Wilma Tenderfoot: The Case of the Fatal Phantom by Kennedy Emma

Author:Kennedy, Emma [Kennedy, Emma]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781101575635
Publisher: Penguin Group US
Published: 2012-06-14T00:00:00+00:00

15

“Mr. Goodman!” called Wilma, skiing skillfully to catch up with her mentor (she had done lots of skiing when in the Institute for Woeful Children, where it had been her job to water the cabbages, even in snowy weather). “I just saw something that might change your mind about spooks, especially at the Hoo. As we were leaving, Pickle was doubling back to demonstrate some ski basics to Inspector Lemone, and he spotted a set of footprints in the snow. They went right up to the wall of the house and then just disappeared. I tried to call you, but I think your earmuffs must be on too tight and you didn’t hear me.”

“Interesting,” said Theodore, stopping abruptly and looking down at his apprentice. “And you saw no footprints going away from the wall?”

“No, none,” said Wilma with a small shake of her head. “They just stopped. The only other thing was two round holes in the snow on either side of the last set of footprints. And that was it.”

“And where were these marks?”

Wilma pointed to the front of the house.

“The south side. Hmmm.”

“So they could be actual spook prints, couldn’t they, Mr. Goodman? Because only a spook can walk up to a wall and disappear. So now do you believe Blackheart Hoo is haunted?”

“I don’t, Wilma, but you obviously do. And you seem determined to convince me. So I’ll say this: If you CAN prove to me the existence of ghosts—with facts and solid clues that cannot be interpreted in any other way—well, I promise to be open-minded.”

That was all Wilma needed to hear. Her own special spook case was well and truly on.

“Mr. Goodman!” Another ski-wearing figure emerged from the swirl of snowflakes. It was Dr. Flatelly. “Good morning!” As the group drew closer to him he shot the Inspector a puzzled glance. “Aren’t those shorts a bit…you know…?” Inspector Lemone bit his lip and looked away. The archaeologist shrugged, then turned to the most famous and serious detective. “I’m here as promised. Glad to be of help. Especially with the diary. What with it being so hard to decipher. For someone as young as Wilma, that is.”

Wilma’s eyes flashed with indignation. She might be small, but she was certainly determined, and it was her job to assist, not his.

Seeing that his apprentice was a little rattled, Mr. Goodman gave her a quick pat on her bobble-hatted head. “I should caution you, Dr. Flatelly,” he said with a grave look, “that our journey will be treacherous.” The wind howled through his mustache. “And not necessarily just because of the weather.”

“It’s true. We are constantly in scrapes,” added Wilma, trying to look official. “But we are trained professionals.” Theodore raised his eyebrows. “Well…Mr. Goodman and Inspector Lemone are. But I will be too one day. So will Pickle.”

“Not a problem,” replied Flatelly with a wave of his hand. “As a boy I often climbed the one small hill, so I’m used to a bit of rough and tumble. And as for anything more sinister, well, I am an archaeologist.

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