I like Oak Hill Cemetery, and right now I'm not resting in peace. If you build a shopping center here, it will be over my dead body.
Get it? Just a little cemetery humor.
It's time to talk. Meet me at my grave at 3:15 Monday ... or else!
Your Old Aunt Blabbermouth,
Loraine
After that, we walked outside and re-leased Chuckie. He walked away, alone.
"Call me crazy," I said. "But I had a really funny thought. Remember when Chuckie said Neil might have tried to be nice? That he was lonely? Do you think that's because the Chuckster is lonely, too?"
Kyle said, "He really doesn't have any friends. Who'd be friends with somebody that rotten?"
"Maybe he's not trying to scam us with his bodyguard service. Maybe he's lonely," I said. "But I still don't trust him."
"Yeah," said Lucy. "Some people have tarantulas for pets. They say the spider would never hurt them. That they're just misunderstood. That they're really furry and sweet. I'm glad—for the spiders—that somebody thinks they're cute. But I'd rather have a puppy."
We went to my house and into my bedroom. I knelt next to my bed and held my nose. Then I felt around until my hand sank into something gooey. Spludge. I pulled it out. "What is that?" asked Lucy.
"I'm not sure what it was. Now it's a blackish, softish, goopish something."
"And it REEKS!" said Kyle.
"It's perfect," we said together. We smeared it on the envelope and mailed the letter.
13. Voice from the Grave
On Monday, we got everything ready at the cemetery. We put Scarface in the tree hole, along with some peanuts. With a bunch of peanuts, Scarface would stay put. We put a walkie-talkie in there, too, and taped the "talk" button down. We posted Chuckie at the gate. Then we went to the hill with the other walkie-talkie and binoculars. We were ready.
All we needed was Neil. Had he gotten the letter? Did he believe it? Would he come?
At 3:17 Neil drove up in his big black rich guy car. He got out and looked over his shoulder. He pulled his hat low on his head and walked toward Loraine's grave.
I crossed my fingers. "So far so good," I said.
Neil got to Loraine's grave. "Hello?" we heard him say through the walkie-talkie. "Hello. Anybody here?"
"Come on, Scarface," whispered Kyle. "Say hello."
But Scarface didn't.
"Auntie," Neil said. "Are you here?" He waited, but Scarface still didn't talk. Neil threw up his arms. "This is dumb. It's just some kind of prank. There's no such thing as ghosts. I knew it." He spun around to leave.
"Come on, Scarface," whispered Kyle. "Talk."
Neil started to walk away. Suddenly...
"Hello. Hello. Hello hello hello," Scarface said.
Neil stopped dead in his tracks and looked around frantically. "W-w-who's there?"
"Loraaaaine," said Scarface. "Wooo-oooo."
Neil looked over his shoulder and skulked back to the grave. "Auntie?" he said.
"I know something you don't know," Scarface sang, the way Chuckie had a few days ago.
"What?!"
"I know something you don't know," Scarface sang again.
"Y-y-you do?" asked Neil. His voice was shaky. "What do you know? Do you know about the tax scam? The forgery? The gambling? What?"
Wow. Neil did all that?
"Tax scam. Forgery. Gambling," Scarface repeated. "Gotcha!"
"Auntie! Please!" Neil whined. "I'll get in trouble if you blab."
"Blabbermouth blabbermouth."
"This is a small town. If you blab, everything will be plastered in the newspaper. All my customers will think I'm a rat. I'll be ruined. I could even go to jail!"
"Neil's a dirty rat. Dirty rat dirty rat dirty rat."
Neil crumbled to his knees. "Come on, Auntie. Come ON!" He started blubbering. He was practically drowning in blubber.
He wiped his nose on his sleeve and said, "Okay. You win. I'll call off the shopping center deal."
Neil dragged himself up. He slumped away, slowly at first. Then he started running like crazy.
We skidded down the hill so we could get a good look at his smarmy face. On the sidewalk, Neil almost smashed into Chuckie.
"Hey, buddy," said Chuckie. "Is something wrong? You look like you've seen a ghost or something."
Neil jumped in his car and squealed away.
The dust settled. A crow cawed, then nothing. Now it was quiet. Perfectly quiet. Dead quiet.
"NICE JOB, GANG. I KNEW YOU COULD DO IT."
Yowzer! Big Voice.
HE was our client!
14. Pay Dirt
The article was in the paper a few days later:
LA MALLE IS DEAD
Plans for La Malle, the eagerly awaited shopping center, have been canceled, a spokesperson for Double L Investments announced yesterday. This development was unexpected. "I know the folks in Grafton would have enjoyed these shops," said Neil Lamonde of Double L Investments. "But I've decided to allow the property to remain a cemetery These people are my family. In my opinion, it's 'family first.'"
Mr. Lamonde also announced that he's leaving town. "I need to put in some quality me-time," he said in a phone interview from his new home in Manzanillo, Mexico.
"We did it!" yelled Kyle. "We shut out the shopping center."
"We solved the world's greatest case!" Lucy yelled. "And it wasn't Chuckie's scheme after all. We had a real, live client."
"Braaaaack!" squawked Scarface.
Call me crazy, but I'm the kind of detective who likes to dot all the i's and cross all the t's on a case. "Just a minute," I said. "A few things are still bothering me."
"Like what?" asked Kyle.
"Well, how did Big Voice find us? How did he know we were detectives?"
Kyle and Lucy shrugged.
"And another thing is Chuckie. I can't figure out why he wanted to hang with us. Was it just to make money ... or do you think it's like he said about Neil? That he's not totally rotten? Maybe he's trying to be nice? Maybe he's lonely?"
"He hasn't even asked for his money yet. I think Willie's right," Lucy said. "Maybe we should feel sorry for him..."
"And let him join Scarf ace Detectives?!" I asked.
Kyle shuddered. "Maybe Chuckie's not totally rotten. But he mostly is."
Ding-dong. It was the doorbell. We answered it.
It was Chuckie. He didn't look that nice.
"Ahem," he said. He held out his big hand. "Aren't you forgetting something?"
"Congratulations," I said, reaching out carefully and then shaking his hand.
"Yeah yeah yeah," said Chuckie, dropping my hand like a stone. "But I'm not after thanks, I'm after the dough. You owe me, big-time. If you don't pay now, I'm charging interest. The clock is ticking. Tick tick tick—ka-ching!"
"Oh." I smiled. Chuckie was back to being greedy and rotten. We didn't have to feel sorry for him!
Lucy asked, "How much is Chuckie's tab?" I added it up:
Per diem charge (3 days @ $2.00) $6.00
Tree hole idea 1.00
Mongo info 5.00
Total charge: $12.00
"It's twelve bucks," I said. Then we coughed up the dough.
Chuckie slid the money into his pocket.
"Thank you." He smiled his cheesy salesman smile. "It's been a real pleasure doing business with you." He reached into his pocket and pulled out some business cards. "You can pass these out to your friends."
The card said:
CHUCKIE'S BODYGUARD SERVICE
PROVEN RESULTS
REFERENCE: SCARFACE DETECTIVES
"I listed you as references," he said. "I hope you don't mind."
"Not at all," said Lucy. "We'd be happy to provide references. Let's say a dollar each?"
"You're gonna charge for a reference?" asked Chuckie.
"Each one. We are business people," I reminded him.
"Ka-ching!" said Scarface.
"Whatever," said Chuckie. "We
ll, anyway, I gotta be going. I have to think of how I'm going to invest my earnings. You know how it is with money. You snooze, you lose." And he took off.
"Good old Chuckie's back to being totally rotten," said Kyle. "So we don't have to let him join the agency!" He high-fived Lucy and me.
"And La Malle is history," said Lucy. "We even figured out that Big Voice was our client. Are we brilliant or what? Case closed. Now everybody can rest in peace."
But there were two more t's left uncrossed. "Let's go back to the cemetery, to have one last look around," I said.
15. My Dead Friends
"It doesn't even feel creepy to stand on Loraine's grave anymore," I said.
"Yeah. It's like she's a friend now," said Lucy.
Scarface made her kissing noises, "Mwiiip mwiiip mwiiip."
"It doesn't even matter so much that we lost twelve dollars," Kyle said. "It was for a good cause. It's nice to know these dead guys don't have to move."
"YOU LOST TWELVE DOLLARS?" thundered a now-familiar voice. Our client.
"Yes," I said.
"WHERE DID YOU LOSE THE MONEY? BECAUSE IF IT WAS HERE, I COULD LOOK FOR IT." Big Voice walked from behind a bush. How long had he been standing there? Had he been hiding? Man, he really was weird.
"We hired Chuckie to be our bodyguard," Lucy said. "That's what he charged for protection."
"OHHH, THAT'S TOO BAD." Big Voice looked droopy and sad. Like melted plastic. "I DON'T LIKE MY FRIENDS TO LOSE MONEY."
"It's okay," I said. "It was for a good cause."
"TAKE THIS." Big Voice reached in his pocket and pulled out a ten and two ones.
"No, really," I said. "It's okay."
"I INSIST!" thundered Big Voice.
You don't argue with a guy that size. "Thanks," I said, taking the money.
"YOU KIDS REALLY DID A GOOD JOB.
I KNEW YOU COULD DO IT! I KNEW AS SOON AS I SAW YOUR POSTER."
So that's how Big Voice found us. The poster. Now there was just one more thing.
Big Voice grinned. "MY DEAD FRIENDS WILL BE HAPPY. THEY DON'T WANT TO MOVE."
"I know," Kyle said. "Nobody likes to move."
"MY DEAD FRIENDS AND I ARE GOING TO HAVE A PARTY NOW," Big Voice yelled. "TO CELEBRATE. WANNA COME?"
"Uh, no," said Lucy, looking at her watch. "We're late for, uh, an appointment. We have to go."
"OH. THAT'S TOO BAD." Big Voice had his melted-plastic face again. "BUT LORAINE WANTED YOU TO HAVE A REWARD."
Loraine?
Big Voice handed us a piece of paper. It was a gift certificate to the Chocolate Factory. For three Gigunda sundaes and one peanut butter sundae.
"THE GIGUNDAS ARE FOR YOU, AND THE PEANUT BUTTER SUNDAE IS FOR SCARFACE. LORAINE LO-O-O-OVES SCARFACE."
"Loraine. Loraine. Mwiiip mwiiip mwiiip," said Scarface.
"CONGRATULATIONS ON THE CASE," yelled Big Voice, flapping his huge paw goodbye at us.
As we were leaving, Lucy said, "I'm glad it wasn't Chuckie's scam after all. I'm glad we had an actual client, even if he was a weirdo."
"I guess," I said. There was still that last t, though, the one that had me stumped. "But I was never really convinced it was Chuckie or Big Voice. I still have this skin crawly feeling, like maybe it really was the ghost of Loraine."
"Phooey," said Kyle. "I don't believe in ghosts. It's creepy fun to think about. But I think ghosts are just television stuff. They aren't real."
"Yeah," I said. "Anyway, we solved the world's greatest case. And my plan was brilliant."
Just then, somebody patted me on the back. "Thanks," I said to Kyle.
"For what?" he asked.
"Patting me on the back," I said.
"I didn't," he said.
"Lucy?" I asked. She shook her head no.
"Then who did?" I asked.
"Loraaaaaine," said Scarface.
About the Author
Barbara M. Joosse is the author of four previous Wild Willie books and many other popular books for children, including the best-selling Mama, Do You Love Me? and I Love You the Purplest. She lives in Cedarburg, Wisconsin. You can learn more about Barbara M. Joosse at www.barbarajoosse.com.
About the Illustrator
Abby Carter has illustrated humorous books for children of all ages. Among her most recent chapter books are Andy Shane and the Very Bossy Dolores Starbuckle and The Best Seat in Second Grade. She lives in Hadlyme, Connecticut.
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