A Recipe for Robbery (16 page)

I
reached in my pocket and pulled out the photo of Angel playing her flute. “Umm,” I said, holding it up for Officer Moore to see. “Could this have anything to do with the puzzle?”

“Hey!” Henry said. “That picture came from the heart I found in our garage.”

“A heart in our garage? What on earth are you kids talking about?” My mom leaned over to get a look at the photo in my hand. “Why, that's Angel Grimstone's picture.” She narrowed her eyes at me. “I think you have some more explaining to do here, young lady.”

Margaret jumped up from her seat. “It's all my fault, Mrs. Phillips. Really. I begged Lindy to hide the locket after we found it in the cucumbers because I was scared everyone would blame Granny Goo—I mean, Mrs. Unger, for stealing the heirlooms, and then we put it in your garage behind the Grubb's grime remover because Lindy said her dad wouldn't see it there because he never cleans anything. But Henry found it and—”

“Okay.” Officer Moore cleared his throat again. “Let's take it slow and easy, kids. From the beginning, please.”

“Actually,” Gus said, “it all began with the goose…”

 

Of course Gus got top billing in the next day's headlines:

L
OCAL
B
OY
, T
WO
G
IRLS
,
AND A
G
OOSE
C
RACK
H
EIRLOOM
C
ASE
.

I didn't really care, though. The important
things were that Granny Goose was back home with Pickles and Doris and the gang, the heirlooms had been returned to their rightful owners, and Mrs. Grimstone made good on her reward offer. We didn't exactly get a big presentation ceremony at City Hall, like I'd hoped, but along with our families, we did get a special invitation to the Grimstones' house.

“I would like to thank the three of you,” Mrs. Grimstone said in front of everyone. She handed me a check for $4,788. “As you can see,” she explained, pointing to the amount, “Howard and I have subtracted the cost of Angel's princess gown. Such an unfortunate waste of money that was. My maids were unable to remove the strawberry stains.”

“Oh, um, sorry about that,” I muttered.

“What's done is done,” she said, waving her hand at me. “Believe me, the loss of that gown pales to the devastation I've endured over the turn of events with Cricket.” She dabbed her eyes with a hankie and turned to her husband. “Honestly,
Howard. How could I have been so careless with details regarding our valuables? I feel such a fool for my poor judge of character.”

Mr. Grimstone put his arm around her shoulder. “There, there, dear,” he said. “Don't blame yourself for this. You had no way of knowing Cricket's intent or that she had such unsavory acquaintances.”

“Well, both of them will certainly pay for their actions,” my mom said. “I imagine they'll receive a few years in prison, at the very least. And I'm terribly sorry, Hazel, for the way Cricket betrayed your trust. That must've been quite a letdown.”

“Indeed!” Mrs. Grimstone said. “And to imagine that thug boyfriend of hers cavorting about our home! Why, I'm not even sure when or how he entered. It must've been during the soufflé presentation. You know, we had so many people in here—thirty, at the least—that I wasn't able to keep track of all the comings and goings. And not one of my help noticed anything untoward.”

“Yep,” Mr. Grimstone said, pulling a fresh cigar out of his shirt pocket. “A real lowlife, that fellow. I'm relieved to know he's behind bars.”

 

Once my share of the money was deposited in the bank, we had a family meeting about how it would be spent. It seemed like my plans were way different from my parents'.

“Band camp and a new flute,” I said.

“I vote for savings bonds,” my dad said.

“A good, sensible idea,” Mom said, like the case was closed.

It took three solid days of finagling and begging to get them to say okay to a new flute, especially since they weren't so thrilled with what Mom called my “questionable behavior.” Band camp was still up in the air when we got a visit from Gus's dad. I overheard my parents talking to him in the kitchen.

“You're absolutely right,” Mr. Kinnard said, after listening to my mom rant about the folly and danger
of our actions and how her daughter “could've been hauled off to Timbuktu by Cricket and that sleazy boyfriend.”

“I agree, these kids need to face some consequences for their actions. How about a couple of weeks' work on the school grounds? I understand the maintenance crew is doing a major landscaping job—I believe the gardener who worked for Mrs. Grimstone is supervising it—and they could use summer help.”

“That's an excellent idea,” Mom said. “Lindy needs some structure this summer.”

“I'll call the necessary people and arrange it,” Mr. Kinnard said. “And thanks for agreeing to let Lindy attend camp. I'm grateful to her and Margaret for the friendship they've shown Gus over the last few days. It's the happiest I've seen him since his mother died.”

Actually, the whole landscaping thing didn't turn out so bad. Leonard didn't hate us nearly as
much as I thought, and he seemed happier working for the city than he did the Grimstones. He even taught us a lot about flowers, like how the pitaya is a night-blooming edible plant that François planned to feature at Simply Paris. “He wants to place them around some fake Eiffel Tower in the middle of his patio,” Leonard said.

After our last morning of work with Leonard, Margaret, Gus, and I headed over to Granny Goose's. She was throwing a going-away-to-camp-party in our honor. A lot of people would be there, she'd told us, including her veterinarian son from Orlando.

“He's moving back to Bloomsberry,” Granny Goose had said. “He and his wife are tired of living in the city. They want to help with the rescue operation.”

We turned down Main Street, talking about everything that'd happened in the last couple of weeks, when Angel and her friends walked out of the White Mountain Ice Creamery.

“Yoo-hoo, Mr. Sexy-phone,” Angel yelled. “I bet
I know what you bought with my grammy's reward money.”

“Oh, really?” I said. “How'd you ever guess he got you a muzzle?”

“Shut up. You're the one that needs a muzzle. Hey,” Angel said to her friends, “did you hear that Mr. Sexy-phone bought both of his girlfriends a promise ring at the dollar shop?”

Lisa and Caroline giggled. Gus stiffened beside me. He drew in a deep breath and faced Angel. “Yep. That's what I got them, all right—solid-gold promise rings. You must be psychic or something.”

“You mean
psychotic
,” Margaret said.

“Yeah,” I said, “as in lamebrain.”

Angel shouted a bunch more insults at us, but I didn't care. I don't think Gus did either, because by the time we got half a block away, we were talking and laughing about other things. And once we'd made it to Granny Goose's house, Angel Grimstone was ancient history.

At the bottom of Granny Goose's porch steps I came to a dead stop. My nose started twitching. The unmistakable aroma of stewed cucumbers wafted from her front door. I shrugged my shoulders and sighed. I'd have to fake a stomach virus, because I definitely wasn't up for that snotball-in-my-throat feeling again.

Margaret skipped up the steps and ran inside to greet Pickles and Doris and Petunia the parrot, and everyone else that lived there. Gus stood beside me on the front porch, his cowlick sticking straight up. His T-shirt was stained, he had a smudge of something on his cheek, and I wasn't even 100 percent sure his shoes matched.

I grinned at him. “Hey. After the cucumber party, maybe you and Margaret can get your instruments and come back to my house. We'll work on scales. We need to prepare for the governor's concert.”

“Yeah. That'd be great. Except there's about a ninety-eight percent chance I'm gonna squeak—just wanted to warn you.”

“That's okay,” I said, and I meant it.

“Look!” Margaret squealed from inside. She had something tiny and fuzzy and brown cuddled against her chest. “Look what Granny Goose is giving me. Ohmigosh! Isn't it the most adorable thing you ever saw? It's a goosling.”

“You mean gosling,” Gus said. “A baby goose is a gos—”

“Don't you want one, too, Lindy?”

“Umm, maybe.” I watched Margaret dance around the living room, cooing over the gosling, kissing its fuzzy head. Her face beamed with happiness.

“You know what,” I said to Gus. “Instead of practicing scales, let's look for another trio, one that we can play at the fall concert.”