Kristy and the Mystery Train

by Ann M. Martin

  A human hand.

  Several things happened almost simultaneously. Benjamin swooped across the car and put his arms around Elle. She sagged against him, then straightened up, raising her chin as if to say, “The show must go on.”

  Jane ran to the table, raised her tape recorder to her lips, and began dictating, her fascinated, horrified gaze moving from Elle to the ghastly plate and back again.

  Somehow I found myself halfway across the dining car — close enough to the grisly entrée to realize that it was made of rubber, and completely fake. I was also close enough to see the scrap of white paper Elle cautiously plucked from between the rubber fingers of the hand. She read it aloud in a resolute voice: “ ‘The truth will come out. There’s nothing you can do to stop me.’ ”

  Benjamin took the paper from her hand. “What? What does this mean? Is this your idea of publicity?” He waved the paper under Anne’s nose.

  I felt Stacey’s hand on my arm, dragging me back. Turning, I saw the shocked faces of the kids, swallowed hard, and said, “Don’t worry. It’s not real. It’s a fake hand, like they sell around Halloween.”

  “F/X,” said Derek. “Sure. We should have guessed it was just some crummy fake.” He managed to make it sound as if finding a fake hand on your dinner plate happened all the time, at least in Hollywood. What a pro he was!

  “Eff ex?” asked Abby. “What does ‘eff ex’ mean, Derek? Everybody, sit down. Sit down, okay?”

  Reluctantly our nine charges returned to their seats.

  “Special effects. You write it eff, slash, ex. That’s the movie term for it,” said Derek. He smiled wanly. “Like when people go through glass windows, only it’s not real glass. It’s really thin and it’s safe but you add in the sound of real glass breaking. I guess this is one publicity stunt that didn’t work out.”

  David Michael said faintly, “Publicity stunt.”

  From the look on Anne’s face, I didn’t think it was a publicity stunt. She had taken the paper from Benjamin’s hand and they were arguing fiercely, but in low tones.

  Mr. Masters had managed to maneuver Jane Atlantic off to one side. Rock Harding, the director, was sprawled out dramatically in his chair. In one corner, I saw Daniel’s father leaning forward, avidly taking in the whole scene, probably making notes for his next screenplay. The waiter had reappeared with the chef in tow, and they were talking, with excited gestures, to Elle.

  No, it wasn’t a publicity stunt. I didn’t need to hear the discussions going on around me to realize that. But I didn’t say so.

  “Outrageous,” I heard one voice say, and then Benjamin’s voice rang out. “Someone will pay for this!” He and Elle were walking out of the dining room. Anne was right behind them.

  Jane Atlantic broke free and followed. “So this wasn’t planned?” she asked triumphantly. She thrust out her tape recorder. “Elle, tell me, who would do this to you? Do you think your husband is behind it? After all, you and Charlie met when you were both stuntpeople.”

  Anne quickly intervened. “I think you will agree that as stunts go, this was pretty amateur. Someone’s idea of a joke.”

  She turned to address the dining car, blocking Jane at the same time so that Benjamin and Elle could make their escape. The living quarters were off-limits to the press.

  Raising her voice, Anne said, “Everybody, please go back to enjoying your lunch. We have a lot of things planned to make this a fun trip. I hope you’ll forget about this tasteless practical joke.”

  “I bet that hand was pretty tasteless,” Abby said.

  We all looked at her. Then, maybe from the tension, we cracked up. When the laughing had subsided, it seemed that everyone’s appetite had mysteriously returned. We set to work on our pizzas, and soon almost everybody else in the dining car had gone back to eating. I noticed, however, that all of the entrées brought out after that arrived uncovered.

  I ate with an air of calm I didn’t feel, trying to set a good example. After all, that was part of my job as a baby-sitter.

  My brain, however, was churning. We definitely had a mystery on our hands.

  Despite all the excitement, Derek maintained his cool. But he had barely swallowed his last bite of pizza when Anne bore down upon us.

  She nodded at everyone but spoke to Derek. “Could you go around and make nice to the press?” she said. “Elle and Benjamin are — unavailable — so as third lead in the movie …”

  “Of course,” said Derek. He folded his napkin and rose to follow Anne.

  A moment later he had slipped into the chair next to Jane and two other reporters. From there we watched him move on to a tall woman with wraparound dark glasses and a man dressed entirely in black, including his high-tops.

  Suddenly, Derek ducked beneath a table, pulling the tablecloth over him.

  “What’s he doing?” asked Nicky, sounding alarmed.

  Greg grinned at Nicky. “It’s a scene from the movie. He’s hiding from the murderer. The murderer isn’t sure who saw him, just that it’s a kid, so he’s trying to check out all the kids on the train.”

  “I guess not all of the scenes are going to be acted out in the stage car,” said Stacey, referring to a car that had been set up with special lighting and seating and a stage at one end.

  The waiter had reappeared with a dessert menu. Although we had done serious damage to the pizza, all of the boys managed to find room for the dessert special, Mystery Cupcakes, which turned out to be chocolate cupcakes with a “secret recipe” filling.

  By the time everyone had compared cupcake fillings and Greg and Nicky had agreed to trade halves, I realized that my worries about whether Derek’s two best friends would get along were groundless. They were doing just fine.

  In fact, if anything, it was Derek who was a little on the outside. He returned as we were reducing the last of the cupcakes to crumbs. He stood there for a moment, watching, like the host of a party who has somehow been left out.

  And it wasn’t Greg or Nicky who noticed him, but David Michael.

  “Hey,” he said. “I have some cupcake left. Want to share?” (David Michael is a terrific kid, if I do say so myself.)

  Accepting David Michael’s offer with a smile, Derek sat down and was soon part of the general conversation. But I couldn’t help feeling a little sorry for him. He was on his way to being a truly famous film star, but underneath, he was a kid like any other. And no kid likes to work when he could be with his friends, which is exactly what Derek had to do.

  By unanimous vote, the baby-sitters decided that a little after-lunch downtime would be a good idea for everyone. We escorted the nine boys back to our sleeping car and saw them to their rooms with the promise of a trip to the club car (which Derek had assured us had some “outstanding cool games”) later.

  As soon as the boys were settled and we were back in our compartment, I turned to face Stacey and Abby. I could tell they were thinking what I was thinking:

  MYSTERY.

  “Who …” I began, then stopped as heavy footsteps pounded down the hall.

  “Someone’s in a hurry,” remarked Abby.

  Stacey sniffed. She sniffed again and leaped to her feet. “No wonder,” she cried. “I smell smoke!”

  We raced into the hall and looked up and down the corridor. It was empty. But black smoke was pouring from the far end.

  “Get the kids out,” Abby ordered. “I’ll go knock on doors and warn anyone else who’s here.”

  It seemed to take forever, but we shepherded the kids out into the corridor and away from the smoke, toward the doors at the other end. I could still hear Abby pounding on doors and shouting, “Come on! Come out! Fire!”

  As Stacey, the boys, and I reached the doors, Abby and Ronald Pierce came charging up behind us. “That’s everybody,” Abby said, panting. “Let’s get out of here.”

  I grabbed the handle of the door and pushed to slide it open. It didn’t move.

  I jerked on it, hard.

  It didn’t budge
.

  Smoke billowed around us. I heard someone coughing.

  Stacey reached up and grabbed the door, and we both pulled as hard as we could.

  But the door stayed closed.

  “It won’t open,” I said with a gasp.

  “Oh, no!” cried Mr. Pierce. “We’re trapped!”

  The Greenbrook Club used to be called the Dark Woods Country Club, and it has a pretty dark history. It was incredibly discriminatory and exclusive. A lawsuit closed the club down for twenty years, until Nikki Stanton-Cha bought it and reopened it. Now it’s welcoming instead of exclusionary, though it is still pretty elegant, just as Mal said.

  Mal came prepared for work the first day that she, Jessi, Claud, and Mary Anne were scheduled to help open the club for the summer. She was prepared for sun, too. She wore a hat, a long-sleeved shirt, long baggy shorts, and sneakers with ankle socks. She had clipped sunshades onto her regular glasses, and she kept slathering SPF 30 sunscreen on as Jessi’s dad drove her, Jessi, and Claudia to the entrance of the club.

  Mary Anne, who lives within biking distance, was waiting by the front steps. She parked her bike and joined the other three as they walked up the stairs.

  Both Mary Anne and Claudia were in cutoffs and sandals, with their swimming gear in their packs. Claudia was wearing a huge tie-dyed T-shirt knotted at the waist, and her sandals sported flowers that matched the flower barrette holding back her hair. Her gear was in a funky, bright yellow, plastic mesh tote that was exactly the same shade as the rims of her big, round sunglasses. Mary Anne was wearing a faded green Izod shirt and a baseball cap that read TED’S TOOLS. Jessi’s hair was in a French braid. She was wearing blue bicycle shorts with a red cutoff T-shirt over a blue sports top and reef-runners.

  Claudia glanced sideways at Mal. “That looks sort of like the bug-proof outfit you wore at Shadow Lake,” she remarked. She was referring to a summer visit the BSC made to Watson’s lakeside cabin in the mountains. Insects had swarmed around Mal there like, well, like bees to honey.

  “At least I won’t be fried by the sun,” said Mal. Then she added, “You can use some of my sunscreen if you like.”

  “I brought some, too,” said Jessi, patting her pack. “But it’s only SPF fifteen.”

  Nikki Stanton-Cha was in the main dining area, pouring herself a cup of coffee. “Come on back,” she called when she heard the front door open.

  “Hi, Ms. Stanton-Cha,” said Mary Anne politely.

  “What is this?” she asked, smoothing back her blonde hair. “Last time you worked here, you called me Nikki, remember?”

  Mary Anne looked a little abashed, but Claudia said cheerfully, “Hi, Nikki.”

  In addition to seeming younger than most moms, Nikki is very energetic and extremely strong-willed. How do we know this? Well, for one thing, she reopened the club against daunting odds, including a mystery that threatened to keep it closed until we helped solve it. For another, she stood up to her father, who didn’t speak to her for ten years after he became angry with her for marrying Mr. Cha, who is from Korea.

  Nikki looked around, called, “Stephen? Stephen!” and then turned back to us. “People will be arriving soon. I expect most of the action will center on the swimming pool. We have a lifeguard, of course, but during this opening weekend, you are going to act as counselors. You’ll organize activities for the kids if they want that, keep an eye on things, even step in for some mini-baby-sitting if parents want to go for a snack, play a game of tennis, that sort of thing. I’ll direct people to you as they arrive…. Stephen? Where … oh, good, there you are.”

  Nikki smiled as a boy with brown eyes and sandy brown hair — worn short except for a slightly longer tail in the back — appeared in the doorway. He was wearing jeans and a T-shirt.

  “Hi,” Stephen said shyly. Seven years old and on the short side, Stephen did not resemble his mother very much in appearance or manner. He looked more like his father.

  Mary Anne gave Stephen an encouraging smile. “Hi, Stephen.”

  Nikki said, “I thought you went to change into your swimsuit, Stephen.”

  He nodded, then shrugged. Finally, he said, “The door was locked.”

  “To the boys’ locker room? Oh, lord. The key’s in the office …” Nikki marched briskly out of the room and returned a minute later to press a key into Mal’s palm. “Unlock it for me, would you? Then you can all change and prepare for action.” She grinned at us, walked out of the room, and turned at the door to throw her arms wide. “Let the summer begin!”

  * * *

  “Stephen! Hi, hi, hi!” called Karen as she led the charge of the Three Musketeers into the swimming area. Then she stopped and pointed dramatically to the signboard that listed the pool rules. “NO running around the pool,” she said. Her best friends, Hannie Papadakis and Nancy Dawes, the other two Musketeers, stopped obediently.

  Karen is not shy. She is also very, very strict about obeying rules. For example, she is the only member of the Krushers who has a shirt that spells Krushers with a c instead of a k. Why? Because she is obeying the rules of spelling.

  Wearing the somewhat stunned look of a person who isn’t used to Karen’s high-octane energy, Stephen said, “Uh, hi, Karen.”

  Karen, Hannie, and Nancy walked along one side of the swimming pool to join Mal and Mary Anne. Mal was sitting in the shade of a beach umbrella. She had discarded her shirt and shorts in favor of a bathing suit, but she still had on her hat and dark glasses.

  Mary Anne was in her bathing suit and her swim cap. Jackie Rodowsky and his brother Shea had just joined them, along with Ben Hobart, who is Mal’s age.

  In the shallow end of the pool, Claudia and Jessi were working with a group of younger kids that included four-year-old Jenny Prezzioso, Jamie Newton and Archie Rodowsky, who are also four, and Claire Pike. Claud and Jessi were helping them get used to the idea of putting their faces in the water all over again, something they hadn’t tried since the summer before.

  “HI, HI, HI,” Karen said again in her loudest outdoor voice.

  Hannie put her hands over her ears and Nancy giggled. Mary Anne couldn’t help but smile, too. “Hi,” she said.

  “You guys are just in time. We’re about to organize a game of freeze tag in the shallow end of the pool. Or maybe volleyball,” Mal added, patting the brightly colored plastic ball next to her feet.

  “Freeze tag!” Karen’s blue eyes grew enormous behind her glasses. “Oh, no! The water is freezing! We’re all going to be turned into enormous chunks of ice.”

  Smothering a laugh at Karen’s runaway imagination, Mal said, “No, actually the water is fine.”

  Karen laughed, too. “I know,” she said. She flung her towel down, whirled around, then walked quickly along the edge of the pool to where it wasn’t so shallow. She leaped into the water, doubling her legs up for a cannonball.

  “Wait for me,” called Hannie. She cannonballed into the water after Karen. Nancy slithered in gingerly, making faces. Ben and Shea quickly followed Karen and Hannie’s suit, but Jackie got his feet tangled in the cutoffs he’d been wearing over his bathing suit as he tried to pull them off.

  He hopped around wildly on one foot, then fell on top of Mal.

  “Oof!” said Mal.

  “Sorry,” said Jackie.

  “Better watch it,” Mal warned him, “or I’ll huff and I’ll puff and I’ll blow you into the swimming pool.”

  With a shriek of fake fear, Jackie jumped up.

  “You’re not really going to throw us in the pool, are you?” asked Stephen.

  “No way!” shouted Jackie.

  “Wait,” Stephen said to Jackie. “We could play cards. I have a new deck. It’s called Old Bachelor.”

  “I’ve seen those cards,” said Mal. “They’re cool. We used to play the same game but we called it Old Maid. This is much better.”

  After a few more unsuccessful hops, Jackie escaped from his cutoffs and joined the others in the pool without further mishap.r />
  Mary Anne climbed in, too. Mal threw her the ball.

  “Come on,” Ben called. “You’re not chicken, are you?”

  “No way!” said Mal, echoing Jackie. She stood up, took off her hat, slathered on some more lotion, and headed for the water.

  Jackie waved at Stephen. “We’ll play Old Bachelor later,” he promised. “Come on in!”

  Like Nancy, Stephen slid in, keeping a tight hold on the side. He pushed away from the edge and backed down the pool toward Claudia and Jessi until the water lapped around his waist.

  Mary Anne tossed the ball into the air and Shea leaped up to hit it, keeping it aloft as it came down. That was the whole game — simple but fun. Everyone swam and leaped and ducked and sputtered.

  Then Mal noticed that instead of leaping up for the ball, Stephen seemed to be avoiding it. In fact, he seemed to be avoiding the game altogether.

  Poor Stephen, thought Mal. Still shy, even though he’s not the new kid in town anymore. She swatted the ball in his direction.

  Stephen leaped for it, flailed wildly, then fell back into the water. He rose, spluttering and splashing, as the ball plopped down in front of him.

  “Missed it, missed it,” teased Ben. He scooped up the ball and offered it to Stephen to launch.

  Stephen shook his head. He was still spluttering.

  “Did you get water up your nose?” asked Jackie sympathetically. “That happens to me a lot. It’ll go away.”

  Stephen nodded. But he also sloshed cautiously toward the shallowest part of the pool. “I’ll just go sit on the steps for a minute. Until it feels better.”

  “You sure you’re okay?” asked Mary Anne.

  “Sure,” said Stephen.

  The play resumed. Stephen sat on the steps. Although Ben and Jackie and the others called out to him to join them, he shook his head.

  He stayed by the steps for most of the morning, and nothing anyone could say would persuade him to join in the games. Worried that Stephen wasn’t feeling well, Mal sat down beside him.

  “Hey,” she said. “Come swim with us.”

  Stephen said, “Aren’t you afraid of getting sunburned? It’s awfully hot.”