Cave of Creeps: A Grimy Girls Mystery, #1

By Rachael Eliker and Amelia Minder

Summer's not off to a great start, but it's about to get a lot more interesting.

 

Two days into summer break, and Alice, Heather, and Violet have already earned themselves an afternoon cleaning out the garage. Ripping a fan out of the ceiling while bored has its consequences.

What they need to keep out of trouble is something to make summer more exciting.

Something like a family trip to the lake.

Or a mystery to solve.

Or both.

At the cabin, the Gradley sisters stumble into an adventure when their dog, Snatch, follows her nose to a strange paw print in the mud. It might be nothing, but it might also be the missing mountain lion cub their parents have been whispering about.

The mystery draws the girls in, and the deeper they go, the more they realize the people who say they're helping might be the ones who aren't.

 

The Cave of Creeps, is for the eight-year-olds and up (and those still young-at-heart) who enjoy Nancy Drew, The Boxcar Children, and laughing while sitting at the edge of their seats, trying to figure out the mystery.

• Language: English
• Publisher: BHF Creative Works
• Release date: Sep 23, 2022
• ISBN: 9781959007043

Book preview

1

HOW TO BECOME A CIRCUS PERFORMER IN TEN EASY STEPS

Hold still! You have room for another pair. Heather shoved another wad of socks into her little sister’s already bulging sweatshirt. Wrestling the lumps, she stepped back and narrowed her eyes to see if the socks needed to be shifted. You’re gonna need all the padding you can get.

Are we almost done? Violet whined. It might have worked on someone else, but her older sisters had years of practice ignoring her complaints. Tiny beads of perspiration had popped out along Violet’s hairline and she tried to blow a strand of hair off of her forehead, but the sweat glued it in place. You know how much I hate getting sweaty. It makes my pit bulls feel slimy.

Armpits, silly. Heather tickled her sister under her arm to make a point. Pit bulls are a type of dog. You of all people should know that.

Violet made a face and stuck out her tongue. You know what I meant.

Alice, who had been reading in the recliner, shut her book and set it on the end table. She adjusted her glasses on her nose and peered at her younger sisters. Sweating happens when you wear a sweatshirt in summer.

Violet glowered. "I wouldn’t be wearing it if you guys weren’t making me."

You don’t want to get hurt, do you? Heather put her hands on her hips, the same way their mother did whenever the three sisters were in for a lecture, usually for the trouble they’d gotten themselves into. Now, move your head over. I can fit another pair of socks by your neck.

Heather struggled for a moment to get the socks in place until Alice rocked out of the recliner and helped by tugging on the collar of Violet’s sweatshirt. With a grunt, Heather popped the socks in.

Violet pushed her lower lip into a pout so pronounced it cast its own shadow. Heather should be the one getting packed full of socks. She likes doing this kind of stuff.

True. Heather clasped her hands and grinned. I’m obviously the most fearless, but for this test to work, we need to have the smallest do it first in case we need to break your fall. That’s on you. Teensy, tiny Violet.

"I’m not teensy! Violet huffed and stomped her foot, her face growing redder than a fire engine. I’m almost as tall as you!"

You’re barely up to here, Heather said, holding her hand up and measuring it against her shoulder, which means you’re the smallest. The smallest is always the guinea pig. That used to be me until you came along. Now it’s on you.

It’s not fair, Violet complained.

Heather shrugged. It’s just a fact of life that you’re the itty-bittiest of us all.

Stop calling me small! Violet shrieked so shrilly that Heather and Alice winced and covered their ears.

Alice shot a glare at Heather, a warning to her that their entire plan would be derailed if their mother heard Violet and walked in. What she means, Alice said, putting her hands on Violet’s shoulders, turning her sister to face her, "is that you’re the bravest. That’s why we’re letting you do it first."

Violet’s eyebrows knit together while she thought, then her whole face lit up. If I do it, you’re going to have to give me your dessert the next time we have some.

Whoa. Heather held up her hands. I never agreed to that.

A slow smile crept up Violet’s mouth. "Both of you."

Undeterred by her sister, Alice folded her arms. One bite.

Two, Violet countered.

Pursing her lips into a thin line while she thought, Alice eventually nodded. Deal.

Violet squealed and shook her fists, dancing around the stack of chairs they’d brought into the family room. I’m gonna be Queen of the Chairs!

"Princess of the Chairs. Dad already said Mom’s the Queen of everything, remember?" Alice answered.

Ha! Violet laughed. I’d like to see Mom get on top.

Heather smirked. I’d like to hear you challenge her to her face. I bet she’d beat you. You know she can’t turn down a challenge.

First, we need to see how sturdy our tower is. Alice patted the chairs. Go on, then. Let’s see if you can monkey your way on up.

Violet swallowed a lump in her throat as she approached a wobbly pyramid of eight dining room chairs. The girls had built their tower of chairs in the middle of the family room, where the slanted ceiling peaked to its highest point. Assembling the chairs had been an engineering feat on its own, and once they were done, they had given each other high fives, mostly because they’d avoided a few near-disasters where the chairs almost tumbled. They would have had a hard time getting their mother to listen to their plan if they smashed a table lamp before they’d even started.

Heather clapped, encouraging Violet. Remember, we don’t get in trouble if we don’t break anything.

Usually, Alice corrected, hiding her comment behind a pretended cough.

Timidly, Violet glanced at her older sisters, who gave her an encouraging nod and a thumbs up. With a deep breath, she started to climb. Stepping on the seat of each chair, Violet took her time, carefully grabbing the rungs of the chairs and hoisting herself higher. She made it up to the third row before the chairs creaked and teetered.

Easy does it, Alice coaxed, holding the bottom chairs to stabilize them while Heather stared open-mouthed.

A scared squeak eked out of Violet as the chairs shifted. "Am I falling? I’m falling. I am going to fall, aren’t I?"

That’s what the socks are for. They’ll keep it from hurting. Heather scrunched her nose. You probably won’t even feel a thing.

C’mon! Alice cheered. You’re almost to the top!

Violet pinched her eyes shut until the chair stopped bobbing back and forth, then quickly scrambled the rest of the way to the top while her sisters jumped excitedly. Once Violet’s feet were on the seat of the top chair, she cautiously put up her arms, welcoming Alice and Heather’s wild applause.

Violet shouted triumphantly, Tada!

What on earth?

Alice and Heather spun around to see their mother staring at them, her jaw dropped in disbelief.

It’s Mom, isn’t it? Violet spoke in a loud whisper, holding as still as a hunting cat so she didn’t rock the chair tower. She’s mad, I bet. I can tell because her voice doesn’t sound happy.

Mom balled her hands into fists and planted them on her hips.

Red alert. Her hands are on her hips, Heather said out of the side of her mouth. We’re done for.

All three sisters gulped.

Oh. Violet craned her neck around and twiddled her fingers innocently as she waved. Hello, Mother.

Violet’s tiny movement made the tower of chairs sway. She tried to steady herself but the more she flapped her arms in frantic chicken wing motions, trying to keep her balance, the more the chairs wobbled. Realizing the chairs were falling, and she was going with them, she let out a little yelp. Grabbing the only thing she could, Violet reached for the overhead light and clung to it for dear life.

The chairs toppled down with a spectacular crash, leaving Violet dangling from the light. Her face went sheet white and all the breath in her lungs was locked in place so she couldn’t even let out a scream of terror when the light started ripping out of the ceiling, dropping bits of drywall and dust onto the carpet.

Well, great. Throwing her hands in the air, Heather slapped them against her legs. All that hard work and it was undone in two seconds.

This is what you’ve been up to for the past hour? Mom asked. I thought you three were outside riding bikes.

I don’t want to alarm anyone, Violet squeaked, but I’m slipping!

Mom rushed forward, hurdling over one of the downed chairs, her arms out like she was waiting for a perfectly thrown football to land in her hands. Right as Violet’s sweaty fingers lost their grip, she fell into her mother’s waiting arms. The weight of Violet brought Mom down to her knees, and the two of them tumbled across the carpet and collided with a thud against the corner of the couch.

Violet scrambled out of her mother’s arms and onto her feet, pointing back and forth between Alice and Heather. "This was my all sisters’ idea. I had nothing to do with it. You know I’m innocent. The youngest one is always innocent."

Liar! Alice cried.

Heather glared at Violet and jabbed her finger back. You were in on it, too! I think you were the one who was curtseying at the top, weren’t you, Princess of the Chairs?

The three girls descended into a heated quarrel until their mother hushed them. Slowly picking herself up off the ground and raising herself to her full height, Mom tugged the hem of her shirt as she inhaled a calming breath. Oh, I know how this all goes. Violet is the guinea pig—

Violet scoffed in offense. "I’m not the guinea pig. I do these things because I’m the bravest!"

Rolling her eyes, their mom ignored Violet’s denial. Then Heather gets everyone excited about doing whatever daredevil stunt she’s dreamed up, and Alice figures out how to make it happen. Isn’t that right?

Alice locked eyes with her mom, afraid that blinking might bring out a confession. Hypnotized by her sternness, Mom leaned in so closely, waiting for Alice to say something, that Alice could see the narrow ring of green in her mother’s otherwise blue eyes. Alice shared the same sandy blond hair with her mom, down to the texture that looked like bagged ramen after it’d been cooked. Mostly, Alice looked like her dad, with walnut brown eyes, tan skin, and long, skinny legs that were good for running.

When their mom raised one eyebrow, Alice’s confession slipped out. I prefer to think of myself as the mastermind.

Their mother threw her hands in the air and released an exasperated sigh. I suppose you got your inspiration from your last trip to the library? Spotting an open book on the table, she sauntered over and picked it up. Frowning, she read the title aloud. "How to Become a Circus Performer in Ten Easy Steps by Bobo the Clown. These are the kinds of books you pick up when I’m not supervising your selections, huh?"

Alice’s mouth felt strangely full of cotton. It was in the non-fiction section.

Violet beamed, hoping her smile was cute enough to sidetrack their mother. It comes with over a hundred different ideas for at-home circus acts.

Is that so? Mom asked as she flipped through the pages. Which one is it that has children climbing wobbly stacks of dining chairs so they can hang on light fixtures?

Page forty-eight, Heather said.

Really? Mom’s eyebrows went even higher, almost disappearing into her hairline.

Alice shrunk down her neck. We may have embellished the book’s idea a bit, though.

Mom dropped her head and pinched the bridge of her nose. This book will need to be returned early. I don’t think you girls need any help figuring out how to do ridiculous things.

"It’s just that summer is so boring, moaned Heather. There’s nothing to do."

Mom laughed hard, her shoulders shaking and tears leaking from the corner of her eyes. Using her shirt to dry her cheeks, she said, "Honey, you’ve only been on summer break for two days. Two days. You won’t die of boredom."

I’m pretty sure I am, Heather said, throwing herself onto the couch and crossing her arms.

Well, guess what? Mom perched on the edge of the couch and surveyed the disaster in the family room. I have a solution for your boredom.

Ice cream? Violet asked, bouncing up and down on her toes. I want chocolate with cookie dough, M&M’s, whipped cream, but no cherry. The cherry is a gross wad of mushy fruit.

Nope, Mom shook her head, not ice cream.

Are you taking us to the pool? Heather said. Finally! It’s like a million degrees outside.

Mom’s smirk was smug. Not quite.

I don’t like where this is going, Alice said.

What is it, then? Heather asked. I’m going to die of boredom right here if you don’t spit it out, Mom.

Mom’s grin split even wider until it was full-toothed and mischievous. Cleaning.

2

KEEPING MY GUTS TO MYSELF

You’ve all earned an afternoon of cleaning out the garage, Mom said, draping her arms along the back of the couch.

What? Heather cried. How’s that fair?

Mom didn’t look up as she pointed to where the light fixture was still swaying gently, barely hanging in the ceiling by the wire. Fair? The way I see it, you’re all responsible for breaking my house, so there has to be a consequence. That’s how you make things right.

Why can’t we just pay for it out of our piggy banks? Heather tightened her crossed arms around herself.

Because, Mom said, if I recall, you’re all still broke from the time you tried to get the dog into the treehouse. Remember my shattered bedroom window? I sure do.

Oh. Heather went limp. Right.

Alice pushed her glasses up her nose. In our defense, we weren’t planning on the toolbox coming untied from the rope.

But it did. I was vacuuming up glass in my bedroom for hours. Mom glanced up at the ceiling fan and frowned. I’m glad none of you have been seriously injured—

Yeah. Violet puffed her chest proudly. We never get hurt when we do dumb stuff. That’s how good we are.

"—yet, but Dad and I are having a hard time keeping up with all the repairs caused by the three of you. You’re a whirlwind of destruction and the house always seems to be directly in your path."

At least we were getting along. Doesn’t that count for something? Alice asked.

Yes, thank you for not fighting while you demolish the house with your antics, Mom scoffed playfully. Now get marching. Out to the garage. I want it done before dinner.

That’s so un-fun, Heather muttered.

That’s kind of the idea. Mom stood up and clapped sharply. Don’t worry, though. I’ll be helping by supervising from the shade, sipping on a smoothie while making sure you don’t do something else you shouldn’t. I have a cozy mystery novel that’s calling my name, too.

Wiping her sleeve across her forehead, Violet complained, Can I at least take off this sweatshirt? I’m positively ooey-gooey.

Please do. Heather waved her hand under her nose. You smell like Dad after he’s mowed the lawn.

Heather, Mom chided, "don’t be rude