The Puzzler's Mansion (22 page)

“Two steps one way and then two steps back,” said Jake. “So you're right back where you were in the first place. What's the point?”

“Score one for me,” said Mal.

Winston stared at him. “Score one for you? What does that mean?”

“I mean, I'm right! This isn't a list of directions. It's a code! Like I said.”

“So what's the answer?”

“I
still
have no idea! Doesn't mean I'm not right.”

They all took deep, frustrated breaths. Either this was a code they couldn't crack, or this was a treasure map with no starting point. Neither possibility appealed to them.

“Fine,” said Mal. “Maybe it's like a witch's spell.”

Jake shook his head. “Now you're just saying random things, right?”

“I
mean,
maybe if you perform these steps, in this order, you'll somehow just get the answer. You take that last step and”—Mal gestured vaguely—“the answer just falls into your lap.”

That idea made no sense at all, not one little bit. Winston assumed that was why Penrose started laughing. It was the most Winston had ever seen him laugh. The boys stared at him.

“He's right!” Penrose said during a brief moment when he was able to breathe. “We have to go back to the house! Mal's right.”

“I am? I was sort of joking.”

Penrose turned and . . . well, not
ran,
exactly, but walked briskly back to the house, patting his pockets as he did so, finally pulling out a pencil. At the front entrance was a pillar topped with a large lamp, and against this, Penrose smoothed his copy of the puzzle, blank side up.

“Read me the directions,” he said.

Winston shook his own paper to straighten it against the breeze. He began to read. “Four paces west, four paces north, two paces east . . .” He looked up to see that Penrose was writing lines on the paper. The lightbulb at last went on over Winston's head. Of course! He kept reading. “Two paces west, four paces north, four paces east . . .”

“An E,” Jake said. “That made an E.”

Winston read the next couple of steps. “Eight paces southeast . . . eight paces northeast.”

“That's a V!” said Mal.

They went through all the instructions, with Penrose carefully (if wobblingly) adding new pencil lines with every step. When Winston reached the end, they looked at what Penrose had drawn.

MAL RAN UP
the stone stairs and through the front door. By the time Winston and the others had caught up, Richard was shaking his hand. “Well done!” Richard said. Gerard and Candice had not moved from their spot in the reading room, and Gerard was favoring Mal with a sour look.

“Thanks,” Mal said to Richard. “It wasn't me, though. I'm just the runner. Mr. Penrose solved it.”

“No, no,” Penrose protested. “I only saw the wisdom in what Mal was saying.”

Mal shook his head fervently. “I made a joke that turned out to be, uh, sort of right. But I didn't solve the puzzle. No way.”

Penrose looked at him. “Are you sure?”

“I am totally sure.”

Penrose smiled, and said to Richard, “Then I guess I accept whatever prize you're doling out this time.”

“Excellent,” said Richard. “Let's get the others in, and I'll show you what you've won.”

It took a while, because Derek and Zook and Chase had to be
brought back from the farthest edge of the property. They came in, laughing at themselves and feeling a little silly. When they were all gathered in the reading room again, and after Betty's kids had been calmed down with coloring books, Richard stood up and addressed them.

“Now we're getting to it,” he said. “As you know, the answer to this puzzle is EVENT. The event in question is the fiftieth anniversary of my debut performance.” He shook his head with sad amusement. “This is already quite a few years ago. Time is merciless.” There were regretful smiles of agreement from many of the adults.

“Anyway,” Richard said, “my record company and my manager wanted to get my name out there. They wanted to hold a big celebration. I agreed, of course. I always enjoy a good party, especially if it is celebrating me. Some of you were even there, as I recall.”

“I played that night,” said Kimberly.

“That's right. The young up-and-comer!”

Kimberly nodded. “I was scared right out of my mind.”

“The music that night was wonderful,” Richard said fondly. “Everything was wonderful, in fact. The evening was held in Philadelphia, and as part of the day's festivities, I received a key to the city. I'd heard of such a thing, of course, but until then I didn't understand what it meant. I always figured some politician had a desk drawer full of keys, and every so often they'd give one to a famous visiting person. But that's not it at all.” He signaled to Norma, who stood and brought over a wide wooden case.

“I'm glad to know the key is still here,” said Gerard. “And not mysteriously vanished.”

“Oh, it's here,” Richard said. “And it turned out that the key they gave me is this beautiful, handcrafted, silver-and-bronze sculpture.” He tilted the glass-topped case toward them so they could see.
Winston leaned in, and his eyes grew wide. It looked like it might open the doors to King Arthur's castle. It was enormous, and ornately and lovingly designed. This key was one of a kind, made especially for someone who was honored and admired. Just looking at it, Winston could practically hear the crowds cheering as it was handed to Richard on the steps of City Hall.

Richard held the case toward Penrose, who looked like he wanted to say a great many things. After the painting and the cuff links, Penrose had been ready to accept an extravagant prize . . . but now that it was in his hands, it seemed like too much. But Penrose also knew that if he tried to argue, he would lose. So he accepted the prize and shared a handshake with his friend. “I'm flabbergasted, Richard, really.” He admired the key for a moment and then added, with frowning seriousness, “I promise not to sell this in my shop.” Richard laughed and patted his friend on the back.

There'd been a break after every puzzle, so people began to wander away. Norma didn't let them wander for long before she gathered them back into the reading room. “Okay,” said Richard, when they were all together again. “We are now, I am sorry to say, at our final puzzle of the weekend. It's set up and waiting for you.” He looked to Norma for confirmation, and she nodded. “Are we ready?”

Everybody was ready, all right. Winston guessed that they were all thinking the same thing: So far this weekend, Richard had given away diamonds . . . paintings . . . rare memorabilia from throughout his career. What on earth would be the final prize? Winston couldn't imagine.

All he knew was he wanted to win it.

The cuff links had been stolen. Okay, it was awkward that he should have won cuff links in the first place, but for that short time,
they were
his,
and then somebody in this room had taken them. Now there was something new to win. Maybe it would be something just as odd and hard to explain as diamond cuff links. That didn't matter.

Looking around, Winston could see he wasn't the only one thinking this. The final prize was bound to be the best of them all. They all wanted to win it.

Richard led them through the entrance hall and into the music room. Winston was already thinking hard, trying to get a jump on things. Maybe the final puzzle would involve Richard playing something . . . ? He hoped not. He'd be miserable at Classical Music Name That Tune.

But no, Richard walked past his piano to a door on the far side of the room. With a jolt, Winston remembered: This was where he had first encountered Norma two days ago. She'd been in there, doing something that she didn't want anybody to see. Winston had been curious at the time, but he had gotten sidetracked, first by Richard's puzzles and then by the mystery of all the stolen stuff. Now that curiosity came roaring back.

Richard unlocked the door and gestured for everybody to go in. The guests filed into a small study. There was a rolltop desk, closed like a frightened turtle, and some more music equipment, all of which had been moved to the perimeter of the room. There was only one thing in here they were supposed to look at, and at first Winston could only blink in surprise.

Two bright photographer's lights had been set up with their beams aimed at the center of the room. Sitting on the floor in this pool of light was a toy piano. Winston had become accustomed to Richard's grand piano, the centerpiece of the music room, a proud and noble thing of beauty. Seeing a toy piano in here was just plain bizarre. It wasn't even new—it might have been picked up from somebody's
garage sale. It was painted a cracked and faded blue, speckled here and there with white stars. It looked a little amazed, somehow, to find itself the center of attention. One moment it had been a castaway toy, and now here it was, lit like a celebrity on the red carpet.

Nobody understood what this could be. “So where's the puzzle?” asked Chase.

“It's right in front of you,” said Richard, sounding amused. “That toy piano is the key to the weekend's final prize. Keys, actually.” He looked at their bewildered faces and simply said, “Good luck. I'll be in the reading room if you want to tell me your answer.”

“Wait, wait, wait!” said Gerard. “It can't just be this toy piano. Nothing else in the room is important?”

“No,” said Richard. “Just the piano.” He paused and said, “Well, maybe something else is important, but nothing else in the room.” And with that he smiled cryptically at them one last time and withdrew to the other room to wait.

The guests all looked at each other, hoping to see a spark of an idea on somebody else's face, but right now every expression was identical: complete bafflement.

The room was barely big enough to hold them. Betty hadn't even tried to squeeze herself in. She stood in the doorway with a firm grip on both her kids—the music room was easily the most dangerous place in the house for her brats to run amok. The rest of the guests stood shoulder to shoulder, looking at the toy piano like it had just tottered down the exit ramp of an alien spaceship.

“Huh,” said Larry.

“I couldn't even solve the puzzles that looked like puzzles,” said Kimberly. “This is just . . . a toy piano. How is this a puzzle at all?”

“I think that's what we have to figure out,” said Penrose.

Gerard was looking all around, at everything except what he'd
been told to look at. “There has to be something else in here,” he said. “Some other clue.” He jiggled the rolltop desk, but it was locked.

Derek sighed. “Richard said
specifically
that was not so, Gerard. This little piano is the whole thing.”

“That's impossible.”

Derek shrugged. “Nevertheless.”

“The keys,” Kimberly said quietly. Everybody looked at her. “He said the piano was the key to this final puzzle, and then he said the
keys.
”

“Oh!” said Larry. “He must mean the keyboard!” He knelt awkwardly at the piano. He trailed a finger up the keys, playing all of them. Frowning, he played a few jangly chords.

“Do they all play the right notes?” Kimberly suggested.

Larry quickly played every key. The piano was comically out of tune, but other than that it sounded fine. None of the notes he played sounded like a clue.

“That was a good thing to check, anyway,” Larry said to Kimberly as he straightened himself up, seeming to creak as he did so. “Good thinking!”

They stared awhile. It was growing hot in this little room.

Jake muttered to Winston, “How are we supposed to get an answer out of this? There's nothing to go on! No words, no letters, no clues.”

“Maybe the answer is
piano,”
said Mal.

Derek laughed. “I was thinking the same thing,” he said. “We're all knocking our brains out, and the answer is
piano
! Another ten minutes of staring, and I'm seriously going to try that. Because I don't understand anything else about this.”