“I have an idea too,” JJ whispered back. “What if Mr. Barclay wasn’t the target at all?”
Penny nodded. “What if the killer actually wanted Mr. Clark dead?”
ONCE THEY WERE outside the dining room, JJ said to Penny, “We need more information on Mr. Clark.”
“And Mr. Barclay.” Penny then looked around. “Hey, have you seen Emma? We should probably fill her in on everything that just happened.”
JJ looked too. “I haven’t seen her in a while. Did you notice if she came downstairs with us?”
Penny shook her head. “I don’t know.”
“Maybe she’s way ahead of us. Maybe she’s already looking for more clues about Mr. Barclay and Mr. Clark,” JJ said. The dining room was still loud with arguing adults—something he was happy to leave behind. “I have an idea to find out more about Mr. Clark.”
“I’m going to find Mr. Barclay,” Penny said. “Meet you in an hour, right here? And hopefully one of us will run into Emma.”
JJ nodded.
The killer was after Mr. Clark.
Mr. Barclay said that Mr. Clark knew all his business dealings. That meant that Mr. Barclay had to have hired him.
If there was anything JJ knew from watching his mom run her business, it was that there was a lot of paperwork involved. Filing cabinets full of the stuff. And that meant that there’d be a paper trail.
Mr. Barclay had to have a record of hiring Mr. Clark, right? There had to be some information about Mr. Clark in there, like a former address, personal references, stuff like that.
JJ made his way to Mr. Barclay’s office and was surprised to find it unlocked. And here he thought he might have to go hunting for the key! Today was his lucky day. His ankle even felt a little better, as long as he didn’t put his weight on it.
JJ decided it was better to keep the light off. He’d just open the blinds a little, and let the view of the mountains stream in. Snow was falling outside and coating the trees and the lawn in front of the hotel. It didn’t show any signs of letting up.
JJ focused his attention on the row of filing cabinets against the back wall. He opened the drawers, one by one. Accounting records, something called deeds (whatever that was), and a bunch of other stuff JJ didn’t need.
But the bottom drawer finally had him hitting the jackpot. There it was: Gregory Clark. The folder was the same as the others: gray and bland. Only it was different in a not-so-good way.
The folder was empty.
JJ searched the rest of the cabinet, to see if maybe there was another folder, anything else to go on.
It was right there in the bottom drawer, waiting to be discovered. JJ’s heart beat a little faster as he read the words.
Last Will and Testament. The letters were small and the text boring legal stuff, so he scanned the pages. JJ halted somewhere on the third page of the document, where a name was printed in bold letters.
JJ held his breath. He read the name twice, just to be sure.
Then he clutched the papers and rushed out of the office.
He had to find Mr. Barclay, and fast.
WHILE JJ WAS trying to find out more about who Mr. Clark was, Penny decided it was time she talked to the man who’d been pulling all the strings, setting up this whole murder mystery weekend.
Mr. Barclay. He had to be done talking to her grandpa. So where was he now?
Penny looked at the map. Most adults loved the hot tub, but Mr. Barclay might want some quiet. She took a peek inside the library, only to find it deserted.
She tried the Cupcake Shoppe, and found Mr. Barclay sitting in the dark, in a booth in the far corner of the small bakery.
“Mr. Barclay?”
The man was slumped over, his hands clasped on the table. He stared off into space. Penny remembered her dad having the same stare when her great-aunt died.
“It’s me, Penny?” she said, not sure if he remembered who she was.
Mr. Barclay looked up and smiled, still looking sad. “Oh yes, the straggler. You remind me of my daughter when she was your age,” Mr. Barclay said out of nowhere. “Always looking for the next fun thing to do.”
“Where did she move to?” Penny tried to sound casual but wasn’t sure if she’d achieved that. What if his daughter was right here at the hotel, and hated her father’s guts for some reason? What if Ms. Chelsea or Fiona Fleming was really Mr. Barclay’s daughter?
“My daughter is dead, Penny.”
“Oh. I’m sorry.” So much for that being a lead. Penny sat across from Mr. Barclay. “What happened?”
Mr. Barclay’s voice was very sad, and crackled like one of those old vinyl records her mom liked to play. “Her mother had a rare genetic blood disease, though she passed away quick. My daughter had the same disease. But her death took a few years—I tried every doctor, every medicine . . .”
Penny looked around the Cupcake Shoppe. Most of the seats were wrapped in plastic, like moths in a cocoon. “You built all this for her?”
He nodded, looking very sad again. “She was too sick to leave the estate. So I tried to make the hotel fun for her.”
“I think that makes you a great dad,” Penny said.
Mr. Barclay gave a small smile in response to the compliment.
“I actually came to ask you about Mr. Clark,” Penny said. “How did he become your butler?”
Mr. Barclay seemed to collect his thoughts. “Mr. Clark came to the hotel last year after I’d spent over ten years in a daze. After my daughter died, I was a mess. I needed a butler, so I placed an ad for the job. Mr. Clark called within a day, showed up the next, and did a great job from the start. I didn’t ask any questions.”
Mr. Barclay continued, “I always loved the theater and games. One day, to cheer me up, Mr. Clark dressed as a magician. The next day, a gunslinger. I joined in on the fun after a while. It was easier to pretend to be someone else than to be myself.”
“That disguise you wore today was pretty advanced,” Penny said.
“Thank you.”
An idea was forming at the back of Penny’s mind, one that would make a lot of puzzle pieces fall into place. “Did Mr. Clark teach you that?”
Mr. Barclay nodded. “Gregory was quite the expert in disguises. He once dressed as Chef Pierre. I didn’t even know it was him.”
Penny said, “A couple of the suspects mentioned that they met you that Friday, and that you went back on some agreements you made. The cowboy guy and his ranch, the librarian and her grant, and JJ’s mom with the restaurants.”
“That was quite odd,” Mr. Barclay agreed. “Mr. Clark told me they all despised me, that death threats had been made. It’s how I knew who to invite this weekend: Mr. Clark told me. And I never talked to anyone that Friday morning. Mr. Clark dealt with them all, he said.”
Penny asked, “Could it be that Mr. Clark was disguised as you, telling all those people to go away?”
“But why?” Mr. Barclay asked, looking confused again.
“You said that Mr. Clark knew all your business dealings,” Penny said, trying to formulate the butler’s motive. “What would happen if you died?”
Suddenly the door to the Cupcake Shoppe flew open.
JJ barged in, looking out of breath. “Mr. Barclay.” He waved a stack of papers. “You have to read this!”
JJ RAN OVER to where Penny and Mr. Barclay were sitting and said, “I have something you need to see.”
He dropped the stack of papers on the counter of the Cupcake Shoppe in front of Mr. Barclay.
“Why young man, I was just talking—” Mr. Barclay started to say.
But JJ wasn’t going to be interrupted. “You’ll want to read this. It’s your will.”
When Mr. Barclay took too long, JJ flipped the pages. “Look! It says here that he inherits everything.”
Penny had no trouble r
eading the name even though it was upside down: Gregory Clark.
Mr. Barclay went pale. “This is not my will. I mean, this is not a will I created. But this signature here at the bottom is mine.”
JJ looked triumphant. “I’ll bet Mr. Clark faked it.”
“But he’s dead now,” Mr. Barclay said. “What does it matter that he inherits everything?”
JJ had no answer to that.
Penny felt an idea come together in her mind. “What if Mr. Clark dressed up as you, got a new will made that says that he gets everything you own and all your money, and then fake signed it. And killed you. Only he didn’t get a chance to kill you, since someone murdered him first.”
Penny’s theory was starting to make a lot of sense.
Mr. Barclay mulled that over. “I don’t understand. Why would someone other than Mr. Clark then try to kill me?”
Penny said, “They didn’t want to kill you. They were after Mr. Clark.”
The question was: who?
* * *
PENNY AND JJ left Mr. Barclay in the Cupcake Shoppe, still holding the forged will.
“We’re so close to solving this mystery, I can feel it,” Penny said.
They made their way back to the library and found Emma roaming the stacks. “I’ve been looking for you guys! Did you find any more clues?” she asked, eager to do something.
JJ and Penny went up the spiral staircase to join Emma.
“Mr. Barclay is alive,” JJ said.
Emma blinked and smiled. She was crying big fat tears of joy. “I’m so glad. He’s like . . . a father. So wait—who is dead then?” She wiped her eyes.
“Mr. Clark.” Penny told her about what they found out about Mr. Clark and the fake will.
“I’ll bet his name wasn’t even Gregory Clark,” Emma said.
“That’s brilliant, Emma,” JJ said. “What if Mr. Clark’s other identity is that of an actual con man . . . ?”
Emma’s face brightened. “That con man you guys told me about, the one that Detective Walker said was in the area. Whatshisname . . .”
“Gerrit Hofstra,” Penny said. “What if Gerrit Hofstra was pretending to be Mr. Barclay?”
Emma nodded. “If he was acting as Mr. Barclay the Friday of his murder, it would certainly explain Mr. Barclay’s sudden change in character, how Mr. Barclay kept going back on his promises with everyone.”
Penny finished her thought: “It was this Gerrit Hofstra, impersonating Mr. Barclay. He sent everyone away. And he faked that will, so he could get all of Mr. Barclay’s money.”
Emma looked determined. “We should go update our files in the secret room.”
JJ hesitated. “I was going to review the ghost hunting footage from last night.”
“I’ll come along,” Penny said. “We have a bet, remember?” She wasn’t about to let JJ review the ghost hunting footage on his own. Penny wanted to see it with him, to add a skeptic’s perspective.
Emma was feeling left out and a little hurt by that. But then again, she’d messed with the camera, so she figured they’d be done reviewing in a few minutes anyway. Emma left, after telling them, “I’ll see you guys soon, then.”
Penny tried to do her best to contain her excitement about reviewing the footage. She was the one who didn’t believe in ghosts. Right?
“Let’s see what we have,” JJ said. He wanted to see if he’d caught the infamous lady in white, or that kid who supposedly haunted the hotel.
He said as he grabbed the camera, “It’s infrared footage, so it may not—what?” The camera casing was cracked! What happened?
“Oh no,” Penny said. She was genuinely upset. “What happened to the camera?”
“I don’t know.” JJ checked the memory card. Thankfully, that was still intact. The camera had run out of battery power, but then it had been almost twenty-four hours since he’d set it up. “Let’s see if the memory card is still functioning.”
Penny and JJ found a seat at the small table near the window. JJ plugged the camera’s memory card into his laptop.
Penny had to remind herself not to hold her breath. For someone who didn’t believe in ghosts, she sure was excited to see the footage. But then after the disappearing cat, the kid with the marbles . . . It was hard to stay a skeptic.
JJ opened the file and let it play. First, he saw himself setting everything up. That was boring, so he ran the video faster, to get to the good stuff. He wanted to see what those hours of ghost hunting had produced a little quicker.
“What are we watching? This is just footage of us,” Penny said.
“Wait,” JJ said.
JJ started to notice dust particles in front of the lens that looked like they were dancing.
And suddenly, they saw a white image appear.
Penny sat up straighter in her chair, eyes wide. “Is that . . . ?” Penny was too afraid to finish her question.
JJ nodded. “I think so.” It was a ghost.
“I guess I’m losing my bet. That’s a ghost.” Penny was afraid to blink as she watched the footage. The white shape took on the appearance of a human.
“Wait,” JJ mumbled. “I’m talking to this ghost.” That was weird. Was it a person after all? But no, the shape was hazy, just like he’d seen in real ghost hunting footage done by the professionals.
Who was he talking to?
He thought back to that moment, and remembered more clearly now: he’d been talking to Emma. Penny began to realize it too. “Emma,” she said.
Emma, who had appeared out of nowhere.
Emma, who avoided high fives. Who wouldn’t go into Mr. Barclay’s office . . .
Emma, who seemed to disappear at random times.
It all made sense now.
JJ and Penny looked at each other and then said at the same time, “Emma is a ghost.”
JJ KEPT HIS eyes glued to the footage until the camera battery drained. Emma was coming into view again as the camera shut off.
Penny exhaled. Their new friend was a ghost.
JJ’s camera battery should have lasted longer, but being zapped of energy was a classic sign of a haunting. Emma had drawn the energy from the camera, in order to make herself appear.
“Who was Emma?” Penny asked. “I mean, if she’s a ghost.”
“She’s tied to the hotel somehow.” JJ opened his backpack and grabbed the History of the Barclay Hotel book he’d been avoiding this whole weekend.
“I read some of it,” Penny said. “But not all.” Chapter twenty-three covered the entire Barclay family tree. Both Penny and JJ pored over the pages, until they both caught a familiar name.
Emma.
JJ read aloud, slowly, “Mrs. Barclay passed away from a rare genetic blood disease at the age of thirty-four. Not long after, the Barclays’ daughter was diagnosed with the same affliction. She died just after her twelfth birthday. Although her first name was Constance, Mr. Barclay’s daughter preferred to go by her middle name, Emma.”
Penny said, “I talked to Mr. Barclay. He built the fun stuff in the hotel for his daughter because she was too sick to go anywhere.” She hesitated, because she knew this proved ghosts exist. “Emma is haunting the hotel.”
Penny reached into her pocket for the marble. She knew it had been given to her by a ghost, when she was in the den and JJ was on the runaway carousel.
JJ closed the book and jumped when he realized Emma was sitting right across from them. As much as ghosts can sit, anyway.
“Hi, Emma,” Penny said. She felt nervous.
“I guess you know now,” Emma said to Penny and JJ. She sounded sad.
JJ asked, “Why didn’t you tell us?”
Emma shrugged. “It was just so nice to have friends, and not worry about germs and nonsense. You know I haven’t seen another kid in years?”
�
��That must get really lonely,” JJ said.
Emma nodded. “You have no idea. My dad can’t see me. The chef can’t either. All they see sometimes is flickering lights—I can do that, if I concentrate. Adults can’t see ghosts. Only kids can. With the exception of Fiona Fleming—she must be a real psychic medium.”
“Can you see the other ghosts?” JJ asked. He was a ghost hunter, after all.
Emma shook her head. “We can’t see each other. I think my mom might be roaming around—in room two seventeen. That used to be her favorite because it overlooks the valley. It’s where she died.”
JJ asked, remembering what was in the History of the Barclay Hotel book, “What about the midnight hour—can you see each other then?”
Emma smiled and her eyes got misty. “No. But I can feel my mom, and sometimes I smell her perfume.”
Penny asked, “Did you have a cat?”
“Oh yes, a black one,” Emma said. “Her name was Chloe.”
“So, she’s a ghost cat,” Penny said. And she’d tickled her feet. In room 217.
JJ tried not to be too amazed by the fact that he was sitting across from a ghost. This was what he’d been hunting for this entire time, after all. “Oh my gosh, I have so many questions. I’ll start with the one that has to do with our investigation. Couldn’t you spy on people to find out who killed Mr. Clark?”
She shook her head. “It’s not that simple. Plus, I can’t go inside Dad’s office, or the dining room. When I was still . . . alive”—Emma paused—“those two rooms were off-limits. So now that I’m a ghost, they’re off-limits too.”
“JJ?” The door to the library opened, and JJ’s mom popped her head in through the doorway. “If I remember correctly, I grounded you.”
JJ froze. Uh-oh.
His mom smiled. “But since you’re in the library, reading . . . Hi, Penny.”
“Hi, Mrs. Jacobson,” Penny said.
JJ’s mom pointed a thumb over her shoulder. “It’s dinnertime, you two.”
Midnight at the Barclay Hotel Page 11
