Winterhouse Page 12

  * * *

  At eleven o’clock the next evening—after Elizabeth had, indeed, seen Norbridge head to the library late on the night of the scavenger hunt—Freddy and Elizabeth were in Room 213, waiting. Elizabeth was standing on a chair and looking through the peephole again, while Freddy was trying to distract himself by sitting on her couch and reading A Guide for Children. He kept looking up to see if she had changed her position.

  “You’re making me nervous,” he said. Elizabeth had her face pressed against the door.

  “Shh!” she said. “He’s bound to pass by anytime.”

  “But we decided we would just go to the library after a while,” Freddy said. “Why do you have to watch for anything?”

  “I just do,” she whispered. “Go back to studying about walnut shells.”

  “I’m reading your ancient book, actually,” Freddy said, pushing up his glasses. “Someday when I’m inventing an energy source that will save the world, you’ll remember how you knew me here at Winterhouse.”

  “Why don’t you try another keyword for Nestor’s code? Maybe ‘big-head’ or something.”

  “Seriously, how many words do you think we’ve tried now?”

  Elizabeth pulled her face from the door for a second and peered off quizzically. Between the two of them, they had worked through so many possibilities over the last two days—“Flurschen,” “mountain,” “pool,” “skis,” “book,” “lobby,” “sled,” “ice,” “snow”—along with every name in the Falls family that might have been used—she had lost track. They had even begun trying words at random—“cornpone,” “Timbuktu,” “migraine,” “chowderhead,” “halitosis”—and a few unusual names out of desperation: “Zelda,” “Mojo,” “Binky,” “Rapunzel.” None of them had worked.

  “At least a hundred,” Elizabeth said, returning to her watch.

  Freddy frowned. “Hey,” he said, “while we’re waiting. Have you read the ending of this book?”

  “I’ve read the whole thing.” She’d been wondering at times throughout the day about the strange silver letters at the front of the book and had examined them a few more times; they remained a puzzle to her.

  “Listen to this.” Freddy began to read aloud.

  And so our journey ends! If this book has helped you learn how to have plenty of fun, my work has succeeded—at least halfway. Better still would be if you have understood how to put a smile on the faces of others—if you have, my work has succeeded by about nine-tenths. If you’ve only partially learned how to have fun but have learned almost entirely how to make others smile, then my work has succeeded by something in the neighborhood of thirteen-sixteenths. If you believe you know how to have fun but cannot successfully make other people smile all the time, my humble volume has perhaps been only something like seventeen-twenty-fifths successful. Other combinations you may work out for yourself. Above all, remember—the most important things in life have a key. Keys unlock all the secrets for living a life you can be glad of. Don’t ever forget that. Look for the key.

  “Doesn’t that seem like a really bizarre way to end a book?” Freddy said.

  “Well, the whole book is bizarre,” Elizabeth said. “Why would the ending be any different?” A thought came to her that it wasn’t right of her to talk about the book in this way, to dismiss it so.

  “No, think about it,” Freddy said. “The author makes a big deal about codes in the book itself, and then he ends by talking about keys and unlocking secrets. Does it seem to you that he’s trying to make some kind of point?”

  “Or maybe it’s just the way he writes,” Elizabeth said. “I don’t know. I just think it’s more proof that the book is connected to Nestor’s painting somehow.”

  “But how could it be?” Freddy said. “I don’t get it.”

  “It’s an interesting book, for sure,” Elizabeth said. A thought came to her. “Hey, look at the page near the front with the ‘TH’ in silver letters. I can’t figure out what that means.”

  Freddy was silent for a moment as Elizabeth continued to look through the peephole. “I don’t see what you’re talking about,” he said.

  “Here, I’ll show you.” She put a hand out and, once Freddy had given her the book, she kept one eye at the peephole as she opened to the page near the front where she’d noticed the silver letters. When she saw what was written there, though, she almost allowed the book to fall to the floor: To Elizabeth’s amazement, the word “THE” was now at the center of the page.

  “What in the world!” she said, pulling her face away from the door. “That’s impossible!”

  “What?” Freddy said, staring at the page. “I don’t see anything.”

  “The word ‘THE’ in big silver letters,” Elizabeth said, pointing to it. “You don’t see that?”

  Freddy peered at the page again and shook his head. “I just see the author’s name and the year.”

  Elizabeth held the book up to her face and studied the page carefully, wondered if perhaps the letters might shimmer in and out of view or maybe were written with some special sort of ink. “That’s the strangest thing,” she said. “Yesterday it was just a ‘TH,’ and the day before that it was just a ‘T.’ You don’t see it?”

  Freddy took the book and moved it around just as Elizabeth had, tried to examine it from various angles. He shrugged. “Nothing,” he said.

  The patter of footsteps in the hallway sounded, suddenly, and Elizabeth returned to the peephole. Her arms and legs went stiff. “There he is!” she whispered. “Norbridge! There he is!”

  “You saw him?” Freddy said.

  She backed away from the door and stepped off the chair. “I did. Let’s give it about ten minutes.” She pointed to the book Freddy still held. “I don’t understand what’s going on with those letters in there and why you can’t see them.”

  Freddy shrugged and handed the book to Elizabeth, who opened it up and examined the page again, shaking her head and frowning.

  “Maybe we can figure it out later,” Freddy said. He seemed to want to discuss something else. “You know, I’ve been thinking, and I don’t know if I want to go spy on Norbridge.”

  Elizabeth set the book down. “We went over this before! It’s not spying. It’s figuring out a puzzle.” As she said the words, she had a feeling she was being a touch too bossy. “I mean, I understand what you’re saying, but we agreed to investigate, right?”

  Freddy took a piece of paper from Elizabeth’s desk and began to write on it as she paced the room, her mind still puzzling over the strange letters in the book. After a few minutes, during which neither of them spoke, Freddy said, “Word ladder time!”

  Elizabeth glanced at the clock beside her bed. “This has to be really fast.”

  “‘Look’ is the first word,” Freddy said, ignoring her. “As in ‘Two young spies in Room 213 are probably making a mistake by wanting to look into things in the library.’”

  “I get it! Keep going.”

  “If you fix dinner from scratch, you like to…”

  “Cook!”

  “And if you’re a chicken, you live in a…”

  “Coop!”

  “And if you’re that same chicken, someday someone is going to give your head a…”

  “Chop!”

  “And if you go to the store with a credit card, you intend to…”

  “Shop!”

  “And if you are a nearly-world-famous inventor who isn’t sure it’s the right thing to do to go spy on the owner of Winterhouse in the library late at night, you might tell your friend that the two of you should…”

  “Not stop!” Elizabeth said. She gave out a groan of exasperation. “Freddy! We agreed!”

  He examined the paper in his hand. “I know. Still.”

  * * *

  Five minutes later, Elizabeth and Freddy walked silently down the corridor and then found themselves standing in front of the library doors. They each looked through a window on either side of the doors, but they could see
nothing within, no flashlights and no one moving about.

  “What should we do?” Freddy whispered. “It doesn’t look like anyone’s in there.”

  “We need to go in,” Elizabeth said.

  “Maybe we should just head back to your room.”

  “Don’t be a scaredy-cat,” Elizabeth said as she reached for the door handle. “Let’s go inside. Then we can see what he’s doing.”

  “Very late to be visiting the library,” someone behind them said softly, and Elizabeth nearly screamed.

  When she turned around, the woman in black—the wife of Marcus Q. Hiems—stood staring at her and Freddy.

  “You scared us!” Elizabeth said, but the woman—dressed in black just as she’d been on the other occasions Elizabeth had seen her—merely stood looking at her with a smile so thin and tight it seemed she was proud to have frightened them. Her eyes were piercing.

  “We haven’t actually met,” the woman said, “though, of course, I saw you on the bus the other day. My name is Selena Hiems. I believe you have met my husband, Marcus.”

  “Do … do … you know her?” Freddy said awkwardly. He was staring at Selena Hiems, though it wasn’t clear to whom he was speaking.

  “Do I know Elizabeth?” Selena said quickly. “I do. The reader,” she added, with a strange nod at Elizabeth.

  “Um, we couldn’t sleep,” Elizabeth said. “So we came down here…” She felt tongue-tied. She can’t scare me, Elizabeth told herself.

  “I couldn’t sleep, either,” Selena said. “So I thought I would come here and see if I could find a book.” She smiled; her eyes gleamed. “You know, I thought I heard you say something about wanting to see what he was doing. I wonder who you were talking about.” Selena glared at Elizabeth, waited for her to speak.

  Despite her nervousness, Elizabeth looked more closely at what Selena Hiems was wearing. Under her black jacket she wore a satiny black dress and a vest with strange patterns on it—something that reminded Elizabeth of the hieroglyphs she’d seen in pictures from ancient Egypt.

  “It was nothing,” Freddy said, his voice quavering. “I just wanted to talk to Norbridge. That’s all.”

  Selena looked past them through the glass windows. “And he’s in there?” she said curiously. “Hmm.” And then she threw her head back and gave out a musical little laugh. “Well, I would be careful.” She held up a hand and pointed vaguely with her thin finger.

  “About what?” Elizabeth said, prepared to hear the same story about Norbridge that Marcus had told her.

  Selena pursed her lips. “I’ll tell you something, because it’s clear the two of you are smart children, and it concerns me that you were looking for Norbridge at this late hour.”

  “What concerns you about that?” Elizabeth said. She was beginning to become more annoyed than alarmed. “Do you mean the story about him being a book thief?”

  Selena Hiems inhaled deeply, but she didn’t seem flustered at all by Elizabeth’s words. “I would just suggest that you … be careful around him. I’ll leave it at that. Just be mindful. I’m aware of some things about him.”

  “He seems totally fine as far as I can tell,” Elizabeth said.

  “Yeah,” Freddy said, his voice steady now. “He’s about the nicest person I know, and I’ve known him for a few years.”

  “Sometimes you can’t tell with people,” Selena Hiems said. “I’d feel awful if anything happened to you. Like with his wife. The only woman here to die so early, the poor dear. Very strange incident. Suspicious.”

  Elizabeth felt something like a shock of electricity go through her. She had to admit it had been odd to her that Norbridge’s wife seemed to be the first woman at Winterhouse who had not lived to one hundred. “What are you trying to say?”

  Selena Hiems leaned forward. “I am saying: Be very careful here at Winterhouse.” Her final word ended with a low hiss.

  Elizabeth glanced behind Selena Hiems and into the empty corridor. “Well, we should probably get going,” she said. “The doors are locked anyway.” She looked to Freddy. “I guess we struck out. You can find Norbridge tomorrow.” She reached to her neck and clutched at her pendant.

  Selena Hiems stood silently, her eyes bright. It seemed she was not going to move. “My dear,” she said. She craned her neck and looked at what Elizabeth was holding as though she’d spied a mouse in her hands. “What sort of beautiful necklace do you have there?”

  Elizabeth slowly turned the pendant over. “It’s just a necklace I like to wear,” she said. “My mother gave it to me.”

  Selena Hiems looked like someone who had discovered a rare flower. “Very lovely,” she said in a warm voice. “And such a coincidence.” Her voice became cold. “My mother used to love necklaces, too.” And just as she reached her hand out as if to pluck the pendant from Elizabeth’s neck, the library doors opened and there stood Norbridge Falls and Leona Springer.

  “What in the world is going on here?” Norbridge said as Selena Hiems pulled her hand back.

  CHAPTER 20

  A NEARLY FORGOTTEN STORY

  STORE

  STARE

  STARS

  SEARS

  HEARS

  HEIRS

  Fifteen minutes later, after Norbridge had explained to Selena Hiems that the library was closed and she departed with a silent nod, Elizabeth and Freddy found themselves being given a tour of Norbridge’s living quarters by both Norbridge and Leona. The place was a marvel, a vast spread of five rooms overstuffed with furniture and photographs and paintings and books and knickknacks from the many decades of the Falls family’s residence at Winterhouse. There was an enormous dining room and living room, with bookcases and cabinets, chandeliers, and huge winter-mountain murals on the walls; there were three bedrooms, furnished like mountain lodges and brightened with Christmas-colored curtains and graceful lamps and gilded mirrors; a den with a rolltop desk and stately bureaus, and walls lined with bookshelves. In fact, shelves—some with books and some with piles of antiques and boxes and jars—stood along almost every wall in every single room.

  Now that the tour was over, however, the two children were sitting on a sofa, sipping chamomile tea, while Leona and Norbridge settled themselves on a sofa of their own. Norbridge was stroking his beard and seemed to be trying to figure out what it was he wanted to say.

  “So, just what were you two doing up at such a late hour,” Norbridge asked, “discussing whatever it was you were discussing in front of the library with a guest like Selena Hiems? It’s quite a mystery to me.”

  Freddy was about to say something, but Elizabeth looked to him and lifted her hand. Whatever explaining needed to be done would have to come from her, she realized, and she decided the main thing now was to tell the truth. She stared at the ornately carpeted floor.

  “It was my idea,” Elizabeth said, her gaze shifting from the floor to Freddy and then back to the floor. “I don’t really know what I was thinking or what I thought was going on, but on my first night here, just sort of by accident, I saw you, Norbridge, through the library windows looking at the books with a flashlight. Then I came down here the next night and came inside the library, and I saw you and Leona looking again and talking about Selena Hiems and her husband.” She looked up. “I should have said something, and I’m really sorry about it! But I got scared and didn’t know what to do so I stayed quiet. I thought you’d get mad.”

  “You see?” Norbridge said, looking to Leona and pinching his own ear with a couple of rough tugs. “My hearing’s better than yours. I knew I heard something that night.” He turned back to Elizabeth and scowled. “Anyway, all right, so you were spying on me.”

  She shook her head. “No, no, no! I was just curious, is all. And then the last two nights I was looking through my peephole and I saw you going back to the library.”

  “So you decided that tonight you would figure out what I was doing,” Norbridge said. He pointed to Freddy. “With your partner in crime.” He leaned forward, t
ilting slowly toward the two children. “A regular Bonnie and Clyde. A Hansel and Gretel! A Batman and Robin! A Calvin and Hobbes! A Jack and—”

  “Norbridge,” Leona said gently, placing a hand on his forearm. “Please, you’re getting carried away.”

  He sat back on the sofa and folded his arms. “I’m sorry. Go on.”

  Freddy put his hands up and began to speak, but Elizabeth cut him off. “I talked him into it,” she said. “I’m the one who started all this, and I’m sorry.” She set her hands in her lap and looked at them.

  “You could have just asked, you know,” Leona said.

  Elizabeth looked up, but only at her teacup. “I probably should have.” She glanced at Norbridge. “I was just curious about why you were going to the library every night. And, well…” She wanted desperately at that moment to trust Norbridge, but doubts still troubled her. “Are you a book thief?” she blurted out.

  “A what?” Norbridge said, confusion tightening his face. He looked to Leona. “Thick beef? What did she say? A book thief? Me?”

  Leona began to laugh. “This gentleman here has never stolen so much as an extra cookie, as far as I know,” she said to Elizabeth. “Why are you asking if he’s a book thief?”

  “It’s what Marcus Q. Hiems told me a couple of days ago,” Elizabeth said. “I’m sorry, Norbridge, but that’s what he said. That you were a book thief and that you kept stolen books in the library.” Setting her front teeth firmly on her bottom lip, she looked to Freddy as if to confirm she wanted to get this fact out in the open once and for all.

  “He said that?” Norbridge asked, and Elizabeth explained, telling him how Marcus Q. Hiems had given her his business card, how strange the couple had been on the bus and upon arrival at Winterhouse, how Sampson had argued with them in the corridor that first night, and how the cleaning lady had told her they didn’t want anyone in their room. Leona’s face became stony as she listened, and Norbridge looked a shade or two more severe. Elizabeth felt bad about upsetting the two of them with all these troubling facts, but now that she’d started, she wanted to explain all she had learned about the Hiemses.