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Authors: John J. Bonk

Madhattan Mystery (9 page)

BOOK: Madhattan Mystery
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“A real human ear?” Kevin's voice cut through. “No way!”

“Some plastic surgeon from Westchester left it on a Metro North. We never did find out if it wound up on the patient's head or shriveled up like an old potato chip.”

“Ew!” Lexi blurted. “Okay, I think we're done here. I hate to say it, but I think my wallet's gone for good.”

“I hate to say it,” Kim Ling echoed, “but I think you're right.”

“Well, you kids keep on your toes, you hear? Lots of sticky fingers in this town.” Mr. Gibbs knocked all of the wallets back into their plastic bin with a single arm swipe. “Feel free to come back and check anytime, ‘cause we get new ones in on a daily—”

“Excuse us. Mr. Burl T. Gibbs?”

Two men in black were suddenly standing right next to Lexi at the window. They seemed to have appeared out of nowhere. She almost
plotzed
.

“I'm Burl Gibbs. How can I help you gentlemen?”

Holding her breath, Lexi could see the guy nearest her quickly flash an ID card at Mr. Gibbs, then slip it back into his suit jacket—just like they did on
The Streets of New York
.

“FBI,” the man said flatly. “We have a few questions for you, if you have a minute.”

And Lexi could breathe again. Sort of. At least they were on the right side of the law.

“Certainly. Come in, come in.” Mr. Gibbs opened the door next to the service window and let the two men into the room. “We were just finishing up, right, kids?”

“Uh, right,” Kim Ling said when nothing came out of Lexi or Kevin. “Thanks.”

The door closed but the service window was still open. As usual, Lexi and Kevin followed Kim Ling's lead and as nonchalantly as possible plastered themselves against the wall, hanging on every word coming from inside the Lost and Found Department.

FBI: We understand you were friends with a former Grand Central employee. Benjamin Deets? That name ring a bell?

GIBBS: A number of years ago. Not friends exactly—more like workplace buddies. We'd share a cup of coffee every now and again. Nice enough guy. Used to work in security, if memory serves, but we never stayed in touch. Why? Has he been accused of something?

FBI: We're just doing a routine background check, sir. We have reason to believe he may be connected with the Cleopatra jewel heist that's in all the news.

GIBBS: Oh, sure, I'm familiar! My, my, ain't that something? So, are you saying Ben is a suspect?

FBI: That's not what we're saying exactly …

The shutters of the window closed with a bang and Lexi, Kevin, and Kim Ling bolted. They scurried through
the marble halls, faster than if they were running on hot coals. The bustling dining concourse with gobs of people standing in tangled lines slowed them down and somehow they got trapped in a mass of hotdog-munching tourists.

“Benjamin Deets,” Kim Ling mumbled to herself, scribbling away on a small spiral notebook she had fished out of her backpack. “Suspicious Grand Central employee!”


Former
employee,” Kevin said with a raised finger.

“Ah, right. In security, no less, which makes total sense. I mean, if anyone's gonna know the ins and outs of an abandoned train station—”

“It'd be him,” Kevin finished. “I wonder if the jewels are already buried under the tracks.”

“There's only one way to find out—”

“Wait for the story on the news like everyone else,” Lexi said, giving Kim Ling one of those
looks that kill
that people talk about. Didn't she realize Kevin was already getting way too involved for his own good? Lexi grabbed his arm and broke free from the tourist trap and Kim Ling. “Now, let's return to the real world and get our butts back to camp.”

“Speaking of which—” Kim Ling was instantly in her face, rapidly clicking the top of her pen with her thumb. “What do you say we skip it entirely for today and do a little private investigating ourselves instead? I mean, missing one day at Camp Loser is no big deal—and we're already here, so …”

“Ugh,” Lexi groaned, “I knew you'd try and pull something.”

“Nobody has to know.”

And I knew those four words would come back to haunt me!

“Listen, Lexi, we don't know how much the FBI knows at this point, but this much I know—if they
do
know something, security's only gonna get ten times worse, ten times sooner.”

“What?”

“All I'm saying is, we have to act fast, so come on.”

“No,” Lexi said. “No bullying. This is serious stuff. All three of us have to agree on everything from now on or forget it. Right, Kev?”

“Yeah, we definitely should vote.” His cheeks were already a splotchy red and getting redder by the second. “And I—seriously, I'm thinking camp. I mean, even if the kids already left for the park, we could probably still catch up, right? It might be fun.”

“Dude,” Kim Ling said with a disgusted sigh. “They do the same mind-numbingly boring stuff every year.” She squatted down, hands to thighs, and looked him straight in the eye. “Day one is always this moronic nature hunt looking for hummingbirds and chipmunks. I've done it three years in a row and never saw one freakin' chipmunk. A couple of rats, one vicious badger, but not a single chipmunk. Then they separate the groups. The blues go row boating—that's the older kids.”

“And the greens?” Kevin asked, blinking up at her.

“Carousel. So what's your final answer, short stuff? Tick tock.”

Kevin's eyes were jetting back and forth like a ping-pong game on fast-forward. “Uh, I can't think—I have to go to the bathroom. Number one. Wait—yeah, number one.”

“Now?” Lexi squawked. “Who knows where the bathrooms even are in this place? I'm a potential eyewitness to a crime plot—what if someone sees me—”

“Calm down, I'll bring him. Just sit over there and breathe.” Kim Ling pointed to an empty spot at the end of a crowded wooden bench right behind them. “You can decide what you want to do today, okay?”

“Fine.” Lexi parked herself on what looked like a long, giant church pew and removed her backpack. “Just make it fast.”

“And don't look so worried, red. I'm not gonna kidnap your brother and sell him for spare parts. Or. Am. I?” Kim Ling laughed like Count Dracula and swept Kevin away in her invisible cape.

Not remotely funny
. “Wait!” Lexi called out, motioning them back. “My hair stands out like a flare in the dark—I need coverage.” And she snatched Kevin's baseball cap, piled her hair on top of her head, and screwed on the cap as best she could. “Okay, go, go, go.” They barely took off a second time when Lexi called them back again. “Kim, do you by any chance have any lip gloss? What if people think I'm a boy?”

“Whoa.” Kim Ling slowly led Kevin away, shaking her head. “You really
are
a Miss America.”

Lexi watched them disappear around a giant pillar, still jamming telltale curls into the swollen cap.
Miss America. Hmph. Like I'd be caught dead wearing a bikini with high heels
. She noticed her reflection in a glass-covered poster on the opposite wall and used it as a makeshift mirror.
TAKE A TRAIN AND TRANSCEND TIME
, the vintage poster read, and had a picture of a smiling woman in a white suit—from the forties maybe—holding a suitcase and boarding the train. Even though Lexi was surrounded by gobs of people, she suddenly felt very alone. She hugged her backpack to her chest, gazing down at the endless parade of shoes passing by—sneakers … stilettos … sandals … Oxfords—until they became a liquid blur.

“I'm so glad you came to Atlantic City with me!”

She heard her mother's voice in her head with such clarity it made her heart quake.

“Just in time for the Show Me Your Shoes Parade,” her mother had said, pulling nine-year-old Lexi along the crowded boardwalk. “I've never even heard of it before, have you, cookie?”

“Nuh-uh. We lucked out!”

All the Miss America contestants had been perched on the trunks of shiny convertibles rolling along the boardwalk real slow. Spotlights on the hoods were aimed at them. Onlookers shouting, “Show us your shoes!” The beauty queens hiked up their glittery gowns to reveal a little leg.
So corny. Lexi was on tiptoes, straining to see over heads, when she felt a sudden jerk.

“Agh! What was—oh, Lex, my heel. It's stuck between the darn slats!”

It was happening all around them, too—ladies getting their high heels caught in the boardwalk, squealing like alligators were nipping at their ankles. A minefield. Finally, Lexi's mom yanked her pump free with a grunt.

“Hey, Mom.” Lexi readied her digital camera. “Show us your shoe!”

Her mother dangled her gnarled high heel between two fingers like it was a smelly dead fish and stuck out her tongue. Lexi roared and snapped a picture. It was definitely a keeper.

Even after taking forty-eight killer shots of the Miss America pageant itself, this photo was still her absolute favorite. That was what she had decided during the first half of their long train ride home.

“Saltwater taffy?” her mom asked, digging through her Fralinger's souvenir tin as the train chugged along. “There're some chocolate ones left, hon, but they're going fast.”

Lexi shook her head. Barely. She had gone from rating her photos to studying the contestant bios in her giant souvenir program.

“All these girls have the same crazy-white teeth, Mom—and talent. Look! Classical piano, tap dance, vocal performance …” She flipped through the pages. “Plus, they
all know ways to save the world. End world hunger, stop global warming—”

“Don't tell me you want to try out for Miss America someday.”

“No way.” She thought for a second. “But, Mom—shouldn't I start learning how to do
something
soon?”

“Oh, come on. You do cheerleading.” She gave Lexi's knee a little jiggle. “And weren't you even voted Best Personality at cheer camp last summer?”

“Everyone got a prize. They just couldn't come up with anything—better.”

“I give up.” Her mom snapped the lid on the tin of saltwater taffy and shoved it into her tote with a throaty sigh. “You're nine, for heaven's sake. You have plenty of time to discover your hidden talents.”

Lexi's shoulders had stiffened against the vinyl seat-back.
But what if I don't—what if I wind up being ordinary?
It was true that some people were late bloomers. But if something special was growing inside Lexi other than maybe a perky personality, wouldn't she at least have seen some buds by now?

A squealing baby snapped Lexi back into reality.
Or now?
she thought, folding her arms across her chest. Suddenly Grand Central Terminal was alive as ever and buzzing all around her.

“So, what's it gonna be?” Kim Ling asked, jutting out her hip. “Hello? Earth to Lex! The kid's vein has been
drained and I've convinced him to stay. So, that's two votes yea, which leaves it all up to you.”

“Huh. Really, Kev?”

“Yeah. She twisted my arm.”

“Not literally,” Kim Ling said. “Well? Are we heading back to the dork convention, aka City Camp, or are you up for doing something extraordinary?”

What was it about that word?
Lexi, who had one time in her life spent a full twelve minutes deciding between chunky and smooth peanut butter, rose to her feet and answered unblinkingly, “Extraordinary.”

“You mean it?” Kim Ling asked. “So you're in?”

“I'm in.”

And they sealed the deal with a firm handshake.

9
DOOR NUMBER THREE

“Okay, red, get me up to speed.” Kim Ling unshouldered her backpack and began digging through it. “All you told me in the park was that you heard two guys plotting to bury jewels under an abandoned train track until they can have them stripped and shipped. We need specifics. Here, take my notebook and jot down anything that pops into your mind—no matter how trivial.”

As soon as Kim Ling handed Lexi the small spiral notebook and pen, her mind was mud. “Well, let's see. The, uh, guy with the accent said ‘bloody' a lot.”

“So? Brits say bloody for everything—bloody rain, bloody fog, bloody queen—”

“You said no matter how trivial!”

“Anything specific about the location? Concentrate.”

Lexi closed her eyes and tried to relive the mystery men's conversation in her mind. “Track Fifty-one—or Sixty-one. East, I think. Yeah, the East Terminal.”

“Write it down.”

“I remember they said a few levels below—right.” A surge of sour acid shot up Lexi's throat and she swallowed it with a squint. “So, we should probably—I don't know, start by going down as far as we can and head east.”

“Okay, nice work. Let's jet! And if anyone asks, you guys are two innocent kids from Cold Spring.”

Kevin dug his finger in his ear. “We
are
two innocent kids from Cold Spring.”

“See how that works?”

There were no elevators in sight, but Lexi remembered seeing one next to the Oyster Bar and Restaurant. So they flew down the hall past the Whispering Gallery and boarded the first elevator to arrive. It only went down one level, so that was where they got off. With the help of Kevin's official NASA space compass replica, the three-some scuttled eastward down an empty hallway and rounded a shadowy corner, scouring every inch for who knew what. They stopped at an unmarked door. Kim Ling was the only one brave enough to open it and peek inside.

“Ugh! Gross!”

It turned out to be a smelly employee bathroom. But there were two bigger doors right next to it. One of them had a sign that read:
DO NOT ENTER. AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY
.

“Hmm, that looks promising,” Kim Ling said. She twisted the doorknob, but the door was locked so she moved on to Door Number Three.

BOOK: Madhattan Mystery
13.38Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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