Free Dunc and the Haunted Castle by Gary Paulsen Page A

flying shoes. He built some kind of device into his shoes that lifts him off the ground when he walks. It still has a few bugs, though. When his feet come up, his face comes down. Usually into the pavement.”
    “Sounds like our buddy T.J.,” Dunc said.

“Look for a tall African-American man and a kid wearing a trench coat,” Amos said.
    “I’m looking.” Dunc carefully observed each person in the steady stream of people walking back and forth in the crowded Scottish airport. “I don’t see them.”
    “They should be here. T.J. said he and his dad would pick us up.”
    “They probably had a flat tire or something.” Dunc stopped. “You did send the telegram telling them which plane we were on and what time it landed, didn’t you?”
    Amos looked offended. “Give me a little credit here.”
    “Okay. It’s just that sometimes, in thepast, you have been known to screw things up.”
    “Well, not this time. I distinctly remember putting the message in my pocket and riding my bike downtown, and—” Amos hesitated.
    “What?”
    “I just thought of something. On my way to send the message I ran into Dennis Therman. You remember Dennis? The kids at school used to call him Lizard Lips.”
    “I remember him. What does he have to do with the telegram?”
    “Dennis said he was only going to be in town for a few days. So we decided to go to the arcade for a while.”
    “You didn’t send it.”
    “Well, actually, I—”
    “You didn’t send it.”
    Amos shook his head.
    Dunc sat on his suitcase. “Here we are in the largest airport in Scotland. It’s nearly dark. We don’t know a soul, and we’re not being met by anyone. Tell me you at least have T.J.’s phone number.”
    Amos chewed on a fingernail and looked at the ceiling.
    Dunc closed his eyes. “Never mind. You don’t have to tell me.”
    “They’re over here, Dad!” T.J. ran up to them out of breath. “We were afraid we missed you guys.”
    “T.J.” Amos grinned. “Am I glad to see you.”
    Dunc knew better than to try to shake T.J.’s hand. The last time he tried it, an alarm in T.J.’s trench coat had gone off and red lights started flashing. “That goes double for me, T.J. But how did you know we were here?”
    “There’s this creepy old lady who keeps house for us. She reads the future in tea leaves, and she told us we’d be having visitors today.”
    T.J.’s dad walked up. “But that’s not how we knew you’d be here. Amos’s mother found a message in his shirt pocket. She thought she’d better double-check and make sure we knew when you were coming. She called us last night.”
    “But there really is this witch”—T.J.’s dad threw him a look—“I mean, this lady, who reads tea leaves and does all kinds of spooky things. Wait till you meet her.”

T.J.’s dad put the suitcases in the back of the rented station wagon. “As soon as I get a chance, I’m going to trade this wagon in for a four-wheel drive. The road leading up to the castle is a little rough.”
    “The realtor, Mr. Macbeth, told us that’s the reason we got the castle so cheap,” T.J. said. “Normally castles, even small ones like ours, aren’t for rent, and when they are, nobody can afford them.”
    Amos hit his head on the roof of the car. He jerked his seat belt tighter. “How much farther?”
    “We’re almost there.” T.J. pointed out thewindow. “Dunbar Castle is just on the other side of that hill.”
    “Is that the owner’s name?” Dunc asked.
    T.J. shrugged. “We’ve never met the owner. Mr. Macbeth said the owner is a recluse and wants to remain anonymous. Dad sends the rent checks to the realtor.”
    Dunc rubbed his chin. “That’s strange. I wonder why.…”
    “Don’t look a gift castle in the mouth,” Amos said. “Especially one with servants.”
    Mr. Tyler glanced back at Amos. “There are only two people who work full time at the castle. Mrs. Knox and Mr. Smith. Sometimes Mrs. Knox’s son Jimmy works part time. The