And then he disappeared, pulling the door after him.
Now it was my turn. I reached for the knob, my hand so slick with sweat I could barely turn it. Luckily, it opened. I flipped the overhead light on and slipped into the room, closing the door after me. Where to begin?
The first thing I checked was a large wooden desk in the corner. It was crammed with framed photographs of François, loose papers, recipe books, and garden catalogs. A cutlery magazine was opened to page 16, where the headline read, NO MATTER HOW YOU SLICE IT, THE KNIFE MAKES THE DIFFERENCE.
A digital clock on François’ desk said 8:35. Ten minutes until the meeting ended. I wasn’t having any luck on top of the desk; maybe I should look under it. I leaned down, checked all around the floor. Nothing. Just an empty trash can. I started to pull myself up, then…
Rrrrrring…rrrrrring…rrrrrring.
The phone! Suppose François ran in here to answer it? Panicking, I scrambled under the desk. I scooted as far back as possible and huddled against the trash can.
The phone rang five times, until François’ answering machine picked up. “Bonjour. You have contacted the office of Chef François Pouppière, proprietor of Simply Paris, European dining at its best. Deliver a message, s’il vous plaît, and I shall return it as quickly as possible. Merci beaucoup.”
“Yeah, uh…hello,” said the caller. “Snout here.”
Leonard! I almost spit up in the trash can, his voice scared me so bad.
“I’ll be over today at four with everything,” he said, “after you close shop. Got the rest of those Pitayas—that ruby variety you liked.” He chuckled, sending shivers up my spine. “So, errr…guess we’ll go over everything you’ve got before your trip, eh? Oh, one last thing. My labor’s gonna run higher than the original estimate.”
You could’ve knocked me over with a puff of air. Leonard and François, today at four, and Leonard was bringing the Pitayas. The locket, too, I bet. And I’d been lucky enough to hear all about it.
Wait till I told Gus and Margaret. They’d flip.
I crawled out from under the desk, all set to run to the pantry after Gus. But when I stood up, I noticed a door in the far corner.
Could more of the heirlooms be in there? François was hiding some of them, I’d just heard so. “Guess we’ll go over everything you’ve got,” Leonard had said.
I checked the clock again. Six minutes, plenty of time. I sped across the floor and opened the door, into a closet. Against the back wall sat some kind of bundle, covered with a blanket. I dropped to my knees, lifted the blanket, and pulled out a small suitcase.
I fumbled with the clasps. Locked. I shook it. Whatever was in there rattled and slid around like…jewelry!
I’d found the heirlooms.
I leaped up from the floor, ready to shout, “Hallelujah!” I reached for the suitcase. Should I take it? No, bad idea. Because it wasn’t holding all the heirlooms; Leonard still had the Pitayas and the locket. If I took the suitcase and François checked the closet later, he’d tip Leonard off. We might not recover everything.
We’d have to wait until four o’clock when they met, when they had everything laid out. I pushed the suitcase into the closet, threw the blanket over it, then flew across the room. I turned off the light and slipped back into the hallway, trembling with excitement.
I’d just started after Gus when footsteps clicked across the kitchen floor. Snappy, no-nonsense clicks, and they were getting louder.
Chapter 28
Impostor!
I stood against the hallway wall, frozen with fright. I couldn’t yell for Gus. I’d be heard. There wasn’t time to run to the pantry after him; it was too close to the kitchen. So I coughed. Three huge hacking barks that left my throat raw.
“Goodness. That’s quite a cough, dear. Allergies?”
I spun around. A woman—the same one who’d been with François in the dining room—stood a millimeter away from the pantry door. She looked at me curiously. Could she hear my heart, thumping its way up my throat?
“Er…I’m fine, thanks.” I sputtered one last, pathetic cough into my fist. What was Gus doing? I hoped he’d heard my warning, and that he’d stay hidden.
“My goodness,” she said, “I certainly didn’t expect to find our Princess in the bowels of the restaurant.”
Princess? Oh, no. She thought I was Angel.
“I’m Greta, François’ fiancée.” She grasped my hand firmly, pumping my arm like it was a barbell. “I run the dining room, so you’ll be reporting to me. Now. First things first. Let’s take care of that cough.” She took my arm, and I obediently pattered beside her to the kitchen, every nerve in my body on fire.
Greta poured a tall glass of water and handed it to me. I took a swig, then another and another, frantically thinking of something to say.
“Th-thank you.”
“Are you certain you’ll be able to greet properly? François will have a fit if you cough on any of our diners.” She had her back to me and was flipping through the rack of aprons and hats.
“This should do nicely.” She pulled a miniature chef’s hat from the rack and tugged it onto my head. “Although we definitely need to do something with those bangs.”
She tucked my loose hair under the hat, then stepped back and studied me, frowning. “No,” she said, crinkling her nose. “The shorts and flip-flops are not going to work. Actually, I’m a bit taken aback by your attire. François and I expected you to arrive in your princess gown.”
“Sorry. It’s stained.”
“Tsk, tsk, that’s a shame.” She grabbed a long white apron and pulled it over my neck, wrapping its strings around and around my waist, tying them so tight I could barely breathe. “This will have to do. At least it will hide the shorts. Okay, dear, let’s go. The doors open soon. It’s about time for you to charm our customers.”
She took my arm, and I forced three more coughs up from my lungs, signaling to Gus the coast was clear. I hoped he heard me.
I clunked alongside Greta, sweating like my dad after a hard day at the fire station. What would happen when the real Princess showed up? Or even worse, what if François recognized me? He’d peg me as an impostor right away. Did he know I had the planner? Suppose Cricket had told him I’d been in his car?
I looked around, plotting my escape. I’d have to slip back through the kitchen, but I couldn’t go anywhere until Greta left my side.
“I’ll let François know you’re here in a minute,” she said. “First, I want to go over your routine.”
She took hold of my shoulders. “Stand up straight, please. As you well know from your beauty pageant experience, posture is a critical component of poise. Do…not…slouch. I repeat, do not slouch!”
I snapped my shoulders back and stood at attention, straighter than a bamboo rod. No point in getting her irritated with me now. If we got this over with quick, maybe she’d join François on the patio and I could get away before Angel showed up.
“You are the official greeter,” she explained. “The first impression of Simply Paris, so to speak. Do you comprehend that?”
“Uh…yes.”
“Good. Now, we’d like to see your Princess qualities shine through to our diners. Do you know how to curtsy?”
“Uh, well…”
Uh-oh. From the corner of my eye, I’d just spotted trouble, all decked out in a pink gown. She was standing outside the restaurant door with her grandmother. Mrs. Grimstone rapped on the glass.
“Hold on,” Greta said to me. “We’ve got early birds. You know, I’m sometimes astounded at the rudeness of people. The sign clearly states that we open at nine. Can’t they read?”
She clicked across the granite floor, toward the door.
The last thing I saw before running was Gus. He was standing behind Mrs. Grimstone, waving at me.
Once I made it to the kitchen I tore off the apron and the hat and flew out the back door. I shot down the alley, trying to swallow the squeal at the back of
my throat. I slid to a stop where the alley met the sidewalk, then peeked around the corner. Gus was still staring in the window of Simply Paris, looking confused.
I couldn’t go get him, because I couldn’t chance being seen outside the café’s window by Greta. Suppose she pointed me out to Mrs. Grimstone, saying, “This girl is an impostor! Someone call her mother immediately.”
I whistled, and Gus looked up. I whistled again, caught his eye for a split second, then ducked back into the alley.
“Oh, man,” he said, swinging around the corner of the building to join me. “That was a close call.”
“You’re telling me.” I leaned against the brick wall, still shaking. And then I filled him in on what I’d found and overheard in François’ office.
“Holy tamale! That’s awesome! I can’t believe it!” He sputtered on and on, praising me so much I thought I’d burst with pride. “Man,” he said, “this is one hundred percent in the bag now. All we have to do is be here for the four o’clock meeting.”
“Sounds good to me.” I grinned at him, but on the inside I was still shivering. What if Leonard and François caught us? They wouldn’t be exactly thrilled about three kids foiling their plans. I’d already gotten an earful of François’ temper, and Leonard wasn’t what you would call a fluffy little teddy bear.
I started down the alley, anxious to get away from Simply Paris before Greta or François saw me, maybe go for a cold drink and work up more nerve for this four o’clock rendezvous. Gus called me back. “Wait. I almost forgot. I just overheard Mrs. Grimstone tell her husband she wanted to talk to Cricket. She mentioned Granny Goose, and it sounds like something else happened. Maybe you should go in the salon, see if you can get the scoop.”
“Me?” I wasn’t so sure I could pull it off, the way my heart was still pounding.
“Yeah. I’d go, but I figured it’d look funny for a guy to be hanging around a hair salon. Know what I mean?”
I said, “Okay,” and Gus waited in the alley while I hurried past the front window of Simply Paris. Opening the door to Shear Magic, I quickly checked out the salon, looking for Cricket and Mrs. Grimstone. I didn’t see them, so I figured they must be somewhere in the back, behind the row of whirring hair dryers.
The girl behind the counter clipped on her MARCY name tag and looked up at me. “You here for a trim?” she said, staring at my bangs. She rapped her fingers on the appointment book.
“Oh. Hi, Marcy. I, uh, would like to schedule a haircut. How about next week?”
“Yeah, but I only got an opening with Tammi. Chenille, Deb, Paula, and Madison are booked up, and Cricket’s going to be out of town for the next couple of weeks. I’ve got Wednesday at ten.”
“That’ll work fine,” I said over my shoulder as I headed to the far end of the salon. “I’ll be right back. I just need to use your bathroom.” I wound my way around the dryers and comb-out stations, stopping in front of a curtain with a sign that said NEW NAILS NOW! MANICURES/PEDICURES. When I heard Mrs. Grimstone’s voice behind the curtain, I parted it, ever so slightly.
“There should be an arrest very soon,” Mrs. Grimstone said to Cricket. “I just stopped by the police station. An officer was at the Unger woman’s house this morning, and of all things, he found one of my Pitayas in that kook’s turtle pen.”
Chapter 29
Getting to Know Gus
Cricket looked up from the pedicure table where she was arranging nail polish. I have to say, she seemed as surprised as I was. “Oh, my God! Are you sure it’s your egg?”
“Certainly it’s my egg,” Mrs. Grimstone said. “I’ve examined it thoroughly. It’s one of only six Pitayas of its kind, all of them stolen from me on Tuesday. Let me tell you, I’m absolutely over the moon about this recovery. Of course it needs to be cleaned. What a sight. Turtle droppings all over it. I’ll have Howard take it to my jeweler.”
Cricket mumbled as though she were talking to herself. “I can’t believe it. They found it in the crazy woman’s turtle pen?”
I checked over my shoulder to make sure no one was watching before opening the curtain a hair wider.
“Are you not feeling well, Cricket?” Mrs. Grimstone said. “Honestly, you look white as a ghost.”
“Oh, I’m fine. Just completely shocked, you know, to think a thief is living two doors down from me. But yeah, this is fantastic news. Did they find all the heirlooms at the goose lady’s?”
“No, and that’s the problem,” Mrs. Grimstone said. “Evidently—and this is to go no farther than these four walls, as the police don’t want it out yet—she’s denying any involvement. Can you imagine? They caught her red-handed. Now didn’t I insist all along that woman was behind this? That’s exactly what I told Howard. I said, ‘Howard, that goose nut has something to do with this.’”
“Sounds like she’s your thief, all right,” Cricket said. “Where do you suppose the police will go from here?” They better go straight next door to Simply Paris, I wanted to yell, because that’s where the real perp is. Instead, I bit my tongue and opened the curtain wider.
“I haven’t the faintest notion,” Mrs. Grimstone said. She leaned toward a mirror on the wall, picking something off her lip. “I certainly hope she confesses soon. I’m desperate to have those pieces returned.”
I closed the curtain and eased my way toward the front door.
“You won’t believe what’s happened,” I said when I joined Gus in the alley.
After I told him, he shook his head, looking disappointed. “Man, I wish we could’ve gotten back in her yard and hidden that egg. The only thing we can do now is make sure this afternoon’s plan is one hundred percent foolproof.”
We headed back to the festival midway where we lost at a bunch of dart games, ate more kettle corn, and rode the Sizzler three times. We even talked about stuff that didn’t have anything to do with heirlooms or perps or NSCCB, like school and Gus’s funny French relatives. He cracked me up with some of the stories he told.
Then we started talking about concert band and how much fun camp was going to be. “I really want to get picked for the governor’s concert,” he said, “but I doubt if I do. I’m not near as good a musician as you.” I felt my face turn pink. Gosh, if I was good enough for Gus to notice, maybe I did have a chance of playing for the governor.
“Aw, you’ll probably get picked,” I said, trying to build up his confidence a little, but truthfully, I wasn’t all that sure about those odds. I’d never heard anyone squeak so much on an instrument as Gus.
“I wish it was you playing in the finale trio today,” he said. “You’re way better than Angel—nicer, too. I can hardly stand practicing with her. All she does is criticize me.”
We bought curly fries and killed more time shooting darts at the midway, and then I remembered Mom’s birthday. “Let’s go to the craft tents. I’ve got to find something for my mom.”
We sped by the tents with quilts and lawn ornaments, heading straight for the jewelry. Gus helped me pick out a tiny pair of earrings from a Native American vendor. “These are way cool,” he said. “Turquoise. My mom always liked turquoise.”
He turned his head, but I’d seen that his eyes were glistening. All of a sudden my heart hurt for Gus—for the loneliness he must’ve felt every single night, when it was just him and his memories and that big dark sky.
I traced a figure eight in the sand with the toe of my flip-flop. “I bet your mom looked really pretty in turquoise, you know, with her dark hair and everything.”
“Yeah,” he said. “She did.”
I paid for the earrings and tucked them safely down in my pocket, thinking how they were double extra special, in honor of two great mothers—Gus’s and mine. “Thanks for helping pick these out,” I said. “My mom’s going to love them.”
By then I’d spent every last cent of my money, so Gus bought both our sodas. I checked his watch. Eleven: time to call Margaret. I found a pay phone outside the courthouse.
Luckily,
her parents had just gotten home and she was off the hook from baby-sitting. “We’ll meet you by the bingo tent,” I said.
“Did you find the you-know-what?” she whispered.
“No, but we’ve got lots to tell you.”
“Like what? You’re getting along okay with Gus, aren’t you?”
“Yeah. You were right. He really is funny. Nice, too.”
“What all did you do?” she said, and I thought I detected a hint of something familiar—jealousy maybe?—in her voice.
“I can’t go into it now, but it’s big.”
“Gosh. That’s not fair. I can’t believe I got stuck home with the twins while you guys had all the fun.”
I didn’t say it, but I was thinking that it hadn’t been exactly a barrel of laughs when I’d nearly gotten busted as an impostor. “Just hurry up and get down here, okay?”
She made it in five minutes, and she oohed and aahed and held her hand over her mouth while Gus and I told her everything that’d happened, but I seriously thought she was going to have a heart attack when we got to the part about the egg and Granny Goose.
“Oh…no.” She clutched her chest, the color draining from her face. “We’ve got to get over to her house and see what’s happening. At least we can help out with the animals or something.”
Gus and I agreed to go along, but truthfully, I worried Granny Goose wouldn’t even be there, that she’d already been fingerprinted and booked at the Bloomsberry police station. Or what if the cops were tearing through her house at this very moment, searching for the rest of the heirlooms?
Chapter 30
Poor Pitiful Pickles
On our walk across town we went over our strategy for the four o’clock meeting between Leonard and François. “We’ll get there early,” Gus said, “and wait in the alley for—”
“Wait a minute,” Margaret said. “We’ve got that stupid finale. Mr. Austin said our trio will start around three-fifteen.”
Gus shrugged. “No problem. We’ll be done way before four.”
A Recipe for Robbery Page 10