"What?" asked Jessie, looking at the pieces.
"Oklahoma," said Maxwell. And sure enough, Jessie could see that the pieces made a shape that looked like Oklahoma.
Jessie watched as Maxwell added piece after piece to the puzzle. She was starting to get annoyed. At this rate, she wasn't going to get to do any of her own puzzle. "You know what?" she said. "I like to do puzzles all by myself, without any help." This wasn't true, but it was no fun doing a puzzle with someone who could finish the whole thing before you even got a corner done. It was like someone giving you the answer to a math problem before you even started. "Let's do something else. What do you want to do?"
"Get Smart!" said Maxwell.
"What?"
"The best TV show ever made. Get Smart. Six seasons, 1965 to 1970, one hundred and thirty-eight episodes produced in all." Maxwell walked over to the TV cabinet and opened the lower cupboard. Inside, Grandma had a few DVDs, mostly babyish movies that Jessie and Evan didn't watch anymore. But Maxwell pulled out a boxed set that Jessie had never seen before. Get Smart was the title, and there was a picture of a man in a suit and a tie looking very surprised.
"Season one, the pilot episode," said Maxwell. He popped the DVD in the player, and they both sat down on the couch to watch. The title of the first episode was "Mr. Big."
It was a funny show. Jessie laughed and laughed. There was this dopey secret agent who worked for a super-secret government agency called CONTROL. The agent's name was Maxwell Smart, but his code name was Agent 86.
"I get it," she said, turning to Maxwell. "That's why you say you're smart all the time. Maxwell Smart! It's a joke!"
Maxwell bobbed his head up and down. "Yep! My name is Maxwell, and I'm smart. That's what Mrs. Joyce always says! She says, 'You're smart, Max well.' It's a joke!"
Maxwell Smart was a no-nonsense secret agent. He liked to take charge, and he was always confident he would catch the criminal in the end. Some people might think he was kind of bossy, but Jessie thought he was great.
There was another secret agent—a dark-haired woman named Agent 99—and a dog named K-13. Together, they got to use all kinds of great gadgets, like bino-specs and an inflato-coat and a shoe phone. Jessie especially loved the bino-specs.
"We should do that," she said at the end of the first episode. "We should be like spies and have a stakeout and figure out who stole the bell. We could solve the crime, just like Maxwell Smart and Agent 99."
"Okay," said Maxwell. "Let's do that."
"No, I mean for real," said Jessie. "Real secret agents, not just pretend."
"Okay," said Maxwell. "Let's do that."
"Really?" said Jessie. She was surprised that Maxwell agreed with her right away. She figured it would take a while to convince a sixth-grader to go along with her plan. After all, she was only a fourth-grader, and a pretty young one, at that.
"We have to think of something fast," she said. "New Year's Eve is the day after tomorrow."
"It's like a puzzle," said Maxwell.
"You're right. It's like a puzzle, and I'm good at puzzles."
"Me, too," said Maxwell. "I'm smart."
Chapter 6
Afternoon Shadows
Evan didn't want to stop. He and Pete were fixing the holes in the roof. Pete was outside, up on the extension ladder, ripping up shingles and tossing them through the hole to Evan. Evan was inside, crouching under the sloping ceiling so that he could catch the shingles as they fell and heave them into the garbage barrel. He also had to hand Pete whatever tools he needed.
So when Mrs. Treski appeared in the doorway of Grandma's office/construction site and asked Evan if he would please take Grandma for a walk, he made a face and said, "Can't Jessie do it?"
Evan, kneeling under the hole, looked up and caught sight of Pete's face looking right back at him. Pete didn't need to say a word. He just shook his head once, and Evan knew that was that.
"Yeah, okay, Mom," said Evan. He stood up and wiped the grit from the knees of his pants. "I'll be back in a few minutes," he hollered up to Pete.
"I'll be here," Pete called down. "Same as before. Take good care of your grandma, Big E."
Evan followed his mother, scowling. "Why can't Grandma take a walk by herself?" Grandma was a nut about walking. She took long walks by herself every day. Sometimes she'd walk five miles, circling her property, which covered a hundred acres at the foot of Black Bear Mountain.
"Evan, please," said his mother in the voice she used that meant there would be no more discussion.
Evan walked into the mudroom just off the kitchen. Grandma was looping her new purple scarf around her neck, the one that Jessie had knit for her for Christmas. Her injured arm was tucked inside her bulky winter coat, which was zipped closed over it.
"Hey, Grandma," said Evan.
"Something tells me you don't feel like going for a walk right now," said Grandma. Evan bent over his boots, tugging them onto his feet and hiding his face. Was it that obvious? The memory of what his grandmother had said to him two days ago in the kitchen flickered in his brain, but then he remembered his mother's explanation. She's not herself, Evan.
"No, I want to go," he said, knowing that it was okay to fudge the truth when you didn't want to hurt someone's feelings. "It's just that I was helping Pete, and he kind of needs me right now."
"Pete's a good boy," said Grandma.
"Boy!" said Evan. "He's a grown man."
"Not to me, he's not. Everyone looks young to me!" Grandma used her mouth to hold a mitten still while she wriggled her good hand into it. "Ready?"
"Ready," said Evan. Grandma opened the back door and was just about to step out, when Evan's mother called from upstairs. Evan tromped up to the second floor, feeling hot and puffy in his heavy ski coat and boots.
"Evan," said his mother, "try to make it a short walk, okay? Grandma thinks she's back to her old self, but I don't want her getting too tired. And try to hold on to her good arm, if she'll let you. Or at least keep close to her, so if she trips you can grab her before she falls. Okay?"
Evan didn't like the sound of any of this, but he nodded his head. He wasn't used to taking care of his grandma. She had always taken such good care of him and Jessie.
"And, Evan, one more thing," said his mother. "Don't let her go near the bell. Okay? I don't want her ... Just keep her away from that hill, okay?"
Afternoon shadows came early to Grandma's woods because the sun set behind the mountain. Evan was surprised that the blue-gray light of late afternoon was already painting the snow. He turned to walk up the long, plowed driveway toward the main road—that would be a good half-mile walk— but Grandma said she wanted to walk a different way, through the woods. She set out on the path that headed for the foot of Black Bear Mountain. There were footprints in the snow along this path and the steady slicing marks of skis, so Evan knew that Jessie and Maxwell had already come this way today.
Evan talked about the repair work that he and Pete were doing, especially the thrilling part about ripping out the old scorched studs in the wall and putting in new ones. It had been tricky, because the wall they were working on was a load-bearing wall, which meant it was holding up a lot of the weight of the second story. If they took out too many studs at once, the whole house could collapse. Evan thought it was like playing Jenga—the game where you build a tower of blocks, then try to pull out each block without causing the tower to fall.
Grandma didn't say much. It took some effort to walk on the packed-down snow, and there were branches and rocks you had to watch out for. Even Evan could feel his heart beating fast with the effort, and the cold intake of each breath of frozen air made his breathing seem heavier. He thought about Pete up on the roof all afternoon and wondered how he did it.
"Grandma, you want to go back now?" The light was definitely fading, and they'd already been walking for fifteen minutes. Evan wasn't even quite sure where they were, but Grandma knew her property like the back of her hand.
Gr
andma shook her head but didn't say anything. Her breathing was louder now, and she was grunting a little with the effort of climbing uphill. It was a pretty big hill, and the snow seemed deeper here. Evan looked around. There was something familiar about this place, but the light was so soft and lavender that he couldn't really trust his eyes.
They were just reaching the top now, Grandma ahead of him by a few feet. And as the crest of the hill came into view, Evan felt a sudden sense of coldness and dread.
Usually, they came up this hill from the other side, but it was still the same hill. Lovell's Hill. The one with the bell. There was the wooden crossbeam. And just like Jessie had said, the bell was gone.
"Grandma! Let's go back now," said Evan, afraid but not sure of what—which just made the fear feel all the worse. But Grandma wasn't stopping. She made a beeline for the bell, or at least where the bell should have been. Evan felt as though he had never seen a space so empty as the place where the bell was supposed to hang.
When she reached the wooden crossbeam, Grandma stopped. She looked around, and then looked back at the empty space. In the dim light, Evan couldn't see her face very well, but what he saw frightened him. She didn't look like his grandmother. She looked strange, with one arm missing inside her coat and the empty, flopping sleeve hanging like a dead fish. Her knitted cap was crooked on her head, and one strand of gray hair hung down and curled around her neck. Her eyes were searching for something, but the dying light made it harder and harder to see. Evan looked around to try to understand what she was looking for, but the thick blanket of snow seemed to transform every rock, every tree, every shape into something else. It was hard to make sense of any of it.
"Did you take the bell?" asked his grandmother sharply.
"No!" said Evan.
"Where is it? What have you done with it?"
"I don't know, Grandma. I didn't do anything with it."
"Give it back. Right now. It isn't yours to take."
"I didn't take it," said Evan, his panic growing. He had to figure out some way to get Grandma home. But when he took a step toward her, she backed up and nearly fell over. Evan froze in his tracks.
"Who are you?" she asked angrily.
"Grandma, it's me. It's Evan."
"Thief. You're a bell thief." Grandma looked at the crossbeam again and then at the sky. Evan tried desperately to think of how he was going to get Grandma home. She was tired. She was cold. He could see that now. He had to figure out how to take care of her. But he couldn't think. Should he leave her here and go get help? Should he try to force her to go home? How was he going to get her to safety without hurting her?
"Grandma, it's me. Evan. I'm your grandson. I need to get you home, okay?" Again Evan took a step toward her, and this time Grandma did fall over backwards, trying to move away from him. She landed sitting down in the soft snow, her bad arm still tucked inside her coat. Evan didn't think she was hurt, but the fall seemed to frighten her even more. She looked at Evan as if he had pushed her down, even though he was standing ten feet away from her.
"Stay away!" she said. "You won't get away with this." She looked around her again, and said, "Where's Susan?"
Evan didn't know what to do. He didn't know what to say. The truth made no sense as long as Grandma didn't know who he was.
He tried to think. He tried to imagine what it must feel like to be his grandmother right now.
Finally, he said, "Susan sent me, Mrs. Joyce. She asked me to bring you home. She's waiting for you at home." Evan waited to see how she would respond.
"Good," said Grandma. "I need to speak with her. There's been a problem. A very big problem." But she didn't seem to remember what the problem was.
"Can I help you up?" asked Evan. He didn't move toward her.
"Yes. Help me up. Then take me to Susan. I need to speak with her."
Evan slowly walked over to his grandmother and helped lift her to her feet. It was hard to get her up, and he could feel his muscles straining, but he was able to do it.
"What's your name?" asked Grandma, straightening her cap on her head.
Suddenly, Evan recalled a character in a story that he and Jessie had made up when they were younger. "Grumpminster Fink. At your service, madam." He crooked out his arm.
"That's a very strange name," she said, but she took hold of his elbow, and slowly they made their way down off the hill, out of the woods, away from the falling night, and into the warmth and brightness of the house.
Chapter 7
Chickens
Jessie looked up from her notebook as Evan walked into the living room. She and Maxwell had spent most of the day walking all over Grandma's property, looking for someone to spy on. Now they were watching Get Smart while Jessie wrote important notes that would help them with their spy mission. They'd finished watching the episode called "Diplomat's Daughter" and were about to watch the one where Maxwell Smart disguises himself as a giant chicken. At the top of the first page of her notebook, Jessie had written, "The Bell Bandit," which she thought sounded just like the title of a real episode from the show.
When Evan walked in, Jessie was surprised to see that he had his snow boots on. "Not allowed!" she said, pointing her pencil at the dripping boots. "You're tracking in snow!"
"Mom!" shouted Evan. "Mom, can you come here?" Jessie looked at Evan's face. It didn't look the way it usually did. It almost looked like Evan was scared of something. But that didn't make any sense, because there was nothing to be afraid of here in the house. Jessie looked over at Maxwell. He hadn't even noticed that Evan had come in the room. He was busy watching the television.
"What is it?" shouted Mrs. Treski from the second floor.
Evan took the stairs two at a time. Ten seconds later, Mrs. Treski came hurrying down with Evan right behind her. Without saying a word, they disappeared into the kitchen. Jessie slowly got up from the couch and wandered after them, not sure she wanted to see what was going on.
In the kitchen, Jessie's mom was trying to take Grandma's coat off, but Grandma kept twisting away, saying it was time to feed the chickens.
Chickens! Just like on Get Smart. But Jessie knew that Grandma didn't keep chickens anymore. She used to, for years and years, and Jessie remembered the smelly coop and the soft fluff of feathers when she held a hen and the warm, smooth eggs that came in all different colors. That had been a long time ago, when Jessie was just a little kid. Why was Grandma saying she had to feed the chickens now?
"I'll feed the chickens, Mrs. Joyce," said Evan. Why was Evan calling Grandma Mrs. Joyce? "I'll take care of everything."
"You don't know how!" said Grandma angrily. "Susan, stop it. I have my chores to do." She swatted at Jessie's mom with her good hand and twisted away again.
"Yes, I do," said Evan. "The feed is in the barn, in the barrel to the left of the door. I fill the empty milk jug then shake it into the two feeders. And then I refill the pan with fresh water."
Grandma stopped struggling. "How do you know that?"
"I used to feed the chickens for you all the time," said Evan. Jessie thought his voice sounded funny, like it was being squeezed out of a toothpaste tube.
"Did you?" Her voice was quiet. She looked at Evan for a long time. "All right, then."
Evan walked out the back door and headed for the barn. Where was he going?
"Come on, Mom," said Mrs. Treski, helping Grandma out of her coat. Grandma was very quiet now. It looked as if she was concentrating really hard on a particularly difficult jigsaw puzzle.
Mrs. Treski led Grandma out of the kitchen. Jessie followed them into the living room and watched them go upstairs.
"You don't see that every day," Jessie murmured.
"You certainly don't," said Maxwell, right on cue, his eyes still glued to the TV set.
Seconds later Evan walked in through the front door.
"Why did you pretend to feed the chickens?" Jessie blurted out.
Evan pointed to the ceiling. "Is she upstairs?"
<
br /> "Yeah, with Mom." Jessie looked at Evan's face. "There are no chickens, Evan!"
Evan shrugged. "Yeah, I know. I just thought it would be the easiest thing. I don't know."
"Is she pretending she doesn't know you again?"
"It's not pretending, Jessie!" Evan sounded angry. Why would he be angry? What had she done?
"That doesn't make sense," said Jessie. "You don't just forget someone in your family. That's not possible."
"Yeah, well, tell Grandma that. You can talk to her. She remembers you." And now Jessie was positive that Evan was angry.
"None of this makes sense," said Jessie. "I'm going to go get Mom."
"No!" said Evan. "Leave her alone. She's taking care of Grandma."
"So?" said Jessie. "She can still talk to me." She headed for the stairs.
"Don't!" And the way he said it made Jessie stop and turn around. Maxwell laughed loudly at something that was on the TV, and Evan looked at him. Then in a quiet voice, Evan said, "Why does he have to be here?"
"Because we're watching TV," Jessie said. What was wrong with Maxwell? Why didn't Evan want him around?
"Whatever," said Evan, and he headed for the kitchen. But before he left the room, he turned and said, "You were right. The bell's gone. We saw it, Grandma and me. Just before she went loopy."
Jessie went back to the couch and sat down next to Maxwell. Maybe there was something about the bell being gone that made Grandma forget. Jessie had been talking about the missing bell the first time Grandma went loopy. Now Grandma had seen that the bell was gone. Jessie wondered if the bell was part of the problem. If the bell were back where it belonged, the way it had always been, would Grandma be better?
"Tomorrow is New Year's Eve," Jessie said to Maxwell. "We've got to find that bell before midnight tomorrow."
Chapter 8
Out of Whack
The next morning, Pete showed Evan how to use a plumb bob to determine a true vertical. They were replacing the windows on the second floor, and they needed to get the window casings set in straight. It turned out to be a lot trickier than he thought.
The Bell Bandit Page 4
