27

Buried with Treasure

Madame Destine stopped by a door at the end of the hallway and brushed away the cobwebs from the knob. She turned the handle, and the entrance creaked open.

Maria took in the strange scent. It smelled like old paper.

Madame Destine rubbed her hand against the wall inside until she found a switch.

The lights flickered on to reveal a wooden stairwell.

“Go first!” whispered Madame Destine. “We’ll let your father protect you!”

Maria squeezed past Madame Destine and descended the crooked wooden steps. The lights only reached the first three stairs.

Then there was darkness.

One by one, Maria descended the stairs. Each step moaned as she made her way down. “Edward?” Maria whispered. “Are you here?” This must have been the secret room where people drank alcohol and hid from the law! It must be the same room used to hide the treasure.

She wished she had a candle or a flashlight. No wonder her stepmother wanted her to go first.

Maria wondered, if something happened to her, would Madame Destine leave her there? She held on to the wall for balance while she descended, until her foot reached the tile of the floor.

Maria’s eyes adjusted to the darkness. The distant lights above gave only hints to the contours of objects within the room.

There were large rectangular slabs set in circular rows that resembled the pictures of Stonehenge she’d seen in books. Maybe this was an ancient place of worship, Maria thought.

She felt Edward’s presence against the back of her neck. “Edward?” she called. “What is this place?” But she knew he wouldn’t answer back.

Maria swung her hands around until she felt a string hanging. She gave it a hard yank.

The lights buzzed momentarily before they lit across the room.

Maria smiled.

The monoliths were not pillars of stone. They were shelves. Row after row of shelves, holding hundreds of books.

Madame Destine’s footsteps crashed down the steps behind her. Once her stepmother had a chance to glance about the room, she grew impatient. “This is the treasure?” she cried. “Books?” Where’s the gold?”

“GOLD! GOLD!” echoed Houdini, perched on Destine’s shoulder.

So, the treasure is a library, Maria thought. She took in the room. Strange abstract paintings hung along the walls next to boxes of what appeared to be more books. Maria tilted her head to read the titles on the spines. A lot of them seemed to be the same volume.

She picked one up. It was just a book of poems. On every other page were prints and small works of art.

Madame Destine swung her arms, knocking books from the shelves. “I don’t believe it!” She spun around and called, “John! John!” Then she stomped up the stairs, leaving Maria alone to explore.

The room was wonderful!

The paintings were dabs of thick paint applied in abstract fields of color on the canvases—like the ones she’d seen at the Museum of Modern Art. And the books! She strummed her fingers against the volumes lining the shelves.

Then Maria saw something—a book pressed farther off the shelf than the others. She dashed across the tiles and stopped in front of it. She reached out and pulled it from the row. It was thin, with a dusty green cover. The front read “Ghosts and Other Poems by Edward De la Cruz.” Eddy De la Cruz was her father. Could this be his book?

Maria felt her throat close up. She fell to her knees, opened the cover, and buried her nose in the pages. They were poems—much like the ones he had written her all these years. Yes—it was her father’s book! A sealed envelope fell out from the pages. Maria wiped her eyes.

The stairs grumbled as Madame Destine led Mrs. Fisher, Sebastian, and Mr. Fox down into the library.

“I’m allergic to dust mites,” Sebastian protested between sneezes.

“Shut your trap!” snapped Mr. Fox. He pushed Sebastian forward so he bumped into Mrs. Fisher and Mrs. Fisher bumped into Madame Destine. The two hopped down the steps until they reached the floor.

Then Mrs. Fisher bubbled with delight. “The treasure is books! Oh, Robert!” She waddled up to the shelves, pressing her face to the spines. “These are my husband’s books, the ones he published!” Mrs. Fisher chuckled, then looked around her. “And the paintings!” she added. “Robert told me he sold them! I guess he couldn’t bring himself to do it!”

So this is what it’s all about, Maria thought. Edward had wanted to connect them to Mr. Fisher’s books.

But something didn’t add up.

“Why did Mr. Fisher want you to find this library now?” Maria asked Mrs. Fisher.

The wrinkles in Mrs. Fisher’s forehead lifted. “These writers were my friends! Robert published them up until he quit, a year before his death!” A smile stretched across Mrs. Fisher’s face. “I’m surrounded by the spirits of everyone I loved!”

It suddenly occurred to Maria that some of these were the missing works the librarian from the Berg Collection had hinted at—the Beat poets. But how much could they be worth?

“Maria,” began Sebastian, “it’s the—”

Maria gave Sebastian a quick nod and motioned with her finger to zip his lips.

“What’s that?” said Madame Destine.

Sebastian looked down.

Mr. Fox dropped a stack of books, and they hit the floor with a loud bang. “What a load of bunk!” he snarled. “Where’s the loot?”

Madame Destine paced back and forth, shaking her head. “There ain’t any loot, you fool!” She pointed to Sebastian and Mrs. Fisher. “We got witnesses, John! How should we handle them?”

Mr. Fox’s Adam’s apple moved up and down as he swallowed. After a long pause, he said, “We’ll leave them here and lock the door. Then we boogie out of town.”

“You can’t lock us down here!” said Sebastian. He lunged for Mr. Fox but stumbled over a box. “People will be looking for us!” he said, out of breath.

“Precisely,” said Madame Destine, stepping over him. “We’ll leave the two of you here to rot with these books!” Madame Destine pushed up her turban. “And if you get bored, you can always read!”

Madame Destine rubbed her parrot’s beak. Then she said, “See you in another life!” and took a bow. She grabbed Maria’s arm and motioned for Mr. Fox to follow.

Maria pulled away. “I’m not going!” she exclaimed.

“What?” said Madame Destine. “Of course you are! I’ve got big plans for you, Maria!”

“What do you mean?” Maria said, glancing at her friends by the books.

“I’m going to make you famous. People will come from miles around to hear you talk to the dead. You’ll predict the future, and I’ll be your manager.”

Maria frowned. “I won’t do it.”

“You’ll do as I say.”

Maria shook her head. “No, I won’t.”

Mr. Fox placed two calloused hands on Maria’s shoulders. “Don’t talk back to your mother,” he snarled.

“I said no! And she’s not my mother!”

“But think of all the people you can help.” Madame Destine began with a plea. “You’ve always cared about doing the right thing. This is right! Don’t you see?”

Maria paused to consider life in the limelight. Did people coming from miles around need to be told what the future would hold for them? Did they need to dig up the past to talk to the dead? Or was it better to live in the present? She didn’t want to be responsible for the outcomes of people’s futures. She wanted her friends. She wanted a family. And Madame Destine didn’t know a thing about either.

“Leave me here,” Maria said. “I don’t belong with you.”

Mr. Fox and Madame Destine gave each other a knowing look and locked arms around Maria. Then they dragged her up the stairs kicking and screaming. Maria put up a fight, but she wasn’t strong enough to tear away.

“Let me stay!” cried Maria. “Leave me here! Let me stay!”

Madame Destine ignored her, stopping at the top of the stairs and looking below. “Good night!” she said, and slammed the door, muffling the cries of Mrs. Fisher and Sebastian.

Mr. Fox and Madame Destine pulled Maria through the secret passage, over the broken glass, and into Mrs. Fisher’s living room. Then Mr. Fox pushed the piano in front of the hole in the wall, wiping the sweat from his brow when he was done.

Maria lowered her head and gave up her struggle. She couldn’t overcome both her stepmother and Mr. Fox.