The Mystery of the Zorse's Mask Page 6

“And tell them someone is trying to break into a store we already broke into? They’ll call the manager, who doesn’t know that his assistant manager left us a key.”

  “A key that didn’t fit,” Becca adds.

  “Which makes us look like thieves,” I say.

  Becca groans. “What’s taking Leo so long anyway?”

  I’m wondering the same thing. I hope he hasn’t done anything dumb, like confront the shadow dude. Leo’s so logical that he forgets to be afraid. I kind of admire that.

  Beside me, I feel Becca trembling. It’s weird how stress has reversed our personalities. Usually Becca is the confident, nurturing one, but now I’m comforting her. And Leo has gone all superhero instead of nerdy sidekick.

  “I really hate the dark,” Becca says as she moves closer to me. “Let’s talk, so I forget to be afraid. Want to hear a secret? Something not even the Sparklers know?”

  Secret—my favorite word. “Tell me.”

  “Okay. But if the other Sparklers knew, they’d tease me. You can’t tell anyone.”

  “I would never do that,” I promise.

  Becca sucks in a deep breath. “I can’t go to sleep at night without a light.”

  “That’s not embarrassing. Lots of people use a night-light.”

  “Do you?” she asks in an eager voice, like she hopes I’ll say yes.

  I love being in the dark (except when a scary shadow dude is outside). Darkness is like an invisible cloak that makes me feel brave and bold. When the lights go out, my other senses heighten; voices come in clearer, smells sharpen, and touch can lead to interesting discoveries.

  Becca is waiting for my answer. I know she’s nervous, so I say, “I have a night-light,” which is true. My night-light is in the bottom of my dresser, still in the box my Aunt Louise gave me for my birthday. I never used it.

  “What does it look like?”

  “Um … just a light bulb.”

  “Mine is supercute. It’s shaped like a dog with a wagging tail that changes colors. The light shines across my walls like a rainbow and … What’s that noise?” Becca suddenly grips my arm. “Did you hear it?”

  “What?” I touch my ear, listening.

  “A scratchy sound,” Becca says.

  I lift my head toward the front of the store. Reflections and shadows waver, and I imagine someone bursting into the store so fast Becca doesn’t have time to call 911.

  My heart pounds, my courage stampeding away. I can’t stop staring at the window, although there’s no one there now. But he may still be out there—and we’re trapped in here.

  We huddle in an aisle between clothing racks. When I shift to get more comfortable, my elbow bumps into something soft. I look up at a distorted face with bloodshot eyes and fangs. I’m ready to scream until I realize it’s just a Halloween mask on a mannequin. The mask is spongy latex, so it really looks eerily real—like a twisted human face. The hanging eye even blinks.

  Who knew a thrift store could be so creepy?

  “I’m freaking out,” Becca confides. “Talk about something not scary.”

  “Like what?”

  “School, kittens, or the Sparklers—we still need a fund-raiser idea.”

  “You said something not scary,” I tease, and when she laughs, her ponytail tickles across my arm. The yellow part of her leopard-print ponytail tie shimmers in the dark—which gives me an idea.

  “We could sell animal-print hair ties,” I suggest.

  “Except the other girls can’t sew.” She looks at me hopefully. “Can you?”

  “No. But you could teach me.”

  “It’ll be quicker to sew them myself.” She sighs. “Chloe has all these big ideas—volunteering to collect canned goods, candy sale fund-raisers, and now we’re manning a booth—but guess who ends up doing the work?”

  I point to her.

  “Tragically true,” she says wearily. “I had already volunteered to help out with the Humane Society Fund-raiser but now I have double the responsibilities. Chloe is too busy bossing everyone around to do actual work. Sophia has drama club practice. And Tyla puts things off until it’s too late. I love the girls, but they make me crazy. That’s why I almost—” Becca breaks off, then leans close to whisper in my ear. “I was going to quit the Sparklers.”

  “Wow,” I say, shocked.

  “I was tired of being bossed around. I get that enough at home. But when I told Chloe, she begged me to stay. I said I would on one condition.”

  “What?”

  I can barely make out her hand pointing toward me. “That you join the Sparklers. All but one person wanted you to join, so we compromised on your becoming a temporary member and helping with the fund-raiser.”

  “Let me guess,” I say. “Tyla voted against me.”

  “Don’t take it personally. She is just naturally disagreeable. But I got my way. And I made sure you had a silver necklace too.”

  Even though I’m trapped inside a store with a scary dude outside, I smile.

  Since Becca confided in me, I want to share with her. So I tell her about losing our home, moving to the apartment, and Dad’s disappointing job search.

  “You must miss your house so much,” she says sympathetically.

  “I miss Handsome more,” I tell her. “But the worse part is that if Dad can’t find a job soon, we’ll have to leave Sun Flower.”

  “No!” She clutches my hand. “I can’t lose both Zed and you.”

  “It may not happen—it all depends on Dad finding a job.” I hesitate. “But he needs help, so I thought we could make finding him a job a CCSC project.”

  “I’d love to help. I’ll ask around about jobs,” she offers. “My friends have friends, who have friends, who have friends—someone is sure to know of a job.”

  “Thanks!” I hug her. “And I’ll tell Leo—”

  “Tell Leo what?” Leo asks as he crouches beside us.

  “You’re safe!” I exclaim, relieved. “What took you so long?”

  “After I locked the back door, I looked out the window but didn’t see anyone. I also made sure the front door was locked.” He tilts his head. “What did you want to tell me?”

  Keeping my voice low, I say, “Well, my dad has been out of work, and I thought maybe the CCSC could help him find a job.”

  “I can look online,” Leo offers. “I’ll limit the search to local—”

  “What was that?” I interrupt and jump at a metallic sound.

  “It came from the back of the store!” Becca cries softly.

  Leo pushes up his night vision goggles and looks around. “Someone’s jiggling the doorknob. It’s locked, but that won’t keep him out long.”

  “That’s it! I’m calling 911.” Light flashes from Becca’s hand as she clicks on her phone. “I don’t care if we get in trouble—we’ll be safer in jail.”

  “They put kids in juvenile hall, not jail,” Leo says.

  “Safer there than in here with a monster outside,” Becca says.

  Her words trigger an idea.

  “Don’t call yet, Becca.” I put my hand over her phone. “I’ll be right back.”

  Before she can argue, I hurry away.

  It’s tempting to turn on my light, but I resist and feel my way down the aisle and over to a familiar table. I sort through a pile until I find what I’m looking for, then feel my way back.

  The back door rattles again, with more force.

  I scoot down between Becca and Leo. “Take these,” I say, then I explain my idea.

  Once we’re ready, we stay close to each other as we feel our way down aisles, until we near the back door.

  The rattling has stopped, replaced with a pinging metallic sound.

  “He’s picking the lock!” Leo whispers.

  “Hurry,” I say, slipping the latex mask over my face. “Let’s do this.”

  “Mine’s on,” Becca answers in a muffled voice.

  Leo drops his goggles, and they clunk on the ground. Then he slips on the mask I c
hoose for him. “I’m ready,” he tells me.

  “Count of three, we go together,” I say in a hushed voice, hoping this works. Because if it doesn’t, the intruder will know we’re here.

  “One … two …” I fit the mask over my face. “Three!”

  We jump to our feet then rush to the back door’s window.

  I’m wearing a zombie mask, Becca is a werewolf, and Leo is a vampire.

  We squash our monster faces against the glass.

  Outside, someone shrieks.

  Chapter 10

  Clue in Blue

  The shriek echoes like an unearthly creature and is completely unidentifiable as man, woman, or kid. I rush to the window and peer through my mask at a shadowy figure hurrying away. The figure falls, staggers up from the ground, then limps off.

  I want to rush after him like the investigators in my spy books. They’d pursue the villain until they took him down, snapped on handcuffs, and hauled him off to jail. But the intruder is probably an adult (maybe carrying a gun or knife), and we’re just kids.

  We stay safely inside the store.

  “He’s gone.” I rip off my itchy mask and turn my flash cap back on, so I can see my friends. “We scared him good.”

  “We sure did.” Becca looks terrifying and hairy in her werewolf mask. “He was so scared, I bet he wet his pants.”

  “The masks were a great idea, Kelsey.” Leo holds his vampire mask out by two fingers. “I’m coming back when the store is open to buy this one for Halloween. I’ll have to practice saying, ‘I vant to suck your blood.’”

  “Zombies prefer brains for lunch.” I jiggle my mask, so the hanging eyeball bobs like a yo-yo.

  Becca takes off her mask. “It’s soft like puppy fur,” she says, running her fingers over the werewolf face like he’s a cute pet she wants to take home.

  Leo presses his hands against the window to peer out. “I wanted to follow him, but according to my calculations, the risks outweighed the results. Did you notice he was limping?”

  “He tripped and fell,” I say, giving the rubbery eyeball a flick with my finger to keep it wobbling. “Either of you get a good look at him?”

  “When I looked for a face—” Becca sucks in a sharp breath. “There was nothing.”

  “He wore a hooded cape or jacket,” Leo guesses. “He probably planned to rob the store.”

  “Why steal secondhand clothes and junk?” Becca asks skeptically.

  “There might be money in the cash register,” Leo replies.

  “I’m glad he couldn’t get in.” I gather the monster masks. “He’s gone now and should we go too.”

  After I return the masks to the costume table, we leave through the back door. The sun has slipped behind the trees, and the chilly air makes me shiver. I don’t need to check my watch to know I’m late. I’ll have to pedal fast to avoid the wrath of Dad.

  But a thought occurs to me, and I point to the doorknob. “The intruder rattled the knob hard. I could dust for fingerprints.”

  “Only if you want to get mine,” Leo says.

  “Mine too,” Becca says, holding up her hands and wiggling her fingers. “There must be hundreds of prints on the door.”

  “And the intruder may have been wearing gloves,” Leo adds.

  “Drats,” I say with a sigh.

  I’m disappointed about my lack of clues—until I spot something blue on the stone turtle’s shell.

  “Look!” I point excitedly. “The intruder dropped a pen.”

  “It could belong to anyone and have been there for weeks,” Leo says.

  Becca shakes her head. “It wasn’t there when I lifted the turtle to get the key.”

  “He must have dropped the pen when he tripped over the turtle,” I say, excitedly digging into my spy pack for my plastic gloves and a baggie. I slip on the gloves, then carefully pick up the pen and shine my cap light onto it. “See! This is a good clue. There’s writing on the side.”

  “What?” Becca asks, peering over my shoulder.

  “I think it’s a business logo.” I squint at the tiny writing. “Desert Sun Train … and another word that’s faded.”

  “Desert Sun Train what?” Leo puzzles, rubbing his chin.

  “I can’t tell,” I say, turning to Becca. “A train store?”

  “We don’t even have a toy store in Sun Flower.”

  “I think it came from far away, somewhere where there’s a desert.” I study the pen in the bright shine of my cap light. The faded word is short, only two or three letters.

  “It could be from anywhere.” Becca slumps her shoulders. “But it doesn’t matter. The intruder has nothing to do with the fly mask. He probably didn’t even know we were inside the store. I wish we could have found the fly mask.”

  “It might still be in the store,” I say. “We could come back tomorrow.”

  Becca shakes her head. “That’s my last full day with Zed. I’m staying with him.”

  “Leo,” I turn to him. “Want to search again in the morning?”

  “Negatory. My parents worked out a schedule so I spend Sundays with Dad. I don’t know where we’re going, but it’ll be good to see Dad again,” he says wistfully.

  “There’s nothing we can do here anyway. The mask is gone,” Becca says. “Someone probably bought it weeks ago.”

  She’s right, but I hate giving up—especially when I have a cool clue.

  I carefully seal the blue pen in a protective baggie and label it “Evidence A.” Not that it matters. Finding the intruder’s identity won’t help us find the fly mask.

  Coming here was a complete waste of time.

  Fly mask mission: fail.

  Sunday morning, I check my email and there’s an attachment from Leo with a list of local jobs for my father: a hotel concierge, postal clerk, pest exterminator, animal control officer, and mortician’s assistant.

  I can’t wait to tell Dad about these cool jobs, so I run downstairs and find him mixing batter for berry-spice crepes. But when I show him the list, he isn’t impressed. “Pest control? A mortician’s assistant?” He shakes his head. “I work with food. Not bugs or animals or dead people.”

  “But you need a job,” I point out.

  “Thanks but no thanks, Kels.” He kisses my forehead, his eyes sad.

  “At least keep the list and think about it.”

  “All right.” The paper waves in his hand as he sets it aside on the counter. “But I’ll find a job on my own.”

  Will it be in Sun Flower? I want to ask, but if I do, then he’ll know I overheard his conversation with Mom.

  Dad goes back to cooking our traditional Sunday brunch, ignoring the paper. He’ll probably toss it in the trash once I leave.

  This did not go well, I think as I slump to my room. But I’m not giving up until I find the right job for Dad.

  In the meantime, I have a clue to figure out.

  I shut my bedroom door and lock it because my sisters have a habit of bursting in without knocking. I set my spy pack on my bed, then unzip a narrow side pocket and take out the baggie with my blue clue.

  It’s important to always bag evidence. I slip on plastic gloves, then carefully take out the blue pen and place it on my desk. My fingerprinting kit and magnifying glass are ready.

  The pen looks ordinary and inexpensive. It could be just a random pen, no importance at all. Or it could be the clue that leads to the intruder’s identity.

  I shine my desk lamp on the pen to study it. It’s six inches long, with a dark-blue cap that’s been chewed on. I deduce the ink is black by scribbling the word “clue” on a piece of paper. The printed logo runs from the bottom to the cap: Desert Sun Train … and a faded third word.

  Lifting my magnifying glass, I try to make out the tiny writing. The first letter looks like it might be an l, b, or d. The second letter looks round and is most likely a vowel. I have no idea whether there’s another letter or it’s just a smudge.

  For more info, I’ll need the computer.
But when I go into the living room, my sisters are already there, their dark-brown heads bent close as they giggle over photos—all photos of shirtless guys with six-pack abs.

  When my sisters finally get off the computer, Dad announces breakfast is ready. The crepes are delicious.

  When I finally sit at the computer, I run a local search for “Desert Sun Train.”

  No train businesses, not even a train station. And nothing called “Desert Sun.” And why would there be? Sun Flower isn’t near the desert. So I spread out my search to southern California, and the results include a newspaper and nudist colony in Palm Springs (hundreds of miles south). The closest hit I find for Desert Sun is a tanning salon thirty miles away. The faded word in the pen could be “tan” but that has nothing to do with a train. Still, it can’t hurt to check it out. I try the phone number but get a recording saying they’re closed on Sundays. (Why can’t the rest of the world realize that detectives work seven days a week?)

  Frustrated enough to throw the computer out the window, I power it down and grab a Frisbee.

  A short bike ride later, I roll up to my grandmother’s door.

  “I was hoping you’d visit,” Gran Nola says as she invites me in. She’s wearing purple tights and a black exercise suit, and her hair is pulled back in a knot. She teaches yoga but not usually on the weekends.

  “Did I interrupt anything?” I ask, glancing around but not seeing anyone else.

  “No, just working on my Shooting Bow and Dolphin Plank pose. But I’m ready for a break. I’ve missed you this week—and so has Handsome.”

  “Sorry, I meant to come, but I’ve been busy.”

  “With your new friends?” she asks, opening the fridge and offering me a chilled berry drink.

  “Yeah,” I answer.

  “Tell me about them,” she says, leading me into the living room, where we take our usual seats (recliner for her and couch for me).

  Gran Nola is so cool. I can tell her anything—except secrets. So I tell her about Becca being sad because Zed is leaving and how Leo is so smart, he designs robots, but I don’t mention the kittens, clubhouse, or CCSC.

  “Poor Becca,” Gran Nola says. “It’s always hard to let go of a pet.”

  I nod. “At least when I had to give up Handsome, he didn’t move far away.”