The Day of the Dead Mystery Read online

  Back in the park, the Day of the Dead party was in full swing. Strings of lights hung in the trees, and candles flickered in the darkness, illuminating the pictures families had put up to remember loved ones. Children chased each other around the tables, giggling and swiping candy when their parents weren’t looking. The adults greeted each other with hugs and handshakes.

  At the Hidalgos’ altar, Mrs. Hidalgo was handing out cups of soda and more of her delicious tamales. Great-Grandmother Luisa’s picture sat behind the jewelry box with the heirloom bracelet tucked inside, finally back where it belonged.

  “You’re back!” Gloria said to the Aldens. “Did you enjoy your grandfather’s surprise?”

  “Yes!” Benny said. He told the Hidalgos about the special dinner Grandfather and Mrs. McGregor had prepared and all the memories the family had shared.

  “That’s wonderful,” Mrs. Hidalgo said. She wore even more elaborate Catrina makeup than Gloria and Mateo—a big skeleton’s grin painted around her mouth, and colorful flowers cascading down her neck and shoulders.

  “Ah,” Mr. Hidalgo said, pointing to the far end of the path that was strewn with bright orange marigold petals. “Here comes the music.”

  The children turned to see a group of musicians walking through the park. Two women strummed small guitars, and behind them one man played a larger guitar and another played a drum. The musicians began to sing in Spanish.

  Gloria looked at her parents in surprise. “Isn’t this song one of Great-Grandmother’s favorites?”

  Mr. Hidalgo nodded and smiled. “That’s right. You have a good memory, Gloria.”

  “Keeping memories alive is what this day is all about,” Uncle Jorge added. He smiled at his brother, and the men shook hands. Then he lifted his cup. “La familia es primero,” he said.

  Mateo nodded in agreement. “The family comes first.” Then he began to dance and clap along with the music. “Now, let’s celebrate!”

  About Day of the Dead

  Día de Muertos, or Day of the Dead, is celebrated in Mexico, parts of Latin America, and some Latin American communities around the world. The two-day celebration is a time to remember those who have died, but that does not mean it is meant to be sad or scary. Instead, Day of the Dead is a time in which people honor loved ones who have died and welcome their spirits back for a night.

  Day of the Dead traditions go back thousands of years. Civilizations such as the Aztec empire viewed death as another part of life—as something to be accepted and embraced. The Aztecs held a month-long celebration in honor of death. Later, colonists from Spain conquered Mexico. Many of the colonists believed in Catholicism, which has its own days for remembering the dead: All Saints Day and All Souls Day. After seizing control, the colonists moved the Aztec’s late-summer celebration to the first two days of November, the dates of All Saints Day and All Souls Day. Today, the ways in which people celebrate Day of the Dead continue to change, but the main purpose for the celebration remains.

  The first day of Día de Muertos, November 1, is also called Día de los Angelitos, or “Day of the Little Angels.” It is a time to remember children and infants who have passed away. In memory of these young ones, families put toys and candy onto altars called ofrendas.

  The second day, November 2, is the day to celebrate and honor adults who have died. On both days, people decorate ofrendas with candles and pictures. It is also common to put beverages; pan de muerto, or “bread of the dead”; and caleveras de azúcar, or “sugar skulls,” onto the ofrenda.

  According to one tradition, spirits of the dead travel to the land of the living during Día de Muertos. The journey is long and exhausting, and the food, drinks, and treats are meant to help the spirits regain their strength. Some people also put out blankets and pillows so spirits can rest. Flores de cempazuchitl, or marigold flowers, are also common on Day of the Dead. The marigold’s bright orange color and strong smell are believed to help lead souls back home.

  In Mexico, many people celebrate Day of the Dead in cemeteries. People set up ofrendas, clean off grave sites, hold picnics, and spend time telling stories about loved ones who have died. In countries such as the United States, cemeteries have different rules, making it more difficult to celebrate Day of the Dead at grave sites. In addition, many recent immigrants may not have relatives in their country’s cemeteries. People have adapted by keeping ofrendas in their homes or by gathering together for community celebrations in parks, churches, and cultural centers.

  Community celebrations of Day of the Dead often involve face painting and dressing up like skeletons. This style of art, known as La Catrina, is a way of making light of death. Along with singing, dancing, and holding parades, it is another way for communities to joyfully connect with relatives and friends who are no longer living.

  Read on for an exclusive sneak preview of

  THE LEGEND OF THE HOWLING WEREWOLF

  the next

  Boxcar Children mystery!

  Grandfather Alden pulled his rental car onto the interstate. He looked over his left shoulder, waiting for traffic to pass. Then he sped up. “Couple more hours until we get to Mrs. Riley’s house,” he told his four grandchildren.

  Ten-year-old Violet was in the backseat. Her pigtails bounced as she turned to see the road signs. “‘Welcome to Idaho,’” she read aloud. Another sign whizzed by. “‘Famous Potatoes.’”

  “‘Where are all the potatoes, Grandfather?” she asked.

  He nodded toward the windows. “See all those bare fields out there? Desert, really. Miles and miles of crops have already been harvested. It’s October, so potatoes are being sent to all parts of the country by train and truck.”

  “For French fries and hash browns, right, Grandfather?” six-year-old Benny, who was sitting next to Violet, said.

  Grandfather smiled at Benny in his rearview mirror. “That’s right,” he said. “When we get to Townsend, you’ll see that sugar beets are another important crop in Idaho. They’re part of a fun event this weekend.”

  “That’s exciting,” said Benny. “When will we get there?”

  “Soon,” said Grandfather for the fifth time that hour. “Try to enjoy the view, Benny. Do you know those mountains in the distance?”

  “Uh, no, not really,” Benny said. He looked to his brother in the front seat for an answer.

  “Those are the Rockies,” said fourteen-year-old Henry. “They go all the way from Canada down to New Mexico. They’ll be covered with snow all winter.”

  After a while, they passed some hills with steep sides and flat tops.

  “They look like tables,” said Jessie.

  “Those are called buttes,” Grandfather explained. “They are actually volcanic cones. See their black sides?”

  “Lava!” said Henry. “We studied buttes in science class. Volcanoes used to bubble up here. And when the lava dried, it made the buttes. But I think these volcanoes have been sleeping for a long time.”

  “That’s right, Henry,” said Grandfather.

  “What if they wake up while we’re here?” asked Violet.

  “The last eruption was about two thousand years ago,” Grandfather said. “No need to worry. And here we are.” He slowed the car, clicked on his turn signal, and took the exit.

  “Look, Benny, we’re almost there,” said Henry. He pointed to a sign out the window.

  “‘Welcome to Townsend. Home of the Sage Hen,’” Benny read slowly. “What’s that mean, Grandfather?”

  “It looks like a chicken,” said Violet, who was looking at the bird shown on the sign.

  “It does, I suppose,” Grandfather said with a chuckle. “Sage hens are also called sage grouse. Strange creatures. The males do this funny dance to attract the females. It’s quite the sight. That’s one reason a lot of tourists come up to places like Townsend.”

  “I hope we can get a close look,” said Jessie. “And I want to see some lava.” She was twelve, and she loved animals. She rolled down the window for he
r dog, Watch, so he could sniff the cool autumn air.

  “I hope we see them too,” said Henry. As the oldest, he liked to take charge. “Maybe I can lead us all on a hike. And hopefully we’ll come across an old volcano.”

  “You’ll have plenty of time to explore in the next few days,” said Grandfather. “When I was a boy, I went to summer camp here. The area is rich in geology and Native American history.”

  As Grandfather drove down Main Street, he said, “I’m excited for you to meet my friend Mrs. Riley. She has a big project I think will interest you all.”

  “I can’t wait to meet her,” said Jessie.

  Violet looked over at her grandfather. “We love projects!”

  “Yes, I know, dear.” Grandfather gave her a friendly wink.

  The Alden children were orphans. After their parents died, they had learned they must go live with a grandfather they had never met. They heard he was mean, so they ran away to the woods, where they found shelter in an old boxcar. That’s where they found their wire fox terrier, Watch. Soon their grandfather found them. He wasn’t mean at all! He brought them to his home in Greenfield, Connecticut, to live as a family. He even had the boxcar brought to his backyard. Now the Aldens used it as their clubhouse.

  Grandfather traveled often. When possible, he brought his grandchildren with him so they would have new experiences. This trip had brought him to Boise, Idaho. And now he and the children were on their way across the state to visit his friend Mrs. Riley.

  Trees along Townsend’s Main Street were gold and crimson with fall leaves. Grandfather turned up a gravel driveway just outside of town. A single-story ranch house sat in a field of sagebrush. Wide windows faced the foothills of the mountains.

  A woman in jeans and a plaid shirt came from the front porch to greet the Aldens. Her long dark hair hung in a braid over her shoulder. She wore turquoise earrings and a turquoise bracelet. She shook hands with Grandfather and smiled at the children. “I’m Susan Riley,” she told them. “I’m very happy to meet you. And, James, it’s wonderful to see you again.”

  “Thank you for inviting us, Susan,” said Grandfather.

  She turned to the children. “This is a good weekend to be here because it’s our very first Harvest Festival. I’m on the City Council and am one of the festival organizers.”

  “That sounds like fun,” said Jessie. “Do you need any help?”

  “Actually, yes,” the woman said. “There is much to do, and it would be nice to have some help. Would that interest you?”

  “Yes!” Violet replied quickly.

  “I love to help,” Benny said.

  “We all do,” Jessie said. “The middle school Henry and I go to will give us extra credit for community service. But even if they didn’t, we would still want to help you.”

  “That’s right,” Henry agreed.

  “Well come on in,” Mrs. Riley said. “I’ve set out some snacks in case anyone’s hungry.”

  Benny’s face lit up. His family laughed. “Benny’s always hungry,” Jessie explained.

  “Then you’re in the right place,” their hostess said. She waved them inside, and they went to the kitchen. A table in the center of the room had plates of sliced apples, cheese, and crackers. “Sit, please,” she said, pouring each child a glass of milk. She brought Grandfather a steaming mug of tea. Watch curled up under the table, waiting for any dropped food.

  “What is the Harvest Festival?” Benny asked. “Is it for the potatoes your town planted?”

  “Good question, Benny,” the woman replied. “Idaho certainly is famous for potatoes, but the big crop around Townsend is sugar beets.”

  “Sugar beets?” Jessie said. “Do people make a pie or cake with those?”

  “In a way, yes,” Mrs. Riley said. “But first the beets are sent to factories. They’re processed into the type of sugar used for baking. Soda companies also use it to sweeten soft drinks.”

  “But can you eat a sugar beet like one of these apples?” Benny asked.

  Mrs. Riley laughed. “I’ll let you find out tomorrow, Benny. Meanwhile, I’ll show you all to where you are staying so you can settle in.”

  When the children were done eating, they took their plates to the sink. Then they went and got their bags from the car. After picking where they would sleep, they joined Grandfather and Mrs. Riley on the back deck. She was looking at the foothills, now golden in the afternoon sun.

  “Are there any sage grouse out there?” Henry asked.

  “Probably,” she replied. “Not only are they becoming rare, but they’re hard to spot. Their feathers are camouflaged in the brush.”

  Jessie opened her notebook and clicked her pen. “Mrs. Riley, what do you need help with to get ready for the Harvest Festival? Just tell us, and we’ll get started.”

  “That’s very kind, Jessie. Thank you.” Mrs. Riley continued to stare at the hills. “Something’s been troubling me though.”

  “What is it, Susan?” Grandfather asked.

  She sighed. “I’m worried no one will show up on Sunday. Especially for the evening parade.”

  “Why is that?” asked Henry.

  “For the past few months, a rumor has been going around town,” Mrs. Riley said. “A strange and upsetting rumor.”

  The Alden children exchanged glances. They looked at their host with concern.

  “What rumor?” Violet asked. She suddenly felt cold and rubbed her arms to warm up.

  Mrs. Riley motioned toward the foothills. “Someone posted on our website that a werewolf lives up there,” she said.

  Benny gulped. He said, “A werewolf?”

  Mrs. Riley nodded. “Yes,” she said. “And when the harvest moon gets full, as it will this weekend, the creature supposedly sneaks into town. Some people are afraid of going outside.”

  The children were quiet for a moment. Then Henry said, “But there’s no such thing as a werewolf. Isn’t that right, Grandfather?”

  “I’m certain they don’t exist,” said Grandfather.

  Violet looked up at Grandfather. In a quiet voice she said, “But what if they do exist?”

  Introducing The Boxcar Children Early Readers!

  Adapted from the beloved chapter books, these new early readers allow kids to begin reading with the stories that started it all. Look for The Yellow House Mystery and Mystery Ranch, coming Spring 2019!

  Add to Your Boxcar Children Collection with New Books and Sets!

  The first twelve books are now available in three individual boxed sets!

  The Boxcar Children Bookshelf includes the first twelve books, a bookmark with complete title checklist, and a poster with activities.

  The Boxcar Children 20-Book Set includes Gertrude Chandler Warner’s original nineteen books, plus an all-new activity book, stickers, and a magnifying glass!

  Introducing Interactive Mysteries!

  Have you ever wanted to help the Aldens crack a case? Now you can with this interactive, choose-your-path-style mystery!

  The Boxcar Children, Fully Illustrated!

  This fully illustrated edition celebrates Gertrude Chandler Warner’s timeless story. Featuring all-new full-color artwork as well as an afterword about the author, the history of the book, and the Boxcar Children legacy, this volume will be treasured by first-time readers and longtime fans alike.

  Henry, Jessie, Violet, and Benny Alden are on a secret mission that takes them around the world!

  When Violet finds a turtle statue that nobody’s seen before in an old trunk at home, the children are on the case! The clue turns out to be an invitation to the Reddimus Society, a secret guild dedicated to returning lost treasures to where they belong.

  Now the Aldens must take the statue and six mysterious boxes across the country to deliver them safely—and keep them out of the hands of the Reddimus Society’s enemies. It’s just the beginning of the Boxcar Children’s most amazing adventure yet!

  GERTRUDE CHANDLER WARNER discovered when she was teaching tha
t many readers who like an exciting story could find no books that were both easy and fun to read. She decided to try to meet this need, and her first book, The Boxcar Children, quickly proved she had succeeded.

  Miss Warner drew on her own experiences to write the mystery. As a child she spent hours watching trains go by on the tracks opposite her family home. She often dreamed about what it would be like to set up housekeeping in a caboose or freight car—the situation the Alden children find themselves in.

  While the mystery element is central to each of Miss Warner’s books, she never thought of them as strictly juvenile mysteries. She liked to stress the Aldens’ independence and resourcefulness and their solid New England devotion to using up and making do. The Aldens go about most of their adventures with as little adult supervision as possible—something else that delights young readers.

  Miss Warner lived in Putnam, Connecticut, until her death in 1979. During her lifetime, she received hundreds of letters from girls and boys telling her how much they liked her books.