“My mom and I were walking Princess in the park this morning,” Madison went on. “That’s when I saw him . . . her . . . it.”

  “Madison has proof!” her friend Haley piped up.

  Frank raised his eyebrows. “Proof?”

  “Yeah.” Madison scanned the crowd. “Um, who has my phone?” she called out.

  “Here!” An older girl walked over to Madison and handed the phone to her. Joe didn’t recognize the girl.

  Madison held up her phone for Frank and Joe to see. Joe squinted at the fuzzy photo on the screen. Had Madison been showing it to everyone?

  Joe studied the image carefully. Okay, so the person—or thing?—in the photo did look like a zombie. The creature had a purplish-yellow face and shoulder-length gray hair that stuck out sloppily from under a white baseball hat. It wore a beige raincoat, green sweatpants, and red-and-black sneakers.

  “Where did you take this?” Frank asked Madison curiously.

  “On the other side of the park, in West Meadow, near the mayor statue,” Madison replied.

  The mayor statue? Joe wondered. Oh, yeah. Madison was talking about the statue of Cleavon Finch, former mayor of Bayport.

  “Did your mom see the zombie too?” Joe asked Madison.

  Madison shook her head. “She was talking to her friend Mrs. Hillman on the phone about some dumb bake sale. I tried to get her attention. But the zombie got away.”

  Just then Melissa marched up to Madison. “Let me see that picture,” she demanded.

  “Excuse me?” Madison snapped.

  Melissa grabbed the phone from Madison and stared hard at the photo. Her mouth twitched for a second before settling into a smirk. “This is not a zombie,” she said loudly. “I think it’s that guy who works at the library. His name is Ray or Rafe.”

  “That is totally not that guy,” Joe said.

  “Yeah, it is! Todd, isn’t that Ray or Rafe or whatever?” Melissa asked her brother.

  Todd peered at the picture and frowned. “I don’t think it’s—”

  “See? Todd agrees with me,” Melissa cut in quickly.

  Madison grabbed her phone back from Melissa. “Well, I think it was a real zombie,” she insisted. “It moved in that slow, creepy way. And it made these creepy moaning noises, too.”

  “Yeah, right,” Melissa said, rolling her eyes.

  “Go ahead and make fun of me. But if someone doesn’t solve this mystery soon, we could all be in terrible danger!” Madison cried out.

  • • •

  “Did you see the, uh, zombie on this path, or that path?” Frank asked Madison.

  Madison hesitated in front of Mayor Cleavon Finch’s statue. Just past it the path forked off into a V. Each path went off into the woods.

  “Hmm. I don’t remember,” Madison said after a moment. “It all happened so fast!”

  Frank, Madison, Joe, and Chet had gotten permission from their parents to check out Madison’s “zombie sighting.” Mrs. Hardy had driven the four kids over to West Meadow and was parked nearby, waiting for them. Normally she would have let Frank and Joe walk over on their own. But when Joe had mentioned the word “zombie,” she had insisted on driving. She had added hastily that there was no such thing as zombies.

  “Footprints!” Chet said suddenly. “Zombie footprints, I mean. Look!”

  He pointed to the path that went off to the left. There were unusual marks in the dirt. Chet was an expert on tracking. Or rather, tracking was one of his many hobbies.

  Frank and Joe went over to inspect the marks. Chet was right. They were footprints. Strange footprints.

  An imprint of a shoe—a left shoe—was followed by a long, smudgy line, as though someone had dragged his or her right shoe.

  Then the pattern repeated again. And again. The prints trailed into the woods and disappeared in a grove of ferns and moss.

  Joe glanced around uneasily. Two teenagers walked along, holding hands. A dad strolled by with a sleeping baby. Everything seemed so normal—a typical morning in Bayport Park.

  Except for the zombie footprints. If they were zombie footprints.

  Joe bent down to look more closely at them. Just then he noticed something small and shiny wedged in the dirt.

  He picked it up and turned it over in his hand.

  “What is it, Joe?” Frank asked.

  “It’s a clue,” Joe said slowly. “I think our zombie may have dropped this!”

  5

  The Six Ws

  A clue?” Frank said excitedly.

  He, Madison, and Chet gathered around Joe. Joe held up the small, shiny object.

  Frank peered closely at it. It was a key chain with a round silver medallion attached to it. On the silver medallion was an image of a zombie and the words:

  ZOMBEE KLUB

  Frank frowned. There was something familiar about the key chain.

  “Yeah, so I guess our zombie belongs to a club, and they don’t know how to spell,” Joe joked.

  “Guys, this isn’t funny! It was a real zombie, I swear!” Madison insisted.

  “Iola’s friend thought she saw a real zombie once. But it turned out to be her uncle Henry. He hadn’t shaved in, like, three days,” Chet piped up.

  While Madison and Chet argued about the existence of zombies, Frank pulled Joe aside and pointed to the key chain. “Do you recognize it?” he whispered.

  “No. But I feel like we’ve seen it before,” Joe replied.

  Frank squeezed his eyes shut, trying to remember. “It was hanging from someone’s pocket or something,” he murmured.

  “Tico!” Joe burst out. “That day we were playing zombies in our backyard. There was a silver zombie key chain on his belt loop!”

  Frank opened his eyes. “Oh, yeah. That’s right!”

  “So Tico was here,” Joe concluded.

  “Pretending to be a zombie,” Frank added.

  • • •

  “I was not in the park this morning pretending to be a zombie!” Tico said hotly.

  It was late afternoon on Tuesday. Frank and Joe had walked over to Tico’s house to ask him about the Zombee Klub key chain. They had found Tico on his porch, reading comic books.

  Before Tico could even say hi, Joe had accused him of being Madison’s “zombie.” That strategy hadn’t worked out so well.

  Frank pointed to one of Tico’s comic books. “Hey, is that the special anniversary edition of ‘Zombie Kingdom’?” he said in a friendly voice.

  “Yeah.” Tico’s eyes lit up. “I stood in line at the comic book store on the day it came out, to make sure I got a copy.”

  Tico is definitely obsessed with zombies, Frank thought. “Look. It’s no big deal if you walked around the park dressed up like a zombie,” he said lightly.

  “Yeah. Frank showed up to school dressed up like a green space alien once,” Joe piped up.

  Frank was about to object; he had never showed up to school dressed up like a green space alien! Then he realized Joe was trying to get Tico to confess. Frank kept his mouth shut.

  Unfortunately, Tico kept his mouth shut too. He wasn’t talking.

  Frank reached into his pocket and pulled out the silver key chain. “This is yours, right?”

  Tico startled. “Hey, where’d you find that? I thought I lost it!”

  “We found it in the park. It was on the path, right by those fake zombie footprints you made,” Joe replied.

  Tico was silent. He took the key chain from Frank and rubbed some dirt off it with his thumb. “Look. I did go over there today,” he said after a moment. “But I wasn’t Madison’s zombie!”

  “Oh, yeah? What were you doing there, then?” Joe demanded.

  “I was one of the first people at the Zombie Mania shoot this morning,” Tico explained. “Madison showed up right after me, with a couple of her super-annoying friends. She told everyone about seeing a zombie in West Meadow. I was curious, so I snuck away to check it out myself.”

  “Did you see anything when you were there? Or anyone?” Frank asked him.

  Tico shook his head. “Just those footprints. I guess I dropped my key chain while I was poking around.”

  “Or else you dropped your key chain while you were pretending to be a zombie,” Joe said.

  “I told you, that wasn’t me!” Tico protested.

  Frank stared at Tico and tried to read his expression.

  Was Tico telling the truth? Or was he lying?

  • • •

  After dinner Frank and Joe headed over to their top secret tree house with a couple of cherry Popsicles. The tree house was hidden halfway up a very tall old maple in the woods bordering the Hardys’ backyard. The only way to get up to it was by a ladder attached to a rope and pulley.

  The boys pulled down the ladder and climbed up. The inside of the tree house was one big room furnished with a couple of beanbag chairs on the wooden floor. Posters of martial arts and monster movies covered one wall, and a dry-erase whiteboard hung on another.

  Joe plopped down on a cushion and ate his Popsicle, which had started to melt in the summer heat. Frank thought that his brother kind of looked like a zombie himself, with red dripping from his mouth.

  “Okay, so let’s catch this zombie,” Joe said eagerly. “You’re going to list the six Ws, right?”

  “Right.” Frank walked up to the whiteboard and picked up a marker. The six Ws was a system he and Joe had developed while watching their father solve his own mysteries. They’d been using the system for a while now. It was technically five Ws and one H, but it was a lot easier to call it the six Ws.

  Frank wrote:

  Who: Tico

  What: He pretended to be a zombie.

  When: Tuesday morning

  Where: Bayport Park, West Meadow, near the mayor statue

  Why: ???

  How: He put on zombie clothes and makeup and left zombie footprints in the dirt.

  Frank wasn’t sure what to fill in for the Why. “Okay, so . . . why would Tico pretend to be a zombie, then lie about it?” he said out loud.

  “If he was lying. He might have been telling the truth,” Joe pointed out.

  “Yeah.” Frank thought about it for a moment, then wrote: Zombie obsession??? after the Why.

  Just then they heard someone coming up the ladder. Very few people even knew about the tree house. Frank wondered who it could be.

  After a second, Chet’s head popped up through the opening in the floor.

  “Hey, Chet,” Frank said, surprised. “What are you doing here?”

  “I had to tell you guys right away,” Chet said breathlessly. “You know Madison’s picture? Of that zombie?”

  “Yeah?” Joe said.

  “It’s all over the news!” Chet announced.

  6

  Monstersightings.com

  Inside the Hardys’ house Joe, Frank, and Chet gathered around the family computer. Aunt Gertrude brought them a plate of freshly baked chocolate chip cookies and glasses of cold milk, then settled down on the couch to read a magazine.

  Score! Joe thought, grabbing a cookie. Obviously Aunt Gertrude didn’t know about the Popsicles the boys had eaten earlier. She wasn’t big on multiple desserts after dinner.

  “Okay. So do a search for ‘zombie sighting’ and ‘Bayport,’ ” Chet told Frank, whose fingers were poised over the keyboard.

  Frank typed. After a few seconds a long list of links came up on the screen.

  He clicked on the first link. It led to a website called Monstersightings.com. A headline on the home page blared:

  ZOMBIE SIGHTING IN BAYPORT!

  Just below the headline was Madison’s fuzzy zombie photo.

  “That is so random,” Joe said, puzzled. “How did Monstersightings.com get hold of Madison’s picture?”

  “They’re not the only ones,” Chet said. “I’m telling you, it’s on a gazillion websites!”

  “Huh.” Joe munched on his cookie and scanned the Monstersightings.com article:

  This morning a Bayport resident reported seeing a zombie in the local park. She was able to take this photo with her cell phone before the creature fled into the forest. A source close to the situation was quoted as saying: “Some people refuse to believe zombies exist. But I’m definitely locking my doors tonight!”

  Posted Tuesday 5:15 p.m. by Luke Johnson

  “ ‘Source close to the situation’? What source?” Joe said out loud. He remembered what their dad had said this morning about sources and publicists and all that.

  “A friend of Madison’s, maybe?” Frank guessed.

  “Or maybe it was Madison herself,” Joe mused.

  “Huh?” Chet sounded totally confused.

  Joe reached for his third cookie. Aunt Gertrude glanced up from her magazine and frowned at him. “Yeah. So maybe Madison faked that zombie picture and spread it around,” Joe said. “You know, to get attention. Madison loves attention.”

  Frank nodded. “I think it’s time to add Madison to our suspect list.”

  “Definitely,” Joe agreed.

  • • •

  On Wednesday morning Madison was surrounded by her usual group of admirers at the Zombie Mania shoot.

  “Madison, you’re famous!” Beatrice cried out.

  “Your picture is everywhere!” Haley piped up.

  Joe watched Madison, expecting her to gloat and say something obnoxious. But instead she fidgeted and seemed uncomfortable. What was up with that?

  He and Frank went up to her. “Hey, Madison? Can we talk to you?” Frank asked her.

  “Alone?” Joe added.

  Madison blinked nervously. “Um, I guess?” She turned to her friends and said, “I’ll be right back.”

  Madison followed Frank and Joe over to a secluded spot under a willow tree.

  “So, how does it feel to be, uh, famous?” Joe asked Madison.

  Madison’s eyes welled up with tears. “It’s awful!” she blurted out.

  “What? Why?” Frank said, surprised.

  “My parents are really mad at me about the zombie picture,” Madison said, her lip quivering. “I’m not allowed to use the computer or watch TV for a whole week. It’s so unfair!”

  “You mean they’re mad at you for taking the picture? Or for posting it all over the Internet?” Joe asked her.

  “I did not post it all over the Internet. Someone else did. But my parents won’t believe me,” Madison complained.

  Joe regarded her. She seemed genuinely upset. Hmmm. “Well, if you didn’t post it, then who did?”

  “Yeah. Did you text it to someone? Like one of your friends?” Frank added.

  “No! I’m not allowed to text pictures,” Madison replied.

  Joe remembered that Madison had been passing her phone around yesterday morning and sharing her zombie picture with the crowd. In theory anyone there could have texted it. “Madison, can I see your phone?”

  “Sure.” Madison reached into her pocket and handed her phone to Joe.

  Joe wasn’t an expert on cell phones—unlike Phil, who knew everything there was to know about high-tech gadgets. But Joe could figure out the basics, like if Madison’s zombie photo had been texted, and to what number.

  Joe scrolled around until he found the information he needed. The photo had been texted to a number with an out-of-state area code yesterday at 10:01 a.m.

  Joe showed the number to Madison. “Do you recognize it?” he asked her.

  Madison shook her head. “N-no. I’ve never seen that number before.”

  “I know! Let’s call it,” Frank suggested.

  “Yeah, let’s!” Joe hit the call button.

  The phone rang once and then went straight to a voice mail recording: “This is Vanessa. Leave a message!” Beeeeep!

  Joe hung up quickly. “Who’s Vanessa?” he asked Madison.

  Madison frowned. “Vanessa? I don’t know anyone named Vanessa.” Her face lit up. “Oh, yeah. My mom’s hairstylist’s name is Vanessa!” She frowned again. “Or is it Vivian? Or Veronica? Or maybe it’s Janessa, with a J.”

  “Great,” Frank mumbled.

  Dogs began barking to the tune of “Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star.” Joe realized with a start that it was the ringtone on Madison’s phone. Joe wondered if Mystery Vanessa was dialing Madison’s number to find out who had called her a second ago.

  But the screen flashed: MOM CALLING.

  “Uh, it’s your mom,” Joe said, handing the phone back to Madison.

  Madison glanced at the screen and hit talk. “Hi, Mommy. . . . What? No, I didn’t talk to a reporter named Luke Jackson. . . . What? No, I didn’t talk to a Luke Johnson, either. . . .”

  Frank tugged on Joe’s arm and pulled him aside. “You and I got to the Zombie Mania shoot at, like, ten thirty yesterday,” he said in a low voice. “I remember looking at my watch. Madison got here earlier. Like, before ten. So someone in the crowd could have grabbed her phone and texted the picture to this Vanessa person at ten or so.” He added, “Or Vanessa could have texted it to herself. To her own phone, I mean.”

  “Makes sense,” Joe agreed. “Maybe we should add Vanessa to our suspect list—whoever she is.”

  “We’re missing a Why, though. Why would Vanessa post that picture all over the Internet? Was she Luke Johnson’s ‘source’? Why would she say that stuff to him for his article?” Frank mused.

  “Frank! Joe!”

  The boys turned around. Cissy ran up to them.

  “What’s wrong?” Joe asked her. She looked shaken.

  “I just saw a zombie in the park. It tried to attack me!” she cried out.

  7

  Too Many Zombies

  Okay, where did you see this zombie?” Frank asked Cissy.

  “I think we’re almost there,” Cissy replied.

  Cissy led the way through Bayport Park on a wide jogging path lined with wildflowers. Frank and Joe flanked her on the right and left. Every few seconds, joggers and exercise walkers passed by. It was a beautiful morning, perfect for a run or stroll in the park.

  Frank felt uneasy, though. Unlike Madison, Cissy wasn’t the sort of person to make up a zombie story for attention. If Cissy said she’d seen a zombie, she had seen a zombie. Or at least someone pretending to be a zombie.

 

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