I held up a hand. “Not here. We have a lot to talk about, and I’m sick of being stared at.” Then I reached out to both girls. “Come with me, now.”
No, seriously, come on. Before the adults get here and start asking questions.
Larissa jerked back, murdering me with her eyes. Gritting my teeth, I reached out and grabbed both girls’ arms. I pulled them to either side of me. “Let’s go somewhere else, and you can explain everything to me.”
I turned around, ready to lead the girls toward the help office, where everyone knew the police were. As soon as we turned around, I saw Becca staring at me from the crowd. It gave me a weird feeling of déjà vu. She broke away to join me and the sisters.
“Hey,” I said to her as she fell into step beside me.
“Hey,” she said. I couldn’t read her face exactly, but I didn’t see any anger there. “You got them?”
“He got the wrong people,” Larissa barked. “Let us go.”
Quinn just looked at me, emotions in her eyes I couldn’t identify. I wasn’t sure I wanted to.
“Yeah, I got them,” I said to Becca.
That weird, not-angry, not-smug look on Becca’s face hung there for a moment. Then she banished it and nodded once. “Let’s take them to my mom.”
“No,” I said. That would ruin everything. “Let’s talk to them in private. Let’s make sure. I’m not as good a detective as you are.”
“You’re not a detective at all,” Quinn said. “You’re a thief.”
I smiled and tugged on the girls. Hard. “This way.”
They followed. Becca came up beside me and took Quinn’s arm. As she did, we passed a sculpture that looked like a melting Rubik’s Cube, only with holes through the center. I’d seen it before; but where? It was painted all kind of colors. The paint was interesting, kind of shiny.
But I had a show to finish putting on. Becca and I led the Eccles sisters away.
“Thanks,” Becca said to me in a low voice. “Look, everything I said before—”
“Don’t worry about it,” I replied.
Becca walked silently next to me. “It just . . . I was watching from the side. It all looks different from that angle.”
I thought of my experience watching Becca attack Case. “It does.”
“I guess . . . partners should say something when the other one crosses a line.”
“I’ve always thought so. And hey, you’ve done it for me.”
She sighed. “I’m sorry. How I’ve been today. It’s just . . . this is important. I want to do well.”
“I get it. And we’re one step closer to getting the proof you need for your mom.”
“Right. So how do you want to play this?” Becca asked. “I can take good cop, since you’ve already set up bad cop.”
In other words, Becca wanted to work together again. It felt surprisingly pleasant to be on her side again.
It was also weird, thinking of Becca as the good cop. I guess I’d put her in that position earlier, at the tent, but here she was, volunteering for the role.
“I’ve got a plan,” I said. “Let’s get away from the crowds first.”
I steered the group to the help office’s storage room door.
“What, are you trying to make some kind of point?” Larissa spat at me when she saw where I’d brought them.
“Sure am,” I said as I let her go. “But not for you.”
All three girls gave me confused looks. Becca raised an eyebrow. I sighed and faced Quinn, who still wouldn’t meet my eyes.
“I’m sorry for all this,” I said. “I know you’re innocent. If nothing else, your reaction to the accusation proved it.”
“So all of that was for show?” Larissa said. Quinn put her face in her hands.
I nodded. “I’m sorry I couldn’t explain ahead of time, but your reactions needed to be real. Everyone watching needed to buy that you two were the saboteurs, at least for a little while.”
Larissa’s eyes blazed. She stepped up and slapped me hard across the face. I reeled, and Becca burst out laughing.
“Oh, I like her!” she said between howls of laughter.
“Great, I’m glad,” I mumbled through a swelling face. “Can you find my nose? I think it landed over there somewhere.”
Quinn had recovered, apparently. She was looking at me with a grin on her face. I was happy that my face getting torn off was good for something.
“How dare you?” Larissa yelled. “How dare you humiliate Quinn in front of all those people? After all I did to protect her, you—” She stopped, realizing what she had just said.
Becca, who had been leaning against the wall, chuckling, stood up. “What exactly did you do?”
I waved at Becca. “You may as well tell her,” I said to Larissa. “If she didn’t hear it when I was doing my accusation, Quinn probably did. It’s time to come clean.”
Larissa paled, but then she took a breath and started to explain the theft of Heather’s art supplies.
“I didn’t mean to hurt anyone,” she finished. “I just wanted to protect Quinn.”
Quinn was frowning. “Larissa. Do you realize what you did?”
Larissa nodded. “I made it so you can’t win the contest. I’m sorry. I thought I was doing the right thing.”
“Not to mention leaving incriminating evidence with an innocent person,” I said, looking at Becca. “Who knows what that would have looked like?”
“Shut up, Wilderson,” Becca said. “Case is in the clear on all counts. We get it.”
Quinn wasn’t done with Larissa. “If anyone had found the painting you hid, they would have thought I was involved.”
“They wouldn’t,” Larissa said.
“They might,” Becca said, looking at me. I shrugged.
Then Becca turned back to Larissa, her arms folded. The younger Eccles sister visibly shivered.
“This is what you’re going to do,” Becca said. “You are going to return all those stolen art supplies to Heather. Personally. You are going to look her in the eye and say you’re sorry. She can decide what she wants to do, but if it’s unfair, you come to me.”
Larissa nodded. “Anything else?”
“This business with the painting was discovered too late to bring to the judges’ attention,” Becca said. “Either your dummy painting wins something or Quinn walks away with nothing. You two need to decide how you will handle this.” Larissa didn’t move, and Becca flipped her hand at her. “Like, now.”
Quinn grabbed Larissa’s shoulder. “She’s right. We need to talk about this.”
As the sisters made things right (it sounded like Larissa would have to do Quinn’s chores for the rest of the summer as penance, and return the stolen painting), Becca came over to me. “That was gentle of you,” I said.
Becca grinned. “It’s summer. Not my jurisdiction.” Then she punched me hard in the arm. “But don’t think for one moment that I’m going to go easy on you once we get back to school in the fall.”
First Larissa, now Becca. I was everyone’s favorite punching bag that day. “I really don’t know what I did to merit this level of physical abuse.”
“Well, you did make us look like criminals in front of everyone,” Quinn said as she and Larissa came back over. “Can’t say I appreciated that.”
“Again, I’m sorry. But we had to do it.”
Quinn raised her chin and glared at me. “Seriously? Everyone would have seen that. All our friends, their parents . . .”
“The saboteurs,” I added. That got everyone’s attention. “Yeah,” I said. “Word of my fake accusation will probably get around. Now that they saw you get taken down, they’ll feel safe.”
“Safe enough to try again,” Becca said, catching on. She beamed. “We know one of our saboteurs, but not the other. They’ll make their move, and when they do—”
“We’ll be there, waiting. For both of them,” I said. Oh, the cleverness of me. It’s wonderful when other people see it.
&nb
sp; “Not sorry I hit you,” Larissa said. “But that’s a good plan.”
Quinn’s glare had changed to a soft warmth. “Not bad, thief.”
I smiled and bowed.
“Who’s your suspect?” Larissa asked.
“Aaron Baxter,” Becca said.
“The finger painter from Burdick?” Quinn asked, frowning. “Well, he would definitely have motive.”
“He has means, too,” I added. “Lots of access to paints and judge notes. He was also nearby when Diana’s painting was attacked.”
“So if Aaron’s one saboteur, who’s the other?” Larissa asked.
“That’s what we’re trying to figure out,” Becca said. “By the way, I’m still not convinced Quinn is completely innocent. I understand about the painting switch, but there are still some things that I need cleared up.” Her phone rang, and she looked at the screen. “It’s Liesl,” she said. “I bet these are the paint sample’s results. I better take this. Wilderson, would you?”
“Yeah, I got this.” I turned to Quinn. “Why do you have that black paint on you?”
Quinn shrugged. “I bought it at the gift shop. A friend from the Art Club needs a little for shading, and it was on sale.”
I nodded. Over to the side, I could see Becca talking but also glancing over at us, paying attention to what we said. “Why not just leave it in your locker?” I asked. “That’s where Lee kept his weird notebook and camera.”
“How did you know about Lee’s things?” Quinn asked.
“I—uh.” There was no good way to answer that.
I expected another glare, but instead Quinn burst out laughing. “Wow. I heard you were the best, but this is unbelievable. Did you really safecrack Lee’s locker?”
“That’s nothing,” Larissa said. “You should hear what happened in the help building—”
Oh man. Becca was looking over and she had that steely look in her eyes. “Tell her about it later,” I said. “Let’s focus on the here and now.”
“Okay,” Quinn said, still giggling. “I’m sorry. It’s wrong of me, I know. But I can’t believe you broke into a locker. Who does that?”
“I do,” I said. “But never mind me.” Becca rejoined the circle. “Learn anything?” I asked her.
“Yes, and it’s weird,” Becca said. “It’s house paint.”
“What?” all three of us asked.
Becca nodded. “The saboteur’s paint is the kind of paint sold in hardware stores for painting a house’s interior walls. I thought I recognized its stretchiness. It’s just like the paint Dad bought for us to paint our living room, except red, not beige.”
“Weird. Who would have that here?”
“The park would,” Becca said. “Remember all those paint cans in the toolshed?”
“Any of those could be the saboteur’s weapon. And Aaron might have access to that shed.”
“One more point in his favor. But who’s his accomplice?”
“I don’t know. But I know what to look for if someone is acting suspicious.”
“Then that’s your job.” Becca handed me her camera. “Take this and get a picture of anyone acting weird. Do not delete anything.”
“Sure, like I want to go through your righteous fury again,” I mumbled as I took the camera.
“And if someone says anything interesting, get a video. My camera has a great microphone.”
“I know. You’ve only tried to use it to tape me confessing a hundred times.” I put the camera in my pocket.
“That’s an exaggeration. I’m going to go look for Aaron. I’d like to ask him some questions,” Becca said. “We better hurry. Your stunt must have hit the rumor mill by now, and the saboteurs haven’t struck in a while. They could attack any minute.”
“We want to help,” Larissa said. “Quinn’s a contestant. She could have easily been attacked. That means we’re involved.”
“You sure?” I asked. “You don’t have to.”
Quinn smiled. “Let’s catch these guys. It’ll be fun.”
I raised my eyebrows at her. “You aren’t mad at me, then? I could have ruined your reputation.”
“I think it will take more than one public accusation to change how people see me,” Quinn said lightly. “Besides, Larissa gave you a much better punishment than I could have.” I rubbed my face. Good thing Quinn was just as mild-mannered as Becca and Larissa had said or I’d be getting slapped again.
“Okay, then,” Becca said. “We’ll need both of you looking if we’re going to find these guys in time.”
“Stop,” I said. “We don’t have time to run around the park. Who knows if we’d even bump into them?”
Becca folded her arms. “Do you have a better suggestion?”
I grinned. “Why chase them when we can wait for them to come to us? We know who else is marked.”
She opened her mouth, then closed it, frowning. “I can’t believe I didn’t think of that.”
“We set guards over the remaining art. When the saboteurs come, and they will—”
“We’ll have them.”
I nodded. “Do you think catching the saboteurs red-handed will be proof enough for your mom?”
Becca grinned. “Absolutely.”
My neck prickled. “Then let’s go.”
WITHIN MINUTES, WE WERE IN position. Becca assigned us all places to wait for the saboteurs to strike. Larissa was sent to watch Sandra’s sculpture. Becca would hang around near Henry’s photograph. Quinn went somewhere she could get a perfect bird’s-eye view of the park: the balcony of the art museum.
“It’s a good lookout,” Becca told me when I’d smirked at her. “You can search for patterns of guilty people.”
As for me, I was the floater. I was supposed to wander the park, looking for suspicious activity. We were 90 percent sure Aaron and his partner would attack the marked works; I was to look out for the other 10 percent.
Larissa didn’t have a phone, so Becca lent her hers. I gave the sisters Mom’s number so we could communicate in some way. “If you see him or if you see anything weird, text me,” I’d told them. “Either Becca or I will come to help you.”
Since Becca was without her phone, she and I would have to go talk to each other in person if something happened. Inconvenient but necessary. It was better if the sisters could call for help; Becca knew how to take care of herself.
And so we began. The girls laid in wait, and I went on the hunt.
Here’s the thing about searching for a single object in a large space: it doesn’t matter if it’s a missing shoe or a prime sabotage suspect—either way, you have a lot of ground to cover. It’s worse when the object you’re looking for can move. You have to move too, and do it smarter and faster than whatever you’re chasing. I moved at random, taking turns without clear reason, keeping my eyes peeled for Aaron’s accomplice (and can I just comment on how gross that saying is? “Eyes peeled”? Who came up with that, Dr. Frankenstein?).
When you’re moving that much, you’re bound to run into something. For me, it was Case and Hack. They were walking toward the Contestants’ Tent, and Case looked irritated.
“Hey,” I said. “What’s going on?”
“We have to go to the tent,” Case groaned.
Hack shook his head. “Case wanted to guard his painting some more. We took your advice, and Case kept guard while I looked for clues. We found nothing, though, and it’s time for the awards ceremony.”
Awards ceremony? Was it that time already? “So that’s it? Everything was judged?”
The danger might have passed, which was good news. But it also meant the saboteurs were in the wind. We’d never catch them.
Case snorted. “You’d think. But the judges were delayed earlier because the police were investigating. There are still some pieces they haven’t seen yet. I don’t think they’ve even looked at the sculptures.”
“Then why are you going to the awards ceremony?”
“Because it’s still at four,” Case sai
d, rolling his eyes. “And no one changed the schedule. The rest of us have to keep pretending that this is still okay, that nothing’s wrong. We’ll be sitting there for half an hour, waiting. Who knows what the saboteur could do with that time?”
“I think he missed his shot,” Hack said. “Too many police. If I were him, I’d have something planned to ruin the awards ceremony. I think having to go to the tent is a good thing.”
“I think so too,” I said. I meant it; if the saboteurs had missed their shot with Sandra and Henry, they might try to ruin the awards. No prizes, no one wins. “Keep an eye out, okay?”
“You too, right?” Case asked. “You’re coming.”
“I have to do something first, but I wouldn’t miss your moment of glory.”
Case smiled. “I don’t know if I’d call it glory. Everyone knows Sandra’s going to take Best Overall . . . .”
I waved and raced off. If the judges weren’t done with the favorites, the saboteurs still had one chance left to destroy the competition. We had to stop them now.
People were streaming to the tent. The paths were emptying, and empty paths meant more chances for the saboteurs to strike.
That meant Sandra could be in real trouble. I hurried to the sculpture garden, passing that punk Lee with his stupid buttoned-up vest, probably on his way to meet his so-called friend at the tent for the ceremony.
No sign of the judges yet. I admired Sandra’s statue again. I could see why everyone thought she’d win; the wax etchings were so detailed. If the saboteurs dumped paint on this, those delicate scratches could be hidden. It would be ruined.
It looked really good, especially sitting right next to a sculpture that looked like a melted Rubik’s Cube. That piece was painted in all kinds of colors, using what seemed to be all kinds of paint. I ran a finger over the sculpture. The paint changed texture as I moved from blue to red, from rough tempera to something smooth. Not quite a glaze . . . hmmm.
“Hands off the art,” a voice whispered in my ear. I pulled back to see Larissa, wearing a pair of sunglasses and burying her face in a park map.
“I didn’t even see you,” I said. “Nice.”
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