"Then our client's a ghost?" whispered Kyle. "Because ghosts don't have actual bodies. They can't move thread."
"Brilliant," said Lucy.
"Of course," I said.
"We need disguises for surveillance," Kyle said.
"You and Lucy could see the cemetery better with binoculars," I said. "Can binoculars be part of your disguise?"
"We could be birdwatchers!" said Lucy. "They're snoopy, and they sit around with notebooks and binoculars."
"Yes!" said Kyle. "We could pretend we're having a picnic on the sledding hill and watching for birds. But what do birdwatchers wear?"
"Dorky stuff," said Lucy. "Like this!"
Lucy has a big box of disguises that she donated to the agency. She reached in the box and pulled out:
wigs
shade hats
khaki stuff
a shirt with an alligator on it
one fake mustache
Kyle got out the binoculars and another notebook. "And this part is perfect," he said. "My dad's got a birdwatcher's guide. We can take that along."
"Willie, why don't you wear a football player's disguise?" said Lucy. She handed me a uniform and shoulder pads. "You won't look like you. And the padding will make you look like you have muscles. It might scare off bad guys."
"I do have muscles," I said, flexing. "But I'll wear the pads anyway."
After I was dressed, I looked at myself in the mirror. I looked great. I guess fake muscles is the reason guys become football players.
"We're ready to rock and roll," said Lucy.
We split up. Kyle and Lucy walked ahead. I walked behind (to see if they were being followed). I looked at reflections in the window (to see if I was being followed). I bent over to tie my shoe (to check for anybody suspicious). I crossed the street (to see if anyone crossed with me).
The coast was clear.
Kyle and Lucy climbed up the sledding hill across from the cemetery. Then they set up a picnic—a blanket over the ground, food on top of that. Kyle got out the bird watcher's guide. Lucy got out the binoculars. They were all set.
Now it was my turn. I leaned against a lamppost. Ho-hum. I stretched. I looked around. I tied my shoe. I crossed the street again. Nobody was following. Ready, set,...
Go! I climbed the path to the cemetery. I opened the metal gate—creeaak!—and went inside. Alone. Now it was just me and the dead guys. I was glad Lucy and Kyle were watching me with the binoculars.
I headed for Loraine's grave. I swiveled my head around, watching for anything unusual. But all the time I felt like I was being watched. I felt alone in the cemetery, but not alone. Could dead people see you from under the ground? Or did they float on top? Was I walking through their invisible bodies?
And here's the thing. If you're dead and invisible, you'd be the world's sneakiest detective.
I observed. There was a small building at the far end of the cemetery. A shed? I hadn't noticed it yesterday. I kept walking and eyeballed the tombstones. They were really old. Some were leaning and some were broken. I read the names, and this is what I noticed: A lot of the names were Lamonde! Wow! Dead Lamondes were all over the place.
Finally, I got to Loraine's grave. I got the thread out of my pocket and wound it all around. I was busy winding string from a fake flower to the tree when suddenly someone yelled, "ARE YOU LOOKING FOR SOMETHING?"
5. Big Voice
Whoa! I jerked my head up. A man was standing there. A huge man.
"Huh?" I said.
"ARE YOU LOOKING FOR SOMETHING?" said the deep, loud voice.
"N-n-no," I said. "L-L-Loraine was my neighbor. I just came for a visit."
"LORAINE WAS A GOOD LADY," said the voice. He sounded like he was yelling through a tunnel.
Loraine had practically been a hermit. She hardly left her house. She hardly let anybody inside. So how did Big Voice know about her? "Did you know her?" I asked.
"I KNOW EVERYBODY IN HERE," said Big Voice. "I TAKE CARE OF THEM."
"Y-y-you do?" I asked.
"YES. THEY'RE MY FRIENDS."
Big Voice, friends with the dead guys? Yowzer! "Gotta be going," I said. I jumped off Loraine's grave.
"COME BACK SOON!" yelled Big Voice.
I ran out of the cemetery. Big Voice yelled from behind, "DON'T BE A STRANGER!"
I ran like crazy. My good old partners were waiting for me on the picnic blanket. I dove onto the blanket—splatt!—right onto a pile of chips.
"Willie!" Lucy said. "Who was yelling at you?"
"Big Voice," I said, picking little pieces of chips out of my hair. "I don't know his real name. But he wasn't exactly yelling at me. He was just yelling."
"Just somebody loud, then," said Kyle, nodding. "Like Scarface."
"He's weird, though," I said.
"Let's see what he's up to." Lucy looked through the binoculars. "Hmm," she said. "Willie, you'd better write this down."
I flipped open the cover of our detective notebook. "Ready," I said.
"The subject is walking to a little shed," Lucy said.
I wrote that down. I wondered: What's in the shed? Dead bodies? Live ones?
"He's putting a key into a padlock, and now he's turning it," said Lucy. "He's opening the shed door ... and taking out a bushel basket. Now he's picking up sticks, and putting them in the basket."
"He's cleaning up the cemetery after the storm. Big Voice must the groundskeeper," said Kyle.
After a while, Big Voice took the basket to the curb and went back and locked up the shed. Then he walked away, swinging a lunch bucket. He was whistling.
"So what's the story on Big Voice?" asked Lucy.
"What did he say to you in the cemetery?" asked Kyle.
"You mean, what did he yell to me," I said. "He yelled that Loraine was a nice lady. That he knew everybody in the cemetery. That he took care of them. And that they were his friends."
"Hmm," said Kyle. "That is weird."
"Maybe you have to be weird to work in a cemetery," Lucy said.
I continued my report. "I set up the trap. We can inspect it after lunch, to see if it's been disturbed," I said. "And one more thing. I checked out the tombstones. There are a whole lot of Lamondes buried in there."
"That's Loraine's last name," said Lucy. "Veeeery interesting."
"No kidding," I said. "They might as well call it Lamonde Cemetery"
6. Mr. Briefcase
"Hey, I didn't know the cemetery was such a popular place. Here comes a big black car," Lucy said.
A fancy car pulled in through the gate. "Maybe it's a hearse," I said, "with a coffin inside."
"No, hearses are a different shape," said Kyle. "This is just a rich guy's car. Maybe he's visiting a dead relative." Kyle looked through the binoculars. "The rich guy's wearing shiny shoes, and he's carrying a briefcase. And a long tube."
"Look," said Lucy. "He's bending over somebody's grave. Yup. He's visiting a relative."
I looked through the binoculars. "Then how come he's taking the flowers out of the vase?" I asked.
"He's probably going to put fresh ones in," said Kyle. "You know. For the dead guy."
"Wow. He must have a lot of dead relatives because now he's going to someone else's grave. And look! He's taking out those flowers, too," I said.
After he took flowers from two more graves, Lucy said, "Mr. Briefcase is stealing flowers from dead guys! What a slime!"
Exactly at that moment, another car pulled in behind Mr. Briefcase. A lady got out. And Mr. Briefcase gave her the flowers!
"What a creep," Kyle said. He looked through the binoculars again. "Now Mr. Briefcase is showing Ms. Flowers some stuff in his briefcase. Papers. Now he's pulling a long piece of paper out of the tube. He's unrolling it. They're looking at the big paper together, and she's pointing. Now he's taking another paper out of his briefcase ... and she's signing it."
After that, Mr. Briefcase and Ms. Flowers got back in their cars and left the cemetery.
&nbs
p; "What was that all about?" I said.
"I don't know," said Lucy. "But something stinks."
OoooooOOOOOOOO! It was the noon whistle. It was time to go home for lunch. I ditched the football pads and gave them to Kyle to take to headquarters. We flicked the smooshed chips off the blanket and headed home. On the way, I had the same watching-me feeling.
Was that movement? I swiveled my head around, but nothing was there. Was that breathing? No, just the wind. Were those footsteps? Just mine. Still...
Mom was in the kitchen, heating up soup. I lifted the lid to see what kind. Cheesy cheddar, my favorite. Mom spooned some into a bowl. I breathed in the soup smell.
"How's the case going?" Mom asked.
Should I tell her that this was the creepiest case we'd ever had? That we were surveilling in a cemetery and that a weird guy yelled at me and that we had a client who might be dead? Should I mention that I kept having a shivery feeling, like someone was watching me?
Would you?
"Fine," I said, and took a spoonful of soup.
"Who's your client?" Mom asked.
"I can't tell you. It's confidential."
"Naturally," said Mom. "What's the mystery you have to solve, then?"
"Sorry," I said. "Confidential."
"Oh," Mom said. "I guess the whole thing is confidential, then."
"Yup."
"Just as long as you're home in time for dinner." Mom scruffled my hair. She picked out a chip piece. "A new hair product?" she asked, holding up the chip.
"Yes," I said. "It's for texture."
7. Bodyguard Service
At headquarters, there were clothes and wigs everywhere. "More disguises?" I asked.
"Yes," Lucy said. "We're going back to the cemetery to check the thread. We don't want anyone to recognize our old disguises."
"Yowzer," I said. "This is getting complicated."
"I know," said Lucy. "But safety first."
I put on a Chicago Cubs cap. I put on a brand-name T-shirt. I put on sunglasses. I looked like a Chicago city kid.
Kyle put on a nerd costume—plastic pocket protector, fake glasses with duct tape, a weird shirt. Lucy put on a girlie-girl outfit—a dress with a swirly skirt and shoes with bows on them.
"Hubba-hubba," said Scarface to Lucy.
"Wow!" said Kyle, as Lucy turned around. "You sure don't look like you."
"Thank you," said Lucy.
We looked in the mirror. "Nobody will ever guess it's us," I said.
"Then let's adios," said Lucy.
"This is really a creepy case," I said as we walked outside. I picked up a big stick.
"No kidding," said Kyle, snapping off a thorny branch. "Cemeteries and ghosts and nut cases. I wouldn't mind a little protection."
"Yeah. Something so big and bad it would scare off anything," Lucy said, grabbing a rock.
"Even weirdos," said Kyle.
"sOr ghosts," said Lucy.
"If there are such things," I said.
As we walked, I heard the breathing-footsteps thing again. I saw the moving shadows. This time I was positive. It wasn't the wind. It wasn't my imagination. Somebody was following us.
I flipped open my notebook and wrote: "I think somebody's following us. Do you?" Then I passed the note to my partners. Kyle and Lucy both nodded. We were walking next to the big dark hedgerow when suddenly...
Sproing!
It was Chuckie. "Well....If it isn't Scarface Detectives."
"How did you know it's us?" said Kyle. "We're wearing disguises."
"You can't fool a fooler," said Chuckie. "Where are you going?"
"We're on a case," Kyle said.
"I see you're carrying sticks and rocks. I guess you're scared of something. Need some help?" Chuckie asked. He reached in his pocket and whipped out a business card. It said:
CHUCKIE'S BODYGUARD SERVICE
*24-HOUR PROTECTION*
*24-HOUR PEACE OF MIND*
"Bodyguard service?" Kyle asked.
"The world is full of creeps and pervs. I'm big and I'm rotten. I scare everybody," Chuckie said.
"This isn't a free service, though, is it?" I asked.
"Of course not," said Chuckie. "I am a businessman."
"A low-down crook is more like it," said Lucy. "Which is exactly what we don't need. Get lost."
There are only two people in the entire universe who can say "Get lost" to the Chuckster. His mother and Lucy. Chuckie's mother can say it because she feeds him. Lucy can say it because Chuckie used to be in love with her. Maybe he still is.
"I can take the hint," said Chuckie. "I'll make like a tree and leave." He hopped on his dirt bike and started to pedal away.
He had almost disappeared when Lucy yelled, "Wait!"
Chuckie screeched on the brakes and came back. He was grinning.
I sighed. "How much?" I asked.
Chuckie popped three purple jawbreakers into his mouth. All at the same time. The jawbreakers clacked around in his mouth like breaking bones. "Mrklbrkl?" Chuckie mumbled.
"Chuckie, we can't understand you with your mouth full," Lucy said.
Chuckie spit the jawbreakers into his hand. They floated around like three purple heads in a lake of purple slime. He said, "This is the consultation. This is the free part. After that, it's a dollar per person per diem."
"THREE DOLLARS A DAY?" Lucy asked.
"No. A dollar for Willie. A dollar for Kyle." He smiled again. "But I won't charge you, Lucille. You're on the house."
"We need to conference," I said.
"Alone," Lucy said.
"Make it quick," said Chuckie. "This is still the free part."
We huddled.
"I have a bad feeling about this," I said. "This could be a setup. Maybe Chuckie's just making us scared so he can cash in."
"But if the case is for real, Chuckie would make a great bodyguard," Lucy said.
"Two bucks a day is expensive, but maybe we can solve the case in a couple of days," Kyle said. "Then it wouldn't cost so much."
"I'd really like 24-hour peace of mind," I said.
"And I'll chip in," said Lucy. "Even though I'm actually free."
I still had a bad feeling about hiring Chuckie, but I turned around. "Okay, Chuckie. You're hired."
"You won't be sorry," said Chuckie cheerfully. "Everybody's afraid of me. Who's after you, anyway?" Chuckie popped the jawbreakers back in his mouth one by one. He wiped his hand on his shorts.
"We don't know if anyone's after us or not," said Kyle. "We're hiring you just in case."
"Just stick with us and don't ask questions," said Lucy.
"Wmy wlips are wsealed," Chuckie said. He tried to close his lips, to demonstrate. But he couldn't get his mouth around the jawbreakers. A little purple drool dribbled down his chin.
8. Some Slimeball
Chuckie slurped his jawbreakers and stomped his feet on the sidewalk. He crossed his arms over his chest. He was big. He was mean. He was bad.
Here's the good part: Big old Chuckie would scare the bad guys off.
Here's the bad part: Hiring Chuckie was like having a pet rattlesnake. You never knew when the worm would turn.
"What are we doing in a cemetery?" Chuckie asked when we got there.
Kyle, Lucy, and I looked at one another. How much should we tell Chuckie? He was our paid bodyguard, but the less he knew, the better.
Lucy said, "No offense, Chuckie, but we can't tell you everything. We're in the cemetery because our case is here."
"You mean your client?" Chuckie said.
"Uh ... we don't actually know who our client is. But we get messages here," Kyle said.
"How come he leaves messages in a cemetery?" asked Chuckie.
"We don't know," I said. "But the case we're on has something to do with the cemetery."
"Let me get this straight," Chuckie said. "You have a mysterious client who you've never seen with your eyeballs. And your case has something to do with the cemetery. Ghost work, huh?
And I thought you guys were weenies."
What was Chuckie, anyway? A wizard? How did he worm all that out of us?
When we got to Loraine's grave, we checked out the thread. It was still up.
We circled the grave. "There isn't a note," Kyle said. "And nobody's torn down the thread, so nobody's been here. Now what?"
I said, "I guess we'll come back tomorrow, then."
"WAIT!" Chuckie held up his hands. "There was a note here before?"
We nodded.
"Where?"
"Tacked to the tree," I said.
"What if your client put the note somewhere else, close by?" Chuckie said.
"Like where?" Lucy asked.
"I have an idea," Chuckie said, slurping his jawbreakers. "But so far you're only paying for bodyguard services. Not idea services."
"CHUCKIE!" Lucy said.
"I am a businessman. But I like to see my customers satisfied. How about this arrangement? If I find a note, you pay a dollar. If I don't, my idea is on the house."
"Deal," I said.
Chuckie reached into the hole in the tree. "Pay dirt," he said.
How did Chuckie think of looking in the tree hole? Something was definitely fishy.
Chuckie pulled out a newspaper. An article was circled in red:
SHOPPING CENTER TO BE BUILT
The Grafton Chamber of Commerce announced that a new shopping center will be built next year in Grafton. The enclosed mall, to be named La Malle, will be built on the corner of Bridge and Oak Streets. Construction will begin next April and will be completed the following year.
A spokesperson for Double L Investments announced six retail businesses will occupy the space—Food Market, Fry Guy, the Office Place, Mona's Threads, House of Kurl, and In Sense Perfumes.
The property is currently Oak Hill Cemetery, a small privately owned cemetery. Most of the graves are very old. The bodies will be relocated to the larger Grafton Cemetery prior to construction.
Dead Guys Talk Page 2
