“You’re right,” said Kristy. “It doesn’t matter at all. There are too many other strange things going on. That’s why it’s time to find Mr. Ronald Hennessey and pay him a visit. Any volunteers?” She raised her own hand.
We all looked at each other. Slowly, Charlotte put up her hand, so I did, too. I had to stick with her. After all, I was her baby-sitter. Then Claud’s hand crept up, too.
“That’s enough,” said Kristy. “We don’t want to overwhelm him. He might be sick or something.”
Dawn, Mary Anne, and Mallory all looked relieved. Charlotte, Kristy, and Claud looked terrified, and I’m sure I did, too.
It was Tuesday night, after our emergency club meeting, and Mallory and Dawn were sitting at the Pikes’. I really do like being an only child, but sometimes when I hear about an evening at the Pikes’ I get a little jealous. It must be fun to have a built-in gang of friends around all the time. The Pikes are: Byron, Adam, and Jordan, the triplets, who are ten; nine-year-old Vanessa; eight-year-old Nicky; seven-year-old Margo; five-year-old Claire. And, of course, Mal, Dawn’s co-baby-sitter.
Dawn arrived at six-twenty, just as Mr. and Mrs. Pike were about to leave. She’d known when she accepted the job that she and Mal would have to give the kids dinner, but she’d forgotten what dinner hour at the Pike house can be like.
Mr. and Mrs. Pike are very smart about raising a big family. They know that some things just aren’t worth making a fuss about, not with eight kids to deal with. For example, mealtimes. Since some kids will eat anything while others are fussy eaters, and some will eat a ton while others just pick, the Pikes have decided not to try to make many rules about what the kids do and don’t have to eat. Especially when they have a sitter. When Mal is in charge, she usually just opens up the fridge and stands back. The kids rummage around, and each one finds whatever they want to eat. They call it a “smorgasbord.”
That’s exactly what happened on Tuesday night. Dawn did her best to help out, but she had a hard time dealing with some of the choices the kids made. Remember, Dawn is a true health-food fanatic. So how do you think she felt when Byron pulled out the bologna and a jar of grape jelly and began to make a sandwich?
“Are you sure that’s what you want, Byron?” she asked faintly.
“Sure! It’s my favorite,” he said, carefully spreading the right amount of jelly on the bread.
When he’d finished, Dawn looked around. There was Nicky, holding a jar of peanut butter.
“Okay, Nicky. Peanut butter and jelly, right?” Dawn asked. She was relieved. This was a little more normal. But “normal” was not what Nicky had in mind.
“Nope. Peanut butter and bologna,” he said. Dawn made a face, but she also made the sandwich. If that’s what he wanted …
Adam and Jordan both wanted SpaghettiOs, but they refused to let Mal heat them up. They wanted to eat them right out of the can. She convinced them to at least put their servings on plates.
Margo just wanted bread and butter for dinner. She’s in a picky phase, and there are very few foods she’ll eat.
Dawn asked Vanessa what she was having.
“A fried egg will do the trick. Butter the pan, so it won’t stick,” said Vanessa.
Mal groaned. Was Vanessa, who longed to be a poet, going to drive them crazy by speaking in rhyme all night?
While Dawn fried the egg, Mal helped Claire get her dinner. She wanted cereal, but it had to be in a certain bowl (the one with Big Bird on it) with a certain spoon (the one with the red handle). The milk had to be poured precisely so that it came right up to the border painted inside the bowl, and no further. Finally the bowl of cereal was just right, and Claire carried it to the table.
“Thank you, Mallory-silly-billy-goo-goo!” she called over her shoulder.
“You’re welcome, Claire,” said Mal, rolling her eyes. It looked like Claire was in her “silly” mood again.
Mal made herself a ham sandwich, while Dawn checked the fridge for anything resembling health food. Finally she turned up a couple of carrots, a container of yogurt, and some wheat germ left over from one of Mal’s baking experiments.
“This’ll do just fine,” she said. “Let’s sit down.”
There was a mad rush for the “good” seats. Claire had already claimed Mrs. Pike’s usual spot, and Margo sat next to her. The triplets jostled each other, tripping and blocking as they competed for Mr. Pike’s seat. While they were occupied, Nicky slipped into it. Vanessa drifted in and seated herself daintily in Adam’s usual spot but was forced to move almost immediately when he sat in her lap, pretending not to see her.
Finally, everyone was seated. Dinner had begun.
“Want some SpaghettiOs, Nicky?” Adam asked.
“Sure!” he answered. His face lit up. His brothers usually only paid attention to him when they were teasing him.
“You do?” asked Jordan. “Don’t you know they’re made out of worms?”
Nicky’s face fell and he went back to eating his sandwich. Byron quietly offered him a bite of his sandwich, but Nicky looked at it closely and shook his head. “Worms” had reminded him of something.
“The worms crawl in, the worms crawl out, the worms play pinochle on your snout,” he sang, looking very cheerful again.
“Ew!” cried Claire. She dropped her spoon into her cereal. Milk flew in all directions.
“C’mon, Nicky. We’re trying to eat,” said Mallory. She reached over with her napkin and wiped up some milk.
“Okay, how about this one?” he asked. “I’m Popeye the sailor man, I live in a garbage can,” he started.
Adam reached around Nicky and tapped him on the shoulder. Nicky stopped singing and whipped his head around to see Jordan, looking innocent. When he turned back to check on Adam, Jordan reached around to tap him on the other shoulder. Nicky looked like a spectator at a tennis match as Adam and Jordan took turns.
Dawn tried to distract them. “What shall we do tonight, guys?” she asked.
Everybody spoke up at once. Claire wanted to play Candy Land, the only game she’s old enough for. Margo thought that sounded fine, too. The triplets voted for volleyball, except for Adam, who wanted to play dodgeball. Nicky thought it would be fun to build a tent out of blankets and play Indians.
It was Vanessa, though, who came up with an idea that everyone liked. “Let’s put on a play!” she said.
“Yea!”
“Let’s do Batman!” said Byron. He loves to be the Joker.
“No, Snow White!” said Claire.
Dawn thought quickly. What could they do that would please everyone? “How about The Wizard of Oz?” she said, remembering what Kristy had said about how much her brothers and sisters liked that movie.
“Great choice, Dawn,” said Mallory.
“I get to be the Scarecrow!” yelled Jordan.
“I get to be the Cowardly Lion!” yelled Adam.
“I get to be the Princess!” yelled Margo.
“Princess?” asked Nicky. “I don’t remember any princess in that movie.”
“There’s always a princess, right, Mallory?” Margo looked at Mal for support.
“Sorry, not in this story,” said Mallory. “But you can be the Good Witch. That’s the closest thing to a princess in this play. Anyway, let’s clear the table and clean up the kitchen before we get started. And anyone who’s got homework has to do it first.”
When everyone was ready, they had a quick meeting to assign the rest of the parts, and then everyone ran off to put together costumes.
The house was a little quieter for a few minutes while the actors and actresses dressed up. Downstairs, Mal and Dawn looked at each other and smiled.
“Well, at least we got through dinner,” Dawn said.
Just then, the triplets slid down the banister, one after the other. Adam, as the Cowardly Lion, wore a yellow fringed bedspread tied around his shoulders. Jordan had on old jeans and a flannel shirt. He looked pretty good as the Scarecrow. Byron was the Tin Woodsman
, and his was the hardest costume to put together. He’d found a funnel to wear as a hat, and he was carrying a toy hatchet.
The rest of the cast gathered, and Dawn and Mal were assigned parts, too. Dawn was the Wicked Witch, and Mal was the Wizard. By the time everyone was onstage, they realized that there were no people left over to be an audience, but by then it was too late.
Vanessa, as Dorothy, carried her schoolbook bag instead of a picnic basket. Nicky, who was playing Toto, trotted along beside her. Vanessa pretended to step out of a house. “Come on out, Toto, close the door. We’re not in Kansas anymore,” she rhymed.
“Woof, woof,” said Nicky.
Claire did a short rendition of the Munchkin song, with lots of added “silly-billy-goo-goos.”
Then Byron stepped out. “Hi, Dorothy! We’ll come with you. Don’t cry. Here are my friends, the Scarecrow and the Cowardly Lion.”
“Oh, good,” said Vanessa, forgetting to rhyme for once. “But how will we get to the Emerald City?”
“I’ll take you in my spaceship,” said Margo, as the Good Witch.
“We’re off to see the Lizard!” sang Jordan.
This was getting a little off the track, but Dawn and Mal hid their smiles and went along with it. Dawn made a truly scary Wicked Witch until Claire started to cry. Then Dawn used “magic” to turn herself into another good witch.
Halfway down the Yellow Brick Road, Nicky got bored with playing Toto. After all, he had no lines except for, “Woof, woof.” “Want to hear me count to one thousand by twos?” he asked. Nobody answered — they were all busy just then — so he just started in. “Two, four, six …”
At the end of the play, Mal, as the Wizard, solved everyone’s problems. She declared that it was bedtime in Oz. Nicky had gotten up to 782 by then, but he was winding down and didn’t insist on finishing.
The cast members gave themselves a big round of applause, since there was no audience to do it for them. Then Dawn took Margo, Claire, and Nicky upstairs to get ready for bed. Mal and the older kids tidied up the living room, which looked like that tornado really had been through it.
By the time Dawn got the younger Pikes to bed, Mr. and Mrs. Pike were home. Dawn and Mallory shook hands solemnly and congratulated each other on making it through the evening. Then Mr. Pike walked Dawn home. She breathed a huge sigh of relief as she entered her quiet old house.
Charlotte and I got home from school at around the same time on Wednesday afternoon. I could see right away that she was as nervous as I was about going to see Mr. Hennessey.
“Are you sure you want to go, Charlotte?” I asked. “You don’t have to do this, you know.” I wondered if this thing was completely out of hand. Was I so involved with this mystery that I was forgetting to be a responsible baby-sitter?
But Charlotte, although she was a little scared, was also very determined to do everything she could to help solve the mystery. There was no way she was going to quit now.
We headed over to Claud’s, where we’d planned to meet Kristy, who arrived at the same time we did. Claudia opened the door before we even had a chance to knock. It seemed as if we were all eager to get going, so we headed off to Stoneybrook Manor.
It took us awhile to get there — it was a longer walk than I’d thought. We didn’t talk much along the way. I guess we were each busy with our own thoughts. Finally we stood on the sidewalk in front of the nursing home. It was a new-ish building, but it had a nice homey feeling about it. It was all on one story, and there were lots of pretty plants and flowers along the front and bordering the path to the main entrance. A few elderly men sat in wheelchairs on a patio area to the left, playing checkers.
After a few minutes passed with all of us just standing there, Kristy took the lead. “C’mon, you guys, let’s go in,” she said, and she walked up the path. The rest of us followed her. She stopped and waited for us at the front door. We walked in together, looking around the lobby. How were we supposed to find Mr. Hennessey? Then a young man stood up from the desk where he’d been sitting. “How may I help you?” he asked.
That was when I noticed the sign that a trailing plant had hidden: RECEPTION DESK. None of us said anything for a moment. I thought the man might tell us to get lost when we told him what we wanted. After all, we were just a bunch of kids. Finally, Claud spoke up.
“We’re here to see a Mr. Ronald Hennessey. I understand that he is a resident here,” she said. I think she was trying to sound like her heroine, Nancy Drew. The “girl detective” usually talks like that when she’s on a case.
The man behind the desk gave us a big smile. “Why, how nice for Mr. Hennessey to have some young visitors,” he said. He turned to a woman who was working at the desk next to his. “Ruth, can you bring Mr. Hennessey to the lounge?”
Well, this was easier than I’d thought. I looked at my fellow “detectives.” Kristy seemed relieved, but Claud and Charlotte still looked nervous.
“Would you girls sign the guest register?” asked the receptionist. He gestured to a large book on a stand next to his desk. We signed in, each of us filling in our name, address, and phone number. Claud used her pink neon pen that she loves. For some reason that made me want to giggle, but I held it in. Then we walked over to the lounge area and sat down to wait. We didn’t talk much. Claud fiddled with her charm bracelet, Kristy twirled her hair around a finger, and Charlotte sat and stared at the other people in the lounge until I signaled to her to stop.
After about ten minutes, Ruth reappeared, pushing an old man in a wheelchair. And when I say old, I mean old. He was all shriveled up — he looked about the size of a ten-year-old — and hunched over. He had a blanket over his legs, and he wore a heavy sweater, even though it didn’t seem all that cool in the building. I saw hearing aids in both of his ears. His hands, the papery skin covered with brown spots, lay on his lap, picking at the blanket. But his eyes looked bright as he focused on each of us in turn. He cleared his throat and looked straight at me.
“What’s your name, young lady? And what do you want with Ronald Hennessey?” His voice sounded rusty, as if he hadn’t used it much lately.
“I … I’m … Stacey McGill.” I finally got it out. “And these are my friends Claudia, Kristy, and Charlotte.”
He nodded at each of them, but he didn’t smile. He didn’t seem all that delighted with his “young visitors.” He looked back at me. I realized that I hadn’t told him yet why we were there.
“Mr. Hennessey, we came to ask you about an old house on Elm Street. Didn’t you once own it?” I asked. I figured we might as well keep on going, as long as we were there.
“Own it? Yes, I owned it. Lived there all my life. Born in the east bedroom,” he said shortly. “What about it?”
“Well, we’ve been noticing some strange things happening there lately,” I said. “Ever since they started to tear the house down.”
“Oh?” he said. He was still acting grumpy, but I thought I could see a spark in his eyes all of a sudden. We’d gotten him interested. “Strange things? Like what?”
“We’ve heard odd noises,” I said.
“And we’ve seen some scary things, too!” added Charlotte.
We started to tell him the story from the beginning, and I could see him perk up as he listened.
“And Charlotte and I both had awful nightmares about the house, on the same night,” I told him, and then Claud chipped in her story about feeling a hand on her arm.
“I have to tell you girls that none of this surprises me,” said Mr. Hennessey. “I lived in that house for almost eighty years, and I couldn’t begin to tell you all the things that happened there. But I loved the house just the same. I’d never have sold it but for the fact that I know I’ll never be able to live there again by myself. I’m just not able to get up and down those stairs anymore.”
Looking at him, we could see that it was more than just stairs that kept him from living alone. He didn’t look capable of taking care of himself any longer. He was fr
ail and tired and very, very old. But what kinds of things was he remembering about the house? I asked him to tell us more.
“Well,” he said, “the very first thing I remember was when I was just a lad in short pants. I was seven or eight years old, I suppose. I woke up in the middle of the night to the sound of heavy footsteps. Someone was pacing in the corridor outside my room. I crept out of my bed and peeked through the door, which was open a crack. What a funny-looking man! He wore the strangest old-fashioned clothes, and his nose … well, his nose looked like it was made of rubber! I stifled a giggle, and he turned and glared at me. I drew back. I was very afraid.
“Later I learned that this man was a ghost, a ghost who went by the name of Old Rubbernose. When he was living, a horse had bitten off his nose, and the town doctor had fashioned a new one of rubber. Children laughed at Old Rubbernose, and women spurned him. He died a lonely, sad, and bitter man, and it was said that he would never rest until he found a mortal woman who would love him despite his disfigurement. He may be pacing still!”
We were all leaning forward to hear every word of his story. I was fascinated and terrified, all at the same time. Could he be telling the truth? Old Rubbernose? I looked at Claud. She raised her eyebrows. Mr. Hennessey started another story.
“And then there was the time my Uncle James came to visit. One morning he told us about a beautiful woman with red hair who was wearing a green velvet dress. She came into his room with a lit candle and bade him follow her. He got out of bed, but as he followed her out the door and down the hall, she became more and more transparent and finally disappeared. The rest of us never saw her, but every time Uncle James came to visit she would turn up. I guess she’d taken a liking to him.”
That story sounded like it was out of one of those books Dawn likes to read all the time. One was called Stories NOT to Be Read After Dark. Was Mr. Hennessey for real?
He told us a few other stories about the house, one involving a man who carried his own head around and another about an attic door that wouldn’t stay shut until a spirit was put to rest. His eyes were really sparkling now. It was obvious that he was enjoying his “young visitors” after all. Kristy caught my eye and shrugged. I knew that the others were as doubtful as I was about some of these stories. But then Mr. Hennessey said something that really grabbed our attention.
Stacey and the Mystery of Stoneybrook Page 7
