Page 20 of Hoodoo House
“As usual,” Charlie replied. “I gotta go.”
Who the fuck is Michael?
Chapter Seven
Henry was working on a math assignment in the kitchen when the phone rang. He usually wouldn’t answer it. That was Gramma Carol’s job, and he knew it wouldn’t be for him. He never got phone calls.
After the second ring, Henry remembered that the answering machine wasn’t going to pick up because it had been broken when Mr Tull had thrown it across the room last month. Henry decided he’d better answer the phone so that it wouldn’t wake Gramma Carol up from her afternoon nap.
“Good afternoon, Henry Quill speaking. How may I direct your call?”
“Is Malcolm Tull in?” a deep voice at the other end of the line asked. “I need to speak with him. It’s urgent.”
It had been over a week since Mr Tull’s body had been discovered in the writing room and Henry decided that the truth was the easiest way to deal with the caller.
“Mr Tull’s dead. Can I help you?”
There was silence on the line then the caller disconnected.
“Huh. Rude,” Henry said to himself as he hung up the phone.
Two math questions later, the phone rang again. Henry answered. He thought he’d handled the first call quite professionally and perhaps Gramma Carol would let him become the official Hoodoo House receptionist. He could use the salary. Comic book prices were going up, after all.
“Good afternoon, Hoodoo House, Henry Quill speaking. How may I direct your call?”
“Henry. What are you doing answering the phone?”
It was Mr Yamada.
“Gramma Carol’s lying down for her afternoon nap and the answering machine’s still broken.”
“Look, would you let her know that a private detective named Declan Hunt will be coming by? I’ve hired him to look into Mr Tull’s missing computer. This is important, Henry, because it has files on it that belong to Mount Temple Press. I want to make sure Mr Hunt gets all of the assistance he needs. Tell Mrs Cameron to allow him full access to the house and answer any of his questions.”
“Okay. No problem,” Henry replied.
“Did you get all that?”
“Yup. I’ve got it,” Henry answered, trying not to sound annoyed.
There was a pause on the phone, then Mr Yamada said, “Maybe you should wake Mrs Cameron up so I can talk to her.”
Henry sighed. “There’s a detective named Declan Hunt coming to the house to find Mr Tull’s computer and we are to help him with anything he needs. I can remember that, Mr Yamada. And I’m sure Gramma Carol will call you if she has any questions. Now, if there’s nothing else, I have the mathematical probability of independent events to get back to.”
After Mr Yamada hung up, Henry tried to return to his homework, but he couldn’t focus. He’d never met a real private detective before. He wondered if he was like any of the ones Henry had seen in his comic books. And what would he ask?
Henry stared at the math problems on the table. They became less interesting the more he thought about the detective and what he was coming to look for—Mr Tull’s computer. Where could it be? Somewhere in the house? Maybe Henry could find it first. He knew Hoodoo House better than anyone. And Gramma Carol would be asleep for at least another half an hour. Maybe he should do a little sleuthing. If he found the computer before the detective got here, maybe Mr Yamada would give him a reward.
Henry decided to start in the writing room. The door had been kept closed since the police had removed the body of Mr Tull, and Gramma Carol had scoured the place with a strong cleaning solution in order to remove any trace of what had happened. Henry entered and quietly closed the door behind him.
He looked around the room. It appeared to be exactly as it had been before Mr Tull’s death. Henry made his way to the desk and checked the desk drawers. They were locked, but he knew that Mr Tull had kept the key tucked inside a book calledThe Keys of the Kingdom. Henry knew a lot of things about Mr Tull.
He retrieved the key and opened the desk drawers but nothing was out of place. Henry was certain since he knew where everything was supposed to be.
Mr Tull’s bedroom was next to be searched, even though Henry knew the police had been through it. He looked everywhere, including under the dresser drawers, behind the framed prints on the walls, even under the mattress and the bed itself, tugging away at the fabric that sealed the bottom of the box spring just in case Mr Tull had slid something in there, like Henry had done in his own room with his memory box—but he found nothing.
That left only one more place to look—the basement…and the tunnel.
Henry crept down the stairs to the main floor. Over the years he had mapped out in his mind which stairs to avoid if he didn’t want the squeak of a loose tread to cut through the house. Once he’d reached the main floor in safety, he crept down the hall and opened the cellar door, then turned on the light and descended into the basement.
