The House Has Eyes

by Joan Lowery Nixon

  “It’s dark now.”

  “But not dark enough. Finish your Cokes. I’ll get some cookies. Wait just a little while until it’s good and dark.” He grabbed Brian’s arm and begged, “Please? I promise you, the ghosts are going to show up.”

  4

  BRIAN NODDED AND PICKED up his pen. “Forget the cookies for now,” he said. “Give us some information. Exactly how long have you and your parents lived in this house?”

  “Exactly eight … no, nine days.”

  “How long have Martin and Zelda Elbert been working for your parents?”

  “My parents hired them before we even moved into the house.”

  “They’d worked for you before?”

  “No. We have a housekeeper at home in New York—Mrs. Beldon. But her mother got sick so Mrs. Beldon went home to take care of her. That’s why my parents brought me with them. There was nowhere they could leave me.”

  “Do you know where they met the Elberts? Or how they happened to hire them?”

  “I think the real estate agent recommended them.”

  Brian stopped writing and looked at Charles “Okay. Next question. What makes you think there are ghosts in the house?”

  Charles looked frightened. He glanced at Sean, then back to Brian. “The staring eyes, for one thing.”

  “What staring eyes?” Sean asked. He began to feel creepy, as though eyes were staring at him right that minute.

  “Sometimes,” Charles said, his voice trembling, “I’ve seen eyes looking at me from the walls of the house.”

  Brian raised one eyebrow in disbelief.

  “It’s true. Really!” Charles insisted. “One second the eyes are there, staring at me, watching me. The next second they disappear.”

  “That’s it? Eyes in the walls?” Brian made another note.

  “No, there’s more,” Charles answered. “Sometimes I hear noises, like bumps or knocks, and low voices in some of the rooms. I’ve looked, but no one’s there.”

  “Have you told your parents what you just told us?”

  “Sure I have, but it doesn’t do any good. We’ve only lived in this house a little more than a week, and most of the time Mom and Dad are gone. The ghosts haven’t come around while my parents have been here, so they don’t believe me. My father thinks it’s all my imagination. My mother thinks I’m making up stories to get attention.”

  Sean thought about how lonely it must be to hardly ever see your parents. He wouldn’t blame Charles if he did make up stories.

  Mrs. Elbert entered the dining room, and Charles became quiet. She closed the heavy drapes over the windows, then removed the dirty dishes.

  As soon as she left the room, Brian asked Charles, “Have you told the Elberts about seeing and hearing ghosts?”

  “No,” Charles said. “Mrs. Elbert might listen to me, but she probably wouldn’t believe me either. And Mr. Elbert’s such a grouch that I don’t want to talk to him about anything.”

  Brian still felt doubtful. “Of the five people who live in this house, you’re the only one who has had any visits from the ghosts.”

  “That’s not my fault,” Charles complained. He pushed back his chair and stood. “It’s dark enough now. Come with me. I’ll prove there are ghosts. And don’t make any noise.”

  Sean and Brian followed Charles down a long, dim hallway into what must have once been a wood-paneled library or office, with empty bookshelves along the left-hand wall.

  Charles shut the door, and eyes suddenly began to gleam through the darkness.

  “Yikes!” Sean yelled.

  But Brian felt along the wall until he found a light switch. “Luminous paint,” he said. “You painted the eyes, Charles. A smudge of paint on your hand was glowing, too. What kind of a trick are you playing on us?”

  “Okay, I drew the eyes,” Charles said, his voice trembling. “But it wasn’t a trick. Eyes sometimes do look at me from the walls, but I never know when they’ll come. I didn’t want you and Sean not to believe me.”

  Brian shook his head. “I think this case is closed,” he said.

  “No! Please help me!” Charles insisted. “There are ghosts haunting this house!” He turned to Sean. “You want to help me, don’t you, Sean?”

  Sean opened his mouth to answer, but he couldn’t speak. Among the wood panels on the left wall a real eye had appeared.

  “L-L-Look!” Sean stammered and tugged on Brian’s arm.

  Brian followed the direction of Sean’s gaze, and gasped when he saw the eye.

  Charles squeaked, as if he were a mouse caught by a cat. Both Brian and Sean turned to look at Charles and were startled by the terror on Charles’s face.

  They looked back at the wall, but the eye was no longer there.

  Brian, Sean, and Charles ran out of the library and into the room next door.

  “It’s empty!” Brian said.

  “It can’t be,” Sean told him. “We saw the eye. Somebody had to be here looking through a hole in the paneling. He couldn’t have got away this fast.”

  Charles started forward, but Brian put out a hand, holding him back. “Wait,” he said. “Look at the floor. Lots of dust and no shoe prints but our own. No one’s been in this room for a long time.”

  “But we saw someone looking through the wall,” Sean said. “He had to be in here.”

  “Now maybe you’ll believe me that the house is haunted,” Charles said. “Ghosts don’t wear shoes. Ghosts don’t leave footprints.”

  Brian ran his fingers over the rough textured wall and found nothing. “Let’s take another look at the library,” he said.

  Brian, Sean, and Charles pushed and pried at the panels in the wood, where they’d seen the eye, but nothing slid back. No gaping hole suddenly opened. The paneling looked solid, its designs molded to stay in place forever.

  “I don’t get it,” Sean said.

  “It’s just like I told you,” Charles insisted. “The house has eyes. I’ve seen them here and in the entry hall and in the living room.” He turned to face Brian. “Well?” he asked. “Have you changed your mind now? Will you take the job and get rid of the ghosts in this house?”

  “Sean and I can’t promise to get rid of them,” Brian said. “We aren’t even sure we’re dealing with ghosts. But we’ll take the case. We’ll see what we can do.”

  “Thank you,” Charles said.

  A low bonging sound suddenly echoed throughout the house.

  Sean jumped, but Charles said, “That’s the doorbell. Your mother must have come for you. Mr. Elbert will let her in.”

  But as Charles led the way into the narrow hallway, Mr. Elbert stepped up behind Brian. He took his arm and pulled him back. Quietly, he said, “Charles told you about the ghosts.”

  Brian was wary. “Ghosts?” he repeated.

  Mr. Elbert’s lips turned up in a smile, but his eyes were dark. “I can imagine that he told you the same things he told his parents.”

  “How do you know what Charles told his parents?”

  The smile turned into a grin. “The walls don’t just have eyes, they have ears as well.”

  “Are you trying to say that the ghosts are in Charles’s imagination?”

  “Of course they’re in Charles’s imagination,” Mr. Elbert answered. “He’s a lonely boy. He has … uh … problems.” His voice grew even softer as he added, “You and your brother take my friendly advice and stay away. If you don’t … well, there’s no telling what might happen.”

  5

  AS SOON AS BRIAN and Sean arrived home, they held a meeting upstairs in Brian’s room.

  “Mr. Elbert warned us to stay away or something might happen,” Brian told Sean.

  “He knows about the ghosts?”

  “He said the house isn’t haunted. He thinks, too, that the ghosts are just in Charles’s imagination,” Brian said.

  “We know that’s not true. We saw the eye. Is Mr. Elbert just afraid we’ll break something if we hang around?”

  �
�I don’t know,” Brian said. “I can’t figure out why the so-called ghosts are haunting Charles and not his parents or the Elberts.”

  “Maybe it’s just like Charles told us. His parents haven’t been home long enough to have seen the eyes,” Sean said.

  “But the Elberts have.”

  Brian scanned his notes and said, “We need a lot of information. To start with, I want to know more about the Elberts. Let’s ask Dad to do a computer check on them.”

  “How about a check on the Colliers, too?” Sean wadded one of Brian’s pillows into a ball and leaned on it.

  With a jerk Brian pulled his pillow away from Sean and stuck it behind his own head. Sean rolled onto his stomach and rested his chin on his hands.

  “Bri,” he said, “Charles told us that his parents have been gone most of the time. It would be tough enough to be left alone in a new, strange place with people you hardly knew. And it would be a lot worse if the house your parents had picked out came with ghosts. What I’m saying is, we’ve got to figure this thing out and help Charles.”

  “We will,” Brian said. He slid off the bed and got to his feet. “Let’s go talk to Dad now.”

  Mr. Quinn was watching a football game on television, but Brian interrupted. “Dad,” he said, “could you do a computer check on the people hired to take care of Charles? Their names are Martin and Zelda Elbert.”

  Mr. Quinn looked surprised. “In order to invade someone’s privacy, I’d need a very good reason.”

  “Martin Elbert isn’t nice to Charles,” Sean said. “He wasn’t very nice to us, either.”

  “That’s not enough of a reason. The Colliers hired the Elberts. Since they left their son in the Elberts’ care, I’m sure they checked their references carefully.”

  “Maybe they thought they were careful, but they weren’t careful enough,” Sean said. “The Colliers are awfully busy people and their jobs take them out of town a lot.”

  “Have the Elberts harmed Charles in any way, or threatened to harm him?”

  “No.”

  “Do you have any reason to believe that Charles is in any danger from the Elberts?”

  “I guess not,” Brian said.

  He and Sean looked at each other. Sean knew they were remembering the same thing—the honest fear on Charles’s face when the real eye appeared.

  Mrs. Quinn came into the room and said, “Boys, it’s way past your bedtime. If your homework’s finished, run along upstairs and get ready for bed.”

  “Okay, Mom,” Brian told her.

  “We’re working on a case,” Sean said.

  Mrs. Quinn sighed. “Maybe I should hire you to find the people who sold that handbag to me. During my lunch hour I took it to the store in Lanita, where I’d bought it, and found they’d gone out of business. The building was empty.”

  “You may have been the victim of a scam,” Mr. Quinn said.

  “I’m sure I was,” Mrs. Quinn said. “I should have realized that the price was much too low. I was sold a cheap copy with a fake label instead of a real designer handbag.”

  “I’m sorry, Mom,” Sean said.

  Mrs. Quinn gave him a hug, smiled, and said, “Upstairs, quickly! Now it’s way, way past your bedtime.”

  As they climbed the stairs, Sean asked Brian, “How are we going to learn anything about the Elberts?”

  “I’m not sure yet,” Brian answered, “but there must be someone who can tell us where they came from and how long they’ve been in Redoaks.”

  As they reached the top of the stairs, Brian said, “I wonder how many keys there are to the Everhart mansion. How many people are able to get in and out of that old house?”

  “Charles’s parents and the Elberts must have keys,” Sean said. “I’ll ask Charles if he has one, too.”

  “Okay,” Brian said. “And we’ve got questions about the eye: Where did it come from? How did it appear and disappear? The person staring at us had to have been in the next room, looking through a peephole in the wall.”

  “But there was no peephole.”

  “Yeah, and no footprints in the dust in the next room, which proves no one could have been there, unless …”

  “Unless what?” Sean asked.

  “Tell Charles we’re coming back tomorrow, this time right after school lets out,” Brian said. “There’s at least one thing I think we can figure out.”

  As Sean arrived at school the next morning, Debbie Jean Parker planted herself in his path. “Tell me!” she insisted.

  “Tell you what?” Sean asked.

  “You know what I’m talking about, Sean Quinn. Tell me about the ghosts in the Everhart mansion.”

  Matt and Jabez edged up, listening intently. A few others from the class followed.

  “I have nothing to tell you,” Sean said. “You’ll have to ask my client.”

  Debbie Jean scowled, her cheeks and nose turning red. “I bet you didn’t go looking for ghosts. I bet you got scared and didn’t go near the Everhart mansion!”

  “Sorry. No comment,” Sean said and grinned. There was nothing he liked better than bugging Debbie Jean.

  “Ha!” Debbie Jean said. “Even if you won’t tell me, I’m going to find out.”

  He saw Charles coming to join them, so he said to Matt and Jabez, “I’ll see you guys later. I have to talk to my client.”

  Debbie Jean sputtered, “Oh, you … you …”

  “Casebuster,” Sean filled in. He walked off, chuckling, to meet Charles.

  “Brian wants to know if we can come to your house right after school,” Sean said.

  Charles gave a sigh of relief. “Sure,” he said. “I was afraid Mr. Elbert might have scared you guys away.”

  “Scared us? No way,” Sean blustered, but then he thought a moment. “Mr. Elbert is kind of a scary guy, isn’t he? He sure makes it clear he doesn’t want us around.”

  Sean remembered Brian’s question. “I’m supposed to ask you how many people have keys to your house.”

  Charles looked surprised. “Mom and Dad do, and Mr. and Mrs. Elbert. And there’s a spare key hanging inside one of the kitchen cupboards.”

  “Do you have a key?”

  “No,” Charles said. “Mr. Elbert drives me to and from school and wherever else I need to go. I don’t need a key.”

  “How about the people who own the house?”

  “The realtor probably has a key.”

  “Anybody else?”

  “No. There’s a gardener, hired by the realtor, but he doesn’t come into the house, so he wouldn’t need a key.”

  “How often is the gardener there?” Sean asked.

  “Just one day a week—on Thursdays. He’ll be there today, but he just works outside, so I don’t think he’d know anything about the ghosts.”

  Sean shrugged. He’d report the information to Brian, but—like Charles—he didn’t see how any of it would help.

  However, Brian did.

  As they pedaled their bikes to the Everhart mansion, Brian said, “If the gardener’s still there when we arrive, we’ll see what he can tell us.”

  “Why?” Sean asked. “He never goes into the house.”

  “A good investigator never passes up a possible witness,” Brian said.

  “But a gardener would only be there in the daytime, not at night.”

  Brian began to pedal faster. “We’ll ask and find out.”

  The gardener, wrinkled and weather-browned, was just loading equipment into the back of his panel truck when Brian and Sean arrived at the Everhart mansion.

  Brian looked at the name printed on the side of the truck. “Mr. Victor Pekka?” he asked.

  “That’s me,” Mr. Pekka said. He pulled off a wide-brimmed hat and wiped his forehead with a large cotton handkerchief, exposing hair that was streaked with gray.

  Brian introduced himself and Sean.

  “We’re investi—” Sean began.

  Brian nudged Sean to be quiet, and then he spoke louder. “Our mom said you make
the gardens look really great. She likes the white chrysanthemums.”

  Mr. Pekka beamed with pleasure.

  “Bri, we’ve gotta ask …” Sean began.

  But Brian said, “How long have you been doing the gardening here, Mr. Pekka?”

  Mr. Pekka glanced toward the house. “Too long,” he said. “But a job’s a job, and I’ve gotta pay the bills.”

  Brian tried again. “When did you start your job here?”

  “After the guy before me quit.” Mr. Pekka’s forehead wrinkled as he thought. “About seventeen or eighteen months ago.”

  Brian moved closer and lowered his voice. “We’ve heard some stories about this old house. Have you ever noticed anything unusual about it?”

  “What do you mean ‘unusual’?”

  “Like if it’s haunted,” Sean blurted out.

  “You want to know if this place is haunted?” Mr. Pekka asked. “I can tell you that. After what happened to me, I’m sure it is.”

  “Does that mean you’ve seen the lights?” Brian asked.

  Mr. Pekka looked warily to both sides, then said, “The lights and the ghost!” He pointed toward the ocean and said, “I’ll tell you all about it. You see that low hedge down there, near the steps that lead down to the bay?”

  Brian and Sean nodded.

  “Well, one day—about a year ago—I left my clippers under that hedge. I didn’t notice until I got home that I hadn’t picked them up. But dinner was ready, so I waited until after I’d eaten to come back and get them. By this time it was dark.

  “The house was empty, so I didn’t think I’d be disturbing anyone. I didn’t need a flashlight because there was a full moon. I just walked back to where I had left the clippers and squatted down to look for them.”

  “Were the clippers still there?” Sean asked, but Brian nudged him to be quiet.

  “The clippers were there, and not hard to find. But while I was crouched down next to the hedge I saw the ghost. It was a dark, silent figure. The way he was dressed he looked something like a seaman. Black pants and sweatshirt, with a knit cap pulled over his ears. He came up the steps, from that little beach down at the bay, and crossed the yard.”