The Skeleton in the Smithsonian Read online

  KC gulped. This was a crypt, where cemeteries put people’s coffins instead of burying them. She looked at Marshall to see if he’d figured it out.

  His eyes were huge and his face had turned gray.

  Holding her breath, KC moved to the front of the crypt. Marshall had his hand on her back. His hand was trembling.

  There was no light in the stone building, but KC could see Leonard Fisher kneeling with his back to the door. There were two stone coffins in the crypt, one on each side of where Fisher knelt. One of the coffins was closed. The other was not. Its lid was off and leaning against the wall.

  On the floor next to Fisher’s knees was the instrument case. It was open. Fisher had tossed his tool belt and the clippers into the top half.

  But it was the bottom half of the case that grabbed KC’s attention. In it, on blue velvet lining, lay a small skeleton.

  Suddenly KC felt Marshall stumble into her. She put out her hands to stop herself from falling.

  Leonard Fisher wheeled around. When he saw the kids, his mouth opened in surprise. KC watched him trying to figure out where he’d seen them before.

  Then he grinned. “Well, hello,” he said. “What are you doing here?” As he spoke, his right hand slowly moved to the instrument case. With one quick motion, he flipped it shut.

  “We followed you!” KC said.

  Fisher was still grinning, but his eyes looked nervous.

  “You followed me? Why?”

  “Because you lied to the president!” Marshall said.

  Fisher shook his head. “I lied? About what?”

  Before KC could answer him, Fisher jumped forward as fast as a rattlesnake strikes. He grabbed her and Marshall by the wrists and pulled them into the crypt. “Let’s keep this private, shall we?” he said, releasing their hands. “Besides, it’s cooler in here.”

  He leaned against the wall by the door. It was still open, letting sunlight into the damp chamber.

  Fisher took a pack of gum from one of his pockets and held it out to the kids. Neither took any. Fisher shrugged, slid out a piece, and began unwrapping it. “Now, you were saying … ?”

  “You told the president you were some fancy gardener, but you really work in a cemetery,” KC said.

  She pointed to the instrument case. “And there’s a skeleton in there. I saw it!”

  Suddenly Marshall understood. “You switched skeletons!” he cried. “You’re not related to James Smithson! You knew they’d check his DNA, so you put one of your dead relatives in the sarcophagus!” Marshall pointed to the open coffin. “It was him, wasn’t it?”

  “You’re pretty smart kids,” Fisher said. “Yeah, I switched. The one I left in the museum is my great-great-grandfather.” He nodded toward the instrument case. “And that’s James Smithson. But by the time anyone figures that out, I’ll be long gone—with a hundred million bucks in my pocket. I’ll disappear forever.”

  “No, you won’t!” KC said. “We’re telling the president as soon as we get back!”

  Fisher laughed. “Back? You’re not going back,” he said. “At least not till I’m far away from here.”

  He ran up the steps and out of the crypt. Before KC or Marshall could react, he’d slammed the door.

  7

  Trapped!

  “Stop!” Marshall yelled. He leaped toward the door but tripped on KC’s feet. They both fell over, then scrambled up and tried to force the metal door open. It stayed solidly shut.

  “He locked it,” Marshall said. “What are we gonna do?”

  It was totally dark. KC couldn’t even see Marshall, though she knew he was standing right next to her. “I’m sitting down,” she said, “so we don’t trip over each other again.”

  She hunched down, and she felt Marshall sit next to her. The floor of the crypt was cold, damp stone. KC felt goose bumps racing up her arms.

  “Someone will come looking for us,” she said. She tried to sound calm.

  “Like who?” Marshall said, sounding not at all calm. “No one knows where we are!”

  KC realized Marshall was right. They’d taken the number 13 bus without going home, so KC hadn’t left a note for her mother. And the president had no idea where they were.

  KC started to say that as soon as their parents got worried, they’d come looking. But of course, they wouldn’t know where to look. Not even the FBI would find KC and Marshall in a Maryland cemetery.

  Then KC remembered the one person who did know where they were.

  “The bus driver!” she said. “He said he’d look for us at the gate in an hour How much time is left, Marsh?”

  The hands on Marshall’s watch glowed in the dark. “He dropped us off thirty-two minutes ago,” he said.

  “Okay, so when we don’t show up in a half hour, the bus driver will tell somebody we’re in the cemetery.”

  “But, KC, he doesn’t know that we’re locked in this dumb crypt,” Marshall said. “Even if someone comes to the cemetery, they won’t know where to look for us!”

  “Oh,” KC said. She thought for a minute. “There might be more people visiting graves,” she said. “We have to make a lot of loud noise. Did you see anything we can bang with?”

  “Like what, a drum?” Marshall wisecracked. “KC, this is where they keep dead people. There’s nothing in here but two coffins that weigh about a million pounds each.”

  “And the musicians case,” KC said. “Could we use that?”

  “I’m not touching that thing,” Marshall said. “Did you forget it’s filled with bones?”

  “Not just bones,” KC said. “I saw the hedge clippers in there, too!”

  She scrambled over Marshall’s knees and crawled around until she felt the instrument case. Her fingers unhooked the clasps, and she lifted the lid. She took a deep breath and reached in, knowing the skeleton was lying there. But her fingers felt the rubber handles of the hedge clippers. They’d fallen on top of the bones when Fisher slammed the case shut.

  KC grabbed the heavy clippers and crawled back to Marshall.

  “Did you get ’em?” he asked.

  “Yes!” KC began banging on the crypt door with the metal blades. The clanging noise bounced around the space.

  “I hope it sounds that loud outside,” Marshall said.

  KC smacked the tool against the door until her arms grew tired, and then Marshall took over.

  When Marshall stopped, KC heard a high-pitched noise outside. “Do you hear that?” she asked.

  “It’s Happy!” Marshall cried. “He’s barking! He knows we’re in here!”

  Marshall dropped the hedge clippers and began yelling. KC and Marshall could hear the little dog’s excited yelping. He sounded close.

  “Good dog, Happy!” Marshall yelled. “Happy, go get Mommy! Find Mommy!”

  Happy stopped barking. KC and Marshall pressed their ears against the door. Then they heard a wonderful sound. “Is someone in there?” Happy’s owner asked.

  “Yes!” Marshall screamed.

  “Can you get us out?” KC cried.

  “There’s a big padlock,” the woman said. “I can’t imagine how I’ll get it unlocked.”

  Happy began to bark again.

  “I know!” the woman yelled through the door. “I passed a gas station when I drove here. I’ll go there and get someone to break this lock. Will you be all right?”

  “We’ll be okay,” KC said. “But please hurry!”

  After she left, the kids slumped back onto the stone floor. The floor was cold, and KC shivered.

  “It’s f-freezing in this place,” Marshall said, shivering. “I’ll never complain about the heat again!”

  The kids sat, leaning against each other for warmth. KC felt herself growing sleepy. Her eyes closed, but she blinked them open again. Her head felt so heavy. She let her chin fall and closed her eyes. This time she didn’t try to open them again.

  The next thing she knew, Marshall was shaking her by the shoulder. “KC, wake up! They’re here!” he
cried.

  8

  Found

  When KC sat up, she felt groggy. She heard a man’s voice through the door “Are you kids all right?” the voice called.

  “We’re okay!” Marshall yelled back.

  “Great, we’ll have you out in a jiffy,” the voice said. “Stand back while I bust this lock!”

  KC and Marshall moved a few feet away from the door. Suddenly they heard a loud smashing sound of metal against metal. The door opened, and sunlight flooded the crypt. Blinking in the sudden light, KC and Marshall staggered up the steps.

  The first thing KC saw was Happy, the little white dog. He was straining at his leash, barking and practically dancing with excitement.

  Happy’s owner was standing with two police officers. A police car was parked a few yards away.

  “Thank goodness you’re all right!” Happy’s owner said.

  KC smiled at the woman. “Thank you so much! We would have been trapped in that crypt forever if your dog hadn’t found us!”

  Marshall got on his knees and gave Happy a big hug. Happy licked Marshall’s face and wiggled all over.

  “Who locked you kids in there?” the male officer asked. He was a tall man with a friendly face.

  “Leonard Fisher,” KC said. “We have to hurry! He’s getting away!”

  “Leonard Fisher?” the officer repeated. “Isn’t he the heir to the Smithsonian fortune?”

  “Yeah,” said Marshall, still holding Happy. “But he’s not really an heir!”

  KC quickly explained how Leonard Fisher had lied about being related to James Smithson.

  “He put his great-great-grandfather’s skeleton in the Smithsonian,” Marshall added. “Then he stole James Smithson’s skeleton and brought it here!” Marshall pointed through the door at the instrument case.

  All three adults stared down into the crypt. The bones were easy to see in the sunlight.

  “This is a crime scene,” the female officer said. She walked to the cruiser and came back with a roll of wide yellow plastic tape. She and her partner quickly wrapped the tape around the crypt.

  “Okay, let’s go,” the male officer said. “Where do you kids live?”

  “We’re not going home yet,” KC told the man.

  He looked at her. “So where do you want us to take you?”

  “To the White House!” KC said.

  Less than an hour later, the kids were sitting across from President Thornton, Vice President Kincaid, and KC’s mom. The adults listened wide-eyed as KC told the story.

  The kind police officers had called the White House from their car. They’d been put right through to the vice president. She’d told the president, he’d called KC’s mom, and all three had been waiting when the police car arrived.

  Now they were in the president’s private rooms. A maid had brought in sandwiches and they were all eating lunch. George the cat lay snoozing in a patch of sunshine.

  “You went to Maryland on a bus without telling me?” KC’s mom said. “If I weren’t so relieved, I’d ground you right now!”

  “I’m sorry, Mom,” KC said. “But we had to follow Leonard Fisher. I just knew there was something weird about him.”

  “Well, as it turns out, you were right on the money,” President Thornton said. He tapped a memo he was holding. “Our FBI agents picked up Mr. Fisher. He admitted everything.”

  “His idea was very clever,” the vice president said. “Fisher assumed that we’d end up comparing his DNA with that of James Smithson. So he simply switched skeletons ahead of time. He never even told his lawyer what he’d done.”

  “He broke the air-conditioning in the Smithsonian,” Marshall said. “Then he pretended to be a repairman so he could go in and swap the skeletons.”

  The president smiled at Marshall. “When you brought up DNA, Fisher was actually relieved,” he said. “He couldn’t suggest DNA himself or it would seem suspicious. So he was happy when you did it for him.”

  “What made you suspect him to begin with?” KC’s mom asked.

  KC pointed to the vase of tall flowers on the table. “When he came here, he was sneezing and told us he was allergic to lilies,” she said. “But there weren’t any lilies in the vase!”

  “So Fisher wasn’t a landscape designer for the rich?” the president said. “I wonder why he lied about that.”

  “I don’t think he wanted you to know he worked for the cemetery,” KC said. “He was afraid you’d find out his relatives were buried there and you might figure out his plan.”

  Mary Kincaid nodded. “I think you’re right,” she said. “Let’s just all be grateful to that little dog.”

  The president glanced at KC and Marshall. “I don’t know why we need a police force or FBI agents,” he said. “With you two on the job, crooks don’t stand a chance!”

  KC and Marshall blushed.

  “Well, I have to get busy,” the vice president said. “We have to return the two skeletons to their rightful resting places.”

  “And I have to get back to my office,” KC’s mom said, glancing at the president.

  President Thornton stood up. “Yes, let me get a car for you, Lois,” he said. “I’ll call from the other room.”

  The president and KC’s mom left the room together. KC and Marshall were alone with George the cat.

  “Gee, that’s funny,” Marshall said as he reached for a cookie.

  “What is?” KC asked.

  Marshall grinned at KC. “I wonder why the president had to leave the room to use the phone? There’s one right there on that table.”

  KC couldn’t think of a good reason.

  “I think they wanted to be alone,” Marshall whispered.

  “And I think you have an overactive imagination!” KC shot back.

  “Me? That’s the best joke I’ve heard in a year!”

  Just then the door opened. The president and KC’s mom walked back in.

  “Are you two finished with lunch?” KC’s mom asked the kids. “The car is ready for us.”

  As KC and Marshall got ready to leave, KC stole a glance at her mom and the president. They were standing next to each other by the door. The presidents left arm and her mom’s right arm were an inch apart.

  But their pinkie fingers were touching.

  The next day, KC and Marshall stood with the president in the Smithsonian Castle. The same two scientists as before removed the lids from the sarcophagus and a special container holding Smithson’s remains. The scientists silently exchanged the two skeletons and replaced the lids. They left the building carrying old Mr. Fishers skeleton in the container. They told the president they were on their way to Bowie, Maryland.

  When the kids followed the president out of the Castle, KC was surprised to find her mom waiting on the steps.

  “Mom, what’re you doing here?” KC asked.

  “I decided to take the day off,” her mom said, glancing at the president.

  “And I’m taking us all to lunch,” the president said. “Your mother and I have something to tell you, KC.”

  Marshall snorted and gave KC a playful shove. He waggled his eyebrows.

  KC returned the shove. She smiled at her mother and the president. “Good,” she said. “I love surprises!”

  Read KC and Marshall’s next adventure!

  The Spy in the White House

  When KC and Marshall walked into the president’s rooms, they got a shock.

  KC’s mom was crying. The president stood next to her, holding a newspaper in his hand.

  “Mom, what’s wrong?” KC asked. She hurried over to her mother.

  The president held out the paper so KC and Marshall could see Darla Darling’s column. The headline was at least five inches tall. It said:

  PRESIDENT MAY

  CANCEL WEDDING!

  “Someone is spying on us!” Lois said, wiping her eyes. “They’re hearing our private conversations!”

  Did you know?

  The SMITHSONIAN takes its nam
e from James Smithson. He died in 1829 and left his money to a nephew. But when the nephew died with no children, all that money came to the United States— more than half a million dollars!

  Why did Smithson leave his wealth to the United States? This has always been a mystery. He was born in France, grew up in England, and died in Italy. He never actually visited this country!

  James Smithson was born into a wealthy family. When he grew up, he became a scientist and studied chemistry and geology. There’s even a rock named after him—smithsonite.

  We may never know why Smithson chose the United States to receive his fortune. But he wrote that he wanted the money to be used to create a place for learning. He got his wish in 1855, when the first Smithsonian building was completed. It was built of red stone and looked like a castle.

  When James Smithson died in Italy in 1829, he was buried there. But in 1904, the United States sent Alexander Graham Bell to Italy to bring the remains to Washington, D.C. James Smithson would be pleased to know his final resting place is inside the first Smithsonian building.

  About the Author

  Ron Roy is the author of more than fifty books for children, including the bestselling A to Z Mysteries® and the brand-new Capital Mysteries series. He lives in an old farmhouse in Connecticut with his dog, Pal. When he’s not writing about his favorite kids in Green Lawn, Connecticut, and Washington, D.C., Ron spends time restoring his house, gardening, and traveling all over the country.

  Photo credits: Smithsonian Institution Archives, Record Unit 95, Box 21, Neg. #82-3196, Neg. #10192, and Box 30, Neg. #76-4354.

  Text copyright © 2003 by Ron Roy. Illustrations copyright © 2003 by Timothy Bush. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. Published in the United States by Random House Children’s Books, a division of Random House, Inc., New York.