Misty Gordon and the Mystery of the Ghost Pirates , livre ebook

ABRAMS BOOKS - Kennedy Kim

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106 pages

English

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Here is a funny middle-grade mystery from a bright new fiction talent. Things in the New England town of Ashcrumb are getting weird. Or just weirder. Misty Gordon, whose antique-dealing parents drive a van that says D.E.A.D. on the side (for Deceaseds Estate and Antique Dealer), is accustomed to weird. One day, when accompanying her father to the estate of a recently departed clairvoyant, Misty discovers a notebook and a pair of eyeglasses that enable her to see ghosts! And solve mysteries. With the help of her new powers and her best friend, Yoshi, Misty learns that her hometown was settled not by respectable colonists but by pirates! And the ghosts of the pirates are returning to reclaim a dangerous, powerful treasure they lost centuries ago. Who will find it first, Misty or the pirates?

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Publié par	ABRAMS BOOKS
Date de parution	31 décembre 2010
Nombre de lectures	1
EAN13	9781613120095
Langue	English
Poids de l'ouvrage	2 Mo

Informations légales : prix de location à la page 0,0664€. Cette information est donnée uniquement à titre indicatif conformément à la législation en vigueur.

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In this quirky, humorous novel, things in the town of Ashcrumb are becoming weird. Or just WEIRDER.

-whose antiques-dealing parents drive a van that says D.E.A.D. on the side (for Deceased s Estate and Antiques Dealer )-is used to living in a strange town. But one day, when accompanying her father to the estate of a recently departed clairvoyant, Misty discovers a notebook and a pair of eyeglasses that enable her to see ghosts! And solve mysteries.
With the help of her new powers and her best friend, Yoshi, Misty learns that her hometown-a small village in New England-was settled not by respectable colonists but by pirates! And the ghosts of the pirates are returning to reclaim a dangerous, powerful treasure they lost centuries ago. Who will find it first, Misty or the pirates?

PUBLISHER S NOTE: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data: Kennedy, Kim. Misty Gordon / by Kim Kennedy. p. cm. Summary: While assisting her father, an estate and antiques dealer, teenaged Misty discovers a journal and pair of glasses that allow her to see ghosts, including those of pirates who founded her New England town and who are seeking a golden statue with mystical powers. ISBN 978-0-8109-9357-0 [1. Ghosts-Fiction. 2. Pirates-Fiction. 3. Eyeglasses-Fiction. 4. Antiques-Fiction. 5. Family life-New England-Fiction. 6. New England-Fiction. 7. Mystery and detective stories.] I. Title.
PZ7.K3843Mis 2010 [Fic]-dc22 2009011248
Text copyright 2010 Kim Kennedy Illustrations copyright 2010 Greg Call Book design by Melissa Arnst
Published in 2010 by Amulet Books, an imprint of ABRAMS. All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, mechanical, electronic, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without written permission from the publisher. Amulet Books and Amulet Paperbacks are registered trademarks of Harry N. Abrams, Inc.
Printed and bound in U.S.A. 10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1
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To my brother Glenn Kennedy
1 Fannie Belcher s Things
2 The Ashcrumb Castle
3 May Nays
4 The Riddle
5 The Dearly Departed
6 The Halloween Dare
7 The Crystal Ball
8 The Dark History Lesson
9 The Very~Long~Distance Phone Call
10 The Hypno~Clock
11 The Solitary Gong
12 The Field Trip
13 All Is Revealed
14 The Lighting Ceremony
15 Unexpected Guests
16 The Beach
MISTY GORDON
and the Mystery of the Ghost Pirates
M r. and Mrs. Gordon liked it when people died. Not that they were bizarre or unfeeling, it s just that the Gordons business depended on death. You see, they owned the Dearly Departed Antiques Store, a shop filled with the musty old furniture of the recently deceased.
Perhaps it was a bit gloomy and creepy, the way the Gordons made their living, but they didn t mind. Rather, they fancied themselves the best in the business. And the fastest. As soon as someone bit the dust, the Gordons would purchase his or her stuff. Their motto? We buy the bucket as soon as you kick it.
In fact, to learn of a death in the historic little sea town of Ashcrumb, one only had to spy the Gordons company truck traveling down the street. Faded green, with D.E.A.D. painted on its side, the former ice-cream truck-which still played its music-was quite the town spectacle. Curious kids on bikes would follow the truck, all the while guessing where it might stop. Who died? they would wonder. Was it Mr. Fulton, the cat-hater? Or was it Hazel Monger, the freaky hermit?
One Saturday morning in October, blaring its warped tunes, the truck attracted its largest group ever. Twenty kids trailed behind it, pedaling down shady streets, through sleepy neighborhoods, and past ancient cemeteries. Finally, the truck came to a sputtering stop in front of a weathered mansion.
The huge place had been the home of Fannie Belcher, the richest old lady in Ashcrumb. And lucky Mr. Gordon was the first in line to pick over her belongings. He could barely contain his excitement as he hopped out of his truck.
He nodded at the group of sweaty, panting kids, all of them waiting to see who would answer the late Fannie Belcher s door. Maybe, they hoped, it would be the ghost of Fannie Belcher herself.
Hurry up and ring the doorbell! yelled Hector Figg, a freckle-faced boy. He swayed impatiently atop his banana seat. We don t have all day!
Shhh, said Mr. Gordon, smoothing his shirt over his round belly. Hector, you kids go on home. This isn t a sideshow. Have a little respect.
Mr. Gordon grabbed the mammoth door knocker. After a few clanks, the door creaked open, revealing a long-faced man in a black uniform.
Yes? wheezed the butler, glaring at Mr. Gordon. Who are you?
I m your DEAD! said Mr. Gordon brightly.
The butler danced backward, a look of horror on his face. Dead?
That s right, said Mr. Gordon, sticking his foot inside the doorway. It stands for Deceased s Estate and Antiques Dealer. I m Frank Gordon. I m here to purchase Ms. Belcher s things.
Oh, of course, said the butler. Come in.
Mr. Gordon bolted inside and slammed the door.
The kids rushed to the windows and peered through the broken shutters. They snickered, watching Mr. Gordon s bulky figure lurch about the dreary place, picking up chairs, examining sofas, and rummaging through drawers.
He looks like a big rat, said Hector.
Yeah, added another kid, smacking gum. A rat that just found the biggest hunk of cheese in the world.
That evening, his truck crammed with Fannie Belcher s stuff, Mr. Gordon squeezed himself behind the steering wheel and began his drive home. He had really scored this time! He couldn t wait to see the look on his wife s face when she saw what he d bought.
Humming along to the ice-cream truck s music, Mr. Gordon turned onto cobblestoned Anchor Street. He smiled broadly as he pulled in front of his little white house nestled among crimson maple trees.
I m back! he announced, bounding into his house, where Mrs. Gordon sat, painting her toenails.
Mr. Gordon held up a lumpy sack. Guess what I ve got in here.
What? squealed Mrs. Gordon. Is it something from rich old Fannie Belcher s house?
Right you are, bellowed Mr. Gordon, pulling out what looked like a dead animal. He tossed it to his wife.
A mink coat! she gasped, putting it on.
Belcher never went anywhere without it! said Mr. Gordon.
And I can see why! said Mrs. Gordon, elated. Oh, what luxury! she purred, modeling the coat. Such marvelous cuffs and deep pockets!
Around the couch she twirled in the coat, dropping nasty tufts of fur on the floor.
Shielding his face from the flying fur was James, the Gordons eight-year-old son.
Gross, James gagged. That thing is shedding.
Expensive furs are like that, coughed Mr. Gordon. They have to get used to their new owners.
That s right, agreed Mrs. Gordon, burying her plump face in the musky mink.
James, said Mr. Gordon, digging around in the bag, I ve got something for you, too!
He handed James a real stuffed squirrel.
Cool! said James, staring in amazement at the rodent. Its face was frozen in a strange smile, its two yellow teeth sticking out from crinkled whiskers.
While James stroked his petrified friend and Mrs. Gordon tripped about in her molting coat, Mr. Gordon began feeling around in his bag again.
Observing all of this in total shock and embarrassment was Misty Gordon. She sat dumbfounded on the couch, sinking lower and lower into its cushions. She couldn t help thinking how much her dad looked like a scatterbrained Santa Claus, handing out gifts from a sack he d lost one hundred years ago and just found again.
Misty had watched this same drama unfold over and over throughout her entire life, but still, even after eleven years, she d never grown accustomed to it. Wondering what her dad might pull out of that bag always filled her with dread.
Last but not least, said Mr. Gordon, pausing dramatically with his hand in the bag. I ve got something for Misty!
Misty cringed.
You know how you ve been begging for your own phone? he said. Well, feast your eyes on this!
With that, he pulled out a heavy, black phone from the 1940s and handed it to Misty.
Your very first phone, said Mr. Gordon, beaming. And with a little luck, maybe I can get the thing to work.
Great, moaned Misty, looking at the phone s frayed cord. So I got a dead lady s broken phone.
What a dud! chuckled James. But they can t all be winners. Isn t that right, Dad?
Misty grabbed the phone, shoved James out of the way, and went upstairs to her room, shutting her door. She looked around and sighed. Everything she had was antique. Her rickety four-poster bed leaned in the corner with a faded patchwork quilt atop it and Misty s book satchel-an old leather mailbag-hanging from one of its posts. Yellowed lace curtains fluttered in the open window, under which her desk stood, looking like something George Washington might have used. As a boy.
Another item for the Misty Museum, she said sarcastically, setting the phone on her desk. Too bad the phone didn t work. She would have called her best friend, Yoshiko, and told her all about the latest craziness in the Gordon household. After all, if there was anybody who understood craziness, it was Yoshi, as everyone called her. Her dad was Dr. Yamamoto, the famous psychiatrist who ran Ashcrumb s insane asylum.
A chill wind passed through the room,