The Great Shelby Holmes and the Haunted Hound

by Elizabeth Eulberg

  Then it came rushing out. All of it. Everything I’d been feeling since we came here.

  “First, we had to move to a new city and I was okay with all of that. I’ve gotten used to moving, but it was without Dad. So, new home, new life without my father. I can’t really talk to him about you because you’re the reason we moved in the first place!”

  Mom cringed, even though I know the separation was mutual.

  “And now this! You’re dating some guy, and you don’t tell me? How am I supposed to handle one more change, and a big one? Why can’t it be like it used to be?” My voice cracked on the last bit because that was the real heart of the problem.

  Mom waited for me to continue, but I was done. I didn’t have anything more to say. I was tired. I was confused. About the case. About life. About my family. About all of it.

  “Come here,” Mom said as she patted the spot next to her.

  I dragged my feet over and plopped down. She put her arm around me.

  “Oh, honey, I know this has been such an adjustment for you. And it’s a lot, but you seemed to be adjusting so well.”

  “I liked my old life.”

  “I know you did. But don’t you like this one?”

  I thought about it. I liked New York. I liked my new friends and working with Shelby. But there was something missing, and I shouldn’t have to say it.

  “I do, but I want my dad to be part of it.”

  Mom held me closer. “He’s trying, John. You have to believe it. We’re working on it. You know we don’t get much say where we go with the army, but we want to do what’s best for you. You’ll see your dad more. I promise you that. And I want you to talk to me about it. Promise me you won’t hold it in?”

  I nodded while I fought back tears. “Okay, but we also promised that there wouldn’t be any more lies. I’ve been honest about this weird case, so it kind of stings that you won’t tell me what’s going on with . . .” I couldn’t even say it. “That I have to deduce what’s happening.” (And get Shelby’s help, but I wasn’t about to add that.)

  “I’m sorry, I truly am.” Mom sighed. “You have to remember I’m new to this whole being-single-and-dating scene. I have met someone. However, it’s still new. I didn’t tell you because I’m not even sure how I feel. I know how much you miss your father, and I didn’t think you were ready to know that I’m moving on with that part of my life.”

  There it was. The most frightening thing of all. We were all moving on from the life that we’d had.

  Mom: dating someone.

  Dad: hundreds of miles away.

  Me: still getting adjusted to this new life.

  “Are you okay?” she asked as she rubbed my cheek.

  “I guess.”

  I really did like my life here. I just miss having a mom and dad together. I know they’re both happier now, but that doesn’t mean it still doesn’t sting.

  “I promise I’ll tell you when there’s something to tell. Unless you want to know all the details—I’m more than happy to share.” Mom nudged my shoulder.

  Did I really want to know? I mean, my mom and guys? Ewww.

  “No thanks,” I replied, to which Mom laughed.

  “Yeah, I thought so. Although I should know better than to keep anything from my son, the detective.” She kissed me on my forehead.

  We both sat there for a while. Telling the truth was the best option. Did it hurt to know that Mom was moving on from Dad? Yeah, but deep down I knew this day was going to come.

  Plus, this dude might not be around that long. Mom certainly wasn’t going to introduce me to anybody who wasn’t important to her.

  So maybe I had some more time to get used to the idea.

  “Now I have a question for you about this case,” Mom said.

  I was grateful to think about something else. “Okay.”

  Mom studied me for a second. “Let me make sure I have this straight: Bryant thinks his apartment building is haunted. There have been all these strange occurrences, and you want to spend Halloween night there with Shelby?”

  Yeah, it was a totally bad idea. Why did I think she’d ever go for this?

  “Well, I don’t think want would be the word I’d use,” I admitted.

  She shook her head with a laugh. “You know I’m a person of science, John. I don’t believe in the supernatural. More importantly, I believe in you and Shelby. So you can go, but you have to text me every hour.”

  No way. She was giving me permission to do it? I didn’t know if I should be relieved or worried. Because this meant we were really going to do this.

  So yeah, worried.

  “Are you sure?” I asked. I know Shelby said never to question somebody after you got the answer you wanted, but I couldn’t believe Mom was agreeing to the overnight.

  Mom nodded. “I’ve always felt bad you couldn’t experience Halloween like everybody else as a kid. You got to dress up and go around, but you never got to enjoy your candy haul. So I want you to spend Halloween doing something fun.”

  Fun? Mom thought that spending the night in a possibly haunted apartment building was a fun plan?

  Okay, she and I also needed to discuss the meaning of the word fun.

  “Thanks!” I gave her a kiss good night and headed into my bedroom. I knew I’d need a good night’s sleep since I really doubted I’d get any tomorrow night.

  There was a text from Shelby on my phone, I’m so sorry, Watson. I should’ve listened to you.

  Ah, what? Did Michael get ahold of Shelby’s phone, because that was not a text Shelby Holmes would ever send.

  What? Is everything okay? I replied because Shelby must’ve hit her head or something.

  I know who else is involved, and we could be in real danger.

  CHAPTER

  25

  Yeah, so I got zero sleep.

  Because did Shelby fill me in on what I was right about?

  Of course she didn’t.

  “Shelby,” I prodded her as we started walking to Bryant’s after dinner with her parents. “You’ve got to fill me in. How are we in danger?”

  “Everything will be fine, Watson,” she tried to assure me for the four thousandth time that day. “Just a few more details for it to all come together.”

  “But you said danger!” I said quietly so her parents couldn’t hear, as they were a few feet behind us.

  “I’ve got it taken care of.”

  Yeah, okay, that explains absolutely nothing.

  “But, Shelby, remember that whole conversation we had last night about how it would be better for people to be truthful with each other? Maybe you should fill your partner in?”

  She snorted. “It’s more exciting this way.”

  “TO WHO?” I croaked out.

  COME. ON.

  “Okay, okay, at least tell me who your lead suspect is.”

  Shelby, annoyingly so, returned my question with a question of her own. “Who is yours?”

  I shrugged. “I guess Ms. Lyons.”

  Her having the keys and her relationship with Mr. Stapleton—who could afford to hire help—tipped her to the lead.

  “Never guess, Watson.” Shelby tsked. “Guessing is for circus con men. Look at the evidence.”

  That was the problem. We really didn’t have any save that one article that proved to be fake and that letter. That was it. Everything else was Shelby guessing: that carbon monoxide was responsible for the weird feeling. That the hound noises came from a recording. But we didn’t have proof. We didn’t know how all of that could come from an empty apartment.

  But I did have a feeling in my gut about Ms. Lyons.

  “Okay, well, we know most people trust Ms. Lyons with their keys. She would have access. And she lives across the hall so she could’ve easily gone in and out.”

  Shelby looked thoughtful. “What would be her motive?”

  “Well, Mr. Stapleton has a whole floor to himself, so perhaps she wanted to do what he did. Or it’s obvious she likes him, so
maybe, I don’t know, she wanted to have the building for just the two of them. Or it could be Kaitlin. She could have taken the keys from her mom, and her motive is clear: she wants to move to Brooklyn. This would help her get out of her lease.”

  Even I could admit I was grabbing at a lot of straws.

  Although . . . ​I didn’t know much about renting apartments, but I remember Mom saying that the rules and leases in New York City were strict, so maybe I was onto something. We’re lucky to have Mrs. Hudson as our landlady. She’s more of a mother hen than an overbearing super.

  “That would be a rather logical deduction,” Shelby admitted.

  Wait. Did that mean I was right? It was Ms. Lyons! Or Kaitlin!

  “But how—”

  Shelby cut me off. “Patience, Watson. Patience.”

  “This is so very exciting!” Shelby’s mom exclaimed as she caught up to us.

  I forced a smile since Shelby and I were currently under the guise of going over to our good friend’s apartment for a sleepover. Nothing more.

  As we walked, superheroes, princesses, and yes, ghosts and zombies surrounded us. Kids were running around comparing how full their Halloween bags were.

  Oh, to be a normal kid right now.

  The rest of the guys did decide to go out dressed up as zombies, while Bryant would spend the night with his dad in Brooklyn and I would stay at his apartment where Shelby and I would confront something . . . ​or someone. Possibly a ghost of some dead guy. (Because Shelby had still not proven that the ghost and beast didn’t exist.)

  This was such a bad idea.

  “I’m so grateful for you, John,” Mr. Holmes said as he put his arm around me, and I tried to not jump. I’d been super agitated all day since I had no clue what was going on. Oh, and we were in danger!! “You’ve done wonders for our Shelby.”

  “Yes!” Mrs. Holmes said. “And Shelby, I’m proud of you for making friends. I know how challenging that can be for you.”

  Shelby clenched her jaw, but remained uncharacteristically silent after her parents joined us. I didn’t think she trusted her ability to keep up the charade if she opened her mouth. Her parents always seemed to test her boundaries.

  Her mother looked at her father, who gave a nod. “And well,” Mrs. Holmes began. “As a treat for this very special occasion, we are allowing you to have three pieces of Halloween candy tonight.”

  “How generous,” Shelby replied with a smirk.

  I had to bite my tongue so I wouldn’t laugh. Shelby already had over a dozen mini-Twix bars . . . ​before school. I remembered, because she was too busy eating to tell me what we had gotten ourselves into.

  As we turned the corner to Bryant’s place, the block seemed even darker and quieter than normal.

  “My, so many empty buildings,” Mrs. Holmes remarked as we passed by building after building of boarded-up win­dows and doors.

  “Yes, this neighborhood is certainly changing,” Mr. Holmes replied. “I can’t necessarily say it’s for the better. Harlem used to be fairly affordable, but all these developers keep buying up blocks like this.”

  They both shook their heads.

  I looked around the block with a closer eye and noticed that the only building without a Sold sign—and with lights on—was Baskerville Estates.

  I guess that’s why Shelby wanted to do research about gentrification and real estate when we were at the library. It looked like Bryant’s block was next.

  We were rung up to Bryant’s apartment, where he and his mom were waiting for us.

  The parents did their flurry of introductions. Mr. and Mrs. Holmes were stumbling over themselves to thank Bryant’s mom for having Shelby.

  Huh. This might be the first time Shelby’s parents had one of their kids stay at someone else’s house. Michael certainly wasn’t the sleepover type. This was new to them as well.

  Although let’s be real: they were probably excited to have a night away from Shelby. Yeah, she was their daughter and all, but she was also a lot. A LOT.

  Shelby stood off to the side as the parents kept talking, a smile frozen on her face. It looked unnatural on her, but she was trying.

  I glanced at Bryant, who remained on the couch with his arms crossed.

  He appeared to be in actual physical pain as his mom kept complimenting Shelby’s violin playing.

  Those two. How hard was it for them to pretend to get along for two minutes?

  “Hey, man,” I said to Bryant in an attempt to erase the glower on his face.

  “Hey,” he replied.

  “Excited for tonight?” I said, overflowing with fake enthusiasm. I couldn’t believe nobody called me on it.

  “Yeah, sure,” he said with so much dread there was no way anybody was going to buy that we were just three friends hanging for the night.

  Bryant better not blow this. He and Shelby were going to have to play nice for the next few minutes.

  Oddly enough, pretending to be Bryant’s friend may be Shelby Holmes’s greatest challenge. I mean, her pretending to be friends with anybody was a stretch. And this was coming from her one and only real friend.

  It wasn’t going to be so easy for Bryant, either. Man, the two of them were incredibly stubborn. It was shocking they weren’t actually friends.

  “And Bryant!” Mrs. Holmes extended her arms to Bryant. “It is so lovely to meet another one of Shelby’s friends. You are such a wonderful violin player!”

  “Thank you,” Bryant said without much enthusiasm.

  The parents looked between Shelby and Bryant, who were standing about as far apart as you could in the tiny apartment.

  “Yeah, ah,” I stumbled, trying to fix this situation ASAP. “We’ve been talking about doing this for a while. So cool of you to let Shelby come over, Mr. and Mrs. Holmes.”

  I nudged Shelby. She looked at me with a glare. I motioned over at Bryant. Shelby wasn’t getting my hint.

  “Talk to him,” I mouthed.

  Shelby grimaced as she approached Bryant. She sighed heavily.

  Yep, it was going real, real well.

  “What’s up, Bryant?” Shelby then hit Bryant on the shoulder. By the way Bryant winced, I had to presume it was a little harder than a normal tap a buddy does. “I am, like, so excited to hang tonight.”

  Oh no. So here’s the problem: Shelby knew how to be a different person, but she forgot that she was still supposed to be herself. Shelby Holmes didn’t say “What’s up” or “like.” She spoke with purpose. And if I was to be honest, as if she were a four-hundred-year-old college professor with no sense of humor.

  “Ah, yeah.” Bryant rubbed his shoulder. “Me too.”

  “Splendid!” Shelby clapped her hands. “Well, buddy, shall we get to it!” She then turned to her parents.

  “Oh! Yes! We should be going,” Mrs. Holmes replied with the same clap. The difference was hers was genuine. “Claire and John, I hope you both can join us for dinner some night. It would be delightful to get to know Shelby’s friends better.”

  Bryant’s mouth dropped open, while his mother gra­ciously accepted. She seemed to genuinely like the Holmeses. Most people did. It was their children that were a little . . . ​ ah, challenging.

  With all the risks of this case, nobody could foresee whether Bryant’s mom and Shelby’s parents would become friends. If that happened, it would be a miracle if Bryant or Shelby could survive.

  “Shelby!” Her mom enveloped her in a giant hug with her father joining them. “We are going to miss you so much. Please call if you need anything or want to come home.”

  “We know this is a big step for you,” her father said.

  Oh wow. WOW. I’d been thinking about Shelby’s parents, but I didn’t realize that this was Shelby’s first night away from them. Maybe there was a time her parents went somewhere and she had a babysitter (that poor, poor babysitter), but this was new ground for her, too.

  Shelby didn’t seem to be that bothered by it as she wiggled out of her parents’
embrace. “I do not foresee a scenario where communications would be required.”

  Ah, there’s the Shelby we all know.

  Shelby’s parents gave another round of thanks before they left.

  The room was quiet for a few beats before Shelby turned to Bryant and his mom. “My gratitude for having to endure that charade. I must ask that you wait a few more minutes before you depart, as I’m sure my parents are still outside. They have separation anxiety.”

  “Whatever you need,” Bryant’s mom said as she went into the kitchen.

  Bryant looked down at the floor. “So, you know, thanks for this.”

  “You can thank us when the case is solved,” Shelby replied curtly.

  I glared at Shelby. Bryant was trying. Sort of.

  “Yeah, so,” Bryant started as his foot shook. “I just want you guys to be careful. I don’t want anything to happen to you.”

  “We’ll be careful, man,” I assured him.

  “Yes, let’s not get mushy. Watson and I will be fine,” Shelby replied before cautiously approaching the window. She stepped to the side as she pulled back the blinds. “As I suspected, my parents are still out there.”

  “Are you sure you’re going to be okay?” Bryant’s mom asked.

  “Yeah, we’ve got a plan and everything,” I stated, even though Shelby had yet to fully fill me in.

  “And more importantly, we’ll be able to wrap up this case,” Shelby added.

  Ah, that was more important than our safety?

  This wasn’t going to end well. I had a feeling.

  “My parents are finally departing. At their average walking rate, they should be around the corner and on Lenox in fifty-five seconds.” Shelby held up her watch.

  Average walking rate? Why did that surprise me?

  “Be careful,” Bryant’s mom said with a worried look on her face. “And if at any point you don’t feel safe, please leave or call the police.”

  Shelby grimaced. “As I’ve stated, we’ll be fine. You have my assurances. As Watson can attest, my word is the best guarantee you can be given.”

  Egotistical? Yeah.

  True? Yep.

  “Thanks for everything,” Bryant said as he ran his hands through his shaggy hair. “I, um, appreciate it. But my mom’s right—get out if you’re in danger.”