“Muy padre, Paloma,” Gael said with a wide, satisfied smile. “Very cool.”
“Thanks,” Paloma said. “No time to waste. Show me the gallery.”
The art gallery was dark. The only lighting in the room came from inside large glass displays filled with faceless mannequins dressed in colorful skirts, silk headpieces, and ruffled blouses. Gael motioned for Paloma to follow him into the next room, where they passed Frida’s crutches, leather back brace, and prosthetic leg all on display. Paloma gasped at the strappy leather back brace with large metal buckles. Then Gael led her into the last room in the gallery, where Frida’s jewelry glimmered from display cases.
“This is where her peacock ring should be,” Gael said. Paloma’s brown eyes skimmed over the display cases full of silver and gold rings and necklaces with turquoise and other exotic stones.
“Maybe Diego hid her things away because back then they didn’t have good security in place to protect from robbery? I mean, now they have cameras.” She pointed up toward the ceiling where a small lens watched them. “I also saw a man installing one inside the museum. But before now, what sort of security did they have?”
“Frida use to have a pet monkey and a couple of hairless dogs,” Gael answered. “That’s about it.”
“Be serious,” Paloma said, rolling her eyes. She paced the room and ran through everything she knew so far. “We know Diego hid these things in the bathroom …” she started. “But what if there was another locked room somewhere? Another secret room where he hid other items that were more personal and worth more … like the peacock ring? Maybe he died before he had the chance to tell anyone about it. Or maybe he never wanted anyone to know.”
“If there was another locked room, don’t you think someone would have found it by now?”
Paloma shrugged. “Maybe not. It took them fifty years to discover one secret room. We can’t afford to let the adults take another fifty years to open another—”
“If there is another,” Gael added, rubbing his medallion between his fingers.
“That’s right,” Paloma admitted. “It’s just a theory right now, but we only have a couple of weeks to solve this mystery before Frida’s birthday.”
“Where do we start?”
“In cases like this, Lulu Pennywhistle always applies the POE.”
“POE?”
“Process of elimination,” Paloma said, punching the air above her with her pen. “We must search Casa Azul for another secret room left behind by Diego. If we don’t find it, we can disprove that theory and move on to the Fortune-Teller. No time to waste.”
Paloma marched out of the dark gallery into the sunlight beaming into Frida’s patio and garden. In the daylight, the courtyard hummed with activity. Some tourists lined up for refreshments at an outdoor café, while others popped in and out of a gift shop. A few people took turns snapping selfies in front of a yellow-and-red pyramid structure. A man dressed in a police uniform strolled the garden, singing to himself.
“Time for a limonada,” Gael said, marching past Paloma and toward the line of people at the café.
“¿Limonada?” Paloma exclaimed, throwing her hands up in frustration. “Lulu doesn’t stop for limonada!” Gael found a place in line. He smirked at her from across the patio.
Paloma joined him, but she wasn’t happy about it. They had just ordered two lemonades, when Gael nudged her hard. Paloma glared at him and nudged him back.
“Is that who I think it is?” Gael asked in a serious tone. Paloma followed his gaze to the right of the café. Through a transparent tarp that enclosed the café on one side, a slender man in a suit strolled between the tarp and the courtyard’s cement wall.
“Mr. Farill?” Paloma said. “I wonder if Tavo is with him …” She trailed off as the woman behind the counter presented two lemonades. Gael was suddenly no longer at her side. She spun around and saw him adjusting his knit cap over his ears and darting away from her. “Gael? What about the limonada?”
He motioned toward the museum. “Baño. Bathroom,” he said, scurrying across the patio.
“Okay, I guess I’ll pay,” Paloma muttered. She dug through her pockets for a few Mexican pesos. “Go ahead, let the Kansas girl pay for the limonada that you wanted,” Paloma continued, ignoring the confused look of the woman behind the counter.
“Allow me to get those for you, Paloma,” Mr. Farill said, suddenly appearing next to her. He handed a couple of bills to the woman.
“Thanks.” Paloma smiled and stepped out of the line, holding the two lemonades.
“Is your mom with you?” he asked.
“No, she’s at home working. I came here with a friend, but he …” She looked back toward the museum. “He went to take care of something.”
“He?” Mr. Farill said. “It’s not my son is it? Tavo is supposed to be helping his mom, but maybe he came here instead?” He raised his eyebrows a few times, and it made Paloma blush.
“No, it’s just my Spanish tutor.”
“A Spanish tutor! That’s great, Paloma.” Mr. Farill grinned. “You’re taking advantage of everything Coyoacán has to offer. That is superb.”
“Thanks.” She nodded. “It was my mom’s idea. Are you here to see Frida’s artwork? Is there another exhibit behind the cafeteria?” Paloma asked.
“Over there? No. There’s nothing there. I got lost looking for the gift shop,” Mr. Farill said. “I’m only here on orders from my wife. She’s helping with plans for Frida’s birthday party. She needed me to pick something up. I’ll make sure to give your mom an invitation for the party when you come over tomorrow night.”
“Muchas gracias,” Paloma chirped.
Mr. Farill answered with an impressed smile. “Your accent is excellent! Please tell your mom hello for me,” he said, giving Paloma a quick nod. As he sauntered across the patio and out the museum exit, a whiff of his peppery cologne remained. Paloma couldn’t help but think how cool it would be to have a dad who wore fancy gray suits, nice-smelling cologne, and showed up out of nowhere to pay for lemonade.
When Gael reappeared, she shoved a plastic cup of lemonade at him.
“What was that, Gael?”
“Sorry.” He winced. He took a sip of lemonade. “What did Farill say to you? Why was he here?”
“He’s helping out with Frida’s birthday party.”
“Behind the cafeteria?” Gael asked, walking toward the tarp where they first saw Mr. Farill. “Are there more offices back here? Bathrooms?” Gael mumbled something in Spanish as he found an opening in the tarp and walked through it. Paloma stepped through it as well, expecting someone to stop her, but no one did. They continued down a long, narrow passageway between the cafeteria and the outer wall of Frida’s courtyard. The two of them walked until the path stopped at a large old tree with low, thick branches. On the ground were a couple of fresh cigarette butts. Gael frowned and squashed the cigarette butts with his shoes. Paloma eyed the large tree and its dense branches. A wind swept through, and the branches swayed just enough for Paloma to catch a glimpse of a wooden door.
“There’s something behind here,” Paloma said. She placed her lemonade on the ground and pulled back a few branches. She squeezed between the tree’s branches and the outer courtyard wall and stumbled. As she got back up, she faced the old wooden door, locked with a rusty metal padlock.
“Gael, I may have found something!” Paloma yelled.
“Estoy aquí,” he answered, ducking under a tree branch to join her. “I’m here. I see it.”
They stared at the door in complete silence. Paloma couldn’t help but feel like she was looking at a second secret room, locked by Frida’s husband, Diego Rivera. She clutched Gael’s arm.
“This could be it,” she whispered.
“Or it could be an old mop room,” Gael said, grabbing the lock to inspect it. “It’s ancient.” He jiggled the doorknob to see if it would open. It didn’t. “Do you think Mr. Farill saw it?”
Paloma shrugged. “I don’t think
so. He said he was looking for the gift shop.”
Gael scanned the ground and grabbed a rock. He struck the lock with it. The lock didn’t budge.
“What are you doing?” Paloma exclaimed. “Are you trying to get security called on us?”
Gael tossed the rock down. “You’re right. We’re going to have to come back when the museum is closed. At midnight.”
“No way, José! My mom would never be down with that,” Paloma said. “Your cute dimples aren’t going to convince her to let me out at midnight.”
“You’re going to have to sneak out— Wait a minute! Did you say my dimples are cute?”
Paloma rolled her eyes. “Midnight is a no-go.”
“Look around you, Paloma. This place is full of tourists. It’s the only way to find out what’s in that room,” Gael said. “Lulu Pennywhistle would do it.”
Paloma felt as though she’d just been squashed like those cigarette butts on the ground. How dare he use Lulu against her. Yet, she knew he was right. The entire museum and courtyard buzzed with visitors, and there was a police officer walking around. It would be easier to search the locked room when the museum was empty. But at midnight? She hated the idea of sneaking out. What if they were caught and thrown into jail? Did they throw kids in jail in Mexico? Most of all, she hated going behind her mom’s back.
Still, Paloma’s mind raced with possibilities. What if the door revealed a secret room full of Mexican treasures? What if the peacock ring was inside? Mystery solved! Game over! Done! Her mom told her to embrace new opportunities in Mexico, right?
Paloma nodded. “Okay, let’s do it.”
The next morning, a trumpet blared outside Paloma’s bedroom window. Her mom burst through the door, startling Paloma awake.
“It’s a serenata!” her mom squealed, clapping her hands as she pushed aside the curtains and opened the window. An upbeat guitar rhythm and trumpet melody filled the room.
“What’s all that racket? It’s too early for trumpets.” Paloma pulled the bed comforter over her head. “Turn down the volume,” she barked.
“Your friends are serenading you, Paloma. Get up and see.”
Paloma rubbed her eyes open. “¡No me gusta!” She sat up and scowled at the window. Being grumpy in the morning was sort of her thing, but this morning deserved an extra dose of grouch. All night, Paloma tossed and turned in bed, unsure of how she’d climb out her bedroom window and sneak out the front gate that night. What had she gotten herself into?
“Get over here, grouchy bird. Come wave to them,” Paloma’s mom called to her from the windowsill. Paloma was not ready to leave her bed, but watching her mom bounce her head with the music softened her mood until she felt like the cottony blankets she wanted to hide under all morning. She slowly rose up out of bed and walked over to the window. Her mom wrapped an arm around Paloma’s waist.
Paloma gazed at the tree branches she’d have to climb down tonight. It suddenly looked very far from the ground. A lump formed in her throat.
“Isn’t this cool?” her mom asked, never taking her eyes off Gael and Lizzie outside the front gate below. Gael sang and strummed away on a blue guitar. Lizzie joined in with her silver trumpet. A man who was sweeping the street stopped and sang along. Her mom laughed, and Paloma couldn’t help but giggle, too. In return, Gael sent up the sweetest dimpled smile. Once the song was over, Paloma’s mom hurried down the stairs to open the gate for them. “I love Mexico! This is so amazing!”
Paloma splashed water on her face and brushed her hair. What did this serenade mean? The only other time she had heard about a serenade was when her father proposed to her mother. Was Gael proposing? She was only twelve—way too young to get married!
She pulled on a T-shirt, yoga pants, and the Aztec eagle warrior medallion. Once she got downstairs to the living room, Gael and Lizzie were already inside. Her mom rambled on about how much she adored that song and what a nice surprise it had been to wake up to music. While her mom raved, Gael stole a look at Paloma. No doubt, she liked Gael. She thought he was sweet, like the sort of boy who would decorate her locker on her birthday. Still, she wasn’t ready for a marriage proposal. She had things to accomplish.
Lizzie cleared her throat, and her eyes met Paloma’s.
“Hola, Kansas,” Lizzie said, stepping toward her. Paloma braced herself for a slug in the arm or something. Lizzie hadn’t been exactly happy with her the last time they’d talked. Instead, Lizzie gave her a quick kiss on the cheek. “It was Gael’s idea. Hope you liked it.”
“What’s not to like about a trumpet blowing through your window at eight in the morning?”
Paloma’s mom gave her a don’t-be-little-miss-grouch look. Gael stepped closer and planted a kiss on her cheek, too. “Buenos días, Paloma. You look very awake.”
“Blame the trumpet.” Paloma shrugged, not feeling alert at all.
“Ignore her. Come to the table, and I’ll get you some juice,” Paloma’s mom said, pulling out a chair from the dining room table for Lizzie. “I have croissants and papaya.” Paloma’s mom rushed off to the kitchen but not before slipping Paloma a glare that told her to be nice. The three kids took a seat at the table.
“So are you going to propose to me or what, Gael?” Paloma said, causing Gael to turn red. Lizzie laughed and clapped her hands. “That’s what a serenade means, right?”
“Sometimes,” Lizzie said, and playfully ruffled Gael’s knit hat. Gael winced at her and readjusted it. “We also serenade people on birthdays or if we’re thankful for something,” Lizzie explained. “It was Gael’s idea to serenade you. I went along with it because he told me that you found a secret room at Casa Azul and you’re going with us to check it out tonight. Gracias, Kansas.”
“De nada,” Paloma said. She wiped her forehead in an exaggerated gesture of relief. “I’m just glad Gael isn’t proposing to me. I’m too young,” she teased. “I still have to go to high school and college.”
Gael slunk down lower into his chair and shook his head. “No, it’s just to thank you for helping us,” he said in a whisper so that Paloma’s mom wouldn’t hear from the kitchen. “I’m too young for marriage, too. I have to become a famous artist.”
Lizzie leaned closer to Paloma. “Sneaking out tonight shows a lot of valor.”
“Thanks.” Paloma smiled. No one had ever called her brave before. Her friends back home in Kansas mostly called her grumpy face, worrywart, smarty-pants, and nosy butt, but never courageous. Still, Paloma was nervous about sneaking out of the house tonight. She couldn’t back out now. Not after Lizzie had just said she had courage.
“I don’t understand how we’re going to get into Casa Azul, though,” Paloma said. “I’m not cool with breaking in.”
“We won’t be breaking in exactly …” Lizzie said. “My mariachi band is practicing there tonight for Frida’s birthday celebration. When everyone leaves, I’m going to unlock the back door.”
“What about the security cameras? I saw they had some inside the exhibit space and museum. There’s no way I can get caught. My mom will freak out.”
Lizzie gave a slight shrug. “Those cameras are new and mostly just inside the museum right now. And the ones outside in the courtyard won’t get a good look at our faces if we wear a mask or hat.”
Paloma liked how confident Lizzie sounded. “I don’t really keep masks around, so I guess I can wear a baseball cap.”
“That will work.” Lizzie nodded. “Look, you just focus on climbing down the tree and getting to the front gate. We’ll worry about the rest.”
Paloma tugged on the medallion around her neck and looked back toward the kitchen, where her mom hummed the song that Gael and Lizzie had just performed. She had to admit, Lizzie’s reassurance calmed her.
“You know, since I’ll be at Tavo’s house tonight for dinner, I was thinking I could talk to him about the peacock ring. He knows some serious stuff about Frida. He might be able to help us. I can ask him.”
Gael and Lizz
ie both winced.
“It’s not a good idea to include Tavo,” Lizzie said. “If he tells his father about what we’re doing, his parents will take it over.”
“It’s true,” Gael added. “His parents are very involved with the museum. We have to keep this between us. You understand, right?”
Paloma knew they were right. They couldn’t afford to let the parents or any adult get involved. How many times had Lulu Pennywhistle had her cases sabotaged by some know-it-all adult brandishing a fancy “detective” badge? Or a police investigator who thought he was smarter just because he was older than Lulu and had fancy credentials framed on his wall?
“Don’t worry. I know how to keep a secret,” Paloma answered, and pretended to zip her lips. Gael and Lizzie seemed satisfied with that.
“I hear Tavo has a big house with a pool and lots of fancy art on the walls. It’s like a museum! You should definitely plan to take lots of pictures,” Lizzie said just as Paloma’s mom showed up at the table with a tray of warm croissants and chopped papaya. “What time is your dinner tonight?”
“Mr. Farill has arranged for a driver to pick us up here at the house at six,” Paloma’s mom said, scooping a spoonful of papaya onto Lizzie’s plate. “So we can’t be late, Paloma.”
“You say that like I’m always late.” Paloma scowled.
“You are. There’s always a flower to pin in your hair at the last minute or a change of shoes or the wrong scarf holding you up,” her mom said while Gael and Lizzie chuckled.
“Sí, Paloma. You can’t be late tonight,” Gael said with an amused grin. “It’s an important night.”
Paloma knew he wasn’t talking about the dinner.
The gray BMW arrived outside their home at six. Paloma wore a denim shirt with white pants, and a pair of sandals. She pinned a yellow flower in her hair. As they drove to the Farills’ house, they passed a hundred small homes until bigger homes surrounded with high iron gates appeared.
When they finally reached Tavo’s neighborhood, they stopped at a security checkpoint, where one officer collected the driver’s ID and another scanned under the car and inside the trunk with a long wand. Paloma had never been to a neighborhood where visitors had to pass through a checkpoint. Airport security was easier to get through! Paloma was ready to hand over her purse and shoes for inspection, when the guards waved them through another set of gates.
Me, Frida, and the Secret of the Peacock Ring Page 6