Taffy Sinclair 005 - Blackmailed by Taffy Sinclair

by Betsy Haynes

  I didn't hear the bathroom door open until it was too late. I was already bending down, reaching out in front of me with the wallet in my hand. I dropped that wallet as if it were a red hot poker and spun around. I couldn't believe it. Standing in front of me with a nasty grin on her face was Taffy Sinclair.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Taffy didn't say a word. She walked right past me to a sink and ran a few drops of water over her hands. Then she pulled a paper towel out of the holder, dried her hands, and tossed the towel into the trash can as she headed for the door. Finally she stopped and looked back at me.

  "Is Wiggins keeping you after school for being tardy this morning?" she asked in her icky sweet voice.

  Before I could answer, she was gone. I stared at the door as it swung closed. My mouth was probably open. I couldn't believe what had just happened. Taffy Sinclair had caught me putting Wiggins's wallet beside the trash can. Why hadn't she said anything? Was it possible that she hadn't noticed what I was doing?

  Maybe she did see, but she didn't give herself away. Maybe she was telling Wiggins right this minute, or Mrs. Winchell, and maybe they were calling the police. That's probably what she was doing at school so late, anyway. She was hanging around, buttering up the teachers.

  My hands were shaking as I pushed open the door and peered into the hall. I wanted to get out of there before Wiggins and Mrs. Winchell and Taffy all came marching into the bathroom and found me and stopped me from leaving before the police arrived. Should I take the wallet with me? No. There wasn't anything I could do with it. If they searched me or gave me a lie detector test, they would know I had it, anyway.

  Luckily, the hall was empty. I slid out, looked around one more time, and dashed for the door. All the way home I kept glancing back over my shoulder and listening for sirens.

  When I reached my apartment building, I almost collapsed with relief. I had made it. I was safe. Mom wouldn't let anything happen to me. I would explain the whole thing to her, and she would know what to do. I looked at my watch as I unlocked our front door and went inside. It was a whole hour before she would be home from work. In the meantime, I needed to talk to my friends.

  Just then the phone rang. I grabbed it and said hello before I had time to consider that it might be the police. It wasn't. It was Beth.

  "Morgan! How did it go? Did you plant the wallet? This is the fourth time I've called. I didn't think you'd ever get home."

  "I planted the wallet," I said, "but I'm not sure how it went." Then I told her about Taffy Sinclair.

  Beth didn't say anything for a minute, which is really unusual for her. Then she let out a low whistle and said, "Gosh, Morgan. That's the pits."

  "Thanks for cheering me up. What do you think I should do?"

  "Have you talked to Christie yet? If Taffy went to Mrs. Winchell and told on you, Christie could find out."

  "Right," I said, even though I wasn't sure I wanted to know a thing like that. "But Mrs. Winchell probably isn't home from school yet."

  "Well, I'd better go now," said Beth. "My mom wants me to go to the store with her. Call me later. Okay?"

  "Sure," I said. I hung up the phone feeling lonely again. No matter how much my friends cared, there wasn't really anything they could do to help me. Still, I thought, maybe somebody will have a good idea.

  I dialed Melanie's number and listened while it rang. Finally someone answered. "Heh-wo." It was Jeffy, Melanie's four-year-old brother. I hated it when he answered.

  "Hi, Jeffy. This is Jana. May I speak to Melanie, please?"

  Jeffy didn't say anything. I waited for a minute, but he still didn't say anything. I knew why he was still on the phone, but I didn't feel like cooperating.

  "Jeffy! I told you that this is Jana. Now will you please call Melanie to the phone? This is important." Still no answer. I sighed. Jeffy loves to talk on the phone, and he won't ever call Melanie until you talk to him a little bit.

  I was getting angrier by the minute. "So what did you do today, Jeffy?" I asked impatiently.

  "I pwayed," he said slowly. "And I ate wunch . . . and watched Sesame Stweet . . . and . . ."

  "Great, Jeffy. It sounds like you had a terrific day. Now will you please call Melanie to the phone." Silence again. I tapped my foot. They ought to make it a crime to let little kids answer the phone, I thought. Crime. Good grief! I was just about to yell at Jeffy again when there was this ear-splitting crash. Jeffy had dropped the receiver. At least that meant he was finally calling Melanie to the phone.

  "Jana? Is that you?" asked Melanie a moment later. "I've been dying for you to call. Tell me what happened."

  I wanted to say that if she had been dying for me to call, then why wasn't she standing by the phone instead of letting Jeffy answer it? But I didn't. I told her about Taffy Sinclair.

  "You mean she saw you!" cried Melanie. "Oh, my gosh. That's terrible."

  Melanie was no help, either. In fact, she made me feel worse than Beth had. All she could do was moan and talk about how terrible the situation was. After the third "that's terrible," I said I had to go and hung up.

  But Katie was the worst. "Even if a judge decided you were guilty, you would probably get off with probation," she said matter-of-factly after I told her about Taffy Sinclair and how I thought Wiggins and Mrs. Winchell might have called the police.

  "JUDGE! GUILTY! PROBATION!" I shrieked. "Katie, how can you say a thing like that?"

  "You have to face the facts, Jana. Wiggins said she might call the police. And you know that by putting that wallet back, you just made yourself look guiltier than ever. So if Taffy Sinclair told what she saw after Wiggins had already asked the guilty party to come forward. Well . . ."

  I slammed the phone down without even saying good-bye. I didn't care if Katie got mad. Judge? Guilty? Probation? How could a thing like this be happening to me? I knew I had to call Christie and find out if Taffy really had told on me or not. I tried to reach for the phone, but my hand wouldn't budge. I couldn't lift it for anything, and I knew that even if I did, my fingers would refuse to dial her number.

  I'll have a snack first, I told myself. I wasn't sure I could swallow anything, but I went into the kitchen anyway. There was cold pizza in the fridge. The thought of eating it made my stomach turn. I poured myself a glass of milk instead and sat down at the table.

  I was sitting there, staring off into space, wondering if Mom would let me transfer to a school on the moon when I heard her key turn in the lock. She was home. I almost couldn't stand it. It was too good to be true.

  I raced into the living room to meet her at the door. I didn't want to wait another second to talk to her. But when she walked in, my heart nearly stopped. Her eyes were ablaze with anger.

  I gulped hard. "Mom?" I said. "What's the matter?" I didn't really want her to tell me because I probably knew already. The police. They had been called. And they had talked to Mom.

  "Sit down!" she said sharply as she stuffed her coat into the hall closet. "I just got a telephone call that I need to talk to you about."

  When I sat down, I couldn't feel the sofa cushions underneath me. I couldn't feel anything except my heart pounding in my chest. Although it was obvious that she was furious, her eyes were red, which meant that she had been crying. I wanted to cry, too. I wanted to tell her not to believe what the police said. Or what Wiggins said, or Mrs. Winchell. I hadn't stolen that wallet. I had never stolen anything in my life. But Mom was talking again.

  "It was your father," she said angrily.

  My father? I didn't understand. How could he know about Wiggins's wallet?

  She sighed and looked at her hands for a moment as if she were trying to compose herself.

  "Do you remember the call I got from him a few days ago?" she asked. This time her voice was calmer.

  I did, and I felt a sudden rush of relief. The call was not about the stolen wallet. It was from my father, who lives in Poughkeepsie, New York, and never comes to see me and has hardly ever written to
me since he and my mother were divorced when I was three. Mom says he really loves me. He's just embarrassed about his drinking problem, but I keep hoping that someday he'll change and we'll really get to know each other.

  "Sure," I said. "I remember. He said that he had lost his job again and that he might not be able to pay his rent and that he might need our help." Secretly I remembered that I had almost wished it would happen because Mom had said he might come to Bridgeport. That would mean I would get to see him after all these years. But I didn't say that to Mom. She had been too upset.

  Mom nodded sharply, and I could tell that she was getting angry once more. "Well, he called again this afternoon. And he said that he has to move out of his apartment next week if he doesn't get some money to pay the rent. And if that happens, he has no place to go! Of course he'll come here! Oh, Jana. How can he do this to us? He has no right! I just have a little bit of money saved, and we might need it if we had an emergency." She sighed. "But I guess I don't really have a choice, do I?"

  I shook my head. "You'd better send it to him. It'll be okay."

  She nodded and got up, heading for her room. Deep worry lines creased her face. As I watched her go, a million different thoughts jumbled in my mind. I couldn't tell her about Wiggins's wallet now. She had enough on her mind. I'd have to work that out all by myself.

  She hadn't mentioned Pink, but I knew she was thinking about him, too. Pink is the nickname of Wallace Pinkerton. He and Mom have been dating for ages. He took her to dinner at Ricardo's, the swankiest restaurant in Bridgeport, last Saturday night. He even bought her a diamond ring and asked her to marry him a few months ago. Mom said she needed a little more time to make a decision, and I'm glad. I really like Pink. I know Mom does, too. But I have a hard time thinking about him as a father. He seems more like a good friend. Anyway, I know it would be embarrassing for her to have her ex-husband show up when her boyfriend is around.

  I leaned back against the sofa and thought about my lather. I couldn't believe that he might actually have to come here. It could happen if he couldn't get another job and pay his own rent when it was due again. I felt a little guilty wanting him to come because of Pink and all, but if he did show up right here in Bridgeport, Connecticut, it would be the answer to my prayers. I shot up straight again. No, it wouldn't! It would be awful! What on earth would he think of me if I were accused of being a thief?

  I held my breath all evening waiting for the police to knock on the door, but they never did. I didn't tell Mom about my problem, either. How could I when she was so upset about my father? Finally, just before bedtime, I got up enough nerve to call Christie. Fortunately she answered the phone.

  "Mom hasn't said a word about Wiggins's wallet," she assured me after I had gone through my story about Taffy Sinclair for the fourth time. "I really don't think Taffy told on you."

  We talked a while and Christie finally convinced me that Taffy probably didn't notice that I had the wallet in my hand.

  "I'll bet she was too busy looking at herself in the mirror to notice anything," said Christie. "I'll also bet that if you just forget about it, it will all blow over. After all, you put it back where you found it, didn't you?"

  I felt a lot better. Maybe it will all blow over, I thought as I climbed into bed. But of course it didn't. Taffy was waiting for me the next day when I got to school.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  In the morning I felt a little more confident. After all, Christie was right. I had put the wallet back in the girls' bathroom where the custodian would find it and give it back to Wiggins. Since Taffy Sinclair hadn't told on me, she must not have seen me. I was safe. Then I saw Taffy standing beside the gate to the school ground, and I could tell by the look on her face that I WASN'T safe at all.

  "Come here, Jana." She wasn't even bothering to use her icky sweet voice this morning. "I have something IMPORTANT to talk to you about."

  "What do you want?" I demanded.

  "You'll find out, and so will the whole school if you don't come closer."

  I kicked a rock off the sidewalk and moved just close enough so that she wouldn't have to shout.

  "I said, what do you want?"

  Taffy smiled her nasty smile again. "I didn't tell," she said cheerfully.

  "What do you mean, you didn't tell?" I tried to keep the panic I was feeling from creeping into my voice, but I knew it did anyway.

  "About what you were doing in the girls' bathroom after school yesterday. Aren't you even going to say thank you?"

  "You listen to me, Taffy Sinclair. I didn't steal Wiggins's wallet. I found it. I found it in the girls' bathroom before school. When Wiggins said somebody stole it, I was afraid she'd think it was me. So I put it back where the custodian would find it when he cleaned up. That way I knew she'd get it back. You can think anything you want to, but that's the truth!"

  "So you confess!" she challenged gleefully. "You did have Wiggins's wallet all the time. You're the thief, and I'm the ONLY one who knows it."

  I stared at her, dumbfounded. She had tricked me. She had made me say that I had Wiggins's wallet, and now she was saying that I confessed. I thought I'd die. I almost wished she had told on me yesterday and the police had come to my apartment and taken me away. At least then I'd get a trial.

  Taffy started to walk away. Then she stopped for an instant and narrowed her eyes, looking at me with another one of her nasty looks. "I'll talk to you some more later," she said with a warning sound in her voice. "And like they say in the movies—don't leave town." She was laughing her head off when she turned away again.

  My knees felt wobbly as I hurried toward school. I could see my friends standing together near the front door. They had been watching Taffy and me, and I could tell that they were about to explode if they didn't find out what had been going on.

  "Do you know what I think?" asked Beth after I had repeated our conversation. "I think she's going to blackmail you."

  "Blackmail me?" I almost whispered the dreaded word. Only real criminals did something like that.

  "I think she is, too," said Katie. "Otherwise, she would have told on you yesterday. She had this planned from the very moment she saw you with that wallet in your hand."

  "But what if Wiggins already has her wallet back?" I protested. "The custodian should have found it and given it back to her already. Maybe she won't care who took it anymore."

  "Get serious," said Katie. "The money was gone from the wallet, right? She's going to want to know who the thief is as much as ever."

  "Okay, Jana," said Christie. "I think it's time you went to Wiggins and told her the whole story. You know we'll all back you up. We'll tell her that you showed us the wallet and told us what happened and that you were afraid she'd think you were a thief so you put it where it would be found. She would have to believe all of us."

  "Yeah," said Melanie. "We should have done that in the first place."

  When I didn't say anything for a few minutes, Katie frowned at me and said, "Well? Are you going to do it?"

  I shook my head. "It won't work," I said miserably.

  "Why not?" demanded Beth.

  "Because everybody, including Wiggins, knows what good friends we are and that we always stick up for each other. Besides, if Taffy decides to tell what she saw, then it will be our word against hers. And you know that Taffy has always been a teacher's pet. Wiggins would believe her in a minute before she'd believe us."

  "Couldn't you talk to your mom, Christie?" asked Melanie.

  "No. She makes a point of staying out of any trouble I'm involved in. She says it's not good policy and that the teachers would resent it if she stuck her nose into their business."

  At that moment every bit of confidence I ever had drained away, and a helpless feeling settled in its place. "So where does that leave me?" I pleaded.

  Everybody looked at me sympathetically, but no one had an answer.

  "I guess I don't have any choice," I said with a sigh. "I'll just have to wait and see
what happens next."

  What happened next was that Alexis Duvall came running up to us as we headed for our lockers.

  "Have you heard what Taffy Sinclair is saying?"

  I stopped dead still in my tracks. I tried to swallow, but I couldn't. I could tell that my friends were worried, too. Finally Melanie spoke up.

  "No, what? Not that any of us would believe anything she said anyway."

  "She says that she knows who the thief is and that maybe, just MAYBE, she'll tell. Can you believe that? There really is a thief in our room, and Taffy knows who it is!"

  You would have thought from the way Alexis was prancing around that someone had just told her there really was a Santa Claus. I tried to act excited. I also tried to think of something to say to Alexis that would make me look innocent. I couldn't think of a word. As usual, Beth could.

  "Come on, Duvall. You know Taffy. She's always trying to get attention. I'll bet she doesn't know any more about who stole Wiggins's wallet than you do." Then she put an arm around Alexis's shoulder and said in her best Dracula voice, "But if the thief turns out to be you—THEN I VILL BITE YOUR NECK!"

  Alexis broke up. She was laughing so hard she had to practically juggle her math book and her lunch to keep from dropping them. I felt a little better, but I still had to face Taffy again. She always got to the classroom early so that she could make points with Wiggins. Her desk was right up at the front by Wiggins's desk, and I had to walk past her to get to my seat. I crossed my fingers three times for luck and made a wish that she wouldn't point to me and tell Wiggins that I was the thief.

  Unfortunately I didn't really believe in stuff like crossing my fingers and making wishes, so I wasn't surprised when my friends and I entered the sixth-grade room and Taffy was already in her seat, watching kids come in. Wiggins was sitting at her desk marking something in her grade book; I couldn't tell if Taffy had said anything to her or not.

  "Good morning, Jana," Taffy said in an extra icky sweet voice. "Have you been in the girls' bathroom this morning . . . TO COMB YOUR HAIR?"