Madeleine let out a big huff. “This is stupid. We’re not going to find anything standing around like this.”
CindeeRae shushed her, and I said, “All good detectives have to research before they catch the bad guys.”
Madeleine didn’t argue, and we studied the information for a bit longer, our heads cocking back and forth. CindeeRae bent over and picked up the receipt. She held it close to her face and then far away as she ogled it. “It looks like someone wrote on this.”
Madeleine snatched it from CindeeRae’s fingers, studying the receipt with one eye closed. “She’s right. There’s handwriting on it, but someone’s erased it or something.”
March had stopped typing to watch us.
“I don’t think anyone wrote on it,” I said, “at least not on the receipt.” I walked over to March and reached around him to rummage through his top desk drawer. Grabbing a pencil and a scrap of paper, I walked back to where Madeleine stood holding the receipt. “Someone probably wrote something down on another piece of paper that was on top of the receipt, and it left an indentation.”
I took the receipt and walked back to the desk, laid it under a scrap of paper, and scribbled on top with the long edge of a pencil lead. I turned it so they could all see; the pencil had shaded everything except the writing on the receipt, which looked like it was in another language.
“Turn the receipt around,” CindeeRae said. “It’s backward.”
I turned the receipt upside down, covered it with the blank corner of scrap paper, and shaded it again with the pencil. They had moved to the desk, where they hovered around me as I worked, two words slowly appearing on the edge of the receipt:
DICKINSON STREET
I dropped the pencil onto March’s desktop while he leaped from his seat to do a victory dance, which looked a lot like the Funky Chicken.
CindeeRae eyed him. “It’s just a street name, not a full address. And is there even a Dickinson Street in Denver?”
“Let’s see.” March’s arms stopped flapping and he slid back into his desk chair and pulled up a mapping application on his computer screen. As he typed in the street name, we all leaned over him like we were about to discover the secret of the universe.
Someone barged into the room and slammed the door against the doorstep, the spring thwanging. We jumped.
Mason stood at the base of the bunk bed, frozen. “Hi,” he said, his hands fidgeting in front of him while he slowly backed toward the door. He held a thin red rope that pooled at his feet. “I didn’t know…everyone was here.”
My heart pattered in my chest, and CindeeRae bent over like she had just finished a marathon.
“Get out, Mase,” March snapped. “We’re busy.”
“Sheesh, March,” I said. “Hey, Mason, it’s no big deal.”
“Hey, Kazu,” he said, before zipping out the door and slamming it.
Madeleine crowded behind us to look at the computer screen, and I imagined a dark shadow falling over us all as she did.
“Well?” She talked to March like he was a waiter late with her food. “Is there a Dickinson Street in Denver?”
March tossed a glare over his shoulder at Madeleine before pointing at his screen. “Yep. There it is.”
A thick yellow line seemed to split the entire map of Denver in two.
“What are we waiting for?” Madeleine asked. “Let’s go.”
“Go where?” I said. “Do you see how long that street is? Without an address, we have nothing.”
Madeleine sighed with such force, it sounded more like a growl. “You guys aren’t very good at this.”
“Look,” I said. “Searching for clues sometimes takes a lot of time. And if you don’t have the patience, you should probably leave now.”
“Yeah!” CindeeRae added.
We stood there as the awkward silence settled over us.
Madeleine’s voice cut through the quiet, only it was softer, almost apologetic. “What do we do next?”
I nodded, thinking. “Let’s divide up the clues and study them tonight.” I gathered the papers into a stack so March could take them to his mom’s office and make copies. “Maybe one of us will see something new.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
I had laid the copies out on my bedroom floor, picking up each piece and studying it upside down, hoping to uncover a case-cracking clue. Genki sat at attention by my door, as if on lookout, although he probably just needed to pee. I ignored him while I moved from one piece of information to the next.
When I got to the receipt, Mom burst into my bedroom, and Genki dashed through the open door.
“Could you please put the dishes away?” she asked, looking from me to the floor. She took one large step to tower over my work, scooped up a handful of papers, and shuffled through them, the crease between her eyebrows deepening with each sheet. I was pretty sure she had already forgotten about the dishes. “What is this?” She shook the stack of papers at me.
“My notes on the case,” I said.
“Do you realize how dangerous this is?” Even though it was a question, I knew better than to answer. “Your father and I told you to stop this, this snooping. A policeman told you to stop snooping. But here you are…snooping!”
Luckily March and CindeeRae were reviewing the printouts from the hack, which left me and Madeleine with newspaper articles, Sleuth Chronicle notes, and the Crowley information I had found online. Still, Mom was not happy about it. I tried to stay calm and think through my response so that she could understand why detecting meant so much to me. But her face, twisted in disappointment, seemed to draw out all my emotions.
“I think this is important. You wouldn’t be mad about it if you thought it was important, too,” I said. “If you even tried to understand you would see that I want to find the dogs so they can go home.”
“You’re only eleven.” She mumbled more to herself than me. “What are you thinking?”
As if she were saving the printouts from a gust of wind, Mom scrambled to pick up the rest, snatching the Sleuth Chronicle last. She hastily shoved the loose sheets into the middle of the journal. “You are done with this.” Her voice was even, her eyes hardening. “If I see or hear one more word about investigating or detecting, you might never see the sun again.”
Even I could tell when parents exaggerated to make a point, but in that moment, I believed her. Snatching the receipt from my hand, she turned on her heels and marched out the door, slamming it behind her before Genki had a chance to slip back into my room.
March, CindeeRae, and I huddled on one of the benches lining the playground while Madeleine stood to the side, trying to edge closer to the group. Everyone held a file of clues, except me.
“You’re grounded?” CindeeRae asked.
“Kinda?” It shouldn’t have been a question, but it still came out as one. “From investigating?” I couldn’t help it.
“I don’t like this, Kazu,” March said. “Your mom has never taken away your Sleuth Chronicle before.”
I slumped against the bench, my lower back pushing into the wood. “I know. She’s really mad at me.”
“So that’s it?” Madeleine waved her folder like she was swatting away flies. “We’re just stopping the investigation like that?” She said it like she had been slaving over the case all year.
March shot her a look. Madeleine turned her nose up.
“No,” I said, even though my heart slowly deflated as I imagined them detecting without me. “You guys should definitely keep investigating.” Barkley and Lobster and Lenny needed help, even if I wasn’t going to be the one to give it.
Catelyn Monsen and another one of Madeleine’s soccer friends passed our group, eyeing us like we were a herd of mythical creatures. It was their second lap around the playground.
Madeleine didn’t seem to notice. “Sounds good to me,” she said. “Did anyone find anything in their search last night?”
March and CindeeRae shook their heads.
“I didn’t understand half this stuff.” Pushing her way onto the edge of the bench, Madeleine practically sat on top of me, and I scooted over to give her room. She splayed the file folder on her lap. Maybe I wouldn’t miss out on any more detecting; maybe we had finally reached a dead end.
Madeleine rambled on and on as she thumbed through her papers, talking about what everyone already knew about the case. When her copy of the receipt slipped from the folder and fell to the ground, I remembered what I had noticed the night before. I plucked up the sheet and studied it again. “Where do your parents buy dog food?”
“King Soopers on the other side of Federal,” CindeeRae answered. “It’s, like, two minutes away.”
“Mine too,” Madeleine agreed.
“I think it’s the closest store to our neighborhood,” I said. “So why would Crowley go to a King Soopers in the opposite direction? On Forty-Third Avenue?” I pointed to the address on the receipt: 5302 W. 43rd Avenue.
“Because he was visiting someone—” Madeleine was not following my train of thought.
March interrupted her, “Because it’s closer to doggie-holding headquarters.”
“Exactly!” I said.
“Great.” Madeleine slumped back against the bench next to me. “So we know he got dog food at another King Soopers. How does that help us?”
I leaned forward, looking at each of them as I asked, “What if the address of doggie-holding headquarters is close to where Dickinson Street and Forty-Third Avenue intersect?”
CindeeRae’s eyes lit up.
“Does anyone have a phone?” March asked. “Let’s look it up.”
Madeleine took her phone from her back pocket, finally catching on. She punched at the screen and gaped for a second. “You won’t believe this.” She waved her phone as if it were a wand. “The intersection of Dickinson Street and Forty-Third Avenue is where Magic Planet is.”
Magic Planet was an abandoned amusement park downtown, about fifteen miles from Lakeview Park. It would take thirty minutes to get there on bike.
“That’s it, right?” CindeeRae asked. “Magic Planet must be where they’re keeping the missing dogs.”
“It’s unlikely,” March said. “Those two things are probably not even related.”
“Maybe,” I said. “Maybe not. But there’s a chance that they might be, right? Either way, we don’t have anything else to go on—”
“Plus,” Madeleine interrupted, “Magic Planet would be a great place to hold the dogs. It makes sense.”
I had gone to Magic Planet when I was seven—the last year it’d been open—although I couldn’t really remember it. Dad talked me into riding the Jack Rabbit, a rickety roller coaster that looked like a white toothpick tower from far away. After passing through a tunnel shaped like a mine shaft, I decided it was easiest not to see where we were going, and I kept my eyes closed the rest of the way. As Madeleine, March, and CindeeRae argued whether or not they should visit Magic Planet that afternoon, I felt like I had reached the same place in the case; I wanted to close my eyes the rest of the way.
Suddenly I realized everyone had stopped talking to look at me. “So,” March said. “Are you coming with us?”
I remembered Mom’s face when she grabbed my Sleuth Chronicle, contorted with disappointment and anger. “I’m not allowed.”
“You’re not allowed to go on a bike ride?” Madeleine flipped through the pages in her folder without looking at them. “Because when you told us what happened, it didn’t sound like you were grounded from bike rides with friends.”
Catelyn and the girl passed again, and this time Madeleine saw them. “Should we meet at March’s house after school?” she asked quickly, directing the question to March and CindeeRae. Had I lost my place on the team already, replaced by Lenny’s best friend? My stomach twisted as I watched them.
“Yes!” CindeeRae’s eyes seemed to hold a Lobster-shaped reflection.
“I don’t know, guys.” March looked at me, and I knew he didn’t want to do any detecting without me.
“See you after school,” Madeleine called over her shoulder, not waiting for March to deliberate. She ran to catch up with her friends.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
After school I dropped my backpack in the entryway and kicked off my shoes. Mom stood at the kitchen counter folding a basket of laundry; she startled when I shut the door behind me.
“What are you doing here?” she asked. “Are you grabbing your bike?”
“I live here?” Not wanting to make Mom any angrier than she had been the night before, I plastered the sweetest of smiles on my face.
“No, I mean…” She walked around the counter toward me, and the moment felt very déjà vu, except my Velma costume was in my closet upstairs and not a surprise waiting for me on the bench. “Madeleine Brown called and invited you on a bike ride. I assumed you would grab your bike from the garage and go.”
I searched Mom’s face for a trace of last night’s rage, but she looked perfectly calm. “I thought I was grounded?” I asked.
My mind whirled with more questions than that. Why had Madeleine Brown gone through the trouble of calling Mom so I could join this mission? Did she want me there since I had been the one to get her on the team, or did she finally appreciate my detecting expertise? That last idea made me smile.
“Sweetie.” Mom busied herself by sorting through the mail stacked in the cubby by the door, pulling out envelopes and tucking them under one arm. “I don’t want you to stop playing with your friends. And I think it’s wonderful that you’re making new ones.” She stopped and looked at me. “What I don’t want, however, is you nosing around in police business. I appreciate your curiosity and passion, but it’s become dangerous and could get you and March hurt.”
I nodded, not trusting myself to say anything. Madeleine’s cover was good, obviously convincing, but I was still disobeying Mom by going on this bike ride. The thought pinballed from my brain to my gut, making me feel sick.
“Go on.” She motioned toward the garage. “They’re waiting for you.”
“Thanks, Mom.” I hugged her waist and then slipped my shoes back on.
As I rode to March’s house, I felt the strange sensation of being both heavy and light. Heavy with the guilt of betraying Mom, and light with the excitement of detecting.
I had never biked farther than ten miles before, except with my parents. Living off Federal, we were usually less than fifteen minutes away from anything interesting by bike. The Denver Exploration Museum for Kids, the Mayan Theater, the Tattered Cover Book Store, and Coors Field, if traffic was good. My parents didn’t allow me to cross Federal into the busier areas of downtown without them.
But Magic Planet wasn’t downtown. In fact, it was in West Highland, the opposite direction of downtown and about twice as far away as the elementary school. We rode on residential streets with hardly any traffic. Every now and then we passed a skateboarder or a jogger. But when March’s bike skidded to a stop at the end of the street, right up against the chain-link fence surrounding Magic Planet, my stomach erupted in a flurry of butterflies. I tried imagining that we were just a group of kids exploring an abandoned amusement park. There was no harm in that, right? And it’s not like anyone would tell Mom about it.
The metal curve of the Jack Rabbit rose above the fence, but years of overgrown bushes and vines had crowded the chain-link, and it was impossible to see much else.
“This is it?” Madeleine asked.
“The backside of it.” March rolled his bike away to the edge of the sidewalk, noticeably agitated to have arrived. “Traffic’s busiest at the front, so I thought we’d check the back first.”
Madeleine and I laid our bikes on the sidewalk and stepped to the fence. I cupped my hands around my eyes like a telescope and tried to peer through the greenery. Nothing.
We walked our bikes down the sidewalk on West 41st Avenue, checking for breaks in the fence. March and CindeeRae hung back a few paces, the cards o
n March’s spokes suddenly loud in the still afternoon.
March had just started to speak when I noticed a camouflage cover hung from one fence post to another—hard to see because of an overgrown shrub nearly as tall as me lining the fence.
“There.” I pointed, my voice a whisper. We all stood and stared at the suspicious panel, as if we expected the camouflage cover to rise like a curtain, and a line of kidnapped dogs to parade out.
“Let’s park our bikes,” Madeleine said, breaking the spell, and we followed her around the corner of the block, where I began to lock mine against the fence.
“No way,” March said, pulling the U-lock from my hand and putting it back in my basket. “We leave them unlocked for a quick getaway.”
No one argued.
Madeleine pulled back the camouflage cover to expose a perfect rectangular cut in the fence. She ducked inside, pushing through a canopy of foliage, loudly.
We shushed her from the safety of the other side of the fence. Madeleine waved us in, and the three of us hesitated. It felt like we should hold a debate on the pros and cons of trespassing onto Magic Planet.
“We need a plan,” I whisper-yelled at her.
“We’re checking things out,” she said. “That’s our plan.”
“That’s not good enough,” I said as she waved away my concern and disappeared inside.
I turned to March and CindeeRae, anxious to catch up with Madeleine before she did something stupid. “If anything bad happens, we meet back here.” That seemed a good addition to the plan. Ignoring the flurry of anxiety in my gut, I pushed back the camouflage and stepped inside the fence.
The cover of trees and the Jack Rabbit towering overhead made it seem much darker than late afternoon. There were no lights in the abandoned amusement park, and the place echoed with the eerie quiet of a haunted alley. CindeeRae and March pushed their way in, the swooshing of brush loud in my ears.
Kazu Jones and the Denver Dognappers Page 12