Stacey And The Mystery Of Stoneybrook (10 page)

so we headed off to Stoneybrook Manor.

It took us awhile to get there — it was a longer walk than I'd thought. We didn't talk much along the way. I guess we were each busy with our own thoughts. Finally we stood on the sidewalk in front of the nursing home. It was a new-ish building, but it had a nice homey feeling about it. It was all on one story, and there were lots of pretty plants and flowers along the front and bordering the path to the main entrance. A few elderly men sat in wheelchairs on a patio area to the left, playing checkers.

After a few minutes passed with all of us just standing there, Kristy took the lead. "C'mon, you guys, let's go in," she said, and she walked up the path. The rest of us followed her. She stopped and waited for us at the front door. We walked in together, looking around the lobby. How were we supposed to find Mr. Hennessey? Then a young man stood up from the desk where he'd been sitting. "How may I help you?" he asked.

That was when I noticed the sign that a trailing plant had hidden:
reception desk.
None of us said anything for a moment. I thought the man might tell us to get lost when we told him what we wanted. After all, we

were just a bunch of kids. Finally, Claud spoke up.

"We're here to see a Mr. Ronald Hennessey. I understand that he is a resident here," she said. I think she was trying to sound like her heroine, Nancy Drew. The "girl detective" usually talks like that when she's on a case.

The man behind the desk gave us a big smile. "Why, how nice for Mr. Hennessey to have some young visitors," he said. He turned to a woman who was working at the desk next to his. "Ruth, can you bring Mr. Hennessey to the lounge?"

Well, this was easier than I'd thought. I looked at my fellow "detectives." Kristy seemed relieved, but Claud and Charlotte still looked nervous.

"Would you girls sign the guest register?" asked the receptionist. He gestured to a large book on a stand next to his desk. We signed in, each of us filling in our name, address, and phone number. Claud used her pink neon pen that she loves. For some reason that made me want to giggle, but I held it in. Then we walked over to the lounge area and sat down to wait. We didn't talk much. Claud fiddled with her charm bracelet, Kristy twirled her hair around a finger, and Charlotte sat and stared

at the other people in the lounge until I signaled to her to stop.

After about ten minutes, Ruth reappeared, pushing an old man in a wheelchair. And when I say old, I mean
old.
He was all shriveled up — he looked about the size of a ten-year-old — and hunched over. He had a blanket over his legs, and he wore a heavy sweater, even though it didn't seem all that cool in the building. I saw hearing aids in both of his ears. His hands, the papery skin covered with brown spots, lay on his lap, picking at the blanket. But his eyes looked bright as he focused on each of us in turn. .He cleared his throat and looked straight at me.

"What's your name, young lady? And what do you want with Ronald Hennessey?" His voice sounded rusty, as if he hadn't used it much lately.

"I ... I'm ... Stacey McGill." I finally got it out. "And these are my friends Claudia, Kristy, and Charlotte."

He nodded at each of them, but he didn't smile. He didn't seem all that delighted with his "young visitors." He looked back at me. I realized that I hadn't told him yet why we were there.

"Mr. Hennessey, we came to ask you about an old house on Elm Street. Didn't you once

own it?" I asked. I figured we might as well keep on going, as long as we were there.

"Own it? Yes, I owned it. Lived there all my life. Born in the east bedroom," he said shortly. "What about it?"

"Well, we've been noticing some strange things happening there lately," I said. "Ever since they started to tear the house down."

"Oh?" he said. He was still acting grumpy, but I thought I could see a spark in his eyes all of a sudden. We'd gotten him interested. "Strange things? Like what?"

"We've heard odd noises," I said.

"And we've seen some scary things, too!" added Charlotte.

We started to tell him the story from the beginning, and I could see him perk up as he listened.

"And Charlotte and I both had awful nightmares about the house, on the same night," I told him, and then Claud chipped in her story about feeling a hand on her arm.

"I have to tell you girls that none of this surprises me," said Mr. Hennessey. "I lived in that house for almost eighty years, and I couldn't begin to tell you all the things that happened there. But I loved the house just the same. I'd never have sold it but for the fact that I know I'll never be able to live there again

by myself. I'm just not able to get up and down those stairs anymore."

Looking at him, we could see that it was more than just stairs that kept him from living alone. He didn't look capable of taking care of himself any longer. He was frail and tired and very, very old. But what kinds of things was he remembering about the house? I asked him to tell us more.

"Well," he said, "the very first thing I remember was when I was just a lad in short pants. I was seven or eight years old, I suppose. I woke up in the middle of the night to the sound of heavy footsteps. Someone was pacing in the corridor outside my room. I crept out of my bed and peeked through the door, which was open a crack. What a funny-looking man! He wore the strangest old-fashioned clothes, and his nose . . . well, his nose looked like it was made of rubber! I stifled a giggle, and he turned and glared at me. I drew back. I was very afraid.

"Later I learned that this man was a ghost, a ghost who went by the name of Old Rubbernose. When he was living, a horse had bitten off his nose, and the town doctor had fashioned a new one of rubber. Children laughed at Old Rubbernose, and women spurned him. He died a lonely, sad, and bitter

man, and it was said that he would never rest until he found a mortal woman who would love him despite his disfigurement. He may be pacing still!"

We were all leaning forward to hear every word of his story. I was fascinated and terrified, all at the same time. Could he be telling the truth? Old Rubbernose? I looked at Claud. She raised her eyebrows. Mr. Hennessey started another story.

"And then there was the time my Uncle James came to visit. One morning he told us about a beautiful woman with red hair who was wearing a green velvet dress. She came into his room with a lit candle and bade him follow her. He got out of bed, but as he followed her out the door and down the hall, she became more and more transparent and finally disappeared. The rest of us never saw her, but every time Uncle James came to visit she would turn up. I guess she'd taken a liking to him."

That story sounded like it was out of one of those books Dawn likes to read all the time. One was called
Stones NOT to Be Read After Dark.
Was Mr. Hennessey for real?

He told us a few other stories about the house, one involving a man who carried his own head around and another about an attic

door that wouldn't stay shut until a spirit was put to rest. His eyes were really sparkling now. It was obvious that he was enjoying his "young visitors" after all. Kristy caught my eye and shrugged. I knew that the others were as doubtful as I was about some of these stories. But then Mr. Hennessey said something that really grabbed our attention.

"I suppose that all of these events had a single cause," he said. "All those restless spirits ... they were all justly unhappy because a town had been built over their graves. And if Old Rubbernose had ever killed us all in our beds, it would have been because he was angry at us for building a house right on top of his grave."

I gasped. We hadn't told Mr. Hennessey about the maps Kristy and Claud had found. Could all of his stories be true after all? None of us were able say a word. I noticed that Claud was white as a sheet.

"I think we should respect those spirits. I don't blame them one bit for being upset about having their graves disturbed," Mr. Hennessey went on. "All they want is to rest peacefully, with grass and sky over them. But then a house is built over them. And then, if that wasn't enough, the house has to be torn apart and the earth around it defiled! It's no wonder

they've been reacting as they have."

"Are — are you saying that my neighborhood is
haunted?"
I asked.

"Well, missy, I can't say for sure," he answered. "But you'll know once the house is finally torn down."

That was supposed to happen the next day! What did he mean! What was going to happen?

"How
will I know?" I whispered. I could hardly speak.

Mr. Hennessey wouldn't answer. Kristy, Claud, and Charlotte just sat and gaped at him. I asked him again.

He shook his head. "Sometimes people are safer not knowing," he said. "I'd stay away from that house. I don't like the sound of what you've seen and heard there." He stopped with that and wouldn't say another word about the house.

I felt frustrated and more scared than ever. But Mr. Hennessey looked tired all of a sudden, so we decided it was time to leave. I thanked him, and he nodded wearily and raised his hand in a wave. "Just be careful," he said.

Once again, we didn't get much done at our club meeting later that day. Of course we answered the phone and arranged jobs and everything — nothing gets in the way of that — but that was about it. We spent the rest of the time talking about the house, and about Mr. Hennessey's stories. Claud did a great rendition of the "Old Rubbernose" story — in fact, she really had us laughing for a few minutes. But by the time Charlotte and I walked home from the meeting, I wasn't laughing anymore. Mr. Hennessey's words echoed in my mind. "Just be careful." It was a warning.

Chapter 14.

The next day was Thursday, the day the house was scheduled to come down. I didn't get much sleep at all on Wednesday night. Neither did Charlotte, judging by how bleary-eyed she looked at breakfast that morning. Once again I sleepwalked through all my classes that day. Maybe it was a good thing that the house was coming down at last. If this went on much longer, my grades might really suffer. Lately I just couldn't concentrate on anything but that house.

Charlotte and I had talked it over seriously and decided that we would pay attention to Mr. Hennessey’s warning. We would not go and watch as the house was torn down. Maybe Mr. Hennessey was a little crazy — or senile — but it didn't matter to us. We didn't know
what
might happen when the house was knocked down, and we didn't plan to be there to find out. Our nightmares had been scary

enough; we didn't need to see the real thing.

We were sitting on the front steps of my house, trying to talk about anything
but
the house, when we noticed that there seemed to be more traffic than usual on my street. Kids went by on bikes and skateboards. Moms pushed strollers. Older kids cruised by in their cars. Everybody was headed in the same direction. I guess the demolition of the old house was a major event in Stoneybrook. Everybody wanted to be there.

Including Charlotte. "Stacey, why can't we go if everybody else is going?" she asked. "Let's go. Please?"

Part of the reason I'd decided to stay home was for Charlotte's sake. I'd been behaving less than responsibly toward her, exposing her to all these scary stories and everything. At least that's how I was beginning to feel. But if she really wanted to go, maybe we should, I thought. Anyway, what could happen with such a big crowd of people around?

"Okay, Charlotte. We might as well go," I said. I took her hand and we set off down the street to join the party.

As we got closer to the house, I started to see people I knew. I saw Suzi and Buddy Barrett standing on the corner together. They waved to us. All the Pike kids were there.

They made a crowd all by themselves. The triplets were playing freeze tag with some other kids, and I heard Nicky teasing Claire by singing
his
version of "The Wheels on the Bus." He sang,
"The wheels on the bus go back and forth, back and forth
..." Then,
"The wipers on the bus go round and round, round and round
..." Mallory, who was keeping an eye on her brothers and sisters, made him stop when Claire started to cry.

Mary Anne was there with Jenny Prezzioso, whom she was sitting for that day. Jenny was dressed up for the occasion, which was nothing new. Jenny is
always
dressed up. She had on a white frilly dress with a pink pinafore over it. Her tights had rosebuds on them and she wore white party shoes with big pink bows on them. Charlotte stared at her while Mary Anne and I said hello. Jenny looked back at Charlotte and preened a little.

"Do you like my most beautiful new dress?" she asked coyly.

Charlotte seemed unsure of what to say, so I spoke up. "It's very nice, Jenny. I hope it won't get dirty, though, while you watch the house get torn down." Maybe someday Mrs. Prezzioso will start dressing Jenny like a normal kid.

Charlotte was waving at someone. I looked

in that direction and saw Claud, with Myriah and Gabbie in tow. They looked excited by the action. It
was
exciting. It was like a fair or something, with all these people milling around. Some adults were there, too. I saw a woman who works at the bank talking with our mailman.

Then I heard someone calling my name and turned around just in time to see Kristy drive by with her brothers Charlie and Sam. They parked, and she came over to stand with me and Charlotte.