by Michael Dahl
“Hey, Dad!” yelled Ty.
A tall man wearing a tall white chef’s hat hurried over to meet him.
“Tyler, you shouldn’t be back here,” said Mr. Yu. ”Only cooks and waiters.”
“I know, I know,” said Tyler.
“Who’s this?” asked his father, gesturing toward Charlie. “Your friend from school?”
“Yeah, this is Hitch,” said Ty. “He’s here because he’s interested in the ghost.”
“Ah,” said his father, nodding his head. “Our phantom friend.”
Charlie noticed that the older Yu had the same eyes as his son. But his face was much friendlier.
Tyler must get his scowl from his mom, thought Charlie.
“Tell him what the ghost took from your kitchen, Dad,” said Tyler.
“I don’t know if it was a ghost,” said Mr. Yu, smiling. “But someone took a half dozen of my best serving spoons.”
“The big kind,” added Tyler. “You know, for scooping out stuff.”
“We run a tight ship here at the Top Hat,” said Mr. Yu. “Every pot, pan, plate, and utensil is accounted for. I really can’t understand why anyone would want serving spoons.”
“Are they valuable?” asked Charlie.
“Well, they are old,” admitted Mr. Yu. “And I’m sure they’re genuine silver. They came with the original silverware from the hotel’s first restaurant.”
“Think they’re worth a hundred bucks, Dad?” asked Tyler.
“Probably more,” said Mr. Yu, nodding. “Now, I really need to get back to my customers. We’re serving one of my specialties tonight, Flambeau de Chesterton. I have to make sure I don’t set off the fire alarm like I did last time. You boys have fun.”
As they returned to the lobby, Charlie stopped asked, “Why do you think a ghost stole the serving spoons?”
“Not so loud,” whispered Tyler. “I don’t want the guests to hear. It’s bad for business.”
He grabbed Charlie by the collar and pulled him into a shadowy corner, where they were surrounded by potted palms and giant ceramic vases.
“There’s no one around,” said Charlie, readjusting his collar.
“Yeah, but that lobby echoes,” said Tyler. He shrugged. “My family has a reputation to think about here.”
“So tell me why you think —” Charlie began.
“Yeah, yeah, the ghost,” said Tyler. “Definitely took the spoons. And I think so because it all happened the same night. After Mr. Thursday called us upstairs about the shower curtain, that same night, my dad noticed his spoons were gone. And later, my mom got complaints from some of the guests that the bowling pins were missing downstairs.”
“That is weird,” said Charlie.
“No kidding,” said Tyler. “This is why you need to solve the mystery. And it better be quick, before something else disappears.”
Just then, a hand reached out from behind one of the giant vases.
Tyler jumped as the hand grabbed him.
“Where’s my key?” came a voice.
The mysterious hand grabbed Tyler’s shirt even tighter.
Charlie saw that it was attached to an arm, then a shoulder, then an entire body of a teenage boy with long blond hair.
The older boy was wearing a dark maroon suit and a gold name badge.
“Don’t do that!” said Tyler. He shook the guy’s hand away.
“Sorry, man,” said the teenager. “I need my passkey back.” He turned and looked at Charlie. “Who are you?”
Charlie began, “I’m —”
“He’s Hitch,” said Tyler. “And here’s your stupid passkey.” He handed it to the blond guy, who shoved it in his pocket.
“Your mom was looking for it,” said the blond guy. “And I don’t want to lose it like last time.”
“You lost it?” Charlie asked.
The blond guy turned to Tyler. “Who is this kid?” he asked. “And why does he care about my stupid passkey?”
“I’m, uh, writing a report on the hotel for school,” said Charlie. “Who are you?”
“Rocky,” said the guy. “I work the front desk.”
“He and Annie switch off,” explained Tyler.
“When did you lose the key?” Charlie asked.
“I didn’t really lose it,” said Rocky. “I just misplaced it. I was checking people in and I had a lot on my mind. I couldn’t find the key, but when I looked again a little later, there it was on the floor. Must have dropped it. Anyway, why do you care when I lost it?”
“Don’t you have work to do?” asked Tyler.
“Nice talking to you too, Ty,” said Rocky. He pushed his long hair behind his ears and walked back toward the desk.
“Well, that could explain our ghost,” said Charlie.
“What could explain the ghost? Rocky?” asked Tyler.
“No, not Rocky. The passkey,” said Charlie. “Rocky said he was missing it for a little while, right? So while it was gone, someone could have used it to get into the rooms on the ninth floor and steal the shower curtains.”
“You’re right,” said Tyler.
“And does the passkey let you into the bowling alley and the kitchen?” asked Charlie.
“Yeah. It unlocks every door in the hotel,” said Tyler.
“So that’s how the thief did it,” said Charlie.
“But how could you steal a key right in front of someone?” asked Tyler. “Rocky’s not that smart, but he does notice things. He knew you and I were over here behind these plants and vases.”
“Right,” Charlie said. “That’s why I think it had to be a magician.”
“Why?” Tyler asked.
“Magicians use the trick I’m thinking of all the time,” said Charlie. “It’s called palming. It’s how they can hide an object in their hands, right under your nose. Or they distract you, make you look at something else, while they put the object in their pocket.”
“Hmm,” said Tyler.
He strode across the lobby and stopped at the front desk. Rocky was busy working at a computer.
“Hey, Rock,” said Tyler. “The day you couldn’t find that key, were there lots of people checking in?”
“I’m busy here, Ty,” said Rocky.
“Just tell me what you dropped on the floor that day,” said Tyler.
“Just someone’s credit card and… hey, how did you know I dropped something?” Rocky asked, turning from the computer.
“Elementary,” said Tyler, with a smirk. “Whose card was it?’
“And when did all this happen?” added Charlie.
Rocky thought for a moment. He brushed the hair out of his eyes and said, “It was Thursday.”
Then Charlie asked, “And were any of those people you checked in named Ken?”
“You’re starting to bug me, kid,” said Rocky.
“Hey, can you answer his question or not?” said Tyler.
Rocky frowned and looked quickly at his computer screen. “Nope, no Ken. Hey, no Ken do. Get it? You asked if I could answer his question, and I said, ‘No Ken do.’ Ha.”
“You’re a comedian,” said Tyler. “Come on,” he told Charlie.
The two boys walked away from the counter. Tyler shook his head and shoved his hands into the back pockets of his jeans.
“What a weirdo,” he mumbled. “Well, now what do we do?”
This puzzle was more bizarre than the last one Charlie had helped Tyler solve. A ghost, a wavering voice, missing bowling pins, spoons, and shower curtains.
Or maybe not exactly shower curtains, Charlie thought. There was something he had seen in Mr. Thursday’s bathroom that he hadn’t seen in the others Tyler had showed him.
And there was something else. The weirdest thing was that Charlie was sure there was a phantom cleaner in the hotel.
Things were being cleaned without anyone else realizing it.
Suddenly, grunts echoed through the lobby. Charlie turned and saw a couple of men walk toward the counter where Rocky was working. Rain dripped from their clothes and their shoes.
The men had thick necks and broad shoulders, but they were struggling with two huge suitcases. They set them down by Rocky, then took out handkerchiefs and wiped their foreheads.
“We got one more,” said one of the men. He jerked his thumb over his shoulder toward the front door. Charlie could see an empty taxi sitting by the curb.
Charlie looked at the suitcases again. Things were starting to make sense to him.
“I think we need to go back up to the ninth floor,” said Charlie. “There’s something else missing from the bathroom in Room 909.”
“I don’t hear the voice,” said Tyler.
“Me either,” Charlie said. “Just wait.”
They were walking through the hallways again on the ninth floor.
When they reached Room 909, Tyler unlocked the door with the passkey.
He’d grabbed it while Rocky was busy with the heavy suitcases that had just arrived.
“Okay, Hitch,” said Tyler. “What’s the deal with Mr. Thursday’s bathroom?”
“Look at the curtain rod,” said Charlie. “See anything?”
“Uh, no,” replied Tyler. “I already told you the ghost, or whoever, stole the shower curtains.”
“Right,” said Charlie. “But I remember something else from the other bathrooms. Since I have acute visual memory, I remember…”
“Yeah, yeah, I know,” said Tyler, with a frown. “You remember everything you see.”
“And it doesn’t match this room,” Charlie pointed out.
Tyler frowned, but he took off and ran to one of the other hotel rooms. Charlie followed as Tyler rushed inside the other room and disappeared into the bathroom. “Wow!” came his voice.
“See it?” asked Charlie.
Tyler walked slowly out of the second bathroom and stared at Charlie. “You did it again, Hitch,” he said. “This bathroom has the curtain rings still attached.”
“They all do,” said Charlie. “Except for the curtain rod in Mr. Thursday’s bathroom. The shower curtains and the rings are missing.”
“But why?” asked Tyler. “What’s the difference?”
“Let’s see, there are about twelve or so rings on each rod,” Charlie said thoughtfully. “Someone wanted those rings.”
“They’re not valuable,” said Tyler. “Just made out of metal.”
Ooooooh-ooooooohhhhhh!
The boys stared at each other. The voice had returned.
“This guy is starting to tick me off,” growled Tyler. He rushed out of the room and strode down the hallway. “Where are you?” he called out. “What’s your problem?!”
Charlie followed him, listening closely to the phantom sound. “Mister Ken… ahhhh… uhhh… Mister Ken…” The moan echoed through the hall.
“Wait here,” said Charlie. He rushed back to the hallway where he had earlier noticed the ghost’s voice growing softer. Yes, it was still soft in that area. Charlie walked down the hall until the voice seemed louder again.
There has to be a logical explanation, he thought.
He dropped his backpack onto the carpet and knelt down. He fished through one of the pockets to find his notebook and a pen. He wanted to write down all the clues they had discovered so far.
Then he noticed something. When he was kneeling down on the floor, the sound was louder.
What is going on? he thought. Staying on his knees, he crawled to one side of the hall. No, the sound was normal. Then he crawled to the other side. The voice was louder.
Charlie stared at the dark wall. The wallpaper design of big black flowers stretched all the way to the floor. But in the dim light, Charlie could see that there was a small vent disguised in the black petals.
He pressed an ear to the vent and heard the ghostly voice loud and clear.
He sat up and called out, “Hey, Tyler! Come here!”
Tyler rushed into the hall. “You saw it?” he asked.
Charlie shook his head. “No,” he said, “but I heard it.” He pointed at the vent. Tyler bent down and listened closely. They both heard Mister Ken’s name cried out again.
“I know where it’s coming from,” Tyler said suddenly.
“Where?” Charlie asked.
Tyler shuddered and said, “The basement!”
On the way down in the elevator — this time it was Brack’s — Charlie made a list on his notepad of the clues and questions they had.
“You have the hunter’s gleam in your eye, Master Hitchcock,” said Brack. “Do I detect that you have solved the puzzle?”
“He’d better have solved it,” muttered Tyler.
Charlie grinned and told Brack, “Well, I’ve solved at least part of it.”
Brack leaned in to look at Charlie’s list. “So you have juggled all your clues and evidence together,” he said, “and that’s why you are traveling to the basement?”
“We always end up in the basement,” said Tyler.
“But the mystery was already solved upstairs on the ninth floor,” said Charlie. “Down here, we’ll find out who’s behind the mystery.”
The elevator stopped and the doors slid open.
“Good luck,” said Brack. “I hope your solution turns tragedy into comedy.”
As the elevator doors closed behind them, Tyler looked down at Charlie and said, “That guy is always saying weird stuff.”
Weird, but full of clues, thought Charlie. Tragedy and comedy?
“I think he’s pretty smart,” Charlie said, raising an eyebrow. “Anyway, where should we go?”
Tyler shrugged and pointed. “This way,” he said. “Follow the pipes.”
Long metal ducts snaked across the ceilings. As they walked deeper into the basement, more and more of the ducts appeared from different directions.
The ducts connected and joined together, forming even bigger pipes, all running in the same direction. All of the pipes passed through a wall near a door labeled BOILER ROOM in thick, dark letters.
When the boys opened the heavy orange metal door, Tyler and Charlie were met by a blast of thick, warm air.
All the ducts entered this room. Half of them flowed into the dozen metal boilers. The boilers heated air. Then the air was carried by the other ducts to the vents on all the hotel’s floors.
“If someone could be heard through that vent upstairs,” whispered Tyler, “then they must be somewhere in this room. They have to be.”
Then Charlie gasped. He grabbed Tyler’s arm. “Look! Over there!” he said.
A man’s shadow covered one of the room’s cement walls. His hands fluttered up and down in a strange way, as if he were brushing aside spider webs. Or as if he were a magician casting a spell.
His hands stopped.
“Mister Ken,” they heard him say. Then the man’s shadow disappeared.
“Hurry!” said Tyler. “Before he disappears!”
The boys dashed around the row of boilers.
A young man turned abruptly, a surprised look on his face.
He was surrounded by nine bowling pins. A heap of metal spoons and rings was lying at his feet. Beyond him lay a neatly folded shower curtain.
“Mr. Thursday! You’re the ghost!” accused Tyler angrily.
“Ghost?” repeated the man. “What are you talking about?”
“He’s not a ghost,” said Charlie. “He’s a juggler.”
“Juggler?” repeated Tyler.
The man bowed toward them. “Thursday the Master Thrower,” said the juggler. “And I’m sorry about taking these things. But I had to practice.”
“And your luggage
was lost by the airlines,” said Charlie. “Along with your usual props, like bowling pins, juggling rings, and metal rods.”
“Exactly,” said Mr. Thursday. “I just borrowed these items to use until mine turned up. I always planned to return them. I even folded the shower curtain!”
He pointed at the shower curtain, which was indeed folded up.
“Your luggage just got here,” said Charlie. “We saw it up in the lobby.”
“Slow down, you two,” Tyler said. “What’s going on?”
“He’s another performer,” explained Charlie. “Like the magicians who live here. And just like any performer, he has to practice every single day.”
“But why do you practice down here?” asked Tyler.
“Because the ceiling’s high enough,” said Mr. Thursday.
“So we were hearing you practice through the vents,” said Tyler. “Who is this Mister Ken guy?”
“Mister Ken?” Thursday said. “Who’s that?”
Charlie smiled. “He wasn’t saying Mister Ken,” he said. “We just thought he was. I finally figured it out when I realized what all three objects had in common.”
“What do you mean?” Tyler asked. “What do they have in common?”
Charlie explained, “I was thinking, ‘What would someone use rings, spoons, and bowling pins for?’ Then I thought, ‘Of course! Juggling!’ Then I realized that what we were hearing was Mr. Thursday rehearsing his act.”
“I still don’t get it. What does that have to do with Mister Ken?” Tyler asked.
Charlie smiled again. “There is no Mister Ken,” he said. “Whenever he dropped a spoon or ring or pin, he would say to himself, ‘Missed again, missed again.’”
“I don’t get it,” Ty said.
“That’s what we were hearing. We just thought he was saying Mister Ken, but he was giving himself a hard time for screwing up while practicing.”
Mr. Thursday blushed. “It’s a bad habit of mine,” he said.
“It just sounded like ‘Mister Ken,’” said Charlie.
