Beware the Pirate Ghost
Read Beware the Pirate Ghost Online
Authors: Joan Lowery Nixon
Casebusters #7
Joan Lowery Nixon
For Bridget Elizabeth Quinlan with my love
—J. L. N.
1
B
RIAN AND SEAN WOKE
to a loud pounding on their front door. “Go away! It’s Saturday!” Sean grumbled and stuck his head under the blanket.
But as soon as he heard Brian, Mom, and Dad racing down the stairs, he tumbled out of bed, pulled on his jeans, and ran downstairs, too. Following the sound of voices, he burst into the living room.
A man and a woman were both talking at the same time. The man’s face was red and blotchy, and he waved his arms excitedly. The woman wiped away tears and blew her nose.
Nobody stopped to introduce Sean, but it didn’t matter. He recognized Mr. and Mrs. Kingsley Hopper—parents of the most spoiled seven-year-old brat he and Brian had ever met.
“Lester’s bed had been slept in, and there was no sign of a struggle,” Mr. Hopper shouted.
“You’ve got to help us! You’re a private investigator. You’ve got to find our son!” Mrs. Hopper screeched.
John Quinn raised his voice. “Quiet,
please
,” he said firmly.
Both Hoppers stopped talking and stared at him.
“Please sit down,” Mrs. Quinn said. She led the Hoppers to comfortable chairs and patted Mrs. Hopper’s shoulder in sympathy.
When everyone was seated, Mr. Quinn said, “Let’s start at the beginning. When you discovered your son was missing, did you call the police?”
“Oh, no! We couldn’t!” Mr. Hopper said. “The kidnappers warned us not to.”
Sean poked Brian. “Who’d want Lester?” he whispered.
Mrs. Hopper pulled a folded paper from her handbag. Her fingers trembled as she held it out to Mr. Quinn. “This is the ransom note left by Lester’s kidnappers,” she said.
Brian and Sean jumped up and leaned over their dad’s shoulders to read the note:
YOUR SUN HAS BEEN KIDNAPED. DO NOT GO TO THE POLICE OR YOU’LL NEVER SEE LESTER AGIN. GET A LOT OF MONEY READY. YOU’LL HERE FROM US SOON.
The ransom note was crudely printed, and some of the words were misspelled.
“Any chance Lester wrote this himself?” Sean asked.
Mrs. Hopper gasped. “How can you possibly think that Lester wrote his own ransom note? That’s absurd! Besides, Lester is a very bright boy, way ahead of everyone in his class. He always makes A-plus in spelling.”
“Uh, Mrs. Hopper,” Brian suggested, “Lester might have tried to make the note look like someone else wrote it.”
“Nonsense. What reason would Lester have for pretending to be kidnapped?” Mr. Hopper asked.
Brian shrugged. “Lester might have wanted to throw you off the track while he ran away,” he said. “Didn’t he run away from home last year?”
Mrs. Hopper gasped. “I don’t care what you heard or read about in the newspaper. Lester did not run away. He simply wanted to visit his grandmother.”
“In the middle of the night?” Sean asked.
Mr. Hopper turned so red he looked as if he might explode. “I can’t believe what I’m hearing! Lester is a perfectly well-behaved child.”
“That’s enough, boys. Sit down,” Mr. Quinn warned.
Brian and Sean knew they’d better keep their opinions to themselves, at least for now, so they went back to their chairs.
Mrs. Hopper burst into tears again. “We didn’t tell you about a problem that makes everything much, much worse,” she said. “The cold we thought Lester had … yesterday his doctor found it was a lung infection. He prescribed medication that must be taken regularly or there could be complications.”
“That’s right,” Mr. Hopper said. “Lester had his first dose at nine yesterday morning, and his second at nine last night. He should have another dose within twelve hours—by nine o’clock this morning.”
Everyone turned to look at the clock on the mantel.
“Oh, dear,” Mrs. Quinn murmured. “It’s almost six-thirty.”
Mr. Hopper nodded. “Lester’s doctor said the dose could be delayed a short while, but absolutely no longer than eighteen hours. That means if Lester isn’t found before three o’clock this afternoon, his life will be in danger!”
“Does Lester know this?” Mrs. Quinn asked.
“No,” Mr. Hopper admitted. “Lester gets upset easily, and we didn’t want to frighten him.”
He looked pleadingly at John Quinn. “We’re desperate, John. Please take the case,” he said. “We’re counting on you to find Lester.”
M
RS. QUINN LEFT TO GET
dressed, and Mr. Quinn opened his notebook. Brian and Sean sat very quietly, hoping that no one would notice they were in the room. They wanted to hear the questions their dad would ask the Hoppers, and they especially wanted to hear the answers. “Let’s go over your activities last night,” Mr. Quinn said to Mr. and Mrs. Hopper. “Were there any problems?”
“Oh, no,” Mrs. Hopper said quickly. “None at all,” Mr. Hopper added.
“You gave Lester his medicine?”
“At nine o’clock.”
“Did he take it without complaint?”
Mr. Hopper hesitated. “He didn’t like the taste of the medicine, but …”
Mrs. Hopper interrupted. “He’s a very dear, obedient little boy. He took a spoonful of his medicine. Then I tucked him into bed myself. He smiled and settled down without a fuss.”
Sean glanced at Brian and slowly shook his head. That didn’t sound like the Lester he knew.
“Have you called Lester’s grandmother?” Mr. Quinn asked.
“Yes. She’s the only one we’ve told, besides you. But she hasn’t heard from Lester,” Mr. Hopper said.
Mrs. Hopper clasped her hands to her cheeks. “Why ask about his grandmother?” she cried. “I know! It’s because of what happened last year. You don’t believe that Lester was kidnapped, do you?”
“As a private investigator, I keep an open mind while I collect facts,” Mr. Quinn answered calmly. “I’d like to see Lester’s room and examine your house.”
“The house … yes.” Mr. Hopper gripped the arms of his chair. “We didn’t get around to telling you that Lester’s window was open, and the screen was lying on the ground. Whoever kidnapped Lester must have got in through his bedroom window.”
“I’ll check the windowsill and frame for fingerprints,” Mr. Quinn said, “and the kidnappers’ note, as well.”
He stood up and said to the Hoppers, “Please give me your address and telephone number. I’ll dress and meet you at your house within a half an hour.”
Brian motioned to Sean, and they hurried upstairs.
“Do you think the Hoppers were telling the truth?” Sean asked.
“I don’t know, but there’s one way to find out,” Brian answered.
Sean heard the shower turn on in his parents’ bathroom. “Are we going to ask Dad if we can go with him?”
“No,” Brian answered. “We aren’t going to learn anything new talking to the Hoppers. I’d rather talk to the kids who live in the neighborhood. Kids pay attention to what’s happening. They make the best witnesses.”
Sean sniffed the air. The fragrance of French toast drifted up from the kitchen. “Bri, could we have breakfast first?” he begged.
Brian hesitated only a second. “Remember that Lester has to take his medicine before three o’clock, or his life’s in danger,” he said. “It’s nearly seven o’clock. We haven’t got much time, so we’ll have to eat fast.”
B
RIAN AND SEAN HOPPED
on their bikes and got to the Hoppers’ home just a few minutes behind their dad. “You didn’t tell me the Hoppers live right behind Debbie Jean Parker,” Brian said.
“It’s okay. She won’t know we’re here,” Sean said.
“That’s not what I meant. If anyone notices things, then blabs about them, it’s Debbie Jean,” Brian said. “I want to talk to her.”
At that moment Debbie Jean appeared. “Hi,” she said. “I saw you ride past my house.”
“We’re here on official Casebusters business,” Sean said.
“You don’t look very official,” She said to Sean. “You’ve got syrup on your chin.”
She laughed as Sean wiped his chin on the sleeve of his T-shirt, but Sean groaned. Why did Debbie Jean always have to butt in when he and Bri were on a case?
Brian pulled out his investigator’s notebook and pen. He beckoned to some kids who were playing baseball in the street. “We’d like to ask some questions,” he said.
“Sure. About what?” one of the boys asked.
“About Lester Hopper, starting with last night,” Brian told them.
“Oh. You mean about the fight,” Debbie Jean said.
“What fight?” Sean asked.
Debbie Jean preened. “I heard the whole thing,” she said. “Lester’s bedroom window was wide open. It’s on the back of their house, opposite mine. He had to take some medicine, and he didn’t want to, so he had a real screaming fit. His parents yelled that he had to take the medicine, and he yelled that it tasted terrible and he wouldn’t.”
Brian, who’d been writing as fast as he could to keep up, finally looked at Debbie Jean. “Did he take it?”
“They must have gotten some of it inside him,” Debbie Jean said, “because I heard him choking and sputtering and yelling that he wasn’t ever going to take any more of that horrible stuff.”
