Case Closed #2, page 26
We all shake hands with her, and from a few yards away, Louise is staring at us with envy. Then Layla disappears into the studio. We survey the lot outside. The sound crew, camera crew, video editors, and the cast seem relieved—crowds of people chattering excitedly together. Wolfgang is especially boisterous with the journalists. I’m guessing he’s happy that no one he hired was responsible for the kidnapping. Still, even though they weren’t responsible, Guillotine and Brad look annoyed that Layla’s back, and Layla’s mom has been escorted from set. It seems like things at Burbank Studios will go back to normal soon.
“Carlos, come with me,” Mom says, escorting me away from Eliza and Frank. Eliza raises her eyebrows, and my stomach drops. Am I in trouble?
But instead of lecturing me, Mom kisses my head. “Proud of you, hijo,” she says. “You were honest with me, you investigated wisely, and we combined our strengths to work together. You took on a lot of responsibility, and you stepped up to the plate when I needed you.”
“Does this mean you trust me again?” I ask.
“It just might.”
“Does this mean you’ll let me work as a junior detective on another case with you?”
“I just might.” She smiles, and gives my shoulder another squeeze. And even though I’m not a movie star, I still feel like a million bucks.
CASE CLOSED.
LET’S PUSH TUGGLE and Miriam a bit further, just to see how they react.
“You two are working together, aren’t you?” I say. “You both kidnapped Layla.”
“How dare you!” Tuggle splutters, while Miriam Jay bursts into big, blubbering sobs.
“I don’t like where this investigation is going,” she says tearfully.
“Why? Because you’re guilty?”
“How dare you!” Tuggle says again, her chair scraping against the floor as she gets to her feet. “Come along, Miriam. We’re going to have a chat with Wolfgang Westover about this . . . highly unprofessional accusation.”
“Mr. Westover hired us,” Mom says. “He won’t fire us.”
“Oh, yes, he will!” Miriam says through her sniffles. “When we’re done with him. I am Layla’s legal guardian! I can make her do whatever I want, including quit the show if Westover doesn’t fire you.”
They storm out of the room and slam the door behind them.
“You went too far,” Mom says, pinching the bridge of her nose. She can’t seem to meet my eyes. “It’s my fault, really. I shouldn’t have let you take the lead so soon.”
“Wolfgang won’t really listen to them, will he?”
We get our answer twenty minutes later, when Wolfgang comes to find us.
“I’m sorry, Detective Serrano,” Wolfgang says as he takes our badges. “I know they’re bullies, but they have leverage. My hands are tied.”
Mom’s failure with such a high-profile case is the gossip of the detective world. Her business collapses almost instantly. Mom gets a job as a cat walker, pulling reluctant cats down the street on leashes. Mom pulls, even though I was the one who pushed one question too far.
CASE CLOSED.
“I DON’T UNDERSTAND,” I say to Eliza. “What are all these random letters? Why are there so many Zs?”
Eliza is staring so intently at the paper that I swear she’s about to burn a hole through it with her eyes. At last her head pops up, so fast that she hits it on the base of the robot dragon we’re hiding beneath. “Owww!” she howls.
“Do you have it?”
“Have what,” Eliza groans, “the answer or a headache?”
“You don’t need Eliza, because Frank figured it out!” Frank says, shocking me and Eliza both. Is it possible he’s finally growing up to be a brainiac like Eliza? “It’s bee language! Buzzzzzz zzzzzzz zzzzzzzz!”
Okay, maybe not so much. I roll my eyes.
“You’re definitely on to something with the Zs,” Eliza says. “But the opposite—we need to get rid of the Zs.”
I grab a pencil out of Eliza’s backpack. “Let’s go!”
LZAYZLZA CZHZANGZEZDZ ZHERZ BZAZNZKZ ZACCOZUZNT NZUZMBZZZER. ZIT ZIS NOZ ZLONZGZEZR ZOZHZ ZTWZO ZOHZ FZOZZURZ. STZUZCK FOZRZ ZCAZSHZ. IZ ZNZEEZD ZYOZURZ HZELZP. PZLEAZSE WZIREZ MEZ TZWZO THZOUZSZANZDZ DZOZLLZAZRZS FZRZOZZMZ ZZLZAZYZZLZA’SZ ZINZCOMZINGZ PZAYZCHZEZCK.
—YOU KNOW WHO
* * *
WHAT IS THE OLD BANK ACCOUNT PIN NUMBER?
IF YOU THINK THE ANSWER IS 204, CLICK HERE.
IF YOU THINK THE ANSWER IS 240, CLICK HERE.
* * *
I HAVE TO chase her toward the door. Every time she tries to run in a different direction, Frank, Eliza, and I corral her back toward the side door. I feel like we’re cattle dogs, herding a single sheep. We flank her from both sides.
Tuggle knows she’s surrounded. She opens the side door and runs out.
“She’s getting away!” Frank cries.
We follow her outside, and . . .
There are a hundred people standing in the parking lot. Mom, the cast, the crew, everyone who had evacuated the building after the car crash. Tuggle is trying to elbow her way through the crowd.
“STOP HER!” I shout. “SHE KIDNAPPED LAYLA!”
Everyone surrounds her, linking arms Red Rover–style, creating a fence. Tuggle turns around frantically, but she’s enclosed. Caught in a circle—a human jail cell.
Mom runs over to us. “She’s the kidnapper? Where is Layla?”
“Layla’s inside. So is her mom. I think they both need a doctor.”
“I’ll call right away,” Mom says, rushing away with her phone.
We watch as Tuggle thrashes about, throwing a temper tantrum in the middle of the human shield. But none of the cast or crew lets her off the hook. Even Brad Bradley shouts, “I can’t believe what you did to my costar! She is famous!”
“And you threw off my filming schedule,” Guillotine complains. “That’s a lot of extra work you caused me.”
“How dare you hurt Layla!” Louise shouts. “The official president of the unofficial Layla Jay fan club will not stand for this!”
People start shouting at Tuggle, and the inner circle around her gets tighter. Meanwhile, the crew members in the outer circle start lobbing their shoes at her.
Wolfgang Westover comes over to us. “I don’t understand,” he says, rubbing his strong chin. “I thought your mom was the detective.”
“She is,” I say. “And so are we.”
“It runs in the family,” Mom says, rejoining us and putting a hand on my shoulder. And I know, in that moment, that the mistrust and lies are behind us. We’re a united team again. Stronger than ever.
“That’s right,” I say, beaming up at her. “It’s in the genes.”
Two weeks later . . .
It’s a lazy Saturday morning at my house with Eliza and Frank. Winter break is coming, and it’s shaping up to be a relaxing two weeks. But man, I wish it weren’t. I’m already itching for another mystery.
I know the Thompsons don’t feel the same: Eliza is too preoccupied with homework and last-minute-before-break tests to even think about another mystery, and Frank has continued his upbeat no-matter-what attitude.
“Carlos!” Mom says, coming in from outside. “You have a letter.”
A letter? But nobody has my address. . . . Nobody has ever written me before. “Who is it from?”
Mom simply smiles at me and waves the envelope.
I grab it from her hands and look at the return address. Layla Jay.
“Layla . . . is writing me?”
I rip the letter open.
“She’s writing us!” Eliza squeals. “She wrote my name! She knows my name! I’m going to die!”
Dear Carlos, Eliza, and Frank,
“Hey! That’s me!” Frank says, finally catching on.
Thank you so much for saving me. When Tuggle and I argued on November twentieth in the studio, I had no idea that she could ever be capable of kidnapping me and holding me hostage. I had no idea that I needed to watch my back in my own place of work.
Because this case is so high profile, the court is moving the proceedings up to January tenth. Which means I’ll be spending the month of January in court: first, getting my freedom from my mom, and second, making sure Tuggle gets locked away for a long time.
Filming has resumed, of course. Director Chen and Brad are so glad I’ve returned to the set safe and sound. (Not.) But Mr. Westover has my back more than ever, now that I’ve unintentionally brought his show lots of publicity. In three weeks, when we’re done filming Teen Witch season four—and after the court cases, of course—I’m going on a vacation. I surely need it.
Thanks again for all your help. You three are great friends!
“Friends!” Eliza cries. “She called us friends!”
“I am framing this letter!” I shout.
Frank yawns. “Can I have some spaghetti?”
Typical Frank. Spaghetti! At a time like this!
If you ever need anything, just give me a call.
Your pal,
Layla Jay
CASE CLOSED.
THIS CHART IS super hard. Eliza’s busy writing the translated code down in her notebook. I lean closer. If I can just peek over her shoulder, I can see what she’s writing—
“CHEATER CHEATER PUMPKIN EATER!” Frank bellows.
Eliza looks up and laughs. “It’s not cheating if we’re on the same team, Frank!”
“So, did you decode it?” I ask her.
“I think so? I’m on the last sentence. . . .”
I wait for her to finish the last little bit, and then she hands me her notebook. The message on the cave wall reads:
FOREVER WILL YOU STAY HERE, WITCH
IN DARKNESS PLENTY, IN SILENT PITCH
UNLESS YOU HAVE THE SECRET KEY,
THE ONLY WAY THAT YOU CAN FLEE:
A MAGICAL NUMBER, THE STRONGEST OUT THERE
TWICE MORE THAN ALONE; ONCE MORE THAN A PAIR
QUARTER A DOZEN, TRIPLE A ONE,
SHOUT IT OUT, AND YOU ARE DONE.
“IT!” Frank cries.
Eliza and I both turn to stare at him.
“What?” Frank says, grinning in the flashlight beam. “You said shout it, so I shouted IT!”
“That’s not what the riddle meant, and you know it! I . . . Eliza?”
She’s staring up at the cave wall, thoughtfully twirling her braid. “This is starting to come back to me,” she says. “I think I know the number we’re looking for . . . and it’s something we can count on one hand.”
* * *
ADD THREE HUNDRED TO THE SOLUTION TO THIS PUZZLE.
IF YOU THINK THE ANSWER IS 303, CLICK HERE.
IF YOU THINK THE ANSWER IS 313, CLICK HERE.
* * *
WE HAVE TO find Miriam Jay. It takes us a few loops around the set to find her—but we finally see her outside Wolfgang Westover’s office. She’s probably waiting to give him another piece of her mind.
“Who are you?” she says as we approach her.
“Nice to meet you,” I say, holding out my hand to shake. “We’re detectives from Las Pistas Detective Agency, charged with finding your daughter.”
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Miriam says. “I tell Wolfgang to hire the best of the best—that money is no object—and he gives me . . .” She looks us up and down and doesn’t finish the sentence.
“We are the best of the best,” Eliza says coldly. “And we have questions for you.”
“Then shoot,” Miriam says.
Right here in the hallway? Okay, she asked for it. “We need to know what your fight with Layla was about.”
Miriam tenses. Her mouth, especially, gets very tight. “I haven’t the foggiest what you’re talking about.”
“That’s not what we heard.”
“Then you heard wrong. Goodbye,” she says, stomping off down the hall.
We follow.
“If you don’t stop following me, you’ll be sorry.”
“If you tell us what happened between you and Layla, we’ll stop following.”
Miriam heads out the door of Stage Eight, and we follow her next door into Stage Seven, which is bright and warm. There doesn’t seem to be anyone filming, but there are a bunch of hairy, bird-eating, puppy-sized spiders in terrariums on the soundstage.
Face Your Fears! reads the show’s banner.
Miriam puts her hand on top of a terrarium, tilting it threateningly.
“Stop,” I say. “Just talk to us.”
“Be reasonable,” Eliza says.
“You poop face,” Frank adds.
Miriam pauses for a moment. Then out of the blue, she cries, “GET THEM!” and topples the terrarium over. There must be at least five hundred spiders that all swarm toward us. Within seconds, they’re crawling all over us, tickling us to death, while we try to be perfectly still to keep from being spider lunch.
CASE CLOSED.
About the Author
Photo by Jose Hernandez
LAUREN MAGAZINER is the author of the Case Closed series, Wizardmatch, Pilfer Academy, and The Only Thing Worse Than Witches. She is originally from New Hope, Pennsylvania, and she currently lives in Philadelphia, where she writes fulltime. Lauren is also a secret undercover international detective—but don’t blow her cover. You can visit Lauren at www.laurenmagaziner.com.
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Books by Lauren Magaziner
THE CASE CLOSED SERIES
Case Closed: Mystery in the Mansion
Case Closed: Stolen from the Studio
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Copyright
Katherine Tegen Books is an imprint of HarperCollins Publishers.
CASE CLOSED #2: STOLEN FROM THE STUDIO. Copyright © 2019 by Lauren Magaziner. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the nonexclusive, nontransferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse-engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books.
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Cover art © 2019 by Petur Antonsson
Cover design by Andrea Vandergrift
* * *
Library of Congress Control Number: 2018965817
Digital Edition AUGUST 2019 ISBN: 978-0-06-267632-0
Print ISBN: 978-0-06-267630-6
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FIRST EDITION
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CASE CLOSED.
Lauren Magaziner, Case Closed #2
