Mystery of the Phantom Heist (12 page)

“Hey, Frank?” I said slowly. “Since when do gladiators carry guns?”

G
UNS?” I ASKED, TRYING TO YELL OVER
the music. “What guns?”

Joe gestured at the gladiators’ sheaths as they marched by with Lindsay’s throne. I saw what Joe was talking about. Instead of fake swords, these gladiators were packing heat!

“See what I mean?” Joe said to me.

I nodded slowly.

All I could see of the guns were the handles. The carved ivory told me they were antique.

“Joe,” I whispered urgently. “Those are the kind of guns we saw at the Sylvesters’.”

Chet was right behind us, listening in. “So what are you saying?” he asked.

“I’m saying one of those gladiators is Colin,” I said, narrowing my eyes at the procession. “And he didn’t come alone.”

The parade of gladiators came to a sudden stop. Lindsay gasped as her throne jerked. Without warning, the gladiators released their grips on the throne, sending it to the floor with a heavy thud. Many of the guests gasped as Lindsay tumbled off the throne onto the floor.

“Hey!” she shrieked.

All four gladiators drew their guns. One pulled out a rifle, which he turned toward the band. “Shut up!” he shouted. “All of you!”

I didn’t have to see beyond the heavy helmet to know it was Colin.

“Okay, what’s going on?” a Bijou manager said as she squeezed through the crowd of guests. She took one look at the gun and paled. “I see.”

Guests and staff stood frozen, too stunned to speak. The only one in the crowd who seemed cool was Sierra. With a small smile on her face, she joined the gladiators.

“Friends, Romans, countrymen, lend me your ears!” Colin shouted through his helmet. “Or better—lend me your bling-bling, watches, and phones!”

I glanced around for the guards, but they had gone outside to investigate the hurled tire. The smashed window must have been Colin’s idea to get them out of the way.

“Frank, we’ve got to do something!” Joe said.

“Do what?” I shot back. “Those guns weren’t part of our game plan!”

Two of the gladiators waved their weapons at the guests. One by one, they dropped their jewelry and electronics onto a third gladiator’s shield, held out like a tray. The clinking sound of each item hitting the metal was chilling and infuriating.

Joe was right. We had to do something. And fast.

“Here’s what I think we should do,” I whispered to Joe and Chet. “It’s not foolproof, but it’s worth a shot.”

“Shot?” Chet murmured. “Bad word choice, dude.”

“Go on!” Joe urged me.

With one eye on the gladiators, I whispered my plan. “We wait until they come over to us. Chet, you knee the shield up into the guy’s face. While that’s going down, Joe and I will go for the guns.”

“What about Colin over there?” Joe whispered. “He’s got a gun too.”

“Uh, like, a big gun!” Chet added.

A commotion broke out across the room. One guy was refusing to hand over his expensive-looking phone.

“Come on,” Sierra shouted at him. “Hand it over!”

Lindsay pulled herself up off the floor and stared open-mouthed at Sierra.

“Wait a minute, Sierra,” Lindsay said angrily. “You’re in on this? Who are these guys?”

“Shut your mouth, birthday girl!” Colin shouted at Lindsay.

Lindsay planted her hands on her hips.

“Look, jerk,” Lindsay shouted back. “I don’t know who you are, but you’re ruining my Sweet Sixteen!”

Colin threw back his helmeted head. “That’s the idea, Linny,” he said with a laugh.

“Wait a minute, I know that voice!” Lindsay said through gritted teeth. She ran up to him so they were inches apart, face to face. Colin threw off his helmet. “I knew it!” Lindsay exclaimed. “You guys, it’s Colin Sylvester!”

Groans rose up from the crowd—until Colin pointed his rifle straight at Lindsay’s head.

The crowd fell silent. A few guests sobbed softly while Lindsay froze with fear. Without moving a muscle, she uttered, “Don’t shoot . . . please.”

I knew we couldn’t wait. We had to stop Colin now!

I saw Joe grab one of the flaming torches from its stand. I grabbed one too. Together we marched toward Colin and his menacing rifle.

“Drop the gun, Colin!” I demanded.

Colin turned away from Lindsay. When he saw us, he chuckled. “Well, if it isn’t the boy detectives,” he said. “I suppose you can fight with fire. Although I prefer firepower!”

Gasps filled the room as Colin aimed the rifle at Joe and me. I thrust my flaming torch at Colin. It didn’t touch him, but he jumped, letting the gun drop from his hands.

Joe and I lunged for the rifle. We didn’t get very far. . . .

“You guys, look out!” Lindsay shouted.

I glanced over my shoulder to see the other three gladiators moving toward us. Joe and I traded worried looks. Our torches might have been effective with Colin, but they were no match for three powerful guns coming our way!

I thought it was over, until I heard a loud, long creak. Looking up, I saw a fake tree beginning to tip over. I watched in shock as the tree came crashing down on the three gladiators, pinning them to the ground and knocking their guns from their hands.

“How did that happen?” Joe exclaimed.

We turned to see Chet at the base of the tree. Grinning triumphantly, he ran to grab the guns scattered on the floor. He was about to go for the last one when Sierra grabbed it first.

“Heads up!” Sierra shouted as she tossed the gun to Colin. He caught it with one hand, then turned it on us.

“Nice try, Hardys,” Colin snapped. “But I win.”

“Game’s not over, Sylvester!” Joe shouted as he karate-kicked the gun out of Colin’s hand. Colin stood stunned long enough for me to run around and grab him in a choke hold.

“Now game over!” I shouted.

But was it? From the corner of my eye, I saw one of the gladiators dragging himself out from under the tree. His eyes burned through his helmet as he slowly stood up. But before he could come after us . . .

“Stop right there!” a gruff voice boomed.

Joe and I whirled around to see Chief Olaf and his officers pushing through the crowd. Behind them, looking horrified, was Sanford Peyton.

I loosened my grip on Colin as the chief took hold of his arm.

“Nice work, boys,” Chief Olaf grunted.

“Um . . . thanks,” I said, surprised to hear the words coming out of the chief’s mouth. “How did you know to come?”

“Are you kidding me?” Chief Olaf said. “Our station must have gotten a dozen calls and texts within the last fifteen minutes!”

I smiled as a slew of guests raised their cell phones triumphantly.

“Hey, Colin,” Joe said with a laugh. “I guess not everybody handed over their fancy phones!”

Sanford had his arm draped around Lindsay’s shoulder. “If only I’d been here to stop this,” he said. “Why did I have to go outside?”

“You did fine, Mr. Peyton,” Chief Olaf said. “You and the guards tracked down those Scaredevil punks. They’re on their way to the station now.”

Colin stared at the chief. “What did they tell you?” he demanded. “If they told you I robbed the party, they lied.”

He pointed at Joe, Chet, then me. “Those are the guys who came with the guns. They’re the ones you should be taking in!”

“Oh, blah, blah, blah, Colin,” Lindsay said with a sigh.
She turned to Chief Olaf. “Colin and his friends snuck in here dressed as gladiators, with the help of Sierra, may I add. They’re the ones who tried to rob us.”

Colin’s face glowed red as guests called out in agreement. I glanced at Sierra. She appeared to be muttering something to Lindsay through gritted teeth. I had a feeling it wasn’t “Happy birthday!”

“Thank you, Miss Peyton,” Chief Olaf said. “I’m sure we’ve got some Scaredevils at the station attesting to everything you said.”

“Call my father!” Colin demanded as cuffs were put around his wrists. “I’m sure you can both work something out.”

The chief shook his head. “Your dad’s money won’t help you this time, Colin,” he said. “And I’m sure your dad won’t be thrilled to know you were playing with his guns.”

“Which were not loaded, by the way!” an officer holding the guns called over.

Colin really turned red now. No wonder the vintage guns hadn’t gone off when they’d hit the floor.

“Let’s hope your dad can afford the bail,” Chief Olaf told Colin. “And I’d be interested in seeing some of those videos you and your friends starred in.”

Joe folded his arms across his chest as he eyed Colin.

“Did you do it, Colin?” he asked. “Did you pay off those kids to keep the police away from the party?”

“What if I did?” Colin snapped. He turned his glare
toward Lindsay. “After the way she treated me, it’s a small price to pay for revenge.”

Lindsay stared at Colin as the chief led him out of the hall. I turned to see Sierra being led out too, along with the other gladiators, their helmets removed to reveal their faces.

“Sierra must have canceled the real gladiators and replaced them with Colin’s friends,” Joe figured.

“Man,” I sighed, “did she have me fooled.”

“She had us all fooled, Frank,” Joe said. “But now the joke’s on her.”

“And on her psycho boyfriend,” Chet added.

Sanford Peyton smiled at Joe, then at me. It was the first smile I’d seen from him yet.

“I’d like to thank you guys for your help,” he said. “I’m just learning that you’re quite the detectives.”

“Don’t forget our friend Chet,” Joe said. “If he hadn’t brought down that tree, who knows what would have happened?”

“Hey,” Chet joked, wiggling his hand. “It’s all in the wrist!”

This time Lindsay smiled. “I guess all three of you guys are gladiator material after all,” she said. “Why don’t you stay and hang with us?”

“Why?” Joe teased. “So we can serve mini quiche and hot wings?”

“No!” Lindsay laughed. “So you can party!”

She spun around, calling out to her friends, “Bayport High guys really rock—am I right?”

Their answer came in an earsplitting cheer. Chet shrugged and said, “Cool.”

Paradise Six struck a chord as Lindsay jumped back on her throne. Waving both arms in the air, she shouted, “By order of your divine empress, let’s get this party started . . . again!”

Some of the cops stuck around to return the stolen goods and make sure everybody was okay. As for Joe, Chet, and me—our job was done.

Joe grinned at me as we made a beeline for the dessert table. “You know, Frank,” he said. “Those Bay Academy kids aren’t so bad.”

“With the exception of a few,” I said. “Like maybe four or five?”

“What about those Scaredevils who go to our school?” Chet asked. “What do you think is going to happen to them?”

I shrugged. “They trashed Bayport for the money,” I said. “Hopefully they’ll fix it up. But that’ll be up to the judge.”

We stood in line for the designer birthday cake, sculpted to look like an ancient Roman temple. A model of Empress Lindsay chiseled from Rice Krispies treats waved from the top.

“You got to see it to believe it,” Joe said, chuckling.

“Speaking of believing,” I said, “do you think the kids at school will believe we just battled an army of gladiators with nothing but torches and karate kicks?”

“Sure they will!” Chet said. He pulled Joe’s tablet from his waist pouch and held it high. “And if they don’t, I’ve got it all on tape!”

D
ID YOU KNOW THAT COTTON
CANDY
depends heavily on the molecular construction of sugar?” I asked
brightly, grabbing a hunk of my brother Joe’s fluffy pink confection and popping
it into my mouth. “The cotton candy machine uses centrifugal force to spin hot
sugar so quickly and cool it so rapidly, the sugar doesn’t have time to
recrystallize!”

My date—or so I’d been told, because she didn’t seem
super attached to me—Penelope Chung, rolled her eyes. “That’s
fascinating, Frank,” she said, shooting a glare at her best friend, Daisy
Rodriguez, who was Joe’s date and the glue barely holding our foursome together.
“Please tell me more about molecules. Or force times acceleration. Or the atomic
properties of
fun
.”

Joe coughed loudly, grabbing my shoulder and pulling
me close enough to hear him mutter, “Ixnay on the ience-scay.”

I couldn’t help it. Joe is always telling me science isn’t
romantic, but
come on
. Isn’t “romance”
itself a scientific concept? Attraction, biology, all that stuff?

Daisy smiled, a little too enthusiastically. “Shall we head over to
the G-Force?” she asked, looking hopefully from Penelope and me to Joe. “My
dad said the first ride would be at eight o’clock. And it’s just about
quarter of.”

“Yes!” Penelope cried before Joe or I could respond, grabbing
Daisy’s arm and pulling her ahead of us toward Funspot’s new ride, G-Force.
Penelope leaned close to Daisy’s ear, and while I couldn’t hear what she was
saying, her tone did not sound warm.

Joe met my eye and sighed.

“I don’t think she likes me,” I told him.

Joe just shook his head and patted my back. “I think your powers of
detection are dead-on true, bro.”

We started walking. “Sorry,” I said. “I know
you’re really into Daisy.”

Joe nodded. “It’s okay, man,” he said, holding out his
cotton candy for me to take another hunk. “I just don’t think you’re
Penelope’s type.”

I nodded. “But it’s pretty cool that we get to be some of the
first people to check out G-Force, right?”

“
Very
cool,” Joe agreed.

G-Force was the new, premiere attraction at Funspot,
a small amusement park that had been a staple of Bayport summers for generations,
but had been getting more and more run-down over the years. Last fall, Daisy’s
dad, Hector, had used their entire family’s savings to buy the park from its
longtime owner, Doug Spencer, who had fallen on hard times. Hector wanted to build
Funspot into a top-tier amusement park—the kind of place people would drive hours
to visit. His first step toward making that happen had been to install G-Force.