Saving Kabul Corner (16 page)

“Mariam's right,” said Laila, her cheeks pink with worry. “Ronald is rich, and he's running for mayor. Nobody will believe he'd do something this awful to get his hands on a piece of property.”

“They won't believe us, not until we have direct proof that it's him,” said Wali, crumpling the horse meat flyer in his fist.

“Well, let's find the proof,” said Ariana, feeling more hopeful than she had in a long time.

T
HE FIRST THING ON
the new to-do list was to go back and visit Mrs. Wong, since it was after Ronald met with her that all the trouble began. So, while Laila headed to Kabul Corner and Mariam went home to do some research on the Internet about Ronald, Ariana and Wali made the fifteen-minute trek to Mrs. Wong's house.

It was Martin who answered the door at Ariana's insistent knock. “Hi.” He smiled widely. He was wearing the same Mickey Mouse T-shirt as last time and had a Rubik's cube in his hand.

Darn,
thought Ariana.
I forgot to bring him pistachios.
“Hi, Martin,” she said. “Is your mom home?”

“Yes,” he said, thankfully not remembering the nuts. “I'm not allowed to let you in. I'll go get her.”

The door shut, and Mrs. Wong opened it a few minutes later, looking disheveled, as if she hadn't had time to shower

“Hello, Mrs. Wong,” began Ariana. “We're sorry to bother you again, but we're working on a school project and wanted to interview you.”

“A school project?” asked Mrs. Wong.

“Yes,” said Wali. “It's for social studies, a project on civics and government.”

“Oh,” said Mrs. Wong, glancing at her watch. “I can talk to you for a few minutes, but it'll have to be fast, since I need to get ready and leave for church in fifteen minutes.”

“Sure, no problem,” said Ariana as she followed Wali inside.

“How is your father doing, Wali?” asked Mrs. Wong.

Wali grimaced. “He's okay, considering what happened. He called the insurance company, and the adjustor is coming on Tuesday to give damage estimates.”

“I talked to your father last night. He's very upset, as am I,” said Mrs. Wong, dabbing her eyes with her sleeve.

Ariana realized Mrs. Wong was hiding tears, and Ariana swallowed back anger.
How could anyone torment a nice woman like Mrs. Wong?
“It's really awful how terrible things keep happening,” Ariana said in a soft voice.

“I know.” Mrs. Wong sighed. “I just don't know what to make of it. Ever since the summer ended, we've been plagued with such bad luck. Who would think a brand-new oven would short out?”
Short out, my foot,
thought Ariana. “But thank the Lord that the fire didn't spread to the other stores.”

“The fire department showed up right on time,” said Wali.

Mrs. Wong nodded, and then brought the conversation back to why they were there. “So, how can I help you two today?”

Ariana and Wali had decided not to tell her about their investigation or share their suspicions. They had worked out a cover story and were sticking to it.

Wali cleared his throat. “As I mentioned, we're working on a project for social studies and have chosen to study the election process—in particular, the mayoral race.”

“Oh, that sounds interesting,” said Mrs. Wong, perking up.

“Yes, it is,” Ariana said, cringing at the fib as she flipped open her notebook. “We're researching all the candidates for mayor, including Ronald Hammersmith.”

“We wanted to get your thoughts, since you know him,” Wali slipped in.

“Oh,” said Mrs. Wong with a frown. “I don't actually know him that well.”

“But you were talking to him at the Daily Grind Café a few months ago,” Ariana prodded, looking down at the page, pretending to take notes.

Mrs. Wong shrugged. “Well, we met because he wanted my support for his candidacy, so I gave him a small donation and endorsed him.”

Ariana's stomach sank.
Is that it?

“Why did you endorse him?” asked Wali.

“I strongly believe in environmental protection and sustainable development,” said Mrs. Wong, “which is a large part of his platform.”

“Yes, that's what we've found out about him too,” said Wali, pulling out Ronald's campaign flyer. “These are printed on recycled paper.”

Ariana thought back to what she'd read in the
Tri City Express,
and the words came tumbling out of her mouth. “Ronald has been buying up land for green development projects.”

“It's funny you say that,” said Mrs. Wong, ­folding her hands in her lap. “As our meeting was ending, Ronald surprised me by mentioning an interest in buying Wong Plaza.”

Ariana stared at Mrs. Wong, momentarily dumbstruck.
Buying Wong Plaza?

Thankfully Wali wasn't as tongue-tied. “Mr. ­Hammersmith wanted to buy Wong Plaza?”

“Yes, but I told him I wasn't interested in selling.”

“Why not?” croaked Ariana, her tongue finally loosening.

“Well, over the years many developers have wanted to buy the plaza, since it's in such a central location, between industrial and residential neighborhoods. But the land has been in my family for three generations, and I have a personal connection to it.”

“Oh,” said Ariana. “I didn't know that.”

“Yes, but he was very persistent,” said Mrs. Wong, looking a little put off at the memory. “In fact, he came by here a few weeks after we'd met and tried to sweet-talk me into selling. But I politely declined since the property is my only source of income.”

“Oh, wow,” murmured Ariana, sharing a triumphant look with Wali.

Mrs. Wong glanced down at her watch. “Okay, guys. We need to wrap it up soon.”

“Thanks for your time, Mrs. Wong,” said Wali.

“Not a problem,” said Mrs. Wong as she stood up to see them out. “Although sometimes I wonder if I should just go ahead and sell, since it's becoming tough to manage all these problems in my old age.”

Ariana shared a worried glance with Wali, and she knew he was thinking the same thing.
That's exactly what Ronald wants.
As they walked past the dining room, she spotted the corkboard and the line of ­master keys and recalled their first visit.
The keys!

She stumbled against Wali, who steadied her. “You okay?”

She grinned. “Yup.” As soon as Mrs. Wong had shut the door behind them, she lowered her voice. “I know how they got in!”

“Huh?” said Wali, a quizzical look on his face.

“Last time we were here, I told you that the master keys to our stores had been switched around—as if someone had put them back in a hurry and hadn't checked which was which. Ronald must have gotten copies of the keys somehow!”

Wali let loose a loud whoop and gave Ariana a hug. Shocked, they clonked heads and jumped back from each other, red-faced.

• • • 

The next thing on their to-do list had been Mariam's idea—based on her favorite reality show,
Take That.
It was a pretty gutsy strategy, one that was going to take a lot of nerve to pull off. But if they succeeded, it would give them the evidence they badly needed. The plan was to be put in motion as soon as school ended the following Monday afternoon.

In nervous anticipation, Ariana floated in a daze, from one class to another, and at one point Mr. Lambert asked if she was sick and needed to go see the nurse. She mumbled that she was okay, but turned beet red as everyone stared at her. Hidden behind her science textbook, she'd been reading a copy of the
Tri City Express
that Wali had handed her in homeroom that morning. The news about Pamir Market was just hitting the papers, and the front page revealed a picture of the burned-out shell of the store, followed by a brief article.

Dressed in the most professional clothes they could find, Ariana and Wali arrived at Ronald's flashy glass and chrome office promptly at three fifteen. They paused in the parking lot, staring up at the shiny sign for New Vistas Development Corporation. Mariam had convinced her older brother, Fadi, to drop them off. He and Mariam would return to pick the duo up at four thirty, which would give them ample time for their operation. As Wali adjusted his too-long sports jacket, Ariana tugged at the itchy, too-small woolen pants she'd borrowed from Mariam. The matching navy cotton tunic had actually given her a rash, and she wished she could tear it off and pull on her comforting sweats. But she gritted her teeth.
If I have to suffer to gain the truth, I will.
After pushing past the heavy glass doors, they stepped into the sleek lobby buzzing with activity, and approached a harried receptionist sitting at the front desk.

“Remember,” whispered Wali. “We're doing an article for the school newspaper on local elections and Ronald Hammersmith.”

Ariana nodded, clutching her backpack while mentally reviewing the plan. A variety of emotions swirled through her mind. One minute she thought that the scheme was brilliant. The next she felt that it was the dumbest idea ever.
But,
she thought, and sighed,
it's the only option we have. There is no plan B.

Wali approached the receptionist with confidence. “We're here to see Mr. Hammersmith,” he said.

“Take a seat,” said the receptionist, her gray eyes magnified behind large horn-rimmed glasses. “I'll be with you in a minute.”

The duo took a seat on the white couch adjacent to a long oil painting of hills blooming with bright golden poppies. At the other end of the sofa sat a bearded man in a frayed tweed coat, taking notes on his laptop. Ariana ran her hand along the buttery-soft leather, rubbing it with her thumb, taking deep calming breaths.

Wali stole a glance at his binder. Inside he carried an official-looking letter from Patty, of all people. Wali and Ariana had cornered her at lunch and asked for her help. Ms. Popularity had batted her eyelashes at Wali and given Ariana a hostile look, but after hearing their story, her mouth had hung wide open. Sensing a hot story for
The Owl
, she'd agreed to do what she could to help. She'd snuck into the art studio, which served as
The Owl
's office, and printed out a letter using the school's stationery, pretending to be Coach Newsom,
The Owl
's adviser. The letter confirmed that two students would be visiting Mr. Hammersmith to conduct an interview for the school newspaper, which had been arranged by Principal Chiu.

“Terry Yurkovich,
Tri City Express
,” called out the receptionist.

“That's me,” said the man, picking up his leather attaché case and hurrying to a set of doors leading into the main building.

A few minutes later the receptionist waved them over. “Do you have an appointment?” she asked, her tone brusque.

“Yes. Our principal, Mrs. Chiu, made it a month ago,” said Wali.

“Your names?” she asked.

“Jose Rivera and Nooria Afridi,” said Wali, the names rolling off his tongue as if they were the truth. “We're from
The Owl
, our school newspaper.”

The receptionist looked on her computer. “I don't see your names in here.”

Ariana and Wali had been expecting this, so they kicked the plan into action.

“How can that be?” said Wali loudly, looking stricken. He handed the receptionist Coach ­Newsom's phony letter. “Our principal sent this, confirming our visit.”

Wow, he's as good an actor as Mariam,
thought Ariana, impressed.

“I understand, but you don't have an appointment,” said the receptionist. “We can reschedule if you'd like.”

“You don't understand,” Wali practically cried. “We're doing a huge article on the candidates, and our grade is depending on us meeting Mr. ­Hammersmith—”

“We're going to fail,” interrupted Ariana with a loud wail, and she crumpled to the floor. For good measure she started to moan, sniffing loudly.

The receptionist's eyes widened, and she looked uneasily around the lobby; everyone was staring at them, some shaking their heads in dismay.

“Hold on,” said the woman, punching speed dial as Ariana started to sob loudly, holding a napkin she'd found crumpled in her pants pocket. “Can you come out here?” she hissed into the mouthpiece. “We have a situation. . . .”

A few moments later a willowy blond woman sailed through the side doors.

Ariana stiffened, recognizing her from the fall festival. She resembled the woman that Melody, from Leaf Designs, had described.

“Hey, guys,” she said brightly, her white teeth flashing a strained smile. “My name is Paige Jensen, and I'm Mr. Hammersmith's assistant. What can I help you with today?”

Ariana and Wali shared a quick look.
Bingo!

“Hi,” said Ariana, her face flushed, the words ­tumbling from her lips. “We're here from our school newspaper,
The Owl
, to interview Mr. Hammersmith.”

“Our principal, Mrs. Chiu, made our appointment weeks ago, since we're covering local elections,” added Wali. “We've already interviewed Ana Cardoso, Mr. Hammersmith's opponent.”

“She was
super
nice,” added Ariana, warming up. “We talked to her for
more than
an hour.”