The Great Shelby Holmes (7 page)

Once the grumbling in our stomachs subsided, we took stock of what we knew so far, which wasn't very much.

“Has Daisy ever come into the kitchen?” Shelby took a bite of another brownie.

(Her third, not like I was counting.

Okay, I was.)

“Never,” Tamra said with a fierce shake of her head. “Even if the door's wide open, Daisy wouldn't come in here. She knows the rules.”

“And what about Roxy?”

Tamra glanced at the door and then lowered her voice. “Roxy's always been a handful. Zareen wanted her to compete in dog shows also, but she always barks at strangers.”

“But Miss Eugenia isn't a stranger. She's been working for your family since before you were born.”

Tamra didn't bother asking Shelby how she knew that fact about Miss Eugenia, although I looked around, trying to find the clue that made her take that leap. I was too busy being in awe of the shiny marble floor. It was like being in a museum.

Tamra continued, “Well, Roxy doesn't bark at immediate family, although she sometimes barks at my dad. It drives
him crazy. He wanted to get rid of Roxy since she's so loud, and a few neighbors have even complained. But anytime he brings it up, Zareen locks herself in her room and she won't come out until he promises her she can keep Roxy.”

“Interesting.” Shelby nodded slowly. “And where was Roxy when Daisy disappeared?”

“Roxy sleeps in the hallway downstairs at the foot of the stairs. She only moves to her bed in the dogs' room if Daisy is with her. Roxy isn't allowed to sleep in Zareen's room anymore, because she kept chewing on the furniture. We close all the other doors, except for the dogs' room, so she won't cause too much trouble during the night.”

“And where was she when you realized that Daisy had gone missing?”

“Roxy was in the hallway chewing on one of Daisy's toys.”

“And was it a toy that Daisy would've gone to bed with?”

“Yes.” Tamra slapped her hand against her forehead. “I'm just realizing this now. Daisy always brings Caruso to bed—that's the name of her stuffed Chihuahua—as well as a stuffed bone, which also wasn't in my bed this morning. She must've taken them with her when she went to keep Roxy company in the middle of the night. She likes to do that sometimes. I think Daisy feels bad for Roxy.”

“But how did she get out of your room if the door was shut so Roxy wouldn't get in?” I blurted out, proud that I could contribute something to this investigation.

“Because the bedrooms are on the second floor,” Shelby replied before turning back to Tamra. “I assume Roxy is either too small to get up the stairs by herself or is afraid of the stairs?”

“Actually, it's both. She'll sometimes just bark at the stairs.” Tamra shook her head.

“But you said that she sleeps near the stairs? Why would she do that if she was scared of them?” Shelby asked.

“She used to sit there and whine, hoping one of us would take her up to the second floor. I think she does it because it requires whoever goes downstairs to have to pet her or make some fuss over her since she's in the way.”

“Are there any exits on the second floor?” Shelby asked.

“None.”

“And would it be possible for somebody to leave the apartment without passing Roxy?”

“No. We only have the one staircase, which is near the one door.”

“Interesting. Can you give us a tour?”

I always hated it whenever Mom insisted that we take the dreaded house tour when we visited friends and family, like I really cared about a powder room. But I was looking
forward to this one. I already couldn't wait to tell Mom all about it. I didn't understand how we could've called this palace and the small two-bedroom place where we moved into the same thing. Was there such a thing as a mega-apartment?

“Of course,” Tamra replied, but then her name was called from the hallway. “I'll be right back.”

Shelby shut her eyes for a few minutes while I tried to put everything together. Who would've wanted Daisy gone?

“Maybe the cook did it?” I offered.

“No,” she replied with closed eyes.

“You're only saying that because she gave you brownies.”

She finally opened her eyes. It was clear that I had somehow insulted her. “I can't be bribed.”

“Okay, okay, but she doesn't like dogs,” I reasoned. “She would've had access.”

“It wasn't the cook.”

“How do you know?”

“Isn't it obvious?”

Uh, no
. It wasn't obvious or I wouldn't have suggested it.

“I'm surprised with your vast
experience with the military
that you would draw such a conclusion,” Shelby teased. (Honestly, I was impressed she held out this long before she took a dig at my exaggerated experience.) “Besides, there's something way more pressing, Watson. I've just had a huge clue delivered right to me.”

“What clue?”

“Whoever took Daisy would've had to pass by or be near Roxy, but Roxy didn't make any noise last night or this morning. Isn't that curious?”

“Why?”

“Because the dog barks at almost everybody.”

“So?”

“
So
that would mean that whoever took Daisy was someone who Roxy knew. It had to have been a close family member or a friend. Or else Roxy would've barked so much when the person went to leave that it would've woken the whole apartment, if not the building.”

Oh
.

Shelby took another brownie off the plate (and
I'm
the one with the insulin problem?). “It looks like I can put everybody in the family on my list of suspects.”

“Isn't it innocent until proven guilty?” I asked.

“Not for me. It's guilty until proven otherwise.”

CHAPTER

8

A
crime
had
definitely
been
committed
in
T
amra
'
s
room
.

There was pink
everywhere
. If a surface wasn't bubblegum pink, it was covered in something frilly. The entire top of Tamra's pink dresser was crowded with first-place trophies in dance and dog competitions. Above her bed was a large painting of a black-and-white dog with brown around the eyes.

I felt like I was getting hives simply from being in here.

“Where does Daisy usually sleep?” Shelby asked.

When Tamra patted the place on the bed next to where she had sat down, Shelby hopped on the bed on all fours like a dog. She then put her face so low there was hardly any room between her nose and the pink lace comforter. After a few minutes of actually sniffing around, she jumped down to the ground and continued her,
ah
, research?

Tamra looked up at me with a quizzical expression, and all I could do was shrug. Like
I
had any clue what Shelby was up to.

“So this was how she would've left?” Shelby asked from the floor as she sniffed the doorway.

“Yeah.” Tamra had a horrified look on her face, probably wondering what
she
had gotten herself into.

We followed our pseudo four-legged companion out into the hallway.

“What's in those rooms?” Shelby gestured at the two rooms across the hall.

“Those are Zareen's and Zane's rooms,” Tamra replied as she opened one of the doors. “They're twins.”

Shelby stood up and scanned Zareen's room, which was painted a sunny yellow. It had far less clutter and trophies than Tamra's. The trophies she did have were for third and fourth place.

It didn't take a genius like Shelby Holmes to wonder if Zareen might have had a motive to take Daisy. Her younger sister got all the trophies and had the better-behaved dog who most likely would've won Saturday's competition. Plus, Roxy wouldn't bark at her.

We moved on to the next room. Suddenly, I felt hopeful. Zane wasn't only a guy; he was my kind of guy: posters of the New York Yankees and the Knicks lined his dark blue
walls. On his bookshelves were pictures with other guys at an amusement park and playing ball.

I needed to meet this guy,
ASAP
.

Unfortunately, Shelby wasn't too interested in his room and we moved back into the hallway. She traced her finger along a bureau that lined the wall. She looked at her finger and sighed. “This house is so clean there's hardly any dust.”

“You say that like it's a bad thing,” I remarked.

Shelby lowered her face so it was level with the top of the bureau. “Dust can be a detective's best friend—you can see what
wasn't
left behind.”

“So do you have any leads?” Tamra asked, her patience deteriorating.

“A few.”

Shelby dropped back down to the floor and started pacing back and forth like a dog.

“Ah, hello?” a voice called out from the stairs. I turned around and saw Zane. He had a large duffel bag slung around his chest and a basketball in his hand. “Any word on Daisy?”

“None.” Tamra's eyes began to well with tears.

“Don't worry, sis, we'll find—” Zane stopped, his head tilted toward Shelby, who was now sniffing the corner of the bureau.

I needed to do damage control as this was my chance to make friends with someone who wasn't trying to impersonate a dog. “Hey, man, I'm John.”

“Zane.” He jerked his chin at me, and it was eerie how much he looked like Zareen—same profile and almond-shaped eyes, except instead of a mass of curls on his head, he had short hair with a slight wave.
That's
the style I'm going to ask Mr. Washington for when my hair grows out from my buzz cut. “What's up, John? You live in the building?”

“Naw.” I was flattered he thought I could've ever belonged in a place like that. “Just a friend of your sister's.”

“You with her?” He frowned at Shelby, whose backside was sticking up in the air, which I could only assume was her attempt to observe every fiber in the carpet.

“We live in the same building,” I explained. “I only met her two days ago. I'm new here, just moved from Maryland.”

“Cool, you play ball?” Zane threw his basketball at me, which I caught, thankfully. There were picture frames covering the bureau in the hallway, and the last thing I wanted to do was break anything.

“Yeah, man,” I replied nonchalantly, although all I wanted was for him to invite me along. I didn't want to have to wait three more weeks for school to make friends.

Before I could've made any plans with Zane, Tamra
started sobbing. She was looking at a photo she'd picked up from the bureau. “I'm sick thinking that Daisy is out there somewhere and that someone could be hurting her.”

Shelby stood back up and brushed her hands on her shorts. “The person who took Daisy has no intention of hurting her. It was someone she knows.”