The Mystery at Claudia's House Read online

  Contents

  Title Page

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Acknowledgment

  About the Author

  Also Available

  Copyright

  “Oh, Lamont, you shouldn’t have!” squealed Becca. “These flowers are so gorgeous. But I don’t know where I can possibly fit them! My entire house is already full of the beautiful flowers you’ve brought me.”

  “Well, actually,” said Charlotte, putting on a deep voice, “these aren’t for you. They’re for Charlotte, and they’re from Derek!”

  Charlotte and Becca broke into hysterical giggles. Charlotte stuck the bouquet of flowers (actually a crumpled sheet of newspaper) behind a chair and turned to me. “Isn’t it awesome? Derek Masters is coming back to town!”

  “It’s great,” I agreed, hiding a smile. And to tell the truth, it was kind of exciting. Not every little town has a real live TV star. I could understand why the girls were so wild about the news.

  “The girls” were Charlotte Johanssen and Becca Ramsey. I was baby-sitting for Charlotte, and Becca, who is Charlotte’s best friend, was visiting. Who am I? I’m Claudia Kishi. I’m thirteen years old and I’m in eighth grade at Stoneybrook Middle School. Stoneybrook, Connecticut, that is. That’s the name of the town I live in. And the town Derek Masters would soon be returning to!

  Derek Masters, in case you’re wondering, is an actual, genuine TV star. He’s on this really popular show called P.S. 162, about a class in an inner-city elementary school. The character he plays is called Waldo, and he (the character, not Derek) is kind of a geek. But he’s a funny geek, and the other kids in the class like him. He’s not the most popular kid, though. That would be Lamont, who’s smart, and funny, and really cute. Lamont is the one Becca has a giant crush on.

  Anyway, Derek Masters lived in Stoneybrook long ago before he even dreamed of becoming a star. He used to do a little modeling and stuff like that, and then he was discovered and hit the big time. So now he lives out in L.A. most of the time, since that’s where his work is. But whenever he has a chunk of time off, he and his family come back to Stoneybrook, where they still have a house.

  “How long is Derek staying this time?” I asked Charlotte. She seemed to have all the inside information on Derek and his plans.

  “Well, his show’s on hiatus,” she said knowingly. “So I guess he’ll be here for a couple of months.”

  “His show is on what?” I said.

  “On hiatus. It’s just a break,” said Becca. “Like, they’ve already made all the shows for this season, so now they have some time off until they start again.”

  “How do you know so much about this stuff?” I asked. I was amazed at how sophisticated they sounded, for eight-year-olds.

  “Derek told Nicky all about it,” said Charlotte. “And Nicky told us.”

  Nicky is Nicky Pike, who is Derek’s best friend in Stoneybrook. “So, did Nicky tell you when Derek will be here?” I asked.

  “Today!” cried Charlotte. “He’s coming today!” She sounded like an eight-year-old again.

  “But we probably won’t see him for a few days,” added Becca. “He might not start school until Monday.”

  “I don’t know if I can stand it,” said Charlotte, dramatically. “It’s only Wednesday. How can I wait five whole days to see him?”

  “Well, you’ve already waited for about five months,” pointed out Becca. “I think you’ll make it.” She sounded very mature. Then she started to giggle. “But I don’t know if I will! I can’t wait to see him. Maybe this time he got Lamont’s autograph for me!”

  The girls started to talk excitedly about what they would wear to school on Monday, and what they would say to Derek when they saw him. I listened for a bit, and then I tuned out. Poor Derek. When he’s in Stoneybrook, what he wants most of all is to be treated like a regular kid, not like a star. He likes to do all the things other eight-year-old boys do. He’s a good big brother to his little brother, Todd. And, while he sometimes has trouble readjusting to “normal” life, he’s basically just a smart, friendly guy. I hoped the other kids would give him room to be himself, instead of treating him like someone famous. I can understand why he hates that.

  I understand a lot about kids. I kind of pride myself on that. It’s not necessarily because I have a natural talent for it, though — it’s just because I’m around kids a lot. I baby-sit all the time, and it’s something I love to do. In fact, I’m in this club — the Baby-sitters Club or BSC. It’s a group of girls — and one boy — who love to baby-sit and who have gotten together and made kind of a business of it. I’ll explain more about the club later.

  Understanding kids may not be one of my natural talents, but I do have some of those. Mainly what I’m talented at is art. I love all kinds of art, and without being egotistical about it, I have to say I’m a pretty good artist. Not that I love everything I do. I’ve drawn plenty of pictures only to rip them up, and started and never finished a bunch of sculptures. But I’ve also done some things I’m proud of, and things other people seem to like a lot.

  I’m always working on some project. Sometimes it’s handmade jewelry, which I love to wear or give as gifts. Sometimes it’s a sculpture or a collage. Other times it’s a series of paintings, like the ones I did of junk food. Yes, junk food. That’s one of my other loves. I could eat Twinkies and Doritos all day long. I think my paintings really showed how much I love the stuff, too, because the objects in the paintings — a Chunky bar, a pack of Lifesavers — look beautiful. They’re kind of like portraits. Portraits of loved ones.

  Pretty silly, right? Oh well, maybe you have to see them to understand. Anyway, I do love art. And junk food. What else? Well, I love to read mysteries — especially Nancy Drew stories. My parents don’t approve because they think those books’ll rot my brain. (They don’t approve of junk food, because they think it’ll rot my teeth!) But I keep on reading — and eating — what I like. I just keep the books and food hidden, and figure what my parents don’t know won’t hurt them.

  Except for their lack of taste in food and reading material, my parents are basically great people. They are Japanese-American like me. And although they can be strict, they are also fair. They do their best to treat me and my older sister equally, even though sometimes I think Janine (that’s my sister) gets more attention than I do. The fact is, she earns attention by doing exceptional things, like getting all A-pluses, for example, or by being invited to join this program in which she attends college classes even though she’s still in high school.

  Janine’s a genius. I mean it. She’s not just smart or intelligent. She’s a super-brain. Sometimes I wonder how we’re even in the same family. I mean, I’m not dumb, but I don’t do well in school. I never have, and I probably never will. And you know what? I don’t really care. I mean, sure I wish I were a better student, but being a good artist means more to me. I know my parents think I should “apply” myself, since my teachers say that that’s all I need to do to get better grades. But I guess things like spelling and math just aren’t that important to me.

  Janine sometimes teases me and tells me I’m “shallow” because I’m interested in hairstyles and cool clothes. I’ll admit that I love to wear trendy stuff — in fact, sometimes I’m even the one to invent trends in
my school. And I do love to try all kinds of wild things with my hair, which is long and black and straight. I even love to experiment with makeup. I like to try accentuating certain features. But I don’t think that makes me shallow. These things are part of my artistic nature. I see my body as a blank canvas, and I can put anything I want onto that canvas, depending on my mood. Does that make any sense?

  I was thinking this over, and checking that day’s outfit (lace leggings, purple tie-dyed T-shirt dress, and purple high-tops) in the mirror, when I was snapped back to reality by Charlotte, who was tugging on my sleeve.

  “Becca and I want to make ‘welcome back’ cards for Derek. Can you help us?”

  “Sure,” I said. “That sounds like fun.” I love working on art projects with kids. “Let’s put down some newspaper, and then we can take out the poster paints and get crazy!”

  Pretty soon we were sprawled out on the floor, making a big mess. (I had decided to make a card too, just for fun.) Charlotte covered her paintbrush with drippy red paint. “Derek’s going to love this card,” she said. “I’m making a picture of him as Waldo. You know, with those funny glasses and that spiky hair?”

  Derek-in-person looks so different from Derek-as-Waldo. The first time I met him I could hardly believe Derek really was the same person I’d seen on TV. In real life he’s totally normal-looking, but on the show he gets laughs just by walking into the room.

  “I like Waldo,” mused Becca. “He’s funny. But Lamont! Lamont is really special. He is so cute. Did you ever notice how big his eyes are?” I think one of the reasons Becca picked Lamont to have a crush on is because he’s African-American. Becca is, too. And she doesn’t have too many black friends in Stoneybrook, because not that many black people live here. She used to live in New Jersey, in a more integrated town. Anyway, she probably likes Lamont because she relates to him and wishes she knew more boys like him.

  It must be hard sometimes for Becca and her family. I’m friends with her older sister Jessi (she’s in the BSC), and I know that when they first moved here people were actually mean to them. By now they’ve been accepted, but it wasn’t easy at first.

  Charlotte and Becca and I spent the rest of the afternoon finishing our cards and talking about Derek and his show. Just as we were cleaning up, Dr. Johanssen, Charlotte’s mom, came home. It was already five o’clock by then, so I said my good-byes and headed back to my house to get ready for our club meeting, which is always at five-thirty and always in my room.

  The house was quiet. I knew my parents were still at work. I also knew where I could find Janine. She was, as usual, in her room. Studying. What else is new? I stopped in to say hi to her, and then went into my own room, thinking I should tidy it up a little before the meeting.

  As soon as I walked in, I noticed something strange. My room was messy, but that wasn’t the strange thing. It’s always messy. The strange thing was the way it was messy. It was different. Somebody else had made it messy, not me. On my desk, my papers were disorganized in an unfamiliar way. The makeup on my dresser was spread out differently than it had been that morning. And my closet door was hanging open even though I knew that, for once, I’d left it shut that morning.

  I couldn’t believe it! Had my room been burglarized, even though the rest of the house looked like it hadn’t been touched? I started to panic. Then I looked carefully around the room and began to calm down. Nothing was missing. I could see that right away.

  At that moment, my friends Kristy and Mary Anne arrived. I wasn’t going to have time to put my room back in order because it was almost five-thirty and our club meeting was about to start.

  “Can you believe this?” I said, gesturing at the mess on my desk and dresser.

  “What?” asked Kristy.

  “My room,” I said.

  “What about it?” asked Mary Anne. “It looks the same as always.”

  I had to laugh. “I guess it does. But this is a different kind of mess than usual. Someone was in here!”

  “You’re kidding!” said Kristy. “What did they take?”

  “Nothing that I know of,” I admitted. “But still —”

  “Tell us about it after the meeting,” interrupted Kristy. The other members of the club had arrived by then, and my digital clock had turned to five-thirty. Kristy is very punctual and always starts our meetings on time. She’s also very focused, and never lets anything get in the way of club business.

  Even though Kristy can drive me nuts sometimes, I’m glad she’s our club president. If she weren’t, I don’t know if we’d ever get anything done. The rest of us would be happy to discuss school or the latest issue of People magazine for hours at a time, but Kristy keeps us focused on the club.

  But that’s not the only reason she’s president. The main reason is that she thought up the idea for the club. Kristy’s always having great ideas, and this was the most awesome. She figured parents would think it was convenient to be able to call one phone number and reach a bunch of good sitters — and she was right. Business has been booming since the day the club started. Here’s how it works: we meet every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday from five-thirty to six. We advertised those hours at first, with fliers, but we hardly ever have to do that anymore. Parents call to line up sitters, and we divide up the jobs according to who’s available when. Simple, right? But it took Kristy Thomas to think of it.

  Kristy’s a real dynamo. She has brown hair and brown eyes, and she’s short for her age. She’s kind of a tomboy: Kristy loves sports, especially baseball. And she doesn’t care much about clothes and makeup and all that. She wears nearly the same thing every day: jeans, a turtleneck, and running shoes.

  Kristy has a big family, and it’s much more complicated than mine. She has two older brothers and one younger one, plus a stepfather and his kids — a boy and a girl — from his first marriage. (Her stepbrother and stepsister don’t live with Kristy all the time, though. Most of the time they’re with their mom.) Also, her mom and stepdad adopted a little girl, so Kristy has a two-year-old sister, too. Plus, her grandmother lives with the family. It’s a full house, but luckily Kristy’s stepdad (whose name is Watson Brewer) is a millionaire — honest! — and their house is actually a mansion.

  That’s Kristy. Now, more about the club she organized. I’m the vice-president. Why? Well, mainly because we meet in my room and use my private phone line for our business. I guess I don’t have any real duties, unless you count supplying Ring-Dings and Ruffles. Oh, and I also take care of any business calls that come in during times when we’re not meeting.

  Mary Anne Spier is our secretary. She’s Kristy’s best friend, even though they are very different people. I think the only thing they have in common may be their looks: Mary Anne also has brown hair and eyes, and is small for her age. But while Kristy is outgoing, Mary Anne is more of a mouse. She’s shy, and quiet, and very sensitive.

  Everybody loves Mary Anne, because she’s a good listener and a good friend. She’s not very sophisticated, but in a way she’s more mature than she seems. For example, she’s the only one in the club who has a steady boyfriend! Also, she’s very dependable, which is important for the club. As secretary, she takes care of a lot of little details. She keeps our record book up-to-date with all kinds of information about our clients. She also keeps track of everyone’s schedule, so when a call comes in she always knows — at a glance — who’s available.

  Mary Anne’s mom died a long, long time ago, and Mary Anne grew up with just her father. I know life wasn’t always easy for Mary Anne or her father. But now Mary Anne has a new stepmom, and a new stepsister and -brother. More about that later.

  Our club’s treasurer is Stacey McGill, who happens to be my best friend. Stacey is cool. Very cool. She grew up in New York City, and I think she’s more sophisticated than anyone else in Stoneybrook. Her outfits are always awesome, and she perms her blonde hair and wears makeup that brings out her big blue eyes.

  Stacey’s parents got divorced not
too long ago, and her dad lives in New York. Stacey visits him as often as she can, but I think she’s glad she decided to live in Stoneybrook with her mom. (Boy, would I hate to have had to make that kind of decision!) I think Stacey has a really good relationship with her mother. Mrs. McGill used to baby Stacey, because Stacey has diabetes. But by now Stacey has proved that she is mature enough to take care of herself.

  Diabetes is no joke. It’s a serious disease, and Stacey will always have it. It has to do with blood sugar; I’ve never entirely understood the scientific explanation, but I know that Stacey has to be very careful about what she eats. No sweets. (That would be a total nightmare for me.) Also, she has to give herself a shot every single day. That’s because her body doesn’t produce the right amount of this stuff which I forget the name of. Anyway, Stacey’s very accepting about having diabetes, even though it sometimes makes her really, really sick.

  As treasurer of our club, Stacey’s main job is to collect dues every Monday. She sometimes has to pry the money out of us, since we all hate to part with our hard-earned cash. She also keeps track of how much money is in the treasury. This is a snap for Stacey. She loves math. (Gag me!)

  We use the dues money for a lot of different things. For example, we pay Kristy’s brother to drive her to meetings, since Watson’s mansion is way across town. (Kristy used to live across the street from me.) And some of the money goes for supplies for our Kid-Kits. Kid-Kits are another of Kristy’s great ideas. They’re these boxes we’ve decorated to look cool, and they’re full of stuff that kids love: games and puzzles and stickers and books. We bring them on jobs, and they’re always a big hit, especially on rainy days when kids are bored to death with all their own toys.

  If Stacey can’t make a meeting some day, Dawn Schafer can take over her job. In fact, Dawn can take over any job in the club. She’s our alternate officer, and she can fill in for anyone. Dawn’s great. She’s also absolutely gorgeous, but she doesn’t even know it. She has this long, long silky blonde hair, and big blue eyes, and this great casual-yet-extremely-stylish way of dressing.