Kyle poked at the newspaper. "That's it! The cemetery's being sold to make room for a shopping center! Who's the slimeball who's moving all the dead bodies?"
Lucy slapped her hand to her head. "Hey! I just thought of something. Remember that long tube Mr. Briefcase was carrying? Remember when he pulled rolled-up papers out and showed them to the lady? I know what those papers were—blueprints."
"Yeah!" said Kyle, hopping around. "You use blueprints when you build something. Like a house—"
"OR A SHOPPING CENTER!" I said. "I bet those were blueprints for the shopping center!"
"In that case, Mr. Briefcase is Mr. Slimeball," Kyle said.
"He-he-he." Chuckie grinned like a cheesy salesman. "This caper keeps getting better and better," he said.
"Our client said, 'We don't want to move.' She wants us to stop the sale," I said.
"If you were dead ... and you were buried, all nice and cozy ... and you were used to your place ... and maybe you even had neighbors you liked who were buried there, too ... then you wouldn't want to move. Right?" Lucy said.
"Right," Kyle said. "Nobody likes to move." He looked at the article again. "Who's Double L Investments anyway? And it says that the cemetery is privately owned. Who owns it? And who's Mr. Slimeball?"
"YOU'RE BACK AGAIN!" came a big, loud voice. "I KNEW YOU'D BE BACK."
9. Something About That Name
I spun around, and there was Big Voice. In the creepy-crawly flesh.
Chuckie stood square in front of Lucy.
"AND I SEE YOU BROUGHT YOUR FRIENDS," said Big Voice.
"Y-y-yes," I said.
"CAN YOU STAY A WHILE? I HAVE SOME COOKIES IN MY LUNCH BUCKET. WE COULD HAVE A PICNIC. I'M DYING FOR A PICNIC. HE-HE. THAT'S A LITTLE CEMETERY HUMOR." Big Voice dangled his metal lunch bucket in front of our faces and smiled. His smile didn't have fangs in it, which at least was something.
"Well, uh, it's nice of you to ask," said Lucy. "But I hear my dad calling us." She pretended to listen for something. "Yup. That's Dad all right. Big bad Dad. Did I mention my dad is a karate expert?" Lucy pretended to listen again. She yelled over her shoulder, "We're coming, Dad. We'll be right there." She turned to Big Voice. "Gotta go!"
Then we ran out of the cemetery. Chuckie hung behind, protecting our rear. We met him outside the gate.
Chuckie said, "Who was that loud guy? A pervert?"
"We're not sure," said Kyle. "But we think he's the groundskeeper for the cemetery."
"Wow," said Chuckie. "Ghosts and pervs. Where are we going now?"
"To headqua..." I started to say. But I didn't want Chuckie to know.
"Oh," Chuckie said. "You're going to headquarters at Kyle's?"
I sighed. "Yeah."
When we got there, Kyle said, "Chuckie, you can go home now. We don't need your services here."
"Okay. But you still owe me for a whole day," Chuckie said.
"Yes," I said.
"Another day, another dollar," said Chuckie, and he left.
"Hands up, scumbag," said Scarface when we got upstairs to headquarters.
"Hi, Scarface," Kyle said.
"Let's review," I said, taking out my notebook. "What do we know?"
"Well, now we know the reason the cemetery is being sold. We think the scumbag is Mr. Briefcase. We need to find out who Mr. Briefcase and Double L Investments are," Lucy said.
I took notes.
"And, of course, we still don't know who our client is," Kyle said.
"Loraine was an amateur detective. We've had two communications right at her grave. And there's that creepy feeling, like someone is watching us, maybe her ghost."
"Maybe you're right about being watched," Lucy said. "But maybe the 'watcher' is somebody alive. Don't you think it's funny that Chuckie was waiting for us when we got out of headquarters? Like he knew we'd be creeped out? Do you think Chuckie's the one who's been following us all along?"
"And think about this," Kyle said. "How did Chuckie know to look in that tree for the newspaper?"
"Willie, what's Chuckie's tab?" asked Lucy.
I turned to the finance page. "We owe Chuckie two dollars for today and a dollar for an idea. So three bucks."
"Chuckie gets two dollars a day, PLUS he charges for ideas. If I know Chuckie, he's going to have lots of ideas," Lucy said.
"Maybe it's Chuckie's scam," I said. "But it sure felt great to have big old Chuckie watching our rear in the cemetery with Big Voice and all those creepy graves."
Lucy and Kyle nodded.
"Let's investigate ... and keep our eye on Chuckie at the same time," I said.
"Okay," Kyle said. "Let's look at the news paper again." We crammed our heads together.
"There's something about that article," Lucy said. "Something smells fishy."
"What do you mean?" I asked.
"I'm not sure." She looked at the article again. "Something about the name of the mall, La Malle."
"It's a stupid name," said Kyle. "But shopping centers usually have stupid names."
"No, not that," she said. "Something about the name....It rings a bell."
Ding-dong.
"Hello. Come in. Hello hello," said Scarface.
It was the doorbell.
10. Wizard of Worm
We rushed to the front door.
"Yer under arrest!" said Scarface as Chuckie burst in.
"I smell a rat," said Scarface.
"Hey!" said Chuckie. "That parrot's a regular blabbermouth."
"Blabbermouth. Blab blab blabbermouth," Scarface repeated.
"Chuckie," Lucy said. "What are you doing here? We told you to go home."
"I know," said Chuckie. "I did. But then I had a brainstorm. Let's get to headquarters and I'll tell you the scoop."
Man, I sure didn't like the way this was going down. Chuckie was horning in on our case. He was taking over and he was making loot. "Not so fast," I said. "Headquarters is only for detectives."
"How come?" Chuckie asked.
"There's ... uh ... a lot of delicate information there," I said.
"Right," Kyle said. "Confidential information. We'd like to let you up there, but we can't. Anyway, what's the scoop?"
"He-he. Let's just say I have some delicate information of my own. Let's just say"—he sang this part—"I know something you don't know."
"I know something you don't know," Scarf ace sang.
"Then spill," said Lucy.
"Remember when you said to seal my lips? Well, the thing is, once a person's lips are sealed, it's hard to open them."
"You mean, it's expensive," said Lucy.
"Exactly," said Chuckie.
"How expensive?" I asked.
"I think of it like this. Little bits of information are cheap. Big bits are expensive. But this information is MONGO." He held out his hand. "Ten bucks."
Lucy shot arrow-eyes at Chuckie. "Forget it," she said. "There's no way we're going to pay that much. Anyway, how do we know it's mongo information?"
"Take my word for it," Chuckie said.
"Five bucks if it's mongo, nothing if it's not. Take it or leave it," I said.
"Take it," Chuckie said. "I found out who Double L Investments is," he whispered. We had to lean in to hear him. His breath smelled like taco chips.
"WHO?" we said at once.
"A guy named Neil Lamonde."
"Neil! Loraine's greedy nephew!" cried Lucy. "He's the one who sold her house to Kyle's mom and dad ... while Loraine's dead body was practically still warm. Of course! He'd be the weasely scumbag with his fingers in the pot."
"Then Neil is Mr. Briefcase!" I yelled. "The guy who stole dead people's flowers at the cemetery. What a dirty rat!"
"Neil's a dirty rat. Dirty rat dirty rat dirty rat," Scarface repeated.
"And that's why the name of the shopping center rang a bell," Lucy said. "Because La Malle sounds like Lamonde."
"Chuckie, how did you get this information?" I asked.
"I know all, I see
all," said Chuckie.
"I know all, I see all," Scarface repeated.
"I asked around until I found somebody who knew who Double L Investments was. I can worm information out of anybody," Chuckie said cheerfully. "I have a gift."
That was Chuckie, all right. The Wizard of Worm. The question is, Had the worm turned? Was Chuckie ripping us off?
Chuckie thumped a thick finger into my chest. "Willie, don't forget to put five more bucks on the tab."
I wrote down $5. Chuckie was already getting $8, and it was only the first day. PLUS he was horning in on our business.
"What do we do next?" asked Kyle.
"I could pound Neil," said Chuckie helpfully. He cracked his knuckles. "It would be so much fun, I wouldn't even charge. It would be on the house."
"Chuckie! You can't go around pounding people," Lucy said.
"Why not?" he asked.
"He's a grownup, for one thing," I said.
"It's against the law," said Kyle. "You could be arrested."
"Plus, it isn't nice. There are other ways to solve problems, you know," said Lucy.
"Maybe," said Chuckie. "But pounding has always worked for me. Anyway, what other ways are there?"
"Interrogation. Surveillance. Plans," I said. "To name a few."
"See, Chuckie, when it comes to plans, Willie's the expert," Kyle said. "He's probably already thought of a way to get Neil to leave the cemetery alone. Right, Willie?"
"Uh ... right!" Actually, I didn't have a plan. I had a headache. But maybe my head hurt because there was a plan in there. Any minute the plan would pop out. Then my headache would be gone. And La Malle would be history. And we would have solved the world's greatest case.
And best of all? I'd be the hero. Not Chuckie, the Wizard of Worm.
11. POP!
I'm the Idea Man. The team expected a brilliant idea out of me. And Chuckie would laugh his head off if I didn't have one. I needed a plan to stop the sale. A big, fat, foolproof, brilliant plan.
That night, I put my notebook next to the bed. I opened it up to a blank page and put a pencil there. I went to sleep and waited for inspiration.
In the morning, the page was still empty.
After breakfast, we went to the cemetery—Kyle, Scarface, Chuckie, Lucy, and me.
"So, Willie," said Chuckie. "How's the old plan coming along?"
"Great!" I said. "I have a brilliant idea that will make Mr. Briefcase turn in his blueprints." I didn't, of course. But my head sure hurt.
"What is it?" Chuckie asked.
"Well, I can't say right now," I said. "Because ... it's complicated. It has a lot of parts."
"A lot of parts, huh?" said Chuckie. "Well, time is money. The more parts to your plan, the better for me. Ka-ching!"
At the cemetery, Big Voice was mowing the lawn. He turned off the mower and grinned at us.
"HELLO, WILLIE! I SEE YOU BROUGHT THE WHOLE TEAM. EVEN SCARFACE."
How did Big Voice know my name? How did he know Scarface? How did he know we were a team?
"LORAINE WILL LIKE IT THAT HER PARROT CAME TO VISIT. LORAINE'S A NICE LADY," Big Voice yelled. He rolled the lawnmower into the shed and locked it up.
"YOU HAVE A LOT OF WORK TO DO, SO YOU PROBABLY WANT TO BE ALONE. I HAVE TO LEAVE NOW. BUT I'LL BE BACK."
How did Big Voice know we had work to do? What did he mean, he'd be back?
When we got to Loraine's grave, Scarface flew to her tombstone. "Loraaaaine!" she called. She started stroking the tombstone with her beak. "Love ya, baby. Love ya, baby. Mwiiip!"
Mwiiip is Scarf ace's kissing sound.
"Wow," I said. "Do you think Scarface knows this is Loraine's place?"
"Mwiiip mwiiip mwiiip," smacked Scarface.
"It sure seems like it," Lucy said. "I wonder how she knows Loraine's ... you know, under there?"
I shrugged. "Beats me."
Kyle crouched down and squinted at the tombstone. "Look what the stone says. 'Loraine Lamonde, beloved aunt of Neil.' What a joke. Neil's a dirty rat."
"Neil's a dirty rat. Dirty rat dirty rat," said Scarface, returning to her perch on Kyle's shoulder.
"So, Willie," said Chuckie, grinning. "Don't you think you should tell us the plan now? That is, if you really have one."
"Yeah, Willie," said Lucy. "Tell us your plan."
"Okaaaaay," I said. Man, I really had to think fast. I knew the plan was in my head somewhere. I squeezed my head and thought. But it sure was hard to think with eight eyeballs staring at me.
Suddenly, Scarface swooped off Kyle's shoulder and flew into the hole in the tree. Kyle ran up to the tree and looked inside. "Hey, Scarface, come out of there."
"Hellooooo," said Scarface in Loraine's exact voice.
"Cool! It's like the tree is talking," Chuckie said.
Yowzer! Suddenly, my head started hurting like crazy. Like it was full of something. Like something was going to pop.
"Don't worry, Kyle. Scarface will fly out when she's ready," said Lucy. "Maybe she likes it in there."
"Loraaaaine," said Scarface in Loraine's exact voice.
My head started hurting even more.
"I guess," said Kyle.
"Neil's a dirty rat. Dirty rat dirty rat," said Scarface in Loraine's exact voice ... only spookier because of the tree echo. It sure sounded funny. Almost like a gho—
POP!
12. Ka-Ching!
I stood on a tree stump. "I'm ready to reveal The Plan," I announced.
"Take your time," said Chuckie. "Tick tick tick... Ka-ching!"
"Ka-ching!" repeated Scarface in Loraine's ghostly voice.
"Okay. Here's the first part. We write a letter to Neil and tell him to come to the cemetery. We sign it 'Loraine,'" I said.
"But Loraine's dead," said Kyle. "And maybe Neil doesn't believe in ghosts."
"Woooo-ooooo," said Scarface from inside the hole.
Lucy said, "I think a letter's a great idea. Everybody kind of believes in ghosts ... even when they say they don't. We just have to convince Neil that it's really from Loraine."
"We need some kind of evidence," I said, tapping my chin. "Something that proves it's from Loraine. But what?"
Kyle waved his hand. "Information only Loraine would know! You know her detective files, the ones she left in the attic? There's secret information about all kinds of people in there—I bet there's scoop on Neil!"
"Okay," I said. "Now we get to Part Two. That's the part where we smear something really stinky on the envelope. To make it seem like it's been handled by a dead body."
"Nice touch," said Chuckie. "What are you thinking of? Dog doo? Gunk from a gym locker? Stuff from the back of a garbage truck?"
"Better," I said. "We can scrape up something from under my bed."
"I told you Willie was brilliant," Lucy said to Chuckie.
"Now for Part Three. Just before Neil comes to the cemetery, we put Scarface in the tree hole."
"Why?" said Kyle.
"Why?" repeated Scarface in Loraine's exact voice, only echo-y.
"I get it!" said Lucy. "Because when Scarface is in there, she sounds like the ghost of Loraine. It'll scare the pants off Neil."
"I thought you were a dork," Chuckie said to me. "But you're almost as sneaky as me."
"Thank you," I said. "I guess."
We went back to headquarters. Then we opened Loraine's secret file. Aha! There it was. A folder for Neil Lamonde.
We read it.
"Wow. Loraine called Neil 'Jelly Belly' when he was a kid. He must have hated it. Let's use that!" said Lucy.
"And get this!" I said. "Loraine wrote, 'Jelly Belly cheats at Monopoly. He steals money from the bank. Anybody who cheats at a game will cheat in life. I'm going to keep an eye on my nephew.'"
"So he was kind of a Junior Slimeball, huh?" Kyle said. "And a klutz, too. Look." He pointed to a bunch of report cards. "He got F's in gym."
Lucy shook her head. "How can you even get an F in gym?"
"And
he was a liar, too," I said, pointing to one of Loraine's entries. "It says here that he broke Loraine's lamp and then he said Scarface did it."
"Once a scumbag, always a scumbag, I guess," said Lucy.
"Maybe he wasn't totally rotten," said Chuckie. "Maybe he was trying to be nice. Maybe he was lonely."
"Yeah, right," said Lucy.
"Fat chance," I said, laughing. That Chuckie. Sometimes he could really be funny. But when I looked at him, he wasn't laughing. Huh?
"Maybe there's a copy of Loraine's will in the files somewhere. Maybe Neil's mentioned in it as an heir. Let's take a look under 'W' for 'Will,'" Lucy said.
There it was, under "W." Loraine's "Last Will and Testament."
"It says here that Neil inherited Loraine's house," I said.
"Then he sold it to us," Kyle said.
"And LOOK!" yelled Lucy. "He inherited the family cemetery, too. Oak Hill Cemetery! The article said it was 'privately owned.' That's because it's owned by Neil. And now he's moving his own dead relatives for a dumb shopping center."
"Well, one thing's for sure. I won't feel bad when we make Neil squirm. He deserves it. Let's write the letter," Kyle said.
Here's what we wrote:
Dear Jelly Belly,
I remember how you swiped money from the bank when we played Monopoly.
I remember when you broke my lamp. You said Scarface did it.
I remember your report cards. How could you get an F in gym?
See, Neil, I know lots of scummy things about you. And guess what? Now that I'm a ghost, I know even morel Every time you run a red light, I see it. Every time you lie, I hear it. Every time you cheat, I know it. You can pretty much say, I know all, I see all.
And I talk, too. Your dirty little secrets are NOT safe with me. You know what they say about"the silence of the grave ?" It's a big, fat lie because DEAD GUYS TALK, and I'm a regular blabbermouth.
Dead Guys Talk Page 3
