locate one. Then he stepped inside. He was only a few feet away from the strange outline when he realized he was looking at a skeleton. For a second the boy stared, blinking, then he turned around and something struck him right in the face.
Arthur yelped and ran out of the room. When he looked behind, he saw something flitting back and forth. He was about to label his bat-hunt a success and leave, when he realized the moving thing was long and threadlike. It was only the pull cord of a light switch, he saw with disgust. It was hanging from the light fixture. He had hit the little metal bit at the end with his face.
He entered the room again and turned the light on. A few faded maps with strange countries hung on the walls, along with a blackboard. A chart of multiplication tables stood in one corner and a child’s record player in another. This was a schoolroom, he realized. How horrible it must be to have one in your own house.
He swaggered over to the skeleton with the air of a doctor about to examine a patient. But the nearer he came the less confident he felt. Hesitantly, he touched one of its skinny arm bones and poked a hip. The skeleton swayed slightly, dangling from a wire through its skull. Its bones were wired together as well. It certainly looked and felt real.
The boy gave the skeleton one disdainful push to show he wasn’t scared of it, then ran for his life when it rattled violently and swung back at him. He was about to start shrieking for help when Briarly’s door opened. Her face appeared around the doorframe, probing for the source of the noise.
Arthur walked boldly past, giving her a severe look. She scowled at him and shut her door again. The boy gasped with relief. That skeleton had almost been too much.
Then he remembered he still didn’t know where the attic was and retraced his steps to the black velvet curtain. When he drew the curtain aside, a door was behind it. A hidden door! He had been right!
Beyond it were stairs leading upwards. The attic, he thought with triumph. He climbed up, opened the door at the top, and stepped into a small room. Anemic light came from a dirty window. The roof slanted above his head, showing the undersides of some rafters and plenty of cobwebs, but no bats.
Disappointed, he approached the window, stirring up dust as he walked. There were two sets of footprints in the dust, one his own, and the other a larger set, an adult’s prints. Someone had walked over to the window, then back. From the lack of other prints, Arthur could tell no one else had been in the attic for a long time. He looked out the window and saw Heydrick climbing out of a pickup truck with a paper sack. The gardener must have been shopping. Then Arthur glanced aside and saw something resting on a pair of dusty cardboard boxes.
It was a CD case, and he picked it up. Though the insert was still there, the case held no disk. On the cover was a truculent-looking black guy holding a gun and scowling through sunglasses. The case was labeled ‘Jazzy F*KU.’
Arthur frowned. He couldn’t remember where he’d heard that name before. One of the grownups must have lost the CD case or something. He set the case back on the boxes and left the attic.
He was careful to shut both doors and slide the curtain back, then he galloped downstairs to the first floor. At the bottom he collided with Bert, sending a cylinder of whisky sour shooting out of his father’s glass.
“Sorry, Dad.”
“Kid--!”
“Hey, I found a CD case,” said the boy hurriedly. “Jazzy F*KU. Did somebody lose it?”
Arthur was not used to being able to distract his father at moments like this, so when Bert emptied the rest of the glass all over the carpet, the boy was surprised.
“Where?” Cummings demanded.
“In the attic.”
Bert set his glass down on a side table and the two climbed rapidly, Arthur impressed at the speed
Arthur yelped and ran out of the room. When he looked behind, he saw something flitting back and forth. He was about to label his bat-hunt a success and leave, when he realized the moving thing was long and threadlike. It was only the pull cord of a light switch, he saw with disgust. It was hanging from the light fixture. He had hit the little metal bit at the end with his face.
He entered the room again and turned the light on. A few faded maps with strange countries hung on the walls, along with a blackboard. A chart of multiplication tables stood in one corner and a child’s record player in another. This was a schoolroom, he realized. How horrible it must be to have one in your own house.
He swaggered over to the skeleton with the air of a doctor about to examine a patient. But the nearer he came the less confident he felt. Hesitantly, he touched one of its skinny arm bones and poked a hip. The skeleton swayed slightly, dangling from a wire through its skull. Its bones were wired together as well. It certainly looked and felt real.
The boy gave the skeleton one disdainful push to show he wasn’t scared of it, then ran for his life when it rattled violently and swung back at him. He was about to start shrieking for help when Briarly’s door opened. Her face appeared around the doorframe, probing for the source of the noise.
Arthur walked boldly past, giving her a severe look. She scowled at him and shut her door again. The boy gasped with relief. That skeleton had almost been too much.
Then he remembered he still didn’t know where the attic was and retraced his steps to the black velvet curtain. When he drew the curtain aside, a door was behind it. A hidden door! He had been right!
Beyond it were stairs leading upwards. The attic, he thought with triumph. He climbed up, opened the door at the top, and stepped into a small room. Anemic light came from a dirty window. The roof slanted above his head, showing the undersides of some rafters and plenty of cobwebs, but no bats.
Disappointed, he approached the window, stirring up dust as he walked. There were two sets of footprints in the dust, one his own, and the other a larger set, an adult’s prints. Someone had walked over to the window, then back. From the lack of other prints, Arthur could tell no one else had been in the attic for a long time. He looked out the window and saw Heydrick climbing out of a pickup truck with a paper sack. The gardener must have been shopping. Then Arthur glanced aside and saw something resting on a pair of dusty cardboard boxes.
It was a CD case, and he picked it up. Though the insert was still there, the case held no disk. On the cover was a truculent-looking black guy holding a gun and scowling through sunglasses. The case was labeled ‘Jazzy F*KU.’
Arthur frowned. He couldn’t remember where he’d heard that name before. One of the grownups must have lost the CD case or something. He set the case back on the boxes and left the attic.
He was careful to shut both doors and slide the curtain back, then he galloped downstairs to the first floor. At the bottom he collided with Bert, sending a cylinder of whisky sour shooting out of his father’s glass.
“Sorry, Dad.”
“Kid--!”
“Hey, I found a CD case,” said the boy hurriedly. “Jazzy F*KU. Did somebody lose it?”
Arthur was not used to being able to distract his father at moments like this, so when Bert emptied the rest of the glass all over the carpet, the boy was surprised.
“Where?” Cummings demanded.
“In the attic.”
Bert set his glass down on a side table and the two climbed rapidly, Arthur impressed at the speed
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