The Secret (Seacliff High Mystery Book 1) (5 page)

“I’m in too,” Trevor added.

“Me too,” Eli piped in. “This has actually been really fun, and after finding the painting I’m curious about what else we might find.”

“We probably shouldn’t mention the painting to anyone at this point,” Trevor suggested. “If people found out there might be valuable objects in the house it could provide a security risk, and with Alyson and her mom out here in the middle of nowhere with no one else around . . .”

“You’ve got a good point,” Mac agreed. “For now, let’s just keep the whole project to ourselves. And maybe we shouldn’t mention old Barkley’s visit to Alyson either. The idea of a real ghost is bound to attract a lot of attention.”

“So how’d your day go?” Mom inquired from behind her as the group drove away. “Did you get the room cleared out?”

“Not even close.” Alyson moaned as she leaned back into her mom for support.

Alyson’s mom wrapped her arms around her from behind.

“I’d say we’re halfway through,” Alyson continued.

“I’m about halfway through with the painting and wallpapering in the two bedrooms. They look really nice, though. Want to see?’

“Sure,” Alyson said, standing up straight. “I love the colors I picked out. I can’t wait to see how everything turns out. I think I’ll get matching curtains, and maybe a new duvet.”

“I think you’ll be pleased,” her mom answered, leading her by the hand up the stairs. “The furniture we ordered should be here any day.”

“Oh, Mom, it’s great!” Alyson exclaimed, walking into the freshly painted room. “I thought you said you were only half-done, though. Looks done to me.”

“I am only half-done. I just did your half first.”

“You’re the best mom ever.” Alyson hugged her mom tight. “I love the way the blue in the wallpaper blends with the light gray paint. I saw some curtains in Portland the other day that would match perfectly. Maybe I’ll get some contrasting throw pillows for the bed. You know; blue, gray, blue, gray.”

“I get it.” Her mom laughed. “I’m glad you like the room. I want you to feel comfortable and at home in this house.”

“I’m feeling snuggly already. Let’s go look at your room, and then I have something to show you upstairs. I think you’ll be surprised.”

“That’s a Monet,” her mom trilled a few minutes later, after Alyson had led her upstairs to see the painting. “You found this in the attic?”

“Yup, buried under a pile of junk.”

“Who would store a painting of this value underneath a pile of junk?”

“It’s obvious Barkley wasn’t all that stable, and who knows about the generations preceding him?” Alyson turned off the light in the room where they were storing the more valuable finds and started down the stairs, “The gang and I are going to do some research on the family and its history to try to find out if the rumor about Barkley having a child is true. If there is an heir it’d be nice to find him or her.”

“Well, good luck with the digging, but be careful. Your insatiable curiosity has gotten you into quite a lot of trouble in the past.”

“I know, Mom.” Alyson squeezed her hand. “Don’t worry. I’ll be careful. I promise. Mom? Do you believe in ghosts?”

As promised, the gang showed up bright and early the next morning. “Muffins, anyone?” Alyson asked as they filed in through the kitchen door. “Blueberry. Homemade from a box.”

“I’ll take one,” Trevor said, grabbing two.

Alyson set the plate of muffins beside the pitcher of orange juice on the kitchen table.

“Did you get a chance to go through any of the papers last night?” Mac asked, sitting down at the table and pouring herself a glass of the fresh-squeezed juice.

“No. I took the three most promising-looking boxes down to my room, but then my mom suggested we go into town for dinner, and by the time we got back I was so tired I just went to bed.”

“After Eli found the painting yesterday, I was so jazzed to continue the hunt for buried treasure I could barely sleep at all.” Mac picked at her muffin.

“Yeah,” Trevor agreed. “I just know today we’re going to find a lot more interesting things than we did yesterday.”

“Well, let’s get to it, then.” Alyson picked up a muffin for the road and headed toward the stairs leading to the attic.

“I can’t wait to see what’s under those sheets.” Alyson turned her head to speak to the party behind her as she made the long climb up the four flights. “At the very least there should be some old furniture, and maybe some family pic . . .” She stopped dead at the top of the stairs, letting her last sentence dangle.

“What the . . .”

“Oh my God,” Mac screeched from beside her. “What happened?”

“Did you come back up here last night after we left?” Trevor asked.

When they’d left the attic the previous night the things that hadn’t yet been sorted had been stacked in the back of the room. Now, everything had been moved to the sides, with a path carved out in the center. Some of the furniture that had still been covered with sheets the previous evening was now bare. It was obvious someone had been in there.

“No.” Alyson stepped a little farther into the room and stared in shocked silence.

“Maybe your mom?” Trevor suggested.

“No, she was as exhausted as I was and went straight to bed when we got home.”

“Did you hear anything strange last night?” Trevor questioned. “Like someone moving around up here?”

“No. Like I said, I was really exhausted, but I didn’t hear anything.”

“Maybe you should go ask your mom if she did,” Trevor advised.

“Can’t.” Alyson walked farther into the room, continuing to stare at the sight that had greeted them. “She went into Portland to order some stuff for the bedrooms she’s remodeling.”

“Okay, if you didn’t come up here last night and we assume your mom didn’t either, who did?” Trevor wondered.

“It’s obvious someone moved everything all around.” Eli examined a large trunk sitting toward the front of the room that hadn’t been there the day before.

“I think there are really only three possibilities,” Mac commented. “Either Alyson’s mom did come up here at some point,” Mac held up one finger, “or someone broke in at some point and moved everything around.” Finger number two was raised. “Or Barkley either didn’t like us moving his stuff around yesterday or he wanted us to hurry up and find the trunk.” A third finger completed the countdown. “All of this furniture was buried in the back of the room,” she added, walking farther into the room. “It must have taken someone hours to move all this stuff.”

“Even if Alyson’s mom did come up here, I doubt she moved this trunk. It probably weighs several hundred pounds.” Eli tried to give the trunk a shove and it barely moved. “And although the ghost idea sounds kind of cool, I don’t think ghosts can move things. That leaves the break-in theory.”

“This is too weird.” Alyson shuddered, moving closer for a better look at the trunk.

“Has any of the stuff we moved into the room downstairs been disturbed?” Mac asked, peeking around the corner of the very old-looking bureau she’d been examining.

“I don’t know. Let’s check,” Alyson said, standing up from her squatting position in front of the chest.

The third to the top stair squeaked loudly four times as each of them traveled over it to the floor below. “You’d think you would have heard that if someone went up the stairs after you went to bed,” Mac observed.

“I doubt it. I was pretty tired.”

No one said anything as they stared into the room on the third floor. The contents of all of the boxes had been strewn around the floor.

“I’d say someone was looking for something,” Eli observed.

“Yeah, but who? And when?” Alyson wondered.

“Maybe while you were in town for dinner,” Trevor ventured. “Or maybe after you went to bed.”

Alyson shuddered again at the thought that someone might have been in the house while she slept in the bedroom below.

Mac picked up a pile of the tossed papers. “I wonder what they were looking for. And even more important, I wonder if they found it?”

“There’s really no way to tell if anything was taken,” Eli added.

“They left the painting,” Mac noted. “Whoever did this was obviously after something specific. A random thief would have taken the painting for sure.”

“Unless they didn’t know anything about art and didn’t realize the painting’s possible value,” Alyson postulated. “Let’s look around upstairs to see what we find. We won’t know if anything’s missing because we have no idea what was up there, but at least we can see if whoever broke in left anything of value behind. What he didn’t take might give us a clue as to what he was after.”

They headed back upstairs and spent the next several hours sifting through the remainder of the attic’s contents. They uncovered several boxes of children’s toys that appeared to be quite old; a variety of dishes and other kitchen items of varying age and state of repair; clothing that looked like it might have dated back to the turn of the century or even earlier; additional artwork; and quite a few pieces of old furniture Alyson was sure would produce a tidy sum on the antiques market. And of course there was the trunk, which they managed to shove over to the wall by the door. It appeared to be fairly old, and the workmanship was quite fine, so they decided to do a thorough search of the house to see if they could find the key before resorting to destroying the lock.

With everything sorted and moved into the room below except for the trunk, which was too heavy to move, they headed downstairs for a well-deserved lunch break.

Alyson created a sort of make-your-own-sandwich bar on the counter from the hodge-podge of ingredients available in the refrigerator, and the hungry teens helped themselves to heaping plates of food, then gathered around the table to eat.

“Maybe you should call the police,” Trevor said after taking several large bites of his ham sandwich.

“No!” Alyson barked. “I mean, I don’t really think that’s necessary,” she added in a more controlled voice.

“It does look like someone may have broken in here sometime last night,” Mac said persuasively.

“Possibly, but we don’t know for sure, and it looks like the intruder was looking for something pretty specific because there were tons of really valuable things left totally undisturbed. Maybe he found what he was looking for and that’s the end of it.”

“Yeah, but what if he comes back? It’s only you and your mom out here all alone,” Mac argued. “You don’t even have any neighbors within shouting distance.”

“I appreciate your concern, but we’ll be fine. Really.” All Alyson needed at this point was to draw attention to herself with the local authorities. Not very stealthy. Her mom was going to totally freak when she heard what had happened.

“I really think we’re better off keeping this between us for now. If we go to the cops the story will end up in the newspaper, and then the whole town will know there’s a bunch of valuable stuff out here. We might end up with more potential prowlers than if we just keep quiet.”

“Yeah, I guess,” Mac agreed tentatively, still doubtful.

“At least let me shore up your nonexistent security,” Trevor insisted. “A two year old could pick the lock on the kitchen door and the lock on the window over the sink is totally broken. Anyone could walk in here at any time with little trouble and no warning.”

“You might have a point there.” Alyson nodded.

“Eli and I will go into town after lunch and get some supplies, then come back out and secure this place the best we can before we leave tonight.”

“You should get a dog,” Mac advised. “A really big dog. At least no one could sneak up on you.”

A dog. Alyson considered the idea. She’d always wanted a dog, but before this she’d lived in an apartment. A dog would be fun. “I’ll ask my mom,” she said, warming up to the idea.

After lunch the boys went into town for supplies and the girls stayed behind to clean up.

“So what are you planning to wear to the dance on Saturday night?” Alyson asked Mac as they worked together to wash the lunch dishes. “You said it was casual, but what exactly does that mean?”

“Anything goes really,” Mac answered. “Jeans, cords, skirts, sweaters, tanks. The only requirement is that you wear some combination of the school colors.”

“Which are?”

“Royal blue and gray.”

“Sounds doable.”

“Sometimes people dress up like the school mascot, which is a pirate, but I guarantee Chelsea will be the only one there in formal wear, if she does indeed go that route.”

“She really goes overboard in the trying-to-impress department.”

“You can say that again. It’s all about her hair, her figure, her clothes, and of course her popularity. If everyone doesn’t totally adore her at all times or anyone does anything that might interfere in any way with said adoration, she totally goes into hysterics.” Mac wiped the counter free of crumbs. “During cheerleading tryouts last year this poor girl, who truly had no coordination whatsoever, accidentally tripped Chelsea during the group routine, causing her to fall on her perky little behind. Chelsea went ballistic, threatening the girl with all kinds of nasty outcomes if her little blunder in any way kept her from making the team. Luckily, Chelsea made the team anyway, and as far as I know the girl dropped out of the competition and faded into the woodwork, like the rest of us mere mortals.”

“She must be really insecure to feel she has to try so hard,” Alyson observed.

“Maybe.” Mac considered that possibility. “Up to this point I just figured she was born with an extra dose of the bitch gene, but you might have a point. I mean, it must be exhausting to be her. All that waxing, bleaching, tanning, and buffing she does. Not to mention the hours she spends painting on that face every morning. And Samantha Jones told me she takes a spinning class every morning before school.”

“Wow.” Alyson was impressed at her commitment. “Who knew beauty could take so much work?”

“You’re quite the looker yourself,” Mac observed, “and I don’t see you doing all that.”

“Thanks for the compliment, but I’m not in the same league as Chelsea.”

“You’re kidding, right? You don’t have to go all modest with me. Every girl in the whole school pretty much hated you on sight, with your perfect silky blond hair, long legs, and absence of even the slightest trace of fat cells.”

“Every girl in the whole school hates me?”

“Don’t worry. I was just making a point.” Mac laughed. “Most of the girls don’t even know you, and those who do adore you. Well, except possibly for Chelsea. But she’s just jealous. You must realize that without even trying, you pose a big threat in the boyfriend market.”

“Thanks; I adore you too,” Alyson echoed, deciding to steer the conversation away from her looks and on to something more interesting, like friendship. “I can’t tell you how much I value the friendship I’ve developed with you and Trevor and Eli. I was a little worried coming to a new school that’s so vastly different from anything I’m used to, that I wouldn’t fit in.”

“Seacliff High can’t be that much different from high schools in Minnesota. It’s not like you’re from Los Angeles or New York or something,”

“True.” Alyson quickly crossed her fingers. “It’s just that any time you do something new, it’s different.”

“I guess,” Mac agreed. “I heard a car pull up out front. Maybe it’s the boys.”

“We’re back,” Eli greeted them, coming in first through the kitchen door.

“Let’s get to work,” Trevor said. “We have a lot of ground to cover and not much time.”

“I’ll start at the front of the house,” Eli volunteered.

The group worked amicably for the reminder of the afternoon, and by the time everyone left at around six o’clock the house was locked up tighter than Fort Knox.

Of course Alyson would have to explain the reason for the increased security to her mom when she returned from Portland, and while she was less than thrilled and more than a little concerned, to say the least, she agreed it was best to keep things quiet, and a very large, very loud dog was a most excellent idea.

That night Alyson sorted through the first three boxes of papers in her room. There were a lot of old receipts, newspaper clippings, and bank records. Most of the information seemed insignificant, but she took a closer look at the bank statements, spreading them out on her bed. “Okay, Barkley. What am I looking for?”