inching toward the staircase.
“I think we let our nerves get the better of us,” said Viola. “I know who this woman is. And it’s not Fiona Hauptmann.”
“If it’s not her, then who is it?” asked Rosie.
Seconds later, a figure appeared in the doorway behind the wooden shelving unit. Viola had seen her face earlier that day on her way home from school. Betsy Ulrich—the Realtor who was selling the Reynolds house. Her picture was plastered on the For Sale sign across the street. Now, though, her hair was a mess, those extravagant braids having fallen apart in the chase.
After a moment, Viola noticed that the entire group recognized her. Still, they were in shock. They’d had quite a scare.
“I’m so sorry,” said Betsy, still clutching the hammer. “But you frightened me. I’d gone upstairs to check on some paperwork, and I heard whispering in the basement. When I came back down the stairs, I saw you all disappear into that hole in the wall. I didn’t know what to think.”
“So you tried to kill us?” cried Sylvester.
“No!” said Betsy, appalled. “I would never! You scared me, and I reacted. Imagine going into your basement and finding me peeking out of a secret door at you! Victor told me about this old tunnel, but I didn’t expect to find anyone using it. He’d explored it several times and assured me that the other end had been sealed off.”
“Oh,” Sylvester muttered. “Sorry.”
“Then Victor was the one who was making**the noises all this time,” Viola exclaimed. “He’s my ghost!”
“Ghost?” Betsy looked confused and a little embarrassed. She shook her head. “I was just organizing for the open house we’re having tomorrow.” She held up the hammer. “Hanging pictures to give it some design appeal. The previous owner, Nelson, wasn’t one for decorating. Obviously.” She glanced around at the Harts’ basement, as if suddenly understanding where she stood. “These old places have quirks, some of them dating back to the time of the Underground Railroad. I’m not sure if I should list this tunnel as a selling point for the Reynolds house. Some people might get freaked out.”
“You think?” said Sylvester.
Woodrow nudged him, silently telling him to shut it.
“Which one of you lives here?” Betsy asked. Viola raised her hand. “No one told you this tunnel existed?”
“I don’t think anyone knew. The previous owners thought the place was haunted. They heard noises. But I guess it was probably just Nelson poking around in his basement … or even inside the tunnel itself.”
A few minutes later, Viola’s parents came home to discover the small group standing intheir basement. To say they were shocked that a secret passage had been hidden behind the built-in wooden shelves would have been an understatement, but they were also impressed that Viola and her friends had discovered it. Unfortunately for the group, they immediately determined that the tunnel was off-limits — at least until its safety could be confirmed.
Mr. and Mrs. Hart apologized to Betsy Ulrich for interrupting her work, and Betsy Ulrich apologized to the kids for frightening them. Just before the Realtor said good-bye, she handed Mr. Hart her business card. “In case you ever want to sell,” she told him.
Viola was happy to hear his response.
“Oh, we don’t plan on going anywhere anytime soon.”
One Saturday a couple of weeks later, the trees were nearly bare. The familiar patch on the lawn where the four properties met was covered with colorful leaves. Each member of the Question Marks Mystery Club stood, armed with rakes. Their parents had asked them to come together for a common goal. Nothing mysterious this time — they were simply supposed to clean up the yards.
Viola, however, had ulterior motives. Before any of them had a chance to touch their rakes to the ground, she spoke up. “I have news,” she said, with an enigmatic lilt in her voice.
Sylvester, Woodrow, and
“I think we let our nerves get the better of us,” said Viola. “I know who this woman is. And it’s not Fiona Hauptmann.”
“If it’s not her, then who is it?” asked Rosie.
Seconds later, a figure appeared in the doorway behind the wooden shelving unit. Viola had seen her face earlier that day on her way home from school. Betsy Ulrich—the Realtor who was selling the Reynolds house. Her picture was plastered on the For Sale sign across the street. Now, though, her hair was a mess, those extravagant braids having fallen apart in the chase.
After a moment, Viola noticed that the entire group recognized her. Still, they were in shock. They’d had quite a scare.
“I’m so sorry,” said Betsy, still clutching the hammer. “But you frightened me. I’d gone upstairs to check on some paperwork, and I heard whispering in the basement. When I came back down the stairs, I saw you all disappear into that hole in the wall. I didn’t know what to think.”
“So you tried to kill us?” cried Sylvester.
“No!” said Betsy, appalled. “I would never! You scared me, and I reacted. Imagine going into your basement and finding me peeking out of a secret door at you! Victor told me about this old tunnel, but I didn’t expect to find anyone using it. He’d explored it several times and assured me that the other end had been sealed off.”
“Oh,” Sylvester muttered. “Sorry.”
“Then Victor was the one who was making**the noises all this time,” Viola exclaimed. “He’s my ghost!”
“Ghost?” Betsy looked confused and a little embarrassed. She shook her head. “I was just organizing for the open house we’re having tomorrow.” She held up the hammer. “Hanging pictures to give it some design appeal. The previous owner, Nelson, wasn’t one for decorating. Obviously.” She glanced around at the Harts’ basement, as if suddenly understanding where she stood. “These old places have quirks, some of them dating back to the time of the Underground Railroad. I’m not sure if I should list this tunnel as a selling point for the Reynolds house. Some people might get freaked out.”
“You think?” said Sylvester.
Woodrow nudged him, silently telling him to shut it.
“Which one of you lives here?” Betsy asked. Viola raised her hand. “No one told you this tunnel existed?”
“I don’t think anyone knew. The previous owners thought the place was haunted. They heard noises. But I guess it was probably just Nelson poking around in his basement … or even inside the tunnel itself.”
A few minutes later, Viola’s parents came home to discover the small group standing intheir basement. To say they were shocked that a secret passage had been hidden behind the built-in wooden shelves would have been an understatement, but they were also impressed that Viola and her friends had discovered it. Unfortunately for the group, they immediately determined that the tunnel was off-limits — at least until its safety could be confirmed.
Mr. and Mrs. Hart apologized to Betsy Ulrich for interrupting her work, and Betsy Ulrich apologized to the kids for frightening them. Just before the Realtor said good-bye, she handed Mr. Hart her business card. “In case you ever want to sell,” she told him.
Viola was happy to hear his response.
“Oh, we don’t plan on going anywhere anytime soon.”
One Saturday a couple of weeks later, the trees were nearly bare. The familiar patch on the lawn where the four properties met was covered with colorful leaves. Each member of the Question Marks Mystery Club stood, armed with rakes. Their parents had asked them to come together for a common goal. Nothing mysterious this time — they were simply supposed to clean up the yards.
Viola, however, had ulterior motives. Before any of them had a chance to touch their rakes to the ground, she spoke up. “I have news,” she said, with an enigmatic lilt in her voice.
Sylvester, Woodrow, and
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