A Recipe for Robbery

by Marybeth Kelsey

  “I think two of us should sneak in the kitchen door again,” I said. “And then one of us”—probably Margaret, because she was still the most scared—“can stay outside, in case of an emergency.”

  “Right,” Gus said. “If they meet in François’ office, we’ll eavesdrop outside the door. Since the café’s closing for patio work, I bet no one else will be there.”

  I stopped on the sidewalk. “What if François’ fiancée, Greta, is there? That’ll mess everything up.”

  Gus shook his head. “Nah, no way she’s involved. There’s less than a thirty percent chance he’d tell his fiancée he’s a crook.”

  “Okay,” Margaret said. “So what happens if they meet on the patio, instead of in the office?”

  “You can watch through the fence posts. Lindy and I’ll try to get a good view of them from the inside, maybe find a window that looks out onto the patio,” Gus said. “I’ll have my dad’s cell. As soon as we get some proof, either by hearing something or photos, it’s a quick nine-one-one.”

  He seemed to think our upcoming rendezvous would play out like a first-grade math problem, and I went along with him, acting all brave about everything. Deep down, though, I wasn’t so sure. I couldn’t put my finger on it, but all of a sudden I had this nagging worry that something might go wrong. Something big.

  I tried to ignore my growing doubts as Margaret and I headed up Granny Goose’s porch steps. Margaret rang the doorbell, and just like the last time, we didn’t get an answer. I peeked inside the window again. Other than Doris the duck, nestled on the couch, there wasn’t any sign of activity.

  Gus ran around from the side of the house and joined us on the porch. “The backyard gate’s locked,” he said. “They must have her down at headquarters.”

  “Oh, this is so awful,” Margaret said. “And unfair, too. I can’t believe they’re arresting an innocent person. What about Pickles? Who’s going to take care of her? She needs lots of attention, you know. She’s just a helpless animal.”

  “I bet Granny Goose called her son to help,” I said, trying to make Margaret feel better. “I remember her saying he lives in Orlando. He’s a veterinarian.”

  That calmed her down a little, and we’d just decided to leave when we heard the honk. It came from the direction of Cricket’s house.

  Margaret snapped her head around. “That’s Pickles.”

  “AAAGH! GET BACK! GET AWAY FROM ME, YOU—YOU BEAST!”

  “Hold on!” Margaret shouted. She flew down the steps and across the lawn toward Cricket’s, yelling the whole way, “Don’t worry, I’ll get her. Here, Pickles, Pickles. Here, good girl.”

  By the time Gus and I made it to Cricket’s yard, Margaret already had Pickles scooped into her arms. “Wittle bitty baby was scared, wasn’t her?” she cooed. “But don’t you worry one wittle bit, ’cause Auntie Margo’s gonna take care of you.”

  Pickles bobbed her neck and made some kind of weird, gargling sound. Her leash hung from the harness around her body, and a shiny, SureFresh mint tin was clamped in her bill.

  Cricket stood by a small storage shed at the side of her house, clutching a Shear Magic duffel bag against her chest. She jabbed her finger at Pickles. “Oh, my God. That hideous thing nearly pecked my eyes out. I was in my shed getting supplies when it flew at me from out of nowhere. It got my mints.”

  I worked the SureFresh tin out of Pickles’s mouth and handed it to Cricket. “Sorry about that. She likes shiny stuff.”

  “I don’t care what she likes. Just get her away from me—now!” She took a couple of deep breaths, eyeing me with a “what are you doing back here” kind of expression. “Snooping again—after our little talk? I thought we had an understanding. I have your mom’s number at the shop, you know.”

  “Oh, we’re absolutely not snoopers,” Margaret said. “We just stopped by to visit Mrs. Unger, but she’s not home. You don’t happen to know where she is, do you?”

  “I’ve got a pretty good idea, but I’m not at liberty to say.” Cricket headed toward the front of her house, calling over her shoulder, “Make sure that goose stays out of my yard.”

  I patted Pickles on the head as we left Cricket’s. “What are we supposed to do with her now? Granny Goose is gone, maybe in jail”—Margaret winced when I said that—“and Pickles is locked out of the yard.”

  “We’ll take her with us,” Margaret said. “She’s a good goose, aren’t you, Pickles? She has her leash on, so she won’t get lost.” Pickles paced back and forth between us, bobbing her head and making soft, gurgling noises. I couldn’t help feeling sorry for her, especially since she might not have a home much longer.

  I thought maybe I should prepare Margaret for the worst. “You know, Granny Goose might not come home tonight. What do you want to do about Pickles if that happens?”

  “She’ll spend the night at my house. Won’t you, baby?”

  “Suppose Granny Goose is gone, you know, like more than a night? Like, maybe, for way more than a night.”

  Margaret’s chin jutted out. “I’ll keep her for good then. I’ll take Doris the duck, too.”

  Chapter 31

  Preparations…

  I checked Gus’s watch as soon as we got back to the courthouse square. Eleven-fifty. I was due at the Tarts’ tent at noon to help set up for the afternoon fish fry and the festival finale. I couldn’t chance being late and irritating my mom; otherwise, she might nix my plans for the rest of the day.

  Gus called Granny Goose’s from the courthouse pay phone. He left a message on her machine that we had Pickles, and then we met my mom at twelve on the dot.

  “This is a feather in your cap, Miss Lindy,” Mom said, smiling. “Right on time. I guess you haven’t been up to anything too outrageous today. And would one of you like to tell me why you have Evelyn’s goose?”

  “We’re helping Mrs. Unger out this afternoon,” Margaret said, patting Pickles’s head.

  “Well, I guess that explains it then.” From the way Mom smiled, I figured she hadn’t heard the latest on Granny Goose.

  She gave me detailed instructions for the setup: “don’t do this,” and “be sure to do that,” and “don’t leave before you do this.” It sounded like I’d be busy for hours.

  Margaret and Gus offered to help. “We have to leave for our instruments around two, though,” Margaret said. “Remember, we have that dress rehearsal before the finale.”

  She looked over her shoulder at Gus, then mouthed to me, “Squeaking problem.”

  I didn’t doubt that one bit.

  The four of us, counting Pickles, who was practically attached to Margaret at the hip by now, arranged tables and chairs and hung banners. We went over our plans, too. Gus kept assuring Margaret and me that everything would work out fine. “It’ll be so cool,” he said. “I can’t wait to see the looks on those guys’ faces when they get nabbed.”

  We were taking a lunch break when Mr. Austin stopped by our table.

  “Glad I found you,” he said. And then he put one arm around Gus and the other around Margaret, which of course didn’t leave an arm for me. “You two haven’t forgotten about your performance with Angel today, have you?”

  “We haven’t forgotten,” Margaret said. “Courthouse at two-thirty for the practice, right?”

  “Uh, excuse me, Mr. Austin,” I said. “We have a little something to do at around three forty-five. You think they’ll be finished by then?”

  He pulled a schedule out of his back pocket. “Let’s see. The tap dancers are on at three-thirty, and the trio is right before that, so it looks as if your friends will be good to go in plenty of time.”

  “How come you have to leave so early, Lindy?” trilled a snooty voice from behind me. “Do you have a date?” Angel scooted up beside Mr. Austin. She had on the same pink princess gown as this morning, and she was swinging a sleek, shiny flute at her side. Angel flashed the flute in my face, smirking like Pixie after she’s polished off a can of tuna. “Grammy had it sent fr
om Germany. They make superexpensive flutes over there, you know.”

  Germany Schmermany. I stuffed a handful of potato chips in my mouth.

  “It’s very nice, Angel,” Mr. Austin said, smiling at her. “Okay, Gus. I’ll see you and Margaret at practice. Make sure you have a good reed.”

  “Oh. Uh, yeah. No problem. I’ve got a couple of new ones in my case.”

  “Great. See you later.” Mr. Austin took off across the lawn.

  As soon as he was gone, Angel leaned into her friend Caroline’s ear. “Mr. Austin forgot to tell the sexy-phone player to bring two hundred sets of earplugs,” she said in a fake whisper. “Because the audience is going to need them once he starts squeaking.”

  “Oh, yeah? Well they’re going to need heavy-duty nose plugs when you play. Because you totally stink,” I said.

  “Shut…up. The only thing that stinks around here is you,” Angel said, “and that stupid goose.”

  Okay, that did it. She didn’t need to go insulting an innocent animal. I brushed a piece of shortcake off the table, next to the Princess’s foot, then snapped my fingers and tugged at Pickles’s leash. Like a cyclone, she blew out from under the table and went straight for Angel’s ankles.

  Gus, Margaret, and I cracked up laughing as the Princess ran across the lawn, screaming her head off.

  After we’d finished eating, the three of us dragged more chairs from the courthouse, lining them in rows for the festival finale. It seemed like everyone in Bloomsberry but me would be performing today: ballet dancers, baton twirlers, the Cucumber Jazz Quartet. Even the Senior Squares were scheduled for a line dance.

  At two, Gus and Margaret left for their instruments so they could make it back in time for their final rehearsal. When they raced across the lawn with Pickles, jealousy poked at my chest like an icicle. Once again they were doing something without me. I straightened rows of chairs, helped Mom set out condiments, and sliced cucumbers for the salad.

  The whole time I worked I tried to forget about not being a part of the trio. I tried not to be resentful of Angel, who was playing my part in my favorite concert piece with my friends. Instead, I focused on the upcoming rendezvous. I kept reminding myself that in just a few hours the three of us would be way more than a small festival act. We’d be town heroes. We’d be rich. And I’d have a chance to play in a way more important concert—that one in Tallahassee.

  Chapter 32

  Henry’s Heavy Heart

  My mom sent me home around three to feed Pixie, give Dad her last-minute shopping list of things she needed for the fish fry, and walk Henry back to the festival.

  I set the bag with Mom’s earrings on a bookshelf and gave Dad his grocery list. He grumbled a little about “Why didn’t we get these supplies all taken care of yesterday when we were at Winn-Dixie?” He found his keys and his wallet and took off.

  After pouring Pixie a bowl of salmon nuggets, I headed upstairs for Henry. He was in his room, hiding under another blanket fort. Wrapping paper, ribbons, and tape were strewn across the floor.

  “You’re going to get in big trouble if you don’t clean that mess up quick,” I yelled on my way to the bathroom. “Mom’s going to be really mad if you leave it.”

  The kitchen clock had read three-oh-five. I had ten minutes to get back to the festival and watch Margaret and Gus perform. Only forty-five minutes until we were in the alley behind Simply Paris. I tried to forget my nagging worry about things going wrong. Instead, I focused on the reward that awaited us.

  Hopefully, we’d have everything wrapped up by five this afternoon. We’d still have time to eat at the fish fry, maybe even ride the Sizzler again. And then we’d be on the front page of tomorrow’s paper.

  I couldn’t wait to see the look on Angel’s face when I swaggered up to the front of City Hall and collected our five thousand dollars. She was going to have a cow.

  I poked my head back in Henry’s room. He hadn’t picked up the first thing. “Come on,” I said. “Quit wasting time.”

  He crawled out from his tent, holding a fistful of wrapping paper. “I’m not wasting time. I’m wrapping Mom’s present. And ha, ha, ha. It’s going to be way better than what you got her. Look. See if you can guess what it is.”

  When he handed me a small, heavy, heart-shaped object wrapped in Christmas paper…well, let’s just say my own heart screamed “Cardiac arrest!” Now I’m not psychic or anything. But I knew, after eyeing the mess on his floor, what was inside the Santa Claus paper.

  Old pictures, cut in heart-shaped designs, were strewn everywhere. And, it occurred to me that Henry said he’d cleaned his bike yesterday. Okay. Cleaned it with what? I’d be willing to bet the whole five-thousand-dollar reward he’d used Grubb’s grime remover.

  I shook his present and tried to act casual. “Cool. Can I see what’s inside it?”

  “No. It’s a secret.”

  “Pretty please with sugar on it, and I’ll give you my Boggle Junior and Scrabble Kids game.”

  He made pouty lips. His forehead crinkled, like he was deep in thought, like this negotiation equaled a baseball card trade. “I don’t want the Boggle Junior or Scrabble Kids.”

  “What do you want?” Little brat.

  “Your soccer ball. You know, the one that famous player signed.”

  Drat. Now why’d he have to go and ask for that, my all-time favorite collector item? Henry didn’t even play soccer. He was a T-ball fanatic.

  “No.”

  “You can’t see it, then.” He grabbed the present from me and tucked it neatly into his pocket.

  “Okay, okay. You can have the soccer ball. Just give me the present.”

  “Go get the ball first.”

  Grrrr. Thwarted again. I wanted to shake him till his baby teeth rattled loose, but that would take too much time. His Mickey Mouse clock read three-twelve. I flew to my room, then back with the soccer ball.

  Henry snatched it and ran downstairs. “Ha-ha, tricked ya!” he yelled.

  I raced down the stairs after him, and tackled him before he got out the front door. The scuffle didn’t last long, because I was dead set on getting that present. After worming it out of his pocket, I tore off the wrapper.

  Yep. It was the locket all right. I flicked the clasp open.

  Oh.

  Crud.

  Angel’s picture was gone. It’d been replaced by a photo of Henry and me in our bathing suits at the beach.

  It took me three whole minutes to convince Henry we couldn’t keep the locket because I’d found it outside Quick Mart and had to return it. It took two minutes to locate the original picture of the Princess. It took one minute to bust open my piggy bank and hand him every cent I owned. All in all, I lost six minutes and $12.15.

  “They have lockets at Dino’s Dollar Store,” I promised Henry. “Later today Dad can drive you over there, and you can buy Mom one that’s a lot prettier than this ugly thing.”

  “Yeah,” he sniffled. “But are they gold?”

  “Oh, yes,” I fibbed. “Solid gold.” Well, actually it wasn’t too big of a fib, because I had seen gold heart-shaped lockets once at Dino’s Dollar. They were gaudy, but at least they were affordable. Henry would probably be able to buy two lockets and have money left over for perfume.

  He stopped whining, finally, when I promised he could help me bake Mom a chocolate birthday cake. We left the house at three-nineteen. I had the locket in one pocket and Angel’s picture in the other.

  I nearly pulled Henry’s arm out of its socket as I dragged him to the square. “Remember,” I whispered before dropping him off with Mom, “you can’t say one single word about this locket. It’s our special secret. If you say anything, you’re going to get grounded for the whole summer for getting into Dad’s grime remover, because it’s dangerous poison, and you’re not allowed to touch it. You won’t be able to play T-ball or anything. And I’ll take the soccer ball back.”

  “Gotta go,” I said to Mom after giving Henry one last secret Lo
ok.

  “I don’t know what your rush is,” she said. “They’re having problems with the loudspeaker system. Margaret and Gus won’t be onstage for a good while.”

  “What?” My jaw dropped. We were supposed to be on our way to Simply Paris in a few minutes.

  I must’ve looked like I’d just seen a spaceship or something, because Mom’s eyes widened with her superconcerned expression. She felt my forehead. “Are you all right, Lindy? You feel a little warm. And honestly, your face has lost its color.”

  She crossed her arms over her chest. “Wait a minute. Have you had anything substantial to eat today, or has it all been sugar, sugar, sugar?”

  “It’s been all sugar, sugar, sugar,” Henry said. “I saw her with an orange soda this morning.”

  “Soda? In the morning? For goodness’ sake, Lindy. You know better than that.”

  “I just had a couple of sips, honest.” I backed away from her, glancing over my shoulder at the stage. No sign of any performance activity, but I did see several men gathered around one of the speakers. “It looks like they’re fixing things,” I said. “Guess I’ll run over and watch the concert.”

  “Make sure you eat some fish later,” Mom called out. “You need the protein.”

  I hurried to the crowded stage area, searching for Margaret and Gus. I figured they had to be around somewhere, because Pickles was tied to a front-row chair.

  “Over here, Lindy,” Margaret called. She and Gus were on the far side of the stage, surrounded by a troupe of kindergarten tap dancers.

  “What’s going on?” I yelled after pushing my way through the crowd. “We’re going to be late.”

  “We’ve got a problem,” Gus shouted from the stage. I could barely see him or Margaret for all the screaming tap dancers.

  “The sound system broke down,” Margaret said. “Everything’s running behind.”

  Great. Just great. I couldn’t even tell them about finding the locket, because they were up onstage, and I was down in the audience, and there were a million people swarming all around and between us, ranting about the broken sound system.