Read Online The Mystery of the Phantom Grashopper by Julie Campbell - Free Book Online
Authors: Julie Campbell
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on the base this week.”
“You mean Sammy,” Jim said.
“Yeah, Sammy,” Mr. Johnson repeated. “He said he isn’t afraid to climb. He probably could have fixed that base in no time.” Wearily, Mr. Johnson rubbed his head. “Now it’s too late,” he said sadly.
Silently the Bob-Whites stared up at the high roof. The cupola looked oddly out of place without the handsome old weather vane in position.
“Well, I’d better get back to work,” Mr. Johnson said. “I’ve got some papers on my desk that have to go to a roofing contractor this afternoon. I must have been up and down those stairs a dozen times already today.”
“If you’re tired, I’ll go up and get them for you, Mr. Johnson,” Trixie offered quickly. “Just tell me what to look for.”
Mr. Johnson told Trixie where to find the papers, and she was off, running across the common to the front door of Town Hall. “See you at the car in a minute or two,” Trixie called back to the other Bob-Whites.
The heavy front door closed solidly behind Trixie, cutting off the traffic noises from outside as suddenly as turning off a radio. Inside, Town Hall seemed as quiet as a ghost town.
The two main meeting rooms on either side of the hallway were deserted. The long corridor that ran past the stairway was dark and gloomy-looking, and the stillness of the old building made Trixie feel she should walk softly. She went up the steep flight of stairs almost on tiptoe.
Mr. Johnson s office was at the far end of the second-floor corridor. The door was standing open. Trixie saw the folded papers on the desk where Mr. Johnson had said they would be. Tucking them into her jacket pocket, she started back down the hallway toward the stairs.
She had almost reached the stairs when she saw a door directly across from the stairway open slowly. A tall man backed out into the hall and soundlessly closed the door. Turning, he saw Trixie.
“Are you, uh, looking for someone?” Trixie asked, suddenly nervous.
“I’m looking for the caretaker’s office,” the man answered in an unfriendly tone.
“Oh.” Trixie forced herself to smile. “That’s it down there, at the end of the hall, but Mr. Johnson isn’t in now. He’s outside—”
“Thanks,” the man interrupted. He turned and started down the stairs.
“Mr. Johnson is right out in the common,” Trixie said helpfully.
“I’ll talk to him later,” the man called back, already at the bottom of the stairs.
“Jeepers!” Trixie scratched her head. “I wonder who that was.” She turned to look at the closed door through which the man had come. The door was unmarked.
Twisting the knob, Trixie opened the door and poked her head inside. The small square room was dirty and completely empty, except for a narrow steel ladder bolted to the floor in the middle of the room. The ladder went up to a hatch set in the high ceiling.
Curious, Trixie started to climb, counting each rung as she went. After thirteen rungs, her head was pressed against the hatch. Hooking one arm around the top rung, Trixie cautiously pushed the hatch open. She smelled fresh air.
“This is the belfry!” Trixie exclaimed aloud. She stretched her neck to look around the empty tower, noticing the worn wooden floor, the low arched openings, and the weathered ceiling with another hatch that led up into the cupola. “It isn’t much bigger than Bobby’s tree house,” Trixie muttered. Then she gasped. “And come to think of it, I think that man was the same one I saw from the tree house!”
Bad News • 9
TRIXIE FOUND the other Bob-Whites waiting impatiently in tie station wagon.
“Where have you been?” Mart demanded. “Clambering capriciously in the cupola?”
“As a matter of fact,” Trixie said, sliding in beside him, “I was almost in the cupola. I climbed up to the belfry to have a look around.”
“What!” Brian exclaimed.
“Trixie!” Honey gasped. “How did you—”
“On the ladder,” Trixie said casually.
“You mean Sammy,” Jim said.
“Yeah, Sammy,” Mr. Johnson repeated. “He said he isn’t afraid to climb. He probably could have fixed that base in no time.” Wearily, Mr. Johnson rubbed his head. “Now it’s too late,” he said sadly.
Silently the Bob-Whites stared up at the high roof. The cupola looked oddly out of place without the handsome old weather vane in position.
“Well, I’d better get back to work,” Mr. Johnson said. “I’ve got some papers on my desk that have to go to a roofing contractor this afternoon. I must have been up and down those stairs a dozen times already today.”
“If you’re tired, I’ll go up and get them for you, Mr. Johnson,” Trixie offered quickly. “Just tell me what to look for.”
Mr. Johnson told Trixie where to find the papers, and she was off, running across the common to the front door of Town Hall. “See you at the car in a minute or two,” Trixie called back to the other Bob-Whites.
The heavy front door closed solidly behind Trixie, cutting off the traffic noises from outside as suddenly as turning off a radio. Inside, Town Hall seemed as quiet as a ghost town.
The two main meeting rooms on either side of the hallway were deserted. The long corridor that ran past the stairway was dark and gloomy-looking, and the stillness of the old building made Trixie feel she should walk softly. She went up the steep flight of stairs almost on tiptoe.
Mr. Johnson s office was at the far end of the second-floor corridor. The door was standing open. Trixie saw the folded papers on the desk where Mr. Johnson had said they would be. Tucking them into her jacket pocket, she started back down the hallway toward the stairs.
She had almost reached the stairs when she saw a door directly across from the stairway open slowly. A tall man backed out into the hall and soundlessly closed the door. Turning, he saw Trixie.
“Are you, uh, looking for someone?” Trixie asked, suddenly nervous.
“I’m looking for the caretaker’s office,” the man answered in an unfriendly tone.
“Oh.” Trixie forced herself to smile. “That’s it down there, at the end of the hall, but Mr. Johnson isn’t in now. He’s outside—”
“Thanks,” the man interrupted. He turned and started down the stairs.
“Mr. Johnson is right out in the common,” Trixie said helpfully.
“I’ll talk to him later,” the man called back, already at the bottom of the stairs.
“Jeepers!” Trixie scratched her head. “I wonder who that was.” She turned to look at the closed door through which the man had come. The door was unmarked.
Twisting the knob, Trixie opened the door and poked her head inside. The small square room was dirty and completely empty, except for a narrow steel ladder bolted to the floor in the middle of the room. The ladder went up to a hatch set in the high ceiling.
Curious, Trixie started to climb, counting each rung as she went. After thirteen rungs, her head was pressed against the hatch. Hooking one arm around the top rung, Trixie cautiously pushed the hatch open. She smelled fresh air.
“This is the belfry!” Trixie exclaimed aloud. She stretched her neck to look around the empty tower, noticing the worn wooden floor, the low arched openings, and the weathered ceiling with another hatch that led up into the cupola. “It isn’t much bigger than Bobby’s tree house,” Trixie muttered. Then she gasped. “And come to think of it, I think that man was the same one I saw from the tree house!”
Bad News • 9
TRIXIE FOUND the other Bob-Whites waiting impatiently in tie station wagon.
“Where have you been?” Mart demanded. “Clambering capriciously in the cupola?”
“As a matter of fact,” Trixie said, sliding in beside him, “I was almost in the cupola. I climbed up to the belfry to have a look around.”
“What!” Brian exclaimed.
“Trixie!” Honey gasped. “How did you—”
“On the ladder,” Trixie said casually.
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