Chapter Three
The Secret Room
Thursday, 12:00 p.m.
Just outside our front gate, Chief Chizelmen, a large man with a brooding look and a double chin was waiting for us in a black SUV.
We got in the car and the tires rolled over gravel as he pulled away from the curb.
“Morning, Mike,” the chief said. “I want to remind you that discretion is essential under the circumstances. Otherwise, this ghost thing could turn into a real media freak show.”
“You got it, Chief,” Dad agreed. “Our conversation is strictly off the record.” He was a reporter for the Covert Times and a wannabe TV sports anchor with a stack of applications to prove it.
“Thanks.” Chizelmen’s SUV squealed around a corner. “Were you at Willaston last night, Madison?”
“Yes,” I said. …show more content…
“Hello, are you Chizelmen?”
“Yes.” The chief’s pale eyes flittered over the guy like a toad inspecting a fly. “How can I help you?”
“Your men wouldn’t let me into the house.”
“I posted officers at the door to keep out snoops. People hear about something like this and they swarm the place,” the chief said, shrugging out of his jacket. “Don’t believe I caught your name.”
“I’m David Shaw.” The man reached out to shake Chizelmen’s hand. “Emma McBride’s nephew and lawyer. She read about what went on here last night and asked me to drive over and investigate. The whole thing sounds like a lot of far-fetched nonsense, but I do as I’m told.”
“Far-fetched, maybe. Bizarre and peculiar, most definitely.” Chief Chizelmen slid a heavy hand down over his sweaty face. “Although, I don’t think it’s nonsense. Anyway, this is Mike Mischief, his daughter Madison, and her friends Seth and Twist. Madison and Seth were here last night.”
“Oh.” Mr. Shaw cut a glance my way. “So you saw the strange, um . . . apparition?”
“Yes, sir.” I pointed to an attic window. “The ghost was floating there, behind the broken glass.”
“Thank you, Madison,” Chief Chizelmen said, strolling through the grass to the house’s saggy steps. “That helps to clear things …show more content…
Shaw frowned. “What?”
“Honestly, he wasn’t certain,” Chief Chizelmen replied. “But it’s time to find out.”
The chief radioed the police officers outside and asked them to come upstairs. A few minutes later, two men jogged up the crumbling staircase.
“All right, boys,” the chief said. “Bash it down.”
We stood in the hallway and watched one of the men peel away the paper with a scraper.
The other swung a hatchet. The sharp blade sliced through the plaster and wood. The officer kicked at the lath wall, the veins bulging out of his neck. There was a tremendous echoing crash that shook the whole house as plumes of ancient dust rose and coiled in the corridor. When it settled, I regarded the hole half my height and as wide as a man. Behind it was a sizable room.
Mr. Shaw stared at the men, baffled. “What is this place?”
“It looks like some sort of secret vault,” Chizelmen said, squatting down and edging past the officers into the room.
Mr. Shaw and Dad picked their way through the debris and cobwebs, high-stepping shards of timber and planks studded with old rusting nails.
We stumbled along behind them, brushing away wood
The Secret Room
Thursday, 12:00 p.m.
Just outside our front gate, Chief Chizelmen, a large man with a brooding look and a double chin was waiting for us in a black SUV.
We got in the car and the tires rolled over gravel as he pulled away from the curb.
“Morning, Mike,” the chief said. “I want to remind you that discretion is essential under the circumstances. Otherwise, this ghost thing could turn into a real media freak show.”
“You got it, Chief,” Dad agreed. “Our conversation is strictly off the record.” He was a reporter for the Covert Times and a wannabe TV sports anchor with a stack of applications to prove it.
“Thanks.” Chizelmen’s SUV squealed around a corner. “Were you at Willaston last night, Madison?”
“Yes,” I said. …show more content…
“Hello, are you Chizelmen?”
“Yes.” The chief’s pale eyes flittered over the guy like a toad inspecting a fly. “How can I help you?”
“Your men wouldn’t let me into the house.”
“I posted officers at the door to keep out snoops. People hear about something like this and they swarm the place,” the chief said, shrugging out of his jacket. “Don’t believe I caught your name.”
“I’m David Shaw.” The man reached out to shake Chizelmen’s hand. “Emma McBride’s nephew and lawyer. She read about what went on here last night and asked me to drive over and investigate. The whole thing sounds like a lot of far-fetched nonsense, but I do as I’m told.”
“Far-fetched, maybe. Bizarre and peculiar, most definitely.” Chief Chizelmen slid a heavy hand down over his sweaty face. “Although, I don’t think it’s nonsense. Anyway, this is Mike Mischief, his daughter Madison, and her friends Seth and Twist. Madison and Seth were here last night.”
“Oh.” Mr. Shaw cut a glance my way. “So you saw the strange, um . . . apparition?”
“Yes, sir.” I pointed to an attic window. “The ghost was floating there, behind the broken glass.”
“Thank you, Madison,” Chief Chizelmen said, strolling through the grass to the house’s saggy steps. “That helps to clear things …show more content…
Shaw frowned. “What?”
“Honestly, he wasn’t certain,” Chief Chizelmen replied. “But it’s time to find out.”
The chief radioed the police officers outside and asked them to come upstairs. A few minutes later, two men jogged up the crumbling staircase.
“All right, boys,” the chief said. “Bash it down.”
We stood in the hallway and watched one of the men peel away the paper with a scraper.
The other swung a hatchet. The sharp blade sliced through the plaster and wood. The officer kicked at the lath wall, the veins bulging out of his neck. There was a tremendous echoing crash that shook the whole house as plumes of ancient dust rose and coiled in the corridor. When it settled, I regarded the hole half my height and as wide as a man. Behind it was a sizable room.
Mr. Shaw stared at the men, baffled. “What is this place?”
“It looks like some sort of secret vault,” Chizelmen said, squatting down and edging past the officers into the room.
Mr. Shaw and Dad picked their way through the debris and cobwebs, high-stepping shards of timber and planks studded with old rusting nails.
We stumbled along behind them, brushing away wood