Mystery of the Dark Tower by Evelyn Coleman

walk off and leave his children, would he? Didn’t he bring Bessie and Eddie with him to Harlem? No, the only way Papa would do something like this was if someone put a conjure on him. Bessie knew she needed to find this Miss A. woman and break her spell.
    Bessie stuffed the note from Miss A. into her pocket. She had just begun folding everything back into the suitcase when the door creaked open.
    Bessie jumped up.
    â€œB-B-Bessie—” Eddie said, peeping inside, alarm on his face.
    It was too late. Bessie could hear footsteps at the top of the stairs. She quickly pulled Eddie into the room. She flung the last shirt into the suitcase.
    The footsteps were outside the door. Bessie expected the door to fly open any second. She pushed Eddie under the bed and scooted after him. Bessie pulled the bedspread down so it hid them from sight. But the footsteps continued on past Papa’s room.
    Bessie cupped her hand over Eddie’s ear so her whisper wouldn’t carry. “Was it Papa?”
    â€œI-I-I d-d-don’t know,” Eddie whispered back to her.
    â€œShhhhh,” Bessie said as she heard the door of Papa’s room squeak open.
    The footsteps moved to where Bessie had left the suitcase. She swallowed. She had been in such a hurry, she had forgotten to close the suitcase and stand it back against the wall behind the bed.
    Bessie heard the sound of the suitcase lid thudding shut. Then the tapping of a foot. The footsteps came closer and closer to the bed. Bessie wished she had left enough room between the bedspread’s hem and the floor so she could peep out. Did she dare lift the bedspread up?
    Then Bessie felt Eddie shifting behind her. Not a lot, but enough to hear the swishing sound of his pajamas on the hardwood floor. Bessie couldn’t risk moving to signal him to be still. She squeezed her eyes shut and prayed that if it was Papa, he wouldn’t hear. Bessie could hear the person’s shallow breathing. Whoever it was was still in the room. But the person hadn’t moved for a while. Bessie wished she could see what was happening.
    The footsteps sounded again, heading for the door. Bessie heard the door creaking, and then shutting. She breathed a sigh of relief. Finally she and Eddie could sneak back into their room.
    â€œ Achoo. Aaaaaaachhooooo, ” Eddie sneezed. “I-I-I’m sorry,” he quickly whispered.
    The door opened again. Boom, boom, boom . Three steps and the person was at the bedspread. Bessie could barely make out a shadow, but it had to be Papa. Aunt Nellie wouldn’t walk across the room in three giant steps. Oh, no , Bessie thought. Maybe she should peep out now to see. But it was too late. A wrinkled brown hand lifted up the bedspread.
    Bessie stared at thick-soled black shoes. Then her eyes followed the trail to the bulky brown stockings tied in a knot just below the knees.
    â€œJust what are you two doing under that bed?” the woman said. “Get out from under there this minute! You don’t belong in here.”
    Bessie crawled out. Eddie followed. It was Aunt Esther. Bessie had seen her at Grandma’s funeral, bossing everyone around.
    â€œLook at you children with all that dust on you. What are you doing snooping in this room, anyway?”
    â€œGood morning, Aunt Esther,” Bessie said, dusting her clothes off.
    â€œBaby Sister, get up here right now,” Aunt Esther shouted, ignoring Bessie.
    â€œW-w-we were cleaning under th-th-the b-b-bed,” Eddie said, looking like he’d eaten a mouse.
    â€œYou what? Don’t tell lies, boy. I can’t abide liars in my house. And why are you stuttering so terribly? Slow down, and you can talk clearer.”
    â€œWe’re sorry, Aunt Esther,” Bessie said. “Eddie was just making a joke.”
    Aunt Nellie walked in. She looked different—tired. “Yes, what is it?” she asked Aunt Esther.
    â€œI want to know why these children were hiding