“Tell me,” I demanded. “What did they say?”
“Mr. Crowell’s housekeeper found him this morning,” Cassie reported. “The police said he died of a heart attack.”
I leaned back against my pillows and gasped with relief. “Huh? He had a bad heart!” I cried. “This means we’re safe. They don’t think someone killed him.”
“Wrong. They do,” Cassie replied.
A wave of dread quickly washed over me again.
“Lenny was such a jerk for spray-painting the walls,” Cassie continued. “The police think an intruder broke in and scared Mr. Crowell to death.”
I gasped.
“We’re all in so much trouble!” Cassie wailed. “And all because of Lenny.”
“Do you think it’s true?” I asked.
“What?”
“That we scared Mr. Crowell and made him have a heart attack?”
She didn’t reply.
“Cassie?”
“I don’t know, Diane. I really don’t.”
Neither of us spoke.
“They’re having an assembly today to honor Mr. Crowell,” Cassie told me.
The idea of listening to speeches about Mr. Crowell all afternoon made my stomach queasy. I took a deep breath, hoping the nausea would go away. It didn’t.
“Cassie,” I murmured. “I won’t be in school today.”
I hung up and rushed for the bathroom.
“Diane—you look awful!” Mom cried when I finally made my way downstairs. “Do you have the flu?”
I wish! I told myself.
The flu would be gone in a couple of days. But my real troubles will hang around a lot longer.
Mom made me go to bed. I buried myself under the covers. As if the blankets would shield me from the awful truth.
None of my friends phoned me all day or evening. I think each one of us was in shock. Besides, there was nothing to talk about. Mr. Crowell was dead, and we might be responsible.
Still, it made me nervous that nobody called.
My parents went out as soon as Dad came home from work. They had tickets to a play downtown. Mom felt bad leaving me, but I was happy. I needed to be alone.
I sat on the couch in the den, wrapped in a blanket. Dad rented a videotape for me. Anything to take my mind off Mr. Crowell!
The opening credits had just flashed by when someone knocked on the door.
I jumped at the sound. I won’t answer, I decided.
But the knocking continued. Somebody pounded on the front door as if he or she wanted to break it down.
I clutched the blanket around me with icy fingers and slowly walked to the door.
As I reached it, the pounding stopped. I ran into the living room and peered out a window that faced the porch.
No one on the front porch.
I ran back to the door and opened it a crack. I looked around carefully. Just to make sure.
Not a soul in sight.
Frowning, I stepped outside. No one in the front yard.
I looked out at the street. I didn’t see any parked cars, either.
I pulled the blanket up around me and turned back to the door.
Then I saw it.
A rolled-up sheet of paper propped against the porch railing.
With trembling fingers, I picked up the paper and carried it inside. I slammed the door shut and flipped all the locks.
I slowly unrolled the paper. The sheet was long. Like a banner. As I carefully spread it out, my pulse sped up to double time.
Words spray-painted in red letters.
Terrifying words.