It was easier all around to let them think everything was fine. Which it was, really, she told herself. Except for the matter of poor Michael having an allergy attack every time the ghost showed up.
But before anything else, she needed to call Dub. She let him grumble a little about being awakened so early on the first morning of vacation. Then she hit him with the news. She told him how she had figured it out, taking him step by step through her reasoning process.
“Wow!” he said, immediately sounding fully awake. “Weird. But it makes sense, I guess.” He added thoughtfully, “As much sense as anything else about ghosts.”
“I thought my other two ghosts were frustrating,” Allie said ruefully. “I didn’t realize until now how helpful it was that they could speak.”
“Don’t worry, we’ll figure it out,” said Dub. “But first things first. You have to walk Hoover. And we said we were going to L.J.’s today to get that over with. I was thinking we could kill two birds with one stone. We could walk to L.J.’s with Hoover on the leash. Then we’ll have the rest of the day to try to crack the case.”
Allie loved when Dub used expressions such as “crack the case.” It made what they were doing sound so official. Even better was the confidence with which he said they would figure it out.
“Great idea,” she said. “Except isn’t it kind of far to walk?”
“Not really,” said Dub. “It’s probably only a mile and a half, maybe two miles each way.”
“We can take some food and drinks in our backpacks,” said Allie, warming to the idea. “And some water for Hoover.”
“It’ll be good exercise for her. Part of her healthy new lifestyle. Don’t forget to pack lots of low-cal treats,” Dub added slyly.
“When will you be here?” Allie asked.
“Half an hour.”
“Perfect.”
Allie went downstairs and joined her mother and Michael at the kitchen table.
“Hi, Mom.”
“Morning, sweetie.”
“Did Mike tell you he got into bed with me last night?”
“Yes. He said he had a bad dream, but he won’t tell me what it was about. He says it’s a secret.”
Allie looked at Michael and he gave her a conspiratorial smile. She didn’t want to start talking about the dream. Michael loved the idea of secrets, but he wasn’t very good at keeping them. He’d already said more than Allie would have liked. Quickly, she held her finger to her lips, then turned back to her mother.
“Well, he was really stuffed up again. Don’t you think he should start taking his allergy medicine? I’ll be seeing Hoover a couple times every day for the next week or so, and I’ll probably have dog cooties or whatever you call them all over me.”
Mrs. Nichols looked at Michael, who did appear miserable. “You know, I think you’re right, Allie.”
She got up from the table and went to the phone. Allie heard her leaving a message on Dr. Waheed’s answering machine, saying that she was starting Michael on the pills the doctor had prescribed.
Good, Allie thought. Even if the effect of the dream dog wore off later in the day, there was no telling when its ghost might appear to her or to Michael again. This way, Michael would be protected, at least from sniffles and red eyes.
“Michael and your dad are going fishing today,” Mrs. Nichols said, returning to the table. “Do you want to go with them? I’m sure they’d wait until you got back from Mr. Henry’s house.”
“Well, I would, but Dub and I talked about taking Hoover for kind of a major walk. The vet told Mr. Henry she needs to lose weight, so we thought it would help. We’re going to pack a lunch and everything. Is that okay?”
“Where are you going?” her mother asked.
“Over to this kid L.J.’s house. He showed up at school for the last two days, and Mr. Henry asked us if we’d be nice to him this summer ’cause he didn’t have time to make any friends.”
“That was thoughtful of Mr. Henry,” said Mrs. Nichols. “And you and Dub, too.”
“Well, Dub and I don’t really want to do it,” Allie confessed.
Her mother looked surprised. “Why not?”
“We didn’t like L.J. too much.”
“Really?” Mrs. Nichols asked. “Why is that?”
“We think there’s something creepy about him,” Allie said.
Her mother looked at her and scolded gently, “Allie, you’re not letting your imagination run away with you again, are you? After all, you’ve only seen the boy at school—what?—twice? How could you know what he’s like?”
“That’s what Mr. Henry said,” Allie admitted with a sigh. She wanted to add, But sometimes even a cool teacher like Mr. Henry can be kind of clueless. She didn’t, though. And she certainly didn’t want her mother to get started on her “runaway imagination” again. Instead she said, “We promised Mr. Henry we’d give him a chance, so that’s what we’re doing.”
“Well, I think that’s very nice.”
Easy for you to say, Allie thought. You’ve never met L.J.
Seven
Soon Allie and Dub were letting themselves in through the door of Mr. Henry’s kitchen. “Hoover?” Allie called. “We’re here, girl. Ready for food and a walk?”
When the dog’s bowl was empty, Allie took the leash from its place in the closet. Hoover began prancing around the room with excitement, her tail wagging like a furry, golden flag.
“I’d say she’s ready,” declared Dub.
“Let’s go.”
They walked slowly, letting Hoover stop to sniff wherever she pleased. Observing this behavior, Allie said, “Maybe if we watch Hoover carefully, we’ll learn something that will help. Look at her nose go. She can probably tell which dogs already passed by that signpost this morning and when.”
“You said you and Michael were smelling something disgusting, right?”
Allie wrinkled her nose. “Yeah, it was gross.”
Watching Hoover happily slurping water from a muddy puddle, Dub said, “Gross to you. To a dog it might be delectable.”
“True,” Allie said. “But maybe trying to think like a dog isn’t such a great idea. Probably we should try to imagine the kind of thing that might happen to a dog to make it into a restless ghost.”
Dub looked thoughtful. “Well, there’s the obvious car accident. A hit-and-run driver.”
“And remember that story that was going around a while ago about some people who got mad at their neighbors’ dog for barking, so they poisoned it?”
“Yeah,” said Dub. “And did you know that some people actually raise dogs for fighting? They make bets on which dog will win, and sometimes one dog kills the other one.”
Allie shuddered. “That is totally sick. Actually, this whole conversation is a real bummer.”
“You started it.” They walked in silence for a while before Dub added, “The only other thing I can think of is that dogs sometimes get used for scientific experiments.”
“Gee, there’s another cheerful thought,” Allie said bleakly. “But, cheerful or not, we have to get used to thinking about this stuff. Because one thing we’ve learned is that ghosts are unhappy for a reason.”
Soon they were approaching the old bean packing plant. It gave Allie the willies. The gray paint was peeling badly, giving the walls what she thought of as a scabby, unhealthy appearance. Most of the windows had been broken and lay in sharp, glittering shards on the ground. A sheet of metal roofing had torn loose and was flapping erratically in the wind with a hollow clang. The abandoned hulk of a building looked cold in contrast to the sunny glare of the empty parking lot, and an odd odor of decay drifted from it.
Allie walked faster, feeling silly even as she did, and grateful for the company of Dub and Hoover. There were times when, like her parents, she wished her imagination weren’t quite so vivid.
“Maybe he won’t be home,” she said, trying to shake the feeling the old plant had given her.
Naturally, Dub knew she was
talking about L.J. “I hope he is,” he said. “Otherwise, this whole trip is a waste. We’ll just have to come back. Or explain to Mr. Henry why we didn’t.”
“Then we’d better decide what we’re going to say when we get there.” Allie sighed. “We can’t tell him Mr. Henry wanted us to make friends with the poor little new kid. I can just hear him: ‘I told you I don’t need no baby-sitter!’”
They continued walking.
“I know,” said Allie. “We can say we noticed he seemed to like Hoover, and since we were out walking Hoover, anyway, we decided to stop over.” Dub didn’t answer right away and Allie added, “Although I’m not exactly sure he liked Hoover. It was just that she was the only thing he showed any interest in at all.”
“And then we hope he doesn’t ask how we found out where he lives,” said Dub.
“It’s going to be awful however we do it,” said Allie. She could feel Dub looking at her closely. “What?” she asked.
“You’re not usually so pessimistic,” he answered.
Allie shrugged. She wasn’t sure why she was letting L.J. bother her so much.
“Relax,” Dub said cheerfully. “What can happen? There are three of us and one of him. If he tries anything, Hoover’ll lick him, right, girl?”
Hoover grinned a doggy grin, clearly happy to be the focus of their attention, and Allie laughed. “Yeah, Hoover’ll go right up and give him a big kiss.”
Allie did relax a little, at least until they came to the turn onto Dundee Road. Past a stand of scrubby bushes and a swampy area filled with cattails sat a house, all by itself except for a lopsided barn in the field behind it. A dilapidated mailbox was fixed to a post near the road. The name on it was Keegan, not Cutler, but the number matched the one Mr. Henry had given them.
“This must be it,” Allie said, squinting at the house. “I guess they haven’t had time to change the name.”
The sun was in her eyes, making it difficult to get a good look at the house, but she could see that it wasn’t in any better shape than the mailbox. The yard was overgrown and filled with an odd assortment of objects: a stained sink, a rusty wheelbarrow, some cinder blocks, a pink bicycle with tattered streamers hanging from the handles, and a plastic Santa Claus lying on his side near a plastic reindeer. It looked as if someone had used the reindeer for target practice.
The place made Allie very uncomfortable. She turned to Dub, who was looking around curiously. “Creepy, huh?” she said. “Plus, I’m starting to get ghost vibes.”
“Oh, great,” Dub replied. “What do you think we should do?”
“Go up and knock on the door, I guess.”
They climbed up the stairs onto the porch, which was just as cluttered as the yard. There was a stained mattress with stuffing coming out and another with the springs poking through, along with cardboard boxes filled with old magazines, bottles, and cans.
Allie and Dub approached the door, and Allie peered through a rip in the screen to a room that held a couch and a television and not much else. No sign of L.J. She knocked, and she and Dub listened for an answering voice or the sound of footsteps. Hoover began pacing nervously, tugging at the leash and whining softly.
“Shh, Hoovey,” whispered Allie. “We’ll be going in a minute.” She didn’t know why she was whispering, exactly, but she kept it up as she said to Dub, “Looks like nobody’s here.”
Just then a loud screech came from somewhere behind the house, causing Dub and Allie to jump and Hoover to bark in alarm. It took Allie a moment to recognize the sound of a power saw. She and Dub looked at each other and headed in that direction.
When they rounded the back corner of the house, they saw L.J. bent over a piece of plywood held up by two sawhorses. He was carefully making a cut along one edge. Allie had helped her dad on many woodworking projects, and she knew how hard it was to keep a piece of wood from sliding during a long cut if there wasn’t a second pair of hands to hold it. Out of habit, she stepped forward to hold the plywood steady.
L.J., immersed in his work and unable to hear over the noise of the saw, jerked upright in surprise. There was a horrible screeching noise as the saw twisted, caught in the wood, and bucked, before L.J. snatched his hand away from the trigger and the saw blade stopped.
For a moment there was quiet. Then L.J. let loose a string of swear words that stunned Allie into speechlessness. Dub, too, seemed struck dumb, and even Hoover stood frozen. They all looked at L.J., who was glaring back, red-faced and breathing hard.
“Sorry,” Allie ventured at last. “I was only”—she winced as the full force of L.J.’s stare fell on her—“trying to help.”
L.J.’s mouth twisted in a scornful grimace. “You again. Little Miss Fix-it from school. And her boyfriend, looks like.”
“Let’s go, Dub,” Allie said tightly.
“No, you just hold on a second. What are you doing here, anyway?”
“Nothing,” said Allie. “We’re going.”
“I thought I told you to leave me alone.”
“Don’t worry, we will,” Allie answered angrily. “Come on, Dub.”
They were about to go when a man came out of the barn and began striding across the field toward them. As he approached, a gust of wind came from behind him and blew his hat off his head and onto the ground. He ignored it and kept coming. Allie could see his face now, and the anger on it frightened her. It was the same man who had pushed L.J. into the classroom at school.
Hoover sniffed the breeze and, to Allie’s dismay, let out a long, mournful howl. It was a sound Allie never had heard before from the normally happy dog.
Mr. Cutler strode up to L.J. and snapped, “Shut that dog up!”
Hoover began growling, and Allie knelt beside her to try to quiet her. It was almost as if Hoover sensed danger in the situation and knew she should stop, but couldn’t. She sat still, but continued making a low growl deep in her throat.
Mr. Cutler had turned back to L.J., and pointed his thumb toward Allie and Dub. “Who are they?” Without waiting for an answer, he said, “What have I told you about people coming here?”
“I didn’t ask them,” L.J. said sullenly. “They just showed up.”
“Look at the mess you made of that cut,” Mr. Cutler said, curling his lip in disgust and pointing to the piece of plywood. A gouge marred the cut where the saw had bucked.
“I startled him,” Allie tried to explain. “That’s why—”
She felt Dub’s elbow poke sharply into her side, signaling her to be quiet.
L.J. stood scowling at the ground, the way he had in school when his father had pushed him.
“How many times have I told you to use these?” the man asked, reaching for a couple of C-shaped clamps and throwing them at L.J.’s feet.
L.J. didn’t respond and his father repeated, “I said how many times?”
“Plenty of times,” L.J. said at last. He sounded tired.
“That’s right,” said Mr. Cutler. “Plenty of times. But you think you’re so smart you don’t need to listen to your father, don’t you?”
Although moments before, Allie had been fed up with L.J. herself, she felt a fierce sympathy for him now, seeing him with his father. His father! It was difficult for Allie to comprehend. This man was so different from her own funny, gentle dad.
“Don’t you?” Mr. Cutler insisted.
L.J. didn’t answer. It was a question that didn’t have any safe answer, and Allie was glad L.J. didn’t try to give one. In the silence that followed, a dog began to bark. Others joined in, forming a chorus. The sound came from the barn, where L.J.’s father had been. Immediately, Hoover barked back.
The barking seemed to enrage Mr. Cutler. He kicked the leg of the sawhorse, and the plywood fell to the ground. “It’s always the same,” he said furiously, shaking his head at L.J. “You’re just like your mother. You never listen.”
He started walking toward a gray pickup truck that was parked between the house and the barn. He opened the door, but
before he got in, he turned to look back at Allie and Dub. “We don’t need you two coming around here. We got work to do. He says he didn’t ask you, so why don’t you get lost?”
Allie and Dub scrambled to leave, practically tripping over each other and Hoover in their hurry. Allie forced herself to look back just before she rounded the corner of the house. When she did, her eyes locked for a brief moment with L.J.’s. In their darkness, she thought she glimpsed something that might have been sorrow or regret.
Or maybe, she told herself as she ran across the yard, she had only imagined it.
Eight
Allie and Dub ran down the gravel edge of Dundee Road in silence. When they turned onto the main road, Mr. Cutler drove by, heading in the same direction, back toward town. As he passed, he gazed at them from the open window, his face an expressionless mask.
Only when he was out of sight did Allie speak. “That was so awful, Dub.” Her voice came out low, and a little shaky.
Dub, looking troubled, nodded in agreement.
Allie made an effort to slow the beating of her heart and calm herself. She felt almost dizzy from everything that had just happened. Meanwhile, Hoover continued to tug at the leash, looking back the way they had come and whimpering.
“Let’s sit down for a minute, okay?” Allie suggested.
They walked about twenty feet away from the road into an overgrown field and sat down under a large maple tree. Allie shrugged off her backpack and took out the little plastic bowl and the bottle of water she’d brought for Hoover, along with the plastic bag filled with some of the dog snacks she and Dub had made.
She poured some water into the bowl, placed it under Hoover’s nose, and held out one of the biscuits. Hoover ignored both the water and the treat, pacing restlessly and continuing to whine unhappily.
“I’ve never seen her refuse food before,” Dub said.
“Me neither,” said Allie. She reached into her backpack again and took out a package of cheese. “Look, Hoover!” she cajoled, waving a slice under the dog’s nose. “People food.”
The Ghost of Cutler Creek Page 4
