Chapter Twelve

 

Philip and Emery found the prospect of having a secret, no-longer-haunted, clubhouse complete with a mysterious man in it too exciting for them to tell anyone and spoil it. Right after school the next two days they dropped their books at one of their houses and made their slow and secret way to what they still called the haunted house. They took Walter some food they snuck out of their own kitchens and sat and talked or mostly listened to him as he told them the story of his life. On Thursday, Emery complained about some homework the boys had, and Walter told them they should bring their tough homework with them next time. He’d be happy to help them out with it. But since they rarely got homework on Fridays, their next homework wouldn’t be till Monday, four days away.

That night Philip’s father walked in the door after work and called Philip’s name. Philip rolled off his bed—he’d gotten home from the haunted house moments earlier—and went downstairs to meet his father.

“Hi, Dad.”

“How are you, Flipster?”

“Good.”

“I got a phone call today about you.”

Philip felt goose bumps run up his arm. Had someone seen him going into the haunted house? “About what?” he asked trying not to sound nervous.

“The real estate agent called praising what a good job you did fixing up the lawn on the house around the corner. He said he’d be happy if you could go around to every house he’s trying to sell and fix it up. He’s finally getting some calls about it.”

About it? The haunted house? “You mean someone’s going to buy the house?” Philip asked, again trying to maintain a normal tone of voice, even though he got more nervous with each passing sentence his father spoke.

“Well, not yet, but he’ll be taking some people to see the house tomorrow morning.”

“Tomorrow morning?”

Philip’s father gave him a funny look. “Yes, tomorrow morning. Why?”

“Oh, no reason. I guess I’m used to the house being empty is all.”

Philip’s mother walked into the living room, and Philip’s father greeted her. “Hi, honey. What’s for dinner?”

Philip tuned out the rest of the conversation and took himself back up to his bedroom. People were visiting the haunted house tomorrow morning. He had to warn Walter. If they caught Walter in the house, who knows what would happen to him? He said he could be arrested and put into jail. Even if he didn’t get arrested, he’d get chased out and have no place to live, and it was getting colder every day.

Philip looked out the window into the dark evening. He’d never be allowed out of the house this late, but he had to find some way to warn Walter nonetheless.

“Dinner, Philip,” he heard his mother call.

Dinner. Six o’clock already, and he had to go to bed at nine-thirty. He didn’t have much time. Maybe Emery... no, Emery wouldn’t be able to help. He’d heard Emery tell Walter he was going over his aunt’s house tonight. Philip knew he’d never be home in time and couldn’t get out of the house even if he got home in time. He couldn’t even phone Emery to talk things over. The best he could do was to go and get Emery extra early next morning before school.

“Philip, while it’s hot. Let’s go,” came his father’s voice.

Philip rolled off the bed and started downstairs to dinner. This was a tough problem to find an answer to, but he’d always managed to come up with something before whenever he got into trouble. He sure hoped he could come up with something this time.

 

Early next morning Philip put his finger to his lips as he led the way into the haunted house. “Shhh, follow me,” he said.

He led the way through the kitchen to the basement door. He opened it.

“Walter? Walter, are you there?”

A voice came from the dark basement. “Yes, I’m here. Philip?”

Philip hit the light switch and waved his hand to go forward. Down the steps he went and turned to where he knew Walter would be lying. Walter was on his knees climbing out from under the staircase. He stood up and his eyes opened wide when he saw the two people standing before him.

“Walter,” said Philip, swallowing hard, “I’d like you to meet my Dad.”