Read The Mysterious Disappearence of Leon Online
Authors: Ellen Raskin
Tags: #Young Adult, #Mystery, #Humour, #Childrens
The Mysterious Disappearence of Leon (19 page)
“Horrible, it was horrible,” Otis Amber said with a shudder that sent the loose straps of his leather aviator’s helmet swinging about his long, thin face. ”Come to think of it, it happened exactly one year ago tonight. On Halloween.”
“What happened?” Theo Theodorakis asked impatiently. He was late for work in the coffee shop.
“Tell them, Otis,” Sandy urged.
The delivery boy stroked the gray stubble on his pointed chin. “Seems it all started with a bet; somebody bet them a dollar they couldn’t stay in that spooky house five minutes. One measly buck! The poor kids hardly got through those French doors on this side of the Westing house when they came tearing out like they was being chased by a ghost. Chased by a ghost—or wore.”
Or worse? Turtle forgot her throbbing toothache. Theo Theodorakis and Doug Hoo, older and more worldly-wise, exchanged winks but stayed to hear the rest of the story.
“One fella ran out crazy-like, screaming his head off. He never stopped screaming ’til he hit the rocks at the bottom of the cliff. The other fella hasn’t said but two words since. Something about purple.”
Sandy helped him out. “Purple waves.”
Otis Amber nodded sadly. “Yep, that poor fella just sits in the state asylum saying, ‘Purple waves, purple waves’ over and over again, and his scared eyes keep staring at his hands. You see, when he came running out of the Westing house, his hands was dripping with warm, red blood.”
Now all three shivered.
“Poor kid,” the doorman said. “All that pain and suffering for a dollar bet.”
“Make it two dollars for each minute I stay in there, and youʹre on,” Turtle said.
Someone was spying on the group in the driveway.
From the front window of apartment 2D, fifteen-year-old Chris Theodorakis watched his brother Theo shake hands (it must be a bet) with the skinny one-pigtailed girl and rush into the lobby. The family coffee shop would be busy now; his brother should have been working the counter half an hour ago. Chris checked the wall clock. Two more hours before Theo would bring up his dinner. Then he would tell him about the limper.
Earlier that afternoon Chris had followed the flight of a purple martin
(Progne subis)
across the field of brambles, through the oaks, up to the red maple on the hill. The bird flew off, but something else caught his eye. Someone (he could not tell if the person was a man or a woman) came out of the shadows on the lawn, unlocked the French doors, and disappeared into the Westing house. Someone with a limp. Minutes later smoke began to rise from the chimney.
Once again Chris turned toward the side window and scanned the house on the cliff. The French doors were closed; heavy drapes hung full against the seventeen windows he had counted so many times.
They didnʹt need drapes on the special glass windows here in Sunset Towers. He could see out, but nobody could see in. Then why did he sometimes feel that someone was watching him? Who could be watching him? God? If God was watching, then why was he like this?
The binoculars fell to the boy’s lap. His head jerked, his body coiled, lashed by violent spasms. Relax, Theo will come soon. Relax, soon the geese will be flying south in a V. Canada goose
(Branta canadensis).
Relax. Relax and watch the wind tangle the smoke and blow it toward Westingtown.
Pronounced like “carry on” with an “1” in between.
People have said they added dried ragweed ever since Albert I. Gluck set a new record of 7,794 consecutive sneezes ten minutes after eating a bowl of this soup.
One of Mr. Fish’s favorite expressions, along with “Boys will be boys.”
Little Dumpling had little to fear. Her father was a foot taller and fifty pounds heavier than Mr. Carillon.
Somewhere in this section is the clue to ?
The battle between good and evil when the world comes to an end. Miss Anna Oglethorpe obviously thought that the “good guys” were winning.
Message 12. Strange, for Leon had brown hair, but not impossible.
Some very important clues here. You don’t have to memorize all the messages as Mrs. Carillon did; a bookmark will do.
Hereupon referred to as the
glub-blubs.
That’s it! Copy it down, or memorize it; most of all, try to solve it.
Mrs. Carillon never again used the telephone after “don’t forget the pickles.”
It took Mrs. Carillon two weeks to figure out this solution, and two words are absolutely correct. Now, if it had taken her eight weeks...
A correct word appears twice in this list.
Only 47 states here. Alaska and Hawaii were not states when Mrs. Carillon made this list, but one is still missing.
The only Carillon she found was a registered Republican in New Iberia, Louisiana: Carillon, Casper. He was a seventy-five-year-old undertaker and no relation.
Also the name of a famous race horse.
Wrong! Mrs. Carillon said, “No soy sauce” in the Mandarin dialect, and the waiter only understood Fukien.
Mrs. Carillon didn’t know the difference between seals and sea lions, but no matter. Neither did Noel.
Sad as it may be, this section contains a most important clue to ....
Another clue! French is more important than Italian, but an English-language dictionary will do.
Sea lions, sea lions, sea lions!
SH 1-1212 is not Mrs. Carillon’s real phone number. It was changed here just in case some crank knows how to read.
Mrs. Carillon runs into someone very important to her. Guess who.
Guess again.
This section is for puzzle-people. Horse-lovers may skip to page 94 and continue reading.
If you want to complicate matters you can work with the two sounds: “No” (or “know”) and “el” (or “L.”).
You, too; but be sure to make your own chart. Penalty for writing in this or any other book: six months in a pest-hole.
A tricky one. Add “tse-tse” to list 1—2; and add “fly” to list 3.
There is a correct word in this section to add to the chart.
“Too many syllables,” Tony said.
Minnie who?
There are more people to investigate in Iowa.
And the unheard sounds . . . .
Or Mr. Banks, Tina thought, but kept that miserable idea to herself.
Rosemary Neuberger wasn’t the only one prone to pimples.
“On Wisconsin.”
Augie Kunkel won first prize a year later.
True. She thought Noel was the one who liked purple.
The pest-hole was finally closed down, and Miss Anna Oglethorpe was sent to a modern prison on Rikers Island, where she was very unhappy. She missed her pet rat.
NOVELS BY ELLEN RASKIN
The Mysterious Disappearance of Leon (I mean Noel)
Figgs & Phantoms
The Tattooed Potato and other clues
The Westing Game