“These are our surprise,” said Gillian. “Cillia helped us bake them last night.” She pulled up the edge of the foil covering and showed a plate heaped high with sunburst cookies. “We used food coloring to make them yellow. I wanted to decorate them with icing, but we didn’t have time.”
“They look delicious,” said Stacey. “Why don’t you go set the tray on the picnic table.”
“Is this going to be all little kids again?” Tom asked. So far, the Cateses, Karen, Andrew, and David Michael were the only kids who’d arrived.
“I promise there will be boys your age here too,” said Stacey.
“Am I late?” Logan asked, coasting up on his bicycle.
“You’re just in time to help set up an obstacle course!” Mary Anne yelled from the garage.
“Come on and help me, Tom,” said Logan. “Don’t leave me alone with all these girls.”
Tom adjusted his sunglasses and followed Logan up the drive.
Karen and Gillian were standing in the grass, talking, Gillian talking as much as Karen.
Mal appeared, looking like a mother duck with her ducklings — a line of brothers and sisters — following her.
“What should we do?” asked Mal.
“Go ask Kristy,” said Stacey with a grin. “She’s the one with a plan.”
Kristy was dragging softball equipment out of the garage. “I thought we might practice a little,” she said.
“We didn’t bring our gloves!” said Margo.
“That’s okay. You can use one of these, or you can hit,” said Kristy.
Kids started arriving from every direction, all wearing sunglasses.
Claudia brought her face paints and Abby brought a soccer ball. Jessi wore a T-shirt with a huge, shiny gold sun on the front.
Everyone milled around, looking often at the sun as if afraid it might disappear. “Don’t you think we should start?” I asked Kristy.
“Ladies and gentlemen!” Kristy yelled. “Welcome to the first and hopefully only BSC Sunny Day Festival.”
Everyone cheered and clapped.
“Line up for a parade!” she said. “Hit it, Mary Anne!”
I punched a button on the tape player and a march blared out.
A scraggly line formed as the younger kids marched to the music. Pretty soon, several smaller parades separated from the big line and marched in circles all their own.
“I can’t wait to build a sandcastle,” said Claudia. “Want to help?”
“I think I’ll draw something with the chalk on the driveway,” Stacey said.
Karen and Gillian were working on a sandcastle in Emily Michelle’s sandbox. Tom and Byron were tossing a baseball back and forth. Stacey overheard Byron tell Tom that he’d have to try out for his team. The Cates kids finally seemed to be finding their place in Stoneybrook.
Charlotte joined Stacey on the driveway, then Margo and Vanessa wandered over to them.
“I made up a poem in honor of the festival,” said Vanessa. “I’m going to copy my poem here.” She chose a piece of yellow chalk and printed in big letters:
Sun is fun,
Rain is a pain.
The best thing about a sunny day
Is going out-of-doors to play.
Rainy days would be total duds,
Except for messy, gooey mud.
“Even when the rain goes away, it leaves a lot of mud behind,” said David Michael after he’d read the poem.
Stacey sat back on her heels and looked over Kristy’s yard. She saw a place where the grass was awfully thin. It was a perfect spot in which to make mud pies. Her fingers itched to dig down in the dark, cool dirt.
“Charlotte, let’s practice our cheerleading,” Vanessa said. “The Krushers are practicing softball. The first game will be here before you know it.”
Charlotte and Vanessa scrambled up off the driveway. As they ran onto the lawn, their shoes squished in the wet grass. From where she sat, Stacey could see speckles of mud up and down their jeans.
In another part of the yard, Abby was kicking the soccer ball to Marilyn and Carolyn Arnold. Marilyn swung her leg back to kick, swung it forward, slipped, and landed on her back. When she stood up, mud reached from her shoulders to her bottom.
Jackie Rodowsky tripped over what looked to Stacey like a blade of grass, and when he stood up, the knees of his jeans and his hands were black with mud.
Everyone playing softball had managed to practice a slide and the mud had worked its way up past legs to arms and chests.
Stacey told me later that she thought maybe it was the most beautiful sight she’d ever seen. Why not take advantage of all the mud, especially since the kids were covered anyway? She called Kristy aside.
“What do you think about mud pies?” Stacey asked in a low voice.
“Messy,” said Kristy.
“Could they look any messier?” Stacey asked. “Besides, we’re outside.”
“Their parents would kill us.”
“Would they? Anyway, I don’t think mud pies will make much difference. We can have a mud pie contest. Each person makes one mud pie and decorates it with something they find on the lawn, something that’s loose and doesn’t have to be picked,” said Stacey.
“That might work,” said Kristy.
Stacey said she could almost see the gears turning in Kristy’s head as she thought it over.
“You’ll be in charge?” Kristy asked.
“Sure. I’ll make the first mud pie. There’s a hose out here that we can use to rinse off hands, isn’t there?”
“I’ll drag the hose out, but first let’s tell the kids.” Kristy whistled shrilly. Everyone stopped what they were doing and turned to see what she wanted. Once she got their attention, she turned the stage over to Stacey.
“It’s time for the first and hopefully only Sunny Day Festival Mud Pie Contest,” Stacey announced. “Each person makes one pie and decorates it with things they find in the yard. The one that looks good enough to eat, wins!”
Stacey led the first group, Byron, Tom, Nicky, and Andrew, to the mud hole she’d chosen. The boys stood over the tempting mud.
“Go ahead,” Stacey said.
They stared at the mud, then at Stacey.
“What’s wrong?” she asked.
“You go first,” said Byron.
Stacey told me later that she was surprised at their reluctance, since their clothes were mud-covered already. But she didn’t hesitate. She stuck her hands into the cool mud. She squeezed it through her fingers, then buried her hands up to her wrists. Finally, she pulled her hands out, cupping enough mud to form into a flat pie in her palms. “Spring,” she said, “is finally here.”
The boys didn’t have to be asked a second time. Soon their hands were as muddy as their shoes.
When parents began to show up, nobody wanted to leave.
Stacey stood proudly over the mud pies while Claudia showed everyone the castles the kids had built in the sand. The driveway looked like a giant rainbow, and only cookie crumbs remained on the refreshment table.
We declared the BSC Sunny Day Festival an unqualified success.
“Are you ready?” I asked Mal and Kristy. They were the only BSC members who had come with me to Poe and Co. after the Sunny Day Festival. We were all tired and still messy from cleaning up after the kids had left, but I was anxious to test my theory that Mr. Cates was behind the hauntings. Inside my backpack were the fingerprint cards, copies of the newspaper stories, and The Complete Short Stories of Edgar Allan Poe. In talking things over, we’d decided that Ms. Spark must be part of the scheme too. A woman had bought the raven. Also, Ms. Spark had mentioned that she’d worked in Hollywood, and that her husband had been in special effects. She would know how to make a ghost appear.
We wiped our shoes before we entered the store, trying to scrape off as many layers of mud as possible.
“Doesn’t it look fabulous?” Ms. Spark said as we entered.
It did. The first thing we saw whe
n we walked inside was a round table with books arranged on top of it and a big branch sticking out of a vase. It looked like a dead tree — and it was perfect for a mystery-book display. Bright book jackets made the shelves come alive with color. In addition to Claudia’s decorations on the wall were posters above the shelves, featuring mystery movies and new mystery-book titles. The floor sparkled, free of loose nails and wood chips. Lenore seemed to reign over it all from her cage at the rear of the room.
“It’s a miracle,” said Kristy. “I would never have believed the store would be ready so soon.”
“It’s partly because of all the work you’ve done,” said Ms. Spark.
“I guess there isn’t anything else for us to do,” said Mal.
“We still need more book reviews for some of the children’s mysteries,” said Ms. Spark. “I have an empty table saved for a display.” She led us to the corner where the children’s books were shelved. “If you’ll pull the books you want to write about, you can put the recommendations on these cards” (she pointed to a stack of white cards with printed ravens in the corner), “then set them out on the table beside the ones Tom, Gillian, and Kristy have finished. You can arrange a display or I’ll do that later.
“I’d also like you to know that we want you to be our very special guests at the grand opening next Friday night,” Ms. Spark added.
“Thanks,” we said.
I had to wonder whether they’d still want us if my plan worked.
“The kids had a wonderful time at the Sunny Day Festival,” said Ms. Spark. “Larry is upstairs helping them scrape off the mud. It was pretty messy, wasn’t it?”
I looked down at my own mud-spattered jeans. “It was fun, though,” I said.
“You know, the weather can work two ways for a business,” Ms. Spark said, looking out the window. “If it’s nice, it can mean that people won’t mind coming out, but it can also mean they’ll have things to do other than shopping. Shopping is something you can do rain or shine. I guess we’ll see tomorrow when we open.
“I still have a million last-minute details to take care of, so I’ll move out of your way and let you work.” Ms. Spark walked back to the front counter.
We each pulled a few books off the shelves and sat down on the floor.
All I wanted to do was spring our trap and see if we caught Mr. Cates. I couldn’t think about book reviews.
“Hey, Dupin!” Mr. Cates joined us. “Thanks for the festival. Tom and Gillian are talking about the new friends they made and all the things they did.”
“It was fun. I don’t think that anyone sees Tom and Gillian as the new kids anymore,” said Kristy.
“Well, tomorrow is the big day,” Mr. Cates said. “I guess I’ll see if the work and planning are going to pay off. But with all the calls we’ve had since the newspaper stories appeared, I think we’ll have customers. I was spending so much time answering the phone that I had to buy an answering machine and make a tape that tells callers we’ll open tomorrow morning at ten. Fingers crossed!” He joined Ms. Spark at the front counter.
“Mal, that’s your cue — go turn on the tape,” I whispered. “If they ask, say you’re going to the bathroom or to the kitchen for a drink of water.”
Mal stood up and walked slowly past Mr. Cates and Ms. Spark. Neither one said a word as she passed by. She looked at us before entering the hallway, then disappeared.
I waited, my pen poised over the card as if I were going to start writing any minute.
Fluh-dub, fluh-dub, fluh-dub.
I dropped the pen and stood up. “That’s it!” I said, turning to Mr. Cates. “That’s the sound Logan and I heard when you were gone.” I hoped I looked pale. I walked to the desk and grabbed the edge. “It’s the ghost. I know it is,” I said. “Why is it coming back? What does it want?” I tried to make my voice rise.
Meanwhile, Mal slipped back into the room. “What is it?” she asked in a voice you could barely hear. Kristy joined us at the desk and put her arm around me. It wasn’t long before we heard footsteps, and Tom and Gillian ran into the room.
“Dad! What’s that noise?” Tom asked.
“It sounds like a beating heart!” said Gillian.
“I’m sure it’s water dripping. I’ll go check. Everyone stay right here,” Mr. Cates said.
Mal had turned the volume up as high as it could go. The beating seemed to surround us.
As soon as I heard Mr. Cates running down the basement stairs, I pulled away from Kristy and started after him.
“Stay here!” Ms. Spark said, coming out from behind the desk. “Let Larry make sure everything is safe.”
“I need a drink of water,” I said, hurrying past her.
She followed behind me, never quite catching up as I ran down the hall and turned to go into the basement. The sound of the heartbeat stopped as I started down the steps.
“Mary Anne! What are you doing here?” Mr. Cates asked as he started up the stairs.
“Making sure you found the stereo,” I said.
Mr. Cates turned a deep red and his shoulders slumped. He looked down at his feet.
“Dad, did you find the stereo finally?” Tom asked, joining us.
“Yes, son, I did. Let me bring it upstairs.” Mr. Cates returned to the basement and came back carrying the stereo system. “You and Gillian take this and listen to music for a while. I need to talk to Mary Anne.”
Tom and Gillian ran off with the stereo. The rest of us returned to the front of the store.
“How did you figure it out?” Mr. Cates asked. “You truly are a Dupin.”
“For awhile we thought it might be Alex trying to scare you away from the store so he could have the house back, or trying to scare Professor Kingsolver away so he could find any hidden manuscripts before she did. We thought it could have been Professor Kingsolver too, trying to clear the house so she could find Poe’s papers or Gable’s papers,” I said.
“I overheard Andy say that he wished the house would be torn down so there would be some new houses built and more work for his crew, so we thought it could be him as well,” I continued. “And we even thought it might really be a ghost.”
“For awhile we suspected it might be Tom and Gillian trying to scare you away,” Kristy said to Ms. Spark, “but then the tricks became too elaborate.”
I pulled the book of Poe short stories out of my bag, then the newspaper, then the fingerprints. “I read ‘The Mystery of Marie Rogêt’ and was struck by something Poe said, about how newspapers create sensations. That’s exactly what happened with this story.” I pointed to the feature that had appeared in The Stoneybrook News.
“And we remembered Ms. Spark mentioning she worked in Hollywood,” said Kristy.
“And Mary Anne said that Ms. Spark was the one who brought up all the strange occurrences when the reporter was here,” said Mal.
“I visited the pet store and found out a woman recently bought a raven, a woman who called herself Lenore. Then we found the stereo system and dusted the cassette for fingerprints.” I showed Mr. Cates and Ms. Spark the cards. “This one is from the tape, and these are all the suspects. We took the samples off the coffee cups the other day,” I admitted.
“I put my entire life savings into this bookstore,” said Mr. Cates. “I have to make it a success.”
Ms. Spark added, “And when I learned that Poe had visited here, and heard the rumors that he might have done something horrid to Benson Dalton Gable, I came up with the idea of a ghost. But I wanted to make sure that the name Poe was what was associated with the house from now on, not Gable. That’s why all the incidents had a Poe connection.”
“In other words, the whole thing was a publicity stunt,” said Kristy.
“I guess you could say that,” said Ms. Spark.
“And you girls figured it out,” said Mr. Cates. “That’s amazing. I was worried that it would scare off my good workers.”
“A mystery only makes us keep coming back,” said Mal.
> “Until we solve it,” I added.
“I hope now that it’s solved you won’t stop coming,” said Mr. Cates. “We still have a grand opening to celebrate.”
“I already invited them to be our special guests,” said Ms. Spark.
“You know,” said Kristy, “maybe you could continue to use the special effects you came up with. That heartbeat would be great as a signal for a door-prize drawing at the grand opening. And the ghost has to make another appearance. The construction worker was the only one who saw him.”
“It was dry ice,” said Ms. Spark.
“And I guess Lenore will be staying,” I said.
“Much to Pluto’s enjoyment,” said Ms. Spark.
“You wouldn’t have to wall up Pluto again, but maybe you could make it sound as if a cat were trapped behind a wall,” said Mal.
“I didn’t have anything to do with Pluto ending up behind that wall,” said Mr. Cates. “He must have wandered back there when the men were working, and fallen asleep or something. I swear that was an accident.”
“What about the stone in the basement?” I asked.
“It’s a prop I borrowed from a friend,” Ms. Spark admitted. “Should we bring it up here or take people on tours of Benson Dalton Gable’s grave?” She looked to Kristy.
“The basement,” said Kristy, “is much scarier.”
“You girls aren’t angry, are you?” Mr. Cates asked.
“I was, a little bit, when we first figured it out. But it was kind of fun,” I said.
“I’m sorry if I made you feel bad in any way,” said Mr. Cates.
“Will you be here on Friday night?” asked Ms. Spark.
“I will,” said Kristy.
“Me too,” Mal said.
“Dupin at your service,” I replied with a very bad French accent.
“Poe and Co. wouldn’t be what it is today without Dupin,” said Mr. Cates.
“We need to finish the reviews — start the reviews, really,” said Mal, “because I have to go home soon.”