“Here ya go, kid.” Granny Goose handed me a baking dish filled with something so heavy and green and mossy-looking I thought for sure it was Astroturf. “It’s a caramelized broccoli bake,” she said. “My second choice for the cook-off contest. I’d like you to rate it against the cucumbers.”
Chapter 14
Not So Clueless Anymore
I stared in horror at Granny Goose’s newest green concoction.
Why me? How come she kept picking me to be her taste tester? Did I look like some kind of vegetable guru or something?
“Smells good, huh? Here. I’ll cut you a nibble.” She leaned over my shoulder with a bread-and-butter knife, chewing her lip and grunting as she struggled to slice the broccoli bake. She sawed away, and when she finally managed to cut a piece, she dropped it on my plate. It landed with a thud.
“It might’ve settled a little in the fridge, but that shouldn’t affect the flavor.”
I stabbed it with my fork, pretending to look interested, but wishing with all my might Gus would take it off my hands. He’d already popped a couple of sardines in his mouth like they were M&M’s, and he’d been raving about the goat cheese, so why not the broccoli bake?
Gus gaped from across the table, but it wasn’t the food on my plate that seemed to interest him. He was watching Pickles. She’d just climbed a miniature footstool Granny Goose had pushed up to the table. She settled herself between Margaret and me and pecked at a spoon.
“Hold your horses,” Granny Goose said to Pickles. “I’ll get to your plate in a second.”
“Uh, Mrs. Unger, does Pickles always eat with you?” Gus said.
“You betcha. Never misses a meal. She’s a vegetable lover.”
My ears perked up. Pickles a vegetable lover? Hmm. Very interesting.
I casually placed my elbows on the table and asked Granny Goose if she had any salt. As soon as she turned her back to look for it, I nudged my plate to the left, close enough for Pickles to get a whiff.
Oh, happiness.
In ten seconds flat my broccoli bake was pecked into dust.
Margaret, Gus, and I doubled over laughing. Granny Goose yelled, “Bad goose!” but Pickles didn’t ruffle a feather. She just sat there looking totally pleased with herself, like she was waiting on round two.
Granny Goose was all set to cut me another piece when I pushed my chair from the table and hopped up. “Uh-oh. It’s after three. Golly, Mrs. Unger, I’m really sorry, but we don’t have time to finish the snacks. I have to be home by three-thirty to help my mom.”
Gus’s fork stopped halfway to his mouth. He looked at the kitchen clock, and his eyes lit up with alarm. It was like he’d finally remembered our time crunch and that we were on an information quest, not a picnic. “Three-ten? Already? Yeah, we’d better get going. We’ve got lots to do.”
Granny Goose wouldn’t hear of our helping clean her messy kitchen. “I’ve enjoyed every minute of this visit,” she said. “I hope you’ll come back real soon.”
So after Margaret paid her smoochy good-byes to Doris the duck and Pickles, we headed out the front door. We were standing on the sidewalk, waving our final farewell to Granny Goose, when Gus muttered out the side of his mouth, “Only two visitors this morning, so that concludes our suspect list.”
“I can’t believe it,” Margaret said after the front door closed. “We’ve actually got this narrowed—”
“There’s an egg in the turtle pen,” I blurted out.
“Oh…my…gosh,” Margaret said. “You mean Hogjaw laid an egg? I thought he was a boy.”
“Not that kind of egg. I mean, one of the jeweled eggs.”
“What?” Gus’s eyes popped way open, and he stumbled backward, like he’d just seen Granny Goose’s alligator slide over the fence. “Are you serious? You actually found a Pitaya in Hogjaw’s pen? How come you left it there?”
“I didn’t exactly leave it. It’s wedged under a log. I couldn’t reach it.”
“We can’t let the cops find it,” Margaret said. “They’ll arrest her for sure.”
“That must’ve been the thief’s plan all along,” Gus said. “He was hoping someone would turn the locket in, and then, when the cops came here to search Granny Goose’s, they’d find the egg.”
“We have to go back for it,” Margaret said.
Gus spun around. “Come on. You two keep Granny Goose busy inside, and I’ll get the Pitaya.”
“Wait a minute,” I said. “Why would François or Leonard—whichever one did it—dump that egg? Didn’t you say it was way more valuable than the locket? Why wouldn’t he want to sell it?”
“That one little egg doesn’t matter to the perp. He’s got five more, plus all the other loot. The important thing to him is to make Granny Goose the patsy,” Gus said.
We were still hashing things out when Granny Goose came back outside. She locked her front door before hurrying to the truck in her driveway. “See ya later, kids,” she said, waving to us. “I’m off to the festival again. Just got an emergency call from one of the Tarts. Seems they’re light on help.”
She backed into the street, then stuck her head out the window. “If you need to be home by three-thirty, you’d better get a move on it, honey,” she said to me. “My dashboard clock says three-seventeen.”
She took off, and once her truck disappeared around the corner, Gus said, “Perfect. Let’s go for it.”
We raced to the backyard fence. Margaret pulled the gate handle, but it wouldn’t open. Gus and I each yanked on it, too. “Darn,” I said. “She must’ve locked it from the inside before she left.”
We messed around for a couple more minutes, trying to hoist Gus, then me, then Margaret over the privacy fence, but it was way too high. And since there didn’t happen to be a ten-foot extension ladder lying around anywhere, there wasn’t much left to do but give up.
“We’ll have to come back later,” Gus said, “when she’s home.”
Margaret shook her head with disappointment as we crossed the lawn. “I hate to leave; it feels like we’re letting Granny Goose down. What if Mrs. Grimstone sends the police over here before we get to the egg?”
“The cops can’t go tromping around her backyard on a hunch. They still need probable cause. Right?” I asked Gus.
“Right, but it would’ve been better to take care of the egg now, to be on the safe side. Besides, there might be even more evidence in the pen.”
“Wait,” I said, remembering the Ford medallion. I pulled it from my pocket. “This could be evidence. I found it under the aloe plant, right next to the turtle’s log.”
Gus blinked at least five times. “Holy tamale! Let me see that a minute.” He took the medallion, examining it from every angle, and a grin slid across his face. “This,” he said, waving it under Margaret’s and my noses, “is going to be the downfall of our perp.”
Chapter 15
Partner Problems
We all agreed on one thing: The medallion belonged to the thief.
Gus said the odds were high. “At least eighty-five percent. Because Granny Goose drives a Honda, and she doesn’t let anyone else in the animal pens.”
“Leonard and François were both on her deck this morning,” I said. “All we have to do is find out who owns a Ford.”
“I know François drives a red convertible,” Margaret said. “I’ve seen him in it. But I don’t know the make.”
“What about Leonard? We saw him in that truck earlier. Was it a Ford?” I said.
Gus shrugged. “I didn’t notice. We’ll have to track both of them down.”
“Hey, I know what. Let’s go by François’ café. Maybe his car is parked there,” Margaret said.
Gus and her got all excited over that idea, and I would’ve gotten excited, too, if I hadn’t lived in the opposite direction from Simply Paris. And according to Margaret’s watch, it was three-twenty. When my mom says to be home at three-thirty, she doesn’t mean three thirty-two. Plus she’d been planning this fe
stival schedule for months, down to the minute. If I messed her up now, I wouldn’t get out of the house for the rest of the week.
“I can’t. I’ve got to dice cucumbers. I’ve only got ten minutes to get home.”
I was waiting for Margaret to say, “I’ll help you; then we’ll meet back up with Gus when we’re done.”
But she didn’t. Instead, she started planning things out with him, about where they would go and when. No mention of Lindy. I swallowed hard, disappointment stuck in my throat like catfish bones. A wave of jealousy flooded my chest, because what if they figured things out without me?
We started down the sidewalk, and as Gus mapped out their plans, I ground my teeth in frustration. It’d been me, not him, who’d found the locket and the Pitaya egg and the key ring. But the way he was acting, you would’ve thought he was the one who’d discovered everything.
And another thing. Margaret was supposed to be my best friend. At least that’s the way it’d been for the last six years. So why was she acting like Gus’s best friend? Why hadn’t she offered to help me with my festival chores, like I always helped her with stuff?
I was stewing over this when a car turned into the driveway we were approaching, just two houses down from Granny Goose’s. Cricket from Shear Magic jumped out. She looked at us curiously, then gave a quick hello flick with her finger.
“Listen,” Margaret whispered to me, because we were within earshot of Cricket. “Gus and I’ll check Simply Paris for François’ car, then come back here and see if Granny Goose is home. I’ll call you later and tell you everything. And hurry! I know how your mom is. I don’t want you to get in trouble for being late.”
I made it home with one minute to spare, still steaming at Margaret and Gus. I knew it wasn’t fair for me to be mad. After all, we’d made a pact to help Granny Goose and earn that reward, so they were doing the right thing by working without me. And I really, really wanted the money. Why then, I wondered, did I keep feeling like I’d lost my best friend?
Things weren’t any better at the Phillips residence. Besides having to peel and chop two hundred cucumbers, good old Lindy got stuck with Henry for the whole night. That’s because Dad got called into the fire station, and Mom had scheduled herself to work the senior square dance at the festival.
“I won’t be home until nine,” she told me. “I’d take Henry with me, but he’s been complaining of a tummy ache.”
“It’s because of those stupid stewed cucumbers,” he grumbled from under the kitchen table. “They made me get diarrhea so bad I almost died.”
I leaned over and looked at him. His cheeks were pudgy and pink as ever, his brown eyes twinkled, and he was surrounded by Matchbox cars and Spider-Man action figures. He sure didn’t look sick to me.
But none of that mattered, because Mom was in too big of a hurry to listen to any arguments. “You can take Henry to the Quick Mart for a SevenUP later,” she said. “That always helps his tummy. Otherwise, I want him to stay in. Make sure he gets to bed by eight.”
So there you go. One whole evening of peeling and chopping and playing board games with Henry. After the third round of Boggle Junior, I called Margaret.
No answer, just like the last ten times I called. I tried Gus’s house. He wasn’t home either.
It was six o’clock, and I still hadn’t heard a thing. After the fifth round of old maid with Henry, I was so antsy I wanted to chew the cards up and spit them out the window. I paced the living room, and then a plan came to me. An excellent plan.
Ha! I didn’t need Margaret or Gus. I’d do some investigative work on my own. Since they had supposedly checked François’ make of car, I’d take care of Leonard. I grabbed the phone book. “Snout, Leonard: 1212 South Rural Route 3.”
I couldn’t use our phone, because Leonard might have caller ID. My mom claimed everyone had caller ID. “It’s the best thing the phone company’s ever come out with,” she’d told my dad.
“Hey,” I said to Henry, “you want to go to Quick Mart for a SevenUP now?”
That was like asking Bugs Bunny if he wanted a carrot. While Henry dashed upstairs for his shoes, I memorized Leonard’s phone number.
Chapter 16
Getting Nowhere Fast
Five minutes later I was at the pay phone outside Quick Mart, watching Henry through the window. “You can get a SevenUP and some gum and one more treat,” I’d said, hoping to keep him in there for a while, “but do…not…disappear from my sight.”
I dropped my coins into the slot. This isn’t a prank call, I told myself. It’s more like a business call. But my hands shook so hard I could hardly punch the numbers.
Leonard picked up on the third ring. “Hello?”
“Yes. Uh, hello, sir.” I held a sock I’d brought with me over the mouthpiece, so he wouldn’t recognize my voice. “This is Monica Wilson. Our company is conducting a survey about vehicular models, and I’d like to know—”
“You’re doing a what?”
“A survey, sir. About vehicular models that people drive.”
“What the heck you trying to sell me?” Leonard grumbled.
“Actually, sir, I’m not selling anything.” I chuckled, trying to act all buddy, buddy with him. “Everyone thinks that. What we’re doing is conducting a national survey. We’d like to know what kind of vehicle you drive.”
“Tell me again what you’re after,” Leonard said. “You’re sounding fuzzy on my end.”
“Certainly. Our—”
A car honked, practically blasting my ear off.
“What?” Leonard said.
Uh-oh. Henry was headed my way, his arms full. I had to get off this phone. What if he saw me, and, like he always did, shouted, “Who are you talking to, Lindy?” Leonard might hear him.
“What…kind…of…ve-hic-le…do…you…drive?” I yelled into the receiver. Just hurry up and answer me already, I wanted to say.
“Ford,” Leonard said. “I’ve had it ten years. Wouldn’t buy anything else.”
“Thank you.” I hung up the phone in time to see Henry spill his fountain drink all over the floor.
The telephone message light was blinking when Henry and I finally made it home.
“Where are you, Lindy?” Margaret’s voice said. “Call me right away! I’ve got N-E-W-S.”
“News about what?” Henry said. He stuffed another Gummi Bear in his mouth. This from the boy with the killer stomachache.
I shooed him upstairs. “Get the Monopoly game out,” I said, “and we’ll play before bedtime.”
When I called Margaret back, she was talking so fast and loud I had to hold the phone away from my ear. “Guess! What? Ohmigosh, you’ll never guess what, Lindy! François drives a Mustang. A Ford Mustang. And Gus says the more he thought about it, the more he thought Leonard drives a Chevy, so now we almost know for sure who the thief is.”
“No, you don’t,” I said, “because Gus is wrong. Leonard does drive a Ford.” I went on to tell her about my discovery, and I was feeling all proud and pleased with myself until I realized that since they both drove Fords, we weren’t any closer to guessing the thief than we’d been six hours ago.
Another bad thing was that Margaret and Gus hadn’t been able to get the egg. “My parents saw us and made me take Sarah and Carrie”—that’s Margaret’s little twin sisters—“on the midway rides, so Gus went to Granny Goose’s by himself. But she still wasn’t home. She was playing fiddle for the senior square dance on the courthouse lawn. I saw her.”
This meant we hadn’t accomplished anything the whole day, unless you want to count learning how to put a diaper on a goose as progress. I hadn’t felt this blue in a long time. Not only was Granny Goose in danger of being caught with the egg, but we were no closer to winning that reward.
And then, with one final tidbit of information, Margaret turned my blue mood into a deep gray funk. “Mr. Austin called my mom. He wants Gus and me to play a trio with Angel in the festival finale Saturday afternoon. It’s
the same song that you, me, and Gus played at the spring concert.”
“But what about me?” I said. My voice sounded small and whiny, just like Henry’s after he’d spilled his 7UP. “Does Mr. Austin want me to play, too?”
“Well, this is what really makes me mad. He said it’s supposed to be just Gus, me, and Angel, all because she wants to play that same solo part you had. Since she’s the Festival Princess, he wants to highlight her on the flute. I didn’t want to do it, but my mom told him yes. And we have to rehearse at ten in the morning, too. So we won’t be free until eleven.”
I could barely force the words “Okay, yeah, well, see you tomorrow” out of my mouth before hanging up. I sat there for a full minute, staring at the wall, not wanting to believe what I’d just heard: Margaret and Gus were going to play “Melody from the South Seas,” my favorite song in the world, with Angel Grimstone. Without me. And the Princess would be playing my solo part, the very same solo I could play with my eyes closed.
“Hurry up, Lindy,” Henry yelled from upstairs. “We’ve only got an hour to play Monopoly before bedtime.”
I trudged up the stairs to join him, feeling numb. For the first time ever, I didn’t even yell, “Dibs on being the banker.”
Chapter 17
Conspiracy Theory
The next morning I got up early, before Henry. I decided to make a list of what we needed to do to get Granny Goose off the hook and find the thief. I’d been at it for a half hour, but so far the only thing I’d come up with was: “Get jeweled egg out of Hogjaw’s pen.” I still didn’t know how to accomplish this. Granny Goose would probably be at the festival most of the day, and even if I stopped by for a “casual” visit at seven o’clock in the morning, it’s not like I could poke around Hogjaw’s pen right in front of her.
A Recipe for Robbery Page 6