Mystery in the Mansion

by Lauren Magaziner

  “Not to mention,” I add, “Patty admitted she wants revenge on you.”

  Guinevere grins, nice and wide. “Smythe!” she says gleefully. “Call the police! After all these years, I finally got her! I finally got her!”

  As Smythe runs into the kitchen to call the police, Eliza and I high-five.

  “Let’s go watch the police pull up to her house,” I say.

  Guinevere says she, Ivy, Smythe, and Maddock will meet us outside in a moment. But Eliza and I don’t wait. We sit on the porch, but Frank is especially antsy, so he rolls around in the driveway, wrestling with an imaginary monster.

  Our view is blocked as Otto drives by on his lawn mower, which seems ridiculous because the grass is already short. “Hi there, kids,” Otto says, stopping the mower’s engine. “What are you looking at?”

  “We’re waiting for the police.”

  Otto stiffens. “Oh . . . I didn’t realize you’d solved the case. . . .”

  “It was Patty Schnozzleton,” I say.

  Otto combs a hand through his smooth blond hair. “Patty! Well! Who would’ve thought? Well, I’ll see you later!”

  Eliza squints. I know that face—she sees something important.

  “His lawn mower,” she says quietly.

  I look at the mower. It’s all perfectly green . . . except for a little splash of red by the ignition. It looks like a red handprint that dried on the vehicle. But why would Otto’s hand have been red? Unless . . .

  Eliza gasps. “You painted the second death threat! Then you touched your lawn mower, and the paint dried. We’ve caught you red-handed!”

  Otto shakes his head. “I—I don’t know what you’re talking about!”

  “Why didn’t I see it before?” Eliza says, getting to her feet. “You probably landscape everyone’s lawn in this neighborhood, so you have easy access to everyone’s property. You kept the paint at Patty’s house so you wouldn’t get caught with it—or so you could frame her. And you snuck into Guinevere’s house to leave her death threats.”

  “That’s why you’re always asking us about the case!” I say. “You want to make sure we hadn’t caught on to you yet!”

  “You’re crazy,” he says with a laugh. “You kids are crazy.”

  “All the evidence points to you,” Eliza says. “The only thing I can’t understand is . . . how do you even know about the treasure in the first place?”

  The police pull up and stop in front of Patty’s house. I have to tell Guinevere they’re about to arrest the wrong person. I run into the house, and Eliza follows.

  “Mrs. LeCavalier!” I shriek.

  “Mrs. LeCavalier!” Eliza hollers.

  “Oh no you don’t!” says Otto from the front entrance.

  Eliza and I run around the shattered chandelier glass, and Otto chases us. I’m screaming and screaming and screaming. My lungs are sore. I turn around—Otto is getting closer.

  “MRS. LECAVALIER!”

  “Oh no!” Eliza cries, pointing out the window. Guinevere is sitting on the lawn with Ivy, Smythe, Maddock, and a bucket of popcorn. She’s pointing at Patty and laughing as poor Patty is being dragged out of her house in handcuffs.

  Mrs. LeCavalier, Ivy, Smythe, and Maddock must have gone out the side door.

  THUMP.

  A heavy footstep at the end of our hallway.

  I run. Eliza runs. We run, run, run.

  We are in a house alone with the culprit.

  And he is fast. His footsteps sound closer and closer and—

  WHACK.

  My head explodes with a sharp pain.

  My vision goes fuzzy.

  Then dark.

  “Carlos, wake up!” whispers Eliza, her voice trembling. She pets my hair like I’m a cat.

  I groan.

  “Oh, thank goodness!” she says, hugging me. “You’re okay!”

  “Frank?” I croak.

  “Here!” Frank says, like I’m taking attendance or something.

  “He got Frank too. Even though Frank didn’t know anything.”

  “He got me with candy,” Frank says. “Or he PROMISED me candy. But so far, I see no candy, Mr. Meanie.”

  I open my eyes. Wherever we are, it’s dark. I can barely see anything. I reach around the ground, just to try to get my bearings, and the only thing I can feel are lots of shoes.

  “Where are we?” I ask.

  “A closet in Guinevere’s house.”

  “Can we scream for help?”

  “Frank and I tried that,” Eliza says. “No response.”

  I try to sit up, but I still feel dizzy. “Can we call for Otto? Maybe he can hear us.”

  A voice, cold and cutting, comes from the other side of the door. “I can hear you.”

  “Are you going to keep us here forever?”

  Otto laughs. I don’t know why I didn’t notice it before, but he has a really nasty laugh. “I’m sure someone will find you in a year. After you starve to death.”

  Eliza grips my hand.

  “But what if I have to pee?” Frank demands.

  I want to laugh and cry . . . and give Frank a hug. Clearly he has no idea how much trouble we’re in.

  “Will you answer our questions?” I ask.

  A pause. “I don’t see how it will hurt,” Otto says. “Just a few. Then I have to go collect my treasure.”

  * * *

  TO ASK OTTO HOW HE KNOWS ABOUT THE TREASURE, CLICK HERE.

  TO ASK OTTO WHY HE WAS THREATENING GUINEVERE, CLICK HERE.

  * * *

  I GO FIRST on the bookshelf ladder, and Frank follows me.

  “UP, UP, UP!” he barks. “WALK THE PLANK, YOU . . . YOU JELLYFISH FACE!” Then he laughs hysterically.

  “Do you see anything up there, Carlos?” Eliza calls from the bottom rung.

  Not yet.

  In the movies, sometimes if you tug on a book, it opens up a secret passageway. So I start pulling all the books off the shelf and throwing them down on the floor.

  And that’s when I see something: marks carved into the wood on the back of the bookshelf. When the books are shelved, it blocks the message from view. I start pulling out books frantically, to see more of the hidden message.

  STUDY IS LOST AND CAN’T

  I think—since the bookshelf is circular—that the words might go all the way around the whole room’s shelf. Making a full circle.

  “Eliza! Frank! There’s something here!” I say. “Push the ladder around the room! I have to take all the top books off the shelf so I can read the message behind them!”

  Eliza and Frank slowly move the ladder—with me holding on for dear life—around the room, and I fling the books off the top shelves to reveal the words carved into the back of the circular bookshelf. When I’m done, there’s a poem that loops around the whole room.

  When I finish reading, I scratch my head. What does that even mean?

  “Eliza?” I say.

  She scrunches her eyebrows and bites her lip—her thinking face.

  “Upside down? Misplaced books? Oh!” she gasps. “The books I was rearranging! They were upside down for a reason!”

  My stomach drops. “Oh no! Did you ruin our chances at solving this puzzle?”

  “Don’t worry—I remember which ones were upside down.”

  She runs to the bookshelf and unorganizes the bookshelf again. Meanwhile, I crawl down the ladder so that I can get a good look at the books, too.

  Frank moves to pull one of the books off the shelf, but Eliza catches his hand.

  “Look with your eyes, Frank!”

  “Awww,” Frank complains. “I like looking with my hands.”

  Eliza nods toward the books, then turns to me with a dazzling grin. “I think I get it.”

  “You do?” I say. “Because I’m totally lost.” I’m more lost now than I am in math class—and that’s saying something.

  “‘With a look at misplaced books, unscramble the first,’” she recites.

  “Uh-huh . . . ,” I s
ay. Honestly, all I hear is blah blah blahbity blah.

  Eliza hums. “The first . . .”

  “The first what?”

  “Yeah!” Frank echoes. “The FIRST WHAT?”

  “It has to be the first letter of each book title,” Eliza says. “The first word wouldn’t make any sense, so it must be the first letter of each book that was upside down. That’s the answer to this puzzle!”

  I pull out a piece of paper and get to work.

  * * *

  THE SOLUTION TO THE PUZZLE WILL LEAD YOU TO YOUR NEXT PAGE.

  IF YOU THINK THE ANSWER IS ONE HUNDRED, CLICK HERE.

  IF YOU THINK THE ANSWER IS TWO HUNDRED, CLICK HERE.

  TO GET A HINT FROM ELIZA, CLICK HERE.

  * * *

  AFTER THINKING IT over, I realize that Eliza might be right about investigating the past.

  We arrive at Guinevere’s house very early, only this time it’s eerily quiet. Patty Schnozzleton isn’t staring at us from her window, and Otto is nowhere to be found on the lawn. And when we ring the doorbell, it takes Smythe ten minutes to get us.

  “Mmmmf,” he grunts. We strut forward, but Smythe blocks us from entering the house with his legs like tree trunks. “You can’t come inside right now,” he says. “The missus and miss are not home.”

  I check my watch—it’s crazy early! Like, butt crack of dawn early! That’s really weird. “If they’re not home, where are they?”

  Smythe squints. “They checked into a hotel late last night, after a death threat appeared.”

  My heart starts pounding.

  “A-another one?” Eliza squeaks.

  “I can’t let you in here.”

  “CAN’T?” Frank says, putting his hands on his hips. “OR WON’T?”

  Smythe considers for a moment. “You’re right. I won’t let you in here.”

  Then he slams the door in our faces.

  “Now what?” Eliza says.

  “A good detective never gives up!” I say.

  “TO THE BATMOBILE!” cries Frank, and he runs down the steps. I grab him around his middle and lift him up, but he keeps pedaling his legs, even though he isn’t moving.

  “No Batmobile, buddy,” I say.

  As far as I can see it, we only have one option if we’re going to continue the case.

  We have to break in.

  Breaking and entering is a crime . . . which goes against Las Pistas Detective Agency’s code of honor, but drastic times call for drastic measures. We can’t let Mom down. A third death threat, and I am getting desperate to end this mystery.

  We circle around to the backyard. Way far back, near a line of trees, there’s a toolshed and a small garden of vegetables and flowers. Lining the house are tall hedges in the shapes of teacups, big enough for me to sit in. Guinevere really likes her leafy water.

  “Quick! Behind the hedges!” Eliza says.

  She and I run behind the hedges, but Frank crawls on his stomach, slithering along like a snake. At first it’s kind of funny, but after two minutes, it’s annoying. After five minutes, I’m fuming.

  “Come! On!” I whisper-yell at him.

  “I’m an international super-secret agent ninja spy detective zombie wizard,” he says. “That’s what I want to be when I grow up!”

  “We don’t have time for this! We have to solve this case now! The clock is ticking!”

  Eliza studies me. “Carlos. We’re on the case. It’s going to be oka—”

  “It’s not!” I say, feeling myself flush from the pressure. I think about Mom, her agency, our broken-down house, our non–air conditioner, and I want to burst. But it’s all a secret, and it’s eating up my stomach. “It’s not okay, Eliza. This is all just a big game to Frank! And a puzzle to you! But it’s real to me!”

  I run forward, grab Frank by the ankles, and start dragging him to the house.

  “Come on, Frank!”

  “Noooooooooooooooooo! Get off me!”

  “You’re hurting him, Carlos! Let go!”

  Frank claws at the grass, curling his fingers around clumps, but I keep tugging him forward.

  Then he starts to cry and kick his legs. A full-on meltdown.

  “Carlos, what is wrong with you?” Eliza says, running to her brother’s side. I drop Frank’s ankles, horrified, and she sweeps him up in her arms.

  I can’t even look at him. “I am so sorry, buddy. I didn’t mean to hurt you. I just . . . I’m letting the pressure get to me.”

  “What pressure?” Eliza says.

  I look down. “I’m just nervous . . . about my mom.” I’ve kept this secret from her for so long, I just can’t tell her. “But that’s no excuse to be mean to Frank. Can you forgive me, Frank?”

  “If you buy me a cookie,” Frank says.

  “Of course.”

  “Ten cookies.”

  “Sure.”

  “A hundred cookies!”

  “Okay.”

  “A HUNDRED MILLION COOKIES!”

  Eliza frowns. “What do you mean you’re nervous about your mom? What does that have to do with us right now?”

  I press my lips together tightly.

  “Carlos . . .”

  “We’re having money problems,” I say as quietly as I can. “The last case Mom had was six months ago, and it was a complete failure. It ruined her business. This case is it. The last straw—it determines whether Mom remains a detective or we go bankrupt. We might have to move in with my abuela.” My whole throat feels wobbly, and I can’t say anything.

  “I didn’t know about your mom’s last case,” Eliza says. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  I can’t look at her. I shrug as I stare down at my shoes.

  “Carlos, we’re best friends. I’m supposed to be here for you, but it’s hard to do that if you don’t tell me what’s going on,” Eliza says gently. “Best friends never keep secrets from each other, okay?”

  “Promise,” I say, swallowing the lump in my throat.

  “And don’t worry. We will solve this case for your mom.”

  I nod. We have to keep going for Mom. Think of Mom!

  “Hey! I thought I told you kids to get lost!” Smythe shouts, swinging open the back door. “What are you still doing here?” He glares down at us. He is one scary dude.

  I have seconds to figure out a plan, but I have two pretty good ideas. . . .

  * * *

  TO TRY TO RUN BETWEEN SMYTHE’S LEGS, CLICK HERE.

  TO TRY TO REASON WITH SMYTHE, CLICK HERE.

  * * *

  “COME ON!” I say to Eliza and Frank. “The only way we’re going to get out of here is if we find a key for the door.”

  I start opening drawers and crawl under the desk, but I don’t see any key. Eliza and Frank are rustling around behind me, and for three people who are supposed to be quiet, we sure are making a lot of noise.

  “You kids okay?” says a muffled voice from the air vent.

  “Please!” I shout. “Help! Come help us! We’re locked in a secret room behind Mr. LeCavalier’s study!”

  “I know that,” says the voice. And with a sudden jolt in my stomach, I realize who it is: Otto. Again! “I don’t know how you shut off the air,” he says, “but you can’t stop this!”

  Sssssssssssssssssssssssss!

  Through the vent, garden snakes and worms of all kinds come pouring in, flooding the room! Soon they’re up to my ankles . . . then my thigh . . . then my waist. They’re just getting funneled in! Like Otto has a dump truck of snakes and worms!

  The pile keeps on growing. It’s as high as my chest! As high as my neck! As high as my mou—mmmmmm!

  CASE CLOSED.

  MAYBE I NEED Eliza’s help after all.

  I hand her the phone, and she starts filling in more of the numbers, muttering to herself as she works.

  “That’s good!” I say, taking the phone back from her. “I can handle the rest!”

  “You got this, Carlos. Just remember that every row and column has to have the number
s one, two, three, and four, with no repeats.”

  “No repeats!” repeats Frank.

  * * *

  WHEN YOU HAVE SOLVED THE PUZZLE, ADD UP THE NUMBERS IN THE HIGHLIGHTED BOXES AND MULTIPLY THE SOLUTION BY TWO.

  IF YOU THINK THE ANSWER IS 40, CLICK HERE.

  IF YOU THINK THE ANSWER IS 60, CLICK HERE.

  * * *

  I’VE COUNTED THE circles on the tapestry, like, fifteen times, and I’m pretty sure I’ve got the right answer. I enter thirty-one into a number pad beside the tapestry, and suddenly the wall begins to sink down into the earth with enormously loud rumbles.

  Ahead, Otto has his hand on Guinevere’s shoulder, and it looks threatening . . . like he’s trying to keep his hand as close to her neck as possible. Their bodies are facing another puzzle on the wall ahead, but their faces are turned over their shoulders, so they can both stare at the sinking wall—the only thing that separated them and us.

  Otto lifts his lantern. He squints in our direction, and when he recognizes us, his face lights up with a terrible, toothy smile.

  “Ah,” Otto says. “You’ve joined us.”

  I don’t know why I ever thought he was friendly. His eyes are icy, and his cheeks are stone, and his teeth are sharp. He looks about as friendly as a knife.

  I raise the lantern in my hands to get a better look. It’s terribly dark in the next room, but I have to be brave. “Let Mrs. LeCavalier go!”

  “Detectives!” Guinevere wails, snotting into her sleeve. “You found me!”

  She starts to move, but Otto’s arm instantly curls around her neck.

  “D-don’t,” I say tensely. “Let her go.”

  I take a step forward, but Otto snarls, “Move, and you’ll regret it.”

  My stomach drops, and my heart is beating quick and fast. What do I do? What do I do? Frank moves closer to me, and I know he’s scared. And Eliza is unusually silent.

  “Eliza?” I whisper.

  She whimpers. “Whatever you do, don’t look at the left wall!”