The Ghost and Mrs. Hobbs Page 6

  Puzzled, she pushed the buttons to move the portion of the film that was under the lens. Immediately that began to dissolve as well. It looked as if it were melting right before her eyes. An acrid smell reached her nostrils, and a thin trickle of smoke rose from the microfilm reader. The film was melting! The smoke became thicker and started billowing from the machine.

  Allie jumped up to find Mrs. Harris. But before she was halfway across the room, a bell began to clang and the lights in the library flashed on and off. For the second time in two days, Allie found herself evacuating a smoky building with the sound of a fire alarm wailing in her ears.

  Twelve

  With an odd sense of déjà vu, Allie watched as the fire trucks arrived and firemen swarmed the library. When they emerged shortly afterward, Allie sidled over to listen as Chief Rasmussen reported to Mrs. Harris.

  “There was no actual fire,” he said, “just lots of smoke. It appears there was a meltdown in that microfilm reader. Have you had trouble with it before?”

  Mrs. Harris looked bewildered. “Never,” she replied. “I can’t imagine what could have happened. Those machines don’t even get hot ordinarily.” Just then she spotted Allie. “Oh, here’s Allie Nichols, the young lady who was using it. Are you all right, dear?”

  “I’m fine.”

  “Do you have any idea what happened?”

  “No,” said Allie. “All of a sudden the plastic started to melt and smoke like crazy. I jumped up to find you, but the alarm was already going off.”

  “Allie was doing research on local fires,” Mrs. Harris explained to the chief. Then, with a startled laugh, she added, “What an odd coincidence!”

  The chief raised his eyebrows and gave Allie a long, intent gaze. “What grade did you say you’re in?” he asked finally.

  I didn’t say, Allie thought. Puzzled, she answered, “Sixth.”

  “So you must go to Seneca Heights School,” the chief said thoughtfully.

  She nodded, wondering what he was getting at.

  “Were you there yesterday afternoon during the fire?”

  Allie nodded again.

  Mrs. Harris was looking back and forth from the chief to Allie with a baffled expression on her face. “There was a fire at the school, too?” she asked.

  “Yes,” said the chief, still looking speculatively at Allie. “And you say you came here to get information about fires, is that right?” he asked her.

  “For a school project,” she explained. Would that make the chief stop eyeing her with suspicion?

  “Oh? Tell me about your project, Allie.”

  Now the chief must be thinking she was some kind of fire-setting weirdo. How was she supposed to explain herself? If she mentioned the ghost, he’d think she was a different kind of weirdo. For just a moment she wished she’d never heard the voice of her ghost, never seen his face. But no! She didn’t really mean that. She simply needed to make the chief understand that she wasn’t a firebug.

  “The project is for Elders Day. We’re supposed to interview somebody old, and I’m doing our cafeteria lady, Mrs. Hobbs.”

  The chief nodded. “I talked with her yesterday, after the fire at school.”

  “Oh,” said Allie. “Well, I heard there was a fire in her past, too, so I was trying to find out about it. To get, you know, background information for the interview.”

  Chief Rasmussen nodded and said carefully, “I think we’d better talk about this with your parents, Allie.”

  “My parents? But why? If you’d just let me explain—”

  “Are they at home?”

  Allie felt like screaming. This was crazy, all of it: the fire at school, the fire in the library, and especially the idea that she had started them! Chief Rasmussen and Mrs. Harris were both looking at her warily.

  She sighed and said, “My mom’s at work. But Dad’s home.”

  “Good,” said the chief. “Let’s go have a little chat with him. Why don’t you come on and ride with me?”

  “I’ve got my bike.” Allie pointed to the rack.

  “Okay,” the chief answered. “You go ahead and ride home, and I’ll follow along after you. Where do you live?”

  Allie gave him her address, and Chief Rasmussen snapped his fingers in recognition. “Allie Nichols! I thought you looked familiar. You’re the girl who got rescued in Fossil Glen a few weeks ago, aren’t you?”

  Allie nodded.

  The chief looked at her appraisingly. “And here you are again, right in the middle of the action.”

  Allie shrugged, thinking, You don’t know the half of it.

  As she mounted her bike, she heard the chief and Mrs. Harris talking in low tones. She couldn’t quite catch the words, but she was sure they were talking about her, which made her nervous. She rode home in a daze, unable to believe what a mess the day was turning out to be.

  When she pulled in the driveway, Michael was in the yard playing with his Galactic Warriors action figures. He looked up and saw her, and a cloud passed over his face. Standing up, hands on his hips, he shouted, “Liar!”

  “Wh-what?”

  “Liar, liar, big fat liar!”

  “Mike,” she said with exasperation, “what in the world are you talking about?”

  Michael’s face got the crumply look that meant he was trying not to cry. “You said she wouldn’t come here, but she did. You said she’s not really scary, but she is.”

  “She? Who?” Allie was so upset about Chief Rasmussen’s imminent arrival that she was having a hard time making sense of what she was hearing. Suddenly her jaw dropped open. “You mean—?”

  “The Snapping Turtle!” Michael cried, his chin wobbling. Then, bursting into tears, he wailed, “The Snapping Turtle came here, and she is scary, she is, she is, she is!”

  Thirteen

  It was obvious to Allie that her father was more than a little surprised when she walked into the house with Chief Rasmussen. Mr. Nichols appeared completely bewildered by the chief’s questions. No, there had never been a fire at their house. No, he’d never seen Allie playing with matches. No, as far as he knew, Allie had never started a fire; she even refused to light the gas grill, claiming she didn’t like the sudden whoosh it made when it ignited. No, Allie had never shown any unusual interest whatsoever in fires of any kind.

  “Would you mind telling me what this is all about?” he asked the chief at last.

  Chief Rasmussen sighed. “I’m sorry to have bothered you,” he said, including Allie in his apologetic glance. “It’s my job to take note of any suspicious activity concerning fires, and I needed to satisfy myself that Allie here wasn’t one of those kids whose fascination with fire leads them into trouble. If it’s any consolation, I’m satisfied.”

  Whew, thought Allie.

  “Well, that’s a relief,” said Mr. Nichols. “And there’s no need to apologize. I’m grateful you’re so conscientious.”

  “You know, I was new on the squad back when the Hobbs fire happened,” the chief said, turning to Allie.

  “Really?” she replied with interest. Maybe she’d find out the answers to some of her questions, after all. Not wanting to appear too eager, though, she waited.

  “It was a real tragedy,” he said, shaking his head at the memory. “You say you’re interviewing Mrs. Hobbs for a project?”

  “Yes,” answered Allie.

  “Then you should probably know this. Her husband and child died in that fire. Someone else, too, as I recall. I’m sure you don’t want to bring up painful memories or ask her any awkward questions.”

  Too late for that, thought Allie. I already asked her about her family, and she got so mad she set fire to the cafeteria. She didn’t say anything, though, hoping Chief Rasmussen would say more about the “someone else” who had died.

  “The poor woman,” said Allie’s father, sounding horrified.

  “Worst thing I’ve seen in all my years on the job,” the chief said sadly.

  “By the way,” he added to Alli
e, “I’m sure glad you got out of the glen safely. According to the newspaper, you were quite the hero that day.”

  Allie smiled and shrugged, feeling embarrassed at the word “hero.”

  Her father and the chief talked for a few more moments. Then the chief left, saying again, “Sorry to have bothered you folks.”

  Allie was glad Chief Rasmussen had realized she wasn’t a mentally deranged kid with a fire-starting fixation. But she knew her troubles were far from over.

  Sure enough, her father turned to her with a look of exasperation. “Allie, what in Sam Hill is going on?”

  It was one of her father’s favorite expressions. Allie had often meant to ask him who Sam Hill was, anyway, but she didn’t think this was the proper moment.

  “First the cafeteria lady from your school, Mrs. Hobbs, comes here and scares Michael half to death, and next thing I know, the fire chief is here, asking questions as if he thinks you’re a pyromaniac!”

  Allie was still trying to take in the bizarre notion that Mrs. Hobbs had actually come here, to her house.

  “Dad, I have no idea what happened at the library. The microfilm just started to melt. It was really weird. Even Mrs. Harris said they’ve never had that problem before. And then, because there was a fire at school, too, and I happened to be in both places, the chief decided maybe I was some kind of creepy fire nut.” She looked at her father beseechingly.

  “Well, I think we got that straightened out,” said Mr. Nichols. “At least, I hope so. But this visit from Mrs. Hobbs . . . Why do you think she came here? You haven’t been bothering that poor woman, have you?”

  Poor woman! Allie thought. “No!” she cried. “I asked if I could interview her and she said yes, only we got interrupted by the fire in the cafeteria. What was she doing here?”

  Her father handed Allie a piece of folded paper. “When I told her you weren’t home, she asked if she could leave a message.”

  “For me?” Allie asked with amazement.

  Her father nodded, watching her curiously. Allie was curious, too, but mostly she felt bewildered and—yes, she admitted to herself—scared. She held the message gingerly between two fingertips, as if it were a poisonous snake or a ticking bomb. Feeling her father’s eyes on her, she wished she could read it in the privacy of her room. But what excuse could she give for that?

  Slowly, she unfolded the paper and gasped as she read the scribbled words:

  Be careful.

  You’re playing with fire.

  “What?” asked her father, his voice filled with concern. “Let me see that.” He read the message and gave a low whistle. “What does she mean?”

  “I don’t know,” Allie whispered, staring at the paper in horror.

  “Allie,” her father said, reaching out to touch her face, “you aren’t ‘playing with fire,’ are you? First the chief, and now this . . .” His voice drifted off, and he lifted Allie’s chin so he could look into her eyes.

  Allie saw the worry there and said quickly, to reassure him, “No, Dad. Honest.” She had a sudden urge to tell her father everything. He always tried to be fair. He tried to understand her. But asking him to understand about a ghost, and about her suspicions concerning Mrs. Hobbs, and about her reasons for looking up fires in the library—it was too much.

  “Why would she write this?” he asked.

  Allie shook her head, looking at the note as if it might yet reveal its meaning.

  Mr. Nichols stood up. “Well, I don’t like it. You heard the chief. She’s had a tough life. It could be she’s mentally unbalanced.” He thought for a moment and added, “I want you to stay away from her, Allie. Meanwhile, I think I should tell Chief Rasmussen about this note.”

  Allie put the note in her father’s outstretched hand and watched while he looked up a number in the phone book and dialed. “Hello, this is Bill Nichols calling. I’d like to speak to Chief Rasmussen, please. Oh, he’s not? Well, would you have him call me as soon as he comes in. It’s important. Thank you.”

  Mr. Nichols gave their home phone number and hung up. Turning back to Allie, he said, “Are you okay, Allie-Cat?”

  “Yeah, I guess.”

  Her father read the note again. “At first it sounds like a threat,” he said slowly. “But if you read it a different way, it seems like a warning. Do you have any idea what the danger she’s talking about might be?”

  Allie shook her head. But she was thinking, Yes, she’s the danger! She’s telling me to stop trying to find out about her—or else.

  Or else what? Allie wondered with a shiver.

  “Well, threat or warning, it’s a very peculiar thing to do, to leave a message like this for a kid.” Mr. Nichols appeared to be thinking out loud as he said, “Especially for someone who works at the school. You know, I think I’d better report this to Ms. Gillespie.”

  “You’re going to tell the principal?” Allie said with surprise. Everything was happening so fast all of a sudden, and it felt way out of her control.

  “I think she ought to know. In the meantime, stay away from Mrs. Hobbs.”

  “I was thinking I might still try to interview her for my project,” Allie said hesitantly.

  Her father looked at her in astonishment. “I think it’s pretty evident that you need to find a new subject, don’t you?”

  “But I already told Mr. Henry and everybody I was interviewing Mrs. Hobbs,” Allie protested.

  “I’m sure Mr. Henry will understand.”

  Her father was right: Mr. Henry would understand. Besides, Allie had no idea how she’d go about finishing the interview, anyway, not to mention getting up the guts to do it. Still, she imagined Karen gloating with satisfaction: “I knew you’d never go through with it, Allie.” Even worse was imagining the reaction of her ghost: “I thought I could count on you, Allie. You promised you wouldn’t let me down.”

  “Maybe I’m making too much of this,” Mr. Nichols went on. “I certainly felt sorry for Mrs. Hobbs when I saw the way her face is scarred.”

  You wouldn’t feel so sorry for her if you knew how she got those scars, Allie thought.

  “But we have no way to know what’s going on in her mind. Until we find out more, I want you to stay away from her.”

  “Okay, Dad,” Allie said quietly.

  “And give the subject of fires a rest, too, while you’re at it, okay?” Mr. Nichols said with a touch of a smile.

  “Okay.” Allie tried to return his smile, but didn’t feel as if she was very successful.

  “I’m going to make that phone call now. Why don’t you go find your brother and tell him that Mrs. Hobbs won’t be coming back here anymore. The poor kid was scared out of his wits this morning.”

  “Okay.”

  “Tell him lunch will be ready soon.”

  Allie found Michael out in his “fort,” a little shelter he’d made under a plastic table hidden deep within the forsythia bushes in a corner of the yard.

  “Mike? Can I come in?”

  There was a long silence. Finally, Michael said, “What’s the password?”

  Michael had created an elaborate password system based on the names of the good guys and bad guys in the Galactic Warriors universe.

  “How should I know?”

  “Guess.”

  Allie sighed. “Okay. Just give me a hint. Is it a good guy or a bad guy?”

  “Bad guy.”

  “Vulture-Breath?”

  “Wrong.”

  “Lady Stretcherly?”

  “She’s a good guy!”

  Allie had no idea how Michael kept all this stuff straight. There were, it seemed to her, hundreds of characters, and Michael knew everything about each one of them. “Shark-Jaw?” she guessed, trying to hide her impatience.

  “That was yesterday.”

  “Michael. Come on. I give up. Let me in.”

  “Guess one more time.”

  Exasperated, Allie racked her brain. “All right. Claw Girl?”

  “Right.”
<
br />   Allie breathed a sigh of relief. She was pretty sure Michael changed the password whenever he felt like it, depending on his mood, but at least he had decided she was going to be allowed into the fort. On all fours she crawled in and sat down.

  “Hi,” she said.

  Michael stared at her distrustfully from beneath lowered brows. “You said she wouldn’t come here, and she did.”

  “I know, Mike. I’m sorry. Believe me, I had no idea she’d do that. Did she really frighten you?”

  Michael nodded.

  Allie was curious. “What did she do that was so scary?”

  “She looked at me.”

  Allie waited. “She looked at you?” she repeated.

  “Yeah,” said Michael with a small sniffle. “And her eyes are scary. Like she has Superman vision. Like she sees inside you.”

  Allie shivered. So Michael felt Mrs. Hobbs’s secret powers, too.

  “And she looks scary.”

  “I know, Mike,” Allie said. “But you don’t have to worry. She’s not going to hurt you.”

  “Promise?”

  “Promise,” Allie said, trying to sound certain. And why shouldn’t she be? Mrs. Hobbs had done terrible things, yes, but she had no reason to harm Michael.

  Michael sniffled again and asked, “How come she looks like that?”

  “I don’t know, Mike,” Allie said. “But Dad says lunch will be ready soon.” She wasn’t about to tell a frightened four-year-old kid what she was sure was true: that Mrs. Hobbs had gotten burned in a fire she had set, a fire that had killed her own husband and child. Allie didn’t want to believe it herself.

  Fourteen

  Allie went inside and thought about the odd events of the morning, puzzling over the message from Mrs. Hobbs. Oh, how she longed to talk with Dub! She started to dial his number, then stopped. She reminded herself that Dub was skating with Pam. The traitor! Why was he acting so stupid, especially now?

  He was the only person who knew that Allie saw and heard ghosts, the only person who had all the background information to advise her. Maybe he’d gotten home. She decided to call. To her relief, he answered.