Andi Unstoppable (8 page)

I elbowed my way through the crowd. I wanted to see the proof too. I examined the shot. The bird was perched on a stone of some sort. It was zoomed in too much; I couldn't see what type of stone it was. The hairs on the back of my neck stood up. “Where was this taken?”

“Right here in the park.” He turned off the camera and hung the strap around his head.

“When?” I asked. “It looks like it was at the graveyard in the middle of the park.”

He laughed. “Don't be ridiculous.”

“The bird was sitting on a stone by the river. It flows about a half mile south of here. I saw it yesterday afternoon.”

“Why didn't you say anything about it last night when we were all around the fire?” one of the triplets wanted to know.

Gregory turned off his camera. “And ruin your
retelling of Dominika Shalley's story? I didn't want to upstage you, Jim.”

Jim frowned as if he wasn't sure he believed that. I wasn't sure I believed that either.

“So what if Gregory saw it first?” Claudette interrupted. “We'll have our own chance to see the Kirtland's. If Gregory can find it in these woods, then so can I.”

Gregory smiled. “I find your overconfidence charming. Just be careful when you make an identification. We wouldn't want any embarrassing mistakes now, would we?”

Colin raised his eyebrows at me and I shrugged back. There was definitely some history between Gregory and Claudette. If Bergita wasn't going to tell me, I knew Claudette wouldn't say a word. I would have to find out another way.

A half hour later, the sun was still not fully up, but the early fall sky was a mix of purple, pink, and orange. I could have stood there and stared at it all day, but Claudette wasn't having that. She waited at the head of the path. “We're burning daylight, people!”

The three of us kids hiked our daypacks onto our backs and walked into the forest. With every step, I became more and more convinced that what Colin and I saw last night at the graveyard wasn't a ghost. Claudette had been right. The ghost story Jim told had gotten into our heads. Had one of the birders played a practical joke on us? If they had, they got us good.

Then again, I thought as I fell back in the line next to Bergita, I could always get a second opinion.
“Bergita,” I whispered. “What do you think about Dominika Shalley and the ghost story? Do you think it could be true?”

She stepped over a rock in the middle of the path. “I don't believe it. Ghosts are just fancies of a person's imagination. It's a good story, and I do love a good story. I'm sure when someone sees the ghost, or thinks they see the ghost, it's really a trick of the light or a shadow. It's something perfectly mundane. However, when someone gets an idea in their head that a ghost is around, then that person sees the ghost because their mind is playing tricks on them.”

I bit the inside of my lip. I couldn't tell Bergita that Colin and I had maybe seen the ghost. First of all, it would be admitting that we left our tents in the middle of the night, and second of all, she'd think we were crazy. The second was the worst. Bergita wouldn't be the least bit surprised that Colin and I went exploring.

Bergita sighed. “Claudette seems set on taking us on another death march today. I'll see if I can get her to slow down.” She forged ahead.

Ava walked over to me. “You're asking a lot of questions about the ghost. Are you scared?”

I glared at her. “No.”

“Could have fooled me,” she said with a shrug. She joined Bergita and Claudette at the front of the line.

Technically, only Claudette, Ava, Colin, Bergita, and I were together in our quest to see the Kirtland's warbler, but as I looked behind me I saw a line of birders eight deep, including the triplets, following us. They paused when I turned around. Suddenly every
last one of them brought their binoculars to their eyes like they were searching the trees for other birds.

We were being followed. I hurried to join the others at the beginning of the line. “Claudette, do you know you have other birders following you?”

“Don't worry about them,” Claudette said, glaring at the group of shame-faced birders. “They think the best chance they have of seeing the Kirtland's is by following me. I always have a group of leeches on my tail feathers.”

Ava rolled her eyes when Claudette said “tail feathers.” I had to admit it was taking the whole birder thing a little far.

One of the people following us was Paige, Gregory's student. I wondered why she was with us instead of with Gregory.

Claudette, Bergita, Ava, and Colin went on, but I stood on the edge of the path and waited for Paige and the other followers to catch up.

“Beautiful day, isn't it?” one of the triplets said.

“It is. Is this good weather for birding?” I asked.

He smiled. “The very best. I have a good feeling about today. I think Claudette will finally see her Kirtland's.”

“It is about time,” another triplet said.

I kicked a twig off the path. “I know she's never seen one before and really wants to see this one.”

The third triplet lowered his binoculars from scanning the treetops. “In a way, that's true.”

By now, my group had disappeared around the bend. Most of the other birders including Paige had gone
around the bend too. It was just me and the triplets. Today they wore matching navy blue windbreakers.

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“She claimed to have seen a Kirtland's warbler before. I believe it was at Magee Marsh, which is the best place for birding in Ohio, maybe in the entire country, during spring migration. We go every year, don't we, boys?”

The two other brothers agreed. “The very best birding.”

“Where is it?” I asked.

“Western Ohio near Lake Erie. Thousands of songbirds stop there in May to recharge before they make the final long flight over the Great Lakes into Canada. It's especially known for warblers. We've seen countless warblers there.” He sighed. “But never a Kirtland's, which is why we're here.”

I could no longer hear the group ahead moving through the forest. They must have gotten a long way ahead of us now. I wanted to hear what the triplets had to say, but they were going to have to speed it up if we had any hope of catching up with the others. “But Claudette thought she saw one there?”

“Right.” A triplet nodded. “I remember, it was at Magee, and there were almost a thousand birders, diehards and novices, there. Claudette called out that she saw a Kirtland's warbler, and of course, everyone rushed over to see.” He shook his head. “But it was evident to at least one expert that it was a misidentification. You see, warblers are difficult to identify at times because there are so many hybrids. If a warbler
can't find a mate of its exact species it will . . .” He blushed. “Well, in any case, the expert said it was most definitely a hybrid. He suspected that the most prominent species in it was a Nashville warbler. The size of the bird was the first tip-off to the mistake. Even though Kirtland's are hard to spot, they are larger than most warblers. They are about six inches. Most warblers are four and three quarters. This bird was smaller than a Kirtland's.”

“Were you there?”

They nodded in unison.

“We were,” one of the brother's replied. “It was a thrilling, if eventually disappointing, event.”

“When was this?” I asked.

He sucked on teeth. “I would say near about fifteen years ago.”

My mouth fell open. “Fifteen years ago and people are still talking about it?”

“The birder community, the elite birding community, is small, and they remember. If they weren't at the misidentification themselves, they heard the story from another. But, of course, by now, all is forgiven. Claudette has seen so many birds in so many places in the world that the community respects her. She's a bit of a celebrity really.” He lowered his voice. “Just between you, me, and my brothers here, I think she hasn't forgiven herself, so she is on this quest to see a Kirtland's.”

“Oh, I think you are right,” another triplet said.

“Very well said, Jack,” the third agreed, and at least now I knew which one was Jack.

“You said everyone has forgiven Claudette now, but what happened right after the misidentification?” I asked.

Jack shook his head. “She was disgraced in the birder community. It took her years to rebuild her reputation as a top birder.”

“She's been all over the world to prove it,” another brother said.

“It must have cost her a fortune with all the travel costs,” the third triplet agreed. “But she did it. She's dedicated her entire life to it.”

His comment reminded me of the argument I had overheard between Claudette and Bergita about money.

“Who was the birder who proved her wrong?” I asked, even though I already knew. It could only be one person.

“Gregory,” he said.

A bird song floated toward us.

“Oh!” Jack cried. “That's a palm warbler. We don't want to miss that. Come on, boys!” The triplets sprinted down the path with their daypacks bouncing on their backs the entire way. They could move pretty fast for three pudgy guys.

I didn't want to miss the palm warbler either so I followed them. I just made the turn in the bend of the road when Colin came running toward me. He was breathing hard. “Andi,” Colin said breathless. “What are you doing? We thought you wandered off the trail. Bergita and I have been looking for you.”

“Colin, take a breath,” I ordered. “Do you need
to take a couple puffs of your inhaler? If you have an asthma attack because you were looking for me, Bergita will never forgive me.”

He bent over, grabbed his knees, and breathed. “I'm okay.” After a few deep breaths, he straightened up.

“Why were you so worried?” I asked. Colin was used to my disappearing when we were in the middle of investigations. I had to follow wherever the case may lead.

“I — I thought . . .” He blushed bright red. “You will think I'm stupid if I say it.”

“No, I won't.”

“I thought maybe whatever we saw last night — and I'm not saying that it was a ghost — got you.”

I stared at him in disbelief. Colin was the most logical person I knew. If he believed in Dominika's ghost, then could it be true?

“I'm fine, Colin. I stopped to talk to one of the triplets, and I found out some information about Claudette and Gregory.” Quickly, I told him what I learned as we went down the path.

Colin's face cleared. I knew it was because I didn't make fun of him over the ghost thing. Truth be told, I was starting to wonder about it myself. I felt in my jeans pocket for the little piece of glittery fabric. Ghosts don't need glitter, I reminded myself. At least, I hoped they didn't.

The palm warbler sang again.

I followed the bend and found all the birders plus Claudette, Bergita, and Ava staring at a bird in a young
maple tree. Colin recorded the palm warbler in our assignment notebook.

“Colin, I think it's time we get out the casebook too.” I patted the shoulder strap of my daypack. “It's in here.”

He nodded seriously. “All these strange events call for a new investigation.”

CASE FILE NO. 10

Hours later, we trudged back to camp, hot,
tired, and without a sighting of the Kirtland's warbler.

Gregory leaned back in his lawn chair. “How did the expedition go, Claudette? I hope you at least saw a house sparrow.”

Claudette stopped just short of growling at him. “We saw many varieties of birds. The children will have a long list to take back to their teacher.”

A smile crossed his face. “But the Kirtland's warbler remains elusive. It's such a shame that you haven't seen one yet, Claudette. It's been too many years of searching. Maybe you should give up the quest.”

Claudette glared down at him. “Shut your mouth, you pompous jerk!”

Gregory's smile didn't even waver. “Please don't
resort to name-calling in front of my students and in front of your young charges. We wouldn't want them to get the idea that such behavior is acceptable, now would we?”

“Help! Help!” Paige raced out of the woods and was holding her chest. “Help!”

Everyone turned and stared at her.

Gregory leapt out of his chair. “Paige! What's wrong? Are you hurt?”

“I . . . I . . .”

“Spit it out, girl!” Claudette ordered.

Gregory glared at Claudette. “Please don't address my student in that manner.” He took Paige by the arm and lowered her into the chair he'd just left. “Are you all right?”

She nodded and looked up to find thirty people staring down at her. Her face turned bright red. “I had a terrible scare. I was in the woods. I planned to come back with everyone else, but I thought I heard an Eastern Towhee in the brush. I really wanted to get a good photo of one because they're my favorite bird. I was bent over searching the ground for it. You know they like to stay low.”

“Yes, we all know that,” Claudette snapped.

If possible, Paige's face turned even redder. “Right.” She took a deep breath. “Anyway, I was rooting through the brush, and I must have wandered off the path, because the trail disappeared. Before long, I found myself in the graveyard.”

A hush fell over the birders.

“You were in the Shalley cemetery?” Jack the
triplet asked. “You couldn't pay me to go there. The place is haunted.”

His brothers nodded in agreement.

Paige licked her lips. “I didn't plan to be there. I stumbled into it. I wanted to get out. I was looking at the map to decide which direction led to camp, when a shadow fell over the paper.” She shivered and her voice dropped low. We leaned in to hear what she was about to say next. “Then I saw her. She was on the far side of the graveyard, passing in the middle of the trees just beyond the ravine. I couldn't believe it. It was Dominika Shalley's ghost. I even pinched myself in case I was imagining it.”