The Skeleton in the Smithsonian (2 page)

“At least the air-conditioning is working again,” KC whispered to Marshall. They were in the Smithsonian Castle with the president and two scientists. It was only nine o’clock in the morning, so the building wasn’t open to the public yet.

“Why are you whispering?” Marshall asked with a grin. “Scared of ghosts?”

“You two are about to witness history,” the president broke in. “Without that gift from James Smithson, Washington, D.C., would be a different place.”

“All set, Mr. President,” one of the scientists said. “This should only take a few
minutes.” She was wearing rubber gloves and carried a specimen jar.

They were in the main room of the Castle. To the left was another, smaller room. Through the open arch, KC could see a gray casket resting on a stone pedestal. The president entered the room first, and the others followed.

The marble sarcophagus stood in the center of the room. There was no other furniture. A small sign told the public that inside the casket were the remains of James Smithson, who died in 1829.

KC felt herself trembling. She hoped Marshall wouldn’t notice.

“Okay, let’s do it,” President Thornton said, moving back to stand next to KC and Marshall. His voice sounded hollow in the quiet room. They watched one scientist
insert the flat end of a crowbar into the crack under the sarcophagus lid. Then both scientists leaned on the bar until the lid was raised high enough for them to get their hands beneath it. They carefully removed the lid and set it aside.

The president put his hands on KC’s and Marshall’s shoulders. “Come meet James Smithson,” he said quietly.

The kids stepped forward. KC felt as if she were in a spooky movie. She expected to see a fully preserved body, wrapped like a mummy. But lying on the bottom of the casket were only bones and bits of clothing. Long gray hair still covered part of the skull.

The female scientist reached in while her partner held the open jar. She removed a few hairs from the skull and
dropped them into the container. Then she turned and looked at the president. “Anything else, sir?” she asked.

“That’s all you need?” he asked. “A few hairs?”

The scientist smiled. “That’s all we need.”

“When will we know?” the president asked. “I hate to rush you, but we need an answer as soon as possible.”

“We have our best people working on this,” the scientist said. “In a couple of hours we’ll be able to tell how these samples compare with Mr. Fisher’s hair.”

President Thornton smiled. “Thank you.”

The scientists replaced the sarcophagus lid, sealed the specimen jar, and left the building.

The president said good-bye to the kids on the front steps of the Castle. KC and Marshall watched him step into his waiting car. When it pulled away, they began walking home.

“So if Mr. Fisher is telling the truth, he’ll be a zillionaire by tomorrow,” said Marshall.

KC and Marshall headed toward the Capitol. When they passed a large garden, KC took her camera out of her backpack. She snapped a picture of Marshall in front of some white blossoms covered with monarch butterflies.

KC studied one of the blossoms. “That’s funny,” she said.

“What’s funny?” Marshall asked. He was watching a fat yellow bee.

“The sign says these are lilies,” KC told him. “Remember when Leonard Fisher sneezed yesterday? He said he was allergic to the lilies in the vase. But the flowers in the vase didn’t look anything like these.”

“So maybe he was allergic to some other flower,” Marshall said.

“I think gardeners should know one flower from another,” KC said as they walked.

She gave Marshall a sideways look. “Another thing,” KC added. “Did you notice the look on Mr. Fishers face when you mentioned DNA?”

“No,” Marshall said.

“Well, I was watching him,” KC said. “When you brought up DNA, he got all smiley.”

Marshall laughed. “Wouldn’t you be
happy if you found out you could inherit a lot of money?”

KC shook her head. “It wasn’t that kind of smile, Marsh. It was sneaky, like the way you smile when you’re cheating at Monopoly.”

“I don’t cheat!” Marshall said.

KC grinned. “Yeah, and that hundred-dollar bill just happened to stick to your elbow last night.”

A few minutes later, they were waiting for a light across the street from the Dupont Inn. “Isn’t that where Mr. Fisher said he was staying?” KC asked.

“I think so,” Marshall said. “Why?”

KC pushed the button for the WALK sign so they could cross. “We should spy on him.”

“KC, the president can take care of this
Smithsonian stuff,” Marshall said. “He doesn’t need you.”

KC took Marshall by the arm. “Let’s at least see if Fisher is there.”

The kids passed through a revolving door into the hotel.

The lobby was decorated to look like a tropical island. There were palm trees in big pots, and pictures of sandy beaches hanging on the walls. Soft music came from hidden speakers.

KC walked up to the desk. A tall man stood behind it typing on a computer. “Excuse me,” KC said. “My friend is feeling faint from the heat. Could he have something to drink?”

“No problem.” The man pointed to a small table. “There are drinks and pastries over there. Help yourself.”

“Thank you,” KC said. She turned away, then spun back. “By the way, is Mr. Fisher in?”

“Mr. Leonard Fisher, the musician?” the clerk asked. “Yes, he went up about ten minutes ago.”

KC stared at him. “Musician? I thought he was a gardener,” she said. “Are there
two
Leonard Fishers staying here?”

“I don’t think so.” The man tapped a few keys on his computer. “No, it’s showing only one Leonard Fisher. I was here when he checked in. He was carrying a long black case. When I asked about it, he said he played in a band. Would you like me to ring Mr. Fisher in his room?”

“Oh, no, thank you,” KC said. “We’ll just wait. We want to surprise him.”

“Suit yourself,” the clerk said.

KC sighed and sat in an armchair where she could watch the elevators. “Gardener, musician. Marsh, there’s something very weird going on,” she said.

Marshall bit into a jelly doughnut and relaxed in the air-conditioned lobby. “I know someone who has an overactive imagination,” he said. He wiggled deeper into his chair. “I wonder how much a room costs in this place.”

“A lot more than you have,” KC said. “Unless you use some of that Monopoly money you stole.”

“I didn’t steal any—”

“Shhh! There he is!” KC said. She ducked behind a tree as Leonard Fisher stepped out of the elevator. He was wearing shorts, sneakers, and a light blue shirt. He was also carrying a black instrument
case. The case was as tall as KC and had a handle on the side.

KC and Marshall watched Leonard Fisher cross the lobby and walk outside.

KC counted to five, then stood up. “Come on, Marshall,” she whispered. “Don’t let him see you!”

KC and Marshall followed Leonard Fisher. When he stopped to buy a newspaper, they hid behind a Dumpster. When he looked in a window at some clothing, they slipped into an alley.

“I feel like a jerk,” Marshall said. “Tell me again why we’re following this guy?”

“Because I don’t trust him,” KC said.

Marshall snorted. “You don’t trust him? You don’t
know
him, KC.”

Before KC could respond, Fisher continued walking.

KC and Marshall followed.

“Can you read what it says on the back of his shirt?” KC asked.

Marshall squinted. “Um, I think it says CENTIPEDE something.”

KC squinted, too. “No, I think it says CELLOPHANE something.”

“Maybe it says CELLO PLAYER,” Marshall tried.

Just then Fisher stopped again. He set the black case on the ground and bent down and tied his sneaker lace.

KC whipped out her camera and snapped a picture. She heard a whirring sound and realized that she had just used the last frame. She popped out the roll and put it in her pocket.

When KC looked up again, Leonard Fisher had disappeared.

“Where did he go?” she asked, turning to look all around her. There were plenty of people carrying briefcases, shopping bags, and pocketbooks. But KC saw no one with a musician’s case.

“Maybe he went down there,” Marshall said. A few yards away, a ramp sloped down to an underground parking garage.

“Let’s look,” KC said, already walking down the ramp.

The underground garage was quiet and dark. Hundreds of cars, vans, and small trucks were parked in lines. KC smelled gasoline, dust, and dampness.

“Do you see him?” she whispered, peering into the dim corners.

“Um, can we go?” Marshall asked. “This place is creeping me out.”

“Yeah, okay,” KC said. They walked
back up the ramp into daylight. KC realized that she had goose bumps on her arms.

“I want to drop my film off and buy another roll,” she told Marshall. “And when we get home, we’re going to play Monopoly again. And this time, don’t cheat!”

“I don’t have to cheat,” Marshall said, tapping the side of his head. “I’m a better player than you.”

KC chased him all the way to their building.

The next morning, KC and Marshall took a few shortcuts and reached the camera shop in ten minutes.

KC paid, then opened the cardboard packet that held the pictures and negatives. Marshall looked over her shoulder. There were pictures of KC’s kittens, one of Marshall in the garden, and one of the kids petting a cockroach in the Museum of Natural History.

“Here he is,” KC said. In the snapshot, Leonard Fisher was bending over to tie his sneaker lace. Next to him rested the black instrument case.

“Before we lost him,” Marshall said.

The picture showed the back of Fisher’s shirt, but the words printed there weren’t clear enough to read. “CELERY something something,” KC muttered.

“Wait a sec, I have an idea,” Marshall said.

He turned to the clerk. “Can you make this picture bigger?”

“Sure, but it would cost six dollars and take about a week,” the clerk said. “I’d have to send it out.”

She reached under the counter and pulled out a magnifying glass. “Here, try this,” she suggested.

“Thanks a lot!” KC said. She placed the round magnifying glass over the picture of Leonard Fisher. The words on his shirt were suddenly clear.

“CEMETERY STAFF, BOWIE, MARYLAND,” Marshall read out loud. He and KC stared at each other.

“Cemetery staff?” KC said. “He told us he made gardens for rich people!”

KC slid the pictures back into the packet. She tucked it into her backpack and headed for the door.

Marshall thanked the clerk and followed KC. “Why would the guy lie about his job?” he asked.

“I don’t know,” KC said, “but it can’t be good.”

“What would your mom say if she heard you say that?” Marshall asked.

KC started humming over Marshall’s voice.

“She’d say, ‘Katherine Christine, don’t jump to conclusions!’” Marshall trilled.
He sounded a lot like KC’s mom.

KC stopped and looked at Marshall. “Marsh, don’t you think it’s weird that Leonard Fisher told the president he was a gardener but told the hotel guy he was a musician?” she asked. “And what’s up with that shirt?”

“Just because his shirt has CEMETERY written on it doesn’t mean he’s lying,” Marshall said. “I have a shirt with a picture of a beetle on the back, but I’m not an insect.”

“Says who?” KC asked, walking faster.

“Very funny,” Marshall said. “And where are we going?”

“Back to the Dupont Inn.”

“Oh, brother,” Marshall muttered under his breath.

“Don’t worry,” KC said. “All I want to
do is ask him whether he’s a gardener, a musician, or a gravedigger.”

Marshall hooted.

“And don’t tell me he has three jobs,” KC said.

When they walked into the lobby, the same clerk was behind the counter. “Back for another breakfast?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

“No, thank you,” KC said. She gave him her brightest smile. “We need to talk to Leonard Fisher.”

The man shook his head. “I’m afraid that’s not possible. Mr. Fisher is gone for the day.”

“Where did he go?” KC asked.

The clerk sighed. “Miss, I can’t give out that kind of information,” he said. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I—”

“Probably gone home to Bowie, Maryland, right?” Marshall asked.

“That would be my guess,” the man said. His phone rang and he picked it up. He turned his back on KC and Marshall.

They walked back out through the revolving doors. “Pretty clever, Marsh,” KC said.

“No problem,” Marshall said.

KC unzipped her pack and counted her money. “I think I have enough,” she said.

“For what?” Marshall asked.

“Two bus fares.”

“Uh-oh,” Marshall muttered. “I have a feeling I know where we’re going.”

KC led Marshall toward a bus stop. “If your feeling is Bowie, Maryland, you’re right,” she said.

“But that’s … that’s three towns away!” said Marshall.

A man in a white shirt and necktie was sitting on the bench reading a newspaper The headline said HEAT WAVE STRANGLES D.C.

“Excuse me, do you know which bus goes to Bowie, Maryland?” KC asked him.

“I think you want the number thirteen,” he said, pulling a bus schedule out of his pocket. He studied the schedule for a moment, then folded it back up. “Yes, thirteen is the one. It should be here in a few minutes.”

“So how do we find Leonard Fisher when we get there?” Marshall asked KC.

KC hadn’t thought that far ahead, but she was saved from having to answer Marshall. A silver bus with a 13 in the front window rolled to a stop. They climbed aboard the nearly empty bus. KC paid the driver, and she and Marshall took the seat right behind him.

“At least it’s air-conditioned,” Marshall said as the bus pulled back into the traffic and headed east.

KC inched up to talk to the driver. “Excuse me, is Bowie a big town?”

The bus driver shook his head. “It’s a pretty small place,” he said, turning down his radio. “What takes you there?”

“We’re looking for someone,” KC said. “He’s a … a friend. We want to surprise him, but we don’t know where he works. He’s either a gardener or a musician.”

Marshall sank lower into his seat. “Or a gravedigger,” he murmured just loudly enough for KC to hear.

“Oh yeah,” KC told the driver. “He might work at a cemetery.”

“Well, there’s only one cemetery in Bowie,” the driver said. “We pass it just before we get downtown.” He looked up into his mirror. “So do you want to go into town, or should I drop you off at the cemetery?”

KC swallowed. “At the cemetery, please.”