They’d dared me to do it, and I was wishing it was dark instead of daylight. In the darkness, someone would be less likely to see me. This way, anyone in town might see me sneaking into the old Murphy mansion set back from the main road. I know. You’re thinking I’d have to be crazy to go in there at night, especially with all the rumors about ghosts.

You haven’t met my mom. If word gets back to her that I did this, I’m going to wish the ghosts had caught me instead. One thing I knew, my mom had spies all over town. I don’t think there’s anything I’ve ever done that didn’t get back to her. I’m pretty sure there’s some things she didn’t tell me she knew about — just in case she ever needed the information sometime. Mom’s are like that. They know how to use information at just the right time to make their point.

I needed to put that fear right out of my head. Sure. Do my best to get to the Murphy mansion without being seen, but if I let that fear rule me, I’d never leave this sheltered spot in the trees. My friends had said the front door was unlocked, but I wasn’t certain if I could trust their information, so I was gathering a little information on my own before making my entry attempt. I did not want to get stranded on that wide veranda for all to see struggling with that heavy front door.

Old Man Murphy had died in that house two years ago. His wife had moved to a nursing home shortly after that. The house was supposed to be for sale, but nobody seemed to be working very hard to sell it — or to give it what I’d heard my mom call “curb appeal.”

I’d left my friends hanging out at the front gate while I worked my way through the woods on the edge of the property to find where I wanted to go in. No windows were broken, so I was going to try doors first. I just didn’t want to try the front door. The yard was overgrown, but the overgrowth wouldn’t hide me. I kept working my way to the back of the property. I thought that might hide my chances of being seen from the street — especially with that beacon to beat all beacons, a gaggle of my friends hanging on the front fence.

Just as I was about to dash across the yard to the back door, a car pulled into the driveway. I dove for the ground and waited, peering through the grass. I hoped I hadn’t been seen. A lady got out of the car and walked to the back door. She unlocked it and went inside. This was my chance, but it was also risky. If I could get inside without her seeing me, I could wait until she left and do what I needed to do.

But first, I had to get across the yard without being seen. If I could get behind the garage, that would make it easier, I thought. I could crawl along the fence line to the back of the garage. About twenty feet. I sure was glad the fence out front was decorative and didn’t go all the way around the property.
Behind the garage, I stood, brushed myself off, and peered around the garage at the back of the house. Now I needed to get from the garage to the door and inside without being seen.

I checked the windows and didn’t see anything. Following the front of the garage, I studied the house as I approached. When I got along side the house, I got up on my tiptoes to look into the window. I couldn’t see anyone in the room just inside the back door, which appeared to open into the kitchen. Where would I go once I got inside? I could see three doors. One looked like it left the room to another part of the house. I’d need to make sure the door was really quiet. I hoped I could do that and be quick enough. One door was open, and it looked like it went into a closet. I’d try to get in there.

I slipped up to the door, carefully turned the knob, pushed, paused, and listened. I could hear someone moving something around in what sounded like the front part of the house. I slipped inside, carefully closing the door behind me and moved as quietly as I could across the room and into the closet room. Once there, I got behind the door and pressed myself against the wall. And waited.
I heard a cell phone ring, and the woman answered. She was walking toward the kitchen, and the closer she got, the more I could hear one side of the conversation, “at the Murphy place getting ready for a showing.”

She stopped outside the pantry door. I dared not to breathe and prayed I wouldn’t be discovered.
“I can’t do anything about the yard on short notice, but I can at least make sure the inside is presentable. Yes. One o’clock this afternoon.”

So far, so good. I sure hoped the realtor would get out of here so I could do what I needed to do and get out before she came back. I heard her heels click away from the pantry door on the kitchen tile. I didn’t dare breathe easily yet. I heard the refrigerator door open and close, the oven door open and close, she ran water in the sink, and finally, she said, “I have to run. I’ll be home for supper. I hope with some good news. Keep your fingers crossed for me. Bye.”

Shortly after she finished the phone call, I heard the door close and lock. I was inside. All I had to do was hang a red hankie in the living room window and get out of here before she came back. I hoped the clock above the kitchen door was right, because if it was, I’d be done in plenty of time. I crept out from behind the door, checked through the window. The realtor’s car was gone. I pulled the red hanky out of my pocket, peered into the living room, and darted across the room. I hooked the corner of the hanky over the window lock, waved at my friends still hanging on the fence, turned around, and gasped.

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