Elrod McBugle on the Loose (9 page)

Chapter Fourteen Quiz

1. Define the word "discretion."

2. Define the word "philtrum."

3. Define the word "word."

THE MOST SCARED I've ever been in my life was because of another English assignment. It wasn't that the assignment itself was scary, it's just that...well, read on. (You're close to being done with this book anyway, you might as well find out how it ends.)
    Mr. Rodriguez spent the time discussing the right way to interview people. We also read a fascinating story about a guy who grew plants out of his nose and ears so that we could see what a proper interview looked like.
    Then, of course, we were told that we'd have to conduct an interview of our own. It had to be with an adult, and it couldn't be a relative. We didn't have to decide on the person yet, but our homework was to write up twenty sample questions.
    I wrote a lot more than twenty, but I had to reject a bunch of them. I figured questions like "Do you wear avocados as jewelry?" and "Have you ever stapled your tongue to a refrigerator?" wouldn't be acceptable.
    Even with me cutting out the ones I thought were too goofy, Mr. Rodriguez crossed out six of my questions, including a really clever one about belly button lint. We were then given two weeks to conduct the interview, write out the interview word-for-word, and then write a page describing how we thought the whole thing went.
    By Pre-Algebra, I still hadn't decided who I wanted to talk to. Who would be interesting? Who spoke English? Who had a dark secret that I might be able to get them to reveal?
    Definitely my Pre-Algebra teacher.
    Mrs. Logan was a sweet, middle-aged woman who wore pretty dresses, laughed easily, and would occasionally give a look that said "When you look under your bed tonight, I'll be there with an axe." She didn't give this look very often, and it never seemed like a purposeful look. Meaning, if somebody was whispering during class she wouldn't give the axe look to get them to shut up, but instead she could be in the middle of a perfectly civil lecture about integers and suddenly give that horrible look for no reason without stumbling over a word. The look would only last a couple seconds and then she'd be back to normal, though I'm sure many students in that class checked under their beds those nights before going to sleep.
    That was it! I was going to interview Mrs. Logan and find out just what that horrible look was all about!
    After class, I went to her desk and told her about the assignment. "Of course I'd be willing to let you interview me, you silly goose," she said, beaming. "I think we should do it at my house, so I can show you all of my beautiful antiques. Aside from teaching, they're the most important part of my life. And I'll make cookies."
    "Sounds great," I said. "Are you busy tomorrow?"
    "I'm never too busy to help a student. Here, let me draw you a map showing you how to get to my house. Is seven o'clock at night all right with you?"

"I HEAR SHE MURDERED three of her husbands with an axe," said Andy the next day at lunch.
    "At the same time?" Scoopy asked.
    "No, not at the same time," said Andy, rolling his eyes. "It's illegal to be married to more than one person. Duh."
    "Well, I figured if she was the type to axe-murder somebody, she wouldn't be all that concerned with marriage regulations."
    "He has a point," I said.
    "Whatever. All I'm saying is that I wouldn't go over there without a police escort. And I'm tough." Andy took an especially tough bite out of his sandwich to demonstrate. At the next table, Julie looked at him, her eyes filled with longing.
    "I'm sure it's nothing like that," I said. "But I'm curious about what really is wrong with her. She's probably just lonely. I heard that she did have three husbands, but they died of natural causes."
    "Yeah, being killed by an axe with a natural wood handle."
    "Anyway, I'm not worried. Scoopy's coming with me."
    "I am?" asked Scoopy, nervously.
    "Sure. You haven't picked anyone to interview yet, and Mr. Rodriguez said that more than one person could interview somebody. Mrs. Logan will be glad to have you there."
    "Oh, okay," said Scoopy.
    Andy made hand gestures like he was swinging an axe. "Thunk! Chop! Thwack! Bleed, bleed, bleed!"

AROUND 6:30 P.M., SCOOPY and I hopped on our bicycles and rode to where Mrs. Logan lived. The houses along her street were all old, but huge and nicely-kept. Right next door to Mrs. Logan's house, Mrs. Webster was crouched on her lawn, pulling some weeds. She stiffened as she saw me.
    "What do you want?" she demanded, covering her lips.
    "Nothing. I'm here to see Mrs. Logan."
    "Then go see her. And stay off my lawn."
    "We aren't even close to your lawn," I insisted.
    "And stay that way!" With a mighty
harumph,
Mrs. Webster got up and went inside her house.
    We rode into Mrs. Logan's driveway and put up our kickstands, then went onto her porch and rang the doorbell. It rang in twelve chimes which I think may have been the theme song to some old sitcom, though I'm probably wrong. A moment later, the door swung open.
    "Hello, boys!" said Mrs. Logan. "The cookies are almost ready, so come right in!"
    We walked inside and were immediately impressed. Every square inch of her walls was covered with old black-and-white pictures, and everywhere we looked there were knickknacks of every type. She led us through the foyer into her living room, where there were shelves and shelves filled with all kinds of neat stuff, all of it old.
    Including an axe hanging on the wall.
    I decided to ignore that for the time being. It couldn't hurt me while it was up there on the wall. I'd just have to keep an eye on it.
    "Now, you boys make yourselves right at home," she said. "I'll go get the cookies. Is chocolate chip all right? If it isn't I already made up a batch of peanut butter cookie dough."
    "Chocolate chip is great," I assured her. "Thanks."
    After Mrs. Logan walked into the kitchen, Scoopy and I went to the mantle above the fireplace. There were more framed pictures, some of which were in color. In the very center were three large photographs, each of a different man.
    "Check for bloodstains," Scoopy whispered. I gave him a swat to get him to shut up.
    "Cookie time!" announced Mrs. Logan, returning to the living room with a tray piled high with cookies. Huge cookies. I'm pretty sure she used half a bowl of batter for each one. Now, I'm a big believer in large cookies, but these things were just outrageous.
    "Are these your brothers?" I asked, pointing to the pictures.
    Mrs. Logan shook her head sadly. "No, those are my husbands. I was married three times before I married Donald, and each of the poor sweeties passed away less than a year later. None of their bodies were ever found, poor darlings."
    "How did they die?"
    "They ate cookies until they exploded," said Mrs. Logan with a grin. "Now come on and take some while they're still warm."
    Scoopy and I each took a cookie then sat down on one of the sofas. "How long have you been married this time?" I asked.
    "Just under a year. Donald is such a dear, but he's gone away on business a lot. I guess that's why I always get so excited to have company over."
    Suddenly there was a loud
crash
that nearly caused Scoopy and I to drop our cookies. Mrs. Logan shook her head and walked over to the axe, which had fallen off the wall. "This silly thing does that all the time. One of these days I'm going to have to find a better place for it."
    She picked up the axe. She looked very comfortable holding it. I felt very uncomfortable watching how comfortable she looked. But I wasn't going to get worked up over nothing. As long as Scoopy and I didn't marry her we'd be safe.
    I took a bite of the cookie, and realized that in addition to being the biggest cookie I'd ever had, it was the
worst
. It was absolutely disgusting. I don't know what kind of chocolate chips she used, but they were so bitter that it was all I could do not to spit 'em across the room at one of her antiques.
    "How is it?" asked Mrs. Logan. "It's my mother's recipe. She didn't use sugar or real chocolate, but after trying these I'm sure you'll never miss those ingredients."
    "It's very good," I said, trying to force my throat not to make a really loud gagging sound similar to "
Gaaarrrghhh
." Scoopy took a bite of one of his cookies and chewed happily. For about half a second. Then he looked like he was going to cry.
    "Where's your bathroom?" I asked.
    "Right down that hall, across from the bedroom." Mrs. Logan pointed me in the right direction. I thanked her, then took as big of a cookie bite as I could fit in my mouth. It was going to get flushed. I'd figure out a way to dispose of the rest later.
    I walked into the bathroom, shut the door, and immediately spat it out into the toilet. Then I ran some water and used it to rinse out my mouth. If I ran out of ideas, I could devote my entire paper to adjectives describing how awful those cookies tasted.
    I waited around long enough so that it wouldn't seem like I'd only gone into the bathroom to spit out a wad of cookie, flushed the evidence far, far away, then walked back into the hallway. I glanced into the bedroom for a second, since I'd never actually seen a teacher's bedroom before. It was nice to know that they didn't sleep in coffins.
    Then I froze. Cold sweat poured down my back. Because poking out from underneath the bed was a shadow-covered object that I was pretty sure was a human leg.

Chapter Fifteen Quiz

1. Ooooooh, is this scary or what?

2. Booga-booga!

3. Did that scare you? Huh? Was it scary? Was it? Was it?

I STOOD THERE, STARING at the leg, trying to make sure if it really was a leg or if I was just imagining it. After all, if I ran back into the living room shouting "There's a leg under your bed! There's a leg under your bed!" without due cause, the rest of the interview would be extremely awkward.
    I continued to stare at it.
    Maybe it was just a pair of pants.
    Or, maybe it was just a pair of pants
...with a leg in it!
    "Are you okay, sweetie?" asked Mrs. Logan, peeking into the hallway. My heart felt like it said "Okay, that's it, I'm outta here," and leapt out of my body.
    "Yeah, yeah, I'm fine," I said.
    "What are you staring at? Do you see an antique in there you like?"
    She walked to me, reached inside the bedroom door, and flipped on the light. I came very, very, very, very close to screaming, but managed not to.
    Underneath the bed, a blue-jean-wearing leg was sticking out. Mrs. Logan stepped over to it, bent down, and pulled out the scarecrow. "This is Bennie," she said, sitting him upright. "My cousin in Indiana sent him to me after my second husband's funeral. Isn't he delightful?"
    "He's great," I said, so filled with relief that I almost passed out.
    "Well, we should get started on the interview. Back to the living room with you."
    When we returned to the living room, Scoopy rubbed his stomach. "Mmmmmm, that cookie was good. It was so good that I ate it right up while you were gone. Too bad I'm so full or I'd ask for another one."
    "Are you sure?" asked Mrs. Logan. "I have plenty."
    "No!" said Scoopy, too quickly. "I mean, I really am full."
    "Well, then, let's begin." She sat down on a recliner. "Which one of you wants to go first?"
    "I will," I said, picking up my notebook. "Where were you born?"
    "I was born in a town in Ohio called Sharpview. If you've ever heard of that comedy group Out of Whack, well, that's where they came from. No, on second thought, you wouldn't have heard of them---they do evil, wicked comedy that kids shouldn't listen to."
    I hadn't heard of them, but I'd have to check them out. I love evil wicked comedy that kids shouldn't listen to.
    "And what year were you born?"
    Mrs. Logan smiled. "Tell Mr. Rodriguez that I told you it was none of his business."
    I wrote that down. "What was your first---?"
    I was interrupted as the axe dropped off the wall again. "Mercy, it just won't stay put tonight, will it?" Mrs. Logan remarked, getting to her feet again. "I may have to put it somewhere else."
    
Please not my head,
I thought to myself.
    
Oh, stop being paranoid,
I told myself a second later.
    
And stop talking to yourself,
I finally told myself.
    She picked up the axe, looked around for a good spot, and finally leaned it against a small table. Which is when I noticed something that made my stomach go thunk-thunk-thunk against my belly button.
    There was a small bloodstain on the blade.
    At least, I thought it was a bloodstain. I wasn't close enough to be sure, and my life has been refreshingly free of the sight of bloodstains on axes, but that spot looked like blood.
    No, it couldn't be. Or if it was, there was a logical explanation. Psycho Pre-Algebra teachers who murdered all of their previous husbands didn't leave the axes out in plain sight for interviewing students to see.
    Unless that's what we were
supposed
to think.
    Mrs. Logan returned to her chair. "I apologize for the distraction. What's your next question?"
    "Do you ever hear voices in your head telling you to do terrible things to people?" I asked.
    Oh no! I hadn't really asked that, had I? I was so nervous that I couldn't control what I was saying!
    "Excuse me?" asked Mrs. Logan. Scoopy looked like he was trying to push himself right through the back of the couch.
    I had. I had asked that question. I needed to get out of this place before I did anything else stupid and signed myself up for an appointment with the axe.
    "I was only kidding," I said. "Actually, I think we're about done. The interview didn't have to be very long. After all, we're only in seventh grade."
    "That's it? That's all you wanted to ask me?" Mrs. Logan frowned. "Now, I know Mr. Rodriguez didn't assign you to do a two-question interview. You're just kidding around again, aren't you?"
    "Uh...yeah," I finally said.
    "You think I murdered my husbands with that axe, don't you?"
    My eyes widened. "No!" I insisted. "Not at all!"
    "Now, boys," said Mrs. Logan, shaking her head, "are you really such silly geese that you would believe a story like that? I listen to what kids say, I know that there are rumors that I've chopped up a few spouses, but they're all just that...rumors. Foolish ones. Ridiculous ones. Nobody believes them except a tiny group of kids, and I'm simply amazed that the two of you are part of that group."
    "I...I didn't really believe it," I said. "It's just that the axe made me nervous. And the bloodstain---"
    "Bloodstain? What bloodstain?"
    "The one on the blade. I saw it."
    Mrs. Logan sighed, got up, and went to the axe. She picked it up and ran her finger along the edge. "You mean this dirt?"
    "Ummm, yeah. I guess the dirt is what I meant."
    "Elrod McBugle, please don't tell me you asked me to do this interview because you thought I was a killer. Tell me you at least did it out of a genuine love for Pre-Algebra."
    She still hadn't put down the axe. "I did it because you're my favorite teacher," I said.
    "Truthfully?"
    "Yes."
    She leaned the axe back against the table. "Boys, boys, boys. You need to work on your ability to tell a plausible rumor from a ridiculous one. Let's just forget all of this axe-murdering nonsense and finish the interview, all right?"
    "All right."
    I noticed that Scoopy's face was completely white. If it didn't turn back to normal in a couple days we'd go out and buy him some makeup.
    Mrs. Logan didn't sit down again. Instead, she started to pace around the room. "What's your next question?"
    "What was your first job?"
    "Oh, that was while I was in high school. I worked at a carnival, making cotton candy, caramel apples, things like that. Do you like caramel apples?"
    I nodded. Actually, while I like the taste of caramel apples, I can't stand the way they always stick to my face and get in my eyes. But I may be eating them wrong.
    As I wrote down her answer, the axe fell over yet again. As it crashed against the floor, the closet door next to the kitchen swung open.
    A dead body tumbled out.
    Scoopy and I stared at it in horror.
    "Whoopsie," said Mrs. Logan, picking up the axe. "You weren't supposed to see that. I didn't have any plans to kill you two, but you know how sometimes these things just come up."