Two adults entered the room. One was a scrawny guy with thin, black hair. He was dressed in jeans and a T-shirt and introduced himself as Pete Carter, assignments editor.
The other was a tall, thin woman with bushy brown hair. She told Estella and Brian that she was Sara Jeffries, the producer of That’s News 2 Me.
“Congratulations on joining our program for the week,” she said. “Are you ready to get started?”
Both Brian and Estella nodded, so Sara said, “Okay. Here’s the setup. Each of our investigative reporters is teamed with one camera person and one sound engineer. Our entire group will hold a story meeting in which ideas for the show will be pitched.
“Once the ideas are decided on, Pete will give the teams their assignments and make a few suggestions about various angles on the story. I’ll help in any way possible. Filming will be completed on Thursday so that the show can be edited on Friday. The reporters will do any extra work that’s needed on the stories on Friday, as well.”
Pete broke in and said, “When you’re being filmed, don’t wear white, small plaids, or stripes because they don’t read well on camera.”
It was Sara’s turn. She looked at her notes and said, “Okay, here’s how we’ve teamed you. Team one: Estella, Megan, and Jack. Team two: Brian, Mark, and Holly.”
Brian glanced at Estella with a pang of disappointment.
Jack whispered, “Tough break, Brian.”
Sara called out to the other kids in the room, “Story meeting. Everybody over here.”
Chairs were dragged and rearranged into a circle, until all the people who helped make That’s News 2 Me were included.
“Now,” Sara said, “let’s hear some ideas.”
For a few moments there was only silence. Then Estella shyly raised her hand, an inch at a time, until it was barely over her head.
Brian knew how Estella felt. It was like school, when you sort of know the answer, but you’re not sure, so you don’t want anyone to laugh if you’re wrong.
“Estella, you’re not in a classroom,” Sara said bluntly. “You don’t need to raise your hand. Just speak out.”
Estella’s voice was tiny. “Uh…I’d like to do a story about the way the news is produced.”
Sara closed her eyes and rubbed her chin as she thought. “A behind-the-scenes sort of thing?” She turned to Pete. “What are your ideas on this?”
“I like the idea of behind-the-scenes,” Pete said, “but not on us. How about investigating people who have unusual occupations?”
Sara began to seem interested. “Like a medical photographer? Or a—”
“A professional pet sitter?” Estella said.
“Yeah. Good. That’s the idea,” Pete said.
“A stage set painter,” one of the anchors suggested.
“A hot-air-balloon pilot,” Holly screeched.
“A seal trainer,” Megan giggled.
Soon everyone had contributed ideas, and the list of unusual jobs grew. Estella’s cheeks were pink with excitement.
Finally Sara said, “Okay. The members of the first team have a good start on their topic.” She turned to Brian and asked, “What have you come up with, Brian?”
Everyone stared at Brian as he blurted out, “I’d like to do a story about the high-tech burglaries.”
Sara quickly shook her head. “Forget that idea right now,” she said. “That news story is not for us.”
4
BRIAN DIDN’T GIVE UP easily. “Why not?” he asked. “I think it’s a good idea.” Sara glanced at Pete before she said, “For one thing, the police have asked us not to make a big thing of the burglaries. If they’re kept low-key the police think they’ll have a better chance of catching the thief.”
“And for another thing,” Pete interrupted, “burglaries are too much for a news show for kids. Besides, the nightly news team is already working on that story. When it breaks it won’t be on That’s News 2 Me.”
“So come up with something else,” Sara said. “C’mon, Brian, give us another idea.”
For a panicky moment Brian went blank, but Estella spoke up. “Kids do think about burglaries and robberies. So how about safety tips? You know, like not opening doors to strangers, writing down license plate numbers of suspicious cars, when to call 9-1-1 emergency, and when to call the regular phone number of the police. That sort of thing.”
Sara perked up. “It not only gives good information. It also teaches commonsense prevention. I like it. Pete? Your opinion, please.”
Pete stared into space for a moment, then said, “Yeah. It’ll work. Go for it, Brian. Have the first draft of your script ready for us on Monday.”
As Estella smiled at Brian he no longer minded that his story idea had been changed so much. Crime prevention would be interesting, too.
When Mrs. Quinn picked up Brian and Estella after the meeting, they were both excited about their projects.
“We even found a way to link our stories,” Estella said. “Sara suggested that I do three short interviews. The third could be an interview with a police sketch artist or fingerprint expert. That could lead right into Brian’s story about crime prevention.”
“You’re both doing a terrific job,” Mrs. Quinn said. “I have an idea, too, if you’d like to hear it.”
“Sure, Mom,” Brian said.
“It’s really for Estella and not you, Brian,” Mrs. Quinn answered. “I was thinking about your mother’s job, Estella. It’s a very interesting one. Maybe you could interview her.”
“I doubt it. Mom’s kind of shy,” Estella said. But she smiled as she added, “I’ll ask her.”
Mrs. Quinn drove up in front of the apartment Estella shared with her mother.
As Estella climbed out of the car, Brian said, “I’ll see you tomorrow, Estella, when the teams get together.”
Estella said, “Our news stories will have to be outlined by then. Tomorrow! We’ve got an awful lot of research and writing to do.”
Brian climbed into the front seat as his mother drove toward home. He asked, “What kind of job does Mrs. Martinez have? Why is it so interesting?”
“Mrs. Martinez owns a travel agency,” Mrs. Quinn answered.
“She’s a travel agent?” Brian groaned. “Aw, Mom, kids want to learn about cool jobs like sewer inspectors, or night watchmen in cemeteries, or the guys who feed blood to bats in the zoo.”
“There are lots of people who might think that planning people’s travel is interesting,” Mrs. Quinn said, but Brian just shook his head. He was glad that Estella had said her mother was shy and would turn down the idea.
That evening, as all the Quinns pitched in to get dinner ready, Sean said, “When I rode down to the park, I ran into Jacob Dean, one of the kids in my class, and he said—”
“You don’t mean you ran into him,” Mrs. Quinn said “You mean you met him in the park.”
“No, Mom. I mean I ran into him on my bike,” Sean said. “But I didn’t mean to. He kind of jumped into the way, but he didn’t get hurt, so it’s all right.”
“I’m sorry I interrupted you,” Mrs. Quinn said with a little sigh. “Tell us, what did Jacob say?”
“He said that while everyone in his family was at a family wedding in San Francisco, their house was burglarized.”
“Oh, dear,” Mrs. Quinn said.
“Yeah. The burglar took his parents’ computer and fax machine and Jacob’s video game. Jacob was really shaken up about someone going through their stuff and taking what they wanted.”
“That’s all they took? Electronics?” Brian asked.
Sean nodded. “That’s it. I guess they got hit by the High-Tech Burglar.”
“Did any of the neighbors see someone prowling around the house?”
“I asked Jacob, but he said no.”
“There’s something weird about those burglaries,” Brian said. “How does the burglar know who has computers and stuff like that and who doesn’t? And how does he know when the people are going t
o be out of the house?”
“Brian, suppose you stop asking questions and finish setting the table,” Mrs. Quinn told him.
Brian went back to his job, but he said, “Mom, private investigators always start by asking questions. When they find the answers to their questions, they can usually solve the cases.”
Sean pulled Brian to one side. “Are we on a case, Bri?” he asked eagerly. “Are we going to try to catch the High-Tech Burglar?”
Mr. Quinn scowled as he overheard Sean’s question. “Absolutely not,” he said. “Catching burglars is strictly up to the police.”
“I’ve got one more question, Dad,” Brian said. “How can the burglar get in and out of a house so fast, without being seen?”
“We’ve talked about this before,” Mr. Quinn answered. “The average home burglary takes between five and seven minutes. If people have left their houses, the burglar can be pretty sure they won’t be back within such a short time.”
“But I mean how,” Brian persisted.
“If doors don’t have deadbolts, it can take only seconds to open them,” Mr. Quinn said. “Burglars have the right tools, and they practice using them.”
“Maybe Jacob’s family told a lot of people they were going out of town to the wedding,” Sean said.
“They might have,” Mr. Quinn said. “The burglar may have picked up the information from overhearing people talking about the trip. Or sometimes thieves watch a house until they see a pattern. In any case, once burglars know a house is empty, they’re in, they take what they want, and they’re long gone by the time the house owners come home.”
Sean and Brian looked at each other. They both felt a little uneasy thinking that some stranger might be secretly watching their family’s comings and goings.
Brian quietly asked Sean, “Do you know where Jacob lives?”
“Sure,” Sean said.
“Then let’s ride over to his house after dinner. Mom and Dad couldn’t answer all my questions about the burglary. Maybe Jacob can’t either. But somewhere we’re going to find the answers!”
5
THE DEANS’ HOME WAS a comfortable, red brick house with a trim lawn and lots of shade trees. But there was nothing about it to make anyone think that the people who lived in it owned computers and color printers and fax machines and video games.
Brian pointed this out to Sean and added, “The Deans aren’t super-rich.”
“Hardly anybody we know is super-rich,” Sean said. “But lots of them have either a VCR or a computer, and a lot of their kids have electronic games.”
“Good point,” Brian said. He made a notation in the small notebook he always had with him.
Sean and Brian climbed the steps to the Deans’ porch and rang the bell.
Mrs. Dean, Jacob’s mother, opened the door.
Brian introduced Sean and himself and said, “We’re trying to solve the case of the High-Tech Burglar. Since we think he’s the one who burglarized you, would you mind answering some questions for us?”
“Not at all,” Mrs. Dean said. She sniffled into a twisted handkerchief as she led Brian and Sean to chairs in the living room. “Can you imagine? Thieves prowling around inside our house while we were spending the weekend in San Francisco? I’ll never forgive them for invading our home and stealing things we worked hard to buy.”
“I understand they took only electronic equipment,” Brian said.
“That’s right,” Mrs. Dean said. “And our computer was almost new!”
“Was it insured?” Brian asked.
“Why, no,” Mrs. Dean said. “Only the partial amount that was covered under our homeowners policy. We didn’t even think about getting extra insurance for it.”
She began to dab at her nose again, so Sean changed the subject. “Did a lot of people know you were going to a family wedding?”
“Our neighbors did and the people at work—and the people at the travel agency, of course,” Mrs. Dean answered. “They made travel arrangements for the bride and groom’s honeymoon, too. And we told all our friends. Some of them gave a party for us at the Redoaks Yacht Club. There was even a little item about the party in last Wednesday’s society section of the newspaper. Did you see it?”
“I guess I missed it,” Sean said.
Mrs. Dean blew her nose and told Sean, “I’m sorry Jacob isn’t here to play with you. He’s at my brother’s house.”
“That’s okay,” Sean said. “Please just say hello to him for me.”
They were almost at the door when Mrs. Dean stopped sniffling and took a close look at Brian. “Didn’t you tell me that the two of you were trying to solve this case?” she asked.
“That’s right,” Brian said.
“But you’re not old enough to be police officers.”
“We’re not police officers, Mrs. Dean,” Brian replied. “We’re private investigators. P.I.’s can be any age at all.”
“Well, good luck,” she said. But she stared at Brian and Sean with a puzzled look in her eyes as they rode away on their bikes.
As soon as they turned the corner Sean said, “Bri, what if the burglar read in the newspaper about the party for the Deans at the Yacht Club, and that’s how he knew they’d be away from home?”
“That could have happened,” Brian answered. “Also, there may be someone who works at the restaurant in the Yacht Club who tips off the thief.”
Sean sighed. “How are we going to figure out who it is?”
“Let’s sleep on it,” Brian said. “And tomorrow, see if you can think of any more questions to ask Jacob. I’m going to have to begin writing my news story. Both teams are meeting tomorrow afternoon at four, and filming starts after school.”
Instead of getting to work on his news story when he arrived home, Brian said, “Mom, I have to ask you some questions.”
“What kind of questions?” Mrs. Quinn asked.
“Questions about travel agents and how they arrange trips and honeymoons and stuff like that.”
Mr. Quinn dropped his newspaper. “Honeymoons?”
“It’s research, Dad. Mom, let’s say if I wanted to get married—”
“If you what?” Mr. Quinn interrupted.
“Married,” Brian said. “And if I told Mrs. Martinez I wanted her to plan a honeymoon, what would she do?”
“First of all, she’d ask if you knew where you wanted to travel, or if you’d like suggestions about interesting places. You might want a luxurious resort, or you might want a camping trip. And she’d ask you how much you’d want to spend on the trip.”
“Would she keep it secret?”
“If you asked her to,” Mrs. Quinn answered. “But there wouldn’t be much reason to keep it secret, would there?”
Brian sighed. “I guess not.”
Mr. Quinn studied Brian. “You’re talking about honeymoons and keeping things secret? Brian, I think you and I should have a little talk.”
Brian shook his head. “Not now, Dad. I’ve got a lot of things to think about.”
Until bedtime Brian worked on the outline for his news report, listing the crime prevention ideas he wanted to include. He put in a call to the Quinn’s family friend, Detective Sergeant Thomas Kerry, who agreed to be interviewed for the TV program.
Brian fell into bed, exhausted, his mind spinning with thoughts of break-in burglars, stolen computers, and Mrs. Martinez’s travel agency. “Wait until tomorrow,” he told himself, and then he fell asleep.
Mrs. Martinez’s travel agency was open on Sunday afternoon, so Brian and Sean rode their bikes to the agency and went inside. Mrs. Martinez greeted them and introduced them to her assistant, Dana Garrett.
“I’d like to ask you some questions, Mrs. Martinez,” Brian said.
Mrs. Martinez looked uncomfortable. She nervously twisted her fingers together as she asked, “Do these questions have anything to do with the That’s News 2 Me television program?”
“Uh…yes and no,” Brian answered.
Mrs.
Martinez looked even more uncomfortable. “As you can see, both Miss Garrett and I are busy with customers. I may not be able to get to you for a little while.”
“That’s all right,” Brian said. “Sean and I won’t mind waiting.”
Brian picked up some travel brochures and handed a couple to Sean to read, but they were seated so close to Miss Garrett that they couldn’t help overhearing her with her customer.
It was as if she were speaking to an old friend as she said, “Italy is lovely at that time of year, Mr. Banks. I’ll give you some brochures to read, but you’ll also find information about the country on the Internet. You do have access to the Internet, don’t you?”
“Oh, yes,” Mr. Banks answered.
“You can also get some wonderful pamphlets from the Italian Tourist Bureau. Here…I’ll write down the addresses for you.”
“Thank you,” Mr. Banks said. “You provide such wonderful services. I told my wife we wouldn’t let anyone else handle our travel plans.”
Miss Garrett smiled. “Be sure to turn on your household alarm system for extra protection.”
Mr. Banks looked worried. “We’ve never put in an alarm system, I’m afraid.”
“Don’t give it a second thought,” Miss Garrett said. “I don’t have an alarm system either. It’s just something we mention to all our customers.”
Mr. Banks smiled and said, “I won’t worry about a thing—except for having fun.”
The elderly customer who followed Mr. Banks was just as happy with Miss Garrett’s friendly approach.
“Miss Darvey, as I remember, you told me you had the cutest little West Highland terrier. Would you like me to help you find a kennel that will board him while you’re in Seattle for the week? Or will you have a pet sitter at your home?”
Miss Darvey smiled. “Dear Miss Garrett, you think of everything. You’ll be happy to know I’ve already made plans to board Fritzi.”
“I’ve insisted on a room with a bay view for you,” Miss Garrett said, and she and Miss Darvey began to discuss the beauties of Seattle.
Bait for a Burglar Page 2