THE WHISPERING
BELLTOWERBack to Judy Bolton Information Page
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Excerpt from:
THE WHISPERING
BELLTOWER
A Judy Bolton Mystery by Kate Emburg
"I don't hear anything," Judy began. But just then, faintly and far away, came the sound of a bell. It was not the deep bong of a Gothic churchbell, as one might expect from an eerie stone tower, but a shriller, more modern sound. It took Judy a moment to identify it as a ringing telephone. The sound was so muffled that it resembled a telephone bell only as much as a soft whisper resembled a loud shout. Judy listened, but the sound was not repeated. A moment later she could not say for sure whether it had been a bell, or the singing of the wind through the pine trees.
"There was no bell," said P.J. scornfully.
"Yes there was," insisted Pam.
"Wasn't!"
"Was!"
"Wasn't!"
"Yes there was! You heard it, didn't you, Mommy?" asked Pam, almost tearfully.
"I'm not sure," Judy replied. "How many times did you hear the phone ring, Sugar?"
"See! Mommy knew it was a phone. I told you it was real," Pam told her twin triumphantly. "It just rang twice, Mommy. Once I heard it, and then we both did."
Judy gazed up at the windowless tower. Not a glimmer of light showed between the massive stones, and not a sound came from that direction now that the phone had stopped ringing. There did not even appear to be a door, or any way inside the tower. Yet someone must be in there, Judy thought. There was no other building that might house a telephone. And whoever lived in the tower was definitely at home and awake, because they had answered the phone. Few callers, she reasoned, would give up after letting the phone ring only twice.
"Peter!" she called. "I think we'd better try the tower after all. Even if they don't give us a warm welcome, at least they've got a phone we can use. Pam and I heard it ringing."
Peter stared up at the tower. "That's a strange place for a phone. I didn't hear it --"
"Neither did I," broke in P.J.
"It was a weird sound," said Judy. "It sounded like the telephone was whispering."
Peter grinned. "Well, now you've got me interested. Not only a ghostly tower, but a ghostly phone. Maybe it's the ghost of a phone that's been disconnected for years, ever since it brought bad news to its owner."
"Phones don't bring bad news. People do," said Judy practically. "Anyway, I think we ought to go up there. I don't see any other buildings along this road, and the kids are getting tired."
"No we're not!" the twins chorused. But Penny was fast asleep, her tousled curls resting on Peter's shoulder. Judy's watch read nine o'clock. Not terribly late under normal circumstances, but they'd been driving since early morning. She knew Peter must be exhausted, although he wouldn't say so.
As they neared the tower, Judy realized that their problems were just beginning. The massive base was constructed entirely of enormous stone blocks. Judy shone her flashlight beam up and down the worn surface, but there was no door to be seen.
"There must be a secret panel," said Peter, half-teasingly. "Any girl who could find her way inside a haunted fountain shouldn't have any trouble with a crumbling pile of stone."
In the 1980's Margaret Sutton
encouraged her friend Kate Emburg (president of the Society of
Phantom Friends, an international organization of series book
collectors) to try her hand at writing a "a real Judy."
The result? The Whispering Belltower, and
yes, it is a real Judy, on a visit to South Carolina with husband
Peter, their twins, P.J. and Pam, and Penny, "the image of
Judy herself at three years of age."
Reading it brought me back to the days when I'd buy two Judy mysteries every Saturday and read them straight through into the night (under the covers with a flashlight if my parents were being fractious). I'd finish by Monday or Tuesday and have the rest of the week to yearn for more.
I started "Belltower" on Saturday afternoon, and I could not put it down. There's a small turkey gravy stain on page 15, from reading while I cooked up the Thanksgiving leftovers. I took it to my son's basketball game (and got a few glares from the coach for rustling during the free throws), finally finishing it at home while my husband and son re-played the game. When I closed the cover on the last page, I sighed (a very 11-year-old sigh), because I felt that same yearning for more, realizing that next Saturday I'd have to content myself with something new from Abigail Padgett or Patricia Cornwell.
Thank you, Kate.
The Whispering Belltower is available from The Book Sleuth, for $10.00. (Please add $2.00 for book rate mail, or $3.00 for priority mail.)