“Hungry cats need food,” is all he says with a shrug.
“It wasn’t a cat, it was a ferret,” I say. “She stole Angel’s halo band.”
“Ah, the little furry fellow is up to his tricks again.” Sergei’s frown lifts at the edges, the closest I’ve seen to a smile.
“Not a he; the ferret is a girl,” I correct him. “She plays with my kitten sometimes and she has a nest in…near my house. My friend Becca knows a lot about ferrets and told me that female ferrets collect things to make nests. I don’t know how she got the headband but I have to return it to Angel,” I rush on nervously.
He nods as if this makes sense. “I will find the band to return to Angel. The furry friend has a hiding place nearby.”
“So she does belong to you?” I ask, raising my eyebrows.
“Nyet. I mean, no.” He shakes his head. “No one owns the creatures of the wild. But the ferret likes to sleep in my shed.”
“How long has she been staying there?”
“Few months.” He grasps my hand. His callused fingers are surprisingly gentle as he helps me to my feet. He points to my bloody knee. “I will fix.”
“I don’t need to be fixed.” I wobble as I try to walk.
“I will clean for you. You do not want infection.”
Before I can argue, he scoops me up in his arms and carries me up the steps into his house. The door thuds behind us.
My parents have warned me not to talk to strangers—and this metal-pierced man has to be one of the strangest people I’ve ever met. But he’s kind to animals, works with Dad, and seems concerned about my knee.
So I switch to sleuth mode and study my surroundings.
The living room is crowded with an oversized dark leather couch that probably folds out into a bed, an odd twisted-metal sculpture, and a giant TV that takes up an entire wall. But every surface is shines with cleanliness. Kudos to Sergei’s housekeeping skills.
Sergei sits me gently on the couch. “You wait. I get first-aid kit,” he says then strides down a hallway to the back of the house.
It’s eerie being here alone.
Or am I alone? What’s that sound?
A shadow moves across a recliner, and I see a long tail swish. I meet the golden gaze of a giant ginger cat as it gracefully lunges from the chair to the couch and pads over to me.
“Hello, pretty kitty.” I hold out my hand for him to sniff. “Do you like to be petted?”
The answer is yes. He purrs when I scratch below his chin. “I have an orange cat too,” I tell him. “But my kitten is only a few months old and about the size of your head. My, you’re a big kitty.”
“Alexei is a Maine coon,” Sergei’s voice comes from behind me. “He weighs over twenty pounds.”
“Wow! That’s a lot for a cat.”
I pull my hand away from Alexei but he reaches out to paw me.
“He will not want you to stop,” Sergei says, and for the first time he’s smiling. His teeth are smallish and a little crooked.
He bends down to swab dirt away from my knee with a soft damp cloth.
“Thanks…ow!” I flinch as he dabs on antibiotic ointment.
Sergei takes out a bandage from the kit then shakes his head. “Too small. Wait here,” he says then stands abruptly and leaves the room again.
Alexei rubs up against me and l get the hint, so I pet him. He reminds of me of his owner, intense to look at but a big softy.
I hear something bang from the back of the house. Sergei must be having trouble finding a larger bandage. The bleeding has stopped so I go to tell him I don’t need one. As I pass the kitchen, I notice a wall covered with framed photos.
Of course I have to snoop.
One of the photos shows Sergei as a teenager without piercings and standing proudly in a crimson and gold school uniform. Above that is photo of a pretty red-haired girl who looks a little like him—his sister maybe. She’s in another photo too, but older and cradling a baby. There’s also a photo of a bushy-tailed orange kitten which must be Alexei.
As I turn to leave, a scrap of paper on the table catches my eye. It’s the size of a movie ticket and seems out of place on the shining dining room table. I check it out.
The paper has a serrated edge like it’s a receipt ripped off a larger piece of paper. At the top in bold print, there’s a numbered code, the name S. Petrov, a February date, and a money amount: $1,250.00. The small print at the bottom reads Paul’s Pawn Shop.
A pawn ticket!
- Chapter 16 -
A Sticky Situation
My knee is bandaged, my jeans are ruined, but all I can think about as I limp home is the pawn ticket. On crime shows, thieves often pawn stolen items. A startling suspicion strikes me. The emerald king was stolen about three months ago. If the entire set is worth about $85,000 (according to Leo’s calculations) then one chess piece would easily be worth a thousand dollars.
Could the emerald king be at Paul’s Pawn Shop?
Shaking my head, I pause to lean against a tree. My knee doesn’t hurt much but walking fast might start the bleeding again. I think back to Angel hinting that a family member stole the chess piece, which rules out Sergei. He’s not in the Bragg family. Still, the pawn ticket is suspicious, and I can’t wait to discuss it with my club mates.
I have an hour before our CCSC meeting, so when I get home, I hunker down in front of the computer. I can hear Mom running the vacuum upstairs and my brother watching TV in the living room. My sisters aren’t around. They’re probably still avoiding each other.
When I Google the “King of Resorts,” I find out his full name is Franklin Dickson Bragg, but I can’t imagine anyone calling him Frankie, like our associate CCSC member’s nickname.
I click a link that sends me to a travel website. Other links turn out to be advertisements too. I try more specific word combinations—and bingo! There’s a photograph of a much-younger Franklin Dickson Bragg with his arm around a stunning dark-haired woman. She has warm dark skin and smiling glossy-peach lips. Her name is Jasmine Simone. The caption reads, “King Chooses His Queen.” A wedding announcement dated from thirty-eight years ago. I do the math and realize Mr. Bragg is over sixty. If he has kids, they’re old enough to have kids of their own.
Another link mentions Jasmine twelve years later: a divorce announcement. I skim over the article, which is mostly boring legal details, until I reach the last line: Jasmine Simone-Bragg maintains custody of their daughter, Deidra.
Mr. Bragg does have a child! At least she was a child when the article was written over two decades ago. Did Deidra have regular visits with her father like Leo does with his dad? Or did she grow up without him? Even an estranged father would talk about his daughter, not pretend she doesn’t exist. I remember Angel saying the emerald king’s theft ripped the Bragg family apart.
Did Mr. Bragg’s ex-wife or daughter steal the emerald king?
I glance at my watch and jump up from the computer. Only ten minutes to get to the Skunk Shack! I lose two minutes powering down our ancient family computer, but I make up time by biking super fast to our clubhouse hidden in the woods at Wild Oaks Sanctuary.
Leo’s gyro-board and Becca’s bike are already parked outside the Skunk Shack when I roll up. I prop my bike against the flat stump that we sometimes use as a bench.
“Kelsey, I’m so glad you’re here!” Becca hurries out of the shack. She’s in all black today, leggings under a zebra-striped short skirt and black ankle boots with pink laces to match the pink streak in her black ponytail.
I glance over her shoulder into the shack. “Where’s Leo?”
“Good question.” A strong breeze blows Becca’s striped bandanna in her face. Pushing it back, she frowns. “He’s hiding.”
“Hiding?” I peer into the thicket of trees surrounding us.
“Actually he’s waiting for us to hide so he can find us. It’s a spy game, like when you had me piece together a ripped letter and Leo escaped from locked handcuffs. He lef
t these behind with a note.” Becca opens her palm to reveal two of Leo’s latest inventions: colorless sticky bubbles.
The spy game is on!
1. Attach a sticky GPF to your clothes.
2. Hide in the woods.
I will find you.
“But he won’t find us,” Becca says mischievously. “We’ll fool him by hiding together—in a place he’ll never find.”
I love her evil grin. Leo thinks he’s so smart but not this time.
I pick up one of the GPFs and look for a pin or something to stick it to my clothes. I don’t see anything but when I hold it, there’s a tingly sensation like electric energy and I drop it…only it never hits the ground. The sticky ball lands on my leg and sticks there like an unseen force is holding it.
“Coolness,” Becca says, her GPF stuck to her bandanna.
She leads me away from the Skunk Shack. We don’t go far, just over a stream and around some wild berry bushes along a steep rocky hill.
“Where to now?” I look around for an easy path through the prickly brush and towering rock formation.
She points to the rock.
“No way,” I protest. “Even if we can climb up there, we’ll be easy to spot, and Leo will find us.”
She slides around the rock, feeling along a crevice with her hand, pushing aside berry vines and then suddenly she’s not there. I blink, moving down along the rock the way she went, careful of the thorny vines—until an arm reaches out and Becca grabs me. Only then do I see that behind the vines is a narrow space in the rock that widens into a brilliant hiding place.
Becca is right—Leo will never find us.
So we follow Part 2 of his instructions and wait.
“What do you think this GPF does?” Becca whispers.
“No clue,” I whisper back, unable to see Becca in the dark space, but I can smell her lemony shampoo. “It’s doesn’t light up or have any wires.”
“It’s not a camera or listening device,” she says.
“It’s sticky like Velcro.” I reach down to touch the spongy bubble on my leg.
“It must do something interesting like the drones,” Becca guesses. “Leo comes up with amazing inventions. He’s the smartest guy I know.”
“So you like him?” My whispered words linger like an echo.
“Well, sure.” She sounds surprised. “Don’t you?”
“Of course.”
“Sometimes you argue with him,” she points out.
“Only when he’s got a know-it-all attitude.”
“But he does know a lot,” Becca says.
“That doesn’t make it less annoying.” I sigh into the darkness. “He’s smart with facts but clueless with feelings—even his own. He wanted to tell me something the other day but then he changed his mind. And lately I’ve noticed…” I falter, my cheeks warming. “I mean, he likes you a lot.”
“Good,” she whispers. “I like him a lot too.”
“You do? But I thought you liked Trevor.”
“Like isn’t the same as like.”
The funny thing is, I know what Becca means.
“When I’m near Trevor my heart gets all jumpy,” she adds with a giggle. “And I wonder if he likes me too. But that’s not the same way I like you and Leo. Club mates are the best kind of friends.”
“The very best,” I say and wonder if Becca can tell I’m smiling even though we can’t see each other.
“Helping animals in the CCSC makes me feel good.” She reaches out to squeeze my hand. “Better than an A on a test or getting a gift. It’s like I’m giving a gift of myself and what we’re doing really matters.”
I think of our three kittens, Zed the zorse, the Aldabra tortoise, and all the lost animals we’ve reunited with their owners. “The CCSC matters,” I agree.
“And we have so much fun finding lost pets, having club meetings, and doing things like spy games—even when we’re squished inside a rock.” Becca giggles. “It’s never boring around you and Leo.”
“I feel that way, but I’m never sure what he’s thinking,” I add more seriously. “Leo has a different way of looking at things. And lately he’s been acting more awkward than usual. I think he may…well…that he may like one of us more than a friend.”
“Oh!” Becca gasps. “Now I understand!”
“Good.” I sigh with relief. “I wasn’t sure how to tell you.”
“You can tell me anything, Kelsey.”
“I know…it’s just that this isn’t easy to talk about…I mean I worry that things will get weird between us.”
“No worries,” she assures me. “Nothing you can say will change our friendship. I think it’s sweet that Leo has a crush on you.”
“Me?” I choke out.
“I’m not surprised. You’re both smart and interested in scientific stuff,” she goes on. “And I’ve seen the way you look at him when you think no one’s looking.”
“But I don’t! That’s not what I—” I’m interrupted by footsteps stomping toward us.
The bushes concealing us are shoved aside.
Leo grins at us triumphantly. “I found you!”
- Chapter 17 -
Cash, Clues, and Crushes
“The Global Positioning Finders led me right to you,” Leo explains as we sit around the lopsided table in the Skunk Shack. We’re sipping juice pouches and snacking on vegetable chips. Becca keeps giving me sideways grins, and I noticed that she managed to push Leo’s chair and my chair closer together.
But I’m not the one he has a crush on! I want to tell her.
“Leo, you were brilliant.” Becca sips her juice and doesn’t seem to notice how her praise makes Leo blush.
“Thanks,” he says with a goofy smile. Poor guy has it bad for her, I think. But what will happen when he finds out he’s only in her friend zone?
“You found us so quickly,” Becca says in awe.
“The GPFs transmit multiple locations simultaneously.” He bounces several sticky balls in his hand and they clump together. “They emit identifying signals to my tablet.”
His tablet shows a map of Sun Flower and he taps the northeast corner where we’re located. Two dots, one pink and the other purple, blink brightly. “Becca is pink for the streak in her hair,” Leo explains. “And you’re purple, Kelsey.”
I nod, wondering if he knows purple is my favorite color.
“The GPF is similar to GPS systems but instead of relaying information from a satellite, the balls feed locations to my tablet,” Leo continues. “So when you hid in that cave—very clever hiding place, by the way—the map marked your locations even though I couldn’t see you.”
I pluck the GPF from my jeans. “Do they only stick to clothes?”
“Clothes and hair,” Leo says.
“What about fur?” Becca looks with sharp interest at Leo. When he nods, she grins. “Coolness! They can help us find lost pets.”
“Exactly!” Leo gives Becca a look so full of admiration that my heart aches. She doesn’t like you that way, I want to warn him.
“Cool invention, Leo,” is all I say.
“But they’re not perfected and need adjustments.” He sighs. “The energy that makes GPFs stick is similar to static energy.”
“Like when you rub a balloon against your hair and stick it to a wall?” Becca guesses.
“Close enough.” Leo lifts up one. “According to my calculations, they last 1.13 hours, then they drop like dead bugs. Our experiment has given me data to improve this model. Thanks for being my trial subjects.” Leo tucks them into a small box then lifts the pencil he uses as a gavel and taps it on the table. “I make a motion that we proceed with our CCSC meeting.”
After the motion is passed and seconded, Leo reads the treasurer’s report. Then he turns to me. “Kelsey, I make a motion that you take the floor.” That means it’s my turn to talk.
My wobbly chair scrapes against the wood floorboards as I lean forward to describe following Major and finding his unconsc
ious owner.
“You had lots of excitement after we left you.” Becca sips her juice.
“There’s more,” I add with a dramatic wave of my arms. “This morning Dad called me with an herb emergency so I had to rush over to the castle. On the way back, I saw Bandit running with Angel’s halo headband in her mouth. When I chased her, I tripped and cut my knee. Sergei bandaged it for me.” I gesture toward my leg.
Leo follows my gaze, frowning. “Shouldn’t you have gone to a doctor?”
“It wasn’t bad, just a little blood.” I shrug. “Sergei took me to his house and took care of me. I thought he hated people but he was kind to me, like he is to animals. But he’s still strange and suspicious.” I tell them about the pawn receipt.
“Pawning something isn’t a crime,” Leo scoffs.
“What did he pawn?” Becca asks.
“I don’t know. It wasn’t the whole ticket, just a strip like a receipt.”
Leo taps his pencil on the table, his expression thoughtful. “According to my calculations, on the average a pawned item pays 50 percent of its value. So Sergei pawned something worth over $2,000.”
Becca sets down her juice so hard it sloshes a few drops on the table. “Like a missing emerald chess piece?”
“That’s what I thought at first.” My lopsided chair squeaks as I shift toward Becca. “But Angel said Mr. Bragg lost his family because of the theft—and Sergei isn’t part of his family. I checked online and found out that Mr. Bragg is divorced, and his ex-wife, Jasmine, kept custody of their daughter, Deidra. But Mr. Bragg pretends they don’t exist. So I think Deidra stole the chess piece—that’s why her father didn’t report the theft,” I say with the satisfaction of solving a puzzle.
“Do you know when the chess piece was stolen?” Leo asks.
“About three months ago,” I say.
“I’ll bet it was Deidra’s mother who took it.” Becca purses her frosted plum lips. “Never underestimate the fury of an ex-wife. Divorces can get really nasty. When Dad told Mom he was leaving her, she dyed all his underwear pink.”
“Pink?” I giggle but then think of the missing emerald king and grow serious. “It’s all so puzzling. If King Bragg knows who took the chess piece, why not take it back?”
The Secret of the Shadow Bandit Page 10