Judy and the Beast Read online

  “You’d better not bother him. I think Baker is working,” Hilda called after me.

  I didn’t care. I had to see him right away. Someone had destroyed my artwork. Someone in this house wanted to scare me.

  I trotted through the front room into Baker’s private hallway. I saw closed doors all the way down the hall.

  I had only gone a few feet when Harvard stepped in front of me.

  I gasped. “You scared me. Where did you come from?”

  “Sorry,” he said. “I have a bad habit of sneaking up on people.” His pale bald head shone under the ceiling lights. He adjusted his suit jacket. “Where are you going?”

  “I need to speak to Mr. Grendel right away,” I said.

  His face drooped. “I’m so sorry. He can’t be disturbed while he’s working.”

  I gazed down the long hall. I wondered how hard it would be to slip past Harvard and run to where Baker was working.

  “Working?” I said. “You know, I asked you before. What kind of work does Mr. Grendel do?”

  Harvard lowered his gaze. “I’m sorry, miss. But that’s private.”

  I frowned at him. “You’re joking, right? You really can’t tell me what he does?”

  “No one is allowed to know,” the servant replied, avoiding my gaze.

  “WHOOOOOOOAAAAAAAGH!”

  A howl burst from down the hall. A shrill howl of pain that rang off the walls. Followed by another terrifying cry.

  “That’s inside the house!” I cried.

  I didn’t think or hesitate. I shoved Harvard with both hands. He was surprisingly light. He bounced against the wall. I took off running toward the horrible cries.

  “Hey, stop!”

  I ignored the servant’s shout and raced down the hall.

  I stopped when a door swung open a few feet ahead of me. Baker stumbled out into the hall, eyes blazing, hair wild around his red face.

  “I heard cries—” I started. Then I stopped. And stared.

  Were those bloodstains across the front of his white smock?

  How did he get that deep, bleeding scratch across his forehead?

  And then I gasped when I glanced behind him—and saw the object in a wastebasket near his desk.

  A paintbrush.

  Caked with red paint.

  “And then what happened?” Ira asked.

  “I saw the paintbrush behind him in his office,” I replied. “I know I did. But I was too shocked to ask him about it. And he didn’t give me a chance.”

  Ira squinted at me. “What do you mean?”

  “Baker said he cut himself on a cabinet door, and he couldn’t talk to me,” I answered. “Before I could say anything else, he ran off holding his forehead.”

  Ira shook his head. “Weird.”

  It was later that night, and we were playing a game of gin rummy with a deck of cards Ira had brought. We sat on the worn carpet in his room at the side of the dark-quilted bed.

  Outside the window, the sky was solid black. No moonlight or stars to brighten it even to gray. The old windowpanes rattled in the gusts of wind.

  “Baker is more than weird,” I said, staring at my cards. “He’s frightening. And for some reason, he thinks he needs to frighten me.”

  Ira set his cards down on the floor. “Gin.”

  “You win again,” I said, yawning. “One more?”

  He nodded and reached to collect the cards.

  “And you’ve been acting weird, too,” I said. “I can never find you. You keep disappearing, and I know you’re not working with Dad the whole time. Ira … I think you’re keeping something from me.”

  His eyes grew wide. “Don’t start, Judy,” he said. “I’m not hiding anything from you. Seriously.”

  I shrugged. “Guess not. Guess I’m just stressed out.” I startled as a strong wind gust made the windowpanes bang again.

  Ira pressed the deck of cards into my hand. “Your deal.”

  We played in silence for a while. Then I sighed. “Dad says he’s seeing double. And he can’t put any weight on his ankle, even with the crutches the doctor gave him.”

  Ira frowned. “You shouldn’t have come, Judy. I think we’re going to be stuck here a long time. We can’t move Dad. And he’ll want me to finish as much of the work as I can. We really need the money.”

  From downstairs came the thunderous sounds of Aurora barking his head off.

  I lowered my cards to my lap and listened. “Even the dog is creepy,” I said. “He’s as big as a horse!”

  Ira snickered. “A real monster. He’s definitely a good watchdog.”

  “But why does Baker need a watchdog?” I said. “Who is going to climb all the way up the mountain to rob his house?”

  Ira didn’t answer.

  “Seriously,” I said. “Why do you think he needs a watchdog?”

  “I said he was a good watchdog. I didn’t say he needed a watchdog,” Ira replied. “Baker is a big man. He says he just likes to have a big dog.”

  The angry barking suddenly stopped. Ira reached for a card. “Aurora probably just saw a mouse downstairs.”

  “I have to tell you something,” I said. “When I saw Aurora chasing a rabbit outside last night, I … thought he was the Beast.”

  “Judy, I told you—there is no Beast!” he snapped. “Give me a break, okay? Stop talking about it.”

  “Sorry,” I muttered. I took a card from the pile. “I’ll never mention it again. Promise.”

  Ha. If you know me, you know it was a promise I never planned to keep.

  If Ira wouldn’t help me, I’d find out the truth about the Beast on my own.

  “Gin. We both won two games,” I said. I set down my cards.

  Ira climbed to his feet. “I can’t believe back in the day, card games were the only thing people had for fun.”

  “I used to know a card trick,” I said. “Maybe I can remember how to do it.”

  “Big whoop,” Ira muttered.

  “Forget it.” I stood up and handed him the deck of cards. Then I turned to go to my room.

  But I stopped at the doorway and turned back to him. “So … who do you think ruined my painting of that cabin?”

  He shrugged. “Beats me. I told you I don’t have a clue. It just doesn’t make any sense.” Then he quickly added, “I know it wasn’t me.”

  “It shouldn’t be hard to figure out,” I said. “It wasn’t Dad, right? That only leaves Baker and Hilda.”

  “Don’t forget the servant dude,” Ira said. “Harvard. He’s always prowling around the place. My guess would be Harvard.”

  “He’s so creepy and weird,” I said. “I told you … we were in the kitchen this morning, and he cut himself with a knife. And he didn’t bleed. Not a drop.”

  Ira frowned at me. “Stop it, Judy,” he said. “What are you saying? That Harvard is a zombie? You’ve got to stop. Zombies? Beasts? You’re being ridiculous now! Maybe you should stop watching those horror films on Netflix.”

  I gritted my teeth. “I know what I saw.”

  Ira snickered. “Maybe Harvard is just anemic.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Yeah. For sure. Tell me this. Why would Harvard paint the red X over my painting?” I demanded. “That doesn’t make any sense. I just don’t get it.”

  Ira snickered. “I guess maybe he isn’t an art lover.”

  “You’re not funny!” I snapped. “It isn’t a joke, Ira. I think someone really wants to scare me.”

  Ira pulled a pair of pajamas from a dresser drawer. “Maybe Dad has some ideas,” he said. “If he’s better tomorrow, you should definitely tell him about it.”

  I made my way down the hall to my room. The painting with the red X across it still stood on the easel next to the windows. I turned it around so I couldn’t see it.

  It took a long time to fall asleep.

  The next morning, I rushed across the hall into Dad’s room. He was awake and sitting up in bed. He had a mug of coffee in his hands. “Dad—how do you feel?”
I cried.

  A broad smile formed between his walrus mustache. “Well … I’m alive,” he said. “Alive, but still fuzzy.”

  I sat down on the edge of the bed, careful not to bump the cast on his ankle. “Fuzzy?”

  He blinked at me a few times. “I know there’s only one of you. But I’m seeing two. Two Judys.”

  “You’re still seeing double?”

  He groaned and slid the ankle a few inches under the covers. “I guess it will take time. Luckily, I’ve got a hard head. It can survive any bump.”

  A cry escaped my throat. “Oh, Dad—I’m so sorry!” I said. I threw my arms around his shoulders and hugged him.

  He waited for me to calm down. “It’s okay. Really, it’s okay,” he said softly. “It wasn’t your fault, Judy. You can’t blame yourself.”

  “Of course it was my fault,” I replied. “If I—”

  He stopped me. “It was my fault,” he said. “I had a harness up there. I brought it up to the roof, but I didn’t strap it on. My own carelessness.”

  “But I—”

  He raised a hand to stop me. “Enough.” He took a long sip of coffee. “I’m going to be okay. A slight concussion and a broken ankle is a small price to pay for a fall like that.”

  Ira appeared in the doorway. “Good morning, Dad. Judy, can I see you for a moment?”

  I hurried over to him. “Dad says he is still fuzzy,” I whispered. “He’s seeing double.”

  Ira nodded. “So maybe you shouldn’t tell him about what happened to your painting yet,” he whispered. “We probably shouldn’t upset him until he’s feeling stronger.”

  I nodded. “You’re right.”

  We both returned to Dad’s bedside to chat for a while. “I’ll be back on my feet soon,” Dad said.

  “You mean, back on your foot soon!” I joked.

  Dad laughed. “In the meantime, Ira, you can do a few of the easy carpenter chores for me.”

  “No problem,” Ira told him. “I brought a lot of Band-Aids. So I should be able to hammer away like a pro.”

  We all laughed. It was nice to lighten up, at least for a few minutes.

  We talked a little while longer. “I have some audiobooks on my phone,” I told Dad. “I’ll come back after breakfast, and maybe we can listen to something.”

  “Meet you downstairs,” Ira said to me. He disappeared out the door.

  I waved good-bye to Dad and crossed the hall to my room.

  “Oh!”

  I stopped at my bedroom doorway and let out a startled gasp when I saw a tall guy next to the window.

  “Who are you?” I screamed. “What are you doing in here?”

  He spun toward me, and his eyes bulged with surprise.

  He was at least sixteen or seventeen, very tall and thin. I gaped at what he was wearing. He had a black T-shirt pulled down over black jeans. And a black cap tilted over his face.

  A black baseball cap.

  Was it the cap I had seen in the cabin?

  He motioned with both hands for me not to scream. He raised a finger to his lips.

  “Wh-who are you?” I stammered. I pressed my hands against the sides of the doorway. My legs suddenly felt shaky, and I couldn’t keep my heart from racing.

  “Shhh.” He kept his finger to his lips and took a step away from the window. He studied me as he moved closer.

  “I’m calling Baker. Why are you in my room?” I cried in a shrill burst of words.

  Again, he motioned with both hands for me to calm down.

  But why should I calm down?

  “Answer me!” I shrieked. “Who are you?”

  “Nobody,” he answered finally. “I’m nobody, hear?” He spoke slowly, in a deep voice. “I got turned around, that’s all. No big deal.”

  He crept closer, arms stiffly at his sides now. His eyes locked on me and didn’t blink.

  “You didn’t see me,” he replied in his low voice from deep in his chest.

  “Excuse me?” I gasped.

  “You didn’t see me. I didn’t touch anything. I wasn’t here.” He pulled the black cap lower over his head “Understand? I wasn’t here.”

  “N-no,” I stammered. “I don’t. Tell me. Were you in the cabin in the woods? Tell me!”

  I cried out as he opened his mouth in a fierce howl, spread his arms out at his sides—and leaped at me!

  “Hey—!”

  I ducked to one side, but I couldn’t get out of his way in time. He shoved me hard with both hands and sent me stumbling back into the hall.

  His eyes were wild and another animal howl escaped his throat.

  Before I could catch my balance, he swept past me and went racing down the hallway. With his long legs, he reached the stairway in seconds, and I heard him thudding down the steps.

  Stunned, I shook off my fear and took off after him. He was already out of sight by the time I reached the stairs. But I spun down the curving staircase as fast as I could.

  I heard running footsteps in the front room. I took a deep, shuddering breath and followed the sounds. No one in the living room.

  I made my way through the heavy, dark furniture. The stern faces on the wall portraits passed by in a blur.

  The sound of the footsteps was muffled, distant now. But I followed the long hall, trotting breathlessly.

  When I neared the den, a loud growl made me stop.

  I was panting hard, and I could feel hot drops of sweat on my cheeks and forehead.

  I cupped my hands around my ears and listened. I heard angry snarls, low growls, heavy thuds, and bangs.

  “Oh.” I heard a human groan. And then more animal sounds. Another groan.

  I froze for a moment, my hands still at my ears. My whole body shuddered.

  What is going on in there?

  I had to know. I forced my legs to move. I stumbled into the den—and let out a cry of surprise.

  I stared at Baker, on all fours, down on the carpet. He had his arms around Aurora’s back, as if tackling him. It took me a few seconds to realize they were wrestling.

  Growling and snapping at each other, both of them snarling and groaning, they rolled over one another. Baker finally stopped when he saw me standing there watching.

  He let go of his grip on the big dog and raised himself onto his elbows. A smile spread over his face. “Judy—”

  “I-I—” My words caught in my throat.

  “Aurora and I were having a little playtime,” Baker said. He twisted himself into a sitting position. He dusted off the front of his shirt with both hands.

  Aurora didn’t want to quit. He bumped Baker from behind, then licked the back of Baker’s neck.

  Baker gently pushed the dog’s big head away. His smile faded as he saw the distressed look on my face. “Judy? What’s wrong?”

  “There … was a boy in my room,” I stammered.

  Baker blinked. “Say again?”

  “A boy. In my room,” I told him. “Dressed in black. With a black baseball cap. I caught him. In my room. A stranger.”

  Baker narrowed his eyes at me. “Come on, Judy,” he said with a groan, “you’ve got to relax. Are you talking about the electrician who came to inspect the circuit breakers?”

  My mouth dropped open. I couldn’t speak. “Electrician?” I finally choked out.

  He nodded. “A young fellow,” he said. “Came to check out the breakers on your floor.”

  I wanted to scream at the top of my lungs: “I don’t believe you. Why would an electrician shove me out of the way and run down the stairs?”

  I knew he had to be lying. But how could I argue with him?

  I let out a choked gasp, turned, and strode out of the room.

  No more, I told myself. I don’t have time for Baker’s lies. I’ve had it. I’m fed up with everybody being so mysterious.

  I knew what I saw. I saw the boy dressed in black in my room. He wasn’t an electrician. Where were his tools? He warned me not to tell anyone. He shoved me out of the way and took of
f.

  I ran back through the empty living room, my angry thoughts boiling and bubbling. I knew what I was going to do. I was going to learn the truth. Get to the bottom of things. Find out why everyone in the Grendels’ house was acting so strange.

  “I’ll search everywhere till I find that boy,” I told myself. “I’ll find the boy—and the Beast—and put an end to all these lies.”

  Once again, my head felt about to burst. But at least I knew I couldn’t rely on anyone else. I had to solve the mystery of this place on my own.

  I needed fresh air. I had to get out of the house and clear my head.

  I was returning to my room to get my parka and boots. But the sad-eyed servant Harvard stepped in front of me before I got to the stairway.

  “Can I help you, Miss Judy?” he asked.

  I tried to scoot past him, but he didn’t budge. “No, you can’t,” I snapped.

  His eyes went wide with surprise. “If there’s anything I can do …” His voice trailed off.

  “You know you can’t help me,” I shouted. “You know you won’t tell me the truth about anything.” My angry outburst surprised even me.

  He swallowed noisily and took a few steps back. He lowered his gaze to the floor. “I’m sorry if I did something to offend you,” he muttered.

  I darted around him and leaped onto the stairway. He watched me race up the stairs.

  He’s useless, I thought. He won’t even tell me what Baker’s work is.

  I reached the second floor and hurried to Ira’s room. Empty.

  Where was he? Why wasn’t he ever in his room when I needed him?

  I wanted to tell him about the boy in my room. I wanted Ira to come out for a walk with me so we could talk. Ira was the only one I could talk to.

  “Ira?” I called his name even though he wasn’t there.

  Then I remembered. Dad had given him some simple carpentry jobs to do. Ira was somewhere in this giant house making repairs.

  I made my way down the hall and checked in on Dad. Hilda was just taking away his breakfast tray. “Your dad is doing much better.” She pointed to his coffee mug. “That’s his third cup. We don’t want him to get too wired—do we?”