"You can't just set 'em according to the studs," said Pete, "because this is an old house and the studs are cockeyed. And you can't use the floor or the ceiling to mark against, because the floor slopes and the ceiling sags. Old houses. Everything is out of whack."
Evan nodded. Old houses and old people, he thought.
Pete showed him how the plumb bob worked. It was a heavy metal weight tied to a length of string, and when you let the weight hang free, the string made a straight line "that goes all the way to the center of the earth," according to Pete.
"Really?" asked Evan.
"Yep. No matter where you go, no matter what you're standing on, if you have a plumb bob, it points straight to the center of the earth." He handed the plumb bob to Evan to try out. "That's gravity for you."
Evan hung the plumb bob from his finger like a yoyo. "That is so cool."
"Well, like my dad always said, 'Gravity is our friend.'"
Now that Pete had gone to the hardware store to buy a new box of galvanized screws, Evan was wandering around the house with the plumb bob to see if he could find even one thing that was the way it was supposed to be. It was surprising. Evan would look at a door and think it was straight, but then when he held up the string, he could see that it was crooked. The front door was out of whack. The railings on the stairs were out of whack. All the windows in the living room were out of whack.
"This house is crazy!" he announced loudly, even though there was no one there to hear him. His mother had gone into town to talk with the insurance agent handling the fire claim, Jessie was off with Maxwell, and Grandma was taking a nap.
"You can say that again!" A voice came from the kitchen. Evan walked in to find his grandmother wrapping her new scarf around her neck. Her injured arm was still in its sling, but she managed to get the scarf on with just one good hand.
"Grandma, you're supposed to be napping." He put the plumb bob on the kitchen counter next to the toaster and noticed that his mom's cell phone was plugged into the outlet, charging. His mother's phone was old, and the battery ran out just about every day. She kept saying she was going to replace it, but she never did.
"Says who?" said Grandma.
"Mom said."
"I'm not four, Evan. I know when I'm tired, and I know when I'm not."
Evan was so relieved to hear that she knew who he was, he smiled. But then he saw that she was putting on her snow boots, and the smile disappeared from his face. "Where are you going?"
"For a walk," said Grandma. "It makes me crazy being all cooped up."
"No," said Evan firmly. "Mom doesn't want you going out—" He was about to say alone, but he stopped himself.
"Since when does your mother tell me what to do?" Grandma had gotten both boots on her feet and was now reaching for her dark green barn jacket. She slipped her good arm through one sleeve and buttoned the loose coat over her injured arm. Evan was surprised to see how quickly and easily she managed the buttons. His grandmother really was amazing.
"Please don't go, Grandma," said Evan. "It's getting late. It'll be dark soon."
"I'll be quick. I just need to stretch my legs and see the sky. The trees are calling to me. Can't stand being in the house all day."
She was going. Evan could see that there was nothing he could do to stop her. That panicked feeling came back. Something bad was going to happen. How could he stop it? What was he supposed to do?
"I'll come with you," he said.
"Fine, but be quick. There's not much daylight left. I'll wait for you out front." Grandma pulled her hat on her head, looped Jessie's scarf once more around her neck, and walked out the back door.
Evan slipped his coat on first and checked to make sure he had both gloves in his pockets. Then he started to hunt for his boots. One of them was in the boot bin, but the second one was missing. He emptied out the entire bin, looked under the bench, and even checked in the kitchen, but the boot was nowhere to be seen. After five minutes had gone by, he finally thought to look between the clothes dryer and the wall, and there was his boot, wedged in tight. He wrestled it out and got it on his foot, then hurried out the back door and around the house to the front yard.
But Grandma was gone.
Chapter 9
Stakeout
"We need a map," said Jessie. She and Maxwell were at his house planning their stakeout. "Tonight's New Year's Eve, for crying out loud!" Luckily, it was early afternoon. There was still time, if they worked fast.
Maxwell had lots of drawing materials in his room: paper, markers, colored pencils, rulers, protractors. He even had one of those big slanting desks that architects use to draw up their plans. It was perfect. Jessie climbed up on the tall stool and began to draw.
There were only four houses within a mile of Grandma's house: the Uptons', Mrs. Lewis's, Maxwell's house, and the old Jansen house, which no one had lived in for years. Last summer Jessie and Evan had looked in the windows, and the house was as empty as a seashell.
But people moved around. So Jessie asked, "Is anyone living in that old empty house?"
Maxwell made a face. "That's where the Sinclairs live," he said. "They moved in right after me. But I was here first!"
Jessie wrote "The Sinclairs' House" on her map. Then she called Maxwell over, and together they stared at the piece of paper.
Jessie was pretty sure that Mrs. Lewis, who lived alone, hadn't taken the bell. Mrs. Lewis was close to ninety years old. There was no way an old lady like that could lift a hundred-pound bell.
The Uptons were good friends of Grandma's. They're the ones who had driven her to the hospital when she fell. The Uptons checked in on Grandma at least once a week, and Jessie's mom talked to them on the phone from time to time.
"I don't think the Uptons took Grandma's bell," Jessie said. She pointed to the Sinclair house on the other side of the bridge. "What are they like? Do they have any kids?"
"Mean boys," said Maxwell. He started rocking back and forth, taking that odd half-step with his right foot before shifting his weight back to his left. "Two of 'em. Mean, mean boys."
"What makes them mean?" asked Jessie, thinking back to the girls in her last-year class who had played a rotten joke on her. Jessie felt her face go hot, just remembering what they'd done.
Maxwell shook his head. "Won't say it. Mean boys. Both of 'em. Mean."
Jessie frowned. She needed Maxwell's help. If she was going to be Agent 99, she needed an Agent 86.
"Well, how old are they?"
"Jeff's in fifth grade and Mike's in fourth." Maxwell's rocking was getting faster, and then he stopped rocking and started walking in circles, snapping the fingers on his right hand like he was cracking a whip and making that strange puffing noise.
"Huh. They're not so big," said Jessie. But in her mind she imagined boys that towered over her, boys even taller than Evan, and he was one of the tallest boys in his fourth-grade class.
"They don't have to be big. They're mean," Maxwell said.
"You keep saying that," Jessie pointed out. "Stop repeating yourself. And sit down, for Pete's sake. You're making a lot of noise." Sometimes Maxwell could be very distracting.
Maxwell sat down on the edge of the bed, but he kept snapping his fingers and moving his feet back and forth, quietly blowing air through his lips.
"Did you ever hear them talk about Grandma's bell?" Jessie asked.
"Uh-huh. On the bus. They said they were going to take it."
"Really?" said Jessie. "They really said that? Why didn't you tell me?"
"You never asked."
"A person doesn't need to ask a question like that. A person should just know that that's the kind of information you'd tell a secret agent." Honestly, sometimes she just didn't get Maxwell. He was a smart kid, but there were times when he acted like he had rocks in his head.
"When did you hear them talking about Grandma's bell?"
"Wednesday. December eighth. At 2:23 p.m."
Jessie stared at him. "How do you re
member that?"
Maxwell shrugged.
Jessie wasn't sure if Maxwell was going to turn out to be a terrible spy or the best spy who ever lived. Either way, they had their suspects, and that meant it was spying time.
Jessie pointed to the map. "That's where we need to go for the stakeout," she said. "We need to watch those boys. See what they do and where they hide their stuff."
"Nope, nope, nope," said Maxwell, shaking his head. "I'm not going there. They're mean boys."
"They'll never even see us. We'll hide in the woods," said Jessie. "We'll need bino-specs, though. Do you have anything like that?"
"I won't go," said Maxwell. "I won't go."
"Fine," said Jessie. "I'll go alone."
"Okay."
Jessie shook her head. "A friend is not supposed to make another friend go on a stakeout alone. You don't know anything about being a friend." Jessie thought of all the times Evan had explained to her the rules for getting along with other kids. Now, here she was explaining those rules to Maxwell. It felt weird.
But it didn't matter much, because Maxwell didn't seem to care one bit that she was calling him a bad friend. It seemed to Jessie that all he cared about was staying away from the Sinclair house. She thought for a minute and decided to try a different approach.
"I thought you said you were smart."
"I am," he said. "Maxwell Smart."
"Well, if you're really Maxwell Smart, then tell me what you always say to the Chief." Jessie started talking in a deep voice that she hoped sounded like the Chief on Get Smart. "Maxwell, you'll be facing every kind of danger imaginable..." Jessie waited for Maxwell to reply. She knew that Maxwell had memorized every line of dialogue in all 138 episodes of the show.
Maxwell whispered his line so quietly, Jessie couldn't hear it. "Louder!" she shouted. "Maxwell, you'll be facing every kind of danger imaginable..."
"...and loving it!" shouted Maxwell. He broke into a big grin.
"You see! It'll be fun. We'll be just like Agent 99 and Maxwell Smart, and we'll find the bell!"
"We're not going to find the bell," said Maxwell.
"Don't be a pessimist," said Jessie, using one of her favorite big words. She headed for the door with the map in her hand. "We need to find binoculars. And flashlights. And maybe some kind of a weapon."
***
An hour later they were crouched behind a clump of young pine trees that grew on the edge of the woods. In front of them lay the bridge that crossed Deer Brook, and beyond that was the Sinclairs' house, their barn, and more woods.
Jessie stared through the binoculars they had borrowed from Maxwell's mom, but there wasn't much to see. She wished the binoculars were attached to a pair of eyeglasses, like the bino-specs on Get Smart, but there hadn't been time for that.
"We need to get closer," she said.
"Nuh-uh," said Maxwell, backing up slowly and bouncing a little.
Without waiting for Maxwell to agree, Jessie started running toward the house in a crouched-over position, keeping as low to the ground as she could. It was hard going because the snow was still deep, but she was determined to see what was happening inside the house.
When Jessie got to the porch steps, she scampered up and then pressed herself against the outside wall of the house. This, she thought, was the way a real agent would behave. She was good at this! It gave her a thrill to think that she was about to spy on a real suspect of a real crime.
She waited a minute without moving to see if Maxwell was going to follow her, but when she looked through her binoculars at the clump of pines she had just left, she could see that he was still there, hunkered down in the snow.
What a scaredy-cat! Of course, her own heart was pounding like a drum, but at least she had made it to the porch. What should she do now? Continue with the spy mission, or go back and get Maxwell? She thought about what the real Agent 99 would do, and she knew she didn't have a choice. Secret agents always stuck together. That was the whole point of having a partner.
Jessie tiptoed off the porch and ran back to the clump of pines. She found Maxwell just as she had left him, squatting in the snow and rocking back and forth on his heels.
"You have to come right now," she said.
"No!"
"Yes!"
"I won't."
"You will!"
He closed his eyes and shook his head furiously.
"Maxwell Smart, you listen to me. You've got a mission to do, and you're going to do it. We're spies. And they're the enemy. And this is what spies do. We creep up on the enemy, and we spy!"
She grabbed the sleeve of Maxwell's coat, and— Jessie couldn't believe it—he came along. Just like that, he followed her across the yard and up the porch. In less than a minute, they were both pressed up against the wall with their heads just inches below the window.
But when they dared to lift their heads and peek in—there was nothing to see. They were just staring at a regular old dining room.
Silently, Jessie motioned with her hand for Maxwell to follow her. Crouched down, she crossed the porch to the window on the other side of the front door, and Maxwell came along right after her.
Again, they slowly raised their heads to look inside the window and saw ... nothing. Just the living room, with no one in it.
Jessie sank down, pressing her back against the house. She looked at Maxwell, hoping he'd have a great idea, but he just looked like he wanted to go home. Spying was more difficult than Jessie had imagined.
Suddenly, there was a clattering and banging noise inside the house. The front door flew open, and two boys in ski jackets and boots came charging out of the house and onto the porch.
Chapter 10
Shattering Glass
Evan started running down the driveway. Grandma would be easy to spot, he was sure. She was wearing a dark green coat that would stand out like a flag with all that white snow blanketing the ground. He wished he could follow her tracks, but Jessie and Maxwell and Pete and Evan had made so many footprints since yesterday, it was impossible to make sense out of the mishmash that covered the driveway.
And what if she hadn't stuck to the driveway? What if she was in the woods that spread out on both sides? Evan ran past Little Pond, looking left and right. The woods were shaded and filled with the shifting shadows of brown and green cast by tall pine trees. The sun was low in the sky, and the woods seemed to be sprouting strange shapes right before his eyes. If Grandma had stopped to sit down, if she was hurt and lying on the ground surrounded by the thickness and silence of those trees, he would never see her.
He started to run faster. He thought of calling out, but a voice inside told him not to. Maybe Grandma had forgotten who he was again. Maybe she would be afraid of him. If she heard his voice calling, she might hide, and then he would never find her.
The thought banged against the inside of his skull with every crashing step he took. It was cold, and it was getting dark. She was old and didn't remember things right. People died up here in the mountains. Kids lost in a snowstorm. Grownups when their cars broke down. Hikers who left the trails and became disoriented. Evan had heard the stories. People died up here.
Evan kept running. The driveway was long and curved and stretched for over half a mile before reaching the road. He was breathing hard, and each breath felt like a rusty knife sawing through his lungs. His eyes stung from the cold, and two puddles of snot collected under his nostrils. But he kept running. Running toward the road. How far could she have gotten? As far as the road? She was wearing a dark green coat. No one would be able to see that coat if she was walking on the side of the road after dark. What if a car came around a curve too fast?
When Evan reached the Big Rock, he heard a car—the crunch and grind of its wheels as it turned from the main road onto the driveway. Mom! Evan would have screamed if his throat weren't so dry and raw from running in the cold. He waved his arms wildly, running toward the road.
But it wasn't his mother's car. It was Pete
's truck, and Pete rolled down his window to find out why Evan was acting like a crazy person in the middle of the road. Breathing hard, trying to keep from crying, Evan explained.
Pete listened seriously. "Okay, first thing, let's call your mom."
"She doesn't have her cell phone with her—she left it at home! And I don't know exactly where she is. Somewhere in town. Meeting with an insurance agent."
Pete nodded his head slowly, letting this information sink in.
"All right, then. Here's the plan. Someone needs to stay at the house. Can you do that? Can you be the person who answers the phone if anyone calls and who waits there in case your grandmother comes back on her own?"
Evan nodded his head.
"I'll call the police, and they'll put together a search. When's your mom expected back?"
Evan shook his head. "She said by dinnertime."
"I think I better drive into town and track her down," said Pete. "If she gets back before I do, have her call me on my cell, okay?"
"Okay." Evan was glad Pete was here, giving orders. Still, nothing Pete had said so far made Evan feel like Grandma was any closer to being found.
"I'll take you back to the house," said Pete.
"No, I'll walk," said Evan. He wanted Pete to go get his mother as soon as possible. And there was nothing waiting back at the house for him. Evan was sure of that.
Pete backed up the truck to the road and then spun the wheel and roared off. Evan started walking slowly toward the house. With every step he took, he became more convinced that Grandma was out in the woods, out in the falling darkness, out in the cold. And he couldn't help feeling that it was his fault. He should have convinced her not to go for a walk. He should have talked her into waiting with him in the mudroom. He should have found his boot more quickly. Heard her leaving. Figured out which way she'd gone. Not been the one she forgot. The one she didn't like.
When Evan got back to the house, he went first to the barn. No one was there. Then he stood in the front yard, the last place Grandma had been, and stared at the house. No lights were on. Grandma wasn't back. Pete had told him to wait inside. That was his job. And over the last few days, Pete had taught him the importance of each man doing his job and doing it well.