The Great Shelby Holmes (16 page)

Before I could ask her to clarify my position, she launched into a recap of the investigation. “So let's look at the facts:
Daisy went missing sometime between midnight, when Mr. Lacy spotted Daisy in bed with Tamra as he checked in on all three kids before he went to sleep, and nine, when Tamra went downstairs and couldn't find her. Mr. Lacy was already at work, Mrs. Lacy was at an exercise class, Zareen was home, and Zane was in the park. While it is possible any one of them could've taken her, the security footage allegedly doesn't show Daisy leaving. We have a jealous older sister who sleepwalks and a trainer who is in need of money and was conveniently
MIA
when Mrs. Lacy tried to reach him when Daisy went missing.”

“Sounds about right to me. So what's
our
next step?” I emphasized the
our
on purpose.

“I'm going to take another look around the house in case there are any new clues.”

“New clues? You were pretty thorough.” I was still having trouble getting the images of Shelby running around like a dog and her bum sticking up in the air out of my mind.

“It's clear that it's somebody who has access to the apartment. They may have gotten careless. Plus, I need to see that footage. That's going to explain how the culprit got away.”

“What can I do?”
Please don't ask me to get you a candy bar
.

“I'm glad you asked, as I'd like to give you a little exercise.”

An exercise?
Seriously?
It was summer, when I don't have to worry about stuff like, you know, homework.

The subway doors opened and Shelby gracefully weaved between the passengers waiting to get on the train while I kept bumping into everybody.

“I'd like you to not simply see, but observe everybody and everything today. Analyze body language. Observe. Remember everything and put it in your brain attic.”

“Brain attic?” She mentioned that yesterday, but I had, yet again, no idea what she was talking about.

“I look at a brain like it's an empty attic,” Shelby started to explain as we walked toward the Lacys'. “You decide how you're going to pack it. Am I going to waste precious real estate to fill it with useless knowledge like sporting terms? Of course not. I make sure to fill my attic only with memories and information that will best serve me as a detective. While most people's brains are a jumble of life events and random facts, I keep my brain well organized. I have different storage spaces that are for specific areas of expertise. For example, I have a whole storage space filled with geology facts, which is why I knew about the black coral. But nothing would ever get in my attic if I didn't observe and realize that I needed to remember it. When I first attempted this, granted I was quite young, being only four years old and all, I would say to myself ‘
This
I need to remember' to ensure that it wasn't something I'd forget.”

This
I really did need to remember.

My brain began throbbing, trying to take in everything she was telling me. She was rattling off so many specifics about ways to really observe, I could hardly keep up.

She did have a point, though: how many times have I hung out with someone or done something and then Mom asked me what I did and I said, “nothing.” It wasn't because I didn't have anything to share with her, but I hadn't been paying close attention. I'd play some ball or watch a movie, but I never really felt present. Maybe that's because I knew I was only a year or two away from moving somewhere else. What was the point of trying to remember every detail of a friend or a home when it was going to go away and be replaced with a new one?

Mom promised me that we'd be here for a while. She had no plans to take us away from New York City anytime soon. I suppose this was as good a time as any to embrace what Shelby was telling me. Observe everything around me. Take it in. Remember.

Even though Shelby had her incredible brain storage unit, I had my journal. While I always focused on fiction, maybe I should start writing about living in New York City and perhaps even Shelby herself. Sure, I had taken notes about our first encounter and yesterday, but it was only the basics. I could really observe and then report it in detail.

We turned the corner onto Central Park West to find Daisy's face everywhere. There were signs plastered on every streetlight, every empty wall space.

Reward?
There was going to be money if we found Daisy? I hadn't even thought of that. I'd assumed Shelby worked for free pizza and sugar.

Shelby's nose scrunched as she studied the flyer. “Ye of little faith.”

She shook her head as we crossed the street to the Lacys' building. “So you want me to observe everything I see today and remember it.”

“That is the pedestrian version, but yes.”

We entered the building, where even more flyers were posted. Security motioned us to go through to the elevators.

“Okay,” I said, because I wanted to make sure I got everything right. I wanted to prove that I could also be a detective. “So do you want, like, a written report or something?”

“No, I have a feeling you're going to know if there's something to tell me.”

I appreciated she had that kind of confidence in me. I hoped she was right. I wasn't exactly sure what she was expecting me to find. But I think she knew. It would've been nice if she could've just told me, but why would she make anything easy for anybody?

Tamra opened the door before we hardly had a chance to knock. “I'm so sorry, Shelby! Please don't get mad!”

“What did you do?” Shelby snapped at her.

“It's been over forty-eight hours. Dad finally caved. It's not that I don't trust that you'll find her, but—” Tamra's bottom lip started to tremble.

When we entered the apartment, Shelby let out a loud groan that made everybody's head turn in the living room.

“Well, hello there, Holmes.”

“Detective Lestrade.”

CHAPTER

18

S
helby
dragged
her
feet
to
the
living
room
,
where
L
estrade
was
sitting
on
a
couch
next
to
M
rs
. Lacy. “I see your career has gone to the dogs, Lestrade.”

Lestrade glared at Shelby. “The Lacys were smart enough to know when the professionals should be involved.”

“We appreciate all your help so far, Shelby,” Mrs. Lacy admitted, much to the aggravation of Lestrade. “However, Detective Lestrade is doing us all a favor by being here.”

“Anything for one of the police department's biggest donors.” Lestrade gave Mrs. Lacy a big smile.

Ah, that was why Lestrade was here. I didn't think the police would've ever gotten involved in a case like this, but money talks. And the Lacys' money probably screamed.

“I hear you have some pretty far-fetched conspiracy theories, Holmes.” Lestrade leaned back on the couch, a cup of coffee in hand. “It's pretty cut and dried—dogs wander off all the time.”

“But Daisy would never do that!” Tamra protested.

“You've got the flyers posted around the neighborhood. I've got calls into the shelters around the city. Don't worry, she was probably already picked up and is safe at a nearby kennel.”

“Yes, wonderful job, Detective Lestrade,” Shelby said with a grimace. “Award-winning work. However, wouldn't whoever found her call the number on her collar?”

It was pretty obvious Lestrade didn't have any more information than we did. Probably less.

“Yes. Although we would've received a ransom call if she'd been dognapped,” Lestrade volleyed back at Shelby.

“I never inferred that this was a dognapping.”

“Then what would you call it?” Lestrade lifted an eyebrow, enjoying her attempt to aggravate Shelby.

Shelby replied by turning on her heel to leave the room.

“Where do you think you're going?” Lestrade called after her.

“To the dogs' room.”

“Heading home so soon?” Lestrade said with a snicker as she took another sip of coffee.

Ouch
.

I got that Shelby could be very grating and disrespectful and impatient and … but Lestrade was the adult and a professional. She shouldn't let Shelby get under her skin so
much. Someone had to be the more mature of the two, and it really should've been the grown-up.

Shelby narrowed her eyes at the detective. I nudged her gently with my shoulder and shook my head at her. I leaned in to whisper in her ear, “The most important thing right now is to find Daisy. Getting into an argument with Lestrade isn't going to help any of us. Move on. Be the bigger person.”

Shelby studied me for a few moments, debating on which road she would take. I held my breath, waiting for her to spew an insult.

“
I'm
going to do something useful since Daisy isn't going to be found by sitting around.” She exited the room, muttering under her breath, “I'm already the better detective.”

Did that really work? Was I able to reason with her? It was a dognapping miracle!

Mrs. Lacy ordered Tamra to follow Shelby while she went to get a refill on Lestrade's coffee.

That left me alone with the detective. I sat down quietly on one of the armchairs in the room, hoping not to draw any attention to myself. The last thing I needed was any problems with the police.

“Weren't you with Holmes the other day at the deli?” Lestrade broke the silence. “What's your name, kid?”

“Ah,” I stuttered, as I'd never had to deal with a police
officer before. Sure, there were plenty of security guards and military personnel on the posts, but I was never associated with somebody like Shelby. “I'm John Watson, ma'am. My mother was in the army, and we just moved to New York City. Shelby's my neighbor.”

I don't know why I felt the need to share so much, but maybe if she knew that my mom was in the military, she'd know that I wasn't up to any trouble (despite Shelby's intentions).

“Listen, John Watson, let me give you some advice from your friendly neighborhood New York City Police Depart-ment: no good can come from hanging out with that girl.”

Yeah, I had the feeling.

But …
And that was the thing with Shelby. As rude and peculiar as she was, it was fun hanging out with her. She was becoming a friend and someone I was learning a lot from (again,
not
as an assistant).

“Yes, ma'am,” I replied, because there wasn't any other answer I could've given. The chances were slim that I'd ever cross paths with Detective Lestrade again.

“
AHA
!” Shelby's voice carried into the living room.

“Great,” Lestrade said sarcastically.