Read Spirits of the Pirate House for Free Online

aside after today’s game and
told him that, with a little hard work—namely, playing American
Legion ball over the summer—he would have a good shot of starting
on the varsity team by his junior year. T.J. had thanked him but
reminded the coach that Cross Country was his first priority and
that he’d have to make those running workouts his main focus during
the summer. Pisseri, afraid to lose an athlete of his potential
from a talent-depleted program, had agreed to help him work
something out after the Fourth of July.
    “Your dad left a note on the fridge,” said
Bortnicker, juggling a container of milk and two boxes of ice cream
that he’d snatched from the freezer. “He’ll be home for dinner.
He’s thinking we’ll hit Pizza Palace.”
    “Sounds like a plan.”
    “And he says a package came for you this
morning from The Adventure Channel. Go grab it while I whip up some
milkshakes. You got any chocolate sauce?”
    “In the pantry,” T.J. said, opening the FedEx
envelope his father had left on the butcher block-topped kitchen
island. He removed a thick folder with Junior Gonzo Ghost
Chasers Pilot embossed on the black cover. Inside was a note
which he read aloud:
     
    Dudes ,
    Hope the end of the school year is going
well for you. In this folder is a lot of background history on
Bermuda and pirates who operated in that area. There isn’t much on
William Tarver—we’re going to have to visit the historical
society’s archives over there to get a better read on this guy.
    But dig this—they’ve had to close down his
residence to the public because people are too scared to work
there! So the government’s losing tourist money, which is why they
called us. It’s common knowledge that after we visit a site their
visitor rate goes way up. Of course, it would help if we actually
find something!
    So, read up on all this stuff before we go.
I’ve sent a copy to your cousin in PA. This is gonna be
awesome!
    Catch you later,
    Mike
     
    “What do you think?” said T.J., reaching into
the cupboard for some parfait glasses.
    “Way cool,” replied Bortnicker, scooping
chocolate chip mint and rocky road ice cream into the blender. He
added some milk and a squirt of chocolate sauce, popped on the top,
and hit the toggle switch. “Looks like we’ve got homework while we
study for our school finals.”
    “I’m not really that worried about our
school tests,” said T.J., “except maybe math. But I want to go over
there prepared. We don’t want to embarrass ourselves or make Mike
look bad for volunteering us for this investigation. You know, last
year in Gettysburg we just kinda went with it as stuff happened,
but now it’s all going to be captured on film. I don’t want to look
like an idiot.”
    “I don’t think your fair cousin would allow
that to occur,” quipped Bortnicker, pouring the silky mixture into
their glasses. “Tell me how it tastes.”
    T.J. took a gulp, creating an instant ice
cream mustache. “Excellent, as always.”
    “Some Oreos would go great with this.”
    T.J. rummaged around in the pantry. “We’re
out. How about Chips Ahoy?”
    “Just as good. Give me half the folder and
let’s start reading.”
     

Chapter Six
     
    As was usually the
case, Pizza Palace was hopping this Saturday night. It wasn’t the
fanciest eatery in Fairfield, but the food was hearty and the
portions were large, the only requirements necessary for the boys.
They slid into a red leatherette booth across the table from Mr.
Jackson and eyed the people at the other tables, most of whom were
families with squirming children.
    “So, what’ll it be tonight, guys?” said Tom
Sr., opening the surprisingly voluminous menu.
    “We were feeling like pizza,” said
Bortnicker. “The Seafood Supreme, in honor of Bermuda and all.”
    “You want a salad with that?”
    “Salad?” said T.J. with mock horror, “who
needs salad?”
    “Yeah,” agreed Bortnicker, “it’s not like my
mom’s here or