by John J. Bonk
“All clear down here!” someone shouted from below. “No sign of any intruders inside the building.”
Mr. Levine looked instantly relieved. “The alarm must’ve scared them off.” With a rattling exhale, he turned to the gaggle of tenants peppered on the steps. “It’s all over, folks,” he announced. “Nothing to be afraid of. Just double-lock your doors and go back to bed.”
“But just in case …” Kim Ling leaned into the door again and yelled, “The cops’ll be here any minute, sicko! So, if anyone’s still out there, FYI, you’re gonna fry!” She turned back, seeming pleased with herself. “That ought to do the—”
Suddenly the door burst open and something came charging in like a wild bull escaping its chute. Shrieks from the tenants. Lexi squealed too and went tripping down the stairs. Through a blur of railing spindles above her she could see flailing limbs and flying hair. There was a furious tussle. A high-pitched scream and then bang!
“You!” Kim Ling shouted.
“Stop—don’t!” Lexi cried out, thinking she had heard a gunshot. She turned to realize Kim Ling’s bat had slammed down onto the banister to trap the intruder. “Melrose Merritt!” Exactly as she had feared.
“You know this girl?” Mr. Levine turned to ask Lexi.
That was when Melrose ducked under the bat to make a run for it. Mr. Levine caught her by the arm and she struggled and squawked—squirming to break free like a wet fish on a hook.
“Yes, let her go! She’s a friend.”
With a confused look on his face, he unhanded Melrose and everything came to a standstill. They slowly backed away from each other, panting heavily and examining scratches on their arms and wrists.
“Friend,” Kim Ling scoffed, “yeah, right.” She cautiously moved in on Melrose like a lioness stalking her soaking-wet prey. “You’ve got some nerve. What the heck are you doing here?”
“I—was invited,” Melrose answered, catching her breath.
“What? Invited by whom, may I ask?”
“The queen of freakin’ England. Who d’ya think?”
Kim Ling followed Melrose’s glare down to Lexi, who was crouched on the fifth floor stairwell, hand over mouth. “Well? Do you have something to say, your majesty?”
A sour panic rose inside Lexi so fast she could taste it. She boosted herself up to her feet and reluctantly started to climb, chewing her bottom lip and thinking she had better fess up.
“Kim Ling!” Mrs. Levine’s piercing voice came echoing through the stairwell. “What’s happening? You get your butt downstairs right now!”
“Don’t worry, Mom,” Kim Ling called out. “It’s all over.”
“False alarm,” Mr. Levine said. “Come down, come down. You give me coronary!”
“Mom, really—just go back to bed. That goes for everyone!”
“Easy for you to say,” Mr. Findlay yelled up from the fourth floor. “This whole building’s going to pot!”
“That’s not fair, Arthur!” Mr. Levine yelled back. He went tripping down the steps to the sound of doors slamming, locks clicking, and chain bolts sliding into place.
With an argument grumbling up from the floor below, Lexi slowly approached Melrose. “Life and death emergencies only,” she reminded her in barely a whisper. “So was it?” Melrose’s non-response was answer enough. “Great. And after I risked my neck to help you out.”
“If by help you mean use.”
“What?”
“Never mind.”
“What’re you talking about?” Kim Ling asked, tuning in to the conversation.
“Nothing,” Melrose spat.
“Spill your guts right now or I call nine-one-one and you’re doing five to ten for breaking and entering.”
Melrose palmed the rain off her face, her cagey eyes darting from Kim Ling to Lexi and back again. “You guys were just usin’ me,” she said, crossing her goose-pimply arms. “The both of you, and you know it. Bribin’ me to take you through the tunnels in Grand Central—on some lame treasure hunt for Cleopatra’s jewels.”
Lexi gasped.
“Oh, don’t look so surprised. I heard you guys talkin’ all about it through the door when I was here for dinner the other night. I’m not as dumb as you look.”
There was the slapping sound of bare feet on concrete and all heads turned as Kevin came barreling up the steps. “Well, if the treasure hunt was so lame,” he said, moving in on Melrose, “then why’d you go searching for the jewels yourself in Central Park? Huh? Trying to beat us to the punch?”
“I don’t know what you’re talkin’ about.”
“We found proof!” He produced the purple bandanna from behind his back and waved it in her face like a flag of victory.
“Hey, gimme!” she said, swiping it. “I’ve been lookin’ all over for that!”
“Ahha!” Kevin exclaimed. “I rest my case.”
Melrose had the guiltiest look on her face but she shrugged it off. “So, I double-crossed a buncha double-crossers—big whoop. I’d have to be brain-dead not to at least check it out.” And she tied the filthy bandanna on her upper arm like some princess warrior. “The reward money’s supposed to be a freakin’ fortune—and in case you ain’t noticed, I could really use the cash.”
“See!” Kim Ling said, turning to Lexi, “I told you we never should’ve trusted—” She stopped midsentence. Her eyes narrowed. “Wait, back up. What did she say before about dinner?”
Lexi’s insides instantly crumbled into dust. “Oh, crud.”
“Uh, excuse me, blondie—and I use the term loosely—exactly when were you here for dinner?”
“Saturday night,” Melrose answered without hesitation. She plunged her hand into the top of her borrowed blouse, which was now a wet, see-through, dirty mess, and pulled out the long pink ribbon holding the key to the brownstone. “That’s when Lexi gave me this—which was how I got in tonight, if you must know.”
I cannot believe I’m being stabbed in the back right in front of my face!
Kim Ling’s cheeks went red with rage. “Uh-uh, no way,” she said, turning to Lexi. “Please tell me you did not give the key to our brownstone to a psycho runaway.”
“Just a copy.”
“Just a—ugh! Have you lost what’s left of your so-called mind?” She ripped the key off of Melrose’s neck and fisted it.
“Hey! Don’t call me a psycho or I’ll rearrange your face!”
“Bring it on—psycho!”
Just as they were about to go at it big time, Aunt Roz came rushing up the steps, crying, “Girls, for heaven’s sake!” and flew right in between them, shielding her face like an awkward referee. She quickly managed to separate the two—Melrose against the banister and Kim Ling against the wall—and planted herself in the middle with her hands on her hips, breathing heavily. “Kevin, honey, go downstairs before you get hurt.”
“But—”
“No buts. Go!” She had switched to her no-nonsense voice, so Kevin took off immediately. “What’s going on, girls?” she said, plucking out her earplugs one by one. “Really. Why is Melrose here at this hour—and why are you behaving like wild animals? I thought she was your friend from City Camp.”
“Oh, please,” Kim Ling said with a scowl. “More like runaway street trash we met in Grand Central—not City Camp, Ms. M. There is no City Camp. Well, there is, obviously, but we’ve been ditching it this whole time.” She gave Lexi a poisonous glare. “Your precious niece has been hiding things from you since the day she arrived—and apparently she’s pulled a few over on me, too.”
Her surge of hateful words knocked the air right out of Lexi.
“What is she talking about, Alexandra?”
“Wait a second,” Melrose snarled, getting into Kim Ling’s face. “Now you’re callin’ me street trash?”
“Well, hobo is so dated.”
“Kim, that’s enough!” Mr. Levine was standing on the top step—his neck pulsing so fiercely, it looked like a jugular was about to blow. “And
did I just hear you say you ditched camp? If you think you’re getting away with that, young lady, you’ve got another think—”
Kim Ling started making excuses but a violent crack of thunder shut her up—and sent Lexi’s heart racing even faster than it already had been. She hugged herself tightly, wondering if she was still asleep and this was all one big, horrible nightmare. Had a single good intention ever gone so wrong?
“I want that trash off our property right now, Dad. And I want her out, too!”
It took a second for Lexi to realize that Kim Ling was pointing directly at her—the wave of hot anger radiating out of the girl felt like heat from an oven. Lexi had never seen her so vicious. Pushy and obnoxious, yes, but not vicious. Lexi just stood there, rubbing the hollow of her neck where her opal necklace should have been hanging, comforting her. She was struggling for something to say—anything that would make the situation even a tiny bit better, when a loud crash came from the roof deck.
Everyone froze.
“Okay, that was not thunder.” Mr. Levine gestured for the group to stand back. He tightened his rope belt, scooped up the bat, and cautiously approached the metal door. “Who’s out there?” he yelled. “Hello?”
“Melrose, did you come alone?” Aunt Roz whispered.
“Yes!”
“We obviously can’t believe a word she says,” Kim Ling blurted.
Mr. Levine positioned the bat like a battering ram, then, to shouts of “Dad, be careful!” and “Joel, don’t!” he barged through the door with a resounding boom! The rain was hammering the ground in a thick, crooked sheet, the fierce, howling wind blowing pink petals across the roof deck. Broken pots of hydrangeas could be seen along the roofline just beyond the inside-out patio umbrella. Kim Ling warily joined her father on the rooftop while Lexi and Aunt Roz huddled against the doorjamb watching. No one was out there. It was clear that the wind was the culprit and the noise had come from the crashing pots.
Mr. Levine dashed back inside, dripping wet, and trudged down the steps with the bat still in hand. Kim Ling followed him in but came to an abrupt stop. “Where’s—what happened to Melrose?”
Lexi and Aunt Roz whipped their heads around. The runaway had disappeared.
“Snaggit!” Kim Ling shrieked. “I apologize in advance, Ms. M., for what you’re about to hear.” And with that, she thundered down the stairs, letting real curse words fly for all six flights; then she slammed her apartment door so hard the banisters shook.
A sudden thrash of cold rain had Lexi and Aunt Roz struggling to close the rooftop door against the merciless wind. “I can’t believe Melrose just took off like that,” Lexi said. “Again.” Beware of ill-fated entanglements ran across her mind like a smirking screen saver. And—shoot—why didn’t I confront her about stealing my necklace while I had the chance?
Without even thinking about it, Lexi wound up sitting with her aunt on the top step. Damp and stupefied.
“That scared the bejesus out of me.” Aunt Roz brushed a clump of hair off Lexi’s forehead, looking beyond flustered. “What you kids have put me through tonight must’ve taken ten years off my life. First the park and now this. Honestly.” She clutched the top of her robe and sighed. “And I still don’t have a grasp of what’s going on. Why was Melrose here? And what was Kimmy saying during that hissy fit of hers—about runaways—and trash?”
It was almost funny but not quite. With what had just played out, Lexi figured it was time to come 100 percent clean to her aunt about the whole situation. She owed her that—at least. So, she took her aunt’s hand and a shaky breath, then confessed it all. Cutting City Camp to hunt for Cleopatra’s jewels, taking the subway, sneaking Melrose into the apartment for a bath and a change of clothes, hiding the eyeglasses at Radio City. Everything. It felt freeing. And yet … horrible. She ended with a sincere apology for all the secrets she had been keeping.
“Secrets?” Aunt Roz slipped her hand away from Lexi’s. “You mean lies.”
A wave of ferocious rain hit the metal door, sounding like a round of machine-gun fire. The expression on her aunt’s face was even worse than earlier in the park. Too much for Lexi to bear. “I’m sorry. Really sorry.” She waited for “That’s okay, sweetheart” or “All’s well that ends well”—the usual upbeat Aunt Roz response. Cold silence. Enough to send an icy shiver up Lexi’s spine.
“I think your dad and Clare should end their trip early to come get you and your brother. I’ll phone them first thing in the morning.”
Lexi couldn’t object. Or speak even. She wiped the rain off her face, or tears—she couldn’t tell which—and stared into her aunt’s tired, wounded eyes.
“And of course you’re completely grounded. Is that what they still call it? Oh, Alexandra. I’m so disappointed in you.”
25
RED DRESSES
The stillness that filled the apartment Monday morning should have been a welcome thing, considering the insanity of the last few days. But it definitely wasn’t I-feel-like-cracking-open-a-book stillness; more like funeral-parlor stillness. Or waiting for an algebra exam. As promised, before leaving for rehearsal, Aunt Roz had made the dreaded phone call to Lexi’s dad, who was somewhere in Greece. He and Clare would arrange to be in New York on Wednesday to pick up Lexi and Kevin—and no, he didn’t need to speak to them. It wasn’t going to be pretty. Aunt Roz had been giving Lexi the silent treatment, complete with looks of deep disappointment every time she breezed by. Every single time! She only spoke once to lay down the law: “Until you’re packed and leaving for Cold Spring, you are absolutely not to step foot off the front stoop of this brownstone. Understood?”
So that’s where Lexi sat, on the concrete steps, which were still damp and gritty from last night’s storm, testing the limits of her house arrest. This was all wrong. She was a good girl—before New York City at least. She had always been a good girl, and good girls don’t get punished.
Lexi did a slow head roll and her neck crackled like a bowl of Rice Krispies—probably from all the stress. On her second roll to the right, she noticed a splotch of yellow at her feet. A legal pad? “BOONDOGGLE SUMMER” was scrawled across the first page in bold, aggressive caps. Kim Ling’s handwriting—it had to be. That essay for her journalism contest, no doubt. With a cautionary glance at the front door, Lexi grabbed the pad and began reading a random paragraph.
Imagine the look of shock and dismay on this reporter’s face when I discovered the lives and limbs of myself and my cantankerous cohorts had been risked for naught. The cryptic clues we were following on our quest to uncover Cleopatra’s stolen jewels were actually the far-fetched fantasies of some overpaid crime-drama writers. Color me crimson with embarrassment, not to mention black and blue.
“Still trespassing I see.”
Lexi flinched. She turned to see Kim Ling posed at the top of the stoop in a paint-splattered tank, holding a steaming mug.
“Not exactly the killer story I was hoping for but … keep reading.” Kim Ling took a careful sip of her drink. “Out loud.”
“‘So I guess’”—Lexi cleared her throat, surprised that Kim Ling hadn’t jumped down it—“‘I guess it all comes down to the basics,’” she read aloud, flipping the page. “‘Check your sources. Do your research. Case in point: if your mother tells you she loves you, find proof.’”
“I might hate that line.”
“‘If Rabbi Martin swears that the smoked whitefish at Katz’s Deli is fresh, second-guess him. If the crazy catman in Apartment one-R insists he’s not pirating illegal DVDs, even as he’s being arrested—’” Lexi gasped and turned to Kim Ling. “What? Mr. Carney?”
“Yeah, last night when the cops showed up.”
“The cops came?”
“Didn’t you hear the sirens?”
“When don’t I hear sirens?”
“I thought they showed up ‘cause of the burglar alarm fiasco, but no, they came to arrest Carney. Turns out he had this whole bootleg operation going on. You should
’ve seen the setup in his apartment. Un-freakin’-believable. I’ll bet that’s why that black Lincoln was always parked out front. FBI.”
Lexi took a moment to digest the information. “Wow. Huh. That’s totally insane.”
“Tell me about it.”
She turned back to read the essay, but a bell went off in her head. “So wait. You mean a real crime was happening under our own roof while we were out on that wild goose chase?”
“Ironic, isn’t it? I should probably take that out of my essay. I don’t want to appear—what’s the word?”
“Obtuse? Oblivious? Inept?”
“I taught you well, grasshopper.” Kim Ling’s near smile disappeared behind her mug and she took another noisy sip, studying Lexi. “Some investigative reporter I am—that’s what you’re thinking, right, Lexicon?”
“No, I wasn’t gonna—”
“Some journalist I’ll make. You can say it.”
“Well—you have to admit—” Lexi snorted, harnessing a laugh. “I mean, come on, it is pretty funny. Doesn’t he live right across the hall from you?” And then she let her laughter fly.
The glint in Kim Ling’s eyes disappeared instantly, as if someone had blown out the candle in a jack-o’-lantern. “Yeah? Well, I really don’t care what you think.” She flip-flopped down the stairs, ripped the legal pad out of Lexi’s hand, and started up again. “Stop being so condescending, okay?”
“Um, okay—and ouch. You just gave me, like, seventeen paper cuts.”
“Too bad, so sad.”
“I was obviously kidding,” Lexi said, twisting to her feet. “Listen, I’m sorry about the whole Melrose thing—for giving her that key, if that’s what you’re really getting all cranky about. But I was worried about her safety, okay? You should’ve seen her on Friday after the cops raided Grand Central. She had nowhere to go.” Lexi waited for a reaction. “Kim? C’mon, I thought we were making up.”
“Wrong.” Kim Ling turned abruptly, spilling hot liquid on her hand. “Ow! Just because we had a polite exchange doesn’t mean everything’s copacetic. You lied to my face, remember? I still despise you with the white-hot intensity of a thousand suns!”