by Ben Zackheim
"They're going to get lazy on this one," I say. She glares at me. "I know it. So many signs point to him. But I don't think he did it."
"What kind of signs?" Dad asks, getting into the swing of things.
"He had a thing with Ms. Conway, but it's over. He's still trying to win her back. She wants to retire to the beach. They both have the same picture of a beach on their desks. Thirty thousand isn't enough to retire, but it's good for a down payment on a beach house. Also, he's broke. If I were lazy I'd say he has the means and the motivation."
"Don't call the police lazy, young lady," Mom seethes.
"I'm not! I'm saying they may take the most logical path in this case even though it ignores the missing safe."
"The whole safe is missing?" Dad asks. He leans forward like he's watching a good movie.
"Yeah, half a ton of safe. And there's no clear way to get the safe out of there. I thought hydroxide to melt it, or a plasma torch to dismantle it, but I researched the safe and it's way too tough for that. The point is, if Mr. Reese wanted the money he wouldn't have taken the safe too."
"If he knew the combination then he might have removed the safe so it appears that the crook didn't know the combination," Mom says.
"Maybe, but we could go back and forth on Mr. Reese all night. But the answer to the puzzle isn't in deciphering Mr. Reese. If we find out how the safe was removed, we find the bad guy. I'm going after the safe, not Mr. Reese."
"You're not going after anyone, young lady. We had a hard enough time keeping the media from covering your shenanigans on the museum robbery. I'll not have you become a young celebrity. When you're in college you can do whatever you want. But while you're here, you'll do what I say."
"Fine, Mom," I say. She doesn't believe me. Dad is still soaking it all in, but he won't believe me either once he catches up.
"Talk to your daughter. I have to go," Mom says.
We watch her leave. Dad looks at me and smiles. "The robber could be dangerous. You don't know what you're up against. If you used that head of yours to weigh the risk, you'd let the pros do their job."
Good points. Mom gave me intuition. Dad gave me the logic. Whoever the thief is, they may have their eyes on me. I have my pepper spray but I'm not under the illusion it would help me in a surprise attack, or if someone had a gun.
I don't say anything. If I did then I'd just extend the discussion. That would increase the odds I get my mind changed for me. I clear the table, give Dad a kiss goodnight and head upstairs.
In my bedroom I resist the Xbox 360 and open my History book. The case has prevented me from getting my homework done during my study periods.
I'd rather be playing Gears of War 3. I like to study the artificial intelligence of my virtual enemies. One day I hope to create the best AI ever seen in a game. I want it to be terrifying. I picture Wylie playing my first game and running from the house, screaming. That makes me smile.
Speaking of terrifying...
There's someone outside my window. Are they watching me? They're standing just outside the street light's beam.
My side of the street.
About 15 yards away.
The figure lingers. I walk to the window. Suddenly it retreats into the darkness. I throw the window open to get a better look but whoever it was is gone.
I sneak to the front door and slip outside. I stand where he/she stood. Whoever it was is only a tad taller than I am. I stand on my tiptoes. He/she would have seen my moment of yearning for video games.
But why come here? There can only be one reason. To scare me off.
The bad guy doesn't know me very well.
Back in my room, I prop a web cam on the windowsill and draw the blinds. Maybe I can snag a pic if the creep comes back.
Remember to focus on the safe. Follow the safe and the culprit will emerge.
But it's hard to focus when the culprit knows where you live.
Chapter 8: A Long Night
I can't study. I can't sleep. I lay awake looking at a map in my mind's eye. The map draws itself in my vision, overlapping the flowery, little-girl wallpaper that my parents refuse to replace.
This is what I do when I'm thinking. I draw lines where they beg to be seen. Right now, it's hard to filter out all of the Mr.-Reese-hearts-Ms.-Conway noise. The fact that they're both struggling with something in the midst of a crime may just be bad luck. They both strike me as rich in bad luck. But all signs point to them being caught up in this mess somehow. How, exactly, I'm just not sure yet.
I conclude that I really need to expand my suspect list. I can't find the thief by only looking inside the school. I have to look...
...Outside. Follow the safe. Of course. Follow the safe. Where would a safe go? Where could the thief hide half a ton of metal without being seen?
I know what to do.
I call Wylie. I need him for this task. I'm going to let Marie do her nails and live the uncomplicated life of a 14 year old on a school night. I know Wylie can take it. He may only be 14 but he's seen it all. I've known him since he was a nine year old orphan.
He was picked up by my mom when he broke out of the halfway house and stole some candy because he was hungry. He was getting beat up a lot there, so he stayed in our home for a couple of months until a foster family took him in. When I look at Wylie I think about how strong and brave he is.
Even with all the bad stuff, he's funny and kind. He's loyal to a fault and fearless in defending what he loves. Sure, he's an awful student. But he's a good person.
"Can you get out?" I whisper on the phone.
"Only for something really cool," he whispers back.
"How about sneaking around school in the dark to find thirty thousand dollars?"
"Meet you at The Cupcake," he says, then hangs up.
"The Cupcake" is a billboard with a picture of a cupcake on it. It hangs by a thread over an old, abandoned bakery on Church Street. One chilly Fall day I spent a whole afternoon identifying the ideal spot in town where Wylie, Marie and I could leave our homes and meet unnoticed. If everyone follows my suggested paths to The Cupcake then we've taken the route least likely to have anyone else on it. You never know when that kind of planning will come in handy.
I beat Wylie there by 30 seconds. I watch him walk through a few street lamps' circles of light. He has his hands in his pockets and his sweatshirt's hood covers his face. It's only September but tonight is especially chilly.
"What's up?" Wylie asks.
"Follow me," I say. He does. He can only stand the silence for 12 seconds.
"Have you finally decided that I'm right?" he asks. "It's Reese and Conway. Has to be. They're all sneaking around and stuff. "
"We'll see."
"Where are we going?"
I smile. "You'll see."
The school is dark on the inside and overlit on the outside. It's not an ideal environment to sneak around.
Wylie takes a picture with his cell.
"What are you doing?" I ask.
"Gathering evidence," he says, enjoying the fact that he's irritating me.
"There's no evidence yet. But let's head to the shop."
We climb the chain link fence around the parking lot. We're on the edge of a beam of light and we make enough noise to get a few neighborhood dogs barking. We need to be smarter.
I lead Wylie to a small warehouse outside the main school building. It's where Shop is taught.
Locked.
I see a window about 10 feet above us. A horizontal sliding thing. Four feet by six feet. Standard Lowes or Home Depot. I doubt it's locked. But how do I get to it? As if he reads my mind, Wylie bends down near the wall. I climb up onto his shoulders and he heaves me up.
Wow, he's strong.
I barely keep my balance as I reach for the window. It slides open easily and I pull myself in.
I'm on the second floor of the building, which is storage space for the shop's materials. I pull out my pen light. The place is creepy at night. A weld
ing generator in the corner looks like a sitting person. Every squeak sounds like a footstep. I tell myself to calm down, tuck the flashlight away, and wrap my hand around the pepper spray.
I climb down the ladder. My footsteps echo.
I spot what I'm looking for.
I was afraid that too much time had passed but the thief got lazy. A pile of thick metal sheets leans against a wall. A few of them are covered in industrial gray paint. Others aren't.
Perfect. My thesis is right.
I know who the thief is now.
Wylie screams. I hear someone fall to the ground outside.
"Wylie?" I yell back. He doesn't answer. I want to open the door but whatever he's scared of is standing on the other side.
Yeah, the door's handle is jiggling.
Uh-oh. A key is being put in.
I scramble up the ladder as fast as I can.
A figure hurries into the shop. I can't make out who it is with the ski mask, but I know anyway. The crook starts to climb the ladder toward me. I shove some wood over the edge of the storage loft. I hear a high-pitched screech of pain. Bingo!
Suddenly, some car lights illuminate the darkness. My pursuer tears off through the door.
"Wylie!" I hear Marie yell. I peek out the window and see her kneeling over him, her mom's car nearby. She sees me. "He's been hit on the head. He's bleeding."
I slide the window open. "Call an ambulance," I shout and throw her the pepper spray. She catches it and looks around. Then she dials her cell.
It's not likely the thief will attack us now. We're on our guard. And Marie is on the phone with 911.
We have you now, creep. You'd better run.
Chapter 9: The Reveal
Marie knew where we were because Wylie is obsessed with Twitter. Every picture he takes is posted automatically. Of course, as usual, the pic he took was awful, had no context and looked as if he were standing on a running ostrich when he took it.
"So how did you find out where we were?" Wylie asks from his hospital bed. It's the morning after our run-in with the thief. Our nerves are still frazzled, but I think it's safe to say that we're enjoying this adventure. Concussions aside.
"She used the metadata on the picture, right?" I say.
"Yeah. Every pic you take has data attached to it. I got the time, date and exact coordinates of the pic." She glares at me. "I shouldn't have had to be checking Twitter to see what you two were up to."
"Sorry," I say.
"Never leave me behind again. Understand?" Marie growls.
"Yes ma'am," Wylie says, not nearly as jokey as he usually is.
"When do we find out who did it?" Marie asks.
"I deserve to know," Wylie whines. "I took a plank to the head for you!"
"I told Dirk Kane this morning. I'll tell you now. I'll tell the world in about 20 minutes."
"You told Dirk? Why would you tell the school quarterback?" Marie asks, disgusted.
"I need muscle with Wylie out of the picture."
I tell them who the thief is. Their mouths open before Marie claims that she knew it all along.
"We'd better get going, Marie. We don't want to be late for our show," I say.
***
We're late. When Marie and I get to school we run to the assembly hall. They're about to let everyone go for another normal day. The students are cracking their typical jokes and getting ready to leave for class.
"Shirley has something to say!" Marie yells. The room is silent. Some kids laugh. I hear someone say "So what?" followed by chuckles.
Dirk, the quarterback, looks at me like "It's about time" and I nod to him.
"Everyone sit," Mr. Reese says. He does it with a lot more force in his voice than we're used to. The kids sit. I stop where I am, near the back of the room. All eyes are on me.
I'm loving this far too much.
I make sure to make eye contact with Dirk and Marie. I told them to not look at the thief. We don't want to give anything away and cause a bigger scene.
"We recently had thirty thousand dollars stolen from the school safe." The student body murmurs and whispers. "I've determined who the thief is and he's in this room." The murmurs become gasps and nervous laughter. "I'm afraid the thief is our beloved janitor, Mike."
Someone squeals and eyes go wide.
Predictably, Mike makes a break for it. Dirk wraps his huge arms around him. Mr. Reese and some other adults surround him for insurance.
All eyes turn back to me.
"Mike came to me when I was asked to solve the mystery. He wanted to deflect blame from himself as quickly as possible. That was a good move, but he also revealed he was the person to put the safe in Mr. Reese's office."
At this point I decide that moving around the room is probably a good idea. It'll give me a certain air of authority. Fun!
"One thing has bugged me about this case from the start. Since a recent renovation of the principal's office, the safe was wider than any door or window in the room. It was impossible to get a half-ton safe out of the office and it was also impossible to tear it or burn it apart without taking half the office with it."
I turn to Sally Jordan. She's smart.
"Sally,if I told you I just saw a duck with horns, huge claws and a hippo tail, what would you tell me?"
She doesn't like being put on the spot. "I'd say you should see the school counselor."
"And?" I say, after waiting for the laughter to die down.
"And that you didn't see a duck."
"Exactly. The only conclusion we can make is that it's impossible that it was a safe."
The crowd of students whisper. Mike's face is filled with hate.
"I believe Mike intercepted Mr. Reese's order for the safe and delivered his own dummy safe instead. Mike did the best he could to make it look like the real thing. Oh, by the way Mr. Reese it looks like you got a bigger safe than you ordered because Mike isn't good with measurements."
Mike tries to break free from his captors, and growls in the process. I enjoy his anger. This bozo almost cost my favorite principal his job.
"So, Mike and his mythical team of safe installers didn't need to haul the safe into the office at all. He simply had to put the pieces together himself. The safe was only a shell that could be taken apart at any time by anyone who knew how. It was removed at the scene of the crime because it wasn't a safe at all. Mike simply broke it down. Then he wheeled it to the shop room where you'll find it right now, in several pieces.
"Mike made his situation worse by hitting Wylie on the head last night. Totally unnecessary because I'd already written the solution in my diary, which my mother would gladly read were I killed while doing my duties. Why Mike did it...I'll let him explain."
"Why do you think, you brat? I had that money coming to me after 12 years of putting up with you kids! You're all a bunch of parasites! See how many of you make it in the real world!"
Mrs. Gattis gives a small nod of approval to that sentiment but quickly puts on her serious face again when she sees me watching her.
Dirk and Mr. Reese tug Mike out the door while Mrs. White, an English teacher, follows them on her cell, no doubt calling 911.
In the silence left behind, I smile.
"Thanks for listening," I say.
Everyone (except Mrs. Gattis) applauds the show.
Chapter 10: Beautiful Friendship
With another difficult case wrapped up we get back to our homework. The three of us sit in our usual spot in the library. I acknowledge quiet congratulations from other students and even a couple of teachers. Mr. Brown changed my What I Did This Summer paper's grade from a D to an A.
It feels good to have my secret out in the open. I'm sure it'll come back to haunt me but, for now, I'll enjoy it.
"So where's the money?" Wylie asks me.
"It was deposited in five accounts around the area in bundles of $6,000. The police shouldn't have a hard time retrieving it."
"But I don't get the whole thing with Ms.
Conway and Mr. Reese. Are they going out or something?"
"They were. Not anymore. It was her decision from the looks of it. I believe they started to see each other after Mr. Reese allowed Ms. Conway to stay in the school in secret. She lost her home last year."
"So Mike wasn't lying about her being here at school during nights then," Marie says.
"No it was a clever cover. He knew that her suspicious activity could send me down the wrong path. I didn't follow his macguffin because all I had to do was check online and saw that her house was in foreclosure and going up for auction next month."
I spot Mr. Reese pass by Ms. Conway with a huffy look on his face. He knows when he's not wanted. She watches him pass, slightly disappointed. Marie and Wylie seem uncomfortable with the drama unwinding in front of us. I think they see a lot of their own indecisiveness in Mr. Reese and Ms. Conway.
So I decide to be irritating.
"What happens if you try to play a game of, say, tennis and one person always shows up without a racket?"
"That's a stupid question!" Marie says, knowing this is some kind of test.
"Is it?" I ask.
"Well, assuming you both WANT to play then not bringing a racket would mean you never get to play," she says, only catching the meaning near the end of her sentence, which is a whisper by the final word.
"Yeah. That's no fun, is it?"
They give me really irritated expressions. I give them a real smile.
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Shirley's adventures are also available in softcover:
Shirley Link & The Safe Case
Shirley Link & The Hot Comic
Shirley Link & The Treasure Chest
Shirley Link & The Black Cat
Plus, enjoy 100 new riddles in Shirley Link & The 100 Riddles!