Saturday I had to unpack boxes and load closets all morning, and after lunch my mom and I cleared all the dead plants out of the greenhouse and swept the floor. It wasn't exactly a party, but it kept me busy.
I was so excited about the first week at Pacific that I couldn't sit still while I waited for the weekend to be over. I had dissected a frog with Dustin Coles, who had picked me to be his partner! I couldn't wait to get back to class to see if he would pay attention to me again. All of my teachers were nice except creepy Mr. Bidden, and I liked all of my classes besides history. I had rubbed the smooth end of the lip gloss tube over my lips several times each day, and unless I was dissecting a frog, I loved it. I'd survived the embarrassing sweater incident, and it seemed like everyone had pretty much forgotten about it.
But there were some major things bothering me: Smack, Sledge, and Ignado snooping around our house trying to beat me to the jewels, and the fact that I couldn't decipher the mysterious drawing on the tattered yellow paper. After lunch I got back to work on the clue.
What could it mean? What did the squares stand for?
But if what if they weren't squares?
Why couldn't I solve for X?
Picturing Grandpa stroking his chin and looking at me thoughtfully, I remembered something he used to say when he'd talk fondly about his partner. Skylar, don't ever be afraid to ask for help if you can't figure something out or accomplish something by yourself. Sometimes two brains are better than one. Asking for backup does not mean you are weak, and refusing to accept help when you need it is just plain foolish.
I logged onto my website and looked under clues to see what my secret agents had come up with. Five of them had posted some amazing guesses:
Water Nymph Agent # 003:
It means 8641 – it might be an address or a secret code number? Or maybe the amount each jewel is worth.
Fire Princess Agent # 005:
U = You
Arrow up = go up the blocks
Blocks = Houses
4 = Number of blocks
So you go up 4 blocks to find the jewels.
Shining Onyx Agent # 007:
You go up 4 times to find the next clue.
Thunder Cloud Agent # 004 and Roaring River Agent # 006:
You need to go up 4 levels for the jewels.
My agents were rocking the clues, but the information still seemed incomplete. I grabbed my cell, photographed the clue, and emailed it to Alexa with a message asking if she could help me decode it. She might not read very well, but she can look at a picture or a diagram and figure out what it means in seconds. Alexa always beats me at video games too; she can find her way out of a maze in a fraction of the time it takes me. And if I was going to find Xandra's jewelry box before Smack's crew did, I needed all the help I could get.
Before I could decide what to do next I heard the ear-splitting noise of Harleys ripping up our steep winding hill. Flattening myself against the wall and peeking out my window, I looked toward the street. But I couldn't see anything beyond the side yard. Suddenly the bikes' motors stopped revving and the street went quiet. Then I heard the heavy crunching of boots on concrete.
Crew Gang was back.
But why? They didn't work on Saturdays.
They walked through the gate and marched toward the greenhouse. Grabbing my Soundtrap, I cracked my window open and pointed the thin microphone down toward the side of the yard they were heading for. First thing I heard after putting in my earbuds was Smack's squeaky voice barking orders. "Ignado! Pretend you're carrying these behind the shed, an' make a lot of noise dropping them so the dummies think you're busy doing somethin'. Then look inside that shed real good. There's 'apposed to be a clue to the fortune in there."
Hearing that felt like a punch in the stomach. I took out the earbuds and waited while pipes crashed noisily to the ground before I put them back in. How do they know there's a clue in the greenhouse?! I'd already searched it, and cleaned it with my mom, and I didn't find anything but dead plants, spider webs, and dirt. Maybe they're just guessing. And who does he think he is, calling us dummies?
Smack started to turn around so I flattened myself to the floor in case he looked up. I kept the microphone pointed toward them and the next voice I heard was Ignado's. "Ain't nothin' in that hothouse but junk. Let's get outta here." Turning off my Soundtrap, I got to my knees and watched them stomp across the driveway. Then motorcycles roared down our street and disappeared down the hill. They were here and gone within five minutes, marching in and out of our yard like they owned it.
Their visit proved that they were hunting for Xandra's jewels, and somehow they had information I didn't. I had even less time than I thought. And one less clue than I needed. I slipped the tattered paper into my pocket.
Flipping open my iPad cover, I read my detective notes. I was smarter than they were, and had to stick to my original plan. The clues would lead me in the right direction, and I would find what was hidden in the greenhouse if I followed them in the proper order.
There may be a hidden floor.
Hid her jewelry box somewhere on the estate. Whoever is smart and brave enough to follow her clues inherits the jewels.
Find the dumbwaiter.
Locating the dumbwaiter would be my next goal. Running down the stairs, I decided to start searching on the first floor. The kitchen was the most logical place from which to lift meals, so that's where I began.
Both of my parents wanted to keep the antique fixtures, and except for a new dishwasher, garbage disposal, and refrigerator, the kitchen remained as it was a hundred years ago. Thin strips of wood called crown molding decorated the walls where they met the ceiling. A swirling design was carved into the wood, and the crown molding was stained with age. Faded wallpaper with delicate stripes had yellowed so much you could barely see the pattern. The sinks in the kitchen and the butler's pantry had old metal faucets with wing-shaped handles that squeaked when you turned them. All of the cupboards were narrow and had skinny doors. The mismatched handles were pitted with rust and dulled by tarnish. One of the handles was bolted in crooked, and my parents decided to leave it that way.
Shining my penlight into one corner of the kitchen, I got down on my hands and knees and peeked behind the cast iron stove. I ran my fingertips across the baseboards all around the room, searching for anything that was loose or strange in any way.
Nothing.
The room dimmed for a split second as if a shadow had passed by the small window. A chill crept through me. I felt like I was being watched. Had one of Smack's boys sneaked back into our yard to spy on me? One of them was so skinny his pants couldn't stay up. He had wispy yellow hair and pointy cheekbones that poked out of his face like wedges. More than once I'd turned around to find him right behind me. Smack had barked his name in front of me: Dusty. Judging by his sloppy clothes, greasy forehead, and grimy fingernails, his name should have been Dirty.
I twitched and looked up. The window was clear.
Shaking off the creepy feeling, I shined my light up at the ceiling, hoping for another hidden panel like the one I had found in the turret room cupboard. There wasn't one. The ceiling was solid. I let out a long hot breath.
I felt along the wall behind the oven, past the antique telephone that didn't work, and around the corner into the butler's pantry. That's where I stopped. Turning on my big flashlight, I shot the beam past the deep sink and the dishwasher, focusing on the locked door at the end of the room. That had to be where the dumbwaiter was. An idea hit me and I sprinted up the stairs to my parents' bedroom.
My mom was in the closet taking shoes out of a carton. "Hey, Mom? I searched all over the bottom floor and I can't find the dumbwaiter. Have you seen it up here?" On the far side of their bed was a sitting room. I wandered into it and looked around.
"It probably stops in the formal dining room. But I doubt if it works." She stuck her head back into the closet and started to unpack another box.
I ran down the hall and went into the big dining room, and sure enough there was a narrow cupboard in one wall. The door squeaked when I opened it. Sweet. There was a metal contraption inside that looked like a rectangular box, open on the side that faced the door. On one edge a sticker read: WEIGHT LIMIT: 150 POUNDS.
Thick clamps were attached to the top and bottom of the box, with cables threaded through them that led to pulleys. A row of buttons next to the dumbwaiter was numbered 1, 2, 3, and 4.
This house does have four floors, I thought. One of them is a hidden floor!
"Can I see if it works?" I called.
"Sure, I guess," she said, bending over to open another box of shoes.
I pushed the button marked 3 and raced upstairs. Way ahead of Smack's gang on this one.
Ducking into the library down the hall from my bedroom, I ran up to the wall where I figured I would find the dumbwaiter. Sure enough, I spotted a narrow cupboard door. I heard a squeaking noise behind it and opened it up. Moments later the dumbwaiter creaked into view, stopping directly in front of the opening.
"Yes!"
Just like in the dining room, there was a row of buttons next to the dumbwaiter.
1, 2, 3, 4.
I looked up at the ceiling. I thought about the house. My bedroom was on the third floor, and the turret room above it was the highest point on my side of the house. The little attic we used for storage was on the opposite end of the mansion. I remembered noticing the multilevel roof the first time we drove up the hill with Victoria Knight.
"Wait a minute!" I snatched the crumpled clue from my pocket and stared at it, remembering what my agents had posted: You need to go up 4 levels for the jewels.
Suddenly the equation made perfect sense. U + + 4. "You plus up plus four," I breathed. I knew what I had to do. "I have to go up to four."
Racing into my bedroom, I grabbed my Porta-detective kit and ran back to the library. Ripping my penlight out of the kit, I stuck my head into the dumbwaiter and shined the beam all around. I couldn't see anything up or down the shaft past the metal sides of the box. Holding still, I listened hard until I was sure I didn't hear any footsteps on the stairs. My mom wasn't coming. The coast was clear.
I climbed into the dumbwaiter.
Nestling into the metal box, I pulled my feet inside and squirmed around until I was sitting cross-legged in the narrow space. No one much bigger than me would have been able to fit inside the dumbwaiter. Ms. Knight's words rang in my head: "Too small for a person to ride."
Unless that person was a skinny thirteen-year-old.
For a second I got very nervous, imagining all sorts of things that could go wrong. The metal cables holding the dumbwaiter up were old and might be rusty. They could snap in the middle of my ride and I would plunge down three stories, landing in a broken heap at the bottom of the elevator shaft. We could have a power failure and I could get stuck in the little metal box, trapped inside the wall. No one would know where I was or be able to find me. I could starve to death or die of thirst. While I starved to death, the rats that had nibbled the corners of the yellowed envelope could crawl inside the dumbwaiter and feast on me.
I took a deep breath and swallowed my fears. Finding another clue was way too important to chicken out. Reaching my arm outside of the little box, I hit the button marked 4 and ducked my head back inside.
The dumbwaiter started to rise.
Soon I was in pitch black, moving darkness, and my heart began to race. The dumbwaiter screeched and whined carrying my weight, and I started to panic. Turning on my penlight, I gritted my teeth to keep myself from crying out, when suddenly the little elevator slowed and stopped. A narrow door faced me, and I pushed it open and crawled through it.
The carpeted floor creaked beneath my feet as I took a careful step forward. The room was gloomy and painted with tall shadows. It stretched out ahead of me and disappeared around a bend. A little light came in through an air vent on one wall. Looking around with my heart hammering, my eyes finally adjusted to the dimness.
I was on the hidden floor!
I shined my penlight through the shadows. A soft throw rug lay at the foot of an elegant chair that was covered in midnight blue velvet. An old-fashioned floor lamp stood next to it and I turned the switch. It made a loud pop, and I flinched as the bulb lit briefly and burned out. A full-length mirror stood in front of me on a brass stand and my reflection startled me in the flash of light.
Turning around in a slow circle, I shined the narrow penlight beam across the floor. "This was Xandra Collins's secret hideaway," I whispered. Could her jewelry box be hidden up here? I didn't have much time before my mom would notice I was missing. Or before Smack and the smelly boys figured out another way to get up here, right behind me.
The wall closest to me had a shelf bolted to it, full of books sandwiched between decorative bookends. I walked up to the shelf and shined my light on the spines so I could read some of the titles. The Fine Art of Disguise and Other Parlor Tricks. Evading the Media. Into Thin Air. I pulled the books forward and searched the area behind them. Nothing was hidden back there.
There was a brick fireplace in front of the elegant chair. I picked up the poker and dug through half-burned logs and ashes, hoping to find something buried beneath them, but there was nothing but soot. I turned to face the open part of the room, wishing I'd brought my jumbo flashlight with me.
There have to be clues up here!
Hurrying across the room, I aimed my penlight beam up and down the walls and over big oil paintings in heavy gold frames. Xandra Collins liked seascapes and moonlit forests. I peeked behind each painting, hoping to find a safe or a secret hiding spot. The walls behind them were solid. Blank. Empty.
Next I walked around a corner into another part of the floor. A sewing machine sat on a table with a little stool in front of it. Colorful bolts of fabric leaned against the wall. I ran my hand over a roll of purple velvet, sending a puff of dust into the air that made me sneeze. In the far end of the sewing area I saw a big pile of boxes, and shined my light on them.
I stared at the pile and a creepy feeling started to come over me.
Something familiar about all those boxes.
I counted them.
There were nine on the bottom row.