by Ben Zackheim
"Because if dead people could talk we'd probably hear them," he mumbles.
"Some people do hear them," Marie says.
"So guys..." I interrupt, before I'm interrupted right back.
"Yeah right," Wylie says. "Like that Mitchell lady?"
"Mrs. Mitchell is a very talented psychic."
"Very talented fraud, you mean."
"Um, so guys?" I say. Marie should know better than to have this conversation with him.
"Give me proof that she's a fraud!" she says, raising her voice.
"Give me proof that she can talk to ghosts!"
"I hate it when you get this way! What makes you so sure, Wylie?"
"Because if dead people could talk, I'm pretty sure my parents would have tried to at least say hi!"
Wylie walks off toward the street. Marie looks horrified. She glances at me, but I can't comfort her. She runs after him. I watch as he gets onto his bike. He's about to ride off but Marie gets in his way. They're too far off for me to hear anything but the tone is clear. Marie is so sorry she's about to burst and Wylie is trying to get some time to be by himself and cool down.
"What's their problem?" someone says from behind me. I turn and take a swing at whoever it is. I learned some self-defense moves from Mom this last summer. Luckily Jacob dodges out of the way.
"Don't sneak up on me like that!" I yell.
"Sorry," he says as I try to get my heart back into my chest.
"Why are we meeting in the graveyard?"
"I don't want them coming with us," he says, flicking his thumb at Marie and Wylie, who have stopped arguing. They're watching me and Jacob now.
"Well, you get them with me. You know that, Jacob."
"Fine. Follow me," he says. I expected more of a fight.
I look over my shoulder and see that Wylie and Marie are coming with.
We cross the dirt road and stop at a stone wall. It's seven feet high, with barbed wire on top. I'm about to decide that there's no way past this obstacle when I spot a slight discoloration to the wall's stone in one area. Knee-height. Jacob sees me notice the hidden door and grins.
"I made it myself when I was ten," he says.
"Nice job for a ten year old."
He pulls on a corner of the hidden door and it swings open. Just enough space for some teenagers to crawl through.
"Used to be a drain here. I chipped away at it every single day for a month until I could slip through. I made it so I could come to the graveyard whenever I wanted to. Dad never let us out of the house back then. He barely does now. But I like visiting my family once in awhile."
I know exactly why he likes to go the graveyard. I want to tell him that I saw his mother's grave with its fresh flowers, but I stop myself.
On the other side of the wall I get a good first look at the Graham estate in the daylight. Of course, I've studied it on Google Maps many times but there's only so much you can tell from a satellite image. A computer screen can't show you the beautiful rolling hills of the landscape, or impress you with its fragrant flowers. But the most impressive thing about the estate is that all of the carefully designed grounds are in service to the mansion at the top of the hill. It's the boss of everything. We're just its subjects. The large windows make the facade scary, like a massive face with glass eyes looking down on us.
Wylie and Marie catch up.
"What's the plan?" Wylie asks.
"You follow me and don't ask questions," Jacob answers.
"I'll ask as many questions as I want," Wylie growls.
"Fine, then my dad's security will hear us and you can explain what you're doing on the property."
Jacob holds up his iPhone. The screen shows nine small square images, all from security cameras.
"You have your dad's security cameras on your phone?" Marie asks.
"Yeah," Jacob says, smirking.
"And does he know this?" I ask.
"What do you think?" He taps on one of the images on his phone and holds it up for us to see. The screen shows a tree with some kind of satellite disc on it.
"Dish three is over there on that big oak tree. It picks up sound. They can start hearing noise starting right about..." He takes a large step forward on the lawn. He smiles and gestures to the ground.
He may be lying. In fact I'm sure he is. But we get the point. Be quiet. Follow his lead.
We run up the hill and duck down behind a long row of irises. One guard is doing a perimeter check. He looks in our direction but we're low and concealed well enough for his eyes to pass right over.
I see Wylie is about to sneeze.
I forgot about his allergies!
I reach out and pinch his upper lip. He manages to get the sneeze under control. It's an old trick my grandma taught me. Something about the nerve endings in the nose being dulled. When the guard turns the corner of the house, we sneak around the edges of a small fountain and slip through some open doors without a sound. I guess we're getting good at being sneaky. It makes sense when you consider all the cases we've had to tackle in the last few months.
Our eyes go wide as we tiptoe into a huge room. It's packed with big arcade games, air hockey tables, ping pong and billiards. One wall is even covered in dart boards, all packed with darts. It's a Game Geek's dream come true, which is evident on my friends' faces. Wylie and Marie enjoy killing each other in a game called Diablo 3, so these arcade games pull at their trigger fingers like a new mystery pulls at mine.
"Guys. Focus," I say as I spot Wylie slowing down to study one of the arcade's screens. Monster Tanks 4.
"HANDS IN THE AIR!" someone yells.
Wylie squeaks and raises his hands in the air. We all look around for the guy barking orders.
"IT'S HIGH NOON, PARD'NER! TIME TO DIE!" The voice is coming from a video game called High Noon. The cowboy on the screen sneers and wiggles his massive red mustache at us.
"I'll shoot you later," Wylie mumbles, trying to regain his cool.
"He's a tough one," Jacob whispers. "Come by anytime and try, though."
Wylie looks at me with an expression that screams, Did you just hear that? He invited me over!
Back to the task at hand, we weave through the dozens (dozens!) of games and reach an Exit door. Yes, Jacob's home has Exit signs. He stops us with an uplifted hand and leads us out of my friends' future home-away-from-home.
This long carpeted hallway has that new carpet smell, with a tinge of chlorine from one of the nearby pools. Jacob studies the images on his phone's screen. He peeks around a corner and I peek along with him. I notice a security camera bolted to the corner of one wall at the end of the hall. It's turning left to right. It covers two different hallways that intersect each other.
Jacob holds up five fingers and makes eye contact with each of us to make sure we're paying attention.
Four fingers.
Three.
Two.
One.
He pivots and darts down the hall. We try to keep up. He stops directly underneath the camera and gives us a thumbs-up.
We wait for the camera to point down the intersecting hallway before we sprint past a whole new set of rooms. We stop at a metal door and Jacob swings a small plastic card over the electronic lock.
The lock beeps. But the light stays red.
"That's not good," he whispers.
I look up. The camera is starting to swing back in our direction.
Jacob passes his card over the lock again.
Red light.
The camera is almost on us.
He switches to another app on his phone. It shows a topographical map of a house. He taps on the screen frantically. We hear beeps all around us as the lights on the door locks flash green.
The camera is about three seconds from catching us. We all watch the lock on our metal door.
It beeps, stays red and then flashes green. Jacob pushes it open and stands aside for us to run in.
"Did we make it?" Jacob asks.
"I think
so," I say.
I look around the room.
Wow.
"Wow," Marie says out loud for me.
Chapter 8
We're surrounded by about 100 screens on the walls. They monitor different areas of the estate. We watch Graham family members walking through the house, and playing tennis, and snooping around a garage that's packed with expensive-looking cars.
Three empty chairs face the monitors.
This is perfect. Just what I wanted. I smile at Jacob and he actually smiles back. He did it. He figured out what I wanted to do just from the cryptic texts I sent him. The idea came to me when Eric started hinting that the mansion held secrets. I knew that a heavy-duty security system would reveal everything. Every nook and cranny. Every shaded corner. And I knew that I could get some answers if I had access to that security system. Apparently, Jacob came to the same conclusion. Maybe he'd be a good addition to the team after all of this is over.
"How did you get rid of the guys who are supposed to be watching these monitors?" I ask.
"A diversion. The guards just saw me trying to get into my dad's office five minutes ago. Well, they saw a recorded clip of me trying to get into my dad's office." Jacob holds up the phone again. He must have hacked the security system and played back a recording for them to see.
"Then why were we sneaking around if no one is here to catch us?" Wylie asks.
"Because we don't want to be archived, that's why," Jacob answers. "They review the tapes at the end of each day. They'll be back in a few minutes. We need to hurry, Shirley."
I run up to the monitors. I find the controls that allow me to scroll through the dozens of cameras placed throughout the property. A single dial lets me review dozens of locations in seconds. The pool, a mini golf course on the north end of the property, the gym, the kitchen (where a relative just took a swig from a milk carton, yuck!), a walk-in safe filled with safety deposit boxes.
Wait.
What is this room? It doesn't look like any of the others. Its style is totally different than the rest of the mansion. It's a bedroom.
It looks like... no way. Wow, this is getting weird.
The queen-sized bed is covered in stuff. I look for the zoom control and hone in on the pile.
"Don't tell me they monitor the bedrooms," Marie says.
"That's creepy," Wylie adds.
"I'm not sure where that room is," Jacobs says. "It's not familiar."
"It is to me," I say. "It's Eric's bedroom."
"I know what Eric's bedroom looks like. That's not it," Jacob says.
"It's his room at Mrs. Hoffman's house."
They all go wide-eyed and take a step closer to the screens.
"It is," Wylie says. "That lampshade with the flowers on it is 100% Mrs. Hoffman. Hey, zoom in there!"
Marie shushes him, but he'll have none of it.
"It's my trophy," Wylie says, turning to us. His face transforms into an angry thing. I don't like it one bit.
"Okay, Wylie. Just relax. We'll get it, okay?" He quietly fumes, which is better than him running off screaming.
"Is that everything?" Marie asks. "I mean, is it all the stuff for the treasure hunt?"
"It's hard to tell." But I immediately recognize a dozen things from the list. I don't want to get everyone too excited. We still have to get out of here without being seen.
And, as if on cue, the door to the security room opens.
It's Eric.
He sees us and darts off. Wylie chases him down the hall and tackles him from behind, throwing him into a wall. That looks like it hurt.
"Well, our cover is blown now," Jacob says.
"I couldn't help it," Wylie stands up. "Sorry, Shirley."
"No, you did the right thing, Wylie."
"I didn't do anything!" Eric yells. He scrambles to the wall. His eyes are darting everywhere for an escape, but we've surrounded him.
"Then why were you sneaking around my neighborhood?" I ask. "And where did you get all the stuff we just saw piled to the ceiling in your bedroom?"
"I don't know anything about that. I just... I took one thing. Some guy, one of your neighbors, left his basketball outside his garage. That's it. That's the only thing I took."
"Then how did all the treasure hunt stuff end up in your room?" I ask.
"I didn't..." he mutters, before he frowns at me. "Look, everyone got their treasure days ago. Dad sent the link to the mobile app like last week. I watched that checklist fill up in an hour. Whatever. I'm not telling you anything else, Shirley, or whatever your name is. Figure it out on your own."
"Her mom's a cop," Jacob says. "You're not slithering out of this one, Eric."
Eric looks as cornered as he is. He closes his eyes and leans his head against the wall. I could power Shelburne Falls for a week with all the energy he's now spending on crafting a lie.
But something weird is going on.
He's mouthing some words. Just a slight move of the lips. It's as if he's recalling lines from a play. Then he opens his eyes and says with confidence, "I didn't do it, but I think the crook is in this hall." He glances at Jacob.
Eric is reciting a memorized line. He's acting. And not very well. But why? He winks at Jacob.
I watch Jacob's response and I don't like it at all. He doesn't respond. No anger. No denial. In fact, it seems to me that Jacob and his brother are sharing a moment they both knew was coming.
"So wait a second," I say, hoping to slow the information dump down. I'm going to ignore the comment about the crook being in the hall for now. "If all the items were checked off of the list on the treasure hunt app then that means seventy-two people at the party already had their treasure hunt item in-hand before they even arrived in Shelburne Falls?"
"I told you, genius. I didn't have mine," Eric says. "I needed the basketball. Last item on the list. But yeah, everyone else got theirs yesterday."
"I don't buy it," Wylie snarled. "I think he stole it all."
"But why steal so much?" I ask Wylie. "Every family member is only allowed one item from the list to get their chance at the money prize."
"It's not about the money," Jacob says. "I think he wanted to impress Dad by getting the whole list. Everything he does is to impress Dad."
"This coming from a guy who wouldn't play the game just to make daddy mad and get his attention," Eric growls.
That got to Jacob. His hands clench. I place my hand on his shoulder and he relaxes a little.
"So what now?" Marie asks. I keep my eye on Eric. His face relaxes. His shoulders un-tense. Now he's stretching like he just woke up from a nap. He's getting ready to say something.
"Now you arrest me," Eric says. His whole demeanor just changed. He shrugs. "I'm guilty."
Okay, I didn't see that coming. Then I remember that Eric is the reason we're here. He's the one who told me about the secrets in the house. I'm only standing in this hall because he wants me here.
I guess we just saw the end of this play. Now I just need to find out who wrote the script.
Please Jacob. Please, tell me it's not you...
Chapter 9
The police have the stolen property in-hand. They let Wylie take his trophy home after snapping some pics and dusting for prints. Wylie is more determined than ever to find out who stole it. Even the idea that it was in some crook's hands doesn't sit well with him.
The Graham clan's rock solid alibis are surprising. They were on a bus when the crimes likely occurred and they have the driver's testimony to the police to back them up. Plus, they all presented their treasure hunt items on demand -- most still in their packaging.
Me, I've moved on from baking. Nothing can distract my brain from this case now. Was Eric really the crook? Was he trying to prove something to his father? What about the eight Grahams who didn't make the cut? Maybe one of them decided they'd take out their frustrations on Shelburne Falls? Maybe all eight of them joined forces? But they were on the bus, too.
What a brain bender.
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To add to the fun, I overheard Mom telling someone on the phone that they have zero eyewitness to the crimes. No suspicious people hanging around the targeted homes. No suspicious vehicles. To me, this just verifies that the visiting Grahams aren't guilty. There's simply no way 72 people could break in and steal stuff from 72 homes without leaving a trace.
I still know the key to finding the crook is to figure out how the crimes got pulled off. It's like the stolen items were just snatched from a portal in time and space. I'd better not mention that to Marie. She might take me seriously and get woo-woo on me.
So. No more baking cookies. Now we're using my map.
I made a map of Shelburne Falls when I was twelve. It took me a full year but I was obsessed with recording every brick and tile of my hometown. I love it here and I felt that it would be a great way to get to know it better than anyone else.
It's a detailed map. Every street, house, sewer, or hill that I could record I did. It used to be a beautiful thing. Like a piece of art. But now the map is covered in red pins, perched on an easel. Wylie, Marie and I sit cross-legged, looking up at it.
We've marked every house that was burgled. All 72 of them. We're looking at the lay of the land and trying to figure out how one person or group of people could steal 72 items in an afternoon without being seen.
"If they started on Maple Street and wove through the backyards then they could have covered that one row of houses without being spotted," Marie says, running her finger down the map.
"But how would they be able to see if the owners' cars are out front if they're going around the back?" I ask. "They would need to check to be sure that no one is home first somehow, right?"
"Yeah, good point," Marie says.
"Maybe they had spotters," Wylie interjects.
"Maybe, but I'm not sure how spotters would escape detection. Remember. We have no eyewitnesses to any suspicious behavior."
"Maybe they used helicopters," Marie says.
"I think hovering helicopters qualify as suspicious activity," I say. "One of us would have heard a helicopter hovering over a whole neighborhood."
