We dropped napkins and silverware on the table and ran back into the kitchen. The smell of burning was much stronger. And the kitchen was filling up with smoke, too.
Claudia yanked the oven door open and Stacey did the same to the microwave. Nothing. I jerked open-the pantry door. I saw smoke there, too, but no fire.
Then I saw it. I raised my hand and pointed.
Through the window of the kitchen door, I could see flames leaping up outside.
"Fire!" shouted Claudia. "I'll get Janine."
"I'll call nine-one-one," I said.
Stacey reached for the back door and Claudia said, with amazing calmness, "Don't open the door. It might make the fire worse."
"We should close the kitchen door behind us," I said as Claudia dashed to the foot of the stairs.
"JANINE!" she screamed.
"What?" Janine's voice sound faintly irritated.
"FIRE!" shouted Claudia.
That got Janine's attention. She shot out into the hallway and peered down the stairs.
The smoke was rising now.
She half turned and Claudia said, "Don't go back. Leave now. Come on."
"But my computer - "
"NOW!" shouted Claudia.
We all looked at her in surprise, but Janine obeyed. A moment later, we dashed for the front door, slamming doors behind us as we went. Claudia made a mad dash for the next-door neighbors' to call the fire department, and Stacey and Janine and I ran around to the back of the house.
It was a fire all right. But as hot as it was blazing, it gave me a cold chill.
Because it wasn't an accident. Two trash cans had been set up near the back door. The firefighters said later that rags soaked in gasoline had been stuffed into the cans and then lit, after the cans were set up.
The fire had been set deliberately. And if we hadn't acted as fast as we had, it might have spread - maybe even to the house.
Chapter 6.
Claudia.
"Maybe it's all connected," said Abby.
"How?" Kristy shot back. If I hadn't known better, I'd have thought that all the excitement - if that's what you want to call it - of the last few days was getting on her nerves.
We were halfway through our Friday afternoon meeting of the BSC, but nowhere near through discussing everything that had happened.
Mary Anne said, "Well, first I found that weird note in what looks like Logan's handwriting. But I'm almost absolutely positive he didn't write it. Then, on that very same day, someone throws a rock through your front window and writes graffiti on your front door. I mean, the graffiti was sort of like an anonymous note, too. And then someone sets a fire at Claudia's."
"True," said Kristy. "The police kept asking Watson and Mom if they have any enemies."
"The fire marshal asked us the same question," I said. "They know how it was done, but not a single clue about who did it."
"Same thing at our house," said Kristy. "They're still investigating, but they don't have a single suspect."
"Cokie Mason?" said Stacey.
"No!" cried Mary Anne.
"She's sent anonymous notes before, remember?" Stacey persisted. "And she is jealous of you, Mary Anne." Mary Anne looked even more unhappy. She always tries to see the best in everyone and I think it shocks her to realize that some people's best sides aren't all that good.
"But what about the fire? I don't know Cokie very well," said Jessi, "but I can't believe that even she would set a fire deliberately."
"I agree," I said. "Or lurk around outside Mary Anne's house in the dark alone. Or throw a rock through a window. Cokie's nasty, but she's not a criminal."
Then Stacey asked, "What about Cary Retlin?"
That stopped us all for a moment. Who could forget Cary Retlin? He'd been involved in a mystery that Stacey had helped solve, when someone had tried to sabotage a school dance. We never had figured out quite how much trouble Cary was capable of making though. He seemed to enjoy it. "Cary Retlin is a possibility," said Mal. She hadn't been talking much, just sitting with her arms folded and a glum, faraway expression on her face. "Or maybe it's just some stranger."
"Some random person?" I asked. I didn't know which was worse: thinking that some- one who knew us could be behind the horrible, creepy things that had been happening, or that some stranger might be stalking us and our families.
Suddenly I didn't want to talk about it anymore. The police and the fire marshal were on the case. They could handle it. No need for us to worry.
But it didn't look as though we were going to be cut loose from crime anytime soon. Abby said, "Well, solve this mystery, then. Why haven't we heard anything about that burglary Kristy and I saw on Wednesday? Nothing in the newspapers, nothing on television, nada. Total nada."
Jessi suggested, "Maybe there was more important news?"
"Hey, I wasn't expecting a headline," said Abby, "but it should have at least made the police blotter section."
"You read the police reports in the newspaper?" Mary Anne said, her eyes widening.
"Sure. Doesn't everybody?" asked Abby.
Kristy said, "Maybe it wouldn't be a bad idea to check it out now. We could see if anything like what's been happening to us has been happening around Stoneybrook. Maybe It's part of some vandalism wave or something."
I'm not a coward, but I was shaken by what had happened. The assumption that the events could be linked together somehow, that a single person could be responsible for so much evil, made the smell of smoke that lingered in the air seem positively malevolent.
The only real damage had been to our trash cans, but I knew it could have been worse.
Much worse.
What if we hadn't come home when we did? What if Janine hadn't smelled the smoke until . . .
"My mom and dad get the newspaper," I said brightly. I jumped up and ran out of the room and downstairs to the front door.
The newspaper had been delivered. I bent to pick it up - then slowly straightened.
What if someone were out there, right now, watching my house?
Quickly I slammed the door and ran back upstairs, dropping the newspaper on Krist/s lap as I returned to my seat.
"Let me see some of it," said Abby.
Kristy handed her a section of the newspaper without speaking.
"Anybody else want part of the paper?" asked Abby, looking around.
"Here it is," said Kristy. "Local Crime Beat.' Look, Claudia! We're in it!"
Clearing her throat, Kristy read the crime report aloud.
The fire at our house was described as "Fire of Mysterious Origin." That meant, after we'd deciphered the weird language the police report was written in, that there'd been a fire and nobody knew who had set it. "Arson suspected," the report concluded.
Arson. The word sent a chill down my spine.
I looked around the room and realized that I wasn't the only one who had been affected by the word. Arson. It had a nasty, criminal sound to it. But then, why shouldn't it? It was the name of a crime.
"Are you going to keep reading?" Abby asked. "If it's too much, I'll - "
"It's fine," said Kristy. She kept reading. Whoever had broken the window and sprayed the threat on her front door was described as a "vandal." No suspects, the report said.
"Well, great." Abby sounded disgusted. "Why haven't they reported the burglary?"
"Maybe you just missed seeing it," suggested Jessi.
"Nope," said Abby.
The phone rang and for a moment we all stared at it as if we didn't know why it was making that noise. Then Stacey said, "Oh!" and picked it up.
We went on with business as usual after that. Kristy checked the weather report in the paper, and read a prediction of "possible snow" for the weekend at Shadow Lake.
She groaned.
"Don't they have snow machines at the ski areas?" I asked.
"It's not the same," Kristy complained.
"You are so right," agreed Abby. "Nothing like real powder."
Stacey suddenly laughed. "As long as it's soft! I'm barely off the bunny slope, don't forget."
I opened my mouth to tell Stacey not to worry, that I'd stick with her. But I didn't have a chance.
"Hey, no prob," said Abby. "I'll have you skiing the black diamond trails in no time."
"Black diamond? Oh, right. The really hard ones." Stacey laughed again. "That'll be the day."
"Well, maybe not the expert trails," Abby conceded.
She sounded so sure of herself.
So cocky.
Aloud I said, "You know, people get killed every year, trying to ski on trails they aren't ready for. Killed dead."
Abby looked startled. And she wasn't the only one.
I folded my arms. "I mean, I don't want to see Stacey getting hurt. She doesn't have to prove anything. She just wants to have a good time."
Mary Anne the peacemaker intervened. "Well, you'll have a good time no matter what kind of snow you have. And wait until you see Shadow Lake, Abby. It's really, really beautiful."
"Yeah," said Kristy. She leaned back in her chair and pushed her visor up. "Shadow Lake. I can hardly wait."
She looked at her watch. "This meeting. . ."
But before she could adjourn, the phone rang one last time.
I picked it up. "Baby-sitters Club. May I help you?" I asked.
No one answered.
"Hello?" I said.
Again no one answered.
''Hello!" I almost shouted.
"You're next," a voice whispered.
And then the line went dead.
Chapter 7.
Kristy.