Ninth Key Read Online Free PDF Page A

son.
    “What aha?” CeeCee looked interested. Then again, CeeCee always looks interested. She’s like a sponge, only instead of water, she absorbed facts. “Don’t tell me,” she said, “you’ve got it bad for that tool of a kid of his. I mean, what was that guy’s problem? He never even asked your name.”
    This was true. I hadn’t noticed it, either. But CeeCee was right. Tad hadn’t even asked my name.
    Good thing I wasn’t interested in him.
    “I’ve heard bad things about Tad Beaumont,” Adam said, shaking his head. “I mean, besides the fact that he’s carrying around his undigested twin in his bowels, well, there’s that embarrassing facial tic, controlled only by strong doses of Prozac. And you know what Prozac does to a guy’s libido —”
    “What’s Mrs. Beaumont like?” I asked.
    “There’s no Mrs. Beaumont,” CeeCee said.
    Adam sighed. “Product of divorce,” he said. “Poor Tad. No wonder he has such issues about commitment. I’ve heard he usually sees three, four girls at a time. But that might be on account of the sexual addiction. I heard there’s a twelve-step group for that.”
    CeeCee ignored him. “I think she died a few years ago.”
    “Oh,” I said. Could the ghost who’d shown up in my bedroom have been Mr. Beaumont’s deceased wife? It seemed worth a try. “Anybody got a quarter?”
    “Why?” Adam wanted to know.
    “I need to make a call,” I said.
    Four people in our lunch crowd handed me a cell phone. Seriously. I selected the one with the least intimidating number of buttons, then dialed Information, and asked for a listing for Thaddeus Beaumont. The operator told me the only listing they had was for a Beaumont Industries. I said, “Go for it.”
    Strolling over to the monkey bars — the Mission Academy holds grades K through twelve, and the playground where we eat lunch comes complete with a sandbox, though I wouldn’t touch it, what with the seagulls and everything — so I could have a little privacy, I told the receptionist who picked up with a cheerful, “Beaumont Industries. How may I help you?” that I needed to speak to Mr. Beaumont.
    “Who may I say is calling please?”
    I thought about it. I could have said, “Someone who knows what really happened to his wife.” But the thing is, I didn’t, really. I didn’t even know why it was, exactly, that I suspected his wife — if the woman even was his wife — of lying, and that Red really had killed her. It’s kind of depressing, if you think about it. I mean, me being so young, and yet so cynical and suspicious.
    So I said, “Susannah Simon,” and then I felt lame. Because why would an important man like Red Beaumont take a call from Susannah Simon? He didn’t know me.
    Sure enough, the receptionist took me off hold a second later, and said, “Mr. Beaumont is on another call at the moment. May I take a message?”
    “Uh,” I said, thinking fast. “Yeah. Tell him…tell him I’m calling from the Junipero Serra Mission Academy newspaper. I’m a reporter, and we’re doing a story on the…the ten most influential people in Salinas County.” I gave her my home number. “And can you tell him not to call until after three? Because I don’t get out of school till then.”
    Once the receptionist knew I was a kid, she got even nicer. “Sure thing, sweetheart,” she said to me in this sugary voice. “I’ll let Mr. Beaumont know. Buh-bye.”
    I hung up. Buh-bye bite me. Mr. Beaumont was going to be plenty surprised when he called me back, and got the Queen of the Night People, instead of Lois Lane.
    But the thing was, Thaddeus “Red” Beaumont never even bothered calling back. I guess when you’re a gazillionaire, being named one of the ten most influential people in Salinas County by a dinky school paper wasn’t such a big deal. I hung around the house all day after school and nobody called. At least, not for me.
    I don’t know why I’d thought it would be so easy. I guess I’d