Kristy and the Cat Burglar

by Ann M. Martin

  “Deal,” I said, shaking his hand. It was hard not to feel a little thrill of excitement. There was no question about it. I had stumbled into a first-class mystery. And with any luck, the BSC would be able to help solve it.

  “So, how did it go?” Mary Anne stood up to greet me as I walked back into the waiting room from Sergeant Johnson’s office.

  “Are you a suspect?” asked Claudia, grinning.

  I was glad to see my friends. I wanted to tell them everything Sergeant Johnson had said about the Cat Burglar, before I forgot any of it. But just as I was about to answer, I was interrupted.

  “Can’t a guy watch birds in peace?”

  It was Cary Retlin. He and his dad emerged from one of the questioning rooms, where, I figured, Cary had just had his interview with Sergeant Winters and Officer Hopkins, and walked down the hall toward us. His dad left, saying he had to go back to work. But Cary joined us, complaining loudly. “I mean, come on, it’s not as if I stole any diamonds. What would I do with diamonds?”

  “I’m sure they don’t really consider you a suspect,” Mary Anne said soothingly.

  “Oh, no?” asked Cary, arching an eyebrow. “Then why did I have to answer thirty gazillion questions about where, when, and why I was in the woods that day? Don’t they have anything better to do than bother me?” He looked irritated. “I mean, they have more information than they’re letting on. They should leave me alone and focus on what’s really going on.”

  “What do you mean?” I asked. I had the strangest feeling that Cary knew something I didn’t know.

  “Oh, nothing,” he said, waving a hand in disgust. “I’m tired of wasting my time here. Let’s go.” He turned on his heel and left the building.

  I looked at Mary Anne and Claudia. We all shrugged. Then we followed Cary.

  He was waiting for us on the sidewalk.

  “So, want to head over there?” he asked.

  “Where?” I was confused.

  “To the Golem place,” he said, as if it were obvious. “The scene of the crime.”

  “But —”

  “But what? Are you scared?”

  “No!” I cried.

  “Kristy’s never scared,” Mary Anne said.

  “And we’re not either,” said Claudia.

  “It’s just that, in this case,” I began, trying to figure out what to say, “maybe we should leave things up to the police. Until they’re a little further along in their investigation, that is.” It wasn’t that I didn’t want to solve the mystery. I just wasn’t so eager to go back to that spooky house. Especially when I still didn’t know what that gunshot had been about. It didn’t seem safe. I thought it might make more sense to do some other, less dangerous investigating first. “I thought maybe I’d spend some time at the library today,” I said. “You know, reading up on the Cat Burglar and stuff.”

  Cary gave me an exasperated look. “Okay, first of all — bor-ing. Why go to the library when you could be checking out a cool mansion? And second — leaving this one up to the police might not be the wisest thing.”

  “Why do you say that?” I asked.

  But he brushed my question aside. “Come on, are you in or are you in?”

  “We’re in,” said Claudia, stepping forward. Mary Anne, I noticed, did not step forward with her. In fact, Mary Anne just stood there, looking nervous. I didn’t say anything. “Come on,” Claudia urged us. “I haven’t even had the chance to see this place yet. Let’s go take a little peek. What’s the harm?”

  “That’s the spirit,” said Cary. He took her arm and walked off down the sidewalk, toward the rack where we’d left our bikes. Once again, Mary Anne and I looked at each other, shrugged, and fell into step behind Cary.

  We hopped on our bikes, fastened our helmets, and rode off down the street. Toward trouble? I didn’t know. But I had butterflies in my stomach, and they seemed to multiply as we drew closer to the Golem mansion. By the time we were riding down the quiet, tree-lined private road, the butterflies were fluttering like mad. In fact, I was so preoccupied with my own nerves that I almost didn’t hear Cary’s warning call of “Car!” Still, I was able to swerve out of the way in time to let the car — a police cruiser — go by. It seemed to be coming from the Golem mansion.

  “Was that Sergeant Winters?” I asked Claudia after the car had passed.

  She shrugged. “I don’t know the guy,” she said. “But from your description, it sure looked like him.”

  He must have raced out there after his interview with Cary. I wondered why. But soon I forgot about him, because we were turning into the driveway of the mansion, passing the huge stone gate.

  We stopped for a moment by the entrance while I pointed out the mailbox to Claudia and Mary Anne. “See? There’s the cat symbol,” I said.

  Claudia traced it with her finger. “A stencil. It looks as if he used one of those permanent markers.” I could tell she thought it was cool too.

  “Is it always red?” Mary Anne wanted to know.

  I shrugged. “I don’t know. I think so. Sergeant Johnson seemed to think it was.”

  Cary raised that eyebrow. “I think we need to forget everything the police told us and concentrate on finding our own clues,” he said. “Come on, let’s go check the place out.”

  We stowed our bikes behind the gatehouse, and Cary led us down the drive, right to the mansion. He approached one of the oversize, old-fashioned windows, pushed back some ivy that was hanging over it, and peered in.

  “The drawing room,” he said. “Can you believe this place has a drawing room? Plus two living rooms, a parlor, a huge kitchen, a gym and spa — with sauna — and about ten bedrooms, all upstairs.” He paused, thinking. “It’s weird. I seem to remember seeing a light on in one of them the day of the burglary.”

  How did Cary know so much about the house? Could he have figured all of that out just by peeking into the windows? I narrowed my eyes and stared at him. Was it possible that he —? Then I shook my head. No way was Cary the Cat Burglar. As he’d said, what would a kid his age do with a bunch of diamonds?

  I stepped up to look into the window. The room inside looked kind of eerie. All the furniture was covered with white cloths. A white cloth even hung over what I guessed was a huge painting above the cavernous fireplace. And on either side of the painting white cloths covered what had to be — I shuddered a little — animal heads, judging by the shape. “Ew,” I said.

  Cary heard me. “I think he’s into big game hunting,” he said. “Gross, huh?”

  I nodded. We moved to another window, which Claudia and Mary Anne were already peering into.

  “It’s the gym,” said Claudia.

  “Or else a torture room,” said Mary Anne. Her eyes were big and round when she looked back at me.

  I had to check this out for myself. Sure enough, the room looked like a gym, sort of. I couldn’t identify all the equipment. Some of it looked familiar, but some of it was downright bizarre. One device looked as if it were meant for stretching you out while hanging you from your ankles. Um, no thanks.

  “So, let’s look for bullet casings,” said Cary, turning from the window.

  “What?” asked Mary Anne.

  “Kristy heard a gunshot, right?” asked Cary. “Or at least she thought she did. If it was a gun, there ought to be a bullet casing around. That’s what’s left after a gun goes off.”

  Cary had a point. If we could find some physical evidence, I’d know for sure that I’d heard a gunshot. We spread out to look, walking around the house.

  We poked through the garden beds, searched in the ivy that sprawled all over the house. We looked over the front steps (they were grand, carved out of marble) and checked the side entrance (not so grand — originally it must have been meant for servants). Finally, I checked out the back porch while Cary did a search of the garage and Mary Anne and Claudia continued around the house.

  That’s when I saw it. A flash of gold. “Hey!” I yelled as I bent to take a closer
look. “Check out what I found!” Cary came running, with Mary Anne and Claudia right behind him. “Anybody have a tissue?” I asked. Mary Anne gave me a strange look, but rummaged around in her backpack until she found one. She handed it over and I used it to pick up the object. “Don’t want to disturb any fingerprints,” I explained. I showed Cary the item I’d found: a small, hollow, brass cylinder with a flat base.

  “Good going,” Cary said, thumping me on the back. “It’s a bullet casing, all right.”

  I was glad he knew. I hadn’t been sure.

  “I wonder if there’s a bullet hole that goes with this,” Cary mused. He looked around.

  “Is that one?” asked Mary Anne, pointing to a spot on the porch door.

  “You bet,” said Cary, reaching up to finger it. It was a perfect little hole, like the kind a drill makes.

  “Wow,” breathed Claudia.

  “And look what I found,” said Mary Anne. She held up a red object. She’d used another tissue to pick it up by the tip.

  “A Magic Marker!” Cary exclaimed. “Yes!” He pumped a fist in the air. “That must be the one he used to leave his mark on the mailbox. This is awesome. We’re finding clues right and left.”

  I had to admit it was pretty exciting, though for a second I wondered why the police hadn’t found those things if they’d done such a thorough search. Anyway, we hunted for another half hour or so and found nothing more.

  “I should head home soon,” said Claudia finally.

  “Me too,” agreed Mary Anne.

  I was ready to give up for the day myself. But Cary was still peering into windows. “Oh, let’s just take one more look,” I said. It was impossible to resist. Let this be a warning: Once you start snooping, it can be hard to stop.

  I headed for a window I hadn’t checked before and leaned into it, shading my eyes with my hands in order to get a good look inside.

  “AAAUGHHH!” I cried, jumping away from the window.

  “What is it?” asked Mary Anne, rushing to me.

  I was too scared to speak. Why?

  Because somebody was in that room. And he was staring right back at me.

  “Kristy! Are you okay?” Claudia ran to me too. Cary was right behind her.

  I still couldn’t speak. Instead, I just pointed toward the window. Claudia took one look and her face went white. “Oh. My. Lord,” she said.

  Mary Anne had seen the face too. She gripped my hand. “What should we do?” she whispered in a tense voice. “Do you think we should run for it?”

  I sensed that she was about to panic. I could hardly blame her. But, for the moment, running was out of the question. I was paralyzed.

  Just then, Cary did something that convinced me once and for all that he is completely and totally nuts. He looked up at the window and with a big grin on his face, waved at the person staring back at us.

  “Cary!” I hissed. “What are you —”

  “Oh my lord,” Claudia breathed again. She pointed to the window. The person — I could now see that it was a man with a blond mustache — was grinning and waving back.

  This was too weird.

  Then the person pointed toward the back door in an unmistakable gesture that meant he’d meet us there. I looked at Cary. If he was scared, he didn’t show it. In fact, he was still grinning. And without a pause, he headed for the back door.

  “Welcome, welcome,” said the man, who met us on the porch steps. “So nice to see some local kids around. You are local, aren’t you? I’m afraid I haven’t met many of my neighbors, since I’m hardly ever here. You’ve come right on time — I just got back from France an hour ago.”

  He was acting as if he were the owner of the house. Could it be true? Could this man be Reinhart Golem?

  “Allow me to introduce myself,” he said just then, and bowed slightly. “I’m Reinhart Golem,” he said. “And this is my home.”

  There was something very, very strange about Reinhart Golem. First of all, he didn’t seem at all annoyed to find a bunch of kids snooping around his house. Second, even though I was staring at him, I found it hard to figure out the most basic things about him — for example, how old he was. At first I thought he was in his twenties. Then, when he turned his face a certain way, I could have sworn he looked much older, closer to Watson’s age. And again, when he looked straight at me, for just an instant he could have been a teenager. It was eerie.

  What did he look like? Well, he was tall and slim, and he had wavy, dark blond hair, not too long, but not too short either. His eyes were green, or were they gray? I couldn’t be sure. They seemed to change all the time. He was dressed in what looked like very expensive clothes. Stacey could probably have told you which Italian designer had created his perfectly tailored shirt and pants, both of which were black. Golem looked familiar somehow, but I couldn’t put my finger on why. Maybe he reminded me of some old-time movie star.

  “Please, have a seat,” he said, gesturing around the porch. He had nicer furniture out there than most people have in their living rooms: wicker chairs with plump cushions, a huge couch that two people could have slept on comfortably, a hammock just made for lazy afternoon naps.

  I sat on the couch, and Mary Anne sat down beside me. Cary and Claudia each chose chairs. Reinhart Golem didn’t sit. Instead, he leaned against the wall or strolled around with his hands in his pockets as we talked. It was as if sitting still didn’t suit him, as if he needed to be on the move all the time.

  He asked us our names, and we told him. Then he asked what we were doing there at his house. He didn’t seem mad — just curious. Something about the way he asked made me feel it was fine to be honest with him. I looked around at the others and I could see that they felt the same way.

  “We were investigating,” I said.

  He cocked his head.

  “You know, the burglary,” I went on. “We were just looking around for clues.”

  “And did you find any?” he asked with a little smile.

  “As a matter of fact, we did,” I said. I dug into my pocket and pulled out the tissue-wrapped bullet casing. “I found this. Right outside, on the stairs. And there’s a bullet hole too.” Then Mary Anne showed him the Magic Marker she’d found.

  “Fascinating,” said Golem. He walked over to me and examined the casing for a moment. “We’ll have to call Sergeant Winters immediately,” he said. “He was here only recently, asking some questions. No doubt he’ll want to come back and take a look at this. Excuse me, will you?” he asked. Then he glided off into the house, and I wondered why Sergeant Winters had been the one to question Golem. Golem came back a few moments later and said the police were on their way.

  “While we wait, why don’t you tell me a little more about your investigation. Is this the first time you’ve tried your hand at detective work?”

  “Oh, no,” said Mary Anne. Then she blushed and fell silent. I could tell she felt too shy to go on, so I jumped in.

  “We belong to a club,” I explained. “At least, the three of us do,” I said, pointing to myself, Claudia, and Mary Anne. “It’s a baby-sitting club, but we’ve been doing detective work for a long time. We’ve helped solve some major cases here in Stoneybrook, and in other places too.”

  Golem looked impressed. And intrigued. “What sort of criminals have you caught?” he asked.

  “Oh, you know,” I said, trying to sound casual. “Counterfeiters, dognappers, jewel thieves —”

  “Jewel thieves?” asked Golem.

  “Uh-huh,” said Claudia.

  I glanced at Cary. He was looking impressed. I bet he didn’t know the BSC did more than take care of kids.

  Golem spoke again. “Perhaps you could help me,” he said slowly. “As you may know, some valuable diamonds were stolen from a vault in this house during the break-in.”

  So it was true. Suddenly, my heart was beating a little faster. The diamonds really were missing. And their owner wanted our help! It was so cool that he took us seriously. Weird, too
, in a way. I mean, why was he talking to us so freely? After all, we’re just a bunch of kids. Most adults would expect the police to handle a crime like this. But I didn’t care. I was too interested in the mystery.

  “Do you have any idea who took them?” I asked. “Could it have been Ben Birch?” In my eagerness, I jumped right in and spoke without thinking.

  Golem gave me a sharp look. His face suddenly looked pale. “Ben Birch?” he asked. “How — and what — do you know about Ben Birch?”

  Oops. I’d said something that hadn’t pleased him. “I, um, I don’t know,” I said. “I guess it was just a name I heard. I don’t know anything about him.”

  “Mr. Birch is a former business associate of mine,” said Golem. “I bought him out years ago, long before my business prospered. He may not be happy about that. He may even carry a small grudge. But if you think that he would stoop to robbing my home, well, that is a most unlikely scenario.”

  “Okay,” I said in a small voice. I was embarrassed but determined not to let my misstep ruin our chances of helping out with the investigation.

  Mary Anne sensed my discomfort. “Do you have any other ideas about suspects?” she asked Golem.

  I shot her a grateful look.

  “I suppose my security guard would have to be considered a suspect,” he said. “Now that I think about it, he may not be as loyal to me as I would have hoped. Just because someone wears a uniform doesn’t mean he’s trustworthy. And then there’s this Cat Burglar character, of course.” Just then, we heard a car in the drive. “That must be Sergeant Winters,” he said.