Mystery of the Phantom Heist (8 page)

“Warned me about what?” came a voice.

The four of us spun around. Standing right behind us was—

“Aunt Trudy!” Frank exclaimed.

“Where were you?” Dad asked, looking relieved.

“At the movies, seeing that new action flick,” Aunt Trudy said. She stared at the now-smoldering garage. “But I guess there’s more action going on here!”

Frank and I traded relieved smiles. Leave it to Aunt Trudy to crack a joke—even when her apartment was about to go up in flames. Luckily, the firefighters were getting the blaze out before it could spread that far.

Chief Madison, the fire chief, came over to us with the report.

“The garage has considerable damage,” he told us. “But the apartment upstairs is unscathed.”

“Great,” Aunt Trudy said, walking toward the garage. “I’m going to catch up on my
Dancing with the Stars
—”

“You can watch it in the house, Trudy,” Mom insisted. “Which is where you’ll be staying until we know your apartment is safe.”

“And no more candles,” Dad said. “Please!”

Aunt Trudy flapped her hand dismissively.

“For your info, Fenton, I didn’t burn any candles today,” she insisted. “And if I did, I’d certainly have the brains to snuff it out before going to the movies.”

“The fire couldn’t have started in Aunt Trudy’s apartment if there was no damage up there,” I said, turning to the fire chief. “Right?”

“Right,” Chief Madison agreed. “The fire started in the garage, which isn’t uncommon. Lots of oily rags, clutter—”

“Sabotage,” Frank cut in.

Chief Madison stared at Frank. “Excuse me?” he asked. “Did you say sabotage?”

“Someone could have set the fire as a prank,” Frank said.

“Someone or someones,” I agreed.

“Do you mean those kids who’ve been pulling pranks all over Bayport?” Mom asked. “You think they set fire to our garage?”

“They’re not just any kids, Mom,” I said. “They’re a gang who call themselves the Scaredevils.”

“We’ve heard about them,” Chief Madison said with a frown. “But setting a fire is a lot more serious than throwing eggs down a book drop.”

“Whoa,” Aunt Trudy said. “Maybe I will stay in the house after all.”

“We have tests to see where the fire started and how,” Chief Madison said. “But it might take a few days.”

He walked away to join his ladder company.

The damage wasn’t too bad, but it was enough to leave the garage unusable.

“This is serious, guys,” Dad said. “I think you should go to the police first thing tomorrow and tell them what you know.”

“You mean talk to Chief Olaf?” I grimaced. “I’d rather get a tooth filled.”

“Dad, we just told Chief Olaf we thought the Scaredevils were targeting us,” Frank complained.

“We told Olaf who the ringleader was,” I said. “But he didn’t even listen.”

Mom turned to Dad, a worried look on her face. “Maybe you should go talk to the chief, Fenton,” she said. “Better yet, we both should.”

“Good idea, Laura,” Dad said.

Frank and I exchanged frantic looks. If Chief Olaf didn’t take us seriously now, he sure wouldn’t with our mommy and daddy speaking for us.

“Mom, Dad—no,” I said.

“No what?” Dad asked.

“No thanks,” Frank said. “Joe and I will talk to the chief tomorrow.”

“But you said he won’t listen to you!” Mom said.

“Oh, let them go, Laura,” Aunt Trudy said, smiling in our direction. “If at first you don’t succeed—try, try again!”

After the fire truck left, Frank and I climbed the stairs to our rooms. The smoke smell from the garage had wafted all the way into the house.

“Of all nights for us to be out,” Frank said. “If I hadn’t gone to meet Sierra, I might have caught the Scaredevils in the act.”

I remembered my tablet and pulled it out. “Maybe we still can,” I said. “Catch them in the act, I mean.”

In Frank’s room I searched YouTube for slickbro13’s latest “hit.” It didn’t take long to find the clip I was looking for—a bunch of bandanna-wearing punks running away from our garage as the bottom edge of the door began to smolder.

“No cheering in the background this time,” I pointed out. “They probably didn’t want to attract Mom’s and Dad’s attention.”

Frank moved closer to the tablet. “I did hear something on there,” he said. “It sounded like someone’s voice.”

I replayed the clip and listened. “I don’t hear anything,” I admitted.

“Wait, here it comes,” Frank cut in.

Quickly I turned up the volume. That’s when I heard someone snicker and say, “Hah! This ought to keep the cops busy!”

That was a voice I’d know anywhere. It belonged to the gang’s now infamous ringleader, Colin Sylvester!

“That’s Colin on the tape, Frank,” I declared. “What do you think he means about keeping the cops busy?”

“Who knows?” Frank said. “But at least we have some proof for Olaf that Colin was in on this.”

“And this time,” I said, smiling as I held up my tablet, “we’ll convince the chief to watch the clip!”

•   •   •

We usually slept in on Saturdays, but this morning Frank and I were up at the crack of dawn. With Aunt Trudy now in the house, we were treated to an awesome breakfast of buckwheat pancakes and banana smoothies.

“Where’d you get these ingredients, Aunt Trudy?” Frank asked.

“I climbed the ladder up to my apartment,” Aunt Trudy pretended to whisper. “Don’t tell your mom and dad.”

Mom and Dad came into the kitchen. When they wished Frank and me luck with Chief Olaf, I had a feeling we were going to need it—even with the clip we had of Colin at the scene of the crime.

When Frank and I arrived at the station, we walked straight to the front desk. An officer was drinking from a goofy coffee cup. On it was a pair of handcuffs and the words
ONE SIZE FITS ALL
.

“Good morning,” Frank said. “We’re here to see Chief Olaf.”

Before the officer could look up from his cup, the chief himself marched right past us, followed by an angry Sanford Peyton!

“What else do you want me to do, Mr. Peyton?” Chief Olaf asked.

“Plenty!” Sanford replied. “My daughter’s party is tomorrow night. You can schedule the number of officers you assured us a month ago.”

“That was before all the pranks started happening around
here,” Chief Olaf said. “I can’t afford to put my force in one place when stores and cars are being trashed on a daily basis.”

“I understand,” Sanford said. “But all we have now is one officer for the whole party.”

“And a good number of private security guards, I’m sure,” Chief Olaf said. He gave a chuckle. “It’s a Sweet Sixteen, Mr. Peyton. What’s the worst that could happen—someone tries to melt the ice sculpture?”

“Funny, Olaf,” Sanford said gruffly. “If this is what I pay my taxes for, I can easily retract my donation to the Bayport Police Department.”

I could see the chief’s face pale. He seemed to force a quick smile before saying, “Mr. Peyton, why don’t we discuss this further in my office? How do you like your coffee?”

“In a French press,” Sanford replied as he followed the chief through his office door. “With steamed milk, no sugar.”

Frank and I watched the door slam shut. The officer looked up from his goofy cup and said, “Still want to speak to the chief?”

“Um . . . could you excuse us?” Frank said politely.

As we stepped away from the desk, I could still hear the sound of Sanford Peyton’s voice arguing with the chief behind closed doors.

“Something tells me this is going to take a while,” Frank said.

“Yeah.” I sighed. “And who knows if the chief will even speak to us after dealing with that?”

Frank shrugged. “Maybe Mom and Dad ought to speak to the chief after all,” he said. “Maybe they would have more luck.”

I shook my head. “I’m not ready to go there yet,” I said.

“Then what?” Frank asked, trying to keep his voice down.

“Let’s find Colin and get in his face,” I suggested. “We know where the Sylvesters live.”

“Yeah, but how do we know Colin will be home?” Frank asked.

“It’s Saturday morning, so he’s probably sleeping in,” I said. “Especially after a busy night of setting fires.”

The chief and Sanford Peyton were still going at it when Frank and I left the police station.

“Aren’t you glad we’re not working that party?” Frank said to me as he drove off.

“That’s for sure.” I smiled. “I knew those togas were a bad sign!”

The road leading to the Sylvester house was a steep one. It wound through a wooded area until reaching a three-story glass-walled house overlooking the bay. The place looked more like a dream getaway than a family home.

“Glass walls,” I observed. “Doesn’t leave much to the imagination.”

Frank parked at a safe distance.

As we quietly walked toward the house, I couldn’t help
but wonder what Colin was dreaming about as he slept in. More fires? A detonation somewhere? The possibilities were endless in a sick mind like his!

Once at the house, Frank and I got nosy. We peered through the glass into what looked like the Sylvesters’ den. But unlike most dens, the walls weren’t lined with bookshelves or entertainment equipment. These walls were covered with guns and rifles!

“Will you look at that?” I whispered.

“There must be two dozen guns in there,” Frank whispered back. “Some look like antiques. One looks as old as the Civil War.”

“That’s a lot of coinage,” I said.

“Whatever they’re worth, it’s probably lunch money for the Sylvesters,” Frank scoffed.

I couldn’t take my eyes off the guns. Why did the Sylvesters have them hanging in plain sight like that? As a warning to home invaders? Or to snoopers like Frank and me?

“Joe!”

“What?” I said, turning to Frank.

“Colin is out on his deck,” he said. “I can see him through the glass.”

“That’s what we’re here for,” I said. “Let’s go over to him and—”

“He’s with his friends,” Frank finished.

“Oh,” I said.

I peered through the glass all the way out to the deck.
There was Colin, leaning back in an Adirondack chair and eating what looked like a muffin. Standing around him and drinking coffee were the same guys from his school.

“Five against two?” I said with a sigh. “I think this calls for a change of plans.”

“Let’s go around the house,” Frank said. “Maybe we can hear what they’re talking about.”

Sticking close to the wall, we moved toward the back where the deck stood. When we got to the end of the wall, we stopped and strained our ears to listen. We heard a few words thrown around but couldn’t make out the conversation.

“This isn’t going to work,” Frank murmured.

I was about to agree until I remembered something inside my jacket pocket—the ear amplifier Connie had given me at Dad’s office.

“Let’s see if this thing works,” I whispered. After untangling the wire, I stuck the bud in my right ear. Yes! The voices of Colin Sylvester and his peeps were coming in loud and clear!

I gave Frank a thumbs-up, then listened closely.

“I wish you could taste how awesome this muffin is,” Colin was saying. “The blueberries are, like, the size of my fist.”

I rolled my eyes. Colin’s breakfast? Was this how good it was going to get?

“What?” Frank hissed, dying to know what I heard.

Suddenly I heard a girl’s voice speak up. It sounded scratchy, as if it was coming through a speakerphone. It also sounded familiar.

“So tell me about the plan,” she said. “How’s it coming along?”

“The plan is going according to plan!” Colin chuckled. “Trust me, babe. Soon it’ll all be worth it.”

“Yeah!” one of his friends said. “This is going to be huge!”

Frank must have seen my eyes pop wide open. “What?” he whispered. “What are you hearing?”

I shook my head as if to say,
Wait
. It was the girl’s voice I heard next.

“Colin, you are soooo bad,” she said. “But that’s why you’re my guy.”

I yanked out the earbud and turned to Frank. “Colin is planning something big,” I whispered. “And it’s going down soon.”

“A plan?” Frank whispered. “What kind of plan?”

“Don’t know.” I shrugged.

“That’s it,” Frank said, no longer whispering. “I don’t care that he’s with his friends. We’re questioning him right now—”

“Hello,” a voice said.

Frank and I spun around. A tanned, middle-aged woman wearing a white tennis outfit was standing a few feet away.

“G-good morning!” Frank stammered.

“Um . . . Mrs. Sylvester?” I asked.

“Mrs. Sylvester?” She laughed. “All of Colin’s friends call me Barbara.”

“I meant . . . Barbara!” I said, laughing too. All the time my heart was pounding inside my chest. Had Colin’s mom
seen us snooping around? Had she caught the listening device in my ear?

“Why don’t I tell Colin you’re here?” Barbara Sylvester said, heading toward the deck. “I can get Helga to bring out more muffins.”

“No!” Frank said quickly. “I mean, thanks, but we were just leaving.”

“The muffins were great, by the way,” I said. “Blueberries the size of my fist!”

I felt Barbara’s eyes on us as we hurried back to our car.

“That was close,” Frank said.

“Yeah, but what happened to questioning Colin?” I asked.

“I’m not questioning anyone in front of his mom,” Frank said as we climbed back into the car. “So how soon is this plan going down? Did anyone say?”

“No, but I found out something else,” I said.

“What?” Frank asked.

“It sounded like Colin Sylvester has a girlfriend,” I said. “He was talking to her on speakerphone.”

“A girlfriend?” Frank scoffed as he turned the key. “Anyone interested in that guy has got to be bad news too.”

“That’s for sure,” I agreed. “What do you think this ‘huge’ plan of his is, Frank?”

Frank sighed as he turned the car around. “I don’t know,” he said. “But whatever it is—it can’t be good.”

A
S I DROVE FARTHER AWAY FROM THE
Sylvester house, I couldn’t stop thinking about this plan Joe had heard about.