The Case of the Missing Mascot (A Sherlock Shakespeare Mystery Book 1)

by Sydney Katt

  "Why won't you just answer my question, William Watson Shakespeare?"

  His voice bounced off the kitchen table. "Because I don't know. Because you're insane. Because I'm a high school freshman and don't know anything about UT's law school admissions policies. Pick whichever answer will make this stop."

  Jamie opened her mouth to respond, but I cut her off before she could ruin Watson's evening any more than she already had. "Hey, Jamie. Let's go up to my room."

  "Finally. Your brother is useless."

  Watson's forehead hit the table. "That's what I tried to tell you when you got here," he grumbled in a muffled voice.

  Once we were in my room, I closed the door behind us and asked, "Why are you grilling Wats about law school?"

  "Because I'm completely freaking out, Sherlock!"

  "Whoa." I held my hands out in front of me in surrender... and maybe to cover that she scared me enough that I'd backed up against the door. "I'm going to need a little more to catch up than that."

  She sank down onto my bed and hugged one of my pillows to her chest. No, hugged wasn't really accurate. It was more like she was violently clutching my pillow as though it could escape at any minute.

  Was escape an option for me? No? Damn.

  "I've known since I was eight that I was already too behind academically to get into an Ivy League school. Now I don't think UT is going to be an option either."

  I moved closer, but not too close, and sat on my desk, momentarily wondering if this would be the time that it would give out under my weight. "Did we take different tours or something? Everything I heard sounded like you were a shoe-in."

  If my pillow could've screamed in pain, it would've. "I guess. Maybe. But undergrad is just the first step. I have to start thinking about getting accepted into their law school now. Not in three years. Not next month. Now."

  "Why is it something to worry about ever? Your grades will be just as awesome in college as they are now. If you can get into UT, I'm sure you can get into their law school as well."

  She threw what had once been a fluffy, happy pillow at me and shouted, "You don't understand anything!" Then she started pacing around the room fast enough to give anyone motion sickness. Except me. I didn't throw up unless my life depended on it. Even then, maybe not. "You don't just need good grades to get into UT Law. They have their pick of the best from colleges around the country. Just being on campus and getting straight-As isn't enough anymore."

  I was now all but hiding behind my lifeless pillow. "I don't understand." Did my voice just go up an octave? "I thought everything was fine. You were happy on the drive home." I straightened and relaxed my grip on the shield pillow a little. "You sang Let It Whip when it came on the radio."

  And Jamie never sang along to the radio unless she was elated or high... and Jamie had probably never been high in her life.

  "I did not."

  "You did so. You were shoulder dancing."

  She stopped pacing. "Fine, but I hadn't thought about it all yet."

  "All what?"

  "When I was walking around campus Friday night after you abandoned me, I ran into some law students in the library and—"

  "You went to the library of a school you don't even go to on a Friday night?"

  "Of course. Where else would I find law students?" The pacing resumed. "Anyway. They filled me in on how competitive admission is. Turns out, a large portion of the students they admit graduated first in their class in high school and then killed it in college."

  Killed what? Their social lives? "But you're already at the top of our class. I don't see how any of this is a problem."

  For perhaps the first time in all the years I'd known Jamie, she stammered and sputtered unintelligibly in lieu of a response. "The point is that I might not get into the law school even if the university accepts me."

  "When. You're a shoe-in." Against my better judgment, I set the pillow aside and hopped off my desk so I could approach her. If I didn't talk her down, she'd wear right though my carpet with her pacing. "How do you even know they were telling the truth? They could've just been screwing with you."

  She half-heartedly shook off the comforting hand I put on her shoulder. "You don't understand. No one does. The lengths I've gone to. The things I've done. It can't all just be for nothing."

  "What can't be for nothing?" As a solid non-overachiever, I had no idea what it looked like when they flamed out and headed to Nervous Breakdownville, but I was concerned that this was it for Jamie. "You're not making sense."

  "It doesn't matter." It momentarily looked as though a tear might escape her eye, but she must've kept it at bay though sheer force of will. "Did you schedule your meeting with your counselor yet? You're supposed to do that after a college visit to assess and strategize."

  I was pretty sure no one did that except for Jamie. "No. I've been a little busy."

  "You mean distracted. Just delete Tom from your life and focus."

  "It's not really that simple. I think we're still sort of working things out."

  "You shouldn't. Dump him now. Boyfriends are a pointless distraction in college."

  That was similar to what she'd told me when I first started dating Tom, except then boyfriends had been distractions in high school. And she'd added that I should keep a condom with me because teenage boys were irresponsible. Sadly, she'd been right.

  I loved our girl talk.

  Jamie was still talking. And pacing. Again. "Besides, Tom's in Austin. You're here. You had no excuse not to see your counselor after school yesterday. You didn't work and you know they stay late on Mondays."

  Um, no one knew the schedule of the guidance counselors except Jamie. "I've had a lot going on between Tom and looking for Champers."

  "Not you too." She started waving her hands around like a defeated lunatic. "I can't talk to you if you're going to talk to me about a missing pig while my entire future is in jeopardy."

  I tried to respond, but she was out the door and down the stairs before I could tell her that I didn't actually care about the mascot, just the distraction he provided from Tom. It was just as well. Jamie had never been very good at the touchy-feely listening to other people's problems part of friendship. That was why I had Drew.

  Besides, it wasn't like her freaking out over random school things was anything new. She'd never been quite this crazed over anything before, but I did remember her locking herself in her room every day after school for a month and crying when she'd first realized she wouldn't get to go to an Ivy League. Which college you'll attend in ten years is really crucial stuff when you're eight.

  The typewriter sound erupted from my phone while I was in the process of trying to refluff my pillow so that I wouldn't have to sleep on a stone tonight. Tom. I almost didn't read it, but thought better of it. I hadn't realized that I wanted to try working stuff out with him until I'd said the words to Jamie before her hurried departure. I mean, he was a crappy boyfriend, but he was still the only one I'd ever had.

  I had to read the text a few times before I was convinced it actually came from Tom.

  I love you too much to throw away the last two years over a misunderstanding. Please talk to me.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  I was still sitting on the edge of my bed staring at the phone in my hands when my door flew open so hard that it hit the doorstop with a loud thwack. I glanced up and found Watson standing there. He didn't look happy.

  "You have got to give me some notice before Psycho comes over so that I can barricade myself in my room. Leaving me alone with her all night isn't cool."

  "I didn't know Jamie was coming over until she called me."

  "Well, she's a nightmare. I don't know why you're even friends with her."

  Sometimes, I wondered the same thing myself. Of course, unlike Watson, I didn't have dozens of other friends to call when I wanted to do something. We were basically polar opposites and, at times, I wondered if we were actually related. I was too young at the time to rem
ember him being born, but it wouldn't surprise me at all if my parents admitted the stork had dropped him off on our front porch.

  "Look, I'm sorry, Wats, but I can't control what Jamie does or whether she calls before coming over. She's just seriously stressed about college right now, I guess. Just let it go."

  He huffed and puffed for a minute before striking back with, "And stop snooping through my social media accounts. I don't like it."

  "I don't know what you're talking about."

  "You're a bad liar. You left my account open to the page of one of my friends at another school."

  Busted. "Oh. Sorry."

  "That's all you're going to say?"

  After yet again coming up empty on my search for Champers, dealing with Jamie's over-the-top temper tantrum and Tom's Jekyll and Hyde routine, I was starting to get fed up. "What do you want me to say? I snooped. You caught me. I apologized. Get over it."

  "What do I want? I want to know why you're spying on me."

  "Spying on you?" I let out the mother of all dramatic sighs. "Hardly. I needed to know where the guys at that school were going to be Sunday night, so I used your profile to find out."

  Watson stood in the doorway glaring at me in some kind of stunned silence for several long moments. I guess that wasn't the answer he'd been expecting. "Why did you need to know where they'd be?"

  "So I could follow them, obviously."

  He took off his glasses—unlike me, he couldn't function without his glasses because he could only see three inches in front of his face—and pinched the bridge of his nose before replacing them. "Sherlock, you've always been a little odd, but why are you following around guys from our rival school?"

  I started to answer, but what I was going to say made me feel so stupid that I dropped my head so that I wouldn't have to look into his eyes when I said the words. "I thought they might've been the ones to steal Champers."

  More stunned silence. "Were they?"

  "Nope. But it's okay. I have another lead I'm following up on."

  Watson crossed the room and sat beside me on the edge of the bed. "Spying on suspects, following up on leads... what's up with you?"

  I turned the phone over in my hands several times before I looked up at him. "Tom."

  He nodded with some hesitation. Watson had never exactly been Tom's biggest fan. "I heard about that. Are you two even still together?"

  I wasn't sure how to answer that question, so I told him as much. "I don't know. He calls me an irrational bitch in one text and then tells me he loves me in the next."

  "You are pretty irrational, but your boyfriend probably shouldn't call you a bitch if he loves you." From the glint of hate in his eyes, I could tell he wanted to say more, but knew better than to trash Tom to me while we were possibly still together. Instead, he patted me on the shoulder. "Relationships are hard. This reminds me a lot of when Dorothy's ex called her to get back together after he left his wife. It was a tough situation, but Dorothy finally made the right decision. You'll figure it out."

  Seriously? I'm on the verge of breaking up with my boyfriend of two years and Watson was talking to me about an episode of The Golden Girls that wasn't even anything like what I was going through? Par for the course.

  "I get that you're trying to help and everything, but I really don't think TV wisdom is going to help right now."

  "Are you kidding? Those four ladies have the answer to any situation when you put them together."

  He jumped up and started singing the theme song at me. How was it that my dorky little brother who spent all his school vacations at Nana's house watching The Golden Girls reruns was infinitely more popular than I was? I should post this little performance on social media to show to all his friends.

  Or not. It would probably just make Watson seem even more awesome to the world.

  "The biggest gift would be from me and the card attached would say..." Watson stopped singing in the middle of the line and did this ridiculously cheesy pose where he pointed both his fingers at me as though he were waiting on me to finish the line for him. Sure, I knew it. Anyone who spent any real time with my brother would be forced to learn the theme song at some point, but I couldn't bring myself to give in to his obvious attempt at cheering me up. "Get the hell out of my room."

  He straightened abruptly. "Sure thing. Good talk."

  My door closed with just as much force as it had opened, leaving me alone again. Alone with my phone. Alone with my thoughts.

  Alone with that damn text from Tom.

  I should call him. I navigated to the screen for his contact, but couldn't bring myself to connect the call. What could I really say to him at this point? Until I knew whether I wanted to stay in this relationship or not, it didn't make sense to talk to him. All that would accomplish was letting him manipulate me into feeling a certain way or fighting with him again. I didn't want either. I didn't need to hear his voice until I knew my own mind.

  Easier said than done, really. Watson and Jamie had made good points, in their own ways. Tom had never been a contender for Boyfriend of the Year based on his treatment of me. He'd always been a distraction from my schoolwork. If I needed to study for a test and he wanted to go to a party, we'd always gone to the party. Anything I wanted or needed came in a distant second to his whims.

  Sure, there'd been some good times. When Tom wanted to turn on the charm, he could make even me feel like the most beautiful and special girl in the school. I'd probably even had some fun at the parties and sporting events he'd made me go to. Of course, it wasn't like he was around anymore. With the distance factored in, those good times would be fewer and further between than they used to be.

  But I couldn't just leave him hanging after that text either. He'd be able to see that I'd read the message. I had to respond, whether I wanted to or not.

  I sat in my room trying to compose an appropriate response until my stomach started grumbling so loudly that I could no longer ignore the fact that I hadn't eaten since lunch. I typed out a hasty message to let him know that I'd meet him before the football game and we could talk then. That would buy me nearly seventy-two hours to figure out whether what we had was worth fighting for.

  And without any more interruptions from Tom, that would give me seventy-two hours to figure out where Irene had stashed Champers before his absence ruined the Homecoming halftime performance.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Wednesday was a slightly less chaotic day as everyone began coming to grips with the loss of Champers. Students were still noticeably upset, but the teachers were a little more professional than they'd been the day before. Actual teaching happened, which was probably a good thing since there were tests on the schedule for next week in most of my classes.

  No more Jamie freak-outs either. Actually, I hadn't seen her all day. When she failed to show up for the class we had together, I tried to call her, but had to leave a message. After the frenzy she'd worked herself up into last night, it wouldn't surprise me if she'd made herself sick over this whole law school thing.

  It was a little weird walking by the ruins of the convenience store before and after school. The fire was out, but the smell of burnt wood and sour milk still clung faintly to the air. There was something else, too, but I couldn't quite place it. Maybe one of the stoners had left their stash to go up in the blaze.

  I'd made good time on the walk from the school to Main Street, so I decided to stop into the cafe for a juice pick-me-up before I started work at the bookstore. I unlocked the bookstore so that I could dump my stuff off behind the counter and then walked half a block down to the cafe. Irene, as usual, was friendly to me as she took my order, but she kept glancing off behind me and muttering to herself about something I couldn't quite make out. That was strange even for her. Maybe the stress of keeping the mascot hostage was starting to get to her.

  Before she could start my juice, a timer went off in the kitchen and she disappeared from sight through the opening. It was still early, so there wa
s only one table of high schoolers and they weren't paying any attention to me. Since I was basically invisible at this point, it was the perfect time to snoop.

  When the renovations were nearly complete on the cafe, Irene had showed me and Drew around. Other than the main dining area and the restrooms, there were two other areas: the kitchen she'd just disappeared into and storage area with a small office. While there was clearly no room in the kitchen to keep a teacup pig, or information on its whereabouts, the storage area held a lot of promise. And since the entrance was off the same hallway that led to the restrooms, she wouldn't think anything of it when I came around the corner to the counter to pick up my juice.

  I acted like I was heading to the restroom and dodged quickly into the storeroom, just in case anyone at the one full table glanced my way. I didn't have long before I had to be at work, and had even less time before Irene might notice my absence, so I'd have to make this quick. No time for time-warp black holes today.

  At first glance, that wouldn't be a problem. Champers clearly wasn't in here. Well, I guess he could be here if he'd figured out how to make a nifty box fort for himself, but that didn't seem likely. The combination of being tiny and not having opposable thumbs didn't bode well for redecoration.

  I made a quick search of the boxes. It was mainly a bunch of non-perishable bulk baking ingredients that wouldn't fit into the kitchen's storage area. A few of the boxes had extra receipt paper for the cash register and an entire corner was devoted to to-go containers.

  Basically, it was just what you'd expect to find in a cafe's storeroom.

  The office was a different story. Its appearance was every bit as chaotic as Irene's mind seemed to be. Little piles of crystals were in each corner of the room and the faint smell of white sage and something sweet clung to the air. That might be the best theft deterrent out there. If I didn't absolutely need to be in this room, the smell would've been all it took to keep me out.