A Good Night for Ghosts

face in New Orleans?” asked Jack.
    “Perhaps none,” said Teddy. “But keep the magic trumpet with you just in case. And remember, after you have played it, the magic will be gone and it will become an ordinary trumpet.”
    “Got it,” said Jack. He took a deep breath.
    “Okay,” said Annie. “Ready?”
    “Wait,” said Jack. “Can you tell us what kind of creative genius we’re looking for?”
    “We can do more than that,” said Kathleen with a smile. “We can tell you his name. It is Louis Armstrong.”
    “Louis Armstrong,” repeated Jack. He knew that name.
    “He is the King of Jazz,” said Teddy.
    “The King of Jazz?” said Annie. “Cool!”
    “Yes,” said Kathleen. “But Louis Armstrong won’t know that when you meet him. It is your job to put him on the right path.”
    “To give his gifts to the world,” said Annie. “Got it.”
    “Good,” said Teddy. “And now you should go.”
    “Right,” said Jack. He pointed at the cover of the book. “I wish we could go there,” he said. “To New Orleans!”
    “To meet the King of Jazz!” said Annie.
    “Good luck!” said Teddy as he and Kathleen waved good-bye.
    The wind started to blow.
    The tree house started to spin.
    It spun faster and faster.
    Then everything was still.
    Absolutely still.

T he hot, muggy air was filled with noise. Jack and Annie heard the
clippity-clop
of horses’ hooves. They heard voices calling out “Crawfish pies!” “Buttermilk!” “Gumbo for sale here!”
    Jack looked down at his and Annie’s clothes. They were both wearing white shirts and dark trousers with suspenders. Jack’s backpack had turned into a cloth bag. Neither Jack nor Annie was wearing shoes.
    “Wow, we’re barefoot. That’s cool,” said Annie. “And at least I can run in these pants. I like them alot better than the dress I wore on our last mission.”
    “Yeah.” Jack smiled, remembering Annie’s long, frilly dress in Vienna and his velvet coat and white wig. “I like being barefoot, too,” he said. “But what year did we come to? I can’t tell from our outfits.”
    Jack and Annie looked out the window. The tree house had landed in a grove of palm trees. Not far away, steamboats churned down a river. Below them was a bustling city scene. Rows of stores lined both sides of a wide street. Vendors were selling food from carts. Women shoppers wore long skirts, and men wore white suits and hats.
    Mule carts and horse-drawn buggies bumped alongside a few antique-looking cars. Moving down the middle of the street were red and green train cars. Each one was attached to an electric line overhead.
    “This is definitely a long time ago,” said Jack. “But when exactly?”

    “I can’t tell,” said Annie.
    “Maybe our research book can help us,” said Jack. “I’ll look up Louis Armstrong.” Jack looked in the index of
A History of New Orleans Music
and found a chapter on Louis Armstrong. He read:
    Born in New Orleans in 1901, Louis Armstrong grew up to be one of the greatest jazz musicians who ever lived .
    A photo showed an African American man playing a trumpet. His cheeks were puffed out and his eyes were closed. Stage lights were shining on him. Thousands of people were in the audience. The caption under the photo read
Louis Armstrong, King of Jazz
.
    “So what is
jazz
exactly?” asked Annie.
    “It’s a kind of music,” said Jack.
    “Well, yeah, but what kind?” said Annie.
    Jack looked up
jazz
in the glossary of their book. He read:
    Jazz began in New Orleans in the early 1900s and was first played by African Americans. It is a style of music that has a strong beat and is played with lots of feeling. Jazz melodies are often made up on the spot .
    “Got it,” said Annie. “Read more about Louis.”
    Jack flipped back to the pages about Louis Armstrong and read:
    As a young teenager, Louis Armstrong often performed with “kid bands” on the streets of the city. Eventually he played with older musicians in dance halls and developed his musical talents performing on Mississippi riverboats. When he was twenty-one, he moved to Chicago, where—
    “Stop. That’s all we need,” Annie broke in.
    “It is?” asked Jack.
    “Yep, we’ll just ask someone what the date is,” said Annie. “Then we can figure out how old Louis Armstrong is, and we’ll know where to look for him: the streets, a dance hall, or on the Mississippi River.”
    Annie picked up the magic trumpet. She tuckedit under her arm and