Mary Anne and the Haunted Bookstore Read online

  “Do you think it could be a real ghost?” asked Abby.

  “That’s one of the things we need to find out,” Kristy replied.

  “If Benson Dalton Gable is buried in the basement, it could be a real ghost,” Mal said in a very quiet voice.

  “Especially if he was murdered,” Jessi added.

  I wasn’t the only who shivered at their words.

  “Let’s investigate all the people who might be behind the mystery before we start believing in ghosts,” Kristy said.

  “I’ll keep an eye on Ms. Spark. She has some interesting ideas about design and I’m having a good time working with her anyway,” said Claudia.

  “And one or another of us will be spending time with Tom and Gillian,” said Abby.

  “I think I’ll look at the Poe stories again,” I said.

  “I’d like to see the tombstone,” Stacey said. “And maybe meet Benson Dalton Gable.”

  We laughed a little nervously.

  “Kristy!” Tom was waiting at the door when Kristy, Logan, Claudia, and I arrived at Poe and Co. on Thursday. He didn’t even look at the rest of us. “Gillian and I have another idea for the Sunny Day Festival. We thought you could work on it with us … if you want,” he added.

  “That would be great,” Kristy agreed. “Did you give any invitations to kids in your class?”

  Tom nodded. “And I ate lunch with Byron Pike so we could talk about this idea I have.”

  “Let’s go upstairs, out of the way, and talk about it some more,” said Kristy.

  Going upstairs to talk was a good idea. The noise level was so high in the front room that it was almost impossible to hear anything. The room seemed filled with workmen, and each one was doing something noisy. The walls were finally lined with fixed shelves, and Ms. Spark was showing the men where to place the free-standing bookcases. Two men were hooking up a computer at the checkout desk and several other workers were on ladders, installing lighting in the ceiling.

  We were still standing in the doorway, waiting for some men carrying a shelf to pass, when Alex Gable opened the outside door and pushed in beside us.

  “Good picture,” he said to me, holding up that day’s edition of The Stoneybrook News. I’d spent most of the day listening to comments about the picture and answering questions about the ghost at Poe and Co.

  “I told Mom to buy extra copies,” said Logan.

  “It’s Dupin,” Ms. Spark said, putting her arm around me and pulling me close. She’d finished telling the men where to move the shelves and joined us. “Did you see the story in the paper?” she asked. Her eyes were brighter and her smile bigger than ever.

  I made myself smile. She couldn’t realize how many times I’d heard those words today.

  “So, Dupin,” said Alex, teasing, “have you solved the mystery of what happened to my long-lost ancestor yet?”

  “We may have to call in Nancy Drew,” Claudia said.

  “And the Hardy Boys,” Logan added.

  “You guys are probably every bit as good as they are,” said Ms. Spark. “What do you think about all the work that’s finally being done?”

  “Pretty amazing,” I said. “Do you still need us?”

  “Of course we do!”

  “I’d like to see the stone in the basement,” said Alex. “Mary Anne, maybe you could show it to me?”

  I shook my head. I wasn’t at all anxious to go down there again.

  “You may have noticed that no one is in the basement today,” said Ms. Spark. “Larry isn’t supposed to let anyone go down there until the police have finished looking at the area. Someone from the county will investigate when they find the time.”

  “Dupin, it seems you have your work cut out for you,” said Alex. “You, of course, know that observation is the key.”

  I also knew that Alex was speaking about Dupin’s technique in the stories Poe wrote featuring the detective.

  “Yet you have to do more than simply observe,” he continued. “You must know what to observe, and remember to look at the matter as a whole and not as a series of parts.”

  “You’ve been doing your homework,” said Ms. Spark.

  I looked around the room again, observing the activity. Alex may have been pulling my leg, but he was right. I had to remember to look at things as a whole. It was easy to start looking at each incident individually and not consider the bigger picture.

  Why was Alex teasing me about solving the mystery anyway? Did he think I couldn’t figure it out without his help? Or was he trying to show us how clever he is? Maybe he wanted to feel a part of Poe and Co., I finally decided as I watched him wander around the room looking at the changes.

  Ms. Spark pulled me back to the matter at hand. “I’ve already set aside some jobs for you,” she said. “Larry is tied up answering the phone — everybody’s calling to find out when the store is going to open. It doesn’t seem as if the possibility of a ghost is going to deter customers one bit. Anyway, we want to be able to take advantage of all the interest and open as soon as possible,” Ms. Spark continued.

  “I’d like to finish the designs I started,” said Claudia, “unless you have something else for me to do.”

  “I was hoping you’d help me with an announcement we want to send out to potential customers,” said Ms. Spark. “I have the wording, but it needs an illustration.”

  “Tell me what you want and I’ll see if I can do it,” said Claudia.

  “Great. Logan, want to do a little more painting? The walls are up in the kitchen and they need a coat of primer.”

  “I’ll go start.” Logan took off for the back of the store.

  “And Mary Anne, there’s a stack of envelopes and mailing labels in Benson Dalton Gable’s office. Would you mind putting a label on each envelope? It’s boring, I know, but it’s one of those things that has to be done. When I started working in Hollywood all I did was check props off a list. That was my entire job, but it led to better opportunities,” said Ms. Spark.

  “You worked in Hollywood?” exclaimed Claudia.

  “I was a set designer. My husband — my ex-husband — was in special effects. It was fun for a while,” said Ms. Spark. “And designing a theme for a bookstore is similar to set design.”

  “I’d like to stick around and help too, if that’s okay,” Alex offered.

  “Sure. We’ll take all the help we can get.” Ms. Spark looked around as if trying to find him a job.

  “I’ll keep Mary Anne company,” said Alex.

  I didn’t know why he wanted to help stick labels on envelopes, but if he stayed around maybe I could find out more about Gable. And Alex.

  “Hi,” said Professor Kingsolver, opening the front door and sticking her head inside. “Is the cat nearby?”

  “I think Pluto is upstairs with Tom and Gillian,” said Ms. Spark.

  Professor Kingsolver stepped inside. “What wonderful coverage you received in the news. I’ve been trying to call, but the phone has been busy all day.”

  “Constant calls,” said Ms. Spark.

  “The newspaper doesn’t say whether Mr. Cates plans to exhume the grave.”

  “We don’t even know if it is a grave. The police have asked us to do nothing for the time being. Besides, we’re trying to open a bookstore.”

  “Is Mr. Cates here? I have this book I promised to drop by,” said Professor Kingsolver.

  “I’ll give the book to Larry,” said Ms. Spark.

  “No, there are a few things I’d like to point out,” said Professor Kingsolver, clutching the book to her chest. “You know, this is finally looking like a bookstore!”

  That put the sparkle back in Ms. Spark. “It does, doesn’t it? A lot of the credit goes to Andy and his crew.” Ms. Spark smiled at the construction foreman, who was standing behind her.

  “I didn’t think the old place could look this good,” the foreman admitted. “I’ll be glad, though, when this job is finished.”

  Tom and Gillian burst into the r
oom, with Kristy following more slowly. “Where’s Dad?” Tom asked.

  “In the office, answering the phone,” said Ms. Spark. “Maybe I can help you.”

  “We’re looking for the stereo. I thought it was in a box in Dad’s bedroom, but we can’t find it,” said Tom.

  “It must be in a box someplace,” said Ms. Spark. “If you don’t find it upstairs, come back. I’ll mention it to your dad in the meantime.”

  “Please don’t forget,” said Tom.

  “I won’t.”

  Kristy and I exchanged looks. Tom was actually being civil to Ms. Spark.

  “And maybe Kristy can help you write reviews on those cards I had made up for the children’s section,” said Ms. Spark. “Remember when you suggested that we post reviews of some of the books for the customers?” she asked Kristy. “Tom and Gillian have some favorites too. I thought it would be appropriate to let them start the project.”

  “Good idea,” said Kristy. “I’d love to help. We can listen to music while we do it.”

  “If we ever find the stereo,” said Gillian.

  “I may have a tape player in my car,” said Ms. Spark. “If you don’t find the stereo, we’ll work out something.” She pushed Gillian’s bangs out of her eyes and Gillian smiled at her.

  The kids and Ms. Spark seemed to be getting along a lot better. If the “hauntings” were part of Tom and Gillian’s plan to scare Ms. Spark away, they might stop now, I thought.

  Suddenly, I heard a strange noise, a rustling from the hallway. I turned — just in time to see a huge black bird swoop out of the darkness. I covered my head with my arms. Hammers clattered to the floor and even the grown men ducked. Professor Kingsolver shrieked and pressed herself against the wall.

  Kristy gathered Tom and Gillian close to her.

  When I finally looked up again, the bird was perched on a small bust of Edgar Allan Poe that stood on the fireplace mantel. Its black eyes darted from one corner of the room to the other. Ms. Spark was staring at the bird, her mouth open. Alex had covered his head with the newspaper.

  “What in the world is going on in here?” Mr. Cates asked, standing in the doorway the bird had come through a moment before.

  “It’s … it’s a raven,” Ms. Spark said in little more than a whisper, although I wasn’t sure that was so.

  “I’ll take care of it,” said Andy.

  “No!” Ms. Spark placed her hand on his arm.

  The bird continued to sit calmly, looking at each one of us, I thought.

  In the background, I could hear the workmen talking quietly to one another.

  “Where’s Pluto?” Kristy asked. “All we need now is for him to come in and chase the bird.”

  “You go upstairs and make sure he stays away,” said Ms. Spark.

  Kristy kept Tom and Gillian close to her as they left to find the cat.

  “We certainly wouldn’t want anything to happen to Lenore,” Alex said, the newspaper still on his head.

  Was the raven in Edgar Allan Poe’s poem named Lenore? I remembered the name from something I’d read recently — and I’d read a lot of Poe, including “The Raven.”

  “I may have a cage around here someplace,” said Mr. Cates. “Let me see if I can find it and lure the bird inside. Someone is missing a pet, I’ll bet.”

  “I wish Ms. Simon were here now,” said Ms. Spark. “This would make a terrific picture. In fact, I’m going to find my camera.” She followed Mr. Cates down the hall.

  Logan joined Claudia and me.

  “Did the bird come in through the kitchen?” I asked him.

  “I don’t think so. And I would have noticed that.”

  “I need to go,” said Professor Kingsolver, fumbling with the doorknob. “I can’t stay in the same room with a bird. I’m allergic.” She sniffed. I noticed her eyes were red-rimmed as she slipped out into the rain.

  “She’s very emotional, isn’t she?” said Claudia.

  “Edgar Allan Poe strikes again, right, Dupin?” said Alex, finally lowering the newspaper.

  Mr. Cates returned, swinging a large birdcage. Lenore (I couldn’t think of the raven any other way, thanks to Alex) remained on the bust.

  “Let me take a picture first,” said Ms. Spark.

  Mr. Cates moved out of the way, and the camera clicked and whirred.

  “That’s what I’ll draw on the invitations,” said Claudia. “A raven.”

  “Appropriate,” said Alex.

  “Are you okay?” Logan moved a little closer to me.

  “Fine,” I answered. “Ready to work.” As far as work went, I had more in mind than sticking labels on envelopes. For instance, figuring out how Lenore found her way inside this particular house.

  Mr. Cates managed to trap the raven inside the cage, which he then carried to his office.

  “Where did it come from?” I asked Logan as we walked down the hall. Almost in answer to my question I felt a draft — from Benson Dalton Gable’s study. I stepped into the room and saw that the window was open.

  “I guess it flew in there,” said Logan. “And since it does seem to be a pet, I can’t blame it for wanting to come in out of the rain.”

  “But a raven finding its way to a bookstore called Poe and Co.? It seems a little more than coincidence. Especially when you add it to the sound of the beating heart we heard and the other things I haven’t had time to tell you about.” I stuck my head out the window and observed the ground underneath. It was so wet that any footprints would have vanished immediately.

  “Everybody except Mr. Cates and me was in the room with you when the raven flew in,” Logan pointed out.

  “I know, but someone could have released the bird a few minutes earlier.”

  “Check shoes,” suggested Logan. “Anybody who was outside this window will have mud caked on their shoes.”

  “Professor Kingsolver left,” I said, “but she said she was allergic and her eyes were turning red. I’d better hurry before Alex leaves too.”

  In the hall I met Mr. Cates. “Lenore is a good name for the bird, don’t you think?” he asked. “I wonder what Lenore eats.”

  “Birdseed?” I answered.

  “I guess I’ll have to go buy some,” Mr. Cates said.

  I tried not to be too obvious as I looked at Mr. Cates’s shoes. He was wearing running shoes, white ones, and there wasn’t any more mud on them than I’d expect.

  Upstairs, Kristy, Tom, and Gillian were hard at work, writing mini-reviews for their favorite books. The kids were wearing socks.

  “Did you find Pluto?” I asked. “The bird is in a cage, so Pluto doesn’t have to stay up here.”

  “He’s asleep,” said Gillian, “on the couch.”

  And he was, looking like a round, furry black pillow, curled up in the corner of the couch.

  “Where are your shoes?” I asked.

  “Over there,” said Gillian. “We don’t like to wear them when we’re home. Dad makes us wear them downstairs because of all the nails, but as soon as we come up here, they’re off.”

  Four shoes were piled inside the door. Again, there didn’t seem to be unusual amounts of mud on them.

  Downstairs, Alex was talking to Ms. Spark as Claudia sketched the Edgar Allan Poe bust. He could start labeling the envelopes without me, I thought. Alex also wore white running shoes with only a thin line of mud along the edges. I felt a flutter of excitement when I saw what Ms. Spark had on her feet — blue slippers with thin rubber soles. She too must have removed her outside shoes.

  “Isn’t it a little risky to wear those thin slippers around all these nails?” I asked her.

  Ms. Spark curled her toes inside the blue satin. “Probably,” she said, “but Tom and Gillian shoenapped my oxfords and buried them in the mud. I asked them to clean the mud off, but they haven’t had time yet. They’ll have to do it before I leave.”

  So Tom and Gillian hadn’t given up their old ways yet.

  Andy was on a ladder, screwing a lightbulb into the
fixture over the counter. His heavy work boots, and those of every other workman in the room, were mud-caked. That was no surprise, considering that their cars and trucks were parked in the lake of mud that would someday be a parking lot.

  Even though looking at shoes hadn’t been as helpful as I’d hoped, I reminded the Dupin in me that observation was the key to discovering the answers. I would have to keep looking.

  My new nickname made me want to know more about Poe’s Dupin. I’d decided to finish reading all the stories Poe had written about him. Unfortunately, my book from school was missing “The Mystery of Marie Rogêt.” I stopped by the library on Friday afternoon, on my way to Poe and Co.

  After looking in the card catalog, I located The Complete Short Stories of Edgar Allan Poe and found the one about Marie Rogêt. As I skimmed it, I noticed that Dupin had a lot to say about newspapers and their effect on an investigation. Poe had written (in Dupin’s words) that the “object of newspapers is to create a sensation rather than further the cause of truth.” I thought about this for a minute. I realized that people do believe what’s written in the newspaper, often without asking many questions. Yet, the information in a story is only as good as its source. For example, the story about Poe and Co. had created a sensation, if all the calls coming in yesterday were a measure of sensation. Yet the story didn’t tell why all the things had happened at the bookstore, only that they had happened. Something about that bothered me, but I couldn’t figure out exactly what. Maybe it would become clearer once I arrived at the store.

  I checked out the book of Poe stories and stuffed it into my backpack, then rushed to the store.

  As I walked through the rain I passed a pet shop. I wondered if it sold birds, big black birds. I stepped inside, setting off a buzzer. A man was stocking shelves to one side of the store. I saw brightly colored parakeets fluttering in cages in the back. In fact, they were in cages remarkably similar to the one Mr. Cates happened to have on hand for Lenore, dome-shaped and gold-colored. Of course, I didn’t know how much variety there was in birdcages.

  “I’ll be right with you,” the salesclerk said as I walked past him on my way to the birds.