Stacey and the Mystery Money

by Ann M. Martin

  Kristy nodded. “Okay,” she replied. “I guess he’s right.”

  It’s important to know your clients when you’re baby-sitting. Most of our clients are regulars, so this isn’t usually a problem. But when the clients are new in town, we always ask someone to come to the door with us the first time, just to get a sense of what the family is like.

  Charlie pulled up in front of a tidy red house. “Thirty-five Reilly Lane,” he said. “I guess this is it.” He and Kristy stepped out of the car and walked to the front door. Kristy rang the bell.

  A girl answered it. A pretty girl with long, shiny brown hair in a braid down her back. Kristy noticed right away, she told me later, that this girl had gorgeous hazel eyes. “You must be Kristy,” the girl said, smiling shyly.

  “Yup,” replied Kristy. “Are you Tasha?”

  The girl nodded. Then she looked at Charlie and raised her eyebrows. “Is this your boyfriend?” she asked Kristy.

  “Oh, no!” exclaimed Kristy. “I’d never bring my boyfriend on a job. I mean, if I even had a boyfriend.” She blushed, thinking of this boy Bart she kind of likes. “This is my brother, Charlie. He just came to the door with me because — I mean, since I don’t know your family — I mean, he came to —”

  “To check us out?” asked Tasha.

  “Well, yes,” said Kristy.

  Charlie had been staring at Tasha. Obviously he thought she was something special. Now he blushed. “Uh, well,” he started to say.

  Just then Mr. and Mrs. Hoyt came into the room, and Tasha introduced everyone.

  “Nice to meet you, Kristy,” said Mrs. Hoyt. “I’ve heard such good things about your baby-sitting club.”

  “Thank you,” replied Kristy.

  Mr. Hoyt checked his watch. “We’re going to be late for the concert if we don’t get started soon,” he said. “All ready to go, Tasha?”

  Kristy turned to Charlie as the Hoyts were talking, and nodded toward the door. She was trying to let him know that she felt fine about the Hoyts and that he should leave. But Charlie was still staring at Tasha. Finally Kristy nudged him with her elbow. “Don’t you have to be going?” she asked him.

  “Oh, right. Well, have fun at your concert,” he said to Tasha.

  “Thanks,” she said. “I’m looking forward to it. Especially since Dad is coming. He usually misses these things because of his job.”

  “Tasha!” said her father sharply. “Please go tell Terry and Georgie that we’re going.”

  Tasha headed upstairs, and Charlie said his good-byes and left. Mrs. Hoyt took Kristy into the kitchen and showed her where she’d left important information for Kristy. “It’s not often that Mr. Hoyt and I get to go out with the twins,” she said, “so this is a special event. We’ll probably stop for some dessert afterwards, but we won’t be too late.”

  “That’s fine,” said Kristy.

  “Oh, here’s Georgie,” said Mrs. Hoyt.

  Kristy turned around and saw a little boy with familiar-looking brown hair and hazel eyes. He wore big, horn-rimmed glasses, and he was very skinny. She figured he was about seven years old. “Hi, Georgie,” she said. “I’m Kristy. How are you?”

  “Fine,” he answered shyly.

  “I have a little brother who’s seven. I wonder if you’re in his grade?” she said.

  “I’m seven and a half,” Georgie replied, very seriously.

  “Maybe you’re in the same class as my brother,” Kristy went on. “His name is David Michael.”

  Georgie shook his head. “I don’t really know anybody here yet,” he said.

  Mrs. Hoyt was bustling around getting food out of the refrigerator. “Here’s some salad you two can eat,” she said, “and some leftover lasagna. I’ll just put this in the oven to heat up, and then we’d better be off.”

  Kristy met Terry as the Hoyts were leaving. She told me later that she thought he was really cute, but not her type. “Too shy,” she said. “He barely said hello to me, even though I tried to be friendly.”

  Soon Kristy and Georgie were sitting down to dinner together at the kitchen table. Kristy decided Georgie was one of the quietest kids she’d ever met. She decided to find out about his interests. “So,” she said. “Do you like to play softball?” She was wondering if she should ask him to join the Krushers, the team she coaches.

  “I love it!” he said, looking enthusiastic for the first time.

  “Great. There’s this team you could probably join, if you’d like to.”

  His face closed up again. “I’m not allowed to play on teams,” he said. “Dad says they take up too much time and that I’m better off at home doing my homework and stuff.”

  Kristy raised her eyebrows. That seemed a little strict to her. She took a few more bites of lasagna and searched for another topic of conversation. “How long have you been wearing glasses?” she finally asked.

  “I got them about a year ago,” Georgie said. “One day I was walking along and I thought I saw a big goose standing by our mailbox. It turned out to be a huge white rock. That’s when I knew I needed glasses.”

  “Oh,” said Kristy. “Where were you living then?”

  “In Iowa,” he said. “No — in Oregon. Sometimes I get mixed up.”

  “Has your family moved a lot?” Kristy asked.

  Georgie nodded. Then he shook his head. “Not that much,” he said. “Can I have some more salad?”

  Kristy thought for a second that he felt uncomfortable with the subject and was trying to change it. But that seemed silly. “Sure,” she said, passing the bowl. “Do you like to read?” she asked.

  “Oh, yes! Want to see all my books?”

  They cleared the table and cleaned up the kitchen, and then Georgie led Kristy upstairs to his room. Kristy noticed moving boxes piled in the hallways, and when she reached Georgie’s room she found that most of his books were still packed away, too. He opened a carton and started to rummage through it.

  “How long has your family lived here?” Kristy asked. It seemed as if the Hoyts hadn’t unpacked much beyond the bare necessities.

  Georgie thought for a moment. “About three weeks,” he said.

  Three weeks? And they still weren’t unpacked? The Hoyts must be a busy family.

  Georgie pulled out a book. “This is my favorite,” he said. “Tintin. I have twelve Tintin books.” He settled down to look at it, leaning against his bed. Kristy sat down next to him with one of the other Tintin books, and they spent some time reading quietly.

  After awhile, Kristy closed her book. “Hey, your mother told me she left some brownies for us,” she said. “Want to go downstairs and get some?”

  “Sure,” Georgie replied, putting down his book.

  Back in the kitchen, Kristy found the brownies and poured two glasses of milk. Then she and Georgie headed for the family room. It was full of boxes, too, but there was a comfortable couch. They sat down to eat brownies and watch TV. “Do you have a VCR?” Kristy asked, thinking that she could bring over a movie the next time she baby-sat.

  Georgie shook his head. “Dad never wants to join at the video stores. He says it’s too expensive and that movies are a waste of time, anyway.”

  Kristy thought Mr. Hoyt sounded more and more strict all the time. But Georgie didn’t seem to miss having a VCR. He watched Wheel of Fortune happily, munching on his brownies. Then, just as a guest was about to win a ton of money, the phone rang.

  Kristy jumped up and ran to the kitchen to answer it, thinking it might be Mrs. Hoyt checking in. But it was me, calling to tell her what had happened that afternoon. “Wow!” said Kristy. “So there really are counterfeiters in Stoneybrook.” I gave her the details about my ordeal at the police station. Kristy was spellbound. Then, suddenly, she heard a cry from the family room.

  “Kristy!” called Georgie. “I spilled my milk!”

  “Gotta go,” Kristy told me. She hung up and looked around for a mop. There wasn’t one in sight, so she opened the door to the basement. No m
op hanging there, either. She ran down the hall to a closet she’d noticed before, and was just about to open it when Georgie darted out of the family room.

  “No!” he said. “Don’t open that.”

  Kristy stared at him. “I can’t open this closet?” she asked, not quite understanding.

  “Right,” he said. “It’s — it’s full of stuff,” he said lamely. “It might fall out.”

  “Well, okay,” replied Kristy. “But I’m trying to find a mop. Do you know where one is?”

  “It’s all right,” said Georgie. “It’s just a little puddle. Most of it already got soaked into the couch. We can use paper towels.”

  Kristy sighed. She knew that the Hoyts wouldn’t be crazy about milk soaking into their couch, but there wasn’t much she could do about it now. They cleaned up the mess together, and by then it was time for Georgie to get ready for bed.

  He changed into his pajamas and climbed into bed, and Kristy read him a story out of one of his Tintin books. Soon his eyelids were drooping. “Kristy?” he said sleepily, just as she was closing the book.

  “Yes, Georgie?”

  “I think I like Stoneybrook,” said Georgie. “And you’re a nice baby-sitter.”

  Kristy smiled. “Thanks. Now go to sleep, okay?” She tiptoed to the door and switched off the light. His breathing became deep and regular before she had even left the room.

  Kristy headed downstairs. She couldn’t resist calling me, to hear more details about my day. I told her everything as quickly as I could, knowing we shouldn’t tie up the Hoyts’ line. It was then that we decided the BSC should meet the next day, just to talk some more.

  After Kristy hung up, she wandered around the house tidying up a little. There was a little desk in a corner of the living room, and she noticed some papers on the floor underneath it, so she bent to pick them up. “I wasn’t snooping, I swear,” she told me later. But she was surprised and confused by what she saw when she reached for the last envelope. Sticking out of it was a photo ID from a junior high in Oregon. The picture on it looked just like Tasha, but the name beneath the face read “Tina Harris” instead of Tasha Hoyt. Kristy stuffed it back into the envelope, threw it on the desk, and tried to forget about it. After all, it was none of her business. Was it? Anyway, she was too interested in me and my day at the police station to spend much time thinking about the Hoyts.

  “But I didn’t do it!” I cried. “I’m innocent, I swear!” I didn’t even know what I’d been accused of, but it was clearly something terrible. A man in a black uniform was marching me down a long, dark hallway, and I was wearing handcuffs and leg chains.

  I saw faces staring at me as I was led past the many windows that were set into the walls. Claudia, looking very sad. My math teacher, Mr. Zizmore, looking puzzled. Charlotte, with tears rolling down her face.

  “I want to talk to a lawyer,” I said. “I want to talk to my mommy!”

  But the man just kept marching, and soon we were standing in front of a huge steel door. He pushed a button and the door swung open. We walked through it, and it slammed shut behind us with an awful bang that seemed to echo forever. The next hallway was even darker than the first, and there were no windows and no faces to be seen. Then we walked through another door, and another, and another. Each one slammed shut behind us with a bang that sounded very final. Bang, bang, bang, went the doors. I was never going to get out of that awful place. Bang, bang, bang!

  “Stacey, wake up!” my mother said, shaking me. “I’ve been knocking on your door for the last five minutes.”

  I sat up with a start. “You mean it was all just a dream?” I asked. “Oh, Mom!” I threw my arms around her.

  “Did you have a nightmare, hon?” My mother patted my back. “Well, it’s all right now. Except for the fact that it’s almost ten-thirty. Weren’t you planning to go to Claudia’s this morning for a meeting?”

  “Oh, my lord!” I said. “Is it really that late?” I’d had trouble falling asleep the night before, mainly because I kept thinking about that scene at the police station. But once I finally fell asleep, I must have slept like a log. I rubbed my eyes and stretched, trying to get used to the idea that I wasn’t going to rot in some dungeon after all. Aren’t nightmares the worst? Especially the ones that feel so real.

  I got up and dressed quickly. Then I headed downstairs, gulped down some toast and juice, and set out for Claudia’s house. We’d agreed to meet there at eleven.

  When I arrived, everyone else was already there. Claudia was sitting on her bed, still wearing her tie-dyed pajamas. Mary Anne and Dawn sat on either side of her. Kristy was in her usual spot in the director’s chair, but for once she didn’t have a pencil tucked over her ear. Since this wasn’t a regular BSC meeting, I guess she didn’t feel she was going to need it. Shannon sat cross-legged on the floor, and next to her were Jessi and Mal.

  I had heard them all talking as I ran up the stairs, but when I came in they suddenly stopped. Everyone looked up at me expectantly. “Uh, hi, guys,” I said, not knowing what else to say.

  “Morning, Stace,” said Claudia. “How’s our counterfeiter today?” She grinned.

  I frowned. “I’m not a counterfeiter,” I protested.

  “We know,” said Kristy, giving Claud a Look. “But I sure hope our clients don’t hear about this.”

  “What do you mean?” I asked.

  “Well, I’ve been thinking about it,” she said. “This could hurt the club’s reputation if it got out. That one of us was passing fake bills, I mean.”

  I started to say something, but Kristy held up her hand. “I know you didn’t do it on purpose. We all know that. But you know how rumors can spread, right?”

  I felt terrible. How did I get into this mess? All I did was try to buy a stupid pair of earrings. Suddenly I hated those earrings. How could I have ever thought they were pretty? “I’m sorry,” I said miserably.

  “Don’t be sorry,” said Mary Anne. She looked upset. She can’t stand to see anybody unhappy. “It’s not your fault, and I think Kristy’s being kind of mean.”

  “I agree that it’s not Stacey’s fault,” said Dawn. “But I think Kristy has a point. Our clients have to trust us completely, and if they have any doubts it may hurt our business.”

  The room was quiet for a moment. Then Jessi spoke up. “You know what this reminds me of?” she said. “That time with Mrs. Gardella’s ring.”

  “Oh, no!” said Claud, putting her hand over her mouth. “You’re right! And that was poor Stacey, too. First she gets accused of being a thief, and now she gets dragged down to the police station for questioning in a counterfeiting case!”

  I hung my head. Somehow I’d forgotten about that business with the Gardellas. It didn’t seem fair that these things kept happening to me. Jessi and Claud were talking about this time not too long ago when I was sitting for a new client. The morning after my job, the client had called to say that her diamond ring was missing. She basically accused me of stealing it! Of course, I hadn’t. Fortunately, we managed to straighten out the mess.

  “That was different, though,” said Mallory thoughtfully. “I mean, Mrs. Gardella was threatening to tell all our other clients that Stacey was a thief. This time, who’s going to tell?”

  “Well, Dr. Johanssen knows about it,” said Kristy.

  “She’d never spread gossip about something like this!” I said.

  “No way!” Claud agreed.

  “What about Mrs. Hemphill?” asked Dawn.

  We just looked at each other. Everybody knows that Mrs. Hemphill loves to talk. The story was probably all over Stoneybrook by now.

  “Oh, no,” I groaned.

  “Okay, look,” said Kristy. “We know Stacey didn’t do anything wrong. But who knows what other people might think? We have to take action. I hereby move that we do everything we can to solve this mystery.”

  “Yay!” said Mallory with a huge smile. “I was hoping you’d say that. I, personally, am so excited to know th
at there are counterfeiters in Stoneybrook. I mean, I’m sorry you got mixed up in this, Stacey, but isn’t it just like a Nancy Drew book or something?”

  “Exactly,” said Claud. “I know what you mean. I’ve been dying to figure out a way to catch these crooks.” She reached under her pillow and pulled out some red licorice. “Anybody want some? Suddenly I feel hungry.” She pulled off a strip and passed the package around.

  “But we don’t know anything about counterfeiting!” said Shannon. “How are we going to find out who’s doing it?”

  “We could learn about it,” I said. “I bet there’s information about it at the library. And anyway, we know a little bit, don’t we?”

  “Sure,” said Kristy, absently taking a bite out of a licorice strip. “Ugh,” she added, “it’s too early in the day for junk food.” She put it down. “I mean, we know that these people are printing money, right? So they have to have some kind of printing press, and they must need supplies for it.”

  “So we find out where they sell printing supplies, and stake out the place!” Mallory said.

  “Also, we have to keep our eyes out for people who are suddenly spending lots of money. I mean, like, gobs of cash,” said Dawn.

  “So maybe we should stake out the Cadillac dealership,” said Jessi. “Isn’t that the first thing crooks do? Buy a flashy car?”

  “Hmm …” said Dawn. “I was thinking more about just hanging out at the mall and checking out who’s buying jewelry and stuff.” Jessi’s face fell. “But a car place is probably a good idea, too,” Dawn added quickly.

  “Maybe we should stake out banks,” said Shannon. “To see if anyone is making big deposits.”

  “Don’t you think a crook would just keep it under his mattress or something?” I asked.

  “Well, maybe,” she admitted. “But you never know.”

  “Stacey,” Mary Anne said, “what did that bill feel like, anyway? I mean, I want to know it if I have a fake bill.”

  “I swear I couldn’t tell the difference,” I said. “It seemed fine to me, or else I wouldn’t have tried to use it.”