“This is ridiculous,” Charlie said.
He and Ty were in the office behind the front desk of the Abracadabra Hotel with Annie Solo, the girl who often worked at the check-in desk.
Ty leaned back in the big chair in the corner. “I don’t know, Hitchcock,” he said. He put his hands behind his head. “Theopolis is pretty amazing. He proved he can do real magic.”
“He did not,” Charlie insisted.
Annie nodded. “He did,” she said, still staring at the TV. The news was showing Joey Bingham’s interview with Theopolis for the fifth time that afternoon. “He nailed the trapdoor shut. It had to be demons.”
“Shifts in space and time,” Ty said.
Charlie rolled his eyes.
“I think it’s real,” Annie said. “I think it wasn’t a trick at all. I think it was real magic. I truly believe that.”
“You’re crazy,” Charlie said.
“I’m with Annie,” Ty said. “Am I crazy too?”
Charlie swallowed. They might have been becoming friends, but Ty was still the scariest kid in eighth grade. He decided to ignore the question.
“Prove us wrong, Charlie,” Annie said.
“That’s my plan,” he said, standing up. “Come on, Ty.”
“Why should I?” Ty asked, leaning back in his chair.
“I don’t know, in the name of truth?” Charlie suggested. “Because uncovering mysteries in this hotel is what we do?”
Ty crossed his arms and stared at Charlie.
“Because I helped you solve two mysteries already, so you owe me?” Charlie said. He grinned sheepishly.
“He’s got you there,” Annie said. “If not for Charlie, you’ll never get that bike you’ve had your eye on.”
Charlie smiled at Annie. The Slamhammer, which Ty was really close to being able to buy, would convince him.
“Fine,” Ty said. “Where do we start?”
“Theopolis’s room,” Charlie said. “Come on. Let’s go.”
* * *
“Why, hello, Master Hitchcock, and Master Yu. Where are you two headed?” Brack asked as Charlie and Ty stepped into his elevator.
“To see Mr. Theopolis,” Charlie said.
“Thirteenth floor,” Brack said. “Yes.”
“It’s so weird that he’s on the thirteenth floor,” Ty said. “No one stays on the thirteenth floor!”
“Why not?” Charlie asked as the elevator started its slow climb.
Brack shrugged. “It’s an old tradition, and lots of old-time magicians are very superstitious,” he said. “They believe the number thirteen is bad luck.”
“It is,” Ty said.
“They say the number itself has bad magic in it,” Brack went on. He pulled out his watch again. “I always thought it had something to do with time.”
He popped open the watch. “The last hour of the day is twelve,” he explained, pointing at the watch face. “Perhaps a thirteenth hour seems unnatural, and so the number seems unnatural.”
The old man turned to face Ty. “Have a close look,” he said. He held out the watch to Ty, and Ty leaned close.
“Yup,” he said. “Just like every other watch. It goes up to tw—”
But he was cut off, because suddenly a fine stream of water squirted from the center of the watch face, soaking Ty’s face.
“Hey!” Ty said, covering his face. “What gives?”
Charlie couldn’t help laughing. “Good trick, Brack,” he said. “But — I looked closely at your watch earlier today. It was definitely not a joke watch. I could tell from the shine that it was real old metal.”
“Indeed,” Brack said.
He reached into the pocket of his coat and produced the real watch. The two were nearly identical. Anyone would have been fooled. “I had this one made special,” Brack said, “just so my two watches — the real antique one and the other fake, practical-joke one — would look almost exactly alike. Only an expert — or you, Mr. Hitchcock — would be able to tell them apart.”
The old man giggled as the door opened on the thirteenth floor. “In fact, I’ve squirted my own face more than once by accident,” he said. “Anyway, here you are.”
“Thanks a lot, Brack,” Ty said, wiping his face.
“Yeah, thanks,” said Charlie, and the boys stepped out.
The hallway was completely dark. “Hey, is this right?” Charlie asked. “The lights are all off!” He turned back to the elevator, but the doors were closed, and the elevator was already heading back down to the lobby.