Madhattan Mystery (11 page)

“Take it all, okay?” Kim Ling called out. “Every last cent.”

“Go away,” Lexi snapped.

“I reiterate, I'm in this strictly for the story, so you can have
all
of the reward money. Besides, my dad's a successful attorney so I'm pretty much set. C'mon, think about it—one hundred and eighty thousand dollars is a life-changing amount of money.”

It really was. Lexi had always believed that her father, not being able to work much after Mom's death, had married Clare strictly for her money—a quick answer to a desperate situation. A windfall like this could change everything. But it was way too far-fetched.

“Can't you call one of your stupid friends and drag them along instead?” Lexi said.

“No time! Besides, I don't have any stupid friends, okay? Or smart ones. I mean, no
real
friend-friends exactly.”

Lexi's sneakers came to a squeaky stop. Okay, this had to be a trick—some kind of twisted strategy. She turned to Kim Ling and searched her eyes for sincerity. Either she was the greatest wool-puller-over-the-eyes in the world or the girl wasn't kidding. What kind of kid doesn't have any friends and admits it? Kim Ling, that's who. How awful. And totally embarrassing.

“I'm sorry,” she said, her thoughts in a jumble, “but I can't drag Kevin back to that horrible place again.”

“Uh, I don't think you're gonna have to,” Kevin said, staring into the distance. “Purple bandanna at nine o'clock. Isn't that the girl over there? Digging through the garbage can?”

Without discussion, Lexi, Kim Ling, and Kevin zoomed toward the figure in the purple bandanna like paper clips to a magnet. But was it the teenage girl from the boiler room? It had to be. Another dead giveaway: the
I
NY
T-shirt. She was sniffing something she had fished out of the garbage can—a gnarled pizza crust?—and was about to take a bite.

“Don't!” Lexi cried, running up to her.

The girl almost bolted, until she saw who it was. “Oh, man,” she said, her shoulders slumping. “What do you three pains in the butt want now?”

“Wouldn't you like a slice of fresh hot pizza instead? On me?”

She cocked her head and sized up Lexi through cautious eye slits. “Well, I hate to see perfectly good food go to waste,” she said, “but what the hey?” and tossed
the crust over her shoulder, just missing the trash can. “You're on.”

Lexi picked up the crust and disposed of it properly, wondering what she had just gotten herself into. “So, what do you like on your pizza? Pepperoni? Mushrooms? The works?”

“We can't afford that,” Kevin said in too loud of a whisper.

“Whatever won't break the bank,” the girl answered.

“The works it is.” Lexi brushed off her hands and leaned into Kim Ling. “You might have to lend me some cash, okay?”

“I guess. But if I'm pitching in, then I deserve the credit.” She turned to the homeless girl. “Uh, yoo-hoo—I don't know your name, but the pizza is going to be
our
treat, not
her
treat. Just to be clear.”

The girl shrugged like she couldn't give a rat's behind and all four took off, strolling along the perimeter of the busy grand concourse, heading toward the marble staircase that led to the dining concourse.

“So, what
is
your name anyway? I'm Kim Ling Levine, Manhattan native. This is Lexi McGill and her little brother, Kevin. They're just visiting. I'd shake your hand but—under the circumstances …”

The girl was staring off into the distance as if she had already left the conversation. “Huh—what?”

“Your
name
?”

“Oh, sorry, I'm spacing out. That would be Melrose—Merritt. With two
r
's and two
t
's.”

“Melrose? Cool.” Kevin's twisted face looked up at her. “That your real name?”

“Real enough. No, I'm just kidding. It's, uh, short—for Melanie Rose. When I become an actress, I'm thinkin' of losin' the Merritt altogether and just goin' by Melrose.”

“I love it!” Lexi gushed. “My name's really Alexandra, but Alex and Al are way too boyish so people call me Lexi or Lex for short, which is cool—even though Lex is still kinda masculine, but I don't mind that as much.”

“Geez, come up for air why don't ya?” Kevin teased.

“I'm just saying.”

The stroll of awkwardness took them down to the Two Boots Pizzeria in the food court area, where the aroma was thick and delicious. Melrose told the others that she'd grab a table while they were ordering at the counter—but when the girls and Kevin turned around with food and drinks, there was no sign of her. Lexi thought Melrose had ditched them for sure, until she heard a “Yo!” from the darkest corner table.

“Hey. I got a medium pie with just cheese so we can all indulge,” Lexi reported, approaching the table. She slid the sizzling pizza down in front of Melrose and took a seat opposite her. “Sorry, but with drinks, it's all I could afford.”

“All
we
could afford,” Kim Ling said, setting down the tray of sodas, paper plates, napkins, and plastic utensils. She collapsed into the chair next to Lexi, distributed the
plates like a card dealer, and helped herself to a slice, which she very carefully slid from the pan onto her plate.

Melrose tore off a bubbling slice and shoved it directly into her mouth. “Haah!” she garbled, fanning her tongue. “Izza-burr!”

“Hot. Pizza burn,” Lexi translated. “The worst, right?”

“Well, what'd you expect?” Kim Ling said, barely looking up from her plate. She was methodically laying napkins onto her slice and patting them down with her fingertips.

“I'm not real used to hot meals, okay?” Melrose said.

“Right.” Kim Ling peeled the greasy napkins off her slice and held them up like two soiled mud flaps. “Look at this oil slick. It's enough to clog a major artery. Disgusting.”

“Delicious!” Melrose countered, and chewed off a big bite of pizza, scorching or not, as if to stick it to Kim Ling.

Lexi maneuvered a goopy slice onto Kevin's plate and accidentally knocked over the salt shaker, which she immediately grabbed and shook over her left shoulder to prevent bad luck. A loud “ahem” came from the woman sitting behind her. “Sorry,” Lexi muttered, and helped herself to the smallest slice of pizza left in the pan. She glared at it, waiting for a hint of appetite to appear—but the thought of someone snacking on garbage to survive stuck in her gut like a cinder block. So she sat plucking strings of cheese off her pizza and watching Melrose chow down like a vulture to fresh kill. You would've thought it was
her first meal in weeks. Maybe it was. Her first real meal, anyway. Lexi, who had always complained about being served leftovers, even lasagna, wondered what it would be like to survive on scraps from the trash. Partially eaten doughnuts. Rancid old chicken parts.

And that wasn't the half of it. What she could see of Melrose's blond hair looked greasier than Kim Ling's napkins. Plus, she had an undeniably ripe odor, which was probably why the group of older ladies sitting next to them just got up and moved to another table. How horrible, knowing you smell like raw sewage. And to never be able to take a long bubble bath whenever you liked. Or a plain bath. A hot shower even.

“What, do I reek? Is that why those blue-hairs left?” Melrose sniffed an armpit. “After a while you get used to it and you can't tell anymore. I just ain't had the chance to wash my shirts out lately.”

“Where do you—?” Kevin began, but Lexi gave him a swat.

“In the john when no one's around,” Melrose answered anyway. “Bryant Park's got a decent one too. Sometimes I hit the park fountains late at night if I'm really stankified.”

Lexi, Kevin, and Kim Ling just stared in amazement.

“What?” Melrose said with a mouthful. “You have to suffer to become a great actress! So it's all good.”

“Oh, right, you wanna be an actress,” Lexi said, remembering their earlier conversation. “Cool. Yeah, our aunt's an actress, so …”

“An independent girl with big dreams,” Kim Ling chirped, sounding very un-Kim-like. “Good for you.” She was smiling too wide—obviously sucking up. “So, you must know this train terminal inside and out, huh, Mel? I'll bet you can find your way into some really obscure spots.”

“I get around. What's it to you?”

And her suck-up approach wasn't working. “She's writing a paper,” Lexi said, carefully choosing her words, “on the secret underground world of Manhattan or something.” It wasn't exactly a lie—just almost.

“I want to delve into the underbelly of the city—maybe even interview some other mole people like yourself,” Kim Ling said, going along with the bending of the truth. “Oh, no offense!”

“It's June.” Melrose paused and sucked her teeth. “This for summer school? What, did you flunk English or somethin'?”

“As if!” Kim Ling grumbled. “I've been in the National Honor Society since preschool. Just getting an early start for fall. It's called being conscientious.”

Lexi rolled her eyes. “It's called being an obnoxious overachiever,” she said in one of her aunt's stage whispers.

Kim Ling kicked Lexi under the table with a bare foot; Lexi, in turn, flung a handful of plasticware at her head.

“Hey! You could've put my eye out with that fork!”

“It's not a fork—it's a spork—half spoon, half fork.”

“And you're a sputz—half spaz, half nuts.”

“Yeah? Well,
you're
a hundred percent nuts,” Lexi shot back. “Your toenails are lethal. You should issue an official warning when you unsheathe those things.”

“Unsheathe.” Kevin snorted and slapped his thigh. “You guys crack me up. You should have, like, your own sitcom.”

“So, is that what I am then—a mole person?” Melrose went in for slice number two, then blew across it, right into Kim Ling's face. “Ya know, if you really want some gritty stories, you should talk to Sophie. D'ya ever see her sittin' outside the main entrance?”

“No. Oh, yeah, with the stroller?” Lexi said, remembering the woman who had told her she had pretty hair. “And the cats?”

“Been hangin' out there for years. The cops're always chasin' her away but she keeps comin' back, like a bad rash.” Her heavily outlined eyes went dim. “It's sad, though. Yesterday she told me she didn't think she'd last another winter.”

“You mean on the streets?” Lexi asked.

“I mean on the planet. And would I please look after her babies for her—those mangy cats. Yeah, right, like that's gonna happen.” Melrose tore the crust off her slice, flung it aside, and took a big, crooked bite. “The older ones can't get around so good,” she said with a mouthful. “The homeless, I mean. Ya know, squeezin' through tight places, dodgin' security guards and stuff. So, they usually end up stayin' outside, gettin' heatstroke in the summer
or frostbite in the winter. Eventually they just—you know …”

Lexi swallowed hard. She knew.

A burst of laughter came from a table of teenagers, which only emphasized the depressing topic of conversation at their table. There was a prickly quiet after that—except for the muffled conversations swirling around them—and Lexi could only guess that Melrose, Kevin, and Kim Ling were deep in thought.
She
was, at least. Greasy hair and living off food scraps suddenly seemed pretty mild compared to dying on the streets.

“Why're you always starin'?” Melrose asked, sucking sauce off her chipped, black-painted fingernails.

“Me? I didn't know I was.” Lexi forced a smile. “How's the pizza?”

“
Pree goo
.”

“Pretty good,” Lexi translated. “That last slice has your name on it.”

“So, Melrose Merritt, what do you think?” Kim Ling was sounding fake-friendly again, drumming her fingers on the table—the sound of an army of ants marching into battle. “There's an abandoned train station under Grand Central that I'm dying to get to but it's probably off-limits to the general public. And with the security—well, forget it. But I'll bet you can show us a secret way in. Am I right?”

“Prob'ly. What's in it for me?”

“I dunno.” Kim Ling thought about it for a second. “A sumptuous gastronomic feast?”

“How ‘bout another hot meal instead?”

Lexi kicked Kim Ling under the table this time—to get her to hold back the wisecrack she knew was on her lips.

“That'd work too,” Kim Ling answered with the faintest smile on her face.

“Something homemade, if you can swing it,” Melrose said, fishing a clawful of drippy ice cubes from her cup and dropping them into her mouth. “No nuts, though.”
Crunch-crunch
. “I'm allergic.”