eyes were absolutely enormous with excitement. She was dressed in her pajamas and bathrobe so she’d had time to get ready for bed before—before whatever it was that had given her such a crazy idea had occurred. David wondered briefly if she might have been asleep and dreamed it.

  “Because,” Janie said again, “I was talking to the twins a few minutes ago—” She paused, glancing at David sideways. She wasn’t supposed to keep the twins awake past their bedtime. “—because they couldn’t sleep.” (I’ll bet they couldn’t, David thought. Not with Janie talking to them, they couldn’t.) “—and I heard something, and I snuck out and Amanda was going down the stairs with her coat on and everything. So I followed her, and she went downstairs and out the front door and across the terrace towards the stairs to the passeggiata.”

  Suddenly David was wide awake. Of course Janie was wrong about Amanda and Hilary eloping, but what on earth was she up to, sneaking out of the house at this hour of the night? He got out of bed, pulled on his pants over his pajama bottoms, and got into his shoes and bathrobe, while Janie circled around him, tiptoeing with excitement and jabbering away like an excited chipmunk about Amanda and Hilary and eloping and Romeo and Juliet and all kinds of nonsense. When he was dressed and starting down the stairs, she ran after him calling, “What are you going to do? What are you going to do, David?”

  He realized then that he hadn’t the slightest idea. “I don’t know,” he said. “I’m just going to look around a little. You go back to bed, and I’ll come and tell you about it in a few minutes. Okay?”

  When Janie started arguing that she wanted to go along and David said she couldn’t, she gave up so quickly that he should have been suspicious. He probably would have been if he hadn’t had his mind so much on other things. As soon as he was out of the door, he started running; he was halfway across the first grape vine terrace when an idea occurred to him, and he turned back towards Il Fienile.

  Mrs. Morehouse was always talking about how Hilary did homework and math problems until eleven o’clock every night—so he should be at his desk right now—unless, of course, Janie was right, which David didn’t believe for a minute. He’d been in Hilary’s room and remembered that his desk sat right by the window—so it should be easy to tell if he were still there or not. Sure enough, as soon as David rounded the corner of the house, he could see that the desk lamp was on in Hilary’s room, but he couldn’t quite see the level at which a head, bent over a math book, would be. But if he went back a little way. . . . A moment later he had run back across the courtyard, climbed up on the wall—and there he was. Old Knobby Knees was just where his mother said he always was, scrunched down over some fascinating math problem.

  David was climbing down off the wall, feeling rather pleased with himself—just call me David Sherlock Stanley—when it suddenly hit him that the case wasn’t exactly solved yet. The big mystery, in fact, was still as mysterious as ever: where was Amanda, and why? And, if Hilary hadn’t written the letter that had been left on the front step—which certainly had something to do with Amanda’s disappearance—who had? It was right then, standing there by the wall in the cold moonlight, that he began to look at the whole thing very differently, and to see how bad it really looked. And then to make matters worse, a couple of words popped into his head as if out of nowhere. The words were “molto pericolo.” The witch doctor had said that Amanda was in molto pericolo. A prickling shiver ran up his spine and into the back of his head. A minute later he was running again, back around the house and across the moonlit terrace in the direction of the passeggiata.

  It was dark on the path under the trees, and the ruts and tree roots made it impossible to run without tripping. Stopping every few yards to listen, he hurried along the path as fast as he dared, slipping and stumbling on the uneven surface. The first urn scared him half to death, materializing from black nothingness into a ghostly white shape with startling suddenness. Warning himself to be ready for the second one, he stumbled on for such a long time that he began to think he’d somehow missed it, before it finally appeared—a vague blur of light that gradually firmed into an urn and pedestal. He was only a few steps past the second urn when fear exploded, jolting him off his feet and jangling out to the ends of his fingers and toes. Somebody had screamed. He’d already turned to run back the way he’d come when he realized that the scream was familiar.

  Somehow, without actually deciding to do it, he found himself turning again and running—toward where something terrible was happening to Amanda. He was still running when he reached the picnic terrace. Moonlight was flooding into the circular area around the stone table. He could clearly see the table—the benches, the water trough, but nothing else. No one was there—but someone was not far away. It sounded as if a lot of people were just beyond the clearing, tra
mpling around in the underbrush on the steep slope that led down to the road. He could hear feet thudding, brush crackling, and voices muttering unintelligibly. Standing near the table, his heart thundering against his ribs, he tried to think what to do. The struggle was gradually moving down the slope, and no one seemed aware of his presence. He could still have turned and run and perhaps have gotten away—but then Amanda screamed again, and without stopping to think of the consequences, he started to yell.

  “Stop! Help! Help, police!” he shouted. He was still shouting when someone charged back up the slope and into the clearing. David let out one last yell and began to run. He ran around the stone table, missed the entrance to the path in the dim light, and started around again. Heavy footsteps pounded close behind him, and out of the corner of his eye he glimpsed a dark, shadowy figure. Realizing that he was the faster on the tight turns around the table, he kept circling, afraid to break for the path. They’d circled several times when the noisy clomping stopped suddenly—and David braked and turned back, barely in time to avoid running right into his pursuer’s arms.

  For a moment then they faced each other across the table, and for the first time David really saw him—a man with no head. In the tiniest fraction of a second, a whole stream of ideas ran through his mind. “This can’t be real—no one runs around without a head—it must be a nightmare—just a nightmare, and in a moment I’ll wake up.” But then the figure moved slightly, the light changed, and David saw that in stead of being headless, the man was hooded. His head was covered by a tight-fitting black hood, which had been invisible in the darkness. But now the head was visible—a dark oval, blank and faceless except for two eyeholes looking, in the dim light, like enormous round eyes.