The Road to Nevermore (4 page)

Outside the secrets-closet, a scarlet shape snaked away from the keyhole. It dimmed its glow until the children passed, and
then the manifestation silently inched along, hungry to hear what delicious new secrets they were keeping.

Billy and Millicent left the secret passageway through an equally secret door set in the dining room wall and continued toward
their bedrooms.

“I’m worried, Billy.”

Billy’s eyes narrowed. “We’ve got to do something, Mill. It’s all my fault.”

“Should we tell your parents?”

Billy stopped at the base of a winding staircase. “I don’t know… .” His words echoed through the grand hallway. The crystal
chandeliers tinkled with icy indifference.

Billy flumped onto the steps.

Millicent sat next to him. “We’ve got to have a plan.”

“Well, we know someone powerful who’s back and forth between the two worlds every day.”

“Your Uncle Grim?”

“He
did
help out before. The trick is to get in touch.” Billy looked skyward.

Millicent got up and walked absentmindedly in a small circle. A few muttering moments later she smiled. “I know a way. Think
about it. What’s your uncle’s job?”

“Hall of Reception’s chief field agent. When people die, he escorts their souls to the Afterlife.”

“Well there you have it, then.”

“Have what?”

“The answer, Billy.” Millicent cocked her head. “If we want to find Uncle Grim, all we have to do is wait near someone who
is about to pass away. Then Uncle Grim is bound to show up.”

“How do we do that?”

Millicent tilted her head more, until her exasperation looked like it would leak out of her ear.

“Martha’s uncle!” Billy jumped up.

Millicent nodded. “Yes, but let me handle it.”

“I’ll stay quiet as a bug’s breath.”

“You better.”

The children continued up the stairs, echoes of their voices skipping like pond stones and then sinking with a wobble into
the darkness.

A scarlet glow brightened at the base of the stairs, and Gossip’s snaky shape expanded.

Finally, sssomething worth sharing!

The manifestation drew the curtains separating this world from the next, and slithered through the shimmering hole.

Miss Cornelia Chippendale could have had any style of office she wanted: a Renaissance cathedral, faceted diamonds and pearls,
or a life-sized da Vinci mural. But Miss Chippendale preferred the look of ancient Egypt.

When Pickerel disappeared, she moved into his old office and brought along her temple: every glassy gold tile, sandstone block,
column, and flickering torch sconce.

Miss Chippendale smiled at her hunky servants. They fanned her with ostrich plumes, fed her bonbons, and massaged her feet
with sweet-smelling oils. Since taking over for Commissioner Pickerel, Miss Chippendale had gained almost as much weight as
power. Her robes were tight as an apple skin. With slashing strokes of her steel-nib pen, she dashed off her signature on
a tall stack of documents hovering in the air.

“Your ten o’clock appointment has arrived, madam,” Mr. Panderglass, her young assistant, informed her. Despite his handsome
features, he looked tired. Miss Chippendale’s growing rank had made him a very busy man.

“Oh yes … I’d quite forgotten.”

Mr. Panderglass bowed and disappeared as Gossip, her loyal snoop, slithered in.

Miss Chippendale smiled politely. “So good to see you, my friend.”

Gossip glided through the air toward the dais, moving with the grace of a python. Miss Chippendale conjured up a smaller version
of her own throne and Gossip gratefully curled up among its purple silk cushions.

“Ssso good to sssee you, too, my dear,” Gossip hissed in a voice swirling with empty echoes and whistling wind. “Not to put
businesss before pleassssantries, but I do have a bit of information.”

Miss Chippendale briskly rubbed her palms. “My, my. But where are my manners?” She clapped her hands. A small assortment of
teacakes appeared between the two thrones. A teapot poured itself into two fancy china cups. “Now, my friend, you were saying?”

The manifestation wasn’t saying much. It was too busy stuffing its mouth and slurping tea. Miss Chippendale looked into her
teacup. “I am most curious about what’s brought you here today.”

“Yesss, information you’ll find essspecially comforting. I know how dedicated you were to your old bossss, Commissioner Pickerel.”

“Quite.” Miss Chippendale said, eyelids draped over a sideways glance.

The manifestation inched forward. “Usually, my information is free as the sssslither on a sssnake, but I’ve a price this time.”

Miss Chippendale’s smile dripped with faked concern. “Which is?”

“I’m not as fetching as I once wasss … I wouldn’t mind a little refurbishing… .”

The temporary commissioner took a long sip, studying the manifestation like it was a pinned bug. Then she leaned forward,
patting Gossip’s hand. “My good, good friend, Gossip. You’ve been so helpful these last few years, I don’t want you wasting
one golden wish on restoring yourself. The Black Grotto Spa seems just the ticket. You’ll be back to your old self in no time.”
She smiled graciously. “Stay as long as you like. And put it all on my account.”

Gossip offered a simpering nod and recounted how Billy and Millicent trapped the commissioner with Pete’s help, and shared
their new plans to contact Grim.

Miss Chippendale was silent for a moment, her brows a single ominous stroke. Then she swung her arms overhead and clapped.
Two servants appeared. Bowing crisply, they lifted Gossip onto a cushion. Before there was time to offer any thanks, they
had already paraded Gossip out of the temple.

“Cheers, my dear. I’m sure you’ll love every moment,” Miss Chippendale called out, and when the doors banged closed she added,
“in Nevermore.”

Miss Chippendale sighed as she inspected the dazzling rings on her fingers. This boy, Billy, and that girl, Millicent: they
had caused problems for the Investigative Branch before. And now it appeared they were behind Pickerel’s disappearance. If
they could trap the commissioner, they could also choose to release him. Miss Chippendale had grown to like her new job far
too much to let that happen.

Billy’s first opportunity to ask Martha about her uncle came the next morning. “Oooooh, but it’s a gloomy morning. Looks like
a storm’s brewing,” Martha said, sweeping open his curtains. “Certain as a nod bobs your noggin.”

Billy hesitated.

After all, one doesn’t usually ask, “Is your uncle going to die today?”— at least not first thing in the morning. Also, Billy
had promised Millicent he’d wait for her. They needed a gentle way into the matter and would never dream of hurting their
dear nanny’s feelings.

Martha continued around the room, picking up carelessly dropped clothing. She stopped mid-bustle and stared at Billy. “I sent
you to bed clean and now you’re covered in dust.”

“Sorry, Martha, I’m afraid I had an awful nightmare. I took a little walk.”

“Oh you poor thing … I should have been up to help you. Had a sleepless night myself.” Martha plucked at Billy’s hair with
a concerned squint.

A short time later, Billy, scrubbed spic-and-span, joined Millicent and Dame Biglum in the dining room. He was wearing navy
blue shorts and a sailor shirt. Millicent had on a bright red corduroy jumper. The table was decked out with stacks of toast
slicked gold with honey, platters of bacon, and several small mountains of pancakes.

After breakfast, Billy and Millicent looked for the right opening to ask Martha about her uncle. But it didn’t come right
away. She proceeded through her day in her typical sunny manner, and the children watched, hoping for even a frown. They peered
over their books during reading hour; stared at her through the deep-sea aquarium while she fed the giant squids; spied while
she sprinkled Brazil nuts for the macaws in the aviary; and they dropped more than a few notes during violin lessons. They
were paying more attention to the clicks of Martha’s heels than the metronome.