The Diamond Mistake Mystery

by Sylvia McNicoll

  Dad puts the phone down. “I can have a cat and dog night-care job. You have to love it, Mr. Mason’s going to pay me to sleep.” Dad rubs his hands together. “Renée, do you think your mom would mind if Stephen came for a sleepover?”

  “No, she would love to do something for you guys for a change!” Renée breaks into a grin. “Minnie will like it, too. She’s grown so big!” Minnie is the mouse Renée adopted for me from the animal shelter. She keeps Minnie at her house because Mom’s allergic to animal dander. Can a mouse really grow big?

  And why does nobody ask me? This will be the first time I stay over at Renée’s even though she’s slept at our house a few times while her parents were splitting up. The Kobai house always seems too quiet and clean. What if I do the wrong thing, maybe leave a footprint on the white carpet or a fingerprint on a glass coffee table?

  I should insist I’m old enough to stay by myself overnight, but I get nervous when Dad’s not around. I really don’t like Mom flying off, either, but I have no choice.

  Renée takes out her phone. “Are we still on for tacos?”

  “Yup. Mr. Mason needs to leave by eight.”

  Mrs. Kobai may say no, I think. School night and all. If she does, I will tell Dad to go ahead, anyway. I’ll be fine. Noble Dog Walking/Cat Sitting needs the business. I can do this. I pick up my own knitting and go. Clickety, click, click. I feel warm. I’m breathing fast. Once Dad leaves, the furnace will groan. The floor will creak. A window will rattle. I’m knitting at maybe an eight out of ten. The stitches bunch together too tightly. My scarf grows lopsided.

  “Hey, Mom. Can Stephen sleep over?” Renée’s eyes light up and she nods yes at me and Dad. My knitting slows down. “No, we’re going to eat over here. Okay, Mom. See you.” She hangs up and smiles at Dad. “Attila will pick us up at seven.”

  “Great.” Dad picks up his own cell and presses redial. “Yeah, hello? … I’ll be there after supper. Don’t you worry; Bailey and Tiger won’t hurt each other on my watch. Okay. See you.” Dad pockets his phone and jumps from the recliner, clapping his hands together. “I’ll fry up the ground beef and warm the shells. Stephen, you’re in charge of tomatoes and lettuce. Renée, grab the sour cream and cheddar from the fridge.”

  “And the salsa,” I add.

  We bump into each other getting the food till I take over and pass Renée all the ingredients.

  While she shreds cheese, I rip apart the leaves and wash them. As I spin them around to dry, my mind spins, too, and I decide to tell Dad about the secret room and the missing pink diamond.

  He squints at me. “So, you really think Pearl moved the bookcase without her parents noticing and took her mother’s diamond ring for show and tell?”

  “And lost it to a pirate, too, she said.” He’s giving me an easy out. I shrug my shoulders and take it. “Doesn’t seem likely,” I agree.

  Renée stops shredding and raises an eyebrow at me.

  “But you never can tell with her,” I add.

  “Mr. Lebel’s in the hospital with pneumonia. They sure have a lot to deal with. How about we just wait till he comes out?”

  “What if Mrs. Lebel reports the ring as missing?” Renée asks.

  “It is missing,” I answer. There is a little voice inside me letting me know that not telling Mrs. Lebel about Pearl losing the ring could be mistake ten of the day.

  Teamwork makes for an instant amazing supper. Then the doorbell rings.

  “That will be Attila. I’ll get it.” Renée wipes her mouth and pushes back her chair. Then she heads for the front door. I’m finished eating, too, so I follow her.

  Attila is early. Tall, with a black mohawk, he fills the door frame. Dad invites him in, and even though he says he’s already had supper, Attila stuffs his face with our last taco. Meanwhile, I grab my backpack for school, some pajamas, and a change of clothes.

  “Do you want some cashews for Minnie and Mickey?” Dad asks.

  “That’s okay, we have some at home,” Renée answers.

  The three of us head outside, and I’m surprised to see that Attila is driving a fairly new SUV; usually, he drives something that looks like a scrapyard find.

  “Nice car, Attila,” I tell him. We get in and I’m shocked. No pop cans or chip bags litter the floor, either. Mind you, Attila does keep his room neat.

  Renée whistles. “Where did you get it?”

  “Just came into some good fortune.” Attila’s lips spread like butter and I get that prickly feeling at the back of my neck again. Ever since he was caught spray-painting a tank on the wall of his high school, he’s the first person everyone blames for anything that goes wrong, and Renée hates that. Renée will hate it even more if I suggest that maybe Attila traded in an expensive pink diamond he found in the field, or worse, behind the Lebel bookcase, for a pretty snazzy new car. If he picked up that ring this morning, would he even have had time to cash it in for this SUV?

  Their house is about a fifteen-minute walk away, but driving, we’re there before I even finish worrying.

  Attila leaps out and beats us inside, heading directly downstairs to his basement room. We’re slower, calling out a hello to Mrs. Kobai and then chatting with her for a few moments about what we learned at school today. Only then do we take the stairs down to the laundry room to visit Minnie and Mickey. We pass through Attila’s wing of the basement. He’s changing shirts in front of his closet. His king-sized bed is neatly made with a fuchsia duvet and pillows in perfect alignment. A wall-sized picture of a maid sweeping some dust behind a curtain hangs behind it. The picture is a Banksy print, Renée told me last time I was here. I always imagine that maid stepping out and tidying Attila’s room when no one’s looking.

  Once in the laundry room, Renée takes the mice out of their cage on the floor, handing me Minnie. I cup my hands gently around her warm white fur. Her ears open wide like satellite dishes as her small pink nose sniffs frantically at my fingers. She stops for a second and raises her head, her oil-drop eyes staring at me as if to ask whether I’m friendly or not.

  “Don’t be afraid!” I whisper, but I know first-hand that nobody can tell you that from the outside. You need to feel that from the inside.

  Meanwhile, Mickey quickly scrambles up Renée’s arm and up her neck.

  I can’t help frowning. How do I make Minnie trust me the way Mickey trusts Renée?

  Renée giggles and hunches her shoulders as Mickey sniffs her ear. “That tickles! Stop, stop! I’ll get you a treat.” She reaches for a jar from the cupboard above the washing machine. Cashews. She bites one in half and throws me a piece. “Make her follow your hand for it. She needs to get used to you.”

  I carefully place Minnie on the floor, surrounding her with my legs so she can’t take off. I offer her the nut. She huddles in place, nose twitching. I push the nut toward her. She darts back into her cage and burrows inside an empty paper towel roll.

  “Let’s just watch a movie on Attila’s computer. Pick up the tube with Minnie. She’ll come out eventually, when she gets used to you.”

  I lift the roll slowly, so as not to give her motion sickness, and then we head into Attila’s wing.

  “Can we watch Netflix on your computer?” Renée asks him, plunking herself on Attila’s bed.

  “Sure, I’m leaving anyway. Just don’t get any rodent poop on my blankets.”

  “Thanks. See ya!” Renée waves even as she scrolls down for something to watch. In the end she streams an old animated feature called The Nut Job, saying the mice will enjoy it. The video displays on Attila’s gigantic monitor. Renée sprawls out on the bed, Mickey scrambling all over her shoulders and head, giving her mouse love. I sit on Attila’s drawing chair — the one that’s usually tucked under his large desk — holding Minnie as still as possible in the paper towel tube on my lap.

  Turns out Renée’s wrong about Minnie getting used to me — the real mistake ten of the day. Minnie doesn’t so much as poke her head out the whole night. When Renée’s m
om tells us it’s time for bed, school night and all, I finally tuck the cashew in the tube. Now Minnie doesn’t have to come out if she doesn’t want to. I hear her crunching down on it. I love the sound.

  After she’s finished, we head back to the laundry room and I lower the tube back into the cage. Renée dumps Mickey in, too. As I stand up, I notice Mr. Neat and Tidy has left his closet open, and I reach out with my foot to kick it shut for him. That’s when I see it. A pirate costume hanging in Attila’s closet.

  DAY ONE, MISTAKE ELEVEN

  My foot stops short of the door. I can’t help staring. There’s a long, dark jacket with a red bandana draped over one shoulder and white ruffled shirt sleeves hanging from the jacket arms. On the other shoulder, a toy green-and-red parrot perches. Above them on the shelf sits a black tricorne hat with a skull and crossbones and, beside it, an eye patch and a sword.

  “Attila must be going to a Halloween party.” Renée pushes the door closed.

  “Sure is one heck of a costume. Do you think he ever wore it before? You know, like to try it out? Could Pearl have visited him when she was supposed to be going to the bathroom that day?”

  “Who knows.” Renée refuses to connect Attila’s pirate outfit or his newish car with the missing diamond ring so she’s not at all interested. “C’mon, upstairs. You’re sleeping on the ground floor. In Dad’s office.”

  Mr. Kobai’s office, great. If Mr. Lebel is the hairy yeti, Mr. Kobai is the bullet-headed one. He threw Attila out once; he didn’t like his art. Well, spray-painting buildings is illegal. What would he say if he knew I was sleeping here? ’Course, he won’t be around, anyway, so using his room shouldn’t bother me. Still, Renée and Mrs. Kobai sleep on the second floor, and I’ll be alone on this level. I wish I could keep Minnie with me for company, but Mrs. Kobai doesn’t allow the mice upstairs.

  “I’ll get the blankets for the futon.” Renée opens a door. “This will be your bathroom.” She reaches into the cupboard on the wall, tosses me a pillow, and takes out dark-blue sheets and a comforter.

  We duck in through the next door to Mr. Kobai’s office, and I watch two white moons sweep across the wall. Renée flips on the light switch and pulls a string to shut the blinds.

  Only headlights, I think. Immediately, long shadows leap up the wall. But they’re ours, I tell myself. Against that wall sits Mr. Kobai’s desk, body-sized with dark wood and fancy panels. It looks like a coffin — a coffin with a huge computer screen sitting on it. I snap on the gooseneck study lamp on top of the desk.

  Hawh! The lamp throws another round moon of light onto a face with a mouth and eyeholes. The eyeholes stare down from the wall over the futon.

  “Like it?” Renée asks. “It’s a tribal mask. Dad brought it home from South Africa on his last trip.” Renée folds down the futon and tucks a sheet over it.

  “Awesome,” I answer and throw my pillow toward the other end. I’ll face away from it when I sleep.

  “We can leave the hall light on if you like,” Renée says as she walks me back to the bathroom.

  “Yes, please,” I answer.

  “I’ll set the alarm for six thirty, so we can walk Ping and Pong and have plenty of time to take Pearl to school.”

  “Sounds good.” I smile nervously as I step in the bathroom.

  “Oh right, you need a towel.” She hands me a fresh one from the linen cupboard by the toilet. “Anything else? Toothpaste?” She hands me some from the mirror cabinet over the pedestal sink.

  “I’m fine.” I pull my toothbrush from my pocket and hold it up.

  “Okay. Good night, then.” She leaves me and heads up the stairs.

  I brush my teeth, singing “Happy Birthday” twice in my head. My dentist likes me to sing it once as I brush the outside of the teeth and once for the inside, so I’ll do a more thorough job. But the words also make me think party and cake, and it’s hard to feel creeped out when you’re thinking about those things.

  Still, when I head back to the office, there’s no more party or cake left in my head. A long shadow shifts and moves around as I change into pajamas. I switch off the overhead light. The gooseneck lamp still spotlights that mask. I snap it off, too. Quiet and dark. Suddenly, a waterfall gurgles over my head. “Toilet flushing,” I tell myself out loud. A door creaks and then slams. I’m never going to fall asleep, I think. But I lie down and fold my arms across my chest for a few moments, hoping. Then I flip to my side. To my other side. To my back again.

  Tossing and turning, somewhere along the way, I tumble into dreams. In them, I’m sleeping in that secret room in the Lebels’ house. The green and red gems wink at me from the glass shelves like they’re alive and know some secret. They’re murmuring something: Where is it? Where is it? Where is it? Are they worried about that missing pink diamond, too?

  There’s a crash. The dream turns scary nightmare. Someone throws open a drawer and rummages through Mrs. Lebel’s jewellery box. What should I do to stop him?

  I try to think my way out of this nightmare, the way Dad’s taught me to do. Find the mistake in the logic of the dream and you’ll wake up. Well, I know I couldn’t possibly be sleeping in the Lebels’ house. No one could make me stay over at that yeti’s lair. Why would they? Mistake eleven of the day, late-breaking, is the way my brain has switched yeti houses.

  DAY TWO, MISTAKE ONE

  When my brain puts together that I’m really sleeping in Mr. Kobai’s office, I bolt upright and wake myself, just as Dad predicted I could. Light filters in through the gap between the blind slats and the window frame. A large shadow figure hovers near the desk. A leftover from my dream? I shake my head to clear it.

  But the shadow stays.

  Can’t be mine, I’m still lying down. It stoops over. I hear the clup of wood against wood, a drawer opening and shutting in the coffin desk. I smell spicy pine — someone’s aftershave? This has to be real.

  There’s only one thing I can do, and I don’t even think about it.

  Aieeeeee! I scream as loud as I can, hoping to scare the robber away.

  “Shhh. Shhh. You’ll wake the whole house.” Tall and bullet-headed, it is the other yeti: Mr. Kobai.

  First mistake of the day: the shadow is not a robber. It’s Renée’s dad.

  “Why are you sleeping in my office?” he asks. Mr. Kobai has an angry clip to his words, always; maybe it’s just his Hungarian accent. Memories of nights in Dracula’s castle.

  I quickly explain: “Because my dad had to watch a cat and dog and I was going to be alone in the house and …”

  Like in a movie, lightning flashes, thunder claps.

  Really, it’s just the light switch and the door slamming. Mrs. Kobai stands near it, sleepy-eyed in her robe, with a mass of bed tangle at the back of her head. Her arms wrap tightly around each other as though she is cold. “What are you doing here, Zeno?”

  “I texted you.” Calm and as fresh as a glass of orange juice, the yeti has no hair to comb and wears pleated pants, a sports jacket, and a spicy pine scent. He yanks open the middle drawer. “I’m flying out this morning and couldn’t find my passport.” He rummages for a couple of seconds, then holds up a navy-blue booklet. “Aha! Here it is.”

  The door to the office crashes open. “Daddy!” Renée rushes in and hugs Mr. Kobai. We’re only missing Attila, who I guess can sleep through anything. “You’re going away, again?”

  “I must supervise the construction of that building I designed for the diamond people.”

  Diamond people. My brain cells perk up. My eyes narrow.

  “South Africa? Will you be gone long?” Renée asks.

  Mr. Kobai looks like he’s trying to swallow his lips.

  “And you weren’t going to tell me!” Renée sounds sad, not mad.

  “Why don’t we have some breakfast?” her mom jumps in. “It’s early enough. I can make pencakes.”

  For a moment I wonder how she can make cakes out of pens and why anyone would want to, I’m still that groggy. Oh,
ohhh! It’s her Hungarian accent. Pancakes. Yay! I think.

  But from the corner of my eye, I see Renée’s face crumple. I’m guessing her dad will be away a while.

  “What do you want me to bring for you?” Mr. Kobai asks. “Something pretty?”

  “Nothing,” Renée grumbles.

  That’s a mistake, I think. A souvenir T-shirt or cap is always nice.

  “Come on, Renée.” Mr. Kobai tilts his head and chucks her chin, looking into her eyes.

  She straightens, throws her shoulders back, and raises her head. “A monkey.”

  “I’ll see what I can do,” Mr. Kobai answers. He holds her close for a moment and then drops his arms. “I must go now. See you,” he says to Mrs. Kobai but he doesn’t hug or kiss her. The door closes softly behind him.

  There’s a moment of sad quiet.

  Then: “Okay, kids.” Mrs. Kobai clasps her hands together and smiles. “Get dressed while I make something delicious.”

  We leave the house bright and early to get the dogs. I would have loved to eat a stack of pancakes, but Mrs. Kobai only dished out a couple and I wanted to be polite. It’s warm for late October and the sun glints off Renée’s sequined red top. She’s wearing a really twirly skirt and sparkly matching ballet slippers, and her hair is pulled up high in a bouncy ponytail. Too dressed up for school, but when things are down for Renée, she uses sparkle and glitter as her armour. With her chin up and her mouth turned down, she can take on the world.

  Next door at Mr. Rupert’s house, we spot the Rottweiler Cleaning Service car, a small yellow hatchback with a Rotti logo on the front door. Mrs. Klein, our former school custodian, carries a bucket and mop toward the house. Her red curls tumble all over her head messily, like they’re having a party.