by John J. Bonk
“Slight change of plans,” she said. “My mom freakin’ booked us on a freakin’ Father’s Day dinner cruise tonight, unbeknownst to me. It’s the early bird one so we can still make it to the park by around twenty-one hundred hours.”
“What’s that in human time?” Lexi asked, plopping down next to her.
“Nine.”
“Are we sure we want to do this? I’m not even supposed to leave the brownstone, let alone venture into the park at night. The more I think about it, the stupider the whole thing seems. I mean, who in their right mind buries a bunch of jewels in Central Park?”
“Who in their right mind thinks criminals are in their right minds? Didn’t you hear the latest on Benjamin Deets? Apparently, he pulled some pretty outrageous pranks during his college days at NYU—like hacking into the school’s computer system and changing grades. That’s just for starters.”
“I saw that too!” Kevin shot across the room carrying his open laptop and sat between the girls. “Billy says a lot of criminally minded youth go into law enforcement. Looks like Deets did a full three-sixty right back into a life of crime.”
“He actually talks like that?” Kim Ling asked Kevin. “‘Criminally minded youth’? Sounds pretentious.”
“Maybe you two are related,” Lexi said with a smirk. “Oh, Kim, I meant to tell you. When we were at the Met, I was eavesdropping on some security guards …”
“You do that a lot, don’t you? And?”
“They were talking about Deets. How he’d had everything in life, and now he had nothing and wanted revenge.”
“Against the Met for firing him,” Kim Ling said, thinking about it. “Makes sense. And revenge, like that scab on your shin, can get really, really ugly.”
Lexi stretched her nightgown over her knees as far as it would go and stuck out her tongue as far as it would go.
“So,” Kevin said, scratching his chin as a Saturn screensaver spun onto his laptop, “Deets winds up with a job as a Central Park groundskeeper, right?” His eyebrows jumped. “That means he could be digging around Cleopatra’s Needle all he wants and never be suspected of foul play.”
“Exactly!” Kim Ling rose to her knees with a victory grunt worthy of a football jock. “Nice work, you guys. How stoked am I that this is all beginning to make sense!”
Lexi was still wallowing in doubt, but Kim Ling seemed unstoppable. Her enthusiasm was a lot like quicksand—bubbly but deadly.
“Okay, let’s get real here.” Lexi hugged her knees tightly and spun to face Kim Ling. “How dangerous do you think this whole mission’s gonna be tonight? Honestly. On a risk-your-life scale from one to ten—ten being you’re-crazy-for-even-attempting-this?”
“Oh, about a fifty.”
“What?”
“Well, think about it,” Kim Ling said, sitting back on her heels. “These are thieves we’re dealing with, so anything could happen. Then again, it might all turn out to be just a stroll in the park. Ha! No pun intended.” She snorted, glancing at the McGills’ blank expressions. “And apparently none noticed.”
“A fifty?” Kevin said. “For real?”
“You don’t have to tag along, sprout. Nobody’s holding a gun to your—I mean, if you want, you could spend the evening with the Family Levine, which is an adventure unto itself.” Kim Ling tousled his hair and sprang to her feet. “You guys work it out, but I’ve got to jet.” Then she made a mad dash to the door and did an about-face. “So, Lex, we’ll rendezvous on the front stoop at twenty-thirty hours with or without the sib.”
“Speak English.”
“Sib-ling. Eight thir-ty,” she said, spelling the words out in sign language. “Just come carbo-loaded for energy, and wear dark clothes and sensible shoes. Oh, and pray, pray, pray it doesn’t rain. I’ll have the rest covered.” A burst of excitement had her drum-rolling on the doorframe. “I’m totally psyched, aren’t you?”
Quicksand.
As soon as she left, Kevin slammed the laptop shut and popped up like a done piece of toast. “I’m definitely going with you!” he announced.
“Are not. You could stay with Kim’s parents, like she said.”
“Listen, Billy got to experience weightlessness in an actual Space Shot simulator. Me? I get dumped at City Camp for a lame game of Red Rover while you and Kim Ling go off and have all the fun—so you’ve gotta give me something. I’m going!”
“I’m still not a hundred percent sure I’m even going. This is idiotic and dangerous—and you’re only ten, Kev, seriously.”
He fell face-first onto the chaise lounge. “I’m not a baby. Why’re you always acting like I’m afraid of every little thing?”
Because he was afraid of every little thing—they just never talked about it. “You know why.” Lexi rolled him over and glared down at him over folded arms. “Two words: Kingsley Park.”
Kevin just lay there, gritting his teeth. “Okay, maybe I freak out once in a while on amusement rides—or in tunnels,” he said, sitting up, his cheeks turning bloodred, “but other than that, I’m fine! I’ve been fine for a really long time.”
“Oh, really? I think not.”
“Yuh-huh.” He shot to his feet. “You’re the one who still has to see Dr. Lucy every Saturday, Lexi—not me!”
Ouch. That was something else Lexi had never talked about. And definitely tried not to think about between therapist appointments. Ever.
“Admit it, Kevin. The only reason you wanna come with is ‘cause I don’t want you to, which is tough ‘cause I’m in charge and what I say goes. Case closed.”
Kevin flapped his arms like a frustrated penguin and zoomed out the front door.
“Hey,” Lexi said, chasing him, “you’re not allowed to go outside alone.”
“I’m just gonna sit on the front steps, Mother!”
He did not just say that! “Don’t talk to strangers. Under any circumstances. I don’t care how brave you think you are all of a sudden.”
Lexi slammed the door, then rushed to the window and peeked through bended blinds, waiting for Kevin to appear on the porch below. Geez, she really was acting like a smothering mother. What was happening to her? She slowly slunk away and—“Ow!”—stepped on a corner of that chunky black book—the one Kim Ling had knocked out of place. She was about to give it a good kick but the title caught her eye: The Book of Answers by Carol Bolt. “Sounds promising,” she muttered, and snatched it up. There were instructions on the back cover, so she hopped into bed and sat cross-legged reading them while she massaged her throbbing big toe. Apparently, the book worked like a Magic 8 Ball, answering life’s burning questions. Exactly what she needed.
Following the instructions, she held the book between both palms, stroking the edge of the pages back to front, while asking her question out loud. “Should I go to Central Park tonight with Kim Ling to dig up Cleopatra’s stolen jewels or is that as nutty an idea as I think?” Too complicated. She streamlined it to “Should I go to Central Park tonight?” Lexi repeated her question over and over again, feeling a bit idiotic, but stroking the pages anyway and visualizing the scene in the park. When she felt an inner ding, she cracked open the book. A feather fell out! White. Perfect. Whoa. Was it an odd coincidence? Or had she left one of her feathers lying around the apartment that Aunt Roz had used as a quick bookmark? Either way, it certainly added weight to the answer on the page. Lexi’s heartbeat sped up as she slowly lowered her gaze.
You will find out everything you’ll need to know.
22
THE PARK AFTER DARK
At 2030 hours, the sky was stuck somewhere between daytime and night, as if the sun was too stubborn to set and make way for the moon. The air was so breezeless and sticky even birds refused to take wing, but somehow Lexi remained cool and strangely calm on the way to their adventure in Central Park. She knew her guardian-angel mom was watching over her—that last white feather was a definite sign. So, of course she added it to her pocket of good luck charms: the rabbit’s foot keycha
in, laminated four-leaf clover, and nine shiny pennies. She would never reveal her superstitious quirks to anyone, not even Kevin, who she had decided could tag along just to end his whining—and avoid World War III.
The cab pulled up at Seventy-Ninth and Fifth, and Lexi’s hand flew out the door before she did, checking the weather. “Not a drop of rain. So far, so good.”
“Shhh!” Kim Ling hissed. She dragged Kevin and a deflated duffel out of the back seat and slammed the cab door. “Now you put a kenahara on it.”
Lexi’s face scrunched up. “A what?”
“A Yiddish jinx. You can’t brag about things going right or they’ll fail. Pu-pu-pu!” she puffed, doing a ritualistic kind of fake spitting on her fingers as she led the way into Central Park. “Not that I believe in that drivel, you understand, but why risk it?”
“No, I totally get it.” Lexi had never seen Kim Ling’s superstitious side before. She was starting to think they had more in common than either of them was willing to admit. “So, what’s with the empty bag?”
“It’s not empty. There’re flashlights and gardening trowels inside. Besides, how else’re we supposed to haul off the jewels—in your pink clutch?”
“I don’t have a pink clutch. Well, I do, but not with me.”
“Okay, we’re entering the park now,” Kevin reported into his cell phone to Space Camp Billy. He had been gabbing away during the entire cab ride, much to the annoyance of Kim Ling. “What? No. I’ll call you later—I’ve really gotta go. Yes, I’m serious—over and out.”
Lexi grabbed his hand. She had already warned him that due to the extreme circumstances, the mothering thing would be in full swing and he had better not even think about complaining. “I can’t believe we’re actually doing this. I’m a little bit freaking out.” She automatically reached for her opal necklace, which was missing of course, and grasped the safety whistle hanging in its place. Kim Ling had supplied one for each of them.
“If the authorities stop us in the middle of everything,” Kim Ling said quietly over the clink-clink-clinking of her bag, “we tell them we’re digging up night crawlers to go fishing, okay? And, worst case scenario, if we actually run into the thieves face-to-face, we hightail it the heck out of here—no questions asked. Try not to split up, but if we do, we’ll meet on the corner where the cab just let us out—Seventy-Ninth and Fifth. Got it?”
“Roger that,” Kevin said.
Lexi took a deep breath. She chipped away at her thumbnail polish as they followed the road alongside the Metropolitan Museum’s giant sloping wall of windows that were glowing orange in the hot, sluggish sunset. When they stopped at a 3-D map sprouting up from the ground to check their route, Lexi was already dripping in sweat. “How could you wear a black turtleneck in this heat?” she asked Kim Ling. “It’s not like we’re robbing a bank.”
“Who cares what I’m wearing? How is that helping?”
Strangely enough, Lexi’s conversation with the yogini popped into her head. “You know, Alexandra actually means mankind’s helper,” she said matter-of-factly, gathering her hair off her neck. “Isn’t that cool? You know how names have meanings?”
Kim Ling’s finger went from the map to her own face. “Chinese, remember? We practically invented that stuff. Kim Ling, roughly translated, means tinkling jade.”
“Pretty.”
A desperate moan came out of Kevin. “Tinkling? Oh, great—now I have to pee!”
Kim Ling muttered something about sucking it up and, seeming assured of their direction, she took off with purpose in her step, leading Kevin and Lexi past some shadowy joggers and speeding bicyclists until they came to the underpass of a fancy stone bridge she called the Greywacke Arch. She dug two flashlights out of her duffel, switched them on, and did a quick safety scan of the dark tunnel before handing one flashlight to Kevin and venturing inside.
“I’m not a big fan of tunnels,” he grumbled, and they all started running at breakneck speed.
It was eye-wateringly smelly but short, thank goodness. And when they emerged from the tunnel, gulping heaps of fresh air, night was finally taking hold, thick and starless.
“Look!” Kevin swung his light beam to the pointy top of Cleopatra’s Needle, the huge stone obelisk, which was jutting out from the trees not too far away. “That’s it, right, Kim? It’s awesome.”
“Ānjìng!” she said. “Quiet! We’re trying to keep a low profile.”
“Sorry.”
She looked around to make sure no one was watching, and shined her light on the obelisk too. “Did you know that sucker weighs two hundred and forty tons?” she said quietly. “It has a twin in London and there’s another one in Paris—and get this: they’re all called Cleopatra’s Needle, yet they’re not even connected to Queen Cleopatra. Strange but true. They were already over a thousand years old in her lifetime.”
“Well, someone’s been doing her homework,” Lexi whispered, craning her neck to get a better view. “It kinda looks like the Washington Monument, huh?”
“The Washington Monument isn’t covered in hieroglyphics.”
“I said kinda!”
Side by sweaty side, the threesome scurried down the dirt path and around the bend, where a small crowd was gathered at the foot of the steps leading to the courtyard where the obelisk stood. It was magnificent, seeing it even closer—like an enormous dagger awash in light, piercing the ebony sky. Kim Ling mumbled that something strange was definitely going on—but it was hard to tell exactly what that was with trees blocking their full view. They slipped past a bunch of people holding panting pugs and bent down to peek through a curtain of droopy junipers. The entire courtyard was buzzing with activity. It was outlined in bright yellow CRIME SCENE DO NOT CROSS tape, and glowing brighter than Times Square.
“What’s happening?” Lexi said, her heart sputtering in her chest. “You don’t think—”
Kevin gasped, and Kim Ling’s eyes went round as the full moon.
“I knew we should’ve come last night!” she said. “We’re too freakin’ late!”
No! After everything they had gone through, had the authorities beaten them to the buried treasure by a matter of hours—or minutes?
Kim Ling was slumped over like a slain gladiator, cursing in angry Chinese. So it was Lexi who dared approach a Frankensteinish policeman who was guarding the steps.
“What’s happening, officer?”
“This area is closed off to the general public,” he told her.
“Why?” Kim Ling asked, springing to life. “Did they find the jewels?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about. C’mon, people, break it up—you’re blocking the pathway.”
“Bullcrackers!” Kim Ling said, and took off in a huff.
Lexi was right behind her with Kevin in tow, her stomach turning sour and sick.
They hurried up a patchy hill to the only other entrance to the glowing courtyard, but there was another small crowd gathered behind a lineup of metal, fence-like police barriers. Glimpses of cops, cameras, and cables could be seen through spiky tree branches, but that was about it.
“It’s useless, Kim,” Lexi said, looking around and chewing her thumbnail. “Maybe we should just go home and find out what happened on TV.”
“No way, José. We’ve come this far. I’m not leaving till I get firsthand info.”
It was probably wise to let Kim Ling be her usual bossy self and call all the shots, Lexi figured, since Central Park at night was no place for one of their ugly spats. And so once again, she and Kevin followed her clomping combat boots, this time over a carpet of thick ivy, until they settled behind a tangle of skinny, curvy trees where they could spy on the crime scene just a few yards away.
A tall brute of a woman in a Foo Fighters T-shirt seemed to be running the show. Either an undercover cop or news crew techie—they couldn’t decide which. She was holding a walkie-talkie and having a heated conversation with some man sitting on a bench in the courtyard. Nothing too st
range about that.
“Hey, what’s this?” Kevin said, and the girls immediately shushed him. He was aiming his flashlight beam on a splotch of purple material dangling from the lowest tree branch. “Someone’s T-shirt?” he whispered. “No—looks like a bandanna.”
“Don’t touch it,” Lexi warned. “You don’t know where it’s been.”
His curious eyes examined it up close. “It looks kinda like the one Melrose wore. Same color and everything. Don’t you think that’s weird?”
Lexi’s mind was instantly racing, wondering how it could possibly have wound up there. “Yes,” she said. “Very weird.”
Kim Ling shined her light on it, sending an astonished-looking squirrel scampering straight up the tree. “Definitely curious, but—there must be hundreds of purple bandannas lying around New York City.” She thought about it for a second. “Well, at least a few. No big deal.”
Just as Kevin plucked it off the branch anyway, the argument between the Foo Fighter lady and the man on the bench reached fever pitch. The kids all turned their heads to listen.
“This is absolutely ridiculous,” the man yelled in a thick British accent. “How long am I to remain captive on this bloody bench, in this godforsaken heat and this bloody, bloody humidity?”
Lexi grabbed on to Kim Ling’s arm in a sudden panic. “Omigod.”
“What is it?”
Her lips were forming words but no sound was coming, since her heart was lodged in her throat.
“What?” Kevin asked.
“I think that’s—him,” she finally muttered.
“Him?” Kim Ling repeated.
“One of the guys I saw in the Whispering Gallery. You know, the thief, the thug, the perp!”
An eruption of rolling thunder could not have been more perfectly timed. It shook the earth. Shook Lexi to the core.
“Okay, red, calm down. Are you sure that’s the guy?”