The Great Shelby Holmes and the Haunted Hound Page 10

  I felt a light kick under the table. Bryant gave me a look. Shelby was in the middle of talking to Kaitlin about Brooklyn, and I’d completely zoned out.

  Some partner I was turning out to be in this case. Maybe if I wasn’t so distracted by what was or wasn’t going on back at home, everything would start making sense.

  Or not.

  “Pity about Mr. Mortimer,” Shelby stated as she looked directly at Kaitlin.

  Kaitlin furrowed her brows. “What about Mr. Mortimer?”

  “Oh, you don’t know?” Shelby said before putting another spoonful of ice cream in her mouth, dragging out the suspense.

  Huh. Kaitlin appeared genuinely confused. Maybe she didn’t know.

  Kaitlin turned her attention to Bryant. “What happened with Mr. Mortimer? Is he okay?”

  Bryant looked to Shelby, but she was too busy eating her sundae. “Ah, he’s in the hospital,” he explained.

  “What?” Kaitlin exclaimed as she stood up. “Is that why my mom kept calling me?” She reached into her purse and got out her phone. She rushed out of the ice cream shop with her cell phone in hand.

  “So,” Shelby began as she rested her chin in her hand. “Where did you two meet?” she asked a very confused Antonio.

  “I gotta check on my girl,” he said as he got up and joined Kaitlin outside.

  Bryant’s gaze followed Antonio out the door, and then he looked back at Shelby. “So what do you think?”

  “This is clearly a two-person job. And there we have two people,” she said as she gestured to Kaitlin and Antonio outside.

  “How do you know it’s two people?” Bryant asked.

  “Watson?” Shelby said to me.

  I was thrown, since I hadn’t considered the two-person theory, but I had to think about this logically. If there was in fact no ghost, and it was living, breathing human beings doing this, how were they doing it?

  “The sounds upstairs were happening too quickly after the lights. So one person would cut the lights while the other person made the noises?” I threw out.

  Shelby nodded, and I felt pretty good that I was able to put a few things together.

  “But that apartment is empty when the noises are happening,” I argued. “And we don’t even know if Kaitlin has access to that apartment. We also don’t know—”

  “Yet,” Shelby interrupted me. “There are certain things we don’t know yet, but we will.” She turned to Bryant. “I need a favor from you.”

  Bryant looked skeptical. “Ah, what favor?”

  “I need a copy of your lease.”

  The lease? Why would she—­

  Oh. Kaitlin wanted to move. Shelby needed to see what the renter’s lease said about leaving. Wish I’d thought of that.

  “Okay,” Bryant said with a nod. “I’ll ask my mom where she keeps it.”

  “Splendid!” Shelby remarked, patting Bryant on the back.

  Bryant looked uneasily at where Shelby touched him, like he wasn’t sure if she was genuinely complimenting him or trying to somehow poison him.

  I decided to go with the positive here.

  Because whether ghosts existed or not, seeing Shelby and Bryant get along was the most fantastical thing happening in New York City today.

  Shelby stood up. “It’s time we get back to Baskerville Estates. In light of recent events, I’m looking forward to tonight’s performance.”

  I could guarantee she was the only one.

  CHAPTER

  21

  “Interesting,” Shelby said as she paced around Bryant’s apartment an hour later.

  Bryant’s mom had texted Bryant where to find the lease. My eyes glazed over after one page since it was all boring legal talk: tenant shall do this and landlord required to do that for thirty pages.

  “What’s interesting?” Bryant asked as Shelby took pic­tures of a few pages with her phone.

  Instead of answering him, she stretched out on the couch, opened a one-pound bag of M&M’s (yes, this was after she inhaled that giant sundae), and closed her eyes.

  “Don’t tell me,” Bryant said as he looked over at Shelby. “She’s thinking.”

  I tried to figure this case out, too. So we had an apartment building with weird noises, including footsteps and a beast growling (still no explanations for how all of that was coming from an empty apartment). Claw marks appearing on the door where the noise was coming from (we’d deduced those as fake). The feeling of dread and paranoia of the residents (it wasn’t infrasound, but possibly carbon monoxide?). Mr. Mortimer was in the hospital (not good and no explanation for that). The note about the curse (same). The ghost tour and legend of Hugo Baskerville (probably fake?). The blood (definitely fake).

  Then we had our suspects. I guess we could cross Mr. Mortimer off the list. Kaitlin was for sure in the lead: she had a motive, she’d handed Shelby that letter, she could’ve been lying about not remembering Shelby’s name, she’d told us she’d googled the legend of Hugo Baskerville and confirmed its existence, and she also had the perfect accomplice: her boyfriend.

  But how would Kaitlin even know that Shelby would get involved? I guess she could’ve read about Shelby on my blog.

  Yeah, all signs pointed to Kaitlin, but there was also this creeping feeling I had. You know who also fit that height description from the blood incident?

  I didn’t even want to go there.

  It was starting to get dark out, which meant the noises would start soon.

  “So now what?” Bryant asked.

  I had absolutely no idea.

  None.

  “Homework?” I suggested as Bryant and I sat down at the kitchen table. As much as my mind raced with the details of this mystery, I still had a bunch of schoolwork to do. If my grades slipped even a little, Mom would ground me or make me stop working with Shelby.

  Mom! In all the excitement since Mr. Mortimer was taken away, I’d forgotten to check in with her. I was positive my phone would be filled with a bunch of texts from her, worrying. We had an agreement I had to keep in touch with her.

  Nothing. I did have a text from Aisha. A huge grin spread across my face. I showed Bryant the picture Aisha sent me of her in her Wonder Woman costume for Halloween.

  “Oh, that’s the girl from the figure skating case, right?” Bryant asked.

  Shelby snorted from the couch.

  I kept my voice low. “Yeah. I’m going to see her on Saturday. After the competition last weekend, she wants to go to Sal’s and eat everything on the menu.”

  “That’s cool, man,” Bryant said as he closed his book. “I don’t think I’m going to be able to get this reading done with everything going on.”

  “We’ll get to the bottom of this,” I assured him, and hoped it wasn’t a lie.

  “I know you will.”

  And I don’t think I was imagining it, but I swear Bryant looked over at Shelby with a little bit of respect.

  “And it’s nice you and Shelby seem to be getting along,” I said in a whisper.

  Bryant recoiled slightly. “I mean, it’s nice she’s helping, but this is just, like, a case thing. It’s not like we’d ever be friends or anything.”

  He opened his book again and started reading, or pre­tended to. So much for those two calling a truce, but at this point who knew how long this case was going to last. Maybe if it went on longer—which no way did I want that to happen—they might really start warming up to each other.

  Hey, crazier things had happened. (See: the unexplained howls of a beast.)

  I shot off a quick text to Mom before I started working. Shelby remained quiet on the couch, save for the occasional crunch of chocolate.

  A little while later, Bryant’s mom came home.

  “Hello, John!” she greeted me as she hugged her son. “Did you find the lease?”

  “Yeah, thanks,” I said.

  “Anything new today or do I not want to know?”

  We filled her in. With each new piece of information—Mr. Mortimer, D
etective Lestrade’s involvement, and the fake blood—she became more and more distressed.

  “Maybe we should go stay with your aunt for a few days,” she suggested.

  Couldn’t really blame her. As much as Shelby and Lestrade could dismiss this as a prank, they were the ones who had to live here.

  “That’s not necessary,” Shelby replied from the couch.

  Bryant’s mom yelped in surprise.

  “Oh, sorry, Mom,” Bryant replied. “Ah, that’s—”

  “Shelby Holmes!” his mom replied with a smile. “Yes, I know you from John’s recitals. You’re such an impressive violinist. And, of course, from John’s blog.”

  Okay, the two Johns was confusing (which was precisely why he and I went by Bryant and Watson at school). But Bryant’s mom had read my blog!

  “Pleasure,” Shelby replied from the couch. She kept her eyes closed.

  “Would you like to stay for dinner?” Bryant’s mom offered as she unpacked her bag of groceries.

  Before we could reply, the lights flickered.

  Here we go again . . .

  “Ah, Shelby,” I said.

  Shelby’s eyes popped open. A smirk on her face as the lights began to flash for a few seconds longer until they went out completely. “Cutting the power is as easy as a simple flip of a switch.”

  The silence was too much. My nerves were on edge, knowing what was coming next.

  Bryant and his mom turned on their flashlights and lit a few candles.

  Nothing. It was eerily quiet.

  The candles went out right as the footsteps started up.

  STOMP.

  Whoooosh.

  STOMP.

  Whoooosh.

  STOMP.

  Whoooosh.

  I held my breath as I waited for the dog to start howling. That was the worst.

  The tapping began instead.

  Taaaap. Taaaap-tap.

  Some of the taps were longer than others.

  Tap.

  Taaaap.

  Shelby jumped up from the couch.

  “What is it?” I asked while Bryant and his mom held each other.

  “It’s Morse code,” Shelby replied. “Watson, write these letters down.”

  I flipped over the notebook from math class and started writing down what Shelby said.

  “T. O. U. T.”

  Tout? That made no sense, but I kept writing the letters as Shelby told me: G and then E and another T, followed by an O.

  She stopped.

  “T. O. U. T. G. E. T. O,” I read from my notebook. So basically gibberish. Pure gibberish. It wasn’t some code. It was just really unnerving noise. That was this person’s goal, to make us uncomfortable.

  Once again, point culprit. Or culprits.

  “I was late decoding it when it started, but it’s repeating itself.” Shelby looked at the ceiling. “Oh, I just love it when a perp starts chatting. If you let them talk long enough, they’ll eventually give themselves away.”

  “Talking?” Bryant’s mom said. “I don’t understand. What are they saying?”

  “It’s quite simple,” Shelby said with a grin.

  We all waited for her to finally fill us in.

  “Get out.”

  CHAPTER

  22

  Nobody needed to be told twice.

  Bryant’s mom rushed into her bedroom while instructing Bryant to pack his bags. Someone knocked on the door, and Ms. Lyons came in to ask what was going on. As soon as Bryant told her what the tapping meant, she ran back up to her apartment.

  “Ah, maybe we shouldn’t panic,” I said, even though I was panicking. I’d be doing the exact same thing if this happened back at 221 Baker Street.

  And I’m not going to lie: I wanted to get out of there as quickly as possible. Because if the culprit was willing to go to such lengths to frighten people—even land Mr. Mortimer in the hospital—who knew what they’d do next?

  Shelby, however, stood back and watched. She didn’t say a word. I knew she was looking for clues in the behavior of the neighbors.

  Mr. Barrymore appeared at the apartment door. “I’m going to check in upstairs.”

  Shelby approached him. “I’d love to join you!”

  He gave her a weird look, because nobody should be that excited to enter a room where creepy noises were coming from.

  Shelby pulled a flashlight from her backpack and illuminated it. “Shall we?”

  She didn’t tell me to follow her, but I knew I had to see the apartment for myself. There was no way the unit would be empty with all that noise. Someone had to be in there. It was the most logical deduction.

  “I’m glad to have someone else witness that the apartment is empty,” Barrymore stated right as the howling started up.

  HOOOOOOOWWWWWL.

  We went up a few more stairs.

  HOOOOOOOWWWWWL.

  Why were we walking closer to the apartment?

  HOOOOOOOWWWWWL.

  I needed to get out of there.

  Barrymore paused outside unit 5. “Are you sure you want to do this?” he asked as another howl came and sent a chill down my spine.

  “Yes, please,” Shelby replied excitedly.

  As Barrymore put the key into the lock, the howling stopped. He opened the door and nothing. The apartment was quiet and empty.

  Shelby stormed inside and pointed her flashlight beam around the apartment. As she took a few more steps, she bounced a bit on her feet and pointed her flashlight down at the ground.

  I took a few cautious steps in and felt that uneasiness again. It wasn’t that heaviness like before, but I felt off balance.

  Something was seriously wrong with this apartment.

  “I think I should check in on everybody,” Barrymore said as he gestured for us to follow him out of the unit. I was more than happy to get out of there.

  Shelby narrowed her eyes as she took one last look around.

  We went back downstairs to Bryant’s place.

  Barrymore saw the open suitcases. “Where are you going?”

  “Jay, we can’t possibly stay here another night,” Bryant’s mom answered. “It’s getting to be too much. I’m sure Shelby and Watson will get to the bottom of it, but for now, my son and I need to go somewhere safe. And sleep.”

  By her haggard and stressed expression, I wasn’t sure if sleep was ever going to be possible for her again.

  Right then, the lights flickered back on. We all blinked at the brightness.

  “I completely understand,” Mr. Barrymore conceded. “I’ll look at the lease and see if there’s any leeway I can give you if you decide to leave. I wouldn’t be able to look at myself in the mirror if I held you to your contract at this point.”

  “I’ve already examined the lease,” Shelby informed him. “As their landlord, you’d be able to waive any fees for early termination.”

  “Why, I—I—” Mr. Barrymore stuttered. “I hope that won’t be necessary. However, my main priority is to ensure my tenants are taken care of. If you’ll excuse me.” He walked out of Bryant’s apartment and went back up to the Lyonses’.

  There was another set of footsteps coming up from the first floor. Shelby walked over to the door. “Hello,” she said.

  “What on earth is going on?” a man’s voice came from the hallway.

  “It seems your neighbors are quite dramatic,” Shelby said with a smirk. “Mr. Stapleton, I presume.”

  I peeked my head around the corner to see a guy in his late thirties wearing a nice suit, holding a suitcase. So this was the missing upstairs neighbor.

  “Yes,” he said, surprised. “Wait a minute.” He looked between Shelby and me. “I don’t believe it! Shelby Holmes and John Watson—cool!”

  What? This dude seemed excited we were here.

  But hold up. Just hold up. How did he know us? Maybe he was responsible for all of this? He’d been mysteriously “away” all week. He knew who we were—therefore he would’ve known that I was friends with Bryan
t. Bryant would ask for my help and I’d bring in Shelby.

  He also just happened to pop in right after the lights came back on.

  Stapleton also would’ve had the means to hire someone, based on his tailored suit and shiny, polished leather shoes. His low-fade hair was freshly shaved. And I couldn’t be sure, but his nails were really neat like he got a manicure or something. Yeah, this guy clearly had money if he was going to pay for someone to cut his nails.

  So he also could’ve hired someone to do his dirty work.

  Mr. Stapleton had two units converted into one. What if that wasn’t enough for him? He wanted more space so he hired someone to mess with the neighbors.

  Yes! That had to be it!

  Mr. Stapleton’s face beamed as he continued, “Linda told me that you were here so I looked you up online and read your blog.”

  Aka doing research on us. Trying to find our weakness.

  Stapleton looked around at the chaos of his neighbors. “At first I dismissed all these rumors about a beast howling through the night and ghosts and whatnot. But based on your blog it appears you only take cases with merit. So I guess I am both relieved and nervous that I find you two standing here.”

  Flattery wasn’t going to get him anywhere with us.

  Shelby regarded Stapleton cautiously. “Do you speak to Ms. Lyons regularly?”

  “We text while I’m away,” he replied as he pulled on his cufflink. “She waters my plants.”

  “So she has a key to your apartment.”

  “Yes! I guess you could say that Linda is the patron saint of this building. An excellent neighbor. I think she has everybody’s keys. We can’t always rely on Barrymore being around, especially since he has classes and an internship that keep him busy. His uncle, who was a wonderful man, pretty much never left the building.”

  This dude was giving us lots of information, but one thing stood out: Ms. Lyons has keys to every apartment. So she had access.

  Hmmm. Maybe it was Ms. Lyons in cahoots with Stapleton. She appeared to have a crush on him. Maybe they wanted the building all to themselves!

  Or maybe Kaitlin stole the keys from her mother!