Candy Shop War (28 page)

“Nobody would buy Pigeon as an eager student!” Summer joked.

“I don’t know,” Pigeon said. “Sounds risky.”

“Or you can give me some of your candy and I’ll do it,” Nate said. “I think I could act studious in an emergency.”

Pigeon pressed his lips together. “No, it’s my candy, I should do it. If I act like it’s for a school report, nobody can get angry. I can call my cousin. He’ll give me a ride on his motorcycle.”

“You sure?” Summer said.

Pigeon nodded. “I can’t let Trevor down. If things go well, maybe I’ll come back with the
Stargazer.
Worst case, I’ll at least learn where it is.”

“Okay,” Nate said. “Call when you know something, or when you need us. You can do this, Pidge. It’s right up your alley.”

“Hey, if you’re going to be on a motorcycle, you can finally get some use out of that jacket,” Summer said.

“No way,” Pigeon said. “Today, I need to look as nerdy as possible. I know just the sweater.”

*****

Nate leaned against his bathroom counter, scrawling in a notebook. He held up the page to show Trevor.

The
Stargazer
is a ship in a bottle owned by the mayor of Colson. Pigeon is going to try to find out where he keeps it.

Trevor pointed at himself and shaped his hands into binoculars.

The mayor lives in North Ridge. Pigeon acted like it was far.

Trevor frowned and nodded.

Guess what? Denny, Eric, and Kyle are now working for Mrs. White. Might not hurt to spy on them if you get the chance.

Trevor looked astounded by the news, then connected his thumb and forefinger to make an okay sign.

They used Shock Bits on me today at school. Summer shocked Denny, and used a Sweet Tooth to get him to ask out Mandy Meyers. Mandy totally denied him!

Nate could not hear the sound, but Trevor laughed hard.

“Somewhere over the Rainbow” started playing. Nate answered the cell phone. “Hello?”

“Glad I reached you, Nate,” Mr. Stott said. “I need you to come to my house right away. There is someone I want you to meet, and something I want to give you.”

“I’ll be there in a few minutes.”

“See you soon.”

“ ’Bye.”

Trevor stared at Nate curiously.

I have to visit Mr. Stott. I guess he forgot to give me something. I’ll be back in a while.

Trevor pointed at himself, made a walking motion with two fingers, and raised his hands to his eyes like binoculars.

Yes, go and spy. Later.

Trevor saluted and jogged out of view.

*****

Pigeon held onto Nile, trying not to cling like he was scared as they leaned around a corner onto Sunset Place. Pigeon loved the exhilaration of riding a motorcycle, but cornering made him feel off-balance. Nile accelerated down the road, the sudden increase in speed making Pigeon’s insides lurch.

All of the houses in the North Ridge community were remarkable structures with professionally landscaped yards, but number 14 at the end of the cul-de-sac was the most impressive of them all. A brick driveway flanked by white planters led from the black iron gates to a wide mansion made splendid by numerous turrets, chimneys, and balconies.

Nile came to a stop at the gate, dropping his feet to steady the motorcycle. “You want me to go up with you?” he asked.

“For this to work, I need to seem nerdy and pathetic,” Pigeon explained. “You’re too cool.”

“All right,” Nile said. “I’ll keep an eye out until you get inside, then I’ll check back every ten minutes or so. If I loiter too long in a neighborhood like this, somebody might call the cops.”

Pigeon hopped down off the bike and removed his helmet. He wore a sky-blue button-down sweater and khakis. “Do I look pathetic?” he asked.

“No comment,” Nile said.

Pigeon had told Nile that he was working on a report for school, and that he hoped the mayor might let him take some old Colson artifacts into his class. When Nile had come to pick him up, he had spotted a box of white fudge on the table and snuck a piece, confiding that he had become mildly addicted.

Running to the gate, Pigeon put a Sweet Tooth into his mouth and pressed the button on the intercom. He glanced up and noticed a security camera aimed at him.

“Colson residence,” said a male voice. “May I ask your name?”

“I’m Paul Bowen. I’m hoping to talk to Mrs. Colson. I go to Mt. Diablo, and I’m working on a report about Hanaver Mills.”

“Do you have an appointment?” the voice asked.

Pigeon hoped the Sweet Tooth would work through an intercom. “I’m only ten. I wasn’t sure how I would make an appointment. I thought maybe I’d just drop by. Can’t you let me see her? It will only take a couple of minutes.”

“One moment.”

Pigeon waited. He slid the Sweet Tooth around his mouth with his tongue.

The gates started opening on their own. Pigeon heard Nile riding away. “Come on in,” the voice invited.

Pigeon followed the driveway to the elegant front door. A middle-aged man in a shirt and tie opened the door and admitted him. Pigeon stared up at a magnificent chandelier suspended above a grand staircase. A fat Persian cat, its long hair a tawny brown, relaxed on the stairs, licking a black paw. The man escorted Pigeon across the marble entryway and indicated a room off to one side. “You’re welcome to wait in the parlor,” the man said in a friendly, unpretentious manner. “Mrs. Colson is on a call, and may be a few minutes.”

“Okay, thanks,” Pigeon said, looking around the well-appointed sitting room.

“Be brief and polite,” the man added in a confidential tone. He winked and exited, closing the door.

Pigeon hesitantly sat down on an ornate pink and black chair. The furniture looked almost too nice to touch. There were several paintings on the walls, mostly pastoral scenes.

After waiting for a minute or so, Pigeon rose and leaned an ear against the door. From his pocket he removed a plastic sandwich bag full of reddish-brown kibbles. The sack the Brain Feed had come in was too large for pockets, so Pigeon had downsized the bag.

Pigeon inched the door open and peeked out. The Persian cat was walking away down a hall, but paused when Pigeon hissed at it softly and shook some Brain Feed into his palm. Pigeon set a few bits of food on the floor near the door and backed away. The cat came forward, sniffed the food, ate it, then entered the room.

“That was quite good, have you any more?” the cat asked in an articulate female voice.

He did not know what he had expected, but hearing the cat suddenly speaking in perfect English left Pigeon momentarily speechless. “Sure, if you help me out,” he finally managed.

“Do I strike you as an errand girl?” the cat sniffed, raising her head imperiously.

“I meant a favor,” Pigeon said.

“I seldom grant favors, and certainly not in exchange for bribes.” The cat slunk to the center of the room, furry tail swishing lazily behind her.

Pigeon remembered that he still had the Sweet Tooth in his mouth, and resolved to be more direct. “You must know this house very well,” he said.

“None know it better,” the cat declared.

“Have you seen a model ship inside a bottle?”

“Here in the house? Certainly not.” The cat stretched.

“A really nice model, built by Hanaver Mills,” he specified.

“By Hanaver? You might try the Colson Museum.”

“This model isn’t in the museum,” Pigeon said, realizing that this line of questioning was getting him nowhere. “Is Mrs. Colson nice?”

“Nice? That depends. She can be affectionate and generous. She can be cold and ruthless. I quite like her.”

“How about I give you some more of this food just to be kind,” Pigeon said.

“How magnanimous of you,” the cat said sarcastically.

Pigeon set a few more kibbles on the floor, and the cat ate them. “I must say, as sorry as it looks, this stuff has a most agreeable aftertaste. Where did you get it?”

“Hard to explain,” Pigeon said. “Look, I—”

At that moment Mrs. Colson came through the door, a slender woman in a smart gray suit, her hair short and stylish. Pigeon jumped up and tried not to look like he had been having a conversation with a cat. Mrs. Colson strode forward, extending a hand toward Pigeon with the breezy camaraderie of a practiced politician. “Victoria Colson, so nice to meet you, Paul.”

“Thank you for letting me visit,” Pigeon said, meeting her assertive grip limply.

Mrs. Colson bent down and picked up the cat. “How did you get in here, Jasmine?”

“My fault,” Pigeon apologized. “I noticed her in the hall and opened the door. I like cats.”

“More like you lured me in here with salty snacks,” Jasmine purred.

“A fellow feline enthusiast,” Mrs. Colson said with an automatic smile. She did not appear to have heard the cat speak. “Please, Paul, have a seat.” He sat back down on the pink and black chair. Mrs. Colson alighted on the sofa, stroking Jasmine. “How may I help you?”

“I’m working on a project for school about the models Hanaver Mills built. He’s your ancestor, right?”

“My great-great-grandfather, yes.”

“I’ve seen the boats in the town museum, but I read that he had a favorite, a ship called the
Stargazer
housed inside a bottle. I’d love to have a look and maybe take a picture if you know where I can find it.”

Mrs. Colson placed a manicured finger beside her lips. “I donated the
Stargazer
to the library as a display piece several years ago,” she said thoughtfully. “I’m in there almost every week, but I can’t say I’ve seen it. The model must have ended up in storage. You know who could help you is Leslie Wagner, the head librarian. I’ll give you a note. Bravo for going the extra mile on your research! Wait here one moment.”

“You got on her good side,” Jasmine remarked as Mrs. Colson exited the room. “Victoria has always been a pushover for kids and animals. Funny all the interest in Hanaver lately.”

“All the interest?” Pigeon asked.

“Some of his belongings were recently stolen from the Colson Museum,” Jasmine said. “And of course Belinda White keeps asking Victoria about Hanaver Mills memorabilia.”

“Belinda White?”

“She telephones on occasion,” Jasmine said. “Belinda runs the new candy shop on Main. She sends us the most delicious complimentary treats: peanut brittle, chocolate macadamias, truffles, fudge . . . I would love to meet her face-to-face.”

Mrs. Colson returned, heels clicking across the marble entryway. She stopped in the doorway, a piece of stationery in hand, and glanced at her delicate wristwatch. “If you get down to the library before six, you might catch Mrs. Wagner before she heads home.”

Pigeon crossed to the doorway and accepted the pink slip of paper. “Thanks a lot, Mrs. Colson,” he said.

“My pleasure,” she replied, guiding him to the door.

“Come again, Paul,” Jasmine called.

Pigeon turned and waved. Mrs. Colson closed the door. That had gone smoothly! He wondered if the Sweet Tooth had made Mrs. Colson so obliging, or if perhaps he would not have needed the candy in the first place. He hurried down the driveway as the gates swung open. With Nile nowhere in sight, he set off along Sunset Place.

Sliding a hand into his pocket, Pigeon fingered the Brain Feed. What a remarkable creation! Without the kibble, Jasmine could not possibly comprehend English, which meant that the Brain Feed not only granted her the ability of speech, it also allowed her to instantly and effortlessly make sense of previous human interactions she had witnessed. Plus, the magical kibble functioned so naturally that the cat had not seemed a bit amazed to be conversing with a person. Pigeon determined that after visiting the library he would have to spend some time getting to know his dog.

Chapter Fourteen

The Library

Nate rapped on the door and Mr. Stott answered. “Come in, my boy,” he said.