The Secret of the Shadow Bandit

by Singleton, Linda Joy

  “Maybe it was lost or broken,” Becca suggests.

  “We may never know,” Leo declares. “This is an unsolvable mystery.”

  “But I just solved it,” I argue, annoyed.

  “Guesses are not facts.” Leo takes a big gulp of juice, squeezes his empty pouch, and tosses it in the garbage. “There’s no point in investigating a theft when the victim is protecting the thief and won’t report the crime.”

  I sigh because he’s right. We don’t know whodun-it but Mr. Bragg does and pretends it never happened. The emerald king could be lost or broken.

  “Fortunately our other mystery is very solvable,” Leo adds cheerfully. “I have new information on one of the ARC kids.”

  “Gavin or RJ?” I ask.

  “Gavin.” Leo lifts his chin proudly. “The jogger gave us enough information that I was able to track down his father, Mikos Peay, and find their current address.”

  “Brilliant, Leo!” Becca high-fives him.

  “Let’s go now!” I jump up from the table, ready to hop on my bike.

  But Leo is shaking his head. “It’s too far to bike. Mr. Peay and his sons moved in with his parents in Truckee.”

  I groan. Truckee is up in the mountains, close to the Nevada border.

  “I also located their phone number,” Leo adds then turns to Becca. “As our social operative, you can make the call.”

  “I can do better than that.” Becca’s black eyes shine. “Tomorrow Mom and I are going to visit Zed in Nevada—and Truckee is on the way. I’ll return the money to Gavin in person.”

  - Chapter 18 -

  Dog-Gone Lucky Day

  As we leave the Skunk Shack, I think of all the questions to ask Gavin. Did he, Zee Zee, and RJ build the tree house? Or did they find it? Why did they leave the tree house so abruptly? And why didn’t they return for their cash, papers, and Bandit, especially?

  I want to ask these questions, but there’s one problem. Becca didn’t invite me to go with her to Nevada.

  And inviting myself would be awkward.

  Leo powers up his gyro-board while Becca and I ride our bikes into Sun Flower. At least once a week we ride around looking for lost pets. My animal control officer mom gives us lost-pet flyers every week. Today there are four missing dogs, one lost cat, and a parrot on the loose.

  Becca and I cover the neighborhoods around downtown while Leo partners up with Frankie to search the neighborhoods nearby. Frankie is usually too busy as the drama club’s stage designer to go on lost pet rides, but there’s no drama club during spring break. Leo snaps photos of the missing pet flyers then rides off to meet with Frankie. Becca and I study each flyer and tuck them in the compartment on my bike.

  We’ve only been riding a few blocks when we spot a collie on his own sniffing a fire hydrant. He matches the description on one of the flyers for Pal, a two-year-old Collie-mix that escaped when a backyard gate was left open. He’s been missing since Saturday.

  Catching a lost dog seems like it might be easy, but not even. We’ve developed a five-strategy plan:

  Call out the animal’s name in a gentle but firm voice.

  Determine if the animal is friendly or hostile.

  If friendly, offer it a treat and clip on the leash.

  If hostile, report the location and wait for official help (Mom).

  Always proceed with caution and kindness.

  Pal hikes his leg on the hydrant, unaware that Becca and I are closing in on him. The capture turns out to be easy-peasy. I barely call out “Pal” before the dog gallops toward me, wagging his tail. He almost knocks me down as he jumps into my arms. Becca attaches a leash as I offer a bacon treat, which Pal gulps down in one big swallow.

  Becca pulls out her cell and ten minutes later the owner drives up. The beefy and balding guy is so happy to see his dog that he sobs big sloppy tears, hugging Pal like he’ll never let go. I can’t stop smiling. Reuniting people with their lost pets is the best feeling ever.

  Usually we ride for hours before finding a lost pet, but today must be our lucky day. Minutes later, we spot the missing cat sniffing around a trash can at Galena Park. Capturing a cat is never easy. So instead of going after the cat, Becca contacts the number on the flyer and reports our location. We keep an eye on the cat, ready to split up and follow if needed, but the cat is still prowling around the trash can when her owner arrives.

  Becca texts to update Leo and Frankie and finds out they returned the missing parrot. Three pets in one afternoon!

  And the day just gets better.

  As Becca gets ready to ride home, she gets a text from her mom.

  “Finally!” Becca exclaims with a squeal. “Mom said yes!”

  “Yes to what?” I clasp my handlebars, balancing on the sidewalk.

  “You’re going with us tomorrow,” she says with a shrug like I should have guessed this.

  “To visit Zed?” The cars zooming by are a blur as I stare at Becca incredulously. “You want me to go with you?”

  “Of course! I couldn’t invite you without checking with Mom. I’ve been waiting hours for her reply. She said yes and already cleared it with your mom. Leo’s invited too.” Becca pauses to send a text and within seconds her phone dings with a reply. “Leo says can’t go. He’s spending the day with his dad.”

  That night, I go to bed early because I can’t wait to leave in the morning. My clothes are set out for the road trip: black jeans with zippered pockets, a purple shirt with a unicorn on the front pocket, and my winter jacket because Becca warned me it can drop to below freezing at night in Truckee if it snows.

  I wake up before my alarm goes off the next morning. I get dressed quickly then head for the tree house to get the pouch with the money.

  But as I lift the trapdoor, I stare in surprise.

  The ferret is back!

  Curled on a torn couch pillow, she looks little and sweet. Her whiskers twitch and she suddenly wakes up. Her black eyes stare at me. In a leap, she’s off the couch and scampering across the floor. She springs on top of the cooler and escapes through the hole.

  “Drats,” I mutter. I wish she’d give me a chance to show her I’m a friend.

  I cross over to the cooler and take out the plastic pouch. The bundled money and papers are inside just the way I found them.

  “Bandit, I’m going to see Gavin,” I call out on the chance the ferret is close enough to hear me. “Do you remember Gavin, Zee Zee, and RJ? I know they took care of you so you must miss them.”

  No answer of course.

  It’s hard to believe the apple-sized wall hole is big enough for my kitten and a ferret to squeeze through. Bandit could be on the other side of the hole, waiting for me to leave so she can go back to snoozing on the couch.

  My gaze drops to Bandit’s nest by the hole. It’s messier than the last time I saw it. I wish Becca would have let me sweep it away. I pucker my nose at the musty odor. It’s disgusting with bits of hair, paper scraps, and something purple poking from the top of the pile.

  I bend down to take a closer look.

  OMG! How did this get here?

  I pick up my sister’s shoe.

  - Chapter 19 -

  Road Trip

  As I dangle the filthy shoe by its heel, my stomach twists. There’s no mistaking the purple bow and satin ankle sash. Kiana bought these shoes for her upcoming prom to match her purple sequin gown. I remember overhearing my sisters arguing about the missing shoe, calling each other hateful things and swearing they’d never speak to each other again. They both accused the other of losing the shoe. They were wrong.

  Bandit is the shoe thief.

  But if I tell them a ferret did it, will they believe me? Or will they accuse me of lying to protect my kitten? If they tell Dad, he’ll say Honey is too destructive to live with us. I’ll lose my kitten—unless I secretly return the shoe.

  Clasping the ARC plastic pouch and purple shoe, I climb down the trunk ladder. I hope my sisters are still asleep so I can sneak in
to Kiana’s room.

  When I sniff the shoe, though, I realize I have a big problem. It smells like musky ferret. Taking a closer look, I see tiny bite marks on the heel.

  I take a detour to the bathroom, where I find Kiana’s makeup case. I use an emery board to file down the tiny bite marks until they blend in with the wood and wipe dirt from the sparkly fabric with a damp washrag. The shoe looks better…but that smell. Pee-yew!

  Ah! I know just the thing.

  I search the bathroom cupboard until I find Kenya’s cosmetic case. I take out her favorite perfume, Air Kisses, a fragrance so flowery that I’d rather smell wet animal fur. Holding the shoe with one hand, I squirt perfume with the other. A shower of flowery stink gags me. But it’s potent enough to mask the smell of ferret.

  Now if I can just return the shoe without getting caught.

  I tiptoe down the hall and reach for the door. I turn the knob so quietly that the only sound I hear is my thumping heart. Peeking into the room, I see the usual mess of discarded clothes sprawled across the floor. On one side of the room is my sister’s bed with a sister-sized lump under the blankets.

  Kiana makes a whiny sound as she turns onto her side and buries her face into her pillow. Holding my breath, I watch the subtle rise and fall of her blanket. All I have to do is cross the room to the closet and return the shoe so my sister won’t know it was carried in a ferret’s mouth to a tree house nest.

  Okay, I tell myself. On the count of three, I’ll go.

  One, two…

  “Kelsey?” Kiana sits up in her bed and stares at me. “What are you doing?”

  Covertly, I shove the shoe behind my back.

  “Um…” I think fast. “Since Dad’s working in the castle, we haven’t had a hot breakfast in a while, so I’m making corn-flake French toast and wondered if you wanted any. Sorry to wake you.”

  “Breakfast is worth waking up for.” Kiana rubs her eyes.

  Carefully concealing the shoe behind my back, I shut the door and hurry to my room. I hide the shoe far back in my closet. But even with the door shut I can smell the Air Kisses perfume.

  I’ll have to wait to return the shoe, I think as I head downstairs to the kitchen. I’ll make a great breakfast and wait till my sister is eating, then slip into Kiana’s room to return the shoe.

  Pleased with this plan, I gather cornflakes, eggs, cinnamon, milk, and bread. By the time I’m sprinkling cornflakes on battered bread, my sisters and my mom and my brother have joined me. While Kyle brews coffee, Mom tells stories about work, like how she chased a potbellied pig in a grocery store the other day. My sisters finish each other’s sentences as they describe twin brothers that just started going to their school. They aren’t glaring or ignoring each other, so they must have called a truce on the shoe fight. Kenya is showing a photo of the brothers when I hear a car honk from outside.

  Becca and her mother are here!

  I grab my jacket and hurry outside.

  It’s not until we’re climbing into the Sierras that I realize I never returned the purple shoe.

  Brilliant green shades of pine and fir trees border the highway, thickening as we climb toward snowy-capped mountains. It’s always fun hanging out with Becca, and her mom is cool too. They look a lot alike, both with curly black hair and full lips and shining dark eyes. They used to argue a lot because they’re too much alike. But lately Mrs. Morales is really chill and smiles a lot. I have a suspicion it’s because of her friendship with Sheriff Fischer.

  “Almost to Truckee,” Mrs. Morales says, glancing at me in the rearview mirror. “Becca, do you have the directions to your friend’s house?”

  “Already on GPS.” Becca taps the map on her phone. She whispers to me, “Mom doesn’t know about our tree house, just that we’re returning papers to a friend.”

  “He’ll be our friend fast when he sees the money,” I tease.

  “I hope so. He may not be happy to see anyone from Sun Flower.” I know from Becca’s somber expression that she’s remembering that Gavin moved away after his mother went to jail.

  Mrs. Morales takes the Truckee exit and Becca directs her through the snow-sprinkled touristy town. We cross train tracks then turn down a narrow road. “That’s the house,” Becca points out.

  I follow her gaze to a white-paneled peaked-roof house with a detached garage and a lawn of rocks and cacti. Smoke puffs from the chimney, reminding us how much colder it is in the mountains than in the valley. I’m glad I brought a jacket.

  Mrs. Morales waits in the car, leaning back and turning up the volume on a country station.

  “You do the talking,” I say to Becca as we step out of the car. “But don’t mention the money until we’re sure he’s the right Gavin.”

  “Leo is almost never wrong,” she says, “but it doesn’t hurt to be cautious. I won’t mention Gavin’s mother either. It must be hard to have a parent in prison.”

  I nod grimly as we walk to the front door.

  There isn’t a doorbell, so I knock. From inside a bird squawks. Then I hear footsteps. A middle-aged man with thick black hair and a trim mustache and beard opens the door, giving us a puzzled look. “What can I do for you?”

  “We’d like to see Gavin,” Becca says with her sweetest smile.

  “You look younger than Gavin’s usual friends.” He rubs his beard, clearly puzzled why we’re here. “I’m his father and you’re…?”

  “I’m Becca and this is Kelsey,” Becca says cheerfully. “Is Gavin here?”

  “Sure, sure…He could use some friends.” The man’s expression softens. “Gavin’s not inside, though. He’s around back. Just go through that gate.”

  He points to a paved path leading to a backyard where a tall boy with shaggy black hair stomps aluminum cans. He’s older than us but younger than my brother, probably fifteen or sixteen. He’s bundled in a heavy jacket, leather gloves, and snow boots. He tosses a squashed can into a box then lifts his foot and stomps a can.

  “Gavin?” Becca calls out just as he lifts his leg to stomp another can.

  He whirls to face us, narrowing his blue eyes like an animal that’s been hurt and is wary of humans. “Who are you?” he demands.

  Becca ignores his hostile tone and smiles sweetly. “I’m Becca and this is Kelsey.”

  “So?” He frowns. “I don’t know you.”

  “We know about you and have something of yours.” I gesture to my tote bag.

  “That’s not my bag. Is this some kind of trick?” He stomps down on a diet cola can. “If you weren’t so young, I’d think you were more stupid reporters.”

  I quickly realize he probably means his family left Sun Flower to get away from the drama of his mother’s arrest. To gain his trust, I reach in the bag and show him the plastic pouch.

  “Where’d you get those?” He eyes us suspiciously.

  “In a cooler.”

  Gavin’s foot pauses mid-air over a can. “You’ve been in the tree house?”

  “My family just moved into the cottage and I found the tree house.”

  “It was a mess!” Becca adds, puckering her nose.

  “Animals got in and trashed it,” I add. “When we cleaned it, we found these.”

  I take out the ARC papers and the bundle of cash. Gavin stands still as a wooden post, staring at my hand. Is he in shock?

  “The notes, coded message, and money are all there,” I assure him quickly.

  “Don’t want it.” He slams his foot down on the can.

  “But it belongs to you and your club mates,” I say.

  “I’m done with fake friends.” He tosses the flattened can into a box. “Zee Zee was my girl and RJ was like my brother. But when things got rough they bailed on me.” He stomps a cherry cola can, flecks of red soda splashing onto his snow boot. “You heard about my mother, didn’t you?”

  Becca hesitates then nods. “It must be hard for you.”

  He clenches his jaw. “I thought they’d stick by me…but guess not.” His tone is
tough but his expression is wounded.

  Bad enough his mother was arrested, but to also lose his friends must have been brutal. I’m afraid he’ll stop talking to us, so I switch the topic. “What does ARC stand for? We guessed Animal Rescue Club?”

  “Not Rescue.” Gavin frowns. “Recovery.”

  “Animal Recovery Club,” Becca says with an approving nod. “That’s cool you took care of sick and injured animals. We have a club to help animals too.”

  “Good luck with that.” He snorts then stomps another can. “ARC is over, and I’ve moved on. You should too.”

  “Don’t you want to at least see the coded message?” I ask, gesturing to the papers inside the pouch.

  “RJ was the one who liked solving them. Go ahead and figure it out yourself.”

  “Actually, I already did. It says: ‘Beware the little thief.’”

  “No big mystery. Bandit was always stealing pens and stuff.” Gavin turns away and grabs another aluminum can. “I got work to do. Six bags of cans to smash before I can take them to the recycling center.”

  “We’ll help you.” Becca places a can under her shoe.

  “Whatever.” Gavin shrugs.

  “We brought you cash,” I point out as I reach for a can.

  “That’s club money. We earned it together, pet-sitting, walking dogs—once we even walked a potbellied pig.”

  Becca flashes him a smile. “Sounds like a great club.”

  “It was okay,” he admits.

  “How did it start?” I stomp a can but it slides away so I stomp it again.

  “RJ was always nursing animals back to health and sometimes I helped him. When I started going out with Zee Zee, she wanted to help too.”

  “Ours happened by accident.” Becca tilts her head toward me. “Kelsey helped me catch a runaway zorse.”

  “A zorse?” Gavin furrows his brow. “Is that a real thing?”

  “Yeah, he’s a zebra-horse hybrid. I’ll show you.” Becca taps her phone and scrolls through the pictures. “Here’s one of Zed grazing in our pasture. He’s great but he spooks easily and he ran into traffic. Kelsey helped me catch him and then we found three kittens in a dumpster.” Becca continues with the story of how we started the club to care for the kittens.