The Wrong Number Read online

  His gun flashed once, then twice more. Mr. Farberson stood stock-still, then jerked backward and fell, the chain saw still roaring in his hands. Quickly the detective ran to Farberson and shut the machine off.

  The relief from the noise and vibration was startling—and in the sudden silence Deena wondered for a moment if she had gone deaf.

  “You girls okay?” Detective Monroe was under the tree, peering up at them. Behind him Detective Frazier and a uniformed policeman were bent over Mr. Farberson.

  “Try not to move,” Monroe said. “I’ll get a ladder.”

  Deena was so relieved she felt weak all over. She looked at Jade and could see she felt the same way. Both girls were crying tears of relief, and it was only when the tree swayed again that Deena realized they were still in trouble.

  The yard was now filled with the voices of shouting men, the sounds of motors running and radios squawking. Through the dense leaves Deena could see someone speaking into a walkie-talkie, and beyond him—could it be?—her father and Chuck!

  Detective Monroe had arrived with a tall stepladder, and he climbed it while a uniformed policeman held it steady. He reached out for Deena first. Gratefully she put her arms around his neck and relaxed as he carried her down the ladder. A minute later he returned with Jade. Just as he was setting her on the ground someone shouted, “Look out!”

  Slowly at first, then more quickly, the tree toppled to the ground, its long branches smashing into the ground-floor windows in the back of Mr. Farberson’s house.

  Deena looked at it for a moment, her heart thudding in her chest, and then she passed out.

  chapter

  26

  When Deena woke up a few minutes later she was lying on someone’s coat on Mr. Farberson’s porch. Next to her Jade was sitting cross-legged, holding a cloth to her forehead. And next to her Chuck was hunkered down, gazing at Jade with a tender smile.

  Deena struggled to a sitting position, then looked around, not believing her eyes. Detectives Frazier and Monroe, three uniformed cops, and her father were all gathered around the porch, staring at her and Jade.

  “How are you, sweetheart?” asked her father. He leaned down and gave her a quick hug.

  “Daddy!” she said. “And Chuck! What happened?”

  Chuck grinned his goofy grin at her. “It’s kind of a long story,” he said.

  “Where’s Mr. Farberson?” Deena asked them.

  “Over there,” said Frazier, pointing to the side yard. “He’s wounded, but he’ll probably recover—to stand trial.” He leaned back on the porch railing and crossed his arms. “It looks as if you girls have quite a story to tell,” he said. “While we’re waiting for an ambulance, why don’t you tell us what you’re doing here?”

  “We were trying to find out what we could about Mr. Farberson,” Deena said.

  “And what did you find out?” Frazier’s face was blank, and Deena had no idea what he was thinking.

  “He killed his wife,” said Jade. “He did it for her money.”

  “You’re sure of this?” said Frazier. Beside him Detective Monroe had started to take notes.

  “Look in Mr. Farberson’s pocket!” said Deena. “He has a letter from his wife saying she was leaving him. And he has plane reservations to South America.”

  “Besides,” said Jade, “he told us he did it.” Deena noticed that Jade’s voice was no longer dull, but strong, and that her face had some of the old sparkle in it.

  “You say Farberson told you he killed his wife,” said Frazier. “Did he happen to mention why?” His voice sounded faintly sarcastic, and Deena suddenly felt angry.

  “His wife had a lot of money,” Deena said, her voice showing how she felt. “She wasn’t going to let him have any more of it. Besides, he was having an affair with his assistant, Linda Morrison.”

  “Just how did you girls come by all this information?” Frazier asked, turning back to the porch.

  “We looked for it!” said Jade, sounding bitter. “We went to where Mr. Farberson worked, and to Miss Morrison’s house, and then we came here!”

  “You took an awful chance!” said Frazier. “Don’t you think that was a job for the police?”

  “Of course it was!” said Deena. “But you wouldn’t listen to anything we said. We knew Chuck was innocent, and we knew his only hope was for us to find out the truth.”

  To Deena’s surprise, Frazier smiled. “I guess I should tell you, Farberson has been our number-one suspect for some time,” he said. “We’ve just been waiting till we could get proof.”

  “You’ve been w-waiting—” Deena stammered. “But what about Chuck? All this time you’ve had him locked up!”

  “Take it easy, Deena,” said Chuck. “It’s okay.”

  “How can it be okay?” protested Deena. “If the police knew all along that you were innocent, how could they have—”

  “We didn’t know for sure,” Detective Frazier interrupted. “You see, Farberson was clever to involve you kids. Finding Chuck’s prints on the knife threw us off at first. But then we started watching Farberson. We didn’t have any evidence, and we didn’t want him to know he was a suspect.”

  “You kept my brother in jail for a week just to help your investigation?” Deena was so angry she felt like throwing something.

  “Hey, Deena, take it easy,” said Chuck. “Let Detective Monroe explain.”

  “No, I’ll explain,” said Mr. Martinson. Deena studied her father, wondering if everyone had gone crazy. “My lawyer arranged to get Chuck out on bail on Wednesday,” Deena’s father said. “But Detective Frazier explained the situation to me. He told me there was a better chance of arresting Farberson if he continued to think Chuck was the main suspect.”

  “And you agreed?” Deena remembered how Chuck had looked when she visited him in jail. How desperate, and how frightened. Now, suddenly, she was furious at her father. As furious as she was at the detectives.

  Mr. Martinson looked embarrassed and shrugged. “It was only for a couple of days,” he said. “Chuck would have gotten out tomorrow anyway. I wanted to help the police. And—I thought it might teach Chuck a lesson.”

  “It’s okay, Dad,” Chuck said. “I think I understand.” He had one hand on the back of Jade’s neck, and Deena thought he was a different person from the boy who had come to Shadyside less than three weeks earlier. His face looked older, more serious. All traces of the bitter sneer had disappeared.

  An ambulance sped down Fear Street then and turned into the driveway. Detectives Frazier and Monroe went over to assist the paramedics. Deena and Jade watched as they loaded Mr. Farberson onto a stretcher and then put him in the ambulance.

  “I can’t believe it’s over” said Deena.

  “Believe it,” said Chuck. “Thanks to everything you and Jade did, the police know the truth. They know I’m innocent—and they have the evidence against Farberson to put him in jail for life.”

  The ambulance backed out of the driveway and sped back to the Mill Road, its red lights blinking. The police experts all seemed to have finished their work and were starting to pack up.

  “Do you need us for anything else?” Mr. Martinson asked Detective Frazier.

  “No, go on home,” said the detective. “But I’ll want to talk to the girls again tomorrow.”

  “Fine. Ready, girls?”

  Deena pulled herself to her feet. “You bet,” she said, and then she stopped and turned back to Detective Frazier. “There’s just one thing I don’t understand,” she said.

  “What’s that?” said Detective Frazier.

  “Nobody knew where we were. How did you get here in time to save us?”

  “You’ve got Chuck to thank for that,” said Detective Frazier. “He tried to call your parents and tell them what you girls were planning, but he couldn’t get through. So he finally called me at home—and said he wanted to confess.”

  “You what?” said Jade and Deena together, staring at Chuck.

  Chuck jus
t grinned his goofy grin. “I had to see him as soon as possible,” he said. “It was the only way I could be sure he’d listen to me.”

  Deena and Jade stared at each other, then back at Chuck. Jade started laughing. “I don’t believe you did that, Chuck!” she said, gasping. “After everything you promised, after everything we’ve all been through . . .”

  “What are you talking about?” said Chuck, looking puzzled.

  “I just mean,” said Jade, still laughing, “that you—you made another prank phone call!”

  chapter

  27

  Monday in school, no one could talk about anything but what had happened. There had been only a brief article in the paper about Mr. Farberson’s arrest, but somehow word got out that Deena, Chuck, and Jade had all been involved. By lunchtime the gossip had turned them all into heroes.

  When Deena went to her locker before lunch she found a traffic jam. It seemed that everyone in school wanted the juicy details.

  “Congratulations, Deena!” said Delia O’Connor.

  “Did you really help the police solve a murder?” Cory Brooks wanted to know.

  “Okay, everyone, take a number!” Deena cracked. At that moment Lisa Blume came up, her notebook ready. “Good morning, Deena,” she said. “You must feel great!”

  “I’m just glad it’s all over,” Deena said truthfully.

  “I’m ready to write that exclusive,” Lisa said.

  “Can we talk after school?” Deena said. “I’m starving.”

  “Well, can you just tell me if it’s true that your brother made a fake confession?” Lisa persisted.

  “Here he comes how,” said Deena, banging her locker shut. “Why don’t you ask him yourself?”

  Now Chuck came around the corner, holding hands with Jade. Jade was wearing one of her fabulous multicolored outfits, and she looked gorgeous. She was smiling at Chuck as if she’d never let him out of her sight.

  Lisa pounced immediately, and Deena was surprised to see Chuck grin and start answering her questions.

  Deena started to walk over to Jade when she saw Rob Morell walking toward her.

  “Hey, how’s it goin’?” he said with a big smile.

  “Hi, Rob,” she said, too surprised to feel shy.

  “I tried to call you this weekend,” he said. “Now I know why you didn’t answer.”

  She just smiled at him, not knowing what to say.

  “The thing is,” Rob went on, “some of the gang are coming over to my house to watch some tapes. I’d like it if you’d come, too.”

  “I’d—I’d like to very much,” Deena said, her heart pounding.

  “Great,” said Rob. “I’ll pick you up around seven. And you, too,” he added to Chuck and Jade. “Come on over.”

  “Thanks,” said Jade, “I might have too much homework tonight. I’ll let you know later. Deena, I’ll give you a call after school.”

  “Okay,” said Deena. She started to turn down the hall, then stopped. “On second thought,” she told Jade, “I think I’ve had it with telephones for a while. Maybe you should just send me a postcard!”

  About the Author

  “Where do you get your ideas?”

  That’s the question that R.L. Stine is asked most often. “I don’t know where my ideas come from,” he says. “But I do know that I have a lot more scary stories in my mind that I can’t wait to write.”

  So far, he has written over a hundred mysteries and thrillers for young people, all of them best-sellers.

  Bob grew up in Columbus, Ohio. Today he lives in an apartment near Central Park in New York City with his wife, Jane.

  THE NIGHTMARES

  NEVER END . . .

  WHEN YOU VISIT

  Next: TRUTH OR DARE

  It should have been fun. Seven teens on a ski weekend up in the mountains. But then a blizzard hit, ruining their plans. Now they’re snow-bound, with nothing to do.

  So someone suggests they play Truth or Dare. An innocent game, they think. Who will tell the truth? Who will take a dare? And how far will they go?

  But the game goes too far. One of them, it seems, would rather kill than tell the truth.

  Don’t miss these chilling tales from

  FEAR STREET®

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  After hours, the horror continues at

  Fear Street® Nights

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  This book is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real locales are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  First Simon Pulse edition August 2002

  Text copyright © 1990 by Parachute Press, Inc.

  Originally published as an Archway Paperback in March 1990

  SIMON PULSE

  An imprint of Simon & Schuster

  Children’s Publishing Division

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  New York, NY 10020

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  All rights reserved, including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form.

  ISBN 0-671-69411-1

  ISBN 13: 978-1-4424-8620-1 (eBook)

  FEAR STREET is a registered trademark of Parachute Press, Inc.