The Odds of Getting Even, page 21
Thes strolled in. “Hey,” he said, smiling. “How’s that last puppy?”
Miss Lana says people like pets like themselves. “The puppy is unreasonably optimistic and has a round head,” I said. “Sorry we’re late. Miss Lana says you have a clue for us.”
“An excellent one,” he told us, leading us to a bathroom at the back of the church. “Daddy pays me to tidy up. Last night I found this in that vase.” He grabbed a ceramic Garden of Eden vase on a table by a small window, and emptied out a red-brown button.
“The thief came in here,” Harm said, examining the window. He squinted at a thread dangling from the button. “I bet this matches our windowsill thread.”
“It’s off a hunting jacket,” Thes said. “I could have given it to Starr.”
Come on, Dale, I thought. Give him a puppy.
“Thanks, Thes,” Dale said, and headed for the front door.
Thes hurried to catch up. “About that puppy . . .”
We stepped into the twilight and froze.
A coyote slipped like a ghost-dog from the cemetery—thin, hungry, razor-eyed. It shadowed the edge of the churchyard as another slipped from the tombstones, and another from the brush at the edge of the field. Another, and another.
“They’re hunting,” Dale whispered.
In the center of the churchyard, a twitch of orange.
Spitz!
Spitz looked at us, his orange fur puffed, his eyes electric with fear.
The coyotes howled like creatures possessed.
“No!” Thes screamed, and hurled himself from the porch. He dashed for Spitz, his legs pumping as the coyotes charged. “Spitz!” Thes shrieked, grabbing the cat and snatching him to his chest. The coyotes skidded to a halt, eyes glinting.
Before I could think, I’d leaped off the porch with Harm and Dale and run to Thes, shouting and waving my arms as we ran. “Get out of here! We ain’t scared! Get!”
We surrounded Thes, facing the coyotes. “Get!”
The lead coyote stared at us thin and ragged as winter’s wind.
He took a slow step back and faded into the graveyard. The others followed, melting among tombstones, slipping into the brush and trees along the river.
We turned to Thes. He gasped for breath, his green eyes round as Spitz’s.
“That was brave, what you did,” Dale told him.
“Right,” Thes said, his voice shaking. “I don’t know what came over me.”
Chapter 27
Lavender’s Leaving
By the time the Supper Rush rolled around, I’d gone bone tired and Lavender’s news had swept the town. “Lavender’s leaving?” an Azalea Woman said. “The nerve! Who will take care of our cars?”
Sometimes I say I’d like to give the Azalea Women a piece of my mind. The Colonel says they wouldn’t know what to do with it.
I polished off my collard bisque. “Lavender’s being recruited by All-Star Repair Teams in Greenville and Kinston,” I said. “You can push a car that far if you work together.”
“Mo,” Little Agnes called from her place with Hannah. “Thanks for the books.”
Miss Lana waltzed over. “I lent her your oldies, sugar. Cinderella, Alice in Wonderland, The Little Prince.”
“Happy reading, Little Agnes,” I said as Sal bustled in.
“Mo,” Sal said, her eyes sparkling, “we need to talk.” The Azalea Women’s ears perked up. “We’d better take this to your flat,” she whispered.
The Colonel smiled. “Go ahead, Soldier. You need some rest.”
“Is Dale here?” Sal asked, her voice hopeful.
“We’ll call him,” I said. “Come on.”
By the time Harm and Dale arrived, Sal had the evidence stretched out in long neat chains along the length of my bed. Our letters now sported sticky notes and paper clips.
“I could use a laser pointer if you have a spare, Mo.”
A laser pointer? Do people own those?
“Mine’s temporarily unavailable due to the fact that I don’t have one,” I said.
“That’s okay, Mo.” She took a sip of water. “These 2-6 style messages are from Capers,” she said, pointing to the first row of notes. “You can see her working out the words. These are her rough drafts. I believe she mailed the final versions. I worked out the messages—here, on the pink sticky notes.”
“Very nice,” Dale murmured, and Sal blushed.
“The second row holds letters from Shell—the Lemon Juice Code.” She gazed into Dale’s eyes. “According to my research, World War II spies used book codes. Any book works if both people have the exact same book. Like Mo and Capers have the same dictionary, which is why we could crack these. I put Shell’s messages on the blue sticky notes. I’ll read you the most important ones.”
I am in. I will wait on you.
Babe
Doubt clears your debt to me. The odds of getting even are in our favor.
Shell
Flick is too stupid, need better help.
Babe
No one to send, improvise.
Shell
Everything done but murder. Bank shot no good, pattern broken. Advise.
Babe
Lavender’s heart rules everyone. Try him again. Fire? Shell
I gasped. “Fire! That’s an order to set the garage fire.”
Sal’s eyes filled with tears. “I’m afraid so.”
“But why? Who’s Shell?” Dale asked, his voice shaking.
“The why’s in the message,” Harm said. “Lavender’s heart rules everyone—all of you. Because you love him so much. Hurting him would hurt every single one of you. But what did you ever do to Shell and Capers?” he asked, staring at me.
Sal plucked a last paper from her file—the parking lot letter from Capers’s first day in town. “I think this holds your answer.”
She placed the paper, with its orange sticky note, on my bed.
Find those who put me in this cage. Create the doubt that sets your sister free. Revenge is icing on the cake. Shell
“Sets your sister free?” I gasped, grabbing the note. “Shell is Capers’s sister?”
“Deputy Marla Everette is the only girl we’ve put in a cage,” Dale said. “We put her in jail. And marl is ancient shell, like in the marl pit on the way to the fish camp. Remember?” he asked Harm. “I taught you that.”
“Shell. Marl. Marla,” Sal said, slipping her hand into Dale’s. “Oh Dale, you’re a genius, only disguised as . . . you.”
He squeezed her hand. “Thanks, Salamander. You’re smart too.”
Harm studied the notes. “You’re both terrifyingly bright. But is this proof? We may need more than this to tie Capers to Marla.”
“DNA proves kinship,” I said, heading for my reject trash from Capers’s room and dumping it on my desk.
“Ick,” Sal muttered as I pawed through the garbage.
“Here.” Harm plucked strands of red hair from the litter. He held it up to the light. “Red hair with . . . black roots. Perfect.”
Sal took a new envelope from her satchel and held it open. “The prison will have Marla’s DNA on file. Skeeter and I can try to rush an analysis through.” She bit her lip as she glanced at my clock: eight p.m. “It will be costly, Desperados, if it’s even possible.”
“Done,” Dale said. He slipped up beside me and whispered: “We don’t want to look cheap.”
I sighed. If we didn’t solve this case soon, Sal would own the agency.
Dear Upstream Mother,
I clued the Colonel and Miss Lana in tonight after Sal left.
“Capers will be back tomorrow,” the Colonel said. “I’ll keep an eye on her.”
The Big Reveal is tomorrow at 5. You’re invited.
I’d hoped to get us out of school, but Miss Retzyl says if we’re truant again, we’re academic toast.
With sleep tonight and school tomorrow, we have lots of details to tie up and not much time.
Fingers crossed on the DNA evidence.
Mo
PS: Lavender’s leaving Tupelo Landing. A lost heart is a very hard thing to find.
Chapter 28
The Big Reveal
The next morning we settled into our desks, exhausted from the last two days of investigation, and nervous about the Big Reveal ahead. I raised my hand.
“Excuse me, Miss Retzyl,” I said, “the Desperados adore classwork, but we feel like the town’s safety maybe tops our love of math. I hope you’re civic-minded enough to give us a day off to prepare our five p.m. Big Reveal at the café for your boyfriend, because—”
“There are no days off in sixth grade, Mo,” she said, her voice icy. She looked at Dale. “And I am so glad you’re feeling better after yesterday’s stomach upset, Dale.”
Sarcasm. We were doomed.
“Thank you,” Dale said, and gently burped.
“Please take out your spelling books,” she said.
I raised my hand. “Excuse me. I left a message at your house, but I haven’t heard from Joe Starr yet.”
She closed her eyes. “Joe’s working. I’m sure he’ll be at your Reveal. Spelling books. Now.”
We whipped out our books and set up shop.
Behind his spelling book, Dale worked on his remarks for the Big Reveal.
Harm, who’d stayed up late worrying about our iffy evidence, stared straight ahead, but from the rasp of his breathing, I knew he was dead asleep.
As for me, I reviewed our evidence and hoped Skeeter would pop in to say Starr had called about the Fish Camp Loot, or the lab had called with good news on our DNA.
She didn’t.
The lunch bell rang and I shot to the door. “Hurry, Desperados,” I said. “Skeeter’s office, now. Time’s running out.”
Dale unwrapped his sandwich as Skeeter slid her phone to me. “I’m sorry, Desperados. Our lab says four days to confirm sibling DNA. They’re searching for a faster lab now and they’ll call if they find one. If their call comes, it will be at the end of the day. Feel free to use the phone.”
I dialed. “911? This is Mo LoBeau with an emergency. Tell Joe Starr to bring Mr. Macon’s hunting jacket and the Fish Camp Loot to the Big Reveal this afternoon . . . Sure, you’re invited too. Bring your friends. Five p.m. at the café.”
I hung up and looked at Harm. “Did you call Flick?”
“Yes, but I’ll remind him.” He dialed. “Flick, don’t forget. Gramps has some cash for you . . . I don’t want you to miss out. Five o’clock. Be there or lose out . . . big.”
“Now we got everybody but Capers,” I said. “She should be back by now.”
Dale nibbled his sandwich. “A story would be good Capers bait,” he suggested.
I made one last call.
“Café, Lana speaking,” Miss Lana said.
“Miss Lana, it’s Mo. I’m strictly ad-lib, so work with me.”
“Fine,” she said. “Go ahead with your order.”
“Is Capers back yet?”
“Yes,” she said. “We have that. But it’s selling out fast.”
Selling out fast?
“Leaving town?” I gasped. “Don’t let her go. Tell her we have Mr. Macon in custody and can prove he did every single crime. She can have an exclusive interview after the Big Reveal. But watch your back, Miss Lana. She’s dangerous.”
“Thank you,” she said, and hung up.
“I would enjoy making a call,” Dale said. “To the Azalea Women.”
The Azalea Women?
I handed him the phone. “Hello, this is Dale,” he said. “We’ve captured Daddy and he’s in jail for all the town’s crimes plus more. . . . That’s right. I turned him in for the reward money because that’s the kind of boy I am. We’ll explain everything at five p.m. at the café, and I knew you’d want a good seat.”
Excellent.
The news will be all over town in two minutes flat.
Finally the end-of-day bell rang, and we sprinted for our bikes.
We pushed into the café at four p.m., straight up. Just one hour to go.
Capers sat at a window table, the Colonel watching her like a hawk watches a rabbit. “Thank heavens she’s here,” Harm said, putting our evidence crate on a table. “I just wish Starr would let us know about the loot. Or that the lab would call.” He shook his head. “And where’s Flick?”
The Azalea Women bustled in and pushed their tables together.
Outside, Lavender pulled up in the GMC.
Tupelo Landing without Lavender, I thought. My heart fell like a stone.
Lavender strolled in holding a large cardboard box, Queen Elizabeth on his heels. “I invited Queen Elizabeth and the pups,” Dale explained, heading for his brother. “It’s good for the pups to meet everybody. And they can see us in action.”
Hannah and Little Agnes grabbed seats at our evidence table.
“Lavender,” an Azalea Woman called, “I hear you’re leaving us. What a pity.”
Lavender stared at her just long enough to wilt her smile. “You hear all kinds of things,” he said. “Doesn’t mean they’re true. Where you want the pups, little brother?”
“Over here,” Dale said, slapping an OUT OF ORDER sign on the jukebox. Lavender gently placed the box by the old Wurlitzer and Liz stepped in, one careful foot at a time.
Skeeter and Sal bustled in together. “Did the lab call?” I asked.
Sal shook her head. “We tried,” she whispered, turning her back to Capers. “I asked them to call me here if they learn anything, but don’t count on it.”
Crud.
Lavender sauntered over, smiling his old smile. “Mo,” he said, “do you have a minute?”
At least he has his shine back, I thought.
Used to, I always had a minute for Lavender. But used to, I would be going out with him in just seven more years.
“Sorry,” I said. “I got a Big Reveal to set up.”
Harm grabbed the photo folder. “Shoot,” he muttered. “We left half our photos in your filing cabinet.”
“I got it,” I said, and pounded out the door.
I blasted through the crowded parking lot and pelted into my flat. I grabbed the forgotten file and darted out.
Lavender stood waiting on the porch. “Mo, I need to talk to you,” he said, falling in beside me. “I wanted you to be the first to know. Well, the second really. I just told Dale. I’ve decided to buy Miss Thornton’s old store—a little at a time.”
I skidded to a halt. “You’re staying?”
He nodded. “Mo, I’ve tried all my life to be better than Macon. The other night at Miss Thornton’s I just . . . wasn’t. And you’re right,” he said. “I was running—from the shadow of Macon left inside me. It takes a good friend to tell you the truth, Mo. Thank you for being that friend for me.”
Me. A friend to Lavender.
I smiled. “The Desperados can help you whip that old store into a garage. I’ll send over the painting division.”
He laughed. “You’re on, Miss LoBeau. The Colonel tells me Miss Lana needs a night clerk at the inn—until I get the garage going. I think I’ll be fine.”
The Colonel and Miss Lana never let me down.
A dark blue Volvo wheeled into the parking lot and parked by the Underbird. Bill Glasgow jumped out and popped his Stetson on. He reached into the backseat and pulled out a pet carrier.
A kitten? A hamster? Interesting.
Miss Rose slipped out the passenger side wearing a bright red coat.
A red coat? What happened to her sensible gray coat?
“Miss Rose got a date coat,” I said. “She looks good.”
“Darned good,” Lavender said.
“I better get inside,” I told him. I hesitated. “I’m glad you’re staying. I’ll PR the grand opening of your garage, if you want me to. When it’s time, I mean.”
He grinned. “Once again, you’re on.”
Then I said what I’ve said maybe a million times before. “Give me half a chance and I’d snatch you up and marry you before sundown, Lavender. That’s no lie.”
The words felt sweet to me, like a half-forgotten voice singing a lullaby.
He grinned his old grin. “Me? Marry you? You’re a baby,” he said. He messed up my hair and headed for Miss Rose.
Lavender always settles my heart, even when he’s walking away.
By the time I strolled into the café, the place was packed. Bill Glasgow was working his way through the clump of kids gathered around the puppies.
“Clear the way for Miss Rose’s boyfriend,” I shouted. “Step aside.”
“Thanks, Mo. Hey, Dale,” Bill said. “How are the pups?”
“Cute,” Dale said.
Bill handed Dale the carrying case. “Dale, meet Madame Curie. Your mama and I thought she might keep Newton from being lonely. Like her?”
Does Dale like a hideously unattractive newt whose skin oozes toxins like Attila oozes mean? Of course he likes her.
“Thanks,” Dale said. “I never thought of Newton feeling lonely.”
Bill Glasgow smiled. “You know, I’ve been thinking about Newton’s terrarium. Newts are awfully sensitive to pH—acidity. I was thinking . . .”
I walked away. Miss Lana says it’s best not to know the end of some sentences. This sounded like one of them.
I hurried to our files. Capers placed her hands on her table as she watched Harm and me deal our photos around. “Nice gloves,” I told her, glancing over. “Are they new?”
She placed her hands back in her lap. “Got them in Raleigh.”
