by John J. Bonk
“It just started. I’m at a pay phone outside of—”
“What? Outside of where?”
“Ugh! I can’t hear a freakin’ thing! You know what? Bad timing—forget it!”
“No, wait—are you all right? Hello? Oh, no …”
Lexi tried calling back but there was no answer. Suddenly the city seemed harsh and horrible and closing in on her. She stared up past the silvery art deco topper of the Chrysler building, past the wispy clouds, desperately wondering what to do. Horns were still honking and sirens screaming and yet the most glorious sound was bleeding through. Church bells? Clanging in the distance? Melrose had mentioned there was a church near Grand Central when they were at the pizza place—St. Agnes, was it?—where she hid out sometimes. Whenever things got really bad. She scrambled to her feet with a sudden purpose.
“Excuse me, ma’am?” Lexi called out to a ruddy-faced woman selling flowers from plastic buckets on the corner. “Do you happen to know where St. Agnes is?”
“I dunno—a few blocks east, I think,” the woman croaked, barely looking up from her tulips. “Just follow your ears.”
Lexi did just that, texting Kim Ling along the way.
MEET UP @3 IN FRNT OF Y 2 PICK UP KEV …
XPLAIN L8R.
Sure enough, she found Melrose slouched in the back pew of the church, watching a poorly attended funeral. She was eating a stash of broken Oreos, her face streaked with tears. After having had just a taste of what it felt like to be a runaway herself, Lexi knew right there and then that she had to help this poor girl—or at least try. And before the priest had finished his eulogy, she had come up with a brilliant plan.
17
FRETTING AT THE MET
“Up and at ’em, kids!” Aunt Roz sang, parading through the living room first thing Saturday morning. “You don’t want to sleep away our Day of Family Fun!”
At least Friday was over. It had been the second most horrible day of Lexi’s life. Between the terrifying experience in the bowels of Grand Central, Sophie’s death, and then being mistaken for a runaway, Lexi couldn’t decide which was worse. Thank goodness she had heard those church bells—a definite sign from the universe. And even though the plan she had come up with at St. Agnes was risky and broke so many rules you could never keep count, Lexi knew deep inside she was doing the right thing. Now she would have to skillfully maneuver her way through Aunt Roz’s DOFF, which wouldn’t be easy. Part one, as it turned out, was a breakfast of hot dogs and smoothies at the neighborhood Papaya King. And part two? Lexi’s choice: the Metropolitan Museum of Art.
You could spot it from blocks away, the museum—right on Fifth Avenue, flanked by enormous pillars and big, colorful banners rippling in the breeze. It was almost like some classy white palace, if the king and queen allowed dozens of tourists to sit on their endless front steps, gawking, snacking, and taking pictures. Aunt Roz insisted they go straight up to the European paintings section, so they could soak in the masterpieces of the French Impressionists, like Renoir, Monet, and Degas. Kevin was busy texting Space Camp Billy but Lexi really absorbed all the art. She liked the colorful flower paintings mostly and the misty landscapes, but what really drew her attention was a bronze ballerina statue wearing a real cotton skirt and a faded satin hair ribbon called The Little Fourteen-Year-Old Dancer, by Edgar Degas.
“Whoa, the model for this was a real live girl who danced with the Paris Opera,” Lexi told Aunt Roz, reading the plaque at the base. She studied the rigid ballerina up close. “Way to go, mademoiselle.”
Lexi had to remind herself not to get too caught up in her surroundings, though, and focus on business. She needed to keep her eye on the clock if she was to carry out her plan on time. Plus, this was the museum where Cleopatra’s jewels were headed when they got ripped off, which was why she chose it in the first place. There was potential sniffing around to do.
“I always get so emotional, drinking in these wonderful works of art,” Aunt Roz said dreamily. “The first time I saw Woman with Chrysanthemums, I actually cried.”
“Oh, that’s so sweet,” Lexi said.
“So, all they have here,” Kevin asked, “is just, like—art?”
“No. There’s ice-fishing on the lower level,” Lexi said sarcastically. “Kevin, it’s called the Metropolitan Museum of—”
“I know, I know.”
Lexi unfolded her museum map in Kevin’s face and zeroed in on it. “The Temple of Dendur sounds interesting. It’s an Egyptian monument from fifteen BCE—in the Sackler Wing, downstairs, part of the giant Egyptian Art section. I’m sure they have a ton of mummified stuff even a ten-year-old boy with the attention span of a gnat might like.” Her head popped up over the map and she glanced down at Kevin. “And probably info on Cleopatra.”
“Oh, okay,” he said, obviously catching her drift. “Let’s go!”
What Lexi was hoping to find there, she wasn’t quite sure. Slivers of clues maybe? Mystical vibes? Something.
“Well, the Met was your pick, Alexandra, so lead the way,” Aunt Roz said. “Kevin can be in charge when we get to the planetarium.”
They started through the maze of art-filled rooms with Lexi in front wrestling with the map; Kevin a few steps behind, snapping photos; and Aunt Roz pulling up the rear, unwrapping a hard candy she had dug out of her straw tote. “It’s terrible, isn’t it?” she said, and popped the candy into her mouth. “That Cleopatra jewel heist—well, they probably weren’t really her jewels but that’s what they’re calling them in the press even though there was no actual proof.”
Lexi came to a standstill. Suddenly she was stiffer than The Little Fourteen-Year-Old Dancer.
“You kids must’ve heard about it, right? There’s so much hoopla. It was supposed to be opening here next week, the Queen of the Nile exhibit.”
Kevin and Lexi gave each other blank looks—with a layer of knowing-all-too-well-what-she-was-talking-about underneath.
“They charge extra for those special exhibits,” Aunt Roz went on, “which is absolutely ludicrous. Or am I thinking of the Museum of Natural History? Hard candy?”
“The ones with the fruity centers?” Kevin asked, scrunching up his nose. “Pass.”
“No? Alexandra?”
“No, thanks. Oh, look,” she said, pointing down the hall, “stairs!” They had conveniently come into view so she grabbed Kevin and took off in a power-walk toward the top of the staircase.
“I suppose that doesn’t matter a fig at this point anyway,” Aunt Roz said, trotting to catch up with them and sucking on her candy, “since the doggone jewels vanished into thin air. Kiss that exhibit good-bye. Such a shame. I was really looking forward to it.”
In the Egyptian Art section on the main level, Lexi did her best to change the sticky subject of Cleopatra’s jewels, but how could she? They were knee-deep in creepy sarcophagi, relics, and pharaoh statues. At least Kevin was being cooperative. Letting him in on her secret plan before leaving the house was definitely the right decision—but the whole “pulling yet another one over on Aunt Roz” thing was tearing up her insides like a paper shredder.
“There was supposed to be a fabulous emerald necklace too,” Aunt Roz said, studying a stone relief of Cleopatra’s head from the Ptolemaic period. “Emeralds were her favorite, so they say.”
Would she ever let up about the jewel heist and the special exhibit? By the time they had reached the wing where the Temple of Dendur stood, Lexi was about to spontaneously combust from nervousness. “I need to sit,” she said, perching at the end of a large black pool peppered with coins.
Aunt Roz politely nodded at two security guards strolling by. “Maybe we should all take a little break.”
“No, you guys go ahead. Seriously. I’ll be here by this reflecting pool … reflecting.”
The room was sunny and open with a big wall of tilted windows overlooking Central Park. Lexi watched as Kevin and Aunt Roz disappeared between the pillars of one of the ancient sandstone temples on display, and hugged t
he map to her chest. Hmm, maybe if I really concentrate, I can pick up something from the spirit of Cleopatra herself. Or is that too crazy? I mean, if anyone’s going to know where her missing jewels are … She mentally hit “select-all-delete” to erase her thoughts and make room for incoming messages. Nothing at first. Then, slowly but surely, a caravan of camels began floating through her mind—and sand. Lots of sand. Think jewels—not deserts. She tried for a few more minutes, but all she ended up with was a dry mouth, a throbbing headache, and a case of the heebie-jeebies.
“Yeah, he was just a normal, friendly guy—smart as a whip, had everything going for him. Next thing you know, he’s an international fugitive. Every time I click on the news now, it’s ‘Benjamin Deets this and Benjamin Deets that.’ Crazy world.”
Lexi’s eyes popped open. And if her ears could have perked up any more, they would have sprung from her head. The two security guards who had been reminding people to turn off their flashes were standing next to the reflecting pool having a loudish conversation about the perp.
“You know, I saw him right out that window one time after he got the boot,” the man went on, “trimming hedges in the park. Not that there’s anything wrong with that—lots of folks enjoy that line of work, but to go from director of security … you know what I mean?”
“Yeah,” the female security guard agreed.
“I heard he even used to have a cushy side job at some television network as a—whaddya call it?—you know, like, when they call in professionals on shows to make sure everything looks genuine.”
“Consultant?”
“A consultant, that’s it. He was at the top of his game and he flushed it all down the toilet—and for what? Revenge? Crazy world.”
“Crazy world.”
Lexi couldn’t believe she was eavesdropping again. Revenge, she repeated in her mind so she wouldn’t forget. Consultant. Trimming hedges in the park. She followed the guards as they wandered through the Sackler Wing in starts and stops, hoping to pick up more revealing tidbits of conversation about Benjamin Deets. Unfortunately, she never heard another word—except for “Miss, miss? You with the red curly hair. Please don’t lean on the exhibit.”
“Oh. Sorry.”
She had almost bolted, but the words “From Cleopatra’s Needle” caught her eye. They were on the plaque next to the glass case she had illegally been leaning on. Shoot, needle, oval disk, park flashed in her brain in neon as she studied the deformed-looking bronze crab that was on display inside the case. According to the plaque, it was from 13 BCE, Roman period, a gift of Henry H. Gorringe, 1881, and had originally been part of an ancient Egyptian monument that still stood in Central Park. Needle and park! Her heartbeat quickened. She and Kim Ling had originally thought needle had something to do with drugs and park was Park Avenue—but since they had ruled out Grand Central as the spot where the jewels were buried, all the clues were up for grabs again. Until now. That’s two clues in one—a doubleheader. Major score! I have to tell Kim Ling!
Aunt Roz and Kevin caught up with her seconds later, so it wasn’t until their taxicab ride on the way to the Rose Center for Earth and Science that Lexi had the chance to text her news to Kim Ling. And then it was 2:45. Time for her own plan to go into full swing. Juggling two undercover operations at the same time might drive her off the deep end, but she had to do what she had to do. So she faked a bad headache and told Aunt Roz she had better drop her off at the apartment first, that she needed some Tylenol plus a nice, long nap for fear of missing their big night out.
Talk about guilt—now her lies had become even more complicated, involving cheap theatrics and over-the-counter drugs.
18
LIBRARY OF LIPS
“Were you kids rolling around in the mud at City Camp yesterday?” Aunt Roz asked Lexi a few hours later. She was at the white vanity table in her bedroom brushing her hair in the mirror, prepping for Part Two of their DOFF: homemade dinner and a show. “There’s a ring around the tub that’ll need to be sandblasted off.”
“Yeah, we did get pretty filthy playing soccer,” Lexi answered in a mousy voice, as if the softer the lie, the less it counted against you. “Sorry.” Dressed and ready, she was sitting on the window seat, fiddling with the drapes and clicking her pink kitten-heel pumps. Even though her heart was rattling underneath, it still felt nice being all dressed up and girly—especially after being covered in grunge and smelling like a sweaty goat only twenty-four hours earlier.
“Feeling better, sweetheart?”
“Much.”
“Too bad you missed that planetarium show, ‘Journey to the Stars.’ It was awe-inspiring.”
“I know—Kevin keeps going on and on about it. I did have a really good time at the museum, though.” And picked up some really good clues!
“Good.” Aunt Roz gave her a look over her shoulder that lingered. “Don’t have a conniption fit, but do you know what would look absolutely fabulous with your outfit?”
Of course she knew. Those hateful black pearls that Clare had sent. They would go perfectly with the pink-and-gray dress Lexi was wearing. It was her most sophisticated outfit, even though it was straight off the clearance rack at Target.
“My opal necklace goes with everything.” Plus, she believed if she ever took it off, that disaster would strike—but that part she kept to herself.
“Yes, dear,” Aunt Roz said, her mascara wand coming to a standstill, “that looks lovely too.” She sent Lexi a knowing smile via the mirror, then went back to applying gobs of mascara over the gobs that were already there. “We really should give Mark and Clare a call to thank them for your gifts, don’t you think? And tomorrow is Father’s Day. That’ll be perfect.” She moved on to her lips, outlining them in a brownish pencil and coloring them in with a deep cranberry-red lipstick, then carefully blotted her mouth on a tissue and tossed it into a wicker waste-basket. “Oh, and in case you’re wondering, I took the pearls out of the fish tank and put them in the lacquer box on the coffee table. I was afraid the clasp might rust.”
Lexi felt she should speak just to fill up the dead air but nothing came out.
“Well, I’d better go check on the chicken. Our guest will be arriving soon.” Aunt Roz spritzed the air with two blasts of perfume and lingered in the cloud for a second before sweeping into the living room.
“This is the proper way to apply it, cookie. Spray, stay, and walk away. So the scent isn’t too overpowering.”
Her mom’s voice played in Lexi’s head as she breathed in the flowery scent and watched the mist disintegrate into nothingness. Her gaze fell onto the crumpled tissue with the lipstick smear and her heart went numb. Lexi had watched her mom do it a thousand times: after putting on her lipstick, she would carefully blot her lips on a folded tissue, then add it to a neat stack in the little top drawer of her antique dresser. A library of lips.
“Mom, why do you save your lip prints?” she had asked her one day, just after she had turned eight.
Her mother had stopped what she was doing, like she was caught off guard.
“For posterity?” she said with an awkward shrug. “Force of habit? It’s just a silly little game.” She studied the tissue in her hand as if she were thinking even further back in time. “Let’s see. The first one I ever saved—I think it was because the lip print came out so plump and perfect. I thought it was pretty, like a little work of art. Then before you know it …” Her fingers started digging their way through the thick stack. “You know, it must still be in here, the good one. Way at the—oh, here it is!” And she slipped the original tissue out of the drawer and gently laid it onto Lexi’s palm.
“Cool,” Lexi said, and examined the lip print from all angles. “It really is perfect. Can I have it?”
“Really? I can’t imagine what for.”
“Just ‘cause.”
“All right. But—let’s just keep this between you and me, though, hon. I don’t want people thinking I’ve gone off the deep end.”
&n
bsp; Over the years, that tiny drawer got filled to the brim. And after her mom had passed away, Lexi knew those tissues were way too precious to throw out in the trash. So without telling a soul, she had stored the entire library of lips in a silk-lined hatbox under her bed. A lifetime of kisses at her fingertips.
The doorbell rang five times in a row and Lexi flew out of her trance and shot to her feet, clutching her opal necklace.
“That must be Kim Ling!” Aunt Roz called out from the kitchen.
“It’s showtime,” Lexi muttered to herself. She wasn’t at all convinced she could pull off the whopper of a stunt she had planned—but she was definitely about to find out.
19
ANGEL OF SILENCE
Lexi beat her aunt to the door, took a second to breathe, then pulled it open as if it were the ripcord on a parachute. “Last minute change of plans. Kim Ling couldn’t make it tonight, Aunt Roz, so I invited my new friend—”
“Melrose!” The runaway teen thrust out her arm and pumped Aunt Roz’s hand furiously. “How ya doin’?”
“A pleasure,” Aunt Roz said through a quivering smile.
“She’s my new BFF from City Camp,” Lexi squeaked out.
Her lies were lingering in the air like a bad smell. And Melrose was lingering in the doorway chewing her newly polished fingernail stubs and smelling like gardenias. Except for the ever-present purple bandanna, which she wore as a sort of headband, the girl was hardly recognizable with her clean blond hair flowing over the crisp white blouse Lexi had lent her. They were both skinny-minnies, so size wasn’t too much of an issue except for shoes—Melrose had canoes. But Lexi’s stretchy ballet flats did the trick.
She had transformed this street urchin into someone presentable and all under an hour and a half. It had been quite a feat convincing Melrose to come in the first place, but the promise of a bubble bath and a home-cooked meal had sealed the deal. Sneaking her into the apartment past Kim Ling’s radar was feat number two; and choosing an outfit that didn’t make her gag was big fat feat number three.