The newspaper rattled. “Nerves,” Erin’s father muttered. “He’s worked himself up into a state about that audition. As if Salzman would let him try it if he wasn’t good enough!”
“Sometimes I wonder what’s going on inside that boy’s head,” Mrs. Lindsay said. “I love him to pieces, but I feel as if I hardly know him. Do you know what I mean?”
“Mmm.” More rattling of newspaper.
Erin waited, but the conversation was over. There was nothing about loving their daughter to pieces. No talk about what was going on in her head. Why should they worry about their ordinary child when they had a genius to think about?
Erin scrunched the dishcloth into a little ball, her knuckles gleaming white through the start of a summer tan. When Rufus unexpectedly brushed against her ankles, she almost screamed.
“I wish Cowbird was dead!” The ugly words shot out like bullets, horrifying Erin, even though there was no one to hear but Rufus. The big cat darted away.
“I didn’t mean that,” she whispered quickly. “I didn’t mean it at all. I just wish he wasn’t part of this family. I wish he was gone.”
Rufus returned and stretched out at her feet, waiting to have his stomach rubbed, but Erin just looked at him. Saying those dreadful words had put a wall between her and the rest of the world. She was sure the ugliness inside her must show. No one would love her, if they knew what she was really like.
Not even Rufus.
The next morning was a long one. Cowper stayed home from class to get ready for his two o’clock audition. Instead of resting, he wandered around the apartment like a zombie before finally disappearing into his room. Erin tried to start on her video script, but her great ideas had vanished, and new ones refused to come. She jumped when her father came into the living room.
“I think,” he said somberly, “this would be a good time to tell your brother you’re ready to be friends.”
She panicked. Could her parents have heard the awful thing she’d said in the kitchen last night?
“I’m sure he feels bad about making you miss the zoo trip yesterday,” her father went on. “It’s worrying him, and besides that he seems pretty concerned about the audition this afternoon. You’d make him feel a lot better if you’d tell him you’re not still mad.”
Relief flooded over Erin. He hadn’t heard. “I’ll do it now,” she said and tossed her notebook aside. Maybe she could help herself to feel better at the same time.
When Erin knocked on Cowper’s bedroom door, there was a scrambling sound and then a soft “Okay.” He was at the window, his face so closed and private-looking that she almost changed her mind about making up.
“What’s the matter?” he asked warily.
“Nothing. I just wanted to say”—she forced herself to go on—“it’s okay about the zoo. We’ll go some other time. And I hope—I hope you do all right at your audition.”
“Thanks.” The closed expression slipped away, and now he just looked unhappy. Miserable. “But I won’t,” he said.
“Won’t what?”
“I won’t do all right. I know it.” Cowper’s voice cracked. “Listen,” he said tensely, “would you ask that—Molly if she’ll let me come to a seance? I know Uncle Jack says it’s just ventriloquism and tricks, but maybe he’s wrong. I went to see her myself, but she said I couldn’t be at a seance unless Uncle Jack and Aunt Grace said it was okay. And I know they won’t.”
“You said Molly was playing tricks, too,” Erin said accusingly. “Who do you want to talk to at the seance, anyway?”
“My mom and dad. I have to ask them something. I have to!”
“Ask them what?”
The Look returned, and Cowper stared out the window. “Just tell me if you’ll ask Molly,” he said stubbornly. “I need to know.”
“Okay.” Erin doubted it would do any good, but she couldn’t say no. This was a Cowper she’d never seen before. “We can go downstairs and see her right now if you want to.”
“Right!” Cowper was across the room and halfway down the hall before Erin could move—unflappable Cowbird who usually did everything at his own slow, steady pace!
Mr. Lindsay smiled approvingly when Erin told him she and Cowper were going to see Molly Panca together. “Good girl!” he exclaimed. “Maybe a change of scene will help.”
Five minutes later they were knocking at Molly’s door. “Come in, come in,” her sweet voice trilled, and her face lit up like a child’s when she saw them. “How wonderful! We were just hoping someone would drop by, weren’t we, darlings?”
Margaret Mary and the earl of Kirby were sitting side by side at one end of the couch, facing Molly at the other. Molly looked like a princess, Erin thought, a beautiful old princess. She wore a long silky robe with bluebirds all over it.
“It’s nice to have a little male company,” the earl of Kirby said. His voice was deep and pleasant. “Not that these ladies aren’t charming, of course.”
Erin glanced at Cowper. His mouth hung open, and his eyes were unbelieving. Obviously, he hadn’t met any of Molly’s family on his first visit.
“I’ve just told one of my favorite stories,” Margaret Mary announced. “Sit down and I’ll tell it again.”
Erin sank to the floor, cross-legged, and Cowper backed into the nearest chair without taking his eyes from the dolls.
“I don’t think we’ll have the story again right now,” Molly said gently. “I believe our friends have come for a reason. Am I right?”
Cowper, still staring at the dolls, seemed unable to speak, so Erin answered for him. “What we wanted to know was whether you’d let Cowper come to a seance. See, his real mother and father died two years ago, and he needs to talk to them about something important.”
Cowper tore his gaze away from Margaret Mary and the earl. “Just one question,” he pleaded. “That’s all.”
Molly Panca sat very still. “What is the question, dear?”
He took a deep breath. “I want to know—I want to know if my mom and dad would care if I quit playing the piano. For a while.”
Erin scrambled to her knees to face him. “Quit!” she exclaimed. “I thought you loved playing the piano.”
“I do,” Cowper said softly. “But not all the time. I mean, if it’s okay with them, I’d like to sort of slow down.”
Erin could hardly believe what she was hearing. Even though she was sick-sick-SICK of having a genius in the family, it was scary to discover Cowper was sick of it, too.
“Have you told Erin’s mother and father how you feel?” Molly asked. “I think they’d want to know.”
“Of course he’s told them,” the earl of Kirby interrupted. “No sense in keeping a thing like that to yourself.”
Cowper was speechless again. He shook his head confusedly, looking first at the earl, then at Molly.
“My mother and father want him to be famous,” Erin explained.
“Nevertheless, old chap,” the earl said firmly, “you have to speak up. It’s necessary.”
“I always do,” Margaret Mary said. “Ask anybody.”
“About the seance,” Erin said. “Do you think you could …”
Molly looked regretful. “I’m sorry, I just can’t allow it unless your parents say it’s all right, Erin. I’d like to help, but they might be very angry if I said yes. You understand, don’t you?”
Cowper slid out of his chair, his expression blank again. “Sure,” he said. “Thanks anyway.” He turned to Erin. “I guess we’d better go home now so I can get ready for this afternoon.”
“You have a special afternoon coming up?” Margaret Mary said brightly. “Lucky old you.”
Cowper didn’t smile. “Yeah, lucky,” he said.
Trailing after him, Erin wished Molly would say something cheering before they left, but it was the earl of Kirby who had the last word as they went out the door. “Don’t forget, old chap—speak up. That’s what makes a real man.”
“Or a real woman,” Margaret Ma
ry called after the door had closed behind them. “Ask anybody.”
Chapter Ten
“So what are you going to do?” Erin whispered, as they let themselves into the apartment. She felt strange, now that she knew Cowper’s incredible secret. All this time she’d been resenting him because his piano playing was the most important thing in their lives. Now, it turned out, he didn’t like it any better than she did.
Cowper pretended not to hear her question, and suddenly Erin wanted to shake him. He wouldn’t do anything to help himself. It was easier to go along with what other people wanted.
The morning mail was spread on the hall table. Erin skimmed through it and found a letter from Heather—at last. She snatched it up and hurried back to her bedroom. The sight of Heather’s handwriting made her more homesick than ever. Quickly, she slit the envelope and skimmed over the contents, trying to swallow all the news in one big bite.
Most of the letter was devoted to the trip to the haunted schoolhouse. “We waited till dark, but the ghost didn’t show up. And then when we got home, my mom changed her mind about letting us go to the horror movie. The sleepover was fun though, even if nobody’s ghost stories are as spooky as yours.…”
So it hadn’t been the scariest night of their lives after all. But at least Heather and Emily and Meg were together, Erin thought wistfully. She read on. “We’re going to Emily’s next Friday. Her dad likes to rent spooky movies, so I know we can watch them there. And we’re going to sleep in that big old attic over the garage. It’ll be the scariest night ever. Wish you could be there.…”
Erin sighed. Well, at least she had her video to think about. As soon as it was finished she’d send it to Heather, maybe in time for next week’s sleepover. If it was as terrific as she wanted it to be, she’d make another, and then another—a whole series starring Erin Lindsay, Ghost Detective.
Lunch was quiet, with Cowper refusing even to come to the table.
“Too nervous,” Mr. Lindsay reported after a quick visit to the back bedroom. “I wish your mother was home. I guess Molly Hanky-Panky didn’t do much for his state of mind, huh?”
Erin kept her eyes on her cheese-and-pickle sandwich. “Guess not.”
“Well, he’ll be all right after this afternoon is over.”
Erin said nothing. If she told her father what Cowper had said to Molly about quitting, he’d dismiss it as “nerves.” If she told her mother, she’d say Erin was jealous and was trying to find a way to get them back to Clinton. It was up to Cowper to do his own telling.
After lunch Erin settled down in her room and began working on the video script in earnest.
Important rule: Don’t have more than three people in a scene. Someone has to handle the camcorder.
In the first scene, Mr. and Mrs.—she thought a moment, then wrote “Dooley”; that was Heather’s last name—Mr. and Mrs. Dooley would visit Detective Lindsay’s office to tell her about the weird events that had begun when they moved into their apartment. And after that there would be a long scene in which the brave detective spends a night in the apartment by herself. The scariest night of her life!
Erin chuckled as she jotted down all the bloodcurdling experiences Detective Lindsay was going to have. There would be loud knocking in the walls and papers fluttering mysteriously on a desk. (Someone could stand out of range of the camera and point the hair dryer at the papers to make them move.) With colorless nylon thread a vase could be made to slide off a table, and a picture could shift on the wall. A closed door might open all by itself (with the help of her father or Cowper hidden behind it).
And then the most horrifying moment of all—the discovery of a corpse lying on the floor! That would be Cowper. She would turn away—to pick up her camera and photograph the evidence, maybe?—and when she would look back, the corpse would be gone.
Who is the ghost-corpse? Why is he haunting the Dooleys’ apartment? It would be up to clever Detective Lindsay to find the answers. Erin nibbled the end of her pencil and considered different possibilities. Maybe … maybe … Her pencil flew over the page with a perfect solution to the mystery. It would mean Cowper must play two parts instead of one, but he would have to do it. She’d gone with him to visit Molly Panca, so he owed her a favor, didn’t he?
She worked for another hour before she stopped. The script was complete. Wait till Heather and Meg and Emily see this! she thought. It might be corny but it would be fun. If she couldn’t be there with them to tell ghost stories, the video would be the next best thing.
The apartment was silent when she opened her bedroom door. Rufus followed her down the hall to the living room, where they found Mrs. Lindsay reading a textbook. She put the book aside and rubbed her eyes wearily when Erin came in.
“Your door was closed when I got home from class, so I didn’t bother you. Were you taking a nap?”
“Writing.” Erin tried to sound offhand. “My script.”
“Wonderful!” Her mother sounded genuinely pleased. “You look as if you’ve had a satisfying afternoon. Now if we can just say the same about your brother … They should be home from the audition any time now.”
She’d hardly said the words when a key turned in the lock and the hall door opened. Rufus leaped to the back of the couch, and they all stared expectantly as Cowper and Mr. Lindsay came into the living room.
Erin’s father was smiling, but it wasn’t a relaxed, let’s-celebrate grin. Cowper looked terrible. He shot Erin a glance of pure pain and then stared at the floor as if he’d never seen a flowered carpet before.
“Goodness!” Mrs. Lindsay’s voice sounded strained. “Is everything all right?”
“Sure is,” Erin’s father replied, too heartily. “Cowper thinks he didn’t do his best work, but I’m sure he’s worrying for nothing. I’m sure—”
“I stopped,” Cowper interrupted. “Right in the middle of the second movement.”
“You mean you forgot?” Erin was astonished. Cowper never worried about forgetting; it had always seemed to her that the music must be inside him just waiting to be played.
Cowper’s face flushed a dark red.
“But he started right up again,” Mr. Lindsay said quickly. “That kind of thing could happen to anybody—doesn’t mean a thing.”
Mrs. Lindsay took a deep breath. “What did the person from the university say?”
“That’s Mr. Corini. He conducts the symphony orchestra. He’s going to give us a call tomorrow and tell us the good news.”
Cowper looked as if he might throw up. “I’m going to lie down for a while,” he said. “I’m sort of tired.”
Mrs. Lindsay jumped up and went with him down the hall.
“It wasn’t as bad as he thinks,” Erin’s father said. He threw himself into a chair and stretched his long legs. “He wants to be perfect—that’s the problem. Nothing matters except playing the piano.”
Erin marveled that her father, who knew so much, could be all wrong about Cowper. She wondered what it would take to make him see the truth.
“Look,” he said now, “I was just thinking—how’s that play of yours coming along?”
“My video,” Erin said. “It’s all finished. The script, I mean.”
“Great!” He sat up. “How about putting your actors to work tomorrow? Your mother doesn’t have classes in the morning, and maybe I can take a day off. We’ll suggest that Cowper skip one more class, too. What do you say?”
“Tomorrow!” Erin was pleased with his enthusiasm, but she’d counted on more time to plan the weird things the ghost would do to frighten Detective Lindsay and get her attention. “Can’t we wait a couple more days?”
“The thing is,” Mr. Lindsay said, “Corini will probably call in the morning about the audition. If he doesn’t think Cowper’s ready to do a concert, the poor kid’s going to feel terrible. I thought if we all got busy on something together, we could take his mind off his troubles.”
So that was it. Her father wasn’t really interested in the
video; he just wanted to keep Cowper busy. Erin started to say she couldn’t possibly be ready tomorrow, but then she remembered how Cowper had looked when he came home from the audition. She didn’t want to feel sorry for him, but she couldn’t help it.
“Okay,” she said reluctantly. “I guess it’ll be all right.”
Her father leaned back and smiled at her. “Terrific!” he said. “We can always depend on you, my queen.”
Hearing that ought to help, Erin thought. Sara Crewe would be happy if someone said that to her. But I don’t want to be dependable, I want to be special.
Like Cowbird.
Chapter Eleven
The sky was just beginning to turn gray when Erin switched off her alarm, slipped into jeans and a top, and tiptoed down the hall. She planned to use her bedroom for Detective Lindsay’s office, but most of the video would take place in the living room. She’d left some spools of thread on the coffee table the night before, and now she set right to work. For what seemed like hours last night, she’d planned the “tricks” that the ghost could play.
By the time Erin’s parents and Cowper wandered down the hall, she was ready. Standing at the door, she could make a vase slide mysteriously across a table, simply by tugging on a length of invisible nylon thread. Another piece of thread, double strength, made a footstool tip over. The heavy painting over the couch slid sideways with a couple of tugs; a little metal plate fell off its shelf with a startling smack.
“What’re you doing?” Cowper asked dully.
“Watch,” Erin said. She crouched and pulled a thread. The pottery vase full of fake flowers began to move slowly toward the edge of the end table.
Cowper’s eyes widened. “How’d you do that?” he demanded.
Erin showed him the thread wrapped around her finger. “You and Mom and Dad are going to have to do all the tricks,” she said. “I’ll be acting.” She’d practiced looking scared in front of the mirror before she went to bed last night.
Cowper picked up another thread and gave it a tentative pull. The painting over the couch slipped sideways. “What else?” he asked. “This is fun.”
The Scariest Night Page 6
