Free The Dollhouse Murders by Betty Ren Wright Page A

now,” she protested. “Ellen might not even want a blanket.”
    â€œOf course she’ll want one,” Aunt Clare said. “At least, there should be one in her room if she needs it.”
    â€œBut I’m not sure I can find the chest.”
    â€œIt’s just at the top of the stairs on the left. A big metal box. You can’t miss it.” Aunt Clare gave Amy a look, and Amy knew she was sending a message.
She wants me to know she trusts me to go up there without moving the dolls
.
    There was no way out. She’d have to get the blanket.Amy left the kitchen and went down the dimly lit hall to the stairs.
I won’t even look at the dollhouse corner
, she promised herself.
I’ll grab the top blanket and run
.
    At the attic door, she hesitated. Maybe she could give Ellen her own blanket instead of getting another one. No, Aunt Clare would surely ask questions.
    â€œAmy!” It was Aunt Clare calling from the kitchen. “I forgot to tell you, I think the light is burned out in the attic. Take the big flashlight that’s on the table next to my bed.”
    Oh, great!
Amy’s heart thudded as she switched on a lamp in Aunt Clare’s room and searched for the flashlight.
    She was halfway up the stairs, the flashlight beam bobbing on the steps in front of her, when she heard a small sound.
Mice. Please let it be mice
. A funny thing to wish, considering how much she hated mice. She stood still. The sound stopped, too, for just a moment, then began again. Something was moving around in the darkness above her.
    The trunk on the left at the top of the stairs
. Amy said the words to herself, trying to close out every other thought. When she reached the top step, she saw the big metal chest right where Aunt Clare had said it would be. She leaned over to loosen the fastenings with trembling fingers.
The top blanket
, she told herself.
Quick!
    The rustling, scraping sound grew louder. It was coming from the dollhouse corner. Without really meaning to, Amy swung the flashlight beam across the attic. The sheet that had covered the house was on thefloor in a white heap. The house gaped open.
    Amy’s knees turned to jelly. The flashlight slipped from her fingers. When she tried to bend down and pick it up, she couldn’t move. All she could do was stare at the house, and at the eerie glow that was beginning to fill the dollhouse parlor.
    A light in the dollhouse. Amy squeaked in terror and dropped to a crouch. Her fingers closed on the flashlight, and she clattered down the steps, stumbling on the last one and hurtling into the hall. With a sob she slammed the door behind her and leaned against the wall.
    â€œAmy! What on earth are you doing up there?” It was Aunt Clare again. “Did you find a blanket?”
    â€œEverything’s okay,” Amy quavered. Her voice sounded as if it belonged to someone else. “I dropped the flashlight, but it didn’t break.” She paused, willing her aunt to stay downstairs. “I guess I’ll do my homework now and go to bed. I’m sort of tired.”
    â€œThat’s fine. Pleasant dreams.”
    What a joke that was! As Amy pulled off her clothes and fumbled with the buttons on her shorty pajamas, she was more wide-awake and more frightened than she’d ever been in her life. After a moment’s thought, she pushed the rocking chair across the room and hooked its back under the door so that no one—and nothing—could open it without her knowing. Then she climbed into bed and pulled the sheet over her head.
    I saw a light in the dollhouse
. The words rattled around in her brain. And she’d seen even worse. In thesecond before she ran down the stairs, something had moved in the dollhouse parlor. Something small and standing on two feet.
    Not a mouse
, Amy whimpered under the sheet.
Oh, I wish it had been a mouse!

12
.
“I Came to the Party”
    â€œHappy birthday, dear Amy!” Aunt Clare