Mystery at the Washington Monument (2 page)

Butch pulled a cheese sandwich and a bottle of juice from the bag. He took a big bite of the sandwich. “So you saw lights in the windows last night?” he asked as he chewed.

KC nodded. “We were having a sleep-out on the White House lawn,” she told him.

Butch stopped eating. The look on his
face changed. “You slept on the White House lawn?” he asked.

Marshall laughed. “She’s telling the truth,” he said. “The president is her stepfather.”

“Oh yeah, I read the presidents new wife had a daughter,” Butch said, tipping his sandwich toward KC. “And you’re her!”

“I’m her,” KC said. “My name is Katherine Christine Corcoran, but everyone calls me KC.”

“And I’m Marshall Li,” Marshall said.

Butch nodded. “I’m Lloyd Emerick, but you can call me Butch.” He set his sandwich on the bag and wiped his mouth on a paper napkin. “I think someone was inside the Monument last night. This morning, I found some small pieces of plaster on the floor,” he said.

“Maybe someone was trying to steal a memorial stone!” KC said.

Butch shook his head. “That would be impossible,” he said. “The stones are really big and heavy. They’re also concreted into the walls.”

Butch sipped some juice. “There’s something else weird,” he said after a minute. “I heard an awful screeching sound this morning. It was like a big bird.” Butch laughed. “I was pretty spooked,” he said. “I don’t believe in ghosts, but you never know.”

KC remembered the glowing lights. She didn’t believe in ghosts either, and she’d never heard of a bird that glowed in the dark!

“Could we see that stuff you found?” she asked.

“Yeah, I guess it would be okay,” Butch said. “Come on.”

The ranger bagged his snack and led the kids to a small room inside the Monument. He unlocked the door. There was a workbench in the middle of the room, and shelves lined all the walls. The shelves held cans of paint, cleaning supplies, and tools.

On the bench was a small pile of broken plaster. KC picked up one of the pieces. It was white on one side and gray on the other. “Where did you find it?” she asked.

Butch pointed toward the ceiling. “Up there, a few hundred steps,” he said. “Feel like doing some climbing?”

“Sure!” Marshall said.

KC put the plaster piece in her pocket.
Butch unlocked the gate to the stairs. The Monuments inside walls were on their left as they climbed. A metal railing was opposite the walls.

Marshall stopped and stared up into the darkness. “How many stairs are there altogether?” he asked.

“Eight hundred and ninety-seven,” Butch said. “In the old days, before the elevator was put in, a lot of tourists tried to walk up. Some of them gave up and turned around.”

The kids climbed the first of many flights. They were able to look at some of the memorial stones up close. KC paused in front of a four-foot-long stone with the word
Maine
carved into its surface. Smaller carvings of animals and trees surrounded the state’s name.

“That one is granite,” Butch said. “See what I mean about how big these are? Of course, some are smaller. But they’re all at least a foot thick. Trust me, without dynamite, no one is getting one of these babies out of here!”

They moved on. After climbing for five more minutes, they stopped. “I found the pieces right here,” Butch said. He pointed to the floor.

Over the spot was a stone that said STATE OF WASHINGTON. Each letter was as big as KC’s hand.

“What’s this?” Marshall said, bending down. He picked up a peanut shell.

“I didn’t see that before,” Butch said.

Marshall checked for a trash can but didn’t see one. He dropped the peanut shell into his pocket.

KC looked up at the stone from Washington State. “It’s huge!” she said.

“Yep, this one is about four feet wide and two feet high,” Butch said.

KC stood on her tiptoes to get a better view. “I think something is wrong with one of the letters,” she said. “See the
o
in
Washington?
It’s black, and the rest of the letters are gray.”

Butch peered up at the letter. “I’ll be darned,” he said. “It looks like there’s a hole where the
o
should be!”

“Maybe that’s what the plaster came from,” KC said.

“I’ll have to get my boss,” Butch said.

He left the kids and hoofed it down the way they’d just come.

KC was staring up at the Washington State memorial stone when Butch came
back. He was out of breath and carrying a small ladder. Behind him was another park ranger. He had short gray hair and a pointy nose.

Butch leaned the ladder against the wall. “Kids, this is my boss, Dr. Grift,” Butch said. “Boss, this is KC and Marshall. KC is the presidents stepdaughter!”

“How do you do?” Dr. Grift said. “Now what’s this about the Washington stone?”

KC pointed up at the letter
o.

Dr. Grift looked up. “How odd,” he said. “Butch, please climb up there and examine the stone.”

Butch climbed to the top rung of the ladder. “Boss, there’s a round hole cut right into the stone!” he said.

“A hole?” Dr. Grift said. “What kind of hole? Is there anything in it?”

Butch poked a finger into the hole. “Nothing but a few pieces of plaster,” he said. He climbed down the ladder and showed them what he had found.

“That’s the same kind of plaster you found on the floor, right?” Marshall said.

KC dug the other plaster bit from her pocket. “They
are
the same,” she said.

“This is very distressing,” Dr. Grift said. “Damaged memorial stones in the Washington Monument!”

Just as Dr. Grift spoke, something fell
on Marshall’s head. He reached up and pulled a peanut shell from his hair.

“Where did that come from?” KC asked him.

“Another peanut shell!” Butch said.

“Now what?” Dr. Grift sighed.

They all looked up.

“Oh my gosh!” KC cried. Twenty feet above their heads, a small brown monkey sat perched on the railing. It had a long tail, tiny hands, and a round, curious face. The monkey stared down at them, blinking its shiny black eyes.

“Is that what I think it is?” Butch asked.

“It’s a monkey!” yelled Marshall.

“I don’t believe this,” moaned Dr. Grift. “What’s a monkey doing in the Washington Monument?”

“Beats me, Boss,” Butch said.

They were all quiet for a moment.

“Should we try to catch him?” KC asked.

“I wish I had a banana,” Marshall said.

The monkey began making chirping noises. Suddenly it leaped twenty feet down and landed on Butch’s chest. Butch looked totally surprised. He petted the monkey gently while it snuggled into his shirt.

“We can’t have a monkey living in the Monument!” Dr. Grift said. His face had turned red.

“I know, Boss,” Butch said. “I wonder how it got in here!”

“Perhaps some tourist snuck it in,” Dr. Grift said. “But that doesn’t matter. It has to leave now! Those things have fleas!”

“Most monkeys are very clean,” said Marshall. He petted the monkeys tail.

“Still, the animal has to go,” Dr. Grift insisted.

“I can bring it with me to the White House,” KC said. “The president really likes animals.”

Butch and Dr. Grift looked at KC.

“We already have a dog and three cats,” KC told them.

Dr. Grift rubbed his hands over his face. “Thank you, Miss Thornton,” he said. “If you can take the monkey to the White House, that would be a help.”

“My last name is actually Corcoran,” KC said. She took the monkey from Butch and nestled it in her arms. The monkey didn’t seem afraid. “And I’ll tell the president about the hole in the stone.”

“Um, yes, of course he’ll have to know,” Dr. Grift mumbled.

Butch carried the ladder down the stairs, with Dr. Grift at his heels. KC and Marshall followed them.

“Want to carry him?” KC asked.

“Sure!” Marshall said, reaching his arms out. “Come to Uncle Marshall.” The monkey climbed onto him. It stuck a tiny paw into Marshall’s pocket and pulled out the peanut shell.

He chewed on the empty shell for a few seconds, then spit it out.

When the kids reached the bottom of the stairs, Butch and Dr. Grift were nowhere in sight. The ranger named Opal was leading a group of tourists toward the elevator.

Suddenly the monkey shrieked and
began struggling to get out of Marshall’s arms.

The tourists looked up. “Look, a monkey!” one of them cried.

“Why is there a monkey in the Washington Monument?” another tourist asked.

“Please step into the elevator,” Opal said.

They stepped in, the door closed, and KC heard the whirring sound as the elevator rose.

Marshall stroked the monkeys back. “He’s trembling,” Marshall said. “I guess he doesn’t like tourists.”

“Come on,” KC said. “Let’s take him home. And we have to name him. We can’t just call him Monkey!”

“Any ideas?” Marshall asked.

“Yeah. Let’s call him Marshall,” KC teased.

“Very funny,” Marshall said. “But I think we should name him Washington.”

KC smiled. “Excellent!” she said.

KC and Marshall walked back to the White House.

“Come on, Marsh, let’s go online and find out what kind of monkey Washington is,” KC said when they were inside.

“He’s a spider monkey,” Marshall said.

KC laughed. “Of course you’d think that,” she said. Marshall loved anything with more than four legs—bugs, spiders, you name it.

“No, really! They’re called spider monkeys because they have long, skinny legs like spiders,” he told KC. “They eat fruit and insects.”

The kids went to KC’s room. Marshall put the monkey on the bed. Right away Washington hopped off and began exploring. He picked up things, tasted them, shook them, smacked them together.

KC sat down and turned on the computer. Over her desk was a framed map of Washington, D.C. Marshall pulled up a second chair. “Should I search for all monkeys?” she asked Marshall.

“Naw, there are too many different kinds,” he said. “Why not type in
spider monkey
and see what you get?”

In a few seconds, they were looking at a Web site about spider monkeys. There was a picture of a monkey that looked exactly like Washington.

“You were right, Marsh,” KC said.

“Told you so,” Marshall said with a grin.

Both kids read the page silently. “It says spider monkeys can even grab things with their tails!” KC said.

Marshall pointed to the screen. “Look, if you click on that button, we can hear what spider monkeys sound like,” he said.

“Cool!” KC clicked the mouse, and the room filled with chirping and squeaking noises. Washington leaped through the air and landed on the desk. He put his tiny hands on the computer and listened. His eyes were wide. He began to make his own squeaky noises.

KC clicked again, and the monkey sounds went away. “I don’t want him to get sad,” she told Marshall. “He probably thought he was back home again.”

Washington stood on his back legs and rested his front paws on the framed map.
He put his nose against the glass where the word
WASHINGTON
was printed in block letters.

“Look! He can read his name!” KC joked.

“Ha-ha,” Marshall said. “Why—”

SMASH!

Marshall and KC whipped around.

Washington was holding a paperweight in both hands. He had smacked it against the map. The glass had cracked.

“Washington, no!” KC said. She took the paperweight away from him. “Bad monkey!”

“Gee, maybe he doesn’t like his name after all,” Marshall said.

Washington tapped on the glass with his paws, over and over.

Marshall picked up Washington and
carried him to the bed. The monkey jumped right off and leaped back onto KC’s desk. He again began tapping on the map of Washington, D.C.

“Maybe he really
can
read his name,” KC said. She wasn’t joking anymore.

She and Marshall stared at each other for a minute. Could this monkey read?

“I know how we can test him,” Marshall said slowly. “Come on!”

Marshall carried Washington to a hallway where there was no furniture. A red carpet ran the length of the hall. The only objects were pictures on the walls and a long row of statues of past presidents. Each marble statue sat on a pedestal. The president’s name was carved into the base of the statue.

“Okay, I’m going to put him down and
see what he does,” Marshall said. He set Washington on the floor.