A Recipe for Robbery (12 page)

C
ricket looked up from the pedicure table where she was arranging nail polish. I have to say, she seemed as surprised as I was. “Oh, my God! Are you sure it's your egg?”

“Certainly it's my egg,” Mrs. Grimstone said. “I've examined it thoroughly. It's one of only six Pitayas of its kind, all of them stolen from me on Tuesday. Let me tell you, I'm absolutely over the moon about this recovery. Of course it needs to be cleaned. What a sight. Turtle droppings all over it. I'll have Howard take it to my jeweler.”

Cricket mumbled as though she were talking to
herself. “I can't believe it. They found it in the crazy woman's
turtle
pen?”

I checked over my shoulder to make sure no one was watching before opening the curtain a hair wider.

“Are you not feeling well, Cricket?” Mrs. Grimstone said. “Honestly, you look white as a ghost.”

“Oh, I'm fine. Just completely shocked, you know, to think a thief is living two doors down from me. But yeah, this is fantastic news. Did they find all the heirlooms at the goose lady's?”

“No, and that's the problem,” Mrs. Grimstone said. “Evidently—and this is to go no farther than these four walls, as the police don't want it out yet—she's denying any involvement. Can you imagine? They caught her red-handed. Now didn't I insist all along that woman was behind this? That's
exactly
what I told Howard. I said, ‘Howard, that goose nut has something to do with this.'”

“Sounds like she's your thief, all right,” Cricket said. “Where do you suppose the police will go from here?”
They better go straight next door to Simply Paris, I wanted to yell, because that's where the real perp is. Instead, I bit my tongue and opened the curtain wider.

“I haven't the faintest notion,” Mrs. Grimstone said. She leaned toward a mirror on the wall, picking something off her lip. “I certainly hope she confesses soon. I'm desperate to have those pieces returned.”

I closed the curtain and eased my way toward the front door.

“You won't believe what's happened,” I said when I joined Gus in the alley.

After I told him, he shook his head, looking disappointed. “Man, I wish we could've gotten back in her yard and hidden that egg. The only thing we can do now is make sure this afternoon's plan is one hundred percent foolproof.”

We headed back to the festival midway where we lost at a bunch of dart games, ate more kettle corn, and rode the Sizzler three times. We even talked about stuff that didn't have anything to do with heirlooms or perps
or NSCCB, like school and Gus's funny French relatives. He cracked me up with some of the stories he told.

Then we started talking about concert band and how much fun camp was going to be. “I really want to get picked for the governor's concert,” he said, “but I doubt if I do. I'm not near as good a musician as you.” I felt my face turn pink. Gosh, if I was good enough for Gus to notice, maybe I did have a chance of playing for the governor.

“Aw, you'll probably get picked,” I said, trying to build up his confidence a little, but truthfully, I wasn't all that sure about those odds. I'd never heard anyone squeak so much on an instrument as Gus.

“I wish it was you playing in the finale trio today,” he said. “You're way better than Angel—nicer, too. I can hardly stand practicing with her. All she does is criticize me.”

We bought curly fries and killed more time shooting darts at the midway, and then I remembered Mom's birthday. “Let's go to the craft tents.
I've got to find something for my mom.”

We sped by the tents with quilts and lawn ornaments, heading straight for the jewelry. Gus helped me pick out a tiny pair of earrings from a Native American vendor. “These are way cool,” he said. “Turquoise. My mom always liked turquoise.”

He turned his head, but I'd seen that his eyes were glistening. All of a sudden my heart hurt for Gus—for the loneliness he must've felt every single night, when it was just him and his memories and that big dark sky.

I traced a figure eight in the sand with the toe of my flip-flop. “I bet your mom looked really pretty in turquoise, you know, with her dark hair and everything.”

“Yeah,” he said. “She did.”

I paid for the earrings and tucked them safely down in my pocket, thinking how they were double extra special, in honor of two great mothers—Gus's and mine. “Thanks for helping pick these out,” I said. “My mom's going to love them.”

By then I'd spent every last cent of my money,
so Gus bought both our sodas. I checked his watch. Eleven: time to call Margaret. I found a pay phone outside the courthouse.

Luckily, her parents had just gotten home and she was off the hook from baby-sitting. “We'll meet you by the bingo tent,” I said.

“Did you find the you-know-what?” she whispered.

“No, but we've got lots to tell you.”

“Like what? You're getting along okay with Gus, aren't you?”

“Yeah. You were right. He really is funny. Nice, too.”

“What all did you do?” she said, and I thought I detected a hint of something familiar—jealousy maybe?—in her voice.

“I can't go into it now, but it's big.”

“Gosh. That's not fair. I can't believe I got stuck home with the twins while you guys had all the fun.”

I didn't say it, but I was thinking that it hadn't been exactly a barrel of laughs when I'd nearly gotten
busted as an impostor. “Just hurry up and get down here, okay?”

She made it in five minutes, and she oohed and aahed and held her hand over her mouth while Gus and I told her everything that'd happened, but I seriously thought she was going to have a heart attack when we got to the part about the egg and Granny Goose.

“Oh…no.” She clutched her chest, the color draining from her face. “We've got to get over to her house and see what's happening. At least we can help out with the animals or something.”

Gus and I agreed to go along, but truthfully, I worried Granny Goose wouldn't even be there, that she'd already been fingerprinted and booked at the Bloomsberry police station. Or what if the cops were tearing through her house at this very moment, searching for the rest of the heirlooms?

O
n our walk across town we went over our strategy for the four o'clock meeting between Leonard and François. “We'll get there early,” Gus said, “and wait in the alley for—”

“Wait a minute,” Margaret said. “We've got that stupid finale. Mr. Austin said our trio will start around three-fifteen.”

Gus shrugged. “No problem. We'll be done way before four.”

“I think two of us should sneak in the kitchen door again,” I said. “And then one of us”—probably Margaret, because she was still the most scared—
“can stay outside, in case of an emergency.”

“Right,” Gus said. “If they meet in François' office, we'll eavesdrop outside the door. Since the café's closing for patio work, I bet no one else will be there.”

I stopped on the sidewalk. “What if François' fiancée, Greta, is there? That'll mess everything up.”

Gus shook his head. “Nah, no way she's involved. There's less than a thirty percent chance he'd tell his fiancée he's a crook.”

“Okay,” Margaret said. “So what happens if they meet on the patio, instead of in the office?”

“You can watch through the fence posts. Lindy and I'll try to get a good view of them from the inside, maybe find a window that looks out onto the patio,” Gus said. “I'll have my dad's cell. As soon as we get some proof, either by hearing something or photos, it's a quick nine-one-one.”

He seemed to think our upcoming rendezvous would play out like a first-grade math problem, and I went along with him, acting all brave about
everything. Deep down, though, I wasn't so sure. I couldn't put my finger on it, but all of a sudden I had this nagging worry that something might go wrong. Something big.

I tried to ignore my growing doubts as Margaret and I headed up Granny Goose's porch steps. Margaret rang the doorbell, and just like the last time, we didn't get an answer. I peeked inside the window again. Other than Doris the duck, nestled on the couch, there wasn't any sign of activity.

Gus ran around from the side of the house and joined us on the porch. “The backyard gate's locked,” he said. “They must have her down at headquarters.”

“Oh, this is so awful,” Margaret said. “And unfair, too. I can't believe they're arresting an innocent person. What about Pickles? Who's going to take care of her? She needs lots of attention, you know. She's just a helpless animal.”

“I bet Granny Goose called her son to help,” I said, trying to make Margaret feel better. “I remember her
saying he lives in Orlando. He's a veterinarian.”

That calmed her down a little, and we'd just decided to leave when we heard the honk. It came from the direction of Cricket's house.

Margaret snapped her head around. “That's Pickles.”

“AAAGH! GET BACK! GET AWAY FROM ME, YOU—YOU BEAST!”

“Hold on!” Margaret shouted. She flew down the steps and across the lawn toward Cricket's, yelling the whole way, “Don't worry, I'll get her. Here, Pickles, Pickles. Here, good girl.”

By the time Gus and I made it to Cricket's yard, Margaret already had Pickles scooped into her arms. “Wittle bitty baby was scared, wasn't her?” she cooed. “But don't you worry one wittle bit, 'cause Auntie Margo's gonna take care of you.”

Pickles bobbed her neck and made some kind of weird, gargling sound. Her leash hung from the harness around her body, and a shiny, SureFresh mint tin was clamped in her bill.

Cricket stood by a small storage shed at the side of her house, clutching a Shear Magic duffel bag against her chest. She jabbed her finger at Pickles. “Oh, my God. That hideous thing nearly pecked my eyes out. I was in my shed getting supplies when it flew at me from out of nowhere. It got my mints.”

I worked the SureFresh tin out of Pickles's mouth and handed it to Cricket. “Sorry about that. She likes shiny stuff.”

“I don't care what she likes. Just get her away from me—
now
!” She took a couple of deep breaths, eyeing me with a “what are you doing back here” kind of expression. “Snooping again—after our little talk? I thought we had an understanding. I have your mom's number at the shop, you know.”

“Oh, we're absolutely not snoopers,” Margaret said. “We just stopped by to visit Mrs. Unger, but she's not home. You don't happen to know where she is, do you?”

“I've got a pretty good idea, but I'm not at liberty to say.” Cricket headed toward the front of her house, calling over her shoulder, “Make sure that goose stays out of my yard.”

I patted Pickles on the head as we left Cricket's. “What are we supposed to do with her now? Granny Goose is gone, maybe in jail”—Margaret winced when I said that—“and Pickles is locked out of the yard.”

“We'll take her with us,” Margaret said. “She's a good goose, aren't you, Pickles? She has her leash on, so she won't get lost.” Pickles paced back and forth between us, bobbing her head and making soft, gurgling noises. I couldn't help feeling sorry for her, especially since she might not have a home much longer.

I thought maybe I should prepare Margaret for the worst. “You know, Granny Goose might not come home tonight. What do you want to do about Pickles if that happens?”

“She'll spend the night at my house. Won't you, baby?”

“Suppose Granny Goose is gone, you know, like more than a night? Like, maybe, for way more than a night.”

Margaret's chin jutted out. “I'll keep her for good then. I'll take Doris the duck, too.”

I
checked Gus's watch as soon as we got back to the courthouse square. Eleven-fifty. I was due at the Tarts' tent at noon to help set up for the afternoon fish fry and the festival finale. I couldn't chance being late and irritating my mom; otherwise, she might nix my plans for the rest of the day.

Gus called Granny Goose's from the courthouse pay phone. He left a message on her machine that we had Pickles, and then we met my mom at twelve on the dot.

“This is a feather in your cap, Miss Lindy,” Mom said, smiling. “Right on time. I guess you haven't been
up to anything too outrageous today. And would one of you like to tell me why you have Evelyn's goose?”

“We're helping Mrs. Unger out this afternoon,” Margaret said, patting Pickles's head.

“Well, I guess that explains it then.” From the way Mom smiled, I figured she hadn't heard the latest on Granny Goose.

She gave me detailed instructions for the setup: “don't do this,” and “be sure to do that,” and “don't leave before you do this.” It sounded like I'd be busy for hours.

Margaret and Gus offered to help. “We have to leave for our instruments around two, though,” Margaret said. “Remember, we have that dress rehearsal before the finale.”

She looked over her shoulder at Gus, then mouthed to me, “Squeaking problem.”

I didn't doubt that one bit.

The four of us, counting Pickles, who was practically attached to Margaret at the hip by now, arranged tables and chairs and hung banners. We went over
our plans, too. Gus kept assuring Margaret and me that everything would work out fine. “It'll be so cool,” he said. “I can't wait to see the looks on those guys' faces when they get nabbed.”

We were taking a lunch break when Mr. Austin stopped by our table.

“Glad I found you,” he said. And then he put one arm around Gus and the other around Margaret, which of course didn't leave an arm for me. “You two haven't forgotten about your performance with Angel today, have you?”

“We haven't forgotten,” Margaret said. “Courthouse at two-thirty for the practice, right?”

“Uh, excuse me, Mr. Austin,” I said. “We have a little something to do at around three forty-five. You think they'll be finished by then?”

He pulled a schedule out of his back pocket. “Let's see. The tap dancers are on at three-thirty, and the trio is right before that, so it looks as if your friends will be good to go in plenty of time.”

“How come you have to leave so early, Lindy?” trilled a snooty voice from behind me. “Do you have a date?” Angel scooted up beside Mr. Austin. She had on the same pink princess gown as this morning, and she was swinging a sleek, shiny flute at her side. Angel flashed the flute in my face, smirking like Pixie after she's polished off a can of tuna. “Grammy had it sent from Germany. They make superexpensive flutes over there, you know.”

Germany Schmermany. I stuffed a handful of potato chips in my mouth.

“It's very nice, Angel,” Mr. Austin said, smiling at her. “Okay, Gus. I'll see you and Margaret at practice. Make sure you have a good reed.”

“Oh. Uh, yeah. No problem. I've got a couple of new ones in my case.”

“Great. See you later.” Mr. Austin took off across the lawn.

As soon as he was gone, Angel leaned into her friend Caroline's ear. “Mr. Austin forgot to tell the
sexy-phone player to bring two hundred sets of earplugs,” she said in a fake whisper. “Because the audience is going to need them once he starts squeaking.”

“Oh, yeah? Well they're going to need heavy-duty nose plugs when you play. Because you totally stink,” I said.

“Shut…up. The only thing that stinks around here is you,” Angel said, “and that stupid goose.”

Okay, that did it. She didn't need to go insulting an innocent animal. I brushed a piece of shortcake off the table, next to the Princess's foot, then snapped my fingers and tugged at Pickles's leash. Like a cyclone, she blew out from under the table and went straight for Angel's ankles.

Gus, Margaret, and I cracked up laughing as the Princess ran across the lawn, screaming her head off.

After we'd finished eating, the three of us dragged more chairs from the courthouse, lining them in rows for the festival finale. It seemed like everyone in Bloomsberry but me would be performing today:
ballet dancers, baton twirlers, the Cucumber Jazz Quartet. Even the Senior Squares were scheduled for a line dance.

At two, Gus and Margaret left for their instruments so they could make it back in time for their final rehearsal. When they raced across the lawn with Pickles, jealousy poked at my chest like an icicle. Once again they were doing something without me. I straightened rows of chairs, helped Mom set out condiments, and sliced cucumbers for the salad.

The whole time I worked I tried to forget about not being a part of the trio. I tried not to be resentful of Angel, who was playing
my
part in
my
favorite concert piece with
my
friends. Instead, I focused on the upcoming rendezvous. I kept reminding myself that in just a few hours the three of us would be way more than a small festival act. We'd be town heroes. We'd be rich. And I'd have a chance to play in a way more important concert—that one in Tallahassee.