Spyhole Secrets Read Online Free Page A

hated it even more when it felt as if the smiles were starting to be real. As if maybe her mother already was starting to forgive God for whathad happened to the Merediths only three months before, on that awful tenth day of June.
    Hallie’s anger flared up again and then soured into a feeling of guilt. Guilt for wanting her mother to go on feeling the way they both did that day when the policeman came to the door to ask Hallie’s mother if she was Mrs. Meredith. To ask that one question and then to say “I’m afraid I have bad news, Mrs. Meredith.”
    “Yeah, fabulous,” Hallie said again, trying this time to sound as if she really meant it. Then she clenched her teeth, shut her eyes, and kept them shut until her mother went back into the kitchen.
    Dinner that night was, as usual, mostly microwave stuff. Hallie didn’t blame her mother for that, at least not very much. She could remember how she and her father used to kid her mother about being a gourmet cook, or at least a very adventuresome one, always trying out new recipes. But that was another thing that had changed a lot since Bloomfield. Oh, it was probably true, as her mother kept reminding her, that it was hard to switch over to recipe books when you’ve been reading financial statements all day. Still, microwave lasagna for the third time in a week and grocery-store cookies for dessert didn’t do a whole lot to improve a less-than-perfect day. Even though she was pretty hungry, Hallie hardly ate anything.
    The cookies were still waiting on the table andHallie’s mind was wandering when her mother reached over to pat her on the arm. “Hallie,” she said, “did you hear me? You seem to be a million miles away.”
    “Hear you? Oh, I guess not.” Hallie shook her head. “Was it something about…” A word or two floated back. “Was it something about the Tilsons?”
    Her mother sighed and shook her head. “What I said was, I forgot to drop off the Tilsons’ yogurt. Could you run it down for me?”
    The Tilsons, who lived in one of the halfway-nice apartments on the second floor, were always having her mother pick up things for them at the store. Especially yogurt. The Tilsons ate a lot of yogurt.
    “Not again,” Hallie said. Getting the big carton out of the refrigerator, she reluctantly started downstairs. Reluctantly because the Tilsons were too …
Yeah, too what?
Hallie asked herself. The Tilsons were a really old couple who had been superhelpful when the Merediths arrived at the Warwick Mansion, clueing them in on important information like where to pick up their mail and how to keep the ancient coin-operated washing machine from flooding the whole basement. They’d even gone so far as to send up some cherry pie on that first day. And not just two pieces—a whole freshly baked cherry pie.
    So they were too what? Too friendly? Or maybe too sympathetic? Or too nosy? Yeah, that was it. TheTilsons were too nosy, Hallie decided as she rang their doorbell.
    “Well, Hallie, my girl,” Mr. Tilson said as he opened the door and peered out, “how good to see you again.” Under his close-cropped white hair his small, sharp eyes positively glowed with curiosity. “Do come in.”
    “Yes, yes.” His wife, whose name was Annette, was right behind him. “So good to see you. We’ve been wondering about how you’re getting along now that school has started.” Her eyes had the same super-snoopy glow. The Tilsons, who’d been married practically forever, looked a lot alike—small, pale, and furry, like the same kind of little animal. Rabbits, maybe, but with small round ears instead of big floppy ones. Two small, round-eared, nosy rabbits.
    Hallie said hello, and as she quickly handed over the carton, she managed to change the subject from Irvington Middle School to yogurt and whether her mother had remembered to buy the right flavor. She had. It figured; Paula Meredith usually didn’t make that kind of mistake. And then Mrs. Tilson was saying,