“What’s that?” asked Judy.
“My little friend,” said Zack, doing his killer bee accent. “Aunt Ginny gave it to me when she came down to tuck me in.”
“So you’ve been double-tucked?”
“Yeah.”
“Good. You deserve it.”
“Oh, shoot,” said Zack.
“What?”
“I meant to tell Aunt Ginny that Malik loaned her puzzle to a friend.”
“Huh?”
“We found this brainteaser in her trunk and Malik asked me if his friend could borrow it. I said yes. I was going to tell Aunt Ginny but things got so busy, first in the hardware store, then here, I just forgot!”
“You found this puzzle in her trunk? The trunk that seems to have exploded all over your bedroom?”
“Yeah.”
“Don’t worry. I don’t think Aunt Ginny will mind. Trust me—she still has plenty of other toys to play with.”
Zack smiled. “Okay. Thanks, Mom.”
“See you in the morning, hon.”
She flicked off the lights and shut the door.
Zack closed his eyes and, wiped out from the most exciting and most exhausting Halloween he could remember, started drifting off to sleep.
* * *
Around midnight, Zack heard Zipper panting.
Really loudly.
And the wet dribble of dog drool.
Actually, it couldn’t be Zipper. The panting was too heavy and Zipper seldom slobbered.
Zack opened an eye.
Grandpa Jim was sitting in his favorite chair again. This time, he had brought along the big black dog with the glowing red eyeballs.
“Rest up, Zack,” he said, patting the dog on its massive head. “Shuck and I will keep our eyes peeled for any trouble.”
“Is it coming?”
“Most likely. I have a feeling this thing will get worse before it gets any better.”
Jenny Ballard watched Norman Ickes twitching on the ground, his kicking feet knocking down the dead candles.
“Norman?” She bent down to touch his cold and clammy forehead. “Norman?”
He wasn’t breathing.
“Ohmigod. Norman? Norman!”
An eye popped open.
Jenny put a hand over her racing heart.
“You scared me. I thought you were dead.”
Norman’s head and torso bolted upright into a sitting position. He sucked down a deep breath.
“That’s it, Norman,” said Jenny. “Breathe. Nice and easy.”
A smirk curled Norman’s lip. “What’s your name again?”
“Jenny. Remember?”
Norman stood up. His legs seemed kind of rubbery as he dusted off his pants. “Sure, sure. Jenny. You’re the dame Barnabas has been bossin’ around.”
“Excuse me?”
“What’s this?” Norman, more uncoordinated than usual, dug into his pocket and pulled out a black stone shaped like a heart. “Well, ring-a-ding-ding. Your Norman was a swell egg. Scamming the charm off the witches? That’s smooth.”
“Huh?”
“This here’s the warden’s key, toots.” The man who looked like Norman tossed the shiny stone up and caught it as if it were a black apple. “So, did you bring the knife?”
“Yes, Norman. I did everything the raven voice told me to do.”
“Atta girl. Fork it over.”
Jenny handed the weapon, which had a curved blade on the bottom and jagged saw teeth on the top, to the man who really wasn’t Norman anymore.
“Who are you?” she asked. “Are you one of Norman’s deceased ancestors?”
“That’s right. My friends used to call me Izzy. Crazy Izzy Ickleby.”
“When did you die?”
“About seventy years before you.”
“What? I’m not—”
Before Jenny could say “dead,” the man who used to be Norman jammed the knife blade into her stomach and twisted it sharply to the right.
“Say hello to all my pals on the other side, toots.”
And those were the last words Jenny Ballard ever heard.
Around ten, Judy sat down in the breakfast nook with a second cup of coffee and breathed a sigh of relief.
It was the morning after Halloween. Zack and the whole family had survived. Yes, there would be some expenses related to the damages at Ickes & Son Hardware and they’d need to fix up the porch railing where it had been scarred by a ghost’s extremely lethal knife, but all in all, things could have been worse.
Now it was November 1, the sun was shining, George had gone down to New York City on the 7:10 train, Zack had taken the bus to school, and Judy had the house to herself. Well, except for George’s three aunts, who seemed to be sleeping in.
Zipper sank into his doggy bed and let out his own long sigh. Poor guy looked bushed.
“Relax, Zip,” said Judy. “Halloween is officially over.”
That was when George’s three aunts bustled through the kitchen, making a beeline for the back door.
“Good morning, Judy,” chirped Aunt Ginny as she bobbled by.
Aunt Hannah and Aunt Sophie were right behind her.
“Good morning, ladies,” said Judy. “Hey, I was wondering—should we talk some more about last night and all these Icklebys?”
“We were wondering the same thing,” huffed Aunt Hannah. “Sisters? Outside. Now!”
“Can I come with you?”
“Sorry, dear,” said Aunt Sophie. “It’s not a good idea.”
“Huh?”
“Enjoy your coffee, dear,” said Aunt Ginny. “We really don’t have anything to talk about besides this lovely weather.…”
“Oh, yes we do, Virginia!” said Hannah.
The three sisters, trailed by their three cats, scuttled out the back door.
Judy gave the ladies a few seconds and then slipped over to the sink so she could spy on them through the curtains.
The three of them were standing in a circle around the kettle-shaped barbecue grill.
“Perhaps we should eat breakfast first?” said Aunt Sophie.
“No,” fumed Aunt Hannah. “Virginia, you did this, didn’t you?”
“I did not!” said Ginny. “But now that they’re out, we need to act swiftly. I think we should—”
Suddenly, Ginny glanced at the kitchen window.
Judy hurriedly retreated from the sink, returned to the breakfast nook, and snapped on the countertop TV so she could pretend that was what she’d been doing all along if Aunt Ginny came back in.
“And in local news,” said the television anchorwoman, “police suspect foul play in the Haddam Hill Cemetery outside North Chester, where, late last night, some local teenagers discovered the body of Ms. Jenny Ballard. Dressed in what the police described as a ‘witch’s robe,’ the young girl may have been murdered in what authorities speculate was a bizarre Halloween ritual.”
The TV showed the crime scene marked off by police tape in front of a mausoleum. A name was chiseled over the door:
ICKLEBY
Ickleby!
Who were these people?
Judy gulped one last swig of coffee. “Zip, guard the house. I need to run to the library—now.”
Crazy Izzy Ickleby walked up the main drag of North Chester inside Norman Ickes’s body.
His new skin suit didn’t quite fit right, so his feet kept slip-sliding sideways, like he was walking around in socks on a just-waxed wood floor. Izzy didn’t care if he looked like a loose-limbed palooka. He had a body. He was breathing again. He was alive!
And he had a job to do for the big cheese, Barnabas.
He needed to get hold of a gun and some money.
Fortunately, while shoving Norman’s soul out of the driver’s seat, Izzy was able to tap into the sap’s memory banks. He now knew everything Norman had ever known, including all sorts of useless bunk about solving puzzles and the different sizes of crescent wrenches.
He also knew where Norman’s coworker, Stephen Snertz, stashed his heater—a six-shot Smith & Wesson.