Vanishing Acts

by Leslie Margolis

  Chapter 12

  I couldn’t sleep that night. And not just because I felt slightly sick from my pizza—I’m used to that. My problem was boys—as in, Seth and Milo.

  My conversation with Seth Ryan seemed so odd, so out of the blue. I’m glad my friends saw me talking to him. Otherwise by now I’d probably have convinced myself I made the whole thing up. On the other hand, if I had made up our encounter, I wouldn’t even be able to invent a character like Seth Ryan. He was nothing like the guy I’d imagined.

  In every single movie he starred in, Seth came across as a brilliant mastermind—the kind of guy who always knew what to say and what to do, whether that meant thwarting a gang of giant lobsters or defending the planet from a madman by disarming a gigantic ticking time bomb with half a toothpick and only seconds to spare.

  And it wasn’t just the roles he played; even in interviews, Seth seemed cool and happy and completely together. From seeing his image on TV and his pictures in magazines, I’d figured he had an amazing fashion sense.

  But Seth in real life? He reminded me of a brand-new puppy set loose in the park. He didn’t know where he was, how to act, what to do, or which way was up. Also, and this part made me sad, he seemed completely lost and alone.

  I’m not the best-dressed kid in the world, but at least I knew how to put my T-shirts on the right way. Unless wearing his T-shirt inside out and backward was some sort of new trend I hadn’t heard about yet. Somehow, I didn’t think so.

  And how come Seth let Fiona boss him around like that? Shouldn’t he be able to take a walk and grab a slice of pizza when he wanted to? He’s twelve, not two. It didn’t make any sense. If he really wanted a dog, why didn’t he just go out and get a dog? What Fiona said about him working too much kind of made sense. But why couldn’t he take some time off? As far as I knew, he’d been working his whole life. Everybody deserved a vacation.

  The more I thought about our encounter, the less sense it made. And the less sense it made, the more my head hurt.

  Then there was Milo, who’d not only acted like a total jerk, he’d also acted like a weird jerk. Was Finn right? Was he jealous of Seth Ryan? That sounded silly. Maybe he was really mad at me for something else. But why would he be mad? I didn’t do anything wrong. And it’s not like I wanted Seth to be my boyfriend. But even if I did, so what? Milo and I weren’t officially together.

  I tossed and turned in my bed, too worked up to sleep, and now annoyed with Milo for being mysteriously annoyed with me.

  Unless something else was going on with Milo. Maybe he was nervous about his upcoming chess tournament, or stressed out about school, or fighting with his grandma. It could’ve been a million things. By the time I went to sleep, I’d convinced myself it wasn’t about me. I must’ve misinterpreted his silence. Maybe he really was busy all weekend. I had bigger things to worry about: a report on Cindy Singer and an egger to track down.

  But when I got to science the next day and said hi to Milo, he didn’t respond. At first I figured he hadn’t heard. He wasn’t listening to music, but he was bent over a book. Some science fiction novel, I guessed, based on the cover. Milo reads them all the time.

  “Good book?” I asked, raising my voice.

  “Huh?” He turned around. “Oh, hey,” he said.

  “I’ve been thinking about Mister Fru Fru’s egger and I’m wondering if he or she could be a cat owner. Like, maybe someone really upset with how Park Slope is overrun with dogs?”

  I was half joking. Really, I just wanted to have a conversation, make things normal again. But Milo didn’t even smile.

  Chapter 13

  I took Preston on an extra-long walk after school that day because walking helps me think, and I had a lot of thinking to do.

  Maybe Milo was mad because Lucy and I had laughed at his beautifying products comment. So should I apologize? What if that wasn’t it? And even if it was—what if bringing it up now, a day later, made everything even worse? And how could I waste so much time worrying about it when I had a dog-egger to catch?

  Unless Finn was right and Milo did like me and now I’d blown our entire relationship before we even had a chance to have one.

  Wandering around the park did not bring any clarity to the situation.

  I decided to swing by the set of Vanished. Yes, Jones had banned me, but Seth and I were friends. Okay, maybe not friends, but we were certainly friendly, and he’d told me to stop by.

  Rounding the corner from Prospect Park West onto Second Street, I expected to see the crazy winter wonderland I’d encountered on Wednesday. But Zander and the rest of the crew must’ve been working overtime, because today the street looked like a genuine crime scene.

  Each of the six trailers was cordoned off with yellow police tape that read CRIME SCENE DO NOT CROSS in bold black letters. A bunch of men and women in New York Police Department uniforms wandered around.

  They looked so serious, and had authentic-looking caps and everything. But according to Beatrix and Sonya, Vanished took place in a universe overrun by teenagers and zombies and giant rats. So why the fake cops? Were they supposed to be teenage cops? These ones seemed too old. Maybe they were zombie cops? They weren’t particularly pale, and everyone knows that if the walking dead are one thing, it’s pale. The cameras weren’t rolling, but some of them talked into walkie-talkies. Others marched around like they meant business. In other words, they looked like real, live cops. And I had this funny feeling, like something major had gone down.

  I looked for my friends, thinking maybe they could tell me why the police were there. But before I found them, I noticed a familiar face.

  It was one of the police officers who’d helped me when I busted the dog-napper last month. He stood off to the side, half hidden by one of the larger brownstones on the street, talking into his cell phone. I walked Preston closer so I could listen. Okay, eavesdrop. I couldn’t help but be curious. “He didn’t show up for work this morning, and his hotel room was empty. Dressing room, too,” the officer said. “His manager and legal guardian. Negative. No sign of a break-in or struggle. We’ve got to talk to the director, too. I know. Yeah, we have no choice. The note on the bed, that’s all it said. ‘Don’t bother looking, you’ll never—’”

  Just then he stopped talking and glanced at me.

  I quickly crouched down to pet Preston. “How ya doing, big guy? Ready to move on?” I spoke in that overly friendly tone people use when talking to dogs and children. And I did my best to look the part of an innocent kid walking her dog—which I realize is not too much of a stretch. The police officer must have believed me, because he went on talking, although in a much lower voice.

  Now I had to strain to make out the words.

  “. . . Could be anyone . . . Not just a kid—the most famous kid in the world.”

  Suddenly my ears perked up. Obviously there’s only one most famous kid in the world: Seth Ryan. But did the police officer just say something about a ransom note? That didn’t sound good. I looked up at him right as he looked at me. Our eyes met, which meant one thing—I was busted.

  He hung up and pointed to me in one swift move. “I know you,” he said.

  I flashed him my most innocent look. “Are you talking to me?” I asked.

  “You’re the kid who saved all those dogs last month, right? Maggie Brooklyn Sinclair, is it?”

  “You can call me Maggie Brooklyn.”

  “I never got to introduce myself last time. I’m Officer Rudy Green, but you can call me Rudy. I’m impressed with your work. Brenda had been stealing dogs for years, all over the country. Every other detective was looking for a set of twins. No one realized she was a lone operator.”

  “It took a while to figure out,” I admitted, going for a modest approach.

  I shook his hand, which was large, like the rest of him. Rudy Green had dark skin and brown eyes. Tall and skinny, he wore his police cap back a bit on his shaved head.

  “Is everything okay?” I asked. “I coul
dn’t help but overhear . . .”

  “Nothing you need to worry about,” he said.

  Too late for that. I looked around. A few more police cars pulled up. A lady in a dark gray suit took pictures of Seth’s trailer. A group of officers talked to Vigor, Seth’s bodyguard. Others seemed to be questioning Jones and various members of the cast and crew. The air felt tense, too serious. And someone was conspicuously missing.

  “Where’s Seth?” I asked, more than a little concerned.

  Rudy smiled a tight smile. “You two on a first-name basis?”

  “Um, yeah,” I said. “We are. Is he okay?”

  “I’m talking about Seth Ryan. The actor,” said Rudy.

  “Me, too. We hung out at the Pizza Den last night.”

  Rudy laughed until someone else yelled, “It’s true.”

  The voice came from behind me, and it seemed familiar, but not in a good way. Once I turned around I realized why. It was Seth’s manager, Fiona. Or, more to the point, it was a very angry Fiona.

  “This is Seth’s second time disappearing,” she told Rudy, pulling him aside, although not out of earshot, as if she didn’t want me to be a part of the conversation, but she wanted me to know they were talking about me. “He first did so last night, and when I finally tracked him down, he was with her.” She tilted her head toward me. “Which is highly suspicious, don’t you think?”

  Rudy looked from Fiona to me. “Is this true, Maggie?” he asked.

  “Well, yes,” I replied. “But the last time I saw Seth, Fiona was practically dragging him away.”

  “Which was in his best interest and which I have every right to do as his manager and legal guardian,” she said to Rudy. “Part of my job is protecting Seth from the riffraff.”

  “The what?” I asked, butting in. “Are you actually calling me ‘riffraff’? What does that even mean?”

  “Let’s all calm down,” said Rudy. He turned to me. “Please, Maggie. Is there any shred of truth to what Fiona is saying?”

  I gulped. “There is, but it’s not like she says.”

  I explained what happened, how Seth approached me. Rudy listened carefully and took a lot of notes while I talked. “I know it sounds crazy, but I swear it’s true.” I tried to give him as much detail as possible. “And that’s when Fiona came in and whisked him away. So as you can see, this has all been a gigantic misunderstanding.”

  “Uh-huh,” said Rudy. “Got it.”

  “Good,” I said. “I should probably get going.”

  “Not so fast,” Rudy said as he placed his pen in his shirt pocket. “I think you’d better come with me.”

  “Where?” I asked.

  “Down to the station.”

  Chapter 14

  I’d never been to a real police station before; it’s not like it is on TV. I didn’t see any hard-boiled criminals screaming about their innocence and struggling to break free as they were led away in handcuffs. Nor did I see any soft-boiled criminals, or any over-easy or sunny-side-up ones, either.

  The room was a maze of desks with police officers scurrying between the rows like hamsters. None of them sported cheap-looking suits or funny mustaches. Not that there’s any such thing as a non-funny mustache; I’m just saying, the entire scene was not at all what I’d pictured.

  Of course, it’s not like I actually got arrested or officially accused of anything. I didn’t even ride down to the precinct in a police car, which is lucky, I suppose. It’s because I had Preston with me—a built-in excuse for not being able to go with Rudy at that very moment. I promised I’d go to the station later that day, and Rudy promised me if I didn’t show up he’d find me. “Don’t worry,” he said. “We’ve still got your address on file from the dognapping bust.”

  Like that was supposed to reassure me!

  As soon as I brought Preston home, I ran upstairs and called my mom and convinced her that this was real and not some elaborate prank. She told me to take the bus down to the precinct and to wait outside on the steps for her. “Do not walk through those doors alone—do you understand? I need to be there with you.”

  “Do most kidnapping suspects show up with their mothers?” I couldn’t help but ask.

  “Nope,” my mom replied crisply. “But I’m not going to be there as your mother. I’m going to be there as your lawyer.”

  “Yikes!” I said.

  “Yikes, exactly,” she replied. “Now be sure to wear something nice. That means no jeans. And I’ll see you there at six o’clock sharp. Remember—do not enter the building without me, and do not talk to anyone.”

  After I hung up, I changed into a skirt and tights and boots. Then I stared at myself in the mirror, trying to figure out if I looked guilty. I mean, obviously I’m innocent, but the whole being-summoned-to-police-headquarters-for-questioning-in-a-major-kidnapping-case thing made me feel like I’d done something wrong. And I hoped my nervousness didn’t show. I was there to share information as a witness. This was what I reminded myself to quell my jitters once we finally sat down with Rudy and two other detectives at 6:05 that night.

  Officers Flinti and Guererra were both short and roundish. Officer Guererra had a Spanish accent and a goatee. Officer Flinti was black and clean shaven.

  After introductions, Rudy asked me to explain my encounter with Seth Ryan in my own words, using as much detail as possible.

  “But I already did that,” I said.

  “I know, Maggie. But we need to hear it again,” said Rudy.

  I looked to my mom, who nodded for me to go ahead.

  I took a deep breath and started talking. “I was at the Pizza Den last night, saving a table for my friends, when suddenly Seth Ryan was standing over me asking if he could ask me something. Which sounds redundant, I know, but that’s exactly how it happened.”

  “He just picked you out of the crowd?” asked Officer Guerrera, looking like he didn’t believe me.

  “Yes,” I said. “I mean, no. Not exactly. We’d talked on the movie set by his trailer two days before.”

  “So you were stalking him,” said Officer Flinti, writing something down in his notebook.

  “Objection,” said my mother. “My client never stalked the victim. Please don’t put words into her mouth or we’re out of here.”

  I shot my mom a nervous glance. She smiled and winked and gestured for me to continue.

  I took a deep breath and tried to re-create the scene as best I could. “No, I was just walking off the set and I passed by his trailer and I saw him waving. At first I figured he had to be talking to someone else, but no—it was me.”

  “We were told that right before you were thrown off the movie set you caused a public disturbance,” Officer Guerrera said, checking his notes as if to verify this fact.

  “Hardly!” I said. “All I did was try to leave. Jones Reynaldo was the one who freaked out. I wanted to stay, but I had to get to work—something I tried to tell him as politely as possible. But he wouldn’t listen.”

  “So you have nothing against Seth Ryan?” Rudy asked.

  “No, I love Seth Ryan,” I said, then, realizing how that sounded, I tried to backtrack. “I mean, I like him. A lot. As in, I’m a fan, and based on our conversation, he seems like a nice guy. Not at all like I’d pictured him. Not that I didn’t think he’d be nice. He’s a total puppy dog.”

  Officer Flinti leaned a little closer. “Excuse me?”

  “What?” I asked.

  “Did you just call Seth Ryan a dog?” Officer Flinti asked.

  “No, no. I mean, yes. Kind of, but not literally. What I mean is, he’s sweet like a puppy dog. And a little lost.”

  “Not just lost,” said Officer Flinti. “Missing, because he was kidnapped.”

  “I meant before he was kidnapped,” I clarified.

  My hands, which were resting on the table, began to tremble. My mom grabbed one. “Relax,” she whispered.

  “You say you’re a big Seth Ryan fan,” said Officer Flinti. “So why aren’t you
in his fan club?”

  “How did you know about that?” I asked.

  “We have our ways,” Rudy said ominously.

  “Well then, you also must know there are only two people in the Seth Ryan fan club,” I replied, sitting up straighter. “Beatrix Williams and Sonya Singh.”

  They gave me blank stares.

  I shifted in my seat and glanced at my mom. She smiled, encouraging me. I didn’t know why I was nervous. I hadn’t done anything wrong. “I like admiring Seth unofficially,” I said finally.

  “Like at the Pizza Den,” said Officer Flinti.

  “I already told you, he approached me. I was just sitting there, waiting for my pizza.”

  “What kind of pizza?” asked Rudy.

  “Pepperoni with extra cheese,” I fired back.

  “And if we go to the Pizza Den and ask them about your order, they’ll confirm it?” asked Officer Flinti.

  “Well, I doubt the Pizza Den will remember. They were packed that night. And they’re not exactly known for their great service. Plus, I was saving our table; my brother took care of the order.”

  “I see,” said Rudy. “That’s very interesting.”

  Officer Flinti grunted and the three of them exchanged a look.

  This was weird. It was like they were playing a game. Trying to intimidate me or trick me into saying something incriminating when I had absolutely nothing to hide.

  In this way, I did kind of feel like I was on some crime drama, which might’ve been cool, if not for one simple fact: someone had kidnapped Seth Ryan. It most definitely was not me. And the longer we sat there talking, the more time the real criminals had to get away.

  Meanwhile, the officers just looked at me like they were waiting for something. I felt like I had to speak up. “No offense, but I think you’re wasting your time. I’ve told you everything I know about Seth Ryan.”

  “So you say,” said Officer Guerrera. “But I think we’ll be the judge of that.”