The Secret Files of Fairday Morrow

by Jessica Haight

  “Well, I think we should start by setting up a clean area and then poke around to see what more we can uncover. We definitely have to find the lock that fits that key….” Lizzy’s voice trailed off as she glanced to the left and noticed the barricaded door that led to the balcony. “What on earth is that?” she asked.

  “Ah! Yes, you know my dad. That door leads out to an old balcony. Dad couldn’t find the key to lock it, so he put up the yellow police tape to emphasize that he doesn’t want us to go out there.” Fairday smiled, adding, “He may have gone a little overboard.” She gestured to the crisscross pattern that covered the entire door.

  “Jeez, he must have used the whole roll of tape.” Lizzy laughed, flipping her blond curls. “Well, I guess that’s one area we don’t need to worry about. Though…” She hesitated, her blue eyes glinting mischievously. “We should probably check to see if the brass key fits the lock on this door.” She looked at Fairday, nodding. “Just to rule it out.”

  Fairday thought about it for a moment. She hated to disobey her father, but Lizzy was right. In order to conduct this investigation properly, they would have to check everything. And besides, they didn’t have to walk out onto the balcony. “I agree,” Fairday answered, and bent down to unzip her DMS pack. She reached in and fumbled around for the key. “All right, here we go.” Walking over to the door, she pulled back the caution tape, looked down the staircase to make sure her dad wasn’t coming, then stuck the key into the lock. She turned it to the right and the lock clicked. “Wow, that was easy!” Fairday said in amazement, then turned it back to unlock it. “I can’t believe it fits.” She slowly swung open the door and revealed the balcony to Lizzy.

  The strong, cool autumn air smacked them both in the face. They remained behind the threshold of the door, gripping the sides as they leaned over and watched the balcony sway dangerously. The wind suddenly began to rise, causing the boards to creak and groan as they shifted. “Look at that!” Lizzy shouted.

  Fairday followed Lizzy’s pointing finger and saw what had caught her friend’s attention. The weeping willow was glowing. Twinkling bluish leaves were springing up one after the other all along the barren branches. The whole tree seemed to be lifting its limbs and extending them toward the balcony. The rushing wind whipped their hair, making the girls look like they were about to take flight. It sounded as if a tornado were touching down right in front of them.

  “SHUT THE DOOR!” Lizzy screamed above the howling gale. They both took a step back and Fairday turned around to grab hold of the doorknob, then froze.

  “Lizzy! Look,” she said in a forceful whisper. Lizzy turned, and her jaw dropped. Time stopped as the two stared into the mirror. There stood a lady. She beckoned them from behind the glass, her green eyes flashing, her fiery red hair static with electricity. Fairday felt something wrap around her ankle and tore her gaze from the reflection to look down. A glowing willow branch had ensnared her leg and was tightening its grip. “AH!” she yelled, grabbing the door and slamming it as hard as she could, snapping the branch in two. Fairday bent down and yanked it off her leg. Almost instantaneously, she looked back at the mirror and saw the woman was gone.

  “WHAT WAS THAT?” Lizzy was still yelling but clearly trying to get ahold of herself. She leaned against the wall, panting in terror.

  “I don’t know! This is nuts!” Fairday said. Chewing on her thumbnail, she continued. “Who is that lady, and how did the tree come alive? It tried to grab me!” She reached down and snatched the broken branch from the floor, then snapped it in half. It was brittle and dried, with no leaves…a dead stick. Hearts racing, the girls looked at each other, barely breathing as they listened to make sure the commotion hadn’t alerted Mr. and Mrs. Morrow to their rule-breaking. Silence met them, and then the sudden ringing of a phone broke the spell.

  “This is serious. That lady, whoever she is, does not look friendly,” Lizzy said, walking to the mirror and picking up the sheet. “I think it’s best to cover this. I mean, maybe you’re right, and she can’t come through if it’s blocked.” She threw the sheet into the air. It fanned out and floated down over the ornate mirror, once again concealing its glass. “Let’s follow through with our plan to search the secret room and see if we can find any more clues that might lead us in the right direction. We need to know what we’re dealing with. You know my motto—‘Knowledge is power!’ ” Lizzy proclaimed, putting on a brave face.

  “Yeah, that’s the best thing to do,” Fairday replied, feeling shaken. She snatched up her DMS pack; took a deep, calming breath; and opened the door across the hall to the third-floor room.

  The two girls cleared out a spot and set up their station. Taking the picture frame out of her DMS pack, Fairday flinched as she stared into the green eyes of the red-haired lady. The face they had just seen in the mirror was terrifying, not at all like this pretty woman. Did those eyes just move? She shifted her gaze away for just a second, then snapped her stare back. Nothing was different. Maybe it was just her imagination going berserk. This week had not been easy on her nerves.

  Once everything was in place, they began to move about the room. Fairday nudged Lizzy and pointed to the bagpipe stuffed in the corner. Lizzy walked toward it, and the spiders, as if on cue, all scuttled away, causing her to step back. Fairday heard a murmur that sounded something like yuck, followed by a disgusted snort. Lizzy pressed on, bending down to get a better look at the mouthpiece with the magnifying glass. She examined the moldy, cracked reed. “This thing is revolting,” she said.

  “That’s an excellent word for it,” Fairday commented over her shoulder as she turned and walked over to the wardrobe. Running her fingers along the scratched wood, she jiggled the front door handles, which were made of iron and shaped like two claws clasped together. It was locked, though there seemed to be no lock in sight. She moved to the right side, pushing it out from the wall a few inches, and peeked around the back.

  “Whoa! Lizzy, come and look at this!” Fairday shouted.

  “What?” Lizzy disregarded the sticky bagpipe and hastened over to where she stood.

  Fairday moved to the side and motioned to the back of the wardrobe. “Back here—take a look.”

  Lizzy moved into her spot and leaned in to see what had caught her friend’s eye. “There’s writing on this!” she said. “I can’t read it, though. I need the flashlight.”

  Fairday raced over to her DMS pack and pulled out the flashlight. Then she and Lizzy pushed the clunky piece of furniture out as far as they could. “What do you think that means?” Fairday asked as she illuminated the words etched into the center of the back panel. They were written in the same fancy letters as the initials RB on the hairbrush. They read:

  KNOCK THRICE AND THREE TO OPEN THE DOOR.

  KNOCK THRICE AND FOUR TO LOCK IT ONCE MORE.

  “They’re instructions,” Lizzy said as both girls slid out from behind the wardrobe. “Knock three times and then three more to open the door, and then three times plus four to lock it again.” Fairday knew she was right, remembering that thrice meant something in threes. So that explains why there’s no actual lock on it, she thought.

  Lizzy stood in front of the wardrobe, poised to knock, but then stopped. “Maybe you should write that down so we don’t forget how to lock the door.” She shot Fairday a furtive glance, adding, “I mean, just in case something crazy happens.”

  Fairday had her notebook and pen in hand before Lizzy even finished her thought. “Got it.” She flipped the notebook closed and shoved it into her back pocket.

  Lizzy knocked on the door: one, two, three. She paused, and then one, two, three, again. The clawlike handles unclenched, releasing their grip on each other. Both girls held their breath as Lizzy swung open the door to reveal its hidden contents, which were instantly disappointing.

  “Two wire hangers! That’s it?” Lizzy said, throwing her hands up in disbelief. The hangers rocked back and forth on a bar that ran along the inside.

  “Ah
, well.” Fairday shrugged. “It’s pretty cool how it opens and locks. I wonder how that works.” She turned to look at Lizzy. “What do you think?”

  “I think it’s probably just a freaky piece of furniture,” Lizzy answered, sounding somewhat disenchanted. She held the doors shut with one hand, paused for effect, and then, with the other, knocked three times plus four. The claw fingers once again closed tightly onto one another, mysteriously locking up the wardrobe. Lizzy turned to face Fairday as she added, “You’re right, though, that is pretty cool. Plus, we can use it to store some of our secret DMS stuff. Keep anything important away from Margo’s sticky fingers and Auntie Em’s drool.” She grinned and then headed toward a stack of yellowing newspapers toppling over in a corner of the room.

  Fairday stared at the extravagant wardrobe with its ancient-looking wood and iron claws. She wanted to try the door, too, even though she knew there was nothing in it. She knocked three times and then three more, and the claws unclasped. Peering inside, Fairday banged on the back, then ran her hands along the inside, shining the flashlight all around the interior. A thin red string sticking out of a back corner caught her eye. Reaching up, she pinched it between her fingers and pulled. A panel swung open and she ducked just in time to avoid being hit by a falling object. It was a book.

  Fairday picked it up and flipped through the pages. “Lizzy, come quick. You won’t believe it. I think I found a diary!”

  “Does it say whose it is?” Lizzy asked, hurrying over to Fairday’s side.

  Fairday’s eyes quickly scanned to the bottom of the page. “Well, this entry is signed Ruby. Maybe that’s the R in the initials RB from the brush…Ruby Begonia?”

  Fairday and Lizzy stared at the diary. The worn cover looked as though it were bruised, and its yellowing pages, with sections missing, gave them the impression that it was very old.

  As Fairday handed it to Lizzy, a dried red rose petal fell from between the pages. It crumbled a bit as it landed on the floor. Lizzy carefully picked up the delicate flower with the tweezers.

  “Oh my goodness! That looks just like the ones I found the day Margo went into the mirror!” Fairday said. “I wonder where they’re coming from.”

  “Jot it down in your notebook,” Lizzy replied, excitement edging into her voice as she put the petal aside so they could bag and label it.

  Diary found in secret panel of wardrobe—dried rose petal inside.

  Fairday considered the book in her hand for a moment. “It feels weird to be looking through someone else’s diary,” she worried.

  “I know, but we definitely should. I mean, who knows what secrets are written in there.”

  “I guess. But I wouldn’t want strangers reading my diary, even if I wasn’t around to know about it,” Fairday added.

  “Me neither,” Lizzy replied. “Unless I was missing, and it gave a couple of clever detectives a clue to where I was.” She smiled mischievously. “It’s fine, Fairday. Really!”

  Fairday shrugged. “You’re right. Let’s see what it has to say!”

  Sitting on the floor, the girls each held part of the diary as they began deciphering the small handwriting.

  October 28, 1949

  My Dearest Diary—

  You are my favorite birthday present this year! My father gave you to me and said I might want to start recording my adventures now that I’m eleven years old. Oh! I do hope to have many adventures. I want to see the world!

  Lizzy paused, looking up incredulously at Fairday. “I don’t believe it! She was our age when she wrote this!”

  “I know!” Fairday said, squinting at the page.

  I live in a big house in Ashpot, Connecticut, with my father. My mother died the day I was born, so I never knew her. I wish I remembered her. I have a picture, and she was very pretty. She had deep brown eyes and long brown hair. I don’t look like her at all. I have bright red hair and green eyes. My father says I look like his mother, but I don’t think so. I’m not sure who I’m like. I feel different from everyone around here.

  I don’t want to bore you by being gloomy, so I’ll write more later, but I hope you know how delighted I am to have someone to tell my secrets to! ~Ruby

  Flipping through the early entries, they noticed most of them were short, with simple facts about Ruby and her daily life. She did seem lonely, Fairday thought. Coming to a long entry, they stopped to read.

  April 5, 1950

  Diary Dearest—

  I still can’t believe what happened today. Maybe writing it down will help me figure things out. I was playing the bagpipes for my father outside his study, when suddenly there was a knock at the front door. I stopped to watch as our maid answered. Standing in the entrance was an old, scruffy woman. I thought for sure Father would turn her away, but she was welcomed in, as if she were an expected guest!

  I ran down the stairs, hiding in my best spying spot under the grand staircase. I crept out just after Father walked into the sitting room and shut the door. Opening it a crack, I heard him shouting about my mother’s death. He mentioned something about blueprints, yelling that a promise had not been delivered. I was scared! I’ve never heard my father so infuriated. His voice was shaking as he swore he’d never pay the woman, that he never wanted to see her ugly face haunting his doorstep again. I watched as the woman sat quietly while he raged on and on. Then he threw something small and shiny that landed at her feet.

  It was a brass key. The lady began to laugh and told him she would have her revenge if he didn’t pay. I raced into the kitchen just as my father came out and stormed up the stairs. I was frightened, but I had to know more about this visitor. What had she done to make my father so angry? Why had he thrown a key at her? I looked back into the room and the woman, whom I heard him call Eldrich, was still sitting on the sofa with a sinister smile. Only now, it was directed at me. She lifted up the hem of her skirt, and on her feet were the most dazzling sneakers I have ever seen! They had diamonds and rubies all over them! I was mesmerized by their brilliance and struggled to look away. Our eyes met, and she winked at me. The maid then noticed I was in the doorway and hurried to send me upstairs. I obeyed, but as I reached the top step, I turned to get one last look at the woman. She spun around, raising her hands above her head, and recited a riddle. I couldn’t quite hear, but it sounded like she said something about the blueprints. Then, laughing hysterically, she turned and disappeared from view.

  Later, when I went back to the sitting room, the brass key was still lying on the floor, and I took it. The only thing I know about it is that Father always said he wore it to remind himself of his failings. What that means, I don’t know. I rubbed it with my fingers, trying to read its energy. Why did my father think he had failed? And what did the key have to do with my mother? ~Ruby

  Fairday and Lizzy looked at each other. “So the shoes belong to the gypsy-looking woman? Is that who we saw in the mirror? Or could it be Ruby?” Fairday asked, her nerves jumping at the thought.

  “Wow! I can’t believe we found out about the sneaker. I’m not sure who has the other one in the mirror. Maybe it is the gypsy,” Lizzy said.

  “Could be,” Fairday replied, her heart pounding in her chest. “But now we do know that Ruby played the bagpipes. I wonder if she ever figured out what the key was for. Let’s see what else we can piece together.” Focusing on the next entry, they read:

  June 21, 1950

  Dearest Diary,

  You’ll never believe what I found tonight! I was searching my father’s room looking for more clues about my mother, when I came across an old trunk. It was locked, but there was a hole in the side, and I was able to get my fingers through. I pulled out a silver canister that contained a set of blueprints. I think these were what my father was talking to Eldrich about! There are drawings of every room in this house with odd rhymes all around the pages. And listen to this, when I tried one, it worked! I moved a wall! It’s a little scary, but I’m excited to see what else these can do. Finally I get to ha
ve a real adventure! Just like my father when he was traveling the world, collecting treasures. Who knows what magic I’ll discover. I can’t wait to try more of them out. But for now the canister is tucked away so my father won’t find out I have it. ~Ruby

  Fairday remembered the walls that seemed to move. Had that been her imagination or did she accidentally say a rhyme from the blueprints? “Um, Lizzy, I didn’t mention this because I wasn’t sure if anything had even happened, but when I was exploring the third-floor room one day, I thought I saw the wall move.”

  “Do you know what you said?”

  “Not exactly. It could have been anything.” Fairday shivered with the knowledge that her words could hold more power than she ever expected.

  “Well, maybe if you remember, we can try it out,” Lizzy said, pointing to the next entry.

  September 19, 1950

  Dearest Diary,

  Everything is ruined! Tonight my father found out I had the blueprints. He was very angry and took them away. Thank goodness I learned the magic of this house and I no longer need them. I know if he ever sees me with them again I’ll be grounded until I’m an old woman. I don’t plan to look for them. ~Ruby

  “So that’s it? The entries just stop?” Lizzy said with a hint of frustration. “I wonder why the pages at the end are missing.”

  “I don’t know,” Fairday said as she wrote down the clues from Ruby’s diary in her notebook. “But I’m sure glad we found this, and that at least most of the pages are here.”