Dear Mr. and Mrs. Jacobson,
This letter is to request your presence at our principal’s office, Friday at four p.m. Your son, JJ Jacobson, is currently failing both his English and his history class. We need to discuss further steps urgently.
Sincerely,
Principal Miller
“I didn’t know what to do, so I hid the letter,” JJ said softly.
Penny nodded, showing she understood. It was a pickle, to keep a secret from your parents. “And then the secret gets bigger and bigger, the longer you hide it.”
“Yes,” JJ said, looking at her. “You get it.”
“What are you going to do?” Penny asked.
“No idea.” JJ sighed. “I guess they’ll find out eventually. I just wanted to come here this weekend and forget about it all for a while.”
“I hide stuff too.” Penny sat next to him. “Everyone thinks that all I want to do is read. That I’m afraid of everything.”
“Why?” JJ asked.
“I went scuba diving with my parents and a tour group last year, and I had a panic attack.” She sighed. “I’m afraid of a lot of stuff, so everyone now just leaves me in a corner with a stack of books.”
“What do you want?” JJ asked.
Penny said in the smallest voice, “I want to be brave.”
JJ nodded. He knew what it was like to want people to see you a certain way. “You were really brave in the elevator.”
“That was nothing.” But maybe Penny was wrong there, we can agree with JJ. She was braver than she gave herself credit for. “And I want to be a detective like my grandpa.”
“You’d be a great detective,” JJ said while he folded the letter. He stuffed it deep inside his bag. “Maybe you can help me detect ghosts.”
“Not that there will be any,” Penny added with a sly grin. “So, show me what equipment you’re using.”
He hesitated for a second, but then figured he could use the help. “Okay. I’ve set up the infrared camera over there.” He pointed to the edge of the balcony.
“That’s pretty cool,” Penny said. “What does it do?”
“It records several hours of data.” JJ adjusted the angle, so it could cover most of the library. “And detects temperature fluctuations too.”
“Cold spots,” Penny said. “I read somewhere that it’s supposed to get cold when a ghost shows up.”
“Sometimes, yeah.” JJ studied her face. “I thought you didn’t believe in ghosts.”
“I don’t.” Penny shrugged. “But reading about them is interesting.”
JJ had to laugh at this very Penny-style logic. She was here, so maybe she could help. JJ opened his logbook to write down any anomalies—those are strange things that happen during the night. And as anyone knows, nighttime is the perfect time for spooky stuff.
He pointed to the EMF detector. “Maybe you can hold the EMF detector.”
“Sure.” Secretly, Penny was having fun. This ghost hunting stuff was pretty exciting, especially when she considered that if the invitation to the Barclay Hotel hadn’t come along, she’d probably be watching Antiques Roadshow with her grandpa.
JJ turned on his voice recorder. “You can catch audio evidence if you ask the ghost questions. Sometimes when you play it back, you’ll be able to hear a ghost’s voice on the recordings.” It was in a staticky way, like when you were tuning in to the radio but the station was out of range. Well, at least if the ghost was a talker.
“Okay,” Penny whispered.
“Is there anyone with us tonight?” JJ asked. That’s what they did on the show. His voice echoed off the tall ceiling. He felt nervous, like he did when he was taking a test at school.
Penny watched the EMF detector’s lights move up. Was there a ghost . . . ?
JJ walked around and asked his question again.
He looked down over the banister. And he saw a shadow. Right there, by the door!
“Penny,” he whispered. “Look!”
THE BLACK SHADOW zoomed away and flew behind a bookcase.
“It’s a cat,” Penny said flatly. “I saw it in the window when we arrived.”
“Oh.” JJ did his best to hide his disappointment. “I was so excited for a second.” Of course, JJ didn’t consider that animals could be ghosts too. Penny had, but she wasn’t about to speak up. She was still determined to prove that ghosts didn’t exist.
JJ went down and back up the spiral stairs. He remembered the old reports that Mrs. Barclay roamed the bookcases. JJ searched for her spirit. He expected to see some kind of white apparition, but no luck.
Penny followed along. “Are you here, Mrs. Barclay?” she asked. The EMF detector only showed one light—no ghostly activity there.
They kept walking between the bookcases.
Suddenly, there was a thump behind them that made Penny jump. Several books had fallen on the floor between two bookcases.
Macbeth
The Mousetrap
Midnight at the Barclay Hotel
“They’re plays,” Penny said. Now didn’t seem like the best time for Penny to tell JJ that The History of the Barclay Hotel had fallen from a bookshelf earlier that day. “I think that one script was written by Fiona Fleming.” It had landed on the page with the list of cast members. Penny glanced at it, but not for long.
JJ said, “Maybe the ghost knocked them down.”
“Or the cat.” Penny put the plays back on the shelf. Her EMF detector lit up, but only for a split second. She was hoping to prove that ghosts didn’t exist. So no news was good news—or no ghost was good news, better yet.
“If anyone can hear me, we’d like to talk to you,” JJ said. He waited. There was about two hours of recording time on his voice recorder. He still had an hour and a half of time left on it.
Suddenly, he heard a whistling sound. It was coming from behind him, in the stacks.
JJ froze. Penny heard it too. There it was again! And the EMF detector was lighting up like a Christmas tree.
“Was that a ghost?” he asked Penny. The late Mrs. Barclay could be roaming the library right now. And he’d have it on tape!
“Poppycock,” Penny muttered.
“Look at the EMF detector,” JJ whispered.
“Huh?” Penny was excited now too. It was hard not to get caught up in the fun of ghost hunting.
JJ held his breath, and slowly walked between the stacks, careful not to make a sound. Penny followed, fully expecting there to be a logical explanation for the sound.
There! More whistling—and louder this time. That had to mean they were getting closer . . .
JJ and Penny moved to the next shelf. And waited.
The whistling was practically by their ears now.
They both tiptoed, turned the corner, and—
“BOO!”
EMMA JUMPED OUT of nowhere, causing JJ to fall back and land on his rear end. Penny yelped and her glasses flew off. She held on to the EMF detector for dear life, but it was completely dead at this point. Not a single light.
Emma doubled over in loud laughter, which the other two found very annoying. “You should’ve seen your faces!”
JJ was mad now. “We’re working here, you know,” he said sternly as he stood back up. “We were gathering evidence, and you just ruined it.” He sounded a lot like his dad did that time the dog accidentally knocked his Colosseum puzzle off the coffee table.
“Emma!” Penny picked up her glasses and rubbed the lenses on her shirt. “You scared the bejeebies out of me.”
“Well, I managed to get JJ earlier, so it’s only fair that I scare you too.” Emma’s face turned more serious. “What are you two doing? Are you ghost hunting or something?”
JJ didn’t feel like answering her. Plus, his heart was still going a gazillion beats a minute.
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br /> “Yes, we were.” Penny smiled. “It’s kind of fun.” This whole ghost hunting thing was growing on her.
Emma said, looking around the library, “I practically live here, and I’ve never seen any ghosts.” Emma knew she was fibbing a little. But she didn’t want all this ghost hunting to distract them from the murder mystery.
JJ held his voice recorder. “I’m trying to get evidence.”
“You know, we should really work on getting evidence that is related to the murder,” Emma said.
She had a point.
“But what if the ghosts know who killed Mr. Barclay?” JJ argued.
“Then they would just tell us,” Emma said, rolling her eyes.
“She’s right,” Penny said. “And I think this thing is out of juice anyway.” She handed JJ back his EMF detector.
He wanted to argue, but he knew Emma was right. His mom was being accused of murder, and until they found proof of her innocence, she was still a suspect. “Okay,” JJ said. He clicked off his voice recorder. “Back to the murder investigation. So, what’s next?”
Suddenly, there was a huge ruckus coming from the south end of the hotel. The kids heard a lot of yelling and wondered what it was about.
Emma started walking down the library stairs. “That sounds like a fight.” She seemed entirely too excited about that.
The three kids headed in the direction of the yelling.
They ended up down the hall from the reception desk, where a set of double doors were wide open.
Emma stopped. “Hey, guys,” she said, looking uncomfortable. “I’m not allowed to go inside Mr. Barclay’s office.”
“Why not?” Penny asked. The yelling continued, and she was dying to see what the fuss was all about.
“I’m just not allowed.” Emma stepped back. “My uncle said so. I’ll just meet up with you guys later, okay?”
And she took off.
JJ and Penny looked at each other and frowned. “She’s weird,” JJ said.
“But nice,” Penny added. She felt like she was a little weird herself sometimes. Penny liked the idea she wasn’t the only one who was different. “Let’s see what’s going on.”
Mr. Clark stood in the doorway, hands on his hips. “Well, well, look at this.”
JJ and Penny had to crane their necks to see what Mr. Clark was well-well-ing about. Inside the office, standing on either side of the big mahogany desk, were Ms. Chelsea and Buck. Both were waving flashlights. And both were (suspiciously, JJ thought) wearing sneakers, when the cowboy had been wearing boots earlier, and Ms. Chelsea loafers.
“I caught him trying to steal a map!” Ms. Chelsea yelled. She was pointing her flashlight at Buck, nearly blinding him because it was aimed straight at his face.
“Talk about the pot calling the kettle black,” Buck countered. “You were here before me, Ms. Chelsea, rifling through the papers on Mr. Barclay’s desk.”
JJ’s mom came up behind him, wearing her pajamas with an oversize PB&JJ: Because everything is better with peanut butter! sweatshirt over them. “What’s going on? I could hear them yelling all the way in my room.”
“They caught each other breaking into Mr. Barclay’s office,” JJ whispered. He wasn’t sure why he was whispering. Probably because the librarian was there. It was a force of habit.
“Yes, both of them did indeed break in,” Mr. Clark said loudly. “Now that we are all up to speed on the day’s events—”
“Why?” JJ and Penny asked at the same time.
“Excuse me, I’ll be the one asking the questions here,” Mr. Clark interjected. He turned back to Ms. Chelsea and Buck. “Now, please explain why you broke in.”
Everyone looked at the two burglars, waiting for an answer. There was silence while Ms. Chelsea and Buck tried to come up with a reason.
Breaking the silence, Ms. Chelsea and Buck both spoke at once.
“Well, he—”
“No, she—”
“Stop!” Mr. Clark yelled. “One at a time. You first, Ms. Chelsea.”
She hesitated, then said, “I admit I broke into Mr. Barclay’s office. But it was only to find something that was mine, I swear!”
“What was it?” JJ’s mom asked for everyone.
Ms. Chelsea sighed, and turned off her flashlight. “Mr. Barclay had promised to renew the library grant, but the funding never came through. I came to find proof that he had approved the grant.” Her eyes were welling up with tears now. Forget the crazy plan for a slide and an arcade. “The library depends on that money. Without it . . .” Her voice trailed off. “As of Monday, I’m out of a job,” she whispered.
Everyone was silent.
Mr. Clark said, “Surely Mr. Barclay would have approved funding. He has every year.”
“That’s what I thought!” Ms. Chelsea said. “But then . . .” Her voice trailed off again.
“What?” JJ asked.
“When I called on the phone early last Friday morning, I was told that the grant had been canceled.” When Ms. Chelsea looked up, the tears were streaming down her face.
“Who told you this?” Mr. Clark asked.
Ms. Chelsea looked confused. “You did, Mr. Clark.”
“YOU TOLD ME there would be no more library grant, Mr. Clark,” Ms. Chelsea said. “And then you hung up on me.”
Behind JJ, someone gasped dramatically. All the ruckus had awoken actress Fiona Fleming, so she’d joined the crowded hall that led to Mr. Barclay’s office. She gasped again, even more dramatically, just in case anyone missed the first one.
Mr. Clark looked confused. “There must be some sort of mistake. Maybe you spoke to a prankster or called the wrong number.”
Ms. Chelsea shook her head. “No mistake. I came here even after you hung up on me, Mr. Clark. I drove up on Friday morning to speak to Mr. Barclay in person. I know how much he loved books.”
“He does—did—indeed,” Mr. Clark mumbled. “This is certainly a mystery, Ms. Chelsea.” Still confused, he turned his attention to the cowboy. “Now, how about you, Mr. Buck Jones. What excuse do you have for breaking into the office?”
Buck was startled that the attention was on him all of a sudden. He was happier when everyone looked at Ms. Chelsea. “Me?” He pointed his flashlight at the desk. Papers were strewn all about. “I was looking for a document. But it seems someone was here before me.”
“Nice try blaming the librarian,” Fiona said. “Why were you breaking in?”
“For a map. A little like this one.” Buck pointed to the frame behind him. It was a map of the Barclay estate, spanning acres of Colorado Rocky Mountain land.
Mr. Clark said calmly, “You were hoping to buy the ranch you’re working on from Mr. Barclay.”
All eyes were on the butler.
Buck looked Mr. Clark in the eye. “How did you know, Mr. Clark?”
Mr. Clark replied coolly, “Mr. Barclay shared all his business dealings with me. Which is why I also would’ve known if he wasn’t planning to renew the library grant.” He darted his eyes toward Ms. Chelsea as he said this last bit before looking back at the cowboy and stroking his handlebar mustache. Penny noticed Mr. Clark was acting quite nervous. Like a man with a secret.
But no one else noticed his suspicious behavior.
“If you already knew, why did you bother to ask me why I was in the office?” Buck asked.
“Dramatic effect,” Mr. Clark replied slyly.
Buck frowned before continuing. “I was doing great—I won the state cattle-wrangling award for best lasso!”
“Congratulations!” Fiona Fleming clapped excitedly.
“Impressive,” Mr. Clark replied. “And presumably this came with a prize.”
“A big prize—I won a ton of money and I had big plans for it,” Buck continued. “I came to see Mr. Barclay on Friday, but he refused to se
ll me the ranch!”
“Mr. Barclay was not a very nice man,” Ms. Chelsea said to Buck.
Buck nodded in agreement.
“Now, now,” Mr. Clark said. “Let’s not speak ill of the dead. Besides, Mr. Barclay was known for his generosity.”
“Maybe you didn’t really know Mr. Barclay,” Ms. Chelsea said. She crossed her arms and looked smug. She seemed to have forgotten she was in trouble just five minutes ago.
“Very true, Ms. Chelsea,” Buck said.
“And you still haven’t explained how you don’t remember talking to me on the morning of the murder, Mr. Clark,” Ms. Chelsea said. She had sharp observation skills. Ms. Chelsea was a librarian, after all.
Mr. Clark nervously twisted the ends of his mustache.
“Maybe we should all get some rest,” JJ’s mom said. “Come on, JJ.” She turned and walked back down the hall, and JJ knew he should follow. “And no more ghost hunting either.”
“But I’ll miss the midnight hour!” JJ called.
His mom gave him dagger eyes, which told him he was out of luck.
Penny said goodbye, after scribbling notes in her book. Clues for their murder mystery.
Everyone else went to bed, even Mr. Clark. They needed their shut-eye if they were going to solve a murder, after all. And things were about to get a lot more complicated . . .
THE BARCLAY HOTEL can be a confusing place, especially when you’re on the hunt for a murderer. But by now JJ, Penny, and Emma had gathered a lot of information. And like any good detective trio, they’d been writing down all the clues they found and keeping track of the suspects, and they had figured out one important thing.
Mr. Barclay was right: everyone had a motive.
Fiona Fleming didn’t get the acting job she worked so hard for.
JJ’s mom could lose her beloved PB&JJ.
Buck Jones wasn’t able to buy the ranch.
Ms. Chelsea lost her library funding.
In each of these four cases, Mr. Barclay had stood in the way of the suspects getting what they wanted. Plus, there was a new lead to investigate.
Midnight at the Barclay Hotel Page 7
