Dew drop dead, p.1
Dew Drop Dead, page 1
About the earlier Sebastian Barth mysteries
WHAT ERIC KNEW
“Readers will enjoy sifting through the clues and digging deeper into the multilayered story. Howe’s characterizations are strong.” —Booklist
“Chock-full of suspense. Readers will find this a book they will not want to put down until it’s finished. An excellent book for the beginning of a new and exciting series.” —The Parkersburg New
STAGE FRIGHT
“Truly delightful and entertaining. [Howe] keeps the reader guessing until the final clue has been discovered and the mystery is solved. Hats off to James Howe—keep the words flowing.” —Best sellers
“A well-plotted mystery that features attractive characters, including the resourceful Sebastian . . . uses its theatrical setting to best advantage.” —Booklist
EAT YOUR POISION, DEAR
“Howe weaves a good tale with plenty of red herrings and an ending that comes as a complete surprise. A chilling dust jacket will draw readers in and the clever plotting will keep them turning the pages.” —Booklist
“As original and well-constructed as Howe’s Stage Fright and What Eric Knew. Readers will be dazzled by the triple shock in the windup.” —Publishers Weekly
Right now and probably always, I’m hooked on Sebastian. He’s great! It’s so realistic I’d swear it’s true . I’m an avid mystery reader and Sebastian is about the only really realistic sleuth. I love the combination of comedy and drama.” —Letter from a twelve-year-old reader
Snooping around the mysteriously abandoned Dew Drop Inn, Sebastian Barth and his best friends, David Lepinsky and Corrie Wingate, are startled to come upon what they are certain is a dead body. Sebastian is the first to put into words what they all believe: A muder has been committed.
When they return with the police, however, the body is gone! “A homeless man sleeping off a drunk.” is the police chief’s explanation. But Sebastian and his friends are not ready to believe that. They are sure the body they saw was dead, not unconscious.
As the three undertake their own further investigation, more and more questions arise: Who was the man? Was he alone? And most important of all, is there a connection between the man they saw and one or more of the homeless people Corrie’s father, a minister, is trying to help? The answers to the questions do not come until the three have made a number of discoveries, some of them more horrifying than they had expected.
Dew Drop Dead is the fourth mystery in the Sebastian Barth series. Using rural Connecticut as a background, this tension-filled story is told with a unique blend of humor and seriousness, as it unravels a challenging puzzle and explores a difficult social problem.
JAMES HOWE is the author of numerous books for children, including the popular series about Bunnicula, the vampire rabbit, and his friends, Harold, Chester, and Howie. Among his other books are Morgan’s Zoo, A night Without Stars, and three other Sebastian Barth mysteries: What Eric Knew; Stage Fright; and Eat Your Poison, Dear.
The author lives in Hastings-on-Hudson, New York.
Jacket illustration copyright © 1995
by Richard Parisi
VISIT IN THE WORLD WIDE WEB
www.SimonSaysKids.com
ATHENEUM BOOKS FOR YOUNG READERS
SIMON & SCHUSTER
NEW YORK
DEW DROP DEAD
Other Atheneum Books by James Howe
Bunnicula: A Rabbit-Tale of Mystery (with Deborah Howe)
Howliday Inn
The Celery Stalks at Midnight
Nighty-Nightmare
A Night Without Stars
Morgan’s Zoo
Teddy Bear’s Scrapbook (with Deborah Howe)
There’s a Monster Under My Bed
Pinky and Rex
Pinky and Rex Get Married
Sebastian Earth Mysteries
What Eric Knew
Stage Fright
Eat Your Poison, Dear
Atheneum Books for Young Readers
An imprint of Simon & Schuster Children’s
Publishing Division
1230 Avenue of the Americas
New York, New York 10020
www.SimonandSchuster.com
Copyright © 1990 by James Howe
All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in
whole or in part in any form.
Printed in the United States of America
12 14 16 18 20 19 17 15 13 11
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Howe, James.
Dew drop dead: a Sebastian Earth mystery/by James Howe.
—I st ed. p. cm.
“A Jean Karl book.”
Summary: While setting up a homeless shelter at the church,
Sebastian and his friends Corrie and David solve the mystery of a
dead man found in an abandoned inn.
ISBN 0–689–31423–6
[1. Mystery and detective stories. 2. Homeless persons—Fiction.]
1. Title
PZ7.H83727De 1990 [Fic]—dc20
89–34697 CIP AC
ISBN-13: 978-1-44245-239-8 (eBook)
To Betsy—for her love, her encouragement, and her paper clips
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
1
SEBASTIAN BARTH sat listening to his parents argue. His hand rested on a piece of paper, blank but for the words Dear Koji. He’d hoped that writing a letter to his pen pal in Japan would distract him from the fighting; unfortunately, it seemed to be working the other way around. Each time he thought of something to write, angry words flew up through the floorboards of his room and buzzed his brain like a swarm of attacking bees.
“I don’t want to move any more than you do,” he heard his father say.
“What makes you think your work is all that matters?”
“I’m not saying that.”
“Well, what are you saying?”
“Come on, Katie—”
“Don’t take that patient tone with me, William Barth. It’s condescending and you know it.”
“For crying out loud—”
Dear Koji, How’s everything with you? I’m having a pretty good year in school. Mom and Dad are fine. Gram is busy with all her projects, as usual There’s not much happening here.
Lies, Sebastian thought. Why don’t you just write the truth? Dear Koji, Guess what? I lost my radio show and it looks like Dad’s about to lose his job. We might even have to move because there aren’t many radio stations around here where he can find work. Mom’s having a fit because she doesn’t want to leave her restaurant. Even Gram is depressed.
How’s the weather there? It’s been really cold here. We’ve had snow and it isn’t even Thanksgiving yet. I think we’re in for a rough winter—
“You’re not listening to me, Will!”
“I’m listening, I’m listening. I’m just not hearing anything!”
Well, at least that part’s true, Sebastian thought. We’re definitely in for a rough winter.
A door slammed. A second door slammed. All he heard now was the murmuring of his grandmother’s reasonable tones. He wasn’t sure who was left for her to be talking to; he imagined it was one of the cats.
He looked out his window at the house across the street. There was a car in the driveway. Good, he thought, they’re back. Sebastian shoved his feet into his sneakers and charged down the stairs. Before his grandmother could ask where he was going, he grabbed a jacket and was out the door.
It was three-thirty. There was still time to salvage what had thus far been a thoroughly rotten Saturday.
2
“DAVID’S IN the bathroom and my father’s having a crisis and I’m helping,” said Rachel Lepinsky as she opened the door. Rachel was the nine-year-old sister of Sebastian’s best friend. She turned away, then said, “Wait. As long as you’re here, what do you think of this title?” Consulting a notebook, she read, “The Case of the Mysterious Thing.”
“Catchy,” said Sebastian. “What’s it about?”
“I don’t know. I’m just coming up with titles. It’s my dad’s job to write the stupid books.”
“Oh. Well, that sounds like a perfect title for a stupid book.”
Rachel glared at Sebastian and left the room. A moment later, he heard her voice coming from down the hall near her father’s office. She was reading him her title. Then he heard Josh.
“Please, Rachel, I appreciate your desire to help. But all I want right now is to be left alone. Close the door on your way out.”
By the time Rachel came back into the living room, she was no long er carrying her notebook. “I have decided that writing is a pointless profession,” she said. “It makes you cranky and not fun to be with. Besides, all you do all day is sit in a room by yourself and make up stories. It’s not very down-to-earth, if you ask me. Whatever I do when I grow up, it will be down-to-earth, that’s for sure.”
“Hey, Rachel, I’ve got the perfect profession for you,” David Lepinsky shouted as he came down the stairs. “It’s down-to-earth, and you never have to be by yourself.”
“What?”
“Mud wrestling.”
“Very umfunny,” Rachel said. She fell back into a chair and crossed her arms.
“Let’s go somewhere,” David said to Sebastian. “It’s bad news around here today.” To Rachel, he said, “Tell Dad I went out.”
“Sure,” Rachel said. “I’ll tell him you ran away to join the circus.”
“Do that.”
“Boy,” said Sebastian once they were outside, “I thought things were grim around my house. What’s going on?”
“It’s my dad,” David said. “He’s got writer’s block. We went to the mall for clothes and all he could talk about were story ideas. See, he’s owed his editor a book for almost a year now and he’s stuck. Last night, he had this dream that the publishing company came and took away his word processor.”
“Wow.”
“And today while Rachel was trying on shoes, he got this idea for a mystery where the murderer is a shoe salesman who kills people by cutting off their circulation at the ankles. The worst part was that he was serious. That’s when we came home.”
“I’ve never seen him like this.”
“Yeah, it’s pretty bad. What’s happening at your house? Does it still look like your father’s going to get fired?”
The boys were leaning against the railing on David’s front porch. Sebastian said, “It doesn’t look good.”
They fell silent, as they always did at this point in this particular conversation. They had been friends for as far back as they could remember and they did not want to consider the possibility that Sebastian might have to move away.
“It’s too cold to hang around,” Sebastian said. “Let’s go for a ride. I’ll get my bike and meet you.”
“Where to?”
“Anywhere. Who knows? Maybe we’ll find a circus to join.”
3
CORRIE WINGATE waved to them from the front lawn of her house down the street. “Where are you going?” she called out.
Sebastian and David brought their bikes to a halt by the curb.
“To find a circus,” David said. He knew she was going to end up joining them, but he couldn’t quite bring himself to invite her. Corrie had moved into the neighborhood the summer before, and it had taken David some time to warm up to her. By now he was used to the idea that she was Sebastian’s girlfriend. He didn’t like it, but he was used to it.
And Corrie was used to the fact that David rarely gave a straight answer. “Can I come, too?” she said.
“Sure,” said Sebastian.
Corrie ran to get her bicycle, which was propped against a tree. “I’ve got to get away from my house for a while,” she told them. “My father is driving me nuts.”
“Welcome to the club,” Sebastian said.
“Your father?” David was incredulous. Corrie’s father was a minister. He didn’t think ministers were allowed to drive you nuts.
“Please,” said Corrie. “All he can talk about is how his ‘flock’ is letting him down. He’s been trying to start this food-and-shelter program at the church, and now that he’s gotten an official go-ahead, he can’t get enough volunteers. He says people are too selfish these days, that they don’t think of others. Me, he’s telling. Me, who spent two hours this morning delivering meals to shut-ins. I mean, if he wants to talk about my brother Drew, maybe. My sister, Alice, for sure. But me? It’s gotten to the point where every time he starts in about his flock, I just go, ‘Baa-aa-aa.’”
Sebastian laughed.
“You know what he said?” Corrie went on. “He said he wished he was back in Troy. Can you believe it? He’d rather be in Troy, New York, than Pembroke, Connecticut. He said the problems there were more real, whatever that means.”
“Pembroke has real problems,” Sebastian said.
“I know that. And so does he. I think he just likes to hear himself complain.”
“Grown-ups,” said David. “I’m glad I’m not one.”
“You will be soon enough,” Sebastian reminded him.
“I don’t know,” said David. “Maybe I’ll stay twelve the rest of my life.”
“I thought the same thing when I was your age,” Sebastian said. “And then one day, you know what? I turned thirteen.”
“Aw, you’re such an old man,” said David.
“Yeah? I’ll bet I can still beat you to the traffic light.”
“Bet you can’t.”
“You’re on.”
Sebastian and David sped away without a backward glance. Corrie noticed that she hadn’t been included in their little bet, but she didn’t let it bother her. She watched them pedal furiously down Chestnut Street, Sebastian leading by a hair, then pushed off at her own leisurely pace. After a moment, she picked up her speed.
It was a close race. By the time the boys arrived at the traffic light, they were neck and neck. Fortunately, Corrie was already there to call the winner.
4
HEADING OUT ROUTE 7, they slowed their pace and got to talking about Sebastian’s canceled radio show. For three years, he had been the host of “Small Talk,” a weekly talk show for kids. The opportunity had come his way because his father was the station manager of WEB-FM; it had never occurred to him that he could be fired.
“I knew the ratings were slipping,” he told David and Corrie as they passed the A&P, “but it still came as a shock. I mean, do you know what it’s like to have your own dad give you the boot?”
David, who wrote for Sebastian’s show, had been with him that day. “It was awful,” he told Corrie. “We came in to tape the show, and Uncle Will said, ‘Boys, I have some bad news.’”
“It wasn’t his fault. It was Herself,” said Sebastian, referring to the anonymous and eccentric station owner. “She sent out this memo. She says nobody listens to talk radio anymore. So what does she do? She puts on this music like you hear in elevators. Gee, that’ll get a lot of new listeners. Not that I think she cares much anyway. The rumor is she’s planning to sell the station to some big corporation. What gets me is that I never had the chance to quit. I wish my father would.”
“Quit?” David asked.
“Yeah, just so he won’t have to get fired.”
“Don’t say that, Sebastian,” said Corrie.
“But it feels lousy to get fired. I know. I’m thirteen and a has-been.”
David laughed. “There you go sounding like an old man again.”
“I know, I know. I’ve got my whole life ahead of me and all that. But what about my dad? He’s thirty-seven. What’s he going to do?”
No one answered. They had reached the top of Dead Man’s Hill and were silenced, as always, by the prospect of what lay before them. The steep decline with its hairpin turns was a favorite for daredevil coasting among the kids in town.
“Want to turn around?” Corrie asked.
That was all David needed to hear. “What’s the matter?” he said. “Afraid?”
“No,” Corrie said. “But it’ll be dark soon. We don’t want to get too far from home.”
“It’s not so late. What do you say, Sebastian?”
“I say let’s go for it.”
“All right!”
Sebastian felt the raw November wind sting his cheeks. His eyes were beginning to water. “Let’s take a right at the bottom,” he suggested. “We’ll go as far as the inn and then head back.”
Corrie asked, “What inn?”
“It’s called the Dew Drop Inn,” said Sebastian. “It’s about a half-mile up Sunflower. If you get there before us—” He stopped himself and smiled at Corrie. “I guess I should say, since you’ll get there before us, wait up. I think there’s a sign out front.”
Corrie smiled back. “I can’t help it if I happen to be in great shape,” she said. “Anyway, why wouldn’t there be a sign?”
