The Secret of the Missing Grave

by David Crossman

  “I don’t think anybody saw us,” said Bean.

  They listened intently for another thirty seconds and were rewarded with silence. “Okay,” said Spooky. “The coast is clear.”

  Bean turned on the flashlight, directing it at the floor to avoid detection from outside. They were about to begin their exploration when, all at once, a sound overhead froze them in their tracks.

  “Somebody’s comin’ ,” said Spooky.

  Bean flicked off the flashlight.

  Somewhere in the darkness above, a door squeaked open and stealthy footsteps began descending the stairs. Mierette and Monty spoke in hushed whispers, and the candles they carried threw long, wavering shadows on the irregular walls and pilings.

  “This is spooky,” said Spooky in his lowest possible whisper.

  Bean nudged Spooky to a place under the stairway. Through large cracks in the treads, they could watch clearly without being seen.

  “There was nobody there,” said Mierette.

  “Kids playin’ pranks,” Monty theorized.

  “What do we do now?” said Mierette.

  Monty was inspecting the walls closely, every now and then rapping them sharply with a crowbar. “Just like I figured,” he said, more to himself than Mierette. He was running his hand over the granite of the north wall of the cellar. “A false wall,” he proclaimed.

  “False wall? Thees means what?” said Mierette.

  Monty, startled from his thoughts, flashed her a surprised glance, as if he’d forgotten she was there. “What?” he said. “Oh ... ” He seemed to be deliberating whether or not to take Mierette into his confidence. “This wall is fake,” he said finally, tugging at a loose piece of stone. It came away in his hand, revealing a small triangle of plasterboard. “See? This isn’t the outside wall, but somebody sure wanted to make it look that way.”

  “I don’t undarestan’ ,” said Mierette. “What dees means?”

  “Dees means,” Monty mimicked, “that there’s space between the walls.”

  “A room?”

  “Must be. Or the tunnel.”

  “Thees ees whare she paints dee pictures, then,” said Mierette. “Dee studio.”

  Monty wasn’t prepared to speculate any further. He tapped the wall again. “If there’s a room here, there’s got to be a way in. Where could it be?”

  Mierette shrugged. “I don’ kno. Madam says to me, ‘turn around and face dee wall. Mierette.’ I do. And when I turn again, she ees gone.” She snapped her fingers. “Like dees. Poof. I teenk maybe she is ghost, eh?”

  Monty ran the candle close to the wall. “She may be a spook,” he said, “but she’s no more a ghost than you and me. Take my word for it, there’s a door somewhere.”

  At one point in his investigation, Monty came within two feet of the boys’ hiding place beneath the stairs. They held their breath. As little respect as Bean had for Monty as a person, he knew he was strong, and he’d seen him lose his temper. Not a pretty sight. Bean sure didn’t want to be on the receiving end of his cousin’s anger. The boys pressed back against the wall as far as possible.

  “Not here,” Monty pronounced finally.

  “Den whare?” Mierette questioned eagerly. “Whare cood eet be?”

  “Maybe there’s something behind the stairs,” said Monty as he began to walk straight to where the boys were hidden.

  Bean’s Adam’s apple rose promptly to his throat and stuck there. He felt Spooky lock onto his elbow and squeeze. He shook his arm, but Spooky wouldn’t come loose.

  16

  ONE MORE MYSTERY

  “WHO’S THERE?” said a voice from the top of the stairs. It was Maud.

  Now it was Monty’s tum to panic. Quickly he blew out his candle, but Mierette kept hers burning.

  Bean couldn’t see any way out. In just a few seconds, they’d all be caught. But one person remained cool and calm: Mierette. She went to the bottom of the stairs, looked up, and curtsied politely. “C’est moi, mam’selle,” she said. Bean noticed how composed she was. Her words were clear and casual. She wasn’t blushing, and her eyes weren’t watering the way his and Spooky’s and Monty’s were. “Je n’tombe pas. Je pense qui j’ ecout quelque chose ici.” She held up the crowbar that Monty, hidden in the shadows, had hastily thrust in her hand.

  “What kind of noise?” Maud demanded.

  “J’ne sais pas,” Mierette replied, still showing no lack of confidence. “A bump, I teenk. Bot dere ees notting here. Rien.”

  “Where did the sound come from?” asked Maud sharply, a little edge to her voice.

  Mierette pointed innocently at the false wall. “Dees wall, I teenk. De noise, she stops as I come down.”

  “You go back to bed now,” Maud commanded. Instantly she was gone.

  For the next few seconds, Bean and Spooky, Monty and Mierette waited breathlessly. Then Monty spoke in a harsh whisper. “What did you tell her that for?”

  Mierette calmly held a finger to her lips and a hand to her ear. “Ecoutez,” she said. “Listen.”

  For a moment there was nothing to hear. Then the sound of footsteps, barely audible, came through the false wall.

  Mierette smiled. Although Monty couldn’t see the smile, because she was turned away from him, Bean could. It was a smile that revealed something unexpected about the girl. All of a sudden she didn’t seem so simple and innocent. Now what do you suppose she’s up to? Bean thought to himself.

  There was no time, however, for further speculation. Monty crowded next to the wall and pressed his ear against it.

  “I can hear her in there,” he whispered. “There must be another way down. A hidden stairway somewhere.”

  “Eet mos’ be op here,” said Mierette, starting up the stairs. Monty followed her closely.

  Leaving enough time for everyone to get beyond earshot, Bean and Spooky crawled out from under the stairs and stood waiting in the darkness. For several seconds, they heard only the faint sounds of shuffling, both overhead and beyond the wall, but not enough in either case to tell what was going on.

  “Up,” said Bean abruptly, nudging Spooky in the ribs. They ascended the stairs, placing their feet as close as possible to the sides of the steps in order to keep them from squeaking.

  At the top of the stairs, they found the door closed, but there was a wide gap under the door through which they could clearly see what was going on in the hall.

  At the moment, Monty and Mierette were standing nose to nose and talking in hasty whispers. The boys couldn’t make out any words, but the result of the conference was that Monty hid himself in a closet and Mierette hustled up the stairs, which the boys could hear creaking overhead.

  Mierette didn’t go to her room, though. Bean could tell that she had stopped near the top of the stairs, as if she were waiting for something.

  “What are they waiting for?” whispered Spooky.

  No sooner had he finished the question than Bean heard the sound of footsteps on a stairway. For half a second, he thought that Mierette must be coming back downstairs. Then he realized that the sound was coming from the other side of the wall to his left—the false wall. “It’s Maud,” Bean said in Spooky’s ear. He directed his attention to the hall.

  “She’s comin’ back,” said Spooky.

  “Shh.”

  “What if she comes back here?”

  “Shh !”

  The footsteps were nearing the top of the stairs.

  “We gotta get outta here,” said Spooky. He was about to bolt down the stairs, but Bean, still staring through the crack under the door, grabbed him by the sleeve and pulled him down. “Shh,” he repeated. “Watch.”

  Spooky bent close to the crack and peeled his eyes.

  The footsteps stopped momentarily. Then a panel on the wall to their left swung slowly and silently open. Maud, looking carefully about her, stepped into the hall, carefully closed the panel behind her, and walked to the bottom of the main stairs.

  “Just as Ab said,” Bean whispe
red.

  “Mierette,” Maud called.

  From upstairs the maid replied. Her voice sounded tired, as if she were yawning. “Oui, mam’ selle? ”

  Maud hesitated a moment. “Nothing,” she said finally. “Go to bed. If you hear anything else, let me know. Don’t go down to the cellar by yourself. Tu comprends?”

  “Oui, mam’selle,” Mierette replied meekly. “Bon soir.”

  “Good-night,” said Maud coolly.

  Maud returned to the hallway outside the cellar door. For a moment it looked as if Spooky’s prophesy were about to come true. Instead of returning to the cellar, though, she stood indecisively for a second and listened.

  It seemed a long time until she finally moved again—a long time during which Spooky found it hard to breathe, and Bean was sure his heart was beating loud enough to be heard a block away. At last she went to the wall and flipped a switch, shutting off the ceiling light and leaving only a dim bulb in the wall sconce to light her way upstairs.

  Bean knew what was going to happen next. No doubt Monty had been watching from his hiding place and had discovered Maud’s secret passage. He would wait a few minutes, until he was sure the coast was clear, then make his way to the tunnel and search for the treasure.

  But what would he find? Just what Ab had found. Paintings, frames, and blank canvasses.

  “What’re we waiting for?” said Spooky.

  Bean held his finger to his lips. “Shh. Watch.”

  Spooky did, and soon his watching was rewarded. A door on the opposite side of the hall swung slowly open, with just the faintest squeak, and Monty stepped into the hallway. He hesitated only a moment, then made his way to the secret panel and ran his hands along the molding. Finding the piece that doubled as a switch, he pressed it. The hidden door popped open without a sound and, in a second, he was gone.

  What happened next, Bean hadn’t expected. Mierette was in the hallway again. He hadn’t even heard her on the stairs. She quickly crossed to the secret panel, pressed the molding, stepped into the darkness, and pulled the panel closed behind her.

  “What’s she up to?” Bean wondered aloud.

  “What if we follow ’em?” Spooky suggested.

  Bean didn’t like that idea. “Too risky,” he said. “Only one way out, and there’s no way I want to be caught down there with Monty.”

  “I know,” said Spooky. Without another word, he had flicked on the flashlight and was on his way back down to the cellar. Bean wanted to call after him and ask him what he was doing, but everyone in the house would have heard. Instead, as quietly as possible, he followed.

  Spooky was rummaging around in the dirt. “What are you looking for?” Bean demanded in a loud whisper.

  Spooky didn’t answer, but after a few seconds he produced a long, rusty spike, which he held up triumphantly. “Ta-da!” he said beneath his breath as he shone his light on his treasure.

  “So ?”

  Spooky gestured to the wall, found the place from which Monty had removed the chip of stone, and began digging at the plasterboard with the spike. Bean was about to object, but before he could get the words out, the deed was done. Spooky withdrew the spike and applied his eye to the hole.

  “Perfect,” he said softly.

  Bean swallowed his objection. “What do you see?” he said, pressing his head as close to Spooky’s as physics would allow.

  “They’re feelin’ around the walls, tryin’ to find somethin’.”

  “The switch,” said Bean. “Ab told me there’s another hidden switch that opens the tunnel door.”

  “They got it,” Spooky exclaimed aloud. Fortunately for them, Mierette said, “I found eet” at the exact same time.

  Bean clamped his hand over Spooky’s mouth. “Don’t do that,” he commanded in a sharp whisper. “Let me see.” He pushed Spooky gently aside and pressed his eye to the hole. Mierette was just removing her hand from the slot in the old timber. The second secret door was mostly open, and Monty was already through it. A moment later a light came on in the tunnel.

  “What’s happenin’?” said Spooky.

  Bean didn’t reply. Instead he watched intently as first Monty, then Mierette disappeared through the door. “I wish I could see what they’re doin’.” A few seconds later, it was obvious. The sinister duo emerged from the tunnel carrying armloads of canvasses. “Mostly blanks,” Bean said in a low voice.

  “What?” said Spooky. “What’re they doin’?”

  Bean turned away from the wall and scratched his head. “It looks as if they’re stealin’ stuff—paintings and blank canvasses.”

  Spooky stuck his eye against the hole. “Blank canvasses?” He watched carefully. “Why?” He, too, turned away in bewilderment. He looked at Bean, who shrugged.

  “Ab said that’s the first thing Maud went after when she thought there was a fire.”

  “Canvas ain’t that hard to come by, is it?” Spooky asked.

  Something about the comment nudged Bean’s thoughts a little further down the track. “No,” he said. “You can get ’em down to the paper store and the hardware store both.” He thought a little longer. “But she saved ’em before she saved some’ve her own paintings. That means ... ” Something was on the tip of his tongue. “That means they must be worth somethin’.”

  “But you just said blank canvasses are easy to come by. That means they ain’t worth much. Sure not worth riskin’ your life for,” Spooky rightly theorized.

  Bean was forced to an inevitable conclusion. “So they’re not what they look like.”

  “Huh?”

  “They’re not blank canvasses,” said Bean.

  Spooky returned to the hole and, squinting, peered at the hidden tunnel. “They sure look blank to me.”

  “They’re s’posed to,” said Bean, following the train of thought with increasing excitement. “But they’re not. So either they’re not really canvasses or they’re not really blank.”

  Once again he pushed Spooky aside and stared through the hole. “Some of ’em are turned toward us and some are turned away. I can see both sides. They’re canvasses, all right.”

  “Then they’re not really blank?” asked Spooky.

  “That’s right,” said Bean. “Either they’re paintings that’ve been painted over, or—”

  “They’re paintings that’ve been covered over with new canvas,” Spooky deduced.

  “That’s it!” said Bean, managing to stifle his enthusiasm only at the last second. “‘Everyone a masterpiece.’ “

  “What’re you talkin’ about?”

  “Maud’s motto down at her gallery. ‘Every painting a masterpiece.’ What if she stole a bunch of paintings from a museum or somethin’ , like this place down in Boston that me and Ab read about in an old newspaper. And what if she put new canvas over ’em, so they couldn’t be found?”

  Spooky was one or two steps ahead. “Then she painted her paintings on the new canvas?”

  “Right.”

  “Then she put the paintings in her gallery?”

  “Right.”

  “Then she sold ’em for hardly nothin’ to people who didn’t know they were really buyin’ a masterpiece?”

  Bean saw the difficulty in this. “Doesn’t make any sense, does it?”

  “Not to me, it don’t,” said Spooky.

  Bean had really thought he was onto something, but he couldn’t see his way around this obstacle in his logic. “Not to me either,” he said. He turned once again and peered through the hole. “They’re closin’ the secret door. They must’ve got it all.”

  “What’re we gonna do now?”

  Bean was thinking frantically as he watched Mierette and Monty carry some of the canvasses up the stairs. He could read Mierette’s lips as she said, “Pleeze be carefool.”

  “They’re takin’ ’em upstairs just a few at a time. It’s gonna take ’em a minute or two,” he said.

  Spooky didn’t consider this an answer. “What’re we gonna do?”
r />   Bean said the only thing that came to mind: “Follow ’em. Come on.” He bounded up the stairs as quietly as possible, and Spooky followed close on his heels.

  Bean surveyed the hallway carefully through the crack under the door at the top of the stairs. “Coast is clear,” he said and, turning the knob with shaky fingers, pushed the door open.

  In seconds they had closed the cellar door behind them and made their way across the hall to the closet where Monty had hidden earlier. They left the door open a crack to watch. At that instant, Monty and Mierette appeared through the hidden panel with the first of the canvasses and carried them toward the kitchen.

  “They’re goin’ out the back,” said Bean. “If I’d known, we coulda gone out to the barn and waited for ’em.”

  Spooky didn’t reply.

  “Spook?” said Bean.

  Still no answer. Bean held out his hand and rummaged through the darkness. “Spooky?” There were overcoats, raincoats, boots, hats, and shoes, but from one end of the closet to the other, no sign of Spooky.

  As Bean, in the height of alarm, was ransacking the farthest recesses of the closet, he suddenly felt a tap on his shoulder. He would have screamed, but his Adam’s apple was wedged in his throat, so he couldn’t.

  “I found another way out,” said Spooky, unaware that he’d nearly given his friend heart failure. “Over here.” He tugged Bean to the end of the closet, where he opened a sliding panel in the wall to their left. “This used to be a butler’s pantry,” he said. “There’s two pass-throughs—this one and one over where you were that goes to the dinin’ room.”

  Bean was familiar with pass-throughs: tiny panels in the walls that slid up and down so the cook could pass food through to the pantry and the butler could pass it through to the dining room sideboard without interrupting the people who were having dinner.

  “This one goes to the kitchen?” Bean said as Spooky raised the panel slightly.

  “Yeah,” said Spooky. “I been through once, but she almost caught me when she brung some pictures in.”