Finally, we walked by the side door and I sighed with relief, happy to have passed by. I’d been able to hear a few words of the argument, and I didn’t really want to hear more. It’s embarrassing to overhear people fighting about personal stuff.
Unfortunately, Carrot chose the next moment to do something that was beyond embarrassing. In fact, it was humiliating.
He started out by sniffing the rear tire of the van. I could still hear the people arguing, so I gave Carrot a little tug, trying to move him along. But Carrot stood firm, sniffing and sniffing. I’ll bet you can guess what he did next.
Right. He lifted his leg.
I wanted to die. I wanted to melt right into the sidewalk. I wanted to become totally invisible. But since I couldn’t do any of those things, I did the only thing I could do. I turned my eyes to the sky, folded my arms, and waited, hoping that the people in the van wouldn’t look out their window and see what was going on.
Luckily for me, they seemed to be completely involved in their fight. In fact, just as Carrot was finishing up, they finished up, too. Here’s how the end of the argument went (I could hear every single word): The red-haired woman said, “That’s it, Joe. I’ve really had it this time. I’m moving out.” Joe said, in a really nasty, sarcastic voice, “Right. Where to?” And she answered, “Oh, I’ll find a place.” She sounded calm all of a sudden, and very definite about her plans.
And that was it. Joe started up the van and took off with a squeal of tires. Carrot jumped back onto the sidewalk and stood there trembling. I patted him gently while I watched the van drive off. I shook my head, thinking how strange the episode had been. Who were those people? Had the red-haired woman really been reading meters — or was she just checking out the house? For some reason, the incident left me feeling shaken.
That partly explains why what happened on Tuesday morning made me more uneasy, even though it may not sound like much. Here’s what happened: When I arrived at the Johannsens’ that morning, I couldn’t find the newspaper. I glanced over at the neighbors’ house and saw their paper lying on the steps, so I figured the delivery person had already come by. But the Johanssens’ paper was nowhere in sight.
As I walked Carrot, I thought it over, and by the time we went back inside I’d decided what to do. While Carrot was eating the breakfast I’d given him, I grabbed the phone and called the offices of the Stoneybrook News. I knew the Johanssens hadn’t canceled their paper because they didn’t want to announce that they’d be away, so I pretended to be a member of the family. After putting me on hold while he did some checking, the person on the other end assured me that the paper had been delivered as usual.
I hung up and looked down at Carrot. “Something weird is going on,” I told him. He cocked his head and gave me a questioning look. “I don’t know what it is,” I said, “but it’s beginning to seem as if something strange happens every single time I come to this house. I’m starting to think I have a mystery on my hands.”
Carrot put his nose into my hand, as if to reassure me, but it was going to take more than that to make me feel better. It was time for me to turn to my friends in the BSC.
By the time I went to bed on Tuesday night, I had made a decision. I was going to approach the mystery at the Johanssens’ (if it was a mystery) in an organized, scientific way. Creepy things had been happening, but I didn’t want the situation to get the better of me. So, instead of panicking, I made a plan.
First of all, I wrote down every weird thing that I could remember happening at the house. When I looked at the final list, I was amazed; there were nine items on it! In a strange way, putting that list together made me feel better. I’d been a little worried that I might be overreacting, but anyone would have to agree that nine weird things in a week is a lot.
The next thing I did was this: I decided to keep the mystery to myself until I could explain it to all my friends at one time. I didn’t want to have to go over that list more than once. Also, I wanted to make sure everyone was really paying attention to what I was telling them. My friends in the BSC are great at solving mysteries, when they concentrate. Anyway, instead of trying to talk to my friends during lunchtime at school (where I’d probably be interrupted by a cafeteria-wide food fight or by Kristy’s gross comments on what the meatloaf resembled), I’d decided to ask Kristy if I could be on the agenda at our BSC meeting that Wednesday afternoon.
I slept well Tuesday night. Coming up with a plan had made me feel much calmer. And on Wednesday morning, when I went to the Johanssens’, everything seemed fine.
Well, almost everything.
There was just one thing that bothered me: that glass was in the sink again. I could have sworn I had washed it out and left it in the dish drainer to dry. I stared at it for a couple of seconds, while Carrot danced around begging to go out. Then I told myself that maybe I’d only meant to wash the glass, but had never actually gotten around to doing it.
After a quick walk, I gave Carrot breakfast and said good-bye. As usual, he seemed very sorry to see me go. I was getting used to that pitiful, pleading look he always gave me as I left the house, but it was still hard to close the door on him.
Even though nothing too strange had happened in the house that morning, I still felt uneasy. I spent the whole day at school walking around in a fog. None of my friends seemed to notice much, though. When I saw them at lunchtime they were too busy watching Alan Gray (the most obnoxious boy in our school) as he sculpted a snowman with his mashed potatoes.
(“Didn’t anybody ever tell him you’re not supposed to play with your food?” Mary Anne had asked, wrinkling her nose. “What else can we do with it?” Kristy had answered, staring at a forkful of peas and carrots. “I mean, they can’t expect us to actually eat this stuff.”)
After school, I headed for the Johanssens’, where everything seemed under control. I spent a long time playing with Carrot, and then headed over to Claudia’s for our meeting. I let myself into the Kishis’ at ten after five. I had arrived early on purpose, so I could talk to Kristy before the meeting. As I headed up the stairs I could hear voices coming from Claud’s room.
“Hey, Stace!” said Claud, when I poked my head into her room. “You’re early.” She waved a handful of purple and green ribbons at me. “Look what I found in a drawer! Want me to braid a couple of these into your hair?”
“Sure,” I said. “But first I just want to talk to Kristy about something.” I sat down next to Claud on her bed. Kristy was in the director’s chair, fiddling with a pencil.
“What’s up, Stacey?” she asked.
“Well,” I said, hesitantly, “I was wondering if you could make some time for me during the meeting. There’s something I want to ask everyone about.”
“Sure, I guess,” said Kristy, giving me a curious look. I noticed that Claudia was looking inquisitive, too.
“It’s no big deal,” I said. Suddenly, I began to wonder if I was making too much of a few silly incidents. Would my friends think I was nuts?
I didn’t have too much time to wonder, though, since just then the other members of the BSC began to arrive. Shannon showed up first, looking exhilarated, and told us her debate team had just won a big match against another school. “That gives Stoneybrook Day one of the best records in the state!” she said.
We congratulated her. “What was the debate about?” asked Claudia.
“Well, it was mainly about whether the two-party system can survive in today’s United States,” said Shannon. “My team’s position was that it can’t, because the changing political scene demands responsive —”
Claudia was nodding as if she knew what Shannon was talking about, but I had a feeling Shannon had lost her somewhere around “mainly.” What she was saying was sort of interesting, but I have to admit my attention wandered when Mary Anne came in and insisted we check out the new jacket she’d bought at the mall. Claudia and I were both happy to give our expert opinions on that matter.
Jessi and Mal showed up s
oon after, just as Kristy was preparing to call the meeting to order. They settled in quickly, since Kristy insists on starting our meetings on time.
“Order!” said Kristy, as soon as Claud’s clock clicked over to five-thirty. “Let’s get started,” she added. “We have a lot to talk about today. For one thing, there’s our holiday party. It’s only a week and a half away, and we have some planning to do.”
“I had a great idea for decorations,” Claud began, but Kristy cut her off.
“Just a second,” she said. “There’s another thing we need to discuss before we start on the party.”
“Oh, right,” said Claud, looking at me.
“Stacey?” Kristy asked. “Did you want to talk to us?”
Suddenly I had butterflies in my stomach. For a second, I considered telling Kristy to forget the whole thing. What if my friends thought my fears were ridiculous and decided I was too immature to be a good sitter? “Maybe I —” I began, ready to drop the subject before I’d even brought it up. But I was interrupted by a ringing phone.
Kristy reached over and grabbed it. “Baby-sitters Club!” she said. “Oh, hi, Mrs. Newton.” She listened for a minute and then told Mrs. Newton she’d call her back. After she hung up, she turned to Mary Anne. “Who’s free next Tuesday night?” she asked. “Mrs. Newton has a meeting to go to, and she needs a sitter for Jamie and Lucy.”
“Let’s see,” said Mary Anne, checking the record book. “It looks like either Shannon or Claud.”
That job ended up going to Claud. As soon as Kristy hung up after calling Mrs. Newton back, the phone rang again — and again. Each time, I felt relieved, since every phone call meant I could put off the time when I’d have to tell everybody about my silly fears.
But you know what? When I finally had a chance to explain what was going on at the Johanssens’, my friends didn’t act as if I were being silly at all.
“Oooh, creepy!” said Jessi. “I wonder if there’s a ghost in that house.”
“A ghost? I don’t think so,” said Claud. “What I’m wondering about is that so-called meter reader. I’d keep an eye out for her and her husband, if I were you.”
“What was that thing about the glass again?” asked Mary Anne.
I read down the list again. These were the nine items I’d come up with the night before:
1. Carrot going wild in the house, chewing things up.
2. Carrot growling at me when I let myself in.
3. The glass in the sink.
4. The warm coffeemaker.
5. The Kleenexes in the wastebasket.
6. Carrot’s leash in the wrong place.
7. The kitchen smelling like toast.
8. The incident with the meter reader.
9. The missing newspaper.
I didn’t even mention the tenth thing: the glass in the sink again. The list seemed long enough without that.
“It seems like most of those things could be explained pretty easily,” said Shannon. “Like the warm coffeemaker — it might be on a timer, the way you said. And Carrot’s behavior might be just because he misses his family. But when you put them all together, they are pretty weird.”
“I agree,” said Kristy. “But at the same time, I’m not sure that there’s any more to it. I mean, the house hasn’t been broken into, right, Stacey?”
I shook my head. “It’s not like anything’s been stolen,” I said. “It’s just that I have this awful feeling that I’m not the only one who’s been in that house during the last week.”
“But how could anybody else get in if they didn’t break in?” asked Claud, frowning. I could tell that she was already imagining herself as Nancy Drew. (She’s read every book in that series at least twice, even though her parents would rather she read “real” literature.)
“That’s the question,” I said. I shook my head. “Look, it’s probably all in my mind. I feel much, much better just talking about it. But there’s not really anything else we can do, is there?”
“I guess not,” said Mary Anne, looking concerned. “Just be careful over there, okay? And let us know if any more weird stuff happens.”
“I will,” I said. “Thanks, guys. Okay, let’s talk about our party now.”
We spent the rest of the meeting planning our holiday party. There was a lot to discuss, since we wanted to make sure nobody felt left out or slighted. That meant celebrating all the holidays: Hanukkah, Christmas, and Kwanzaa (that’s an African American holiday). We had to figure out what kind of food to have, what games to play, and what presents to pass out. Plus, Kristy was still worried about whether we’d have snow for the sleigh ride the kids were counting on. She appointed herself “Weather Watcher.”
We were in the midst of planning a trip downtown to shop for little presents when the phone started ringing again and we had to stop to line up a few more jobs.
Between calls Mal mentioned that her youngest sister, Claire, had been talking a lot about that escaped prisoner. He still hadn’t been caught, but as far as I knew the police thought he was probably a long way from Stoneybrook by this time. I had forgotten all about him, but it sounded as if some of our younger clients were worried. Kristy said her stepsister Karen had mentioned it, and Claud said that when she’d sat for the Kuhns the day before, all three kids talked of nothing else.
“Great,” said Mary Anne, with a sigh. “I’m supposed to sit for them tonight.”
“Well, if anybody can calm them down, it’s you,” said Claud.
“Talk to them about the party,” suggested Jessi. “That should take their minds off the prisoner.”
“Whatever you do, just don’t promise them a sleigh ride,” said Kristy, laughing.
By the time our meeting broke up, I was feeling better than I had in days. Talking to my friends had definitely been the right thing to do, even though we hadn’t exactly solved my mystery.
“Hi, Mary Anne,” Mrs. Kuhn said, smiling, as she answered the door that Wednesday night. “How are you? How’s Logan?”
“I’m fine, and so is Logan,” said Mary Anne. “I’m supposed to say hello to Jake for him.”
Logan is a big favorite of Jake Kuhn’s, and Mrs. Kuhn is happy about that, since she likes Logan. She wasn’t happy about it at first, though. See, what happened was this: Mary Anne, who sits fairly often for the Kuhns, had noticed that Jake seemed to be missing having a man in his life. (The Kuhns are divorced, and Mr. Kuhn lives in Texas. The kids don’t see him that often.) Mary Anne figured it would be good for Jake if Logan dropped by once in a while when she was sitting for the Kuhns, and she was right. Jake and Logan really hit it off. But Mary Anne was very, very wrong about something else.
What was she wrong about? Well, she had asked Logan to come over while she was babysitting, and she didn’t clear it first with Mrs. Kuhn. Bad move, Mary Anne. Plus, she didn’t talk to the rest of us in the club about her plans for one of our regular clients, which is also a no-no.
Anyway, when Mrs. Kuhn first found out about Logan’s visits, she was pretty mad. The way she saw it, Mary Anne was using babysitting time to entertain her boyfriend. For a little while, it looked as if she might even tell other BSC clients about what had happened. Everybody in the club was worried that the BSC’s reputation might be ruined, and we were all kind of ticked off at Mary Anne. (She didn’t take that too well, although for the most part she managed not to cry in front of us.)
Then, finally, Jake explained to his mom that Logan was coming over to see him, not Mary Anne. After that, everything was okay. In fact, as I just mentioned, Logan is now a favorite of Mrs. Kuhn’s, and he’s welcome at the Kuhn house anytime. And Mary Anne is closer than ever to all the Kuhn kids.
“It’s awfully quiet here,” said Mary Anne, as Mrs. Kuhn was putting on her coat and finding her car keys. “Are all the kids home?”
Mrs. Kuhn nodded. “I told them no TV tonight, but I said they could listen to the radio while they finished up their homework. They’re probably in the living ro
om.”
Once Mrs. Kuhn had left, Mary Anne went in search of the kids. She found them in the living room, huddled near the stereo cabinet, listening intently to the radio. “Hey, guys!” said Mary Anne cheerfully. “What’s up?”
“Shh!” said Jake, putting his finger over his lips. “There’s a bulletin coming up.” He turned back to the radio, but not before Mary Anne had noticed how scared he looked. She studied Patsy’s and Laurel’s faces, and saw that they seemed pretty upset, too. Now, Jake is eight, and fairly mature for his age. But Laurel is six, and Patsy’s only five. Mary Anne didn’t like to see them frightened. She reached over their heads and snapped off the radio.
“Hey!” said Jake. “I was listening to that. They’re giving important updates on the escaped prisoner.”
“Such as?” Mary Anne asked.
“Such as he might have been seen in Mercer yesterday,” said Jake. “That’s only twenty miles away from here.”
“And a lady saw him in New Hope, too,” added Laurel.
“The bad guy is coming!” said Patsy, her eyes round.
“I heard those reports earlier,” said Mary Anne, reaching out to give Patsy a comforting hug as she spoke. “They weren’t confirmed sightings. And the police are all over the place watching out for this guy. I don’t think it does us any good to worry.”
“But —” Jake began.
“But nothing,” Mary Anne said. “Your sisters are too young for this. It’s scaring them.” She didn’t add that Jake seemed frightened, too. No need to make him defensive.
“I’m not scared!” insisted Laurel stoutly.
“Me, either,” added Patsy. But she sounded less sure.
“We want to catch him!” said Jake. “If we did, we might get a reward and our pictures in the paper and everything.”
“Let’s leave catching him up to the police, okay?” said Mary Anne. As she spoke, she had to hide a smile. After all, the members of the BSC have been involved in a few mysteries, and we don’t always leave things up to the police when we should. But, as Mary Anne told herself, we’re quite a bit older than Jake and his sisters.