by Deb Loughead
“Actually, there’s more to it,” I said.
I told her everything else that had happened on Wednesday. And her eyes grew even wider.
“So it wasn’t entirely my fault you lost your job, then. It was also about flipping through the reservation book. When you were supposed to be helping in the kitchen. And accusing the boss’s son of digging through trash.” Then Nicole’s face split into a smile. “Wow, how do you manage to get yourself into so much trouble?”
I squinted at her. But I knew she was right. I had a habit of getting into hot water. And this time I wanted to get out of it, as fast as I could. And I knew she could help me.
“You owe me big-time,” I said. “And here’s what you need to do.”
Then I told her exactly what I figured would be going on at the cottage that night. Her mouth fell open and stayed that way until I had finished.
“You mean to say that you know when and where the next robbery will be taking place? And you figured it out by snooping in the Granitewood reservation book and spotting some ink dots? Then googling some phone numbers? That sounds a bit far-fetched.” Nicole rubbed her chin and stared into space.
“Just go to this address tonight. Like around ten, when it’s dark, and wait and see what happens,” I said. Then I handed her a piece of paper.
“I don’t know, Dylan,” she said, shaking her head. “I already have some suspects.”
“But they’re probably the wrong ones! Please, Nicole,” I begged. “Consider it a Crime Stoppers tip, okay?”
“Okay.” She shrugged. “Can’t hurt, I guess.” Then she narrowed her eyes. “But you absolutely cannot be there tonight.”
Nuts. “I hear you,” I said, then stood up and headed for the door.
Yup, I’d heard her loud and clear. But that didn’t mean I would listen. Because there was no chance I was going to miss this.
I squirmed all through dinner that night. Gran stared at me across the table, her eyebrows dancing a jig. She asked me if I had ants in my pants. I told her I was excited about my movie date with Monica. She gave me a sweet, grandmotherly smile.
Monica was waiting for me outside the movie theater, as planned. We didn’t have much choice at the run-down Bridgewood movie theater. There were only ever two films playing, and one was always an animated family flick. We chose the other one, which was a scary movie. Good choice for the cuddle factor. Every time the villain snuck up on the victim, Monica crammed herself even closer to me.
The show let out close to ten. We couldn’t possibly have timed it better. The sky had grown inky black. Instead of heading for home, the two of us, holding hands, headed in the direction of the cottage road on the edge of town. It was only a few blocks away, like everything in Bridgewood. I could feel Monica shivering beside me, and I put my arm around her and squeezed her shoulder.
“Quit worrying,” I said. “Nothing is going to happen.”
“I can’t help it. I’m still nervous,” she said.
The bush closed in around us when we reached the cottage road. I already knew the address by heart. It was just a matter of finding it in the dark. Too bad we were both dumb enough to forget to bring flashlights. We stumbled along, glad for the light from neighboring cottages. That light was how I managed to pick out the target cottage. We sidled along the edge of the road, searching for a good place to hide. The cottage owners had left only one light on. I hooked my arm through Monica’s and led her through the trees and shrubs that surrounded the cottage.
“Stick with me. I think we can get in pretty close,” I said.
In a few seconds, we were close enough that we’d be able to hear anyone coming along the laneway. Maybe even see him in the dim light. And, from our hiding spot, we’d be sure to have a good view of Nicole’s takedown. We crouched there and waited for something to happen.
A few minutes later, something did happen.
Chapter Ten
A heavy hand landed on my shoulder. On Monica’s too, judging by her yelp.
“Okay, you two, let’s go.”
We both spun around. A flashlight flicked on, practically blinding me. But I could tell who was holding it. A police officer was standing there, and he did not look thrilled.
“What the heck?” I said. “What’s going on?”
“I was hoping you could tell me that,” the officer said. “And I’m sure you will once we’re in the cruiser.”
“But what…where did you even come from?” I asked. I groped for Monica’s hand and clutched it tightly. Her hand was clammy and shaking. Mine was too.
“I was standing behind this tree.” He patted the thick trunk of a pine. “We got a tip about this. And here you are, right on schedule. You kids need to find better things to do with your time than ripping off cottagers.”
“What?” I almost shouted. “Where’s Nicole Vance tonight, anyway?”
“Just happening to know an officer’s name won’t get you off the hook, you know.” He took us both by the arm. “Let’s get moving.”
“But I’m the one who gave Nicole the tip! Where is she?”
“Officer Vance finished her shift at five.” The officer’s voice was gruff and no-nonsense. “Come on. Let’s get you kids home to your parents, and we’ll take it from there.”
When I looked at Monica, big fat tears were rolling down her cheeks.
“We are so doomed,” she said.
The officer lit the laneway with his flashlight. We followed the beam to his cruiser, which was parked a ways down the cottage road. It was backed up against a hedge. And unmarked too. We’d waltzed right past it without a clue. I felt like the biggest dope on the planet.
Monica and I sat in the back seat, vibrating with dread. The officer sat in the front seat, looking at a computer screen. That was when we heard foot-steps crunching on the gravel road. As they neared the car, I nudged Monica with my elbow.
“Uh, officer,” I got up the nerve to say. “This might be the person that you actually should be looking for. I mean, instead of us.”
The officer shifted in his seat and turned his head sideways. “When I need your advice, I’ll ask for it,” he said. “Give me a minute here and…”
Then he stopped talking and held up one hand. In the dim light from a nearby cottage, we could make out the shape of someone approaching who clearly wasn’t out for a stroll. This person was skulking along and seemed to be trying to avoid the light.
“Okay, you two, don’t move a muscle,” the officer said to us. Then he quietly climbed out of the car and crept off into the darkness. I wouldn’t have been able to move even if I’d wanted to. Monica’s hand was clamped on my arm, and she wouldn’t let go.
“Don’t you dare even think of trying to follow him,” she hissed. “We’re already in enough trouble.”
“Can’t anyway,” I said. “Cruiser door’s locked.”
“Why did I even listen to your dumb plan, Dylan?” Monica said.
Then I heard her gulp back a sob. Maybe it was a dumb plan after all. Maybe if I’d listened to Nicole this afternoon, we wouldn’t be sitting in the back of a cruiser. But I sure didn’t want to admit that to Monica.
A few minutes later we heard voices. The officer was leading someone toward the car. Then he yanked open the door.
“Squeeze over, you two,” he said.
“What the heck…” I said as Heather slid into the back seat, her face blotchy and wet.
“Dylan!” She turned and hugged me. “Thank goodness you’re here. Maybe you can explain things to this cop!”
Beside me, Monica leaned forward for a better look.
“Oh, Heather the hugger.” Then she pinched my arm so hard that I yelped. “Hah. Real good detective work, Dylan,” Monica said with a snort.
“What are you doing out here in the dark anyway, Heather?” I said.
“Well obviously, trying to track down the jewelry thieves,” Heather said. “But this policeman won’t listen to what I’m telling him.”
&nbs
p; “Oh.” That was all I could say before my mouth went dry. Something Heather had said was making me shrivel up inside. Jewelry thieves? Nicole wouldn’t tell me what had been stolen during the last robbery. Might compromise the investigation, she’d said.
So how did Heather know that jewelry had been stolen?
“Honestly, officer, you have to listen to me. I know who was behind those robberies. I know exactly how it happened too. And I’ll tell you right now.”
Heather’s voice was white noise droning in my ear. I wished I was home in bed instead of sitting in the backseat of a squad car. She was yammering on about Tony and how she’d come here tonight to catch him in the act. She said she’d suspected him all along. I couldn’t believe what was coming out of her mouth. Then the officer cut her off mid-sentence.
“There’s only one problem with your story, young lady.”
“Huh?” Heather said through a couple of loud snuffles.
“It wasn’t public knowledge that jewelry was stolen. How did you know that?”
Silence. Heather started to cry even louder, this time for real. Monica leaned in closer and put her head on my shoulder.
“Sorry I pinched you, Dylan,” she said. “And one more thing. Never trust a super hugger.”
The police officer dropped Monica and me off at home. Which was a total relief. I was safe in bed by eleven. Gran and Mom didn’t need to know what had happened that night—at least, not yet. Lying there under my covers, relief settled over me. Now that Heather was a robbery suspect, Garrett and his friends would be off the hook. I figured the two of us would be on better terms from here on in. Maybe my friends would be off the hook now too. And their parents would set them free for the summer.
I was pretty sure Heather would be unemployed. I planned to be at Granitewood Lodge bright and early the next morning. It was time to explain a few things to my ex-boss, Mr. Hillier.
When I walked through the door just before nine on Saturday, his eyebrows shot up.
“What are you doing here, Dylan?” he said.
“I need to explain some stuff, Mr. Hillier,” I said. “I hope you’re willing to listen.”
Mr. Hillier leaned against the check-in desk. He raised one eyebrow at me.
“This better be worth my time,” he said. “Start talking.”
It was cool to see the changes his face went through while I told my story. His mouth opened and closed like a trout’s. His dark eyebrows bobbed. He shook his head in disbelief.
“You mean to say that you had all this figured out from looking through that reservation book? And that this time you did tip off the police?”
Burning face again. “Heather lied for me that day,” I said. “I told her the truth about why I was late for my job interview. And she’s the one who changed my story. Then on Wednesday, Officer Vance told you what really happened.”
“And then I fired you for lying.” He pursed his lips. “So I think I owe you an apology. And a job. Maybe you’d like to work the reservation desk. I’m sure we’ll be needing someone.”
Something like fireworks went off in my head. “Seriously? That would be awesome!”
“Excellent,” Mr. Hillier said. “But I need you to answer one question first.”
“What’s that, sir?” I said.
He frowned. “Why did you accuse Hayden of garbage picking the other day?”
“Well, I didn’t actually accuse him. I asked him where he got his T-shirt. That’s all.” I tried to smile. I wanted to put that nasty towel incident behind me forever.
“Yeah, he’s right, Dad.” Hayden had stepped into the lobby. He offered me a shaky smile. “And I accused Dylan of accusing me of garbage picking. But I actually did find a cool skateboard T-shirt in the garbage bin on Saturday morning, along with some other stuff. I took out the T-shirt and buried the rest under the trash.”
“Why were you even in the garbage bin though?” I said.
Mr. Hillier smirked. “We like to check it every morning to make sure other people aren’t dumping stuff in our trash containers. Unfortunately, that’s Hayden’s job.”
“So I guess I am a Dumpster diver,” Hayden said, then laughed. “Sorry I gave you a hard time that day. Thought it would look bad to admit the boss’s son went shopping in a garbage bin. So I told my dad what you said to me. I didn’t mean to help you get fired though.”
I shrugged. “Can I just have my T-shirt back?” I asked him.
They both stared at me. “Wait, it’s your T-shirt?” Hayden said.
And I had to tell that towel story all over again. Then try to smile while they laughed their heads off. Well, at least I had a job again.
Only this time, it was an even better one.
Deb Loughead is the author of more than twenty-five books for children and young adults ranging from poetry and plays to picture books and novels, many in translation. Her award-winning poetry and prose have appeared in a variety of Canadian publications. Deb likes to spend her non-writing time reading, knitting, walking her dog Cleo, or hanging out close to the water in cottage country. She lives with her family in Toronto, Ontario.
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