Hotel For Dogs (9 page)

“The ghost of Red Rover is going to get his revenge!”

They planned it for midnight.

“After all,” Andi said, “midnight is the spookiest time. Besides, everyone will be asleep by then — Mom and Dad and Aunt Alice and all the Gordons.”

“Are you sure you can get the projector?” Tim asked.

“No problem,” Bruce told him. “Dad lets me use it whenever I want it. All I have to do is ask him to let me show some slides after dinner and then not return it until morning. What about an extension cord?”

“I can get that,” Tim said. “My parents have a lot of them.”

They grinned at one another excitedly, hardly able to believe the thing they were going to do. It was truly, as Andi had said, the best idea she had ever come up with.

“We’ll have to get Debbie,” she said now. “She should be in on it, too. Why don’t I invite her to spend the night? I know Mom will let me. Aunt Alice says she likes having children around.”

“I’ll tell my mom and dad I’m spending the night with Bruce,” Tim said. “Then I’ll go over to the hotel and dog-sit Preston. At a quarter to twelve, I’ll meet you in front of your house.” His blue eyes were sparkling. “Do you think it really will work?”

“Of course it will work,” Andi said decidedly. “It has to!”

That evening was the longest that Bruce and Andi ever had sat through. Even the fact that Debbie was with them, having been given permission to eat dinner there and spend the night, did not make the hours move faster. After the dishes were cleared away, Bruce suggested showing slides, and Mr. Walker happily agreed. They spent an hour looking at pictures of the Southwest — of the big adobe house where they had lived, of the mountains stretching their purple tips into the sky, of aspen trees and tumbleweeds and arroyos. The last slide that Bruce showed was of a little brown dachshund with a pointed face.

“That’s Bebe,” Andi said softly to Debbie. Suddenly all the old homesickness for her pet flooded through her, as sharp and painful as it had been on the day she had said good-bye. “Oh, I wish she were here now — I miss her so much!”

“You’ll be seeing her soon, honey,” Mrs. Walker said, smiling. “Now that we know we’re in Elmwood to stay, we’ll find a place of our own and get settled and send for Bebe to be flown out on the very next plane.”

“Are those all the slides you have, son?” Mr. Walker asked as Bruce turned off the projector and reached for the light. “Haven’t you taken any pictures since we got to Elmwood?”

“Well, yes,” Bruce said. “But I thought we could look at those another time. It’s bedtime now, isn’t it?”

“Already?” His mother looked surprised. “Since Andi has a houseguest and tomorrow’s a holiday, I thought you might want to stay up a little later than usual and pop some corn and play games the way we used to do back in Albuquerque.”

“That’s okay, Mom,” Andi said hastily. “Debbie and I are tired, too. I think we should all go to bed now.”

“That’s a good idea,” Debbie agreed, giving a great yawn. “I’m awfully sleepy. I’m used to going to bed early.”

“All right,” Mrs. Walker said, looking more surprised than ever. “I know Bruce has been tired lately, but you girls, too? They must be working you terribly hard at school. I wonder if I should talk to your teachers.”

She was still worrying out loud to Mr. Walker when the three children left the room.

Any other night Bruce would have slept the moment his head touched the pillow. Tonight, though, things were different. He could hear the alarm clock ticking through the pillow right into his ear as it always did, but he was too keyed up to let it tick him into slumber. Instead, he lay there listening, wide awake and alert to everything around him.

He could hear his parents and Aunt Alice talking in the living room.
How long,
he wondered,
were they going to stay up?
He could hear the trees rustling outside his window. He could even hear his own heart beating strongly against his chest.

It seemed forever before he heard the adults’ footsteps on the stairs and their voices pitched low as they bade each other good night.

How long would it take for them to go to sleep? Huddled under a blanket, he counted the seconds, making them into minutes, sixty seconds to one minute, sixty minutes to one hour. Flicking on the light on the end table, he pulled the clock out from under his pillow and looked at the dial. Only a quarter to eleven. One whole hour to go.

He was sure that Andi and Debbie were lying awake in Andi’s fold-down bed in the sewing room, whispering together, too excited to sleep, just as he was. He wished they were here with him so they could at least share the waiting.

“It will never get there,” he told himself, looking at the minute hand that seemed solidly stuck in place against the face of the clock. “I’ll lie here the rest of my life, and it never, ever will move.”

But, as it turned out, at some time between then and a quarter to twelve, he fell asleep, and it took the muffled jangle of the alarm to bring him to.

He had been sleeping so hard that for a moment he thought it was five o’clock and time for Red’s dawn run. Then, almost immediately, he remembered. Getting quickly up from the sofa, he pulled on the clothes that he had laid out on the chair beside him.

The light was on in the front hallway, and the girls were already there, waiting for him.

“We never even took our clothes off,” Andi told him. “We just pulled the blankets up over them. We’ve been counting the minutes on Debbie’s watch.”

Bruce shushed her with a finger against his lips, and they put on their jackets in silence.

Debbie whispered, “The projector?”

It was standing by the front door where Bruce had left it. He drew a quick breath of relief that his father had not noticed it there and put it away.

Picking it up with one hand, he opened the door with the other, and the three slipped out into the night.

The moment the door was shut behind them, the darkness closed in from all sides.

Debbie gave a little gasp. “It’s so black! We’ll never find our way.”

There was a sudden burst of light, and Tim spoke. “I brought a flashlight. Are you all set?” His voice was gruff with suppressed excitement.

“Did you bring the extension cord?” Bruce asked him.

“Sure did. Where can we plug it in?”

“The Gordons have an outdoor outlet on the side of the house,” Bruce said. “I’ve seen Mr. Gordon plug in his electric grill there. Shine the light ahead of us and follow me.”

Moving quietly, they crossed the lawn and stepped into the Gordons’ side yard. The outlet was exactly where Bruce had thought it was. Tim plugged in the extension cord and attached the projector to the receiving end.

“I hope it’s long enough,” Debbie whispered.

“So do I,” Tim said. “I didn’t realize the outlet would be quite so far from Jerry’s window. We’ll just have to see.”

With Bruce carrying the projector, they continued along the wall of the house. The ground-level window of Jerry’s room loomed ahead of him. When they reached it, they stopped.

“Are you sure this is his bedroom?” Andi asked doubtfully. “Does he really sleep in the basement?”

“If you could see the room, you’d forget it was part of a basement,” Tim told her. “It’s like a private rec room with a king-size bed in it.”

Dropping to his knees, he pressed his face close to
the window. “It’s pitch black in there. He’s sure to be sleeping. Are you ready with the projector?”

“Ready,” Bruce said.

Crouching beside Tim, he set the machine in place and felt in his pocket for the slide. For a moment he was afraid that he had not brought it with him. Then his fingers closed around it, and with a sigh of relief he inserted it into the carousel.

“Okay,” he said tensely. “We’re ready. Let’s hear it, Andi — the ghost of Red Rover! Loud enough to reach Jerry but not his parents.”

Andi drew a deep breath. Then she opened her mouth and let out a howl. She started low, just as Preston had, and let the long, mournful wail rise in her throat, higher and higher. The result was so weird and chilling that Bruce felt shivers go up his spine even though he knew it was only his sister.

“Lean closer,” he whispered. “The window is open about halfway. Let him have it full blast. He’s got to be an awfully heavy sleeper to sleep through that.”

Crowding in between the two boys, Andi howled again, her mouth close to the opening in the window.

From inside the room came a muffled, sleepy voice.

“What the heck — that crazy noise again —”

“He’s awake!” Debbie whispered excitedly. “Now, Bruce! Now!”

Bruce pressed the button to turn on the projector. The beam of light shot through the window above Jerry’s bed and fell upon the wall directly across from them. At first it was just a blur of light and color. In the reflected glow, they could see Jerry directly beneath the window, sitting up in bed.

“What’s happening?” he demanded, the sleep gone from his voice. “What’s that? Who — where —?”

“Howl!” Bruce whispered, and Andi howled. It was the best howl so far. It rose and rose in a frightful wail and ended with a wild, tearing sound, like an animal in agonizing pain.

At the same instant, Bruce brought the projector into focus. The blur of light steadied, and into the middle of it, sharp and clear, came the face of Red Rover.

Bruce had snapped the picture with the dog looking straight into the camera lens. His proud head was lifted into the sunlight; his mouth was open
slightly, showing straight white teeth. To Jerry it must have seemed as if Red’s huge brown eyes were staring directly into his very soul.

For a long moment there was no sound from the room in the basement. Then suddenly there was a great shriek. It was so loud and terrified that the four listeners, crouched on the ground outside the window, nearly jumped out of their skins.

“Mom!” Jerry yelled. “Dad! Help! Help! Come here quick!”

The windows of the front room on the second floor went bright with lights.

“Hurry, Bruce,” Tim whispered frantically. “His parents are up!”

Bruce flicked off the light of the projector.

“Run!” he whispered. “Run!”

No one had to be told twice. The girls were already at the boundary line that separated the Gordons’ house from Aunt Alice’s. Tim was close behind them. Jerry’s voice filled the darkness in frantic shouts for his parents.

Scrambling to his feet, Bruce started after the others. He had almost caught up with them when he felt the projector jerked from his hands. To his horror, he heard it go crashing to the ground.

“Oh, no!” With a gasp of dismay, he knelt down and began groping about in the darkness. His hands closed upon the machine. He lifted it, and it rattled in his hands. A dark shape appeared beside him. Tim had come back to help.

“What happened?” he asked.

“I forgot to unplug it,” Bruce told him. “It was stupid, but when Jerry started yelling, I just ran. When I came to the end of the cord, the projector snapped out of my grip. I’ve smashed it.”

“Well, there’s no sense worrying now,” Tim said. “If it’s broken, it’s broken. Come on, let’s get a move on! They’ll be out here any minute to investigate.”

The Gordons’ house was ablaze with lights, upstairs and down. Every room seemed to have lights in it. Jerry’s voice could still be heard shouting something about “Red’s ghost! He’s come back to get me!” Other voices, the soft mother tones, the lower father ones, floated across the lawn from the bedroom window.

Bruce got to his feet, clutching the projector.

“This is Dad’s,” he said. “And the cord —” He felt for the place where the electric cord fitted through the metal casing.

“Come on,” Tim urged him. “We’ve got to run, Bruce!”

He whirled and broke away into the darkness with Bruce on his heels. Just as they rounded the corner of Aunt Alice’s house, the door of the Gordons’ house swung open.

Mr. Gordon stepped out and flicked a switch that turned on floodlights, illuminating the whole backyard.

“Now we’ll see what this monkey business is all about,” he said loudly. His voice carried clearly across the night to the four children who stood, panting in the shadows of Aunt Alice’s rosebushes.

“We made it,” Andi gasped. “He didn’t see us.” There was a note of triumph in her voice.

“No, he didn’t see us,” Bruce said quietly, “but there’s something else that he
will
see. The cord’s been ripped out of the projector, and it’s still attached to the extension cord, and that’s in the outlet in the wall of the Gordons’ house.”

Thanksgiving Day passed quietly. It was a strange, still sort of day with the sky clear and blue and the cold of almost-winter settled over everything.

Debbie left for home soon after breakfast in order to share the holiday with her own family. The Walkers and Aunt Alice went to church and came home for the traditional turkey dinner. Then Mr. Walker brought in some wood, and they sat together in front of the fireplace to enjoy the first fire of the season. There was no sound from the hotel.

“Preston must have settled down at last,” Andi whispered to Bruce in one of the few private moments they had together. “He looked really at home there when I sneaked over this morning to take the dogs their breakfast.”

“Everything’s too quiet,” Bruce said uneasily.
“It’s like the stillness before a thunderstorm. It’s a getting-ready sort of feeling.”

His stomach felt sick and queasy under its load of turkey and dressing.

“The projector cord is gone out of the outlet. I looked over there after church. It won’t be long now before Jerry brings his father over here, and they’ll talk to Dad, and the whole story will be out.”

“I don’t think so,” Andi said confidently. “Just having the cord won’t tell them where it came from. They’ll guess how the ghost trick worked, but they won’t know who did it. If they do come over, all we’ll have to do is act like we don’t know what they’re talking about.”

“The projector’s smashed,” Bruce reminded her grimly. “Do you think Dad’s not going to notice that? Especially when the cord’s torn out of it and a matching cord has turned up in the Gordons’ wall?”

“Stop worrying, Bruce. It’s Thanksgiving. We have lots of things to be thankful for.” Andi would not be depressed. “The scheme worked perfectly. Just hearing Jerry scream — wasn’t that worth anything?
‘Help! A ghost! A ghost!’
” She giggled at the memory. “And Dad’s going to be working right
here in Elmwood. Think how cool that is. We’ll be close enough to keep up the hotel. Imagine if we’d had to move again halfway across the country. What would we have done with the dogs?”

“I guess you’re right,” Bruce said, and he tried to feel thankful. But the cold, waiting feeling remained inside him. All the rest of the day he fought it, but by nightfall it was still there as solid as ever. Something — and not a good something — was going to happen.

When the “something” did occur, it was the next morning. Andi knew about it first. The doorbell rang just as she was carrying her cereal bowl to the kitchen.

“It’s probably the man from the real-estate agency,” said Mrs. Walker, drying her hands on a dish towel. “When I talked with him on Wednesday, he said he’d be over first thing this morning, but I didn’t know it would be quite this early.”

“You mean we’re going to look at houses?” Andi asked her.

“We certainly are,” her mother said happily. “Aunt Alice is a wonderful, kind, good, generous person, but, oh, Andi, you can’t imagine how happy I’ll be to have a house of our own again!”

The man from the agency was named Mr. Crabtree. He was short and bald with a black mustache and a precise, decided manner.

“Let’s see if I have your requirements correct,” he said in a businesslike voice as he drew a sheet of paper from his briefcase. “You want a living room and a family room with a fireplace. At least three bedrooms. A big backyard with trees and plantings.”

“That’s right,” Mrs. Walker said. “And if possible we’d like it in this neighborhood. I’d hate to make the children change schools again.”

Mr. Crabtree frowned. “Well, that makes things a bit more difficult. Most of the houses I had listed for you to look at are in other school districts. There’s one, though, the Brower place, which might be just what you’re looking for. Would you like to see it now?”

“Yes, indeed,” Mrs. Walker said eagerly. “I’ll get my coat. Can we take your car? My husband has ours at work.”

“We won’t need to drive,” Mr. Crabtree said. “It’s right down the street.”

“It’s
what
?” Andi felt a sudden chill sweep over her. “Oh, Mom, no — we don’t want that house! It’s old. It’s shabby. The yard’s all overgrown.”

“Houses can be painted,” Mrs. Walker said comfortably, “and grass can be cut, and I like old houses. They have a nice, lived-in feeling to them. Besides, how convenient it would be to live close to Aunt Alice! We could visit her every day, and she’d never feel lonely again.”

“Mom, no. Please. Let’s not go over there!” Andi was almost weeping.

Her mother regarded her with bewilderment. “Of course, I’m going over there. Why shouldn’t I? Really, Andi, this isn’t at all like you. Don’t you want to come with me? You’ve never seen the inside of that house, either.”

“I don’t — you can’t!” Andi whirled and went tearing down the hall. “Bruce! Bruce! Where are you? Bruce, the thing you were scared of — it’s happened!”

Bruce was in the den, trying to study. He glanced up when his sister came rushing in. One look at her face was enough to drain the color from his own.

“What is it? What’s happened?” He was out of his chair in a minute. “Who was that at the door? Mr. Gordon and Jerry?”

“No, worse. Much worse.” Andi could hardly get the words out. “A real-estate agent’s here, and he’s taking Mom to look at houses, and the first house they’re going to look at is our house! The dogs’ house! The
hotel
!”

“Oh, no!” Bruce was down the hall and out the door like a bullet.

By the time he had reached the sidewalk, he knew it was too late. His mother and Mr. Crabtree were already standing on the front steps of the hotel, and Aunt Alice was with them. Mr. Crabtree was fitting a key into the lock.

“It’s a roomy house,” he was saying. “Just the number of rooms you are looking for. The people who owned it had to leave suddenly. I think their son had some sort of emotional problem and couldn’t adjust here.”

“Mom!” Bruce shouted, and his mother turned to wave at him.

“Come with us, dear,” she called cheerily. “We may be getting our first look at our new home!”

“It’s too late, Bruce.” Andi echoed his own thoughts as she caught up with him. “It’s too late to do anything now except pray.”

Shoulder to shoulder, like prisoners going to face a firing squad, they followed their mother and Mr. Crabtree into the familiar brown house.

The moment they were in the hallway, Aunt Alice started sneezing.

“How odd!” she said. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think there was animal hair around here someplace. I feel just the way I do when — when — when —
atchooooo!”

“Bless you,” said Mrs. Walker. “Perhaps it’s dust. Although it does look clean, doesn’t it, for having sat empty for so many months?”

“This is the living room,” Mr. Crabtree was saying. “Hardwood floors, you’ll notice. The master bedroom is on the first floor also. If you’ll just follow me —” With quick, efficient steps, he led the way down the hall toward the pink bedroom.

“I can’t watch,” Andi breathed. “Oh, Bruce, I just can’t!”

She shut her eyes tightly.

A shriek split the air. “There’s something in there!” Aunt Alice screamed. “It’s — it’s —
atchoooo!
It’s a dog!”

“It’s two dogs!” Mrs. Walker cried, as Friday and
MacTavish shot past her and came racing down the hall to Bruce and Andi.

“How incredible! How could they have gotten in here?” Mr. Crabtree blinked his eyes in amazement.

“It seems impossible —”

From the floor above them, a deep, melodious voice broke into a howl. It rose higher and higher in a mournful beagle wail.

“That’s the sound we heard the other day!” Mrs. Walker exclaimed. “It’s coming from upstairs!” She started briskly down the hall.

“Wait, wait, Mrs. Walker! Don’t go up there alone.” Mr. Crabtree came hurrying after her. “Let me go first. It might be something dangerous.” Pressing his way past her, he started up the stairway.

Andi choked back a sob. “They’re going to find Preston!”

“And Tiffany’s pups.” Bruce’s face was strained and white. “But they haven’t found Red yet. I’m going back to the family room and see if I can get him out through the window. I’ll hide him somewhere, even if I have to run away with him. They can’t find him and give him back to Jerry — they just can’t!”

Turning quickly, he ran down the hall toward the back of the house. At that moment, another scream broke forth from Aunt Alice. Preston, followed by the five joyful Bulldales, came tearing down the stairs to greet their company.

“Dear heaven!” Mrs. Walker gasped, clutching at the railing to keep from being knocked over as the string of dogs shot past her. “Why, it’s — it’s like a — a zoo!”

“Believe me, Mrs. Walker, Mrs. Scudder —” Mr. Crabtree appeared at the top of the stairs. His mustache was twitching nervously. “Believe me, ladies, I had no idea. I still have no idea. This has never happened before. Never at any house on our list.”

“Atchoooo! Atchoooo! Atchoooo!”
Aunt Alice leaned weakly against the wall, helpless with sneezing. Her eyes were watering so hard that great tears rolled down her round cheeks.

“You poor dear!” Mrs. Walker rushed over to put an arm around the elderly lady. “Here, let me help you! Andi, come take her other arm! We have to get her outside!”

“Here, Aunt Alice! Lean on me!” A little frightened by the violence of her aunt’s attack, Andi
helped to steer the wheezing woman down the hall to the front door.

She really is allergic,
she thought.
She wasn’t just making it up. No wonder she didn’t want Bebe to stay with us.

They stepped through the doorway into the fresh chill air, and Aunt Alice drew a shaky breath and wiped at her teary eyes.

“That was dreadful!” she gasped. “Just dreadful! All those animals! How did they get in there?”

“I don’t know, dear,” Mrs. Walker said. “Mr. Crabtree will find out.”

“Indeed I will,” Mr. Crabtree told them. Not only his mustache, but his whole face, was twitching with outrage. He pulled his cell phone out of his coat pocket. “I’ll call the pound. They’ll send a wagon for those beasts.”

“You can’t do that!” Andi burst out wretchedly. “You can’t let them be dragged off and put to sleep! They’re nice dogs. They couldn’t help being where they were and having Aunt Alice allergic to them.”

“Of course they couldn’t help it,” Mrs. Walker said. “Nobody’s blaming the poor animals. They have no homes and nobody to take care of them.
I’m sure they were eager for any shelter they could find.”

“But they do have a home! They are taken care of!” Andi cried. “Delaney Belanger owns Preston, and I own Friday, and Tim sort of owns MacTavish, now that he’s gotten used to him. Tiffany owns the Bulldales, and Bruce —” She stopped herself before she got to Bruce. “They’re our dogs, all of them! They can’t be lugged off to the pound!”

“You and Bruce and Tim —” Mrs. Walker repeated in confusion.

“And Debbie, too. She’s a partner.” Andi was really crying now.

“What exactly is it that you’re trying to tell me?” Her mother’s voice was low and controlled. “I want the truth, not one of your stories. Are you children responsible for this menagerie? Have you been keeping eight dogs here in this house?”

“I think the count is nine,” a man’s voice said quietly. “Look who I found headed down the street as I was on my way home to lunch.”

Blinking back her tears, Andi saw Mr. Gordon coming toward them along the sidewalk, and Bruce and Red Rover were with him.