Mabel Opal Pear and the Rules for Spying

by Amanda Hosch

  Just as I was passing by, the doors to Mai’s Diner swung open, and the HEGs rushed out. Typical. I’m not in town for sixty seconds and I know the first people I see.

  “Mabel, there you are,” Queen Bee Hannah said. “Victoria said you’re sick and that’s why you missed school. Are you feeling OK?”

  “Why are you riding a bike?” Emma H. asked.

  “Stanley wasn’t in school, either,” Grace L. said. “Are you contagious? Grace K. went home early too. She’d been crying.”

  “That bike is too big for you,” Emma Z. added. “How did you get up on it?”

  “You don’t look good at all,” Princess Bee Hannah said. “You need to rest.”

  “Where’s Emma G.?” I asked.

  “She had something to do,” Princess Bee Hannah said.

  “Why did Victoria leave school early today?” Grace T. asked.

  “Both Grace K. and Victoria left early?” I repeated. The HEGs nodded. “That’s bad.”

  “Is this connected to your aunt Gertie?” Emma Z. asked.

  “Grace K. thinks she did something wrong,” Grace L. blurted out. “She said she didn’t mean to hurt you, Mabel.”

  “What did she do?” I asked. Spy on me? Report on my movements to the man who sent my parents away on a mission that might endanger their careers? Did she just say the wrong thing at the wrong time?

  “I’m not sure, exactly,” Grace L. said, aware that for once, she was the center of attention. “In the bathroom at morning recess, she told me that she and her mom may have been gossiping about your family, Mabel, and her father’s old friend may have overheard it. He might have misunderstood and was going to use the gossip against you. She’s real sorry.”

  “I have to see Sheriff Baker now,” I said, “but I need your help.”

  “Sure,” Queen Bee Hannah said. “Anything.”

  The HEGs circled around me.

  “Could you all go to Grace K.’s house and tell her that I’m not angry?” I figured no one could get through a wall of HEGs.

  “Of course,” Princess Bee Hannah said. “What else?”

  I didn’t want to endanger them, so I said, “Just hang out there for a few hours. Don’t let her go anywhere. I have to talk to the sheriff about Aunt Gertie.”

  Like a migrating herd of elk, the HEGs took off toward Grace K.’s house on the outskirts of Silverton. Knowing Montgomery wouldn’t stay unconscious for long, I pedaled down the street to the sheriff’s office.

  I let the bike clatter to the ground and ran inside, yelling for Sheriff Baker. The lights were off, but I didn’t know if that was a good or bad sign. Stanley should have made it back. Just as I was wondering if we could have missed each other going in opposite directions, I heard a noise from somewhere in the dark.

  “Mmmmmp.”

  “Who’s there?” I called out.

  “Mmmmmp!” said the voice again.

  But another sound, higher-pitched, said, “Tssss.”

  I felt my way to the wall and ran my hands along it until I came upon a light switch, which I flipped on immediately. I glanced back and forth, covering the entire room, but didn’t see anyone.

  “Mmmmmmp,” a deep voice growled from the far corner.

  I whipped my head around. Inside the last cell were Sheriff and Principal Baker, with tape covering their mouths.

  “Are you all right?” I asked. Stupid question.

  Their arms were behind them. Handcuffed together, I imagined. Their legs were shackled to the bed. I tried to slide open the cell door. It didn’t budge. Apparently, whoever did this didn’t trust the sheriff and her husband to wait patiently. I put my arm through the bars. They were too far away to reach.

  “Did Stanley tell you what we saw at Tim Chamberlain’s warehouse?”

  The sheriff nodded vigorously.

  “Did Montgomery do this to you?”

  They shook their heads in unison.

  “Frank?”

  Sheriff Baker tried again to say something.

  “The fake state troopers who came with Montgomery — Carson and Raleigh?”

  The sheriff nodded to confirm my suspicions.

  “Did Stanley get away?” I asked.

  They both nodded.

  Relieved to hear that Stanley was safe, I began searching for the large key ring that the sheriff normally kept on her desk. “They took the keys, didn’t they?”

  They nodded.

  “I’ll call for help.” I dialed 911.

  Almost instantaneously, the other phone started ringing. I tried ignoring it, but the sheriff started making a noise like, “Fffff,” so I hung up the phone I was holding and picked up the other one.

  “Hello. This is the sheriff’s office.” No answer. “Hello.” I tried again. “This is the sheriff’s office.” Still no answer, so I hung up and went back to the original phone.

  I redialed 911. Again, the other stupid phone began to ring. I looked at the sheriff and Principal Baker. They seemed to be laughing under the tape covering their mouths.

  “What’s so funny? 911 isn’t answering. Someone’s prank calling the sheriff. And —” I hung up the phone. The other one stopped ringing. “I was calling myself, wasn’t I?”

  Sheriff Baker and her husband both nodded.

  “Seriously, Aunt Gertie needs help now.” Neither the sheriff nor the principal could help me until I found a way to help them. “Who should I call to rescue the town sheriff?”

  Sheriff Baker tried to tell me, but the tape prevented any words from getting out.

  Think, Sunflower. Who’d show up whenever someone got injured or lost near our part of the mountain? I visualized the yellow and red rescue vehicles with their bright blue letters. “Pierce County Sheriff!”

  Sheriff Baker nodded in agreement, relief on her face. She motioned her head toward her left. I looked down at my left. Nothing, but on my right, there was a contact list next to the phone.

  I quickly called the Pierce County sheriff’s office. Unlike Silverton, they had actual staff to answer their phones. The operator didn’t believe that Sheriff Baker was physically tied up and unable to speak at first, but I managed to convince her by reading all of the sheriff’s contact list over the phone to her. In case the park rangers hadn’t been able to make it yet, I pleaded with her to send an ambulance and officers to Aunt Gertie at Tim Chamberlain’s warehouse. I asked for help for Sheriff Baker and her husband. And finally, I requested backup for myself.

  The front doors squeaked. “Sheriff Baker.” I recognized Emma G.’s voice at once.

  “Something terrible has happened at Mabel’s house.” That was Stanley.

  “We’re in the back,” I shouted. “What’s wrong?”

  Stanley, red-faced and huffing from exhaustion, burst through the second set of doors. “Emma G. said your aunt took Victoria out of school early today. When I was warning the sheriff, two guys came in.”

  “Why aren’t you locked up?” I asked.

  “Once I saw they had Mr. Baker in handcuffs, I hid, then ran out before they noticed me.” He inhaled sharply.

  Emma G. hugged me. “Mabel, thank goodness you’re OK.” She breathed in deeply. “I was bringing you your homework when Stanley showed up outside your house.”

  What was this obsession about my homework?

  “Your front door was open,” Emma G. said, “so I went upstairs. Your room was a mess.” She held up what was left of my decorated baby pumpkin — half of the rind, one googly eye, and three spider legs. And glitter. “Someone smashed it.” She held back a sob. “I think you’ve been robbed.” Emma G.’s eyes grew wider when she noticed the sheriff and principal tied up in the holding cell.

  “Do you know where Victoria and her mother are?” I asked.

  “No, I don’t.” Emma G.’s skin paled, like she was
going to faint. I pushed her into a chair before she could fall.

  I picked up the telephone, handing the receiver to her. “Call your parents. Tell them to come here.” She nodded.

  “Mabel, there’s something else,” Stanley said. “The museum alarm was shrieking.”

  Just as I had feared — Stella had broken in. Now that I was in the middle of Silverton, I tried using the cell phones. No one answered them, no matter how many times I dialed or how long I let them ring.

  “I have to go,” I said. “Will you two stay with the Bakers?”

  “Of course.” Emma nodded. “My parents are on their way here.” She clutched the smashed baby pumpkin, rocking it for comfort. Tears rolled down her cheeks at an increasing rate.

  “Mabel, I should go with you,” Stanley said. “In case you need help.”

  “Emma G. needs you more,” I said. And I didn’t know if the fake state troopers were coming back anytime soon.

  I looked at the sheriff and her husband. “You’ll be OK?” It wasn’t like I could do anything more to help them.

  They both nodded.

  I had one more mission — save the spoons — and not a lot of time.

  33

  Float like a butterfly, sting like a bee.

  — Rule Number 23 from Rules for a Successful Life as an Undercover Secret Agent

  The front door of Le Petit Musée of Antique Silver Spoons was wide open. Victoria and Stella’s shouts were louder than the frantic buzzing of the alarm. A large shattered glass pane from a side window was the obvious point of entry.

  By the sounds of it, Stella and Victoria were either cheering for their favorite hockey team or tearing down the museum. Victoria needed me. She had helped me when she didn’t have to. Now it was my turn to return the favor.

  I stood outside Le Petit Musée for a moment, listening to their shrieks of fury. The fading sounds of stomping feet and slamming doors led me to think they had moved their fight into the small kitchen, closer to where I had hidden the New Orleans spoons. I inched into the doorway. On the first display case, Victoria’s purple smartphone lay forgotten. I had an idea.

  “You don’t care about me,” Victoria yelled in the kitchen. “I have friends here. They like me. I’m going to a sleepover on Friday, and they’re making me a special hair ribbon. I don’t want to leave.”

  I couldn’t hear Stella’s reply. Whatever it was, it riled Victoria even more. The crash of breaking glass was followed by the unmistakable tink of silver spoons hitting each other. Tink. Tink. Lots of spoons.

  Mom was going to be so angry if she came home. When, I corrected myself. When she comes home.

  The kitchen door swung open. I was caught like a deer in hunting season.

  “You.” Stella grabbed me under my armpits and lifted me off the ground. “You lied.” She wore multitudes of rings, bracelets, and necklaces. The diamond and sapphire clusters were back in her earlobes.

  “I wasn’t the first.” I tried to kick her, but my legs swung harmlessly, missing her. Stupid short legs. “Plus, you’ve been stealing my mother’s jewelry this whole time.”

  “As the oldest, Frank should have inherited them.”

  “They’re from my dad’s side of the family,” I said.

  With her pink and purple sweater ripped to pieces, Victoria stood behind her mother. She held one of the floorboards I had popped up. “Put Mabel down, Mom.”

  “Yes, put me down,” I said, earning a hard shake from Stella.

  Stella carried me between two smashed-in display cases. “Stay out of this, Vicky-girl. This doesn’t concern you.” A large green duffel bag was opened on the floor, filled with silver spoons and, I’d bet, the rest of my mother’s good jewelry.

  “It never does,” Victoria said. “Nothing you do is ever for me. Or about me. I’m just another inconvenience in your life.”

  “Vicky,” Stella’s voice wavered. “Everything I’ve done is to make your life better.”

  “How did camping out for months in a drafty old warehouse in the middle of the woods with no running water make my life better? No school. No friends. No flush toilet.” Victoria shouted. “Tell me that, Mother. How is my life better?”

  “If you let me deal with Mabel, our sacrifices will be worthwhile,” Stella said. “Then you can get everything your heart desires.”

  “Like what?” Victoria asked. “You don’t even know me.”

  Next to the duffel bag sat the red suitcase. The lock for the silverware case was intact, thank goodness. Thomas Jefferson’s gold-handled spoons were safe for the moment.

  “I’m calling Dad.” Victoria walked to the first display case.

  “And will you tell him that you broke into the museum and filmed yourself? All so you can be on some television show?” Stella’s voice was icy.

  “It’s a web series, Mom,” Victoria said with disdain. “Where’s my phone?”

  “Don’t bother calling. Your father is busy.”

  “With what?”

  “A job.”

  “He’s unemployed.” Victoria rolled her eyes. “Your stupid schemes don’t count as actual work.”

  “Victoria, this is not the time.” Stella focused on me. “Mabel, if you want to see your aunt Gertrude again, you will do exactly what I say.”

  “Or what?” I asked. “You’ll eat my food and wear my mother’s jewelry?”

  “I’ll do worse than that this time.” Stella motioned to the red suitcase. “Open it.”

  “Can’t,” I said. “I don’t know the code.”

  “Don’t lie to me, Mabel Opal Pear.” Stella pointed to a small gray monitor, which I had never seen before. “I had the whole house under surveillance with infrared wireless cameras. I just watched the video of you opening it in the basement.”

  That explained the creepy feelings I’d had. Someone had been watching me.

  “Don’t listen to her, Mabel,” Victoria said. “The video is fuzzy, like the photo of me in front of the Spoon sign. Mom didn’t see anything useful.”

  “I saw enough,” Stella said.

  How much is enough? I wondered. I crossed my arms and tried to stretch out the conversation. It seemed like my whole day had consisted of stalling while waiting for help to come. “You’re working with Montgomery.”

  “Very good.” Stella snatched the floorboard away from Victoria. “Now open the suitcase.”

  “Aunt Gertie is innocent.” I stalled, hoping the Pierce County officers would arrive soon. “Can you think of one thing she did wrong?”

  “No.” Stella swung the board like a baseball bat. “She’s an upstanding member of the community, just like your mother and father.” She smashed the top of a glass case. Then she scooped up the Pennsylvania Dutch Country horse and buggy spoons.

  “When was the last time you talked with your husband?”

  “Stop wasting time.” Stella cracked open another case to take spoons of the World’s Fairs. “Or I will have to do this the hard way.”

  “Mom.” Victoria grabbed her mother’s arm and tried to wrestle the floorboard away from her. “The cases are unlocked — you don’t have to break everything.”

  “But I can,” Stella said as she shook her arm out of Victoria’s grasp.

  Victoria lost her balance, which caused her to trip over one of the bags. She landed with a hard thud on the floor.

  “Are you OK?” I asked my cousin.

  “Not really.” Victoria inhaled quickly, as if she couldn’t catch her breath. “You’ve got the silver, Mom. Why are you making such a mess?”

  “I’m going to count to three,” Stella said to me. “That red suitcase better be open.”

  I touched the combination lock.

  “One.”

  Victoria crawled behind her mother. She stared intently at me, not with snark or judgment. V
ictoria looked eager, a bit afraid, but mostly, she looked hopeful.

  In that instant, I remembered all the things Victoria had done to me — and for me — during the past week. She’d taken video of me sleeping, but she’d also brought me food when Frankenstella hadn’t let me come to meals. She’d blackmailed me into breaking into the museum, but she had also covered for me when I left the house without permission. Most importantly, she’d reminded me that the HEGs were my friends.

  Victoria’s eyebrows lifted in question.

  “Two.” Stella gripped the bat.

  Friend or foe? Agent or double agent? What role had Victoria chosen? Could I trust her?

  I started spinning the numbers. I stared back at Victoria, raised an eyebrow in reply, and hoped that she read the answer — Yes, I trust you — on my face.

  “Three!” Stella cried.

  I picked up the red suitcase and swung with all my might.

  Smack! The silverware case slammed into Stella’s legs. She tumbled backward over Victoria.

  “Freeze!” came a voice out of nowhere.

  34

  Luck counts too.

  — Rule Number 31 from Rules for a Successful Life as an Undercover Secret Agent

  County sheriff’s officers swarmed the museum once they heard the crash. Stella had a few warrants out for her arrest, which didn’t surprise me at all. Apparently, she liked to use other people’s credit cards.

  “My aunt Gertie is hurt, and she’s at the abandoned warehouse outside of town,” I said to one of the officers. “Do you know if help has reached her yet?”

  “He’ll know,” the officer said, pointing to a guy in a blue suit.

  The man in the suit looked more like a college student dressed up in his father’s clothing than a police professional. With short black hair pointing in different directions and a huge grin on his face, he walked right up to me. “Gertrude’s en route to the hospital. Frank Baies and Montgomery have been taken into custody. Other members of Montgomery’s organization were arrested this afternoon.” His deep voice was so familiar.