The Case That Time Forgot (9 page)

Xena threw her hands up. “Come
on
, Xander. The school thief takes only expensive things that are small and easy to hide, like a watch, Jill's MP3 player—”

“That graphing calculator,” Xander added.

“Right, and the necklace that girl left in her desk, and money. It's
possible
that the same person took the casebook, but not likely. It's too large. It couldn't be hidden in a pocket.”

Xander nodded. “Either the thief took the casebook after everyone went home so that he wouldn't be seen lugging it down the hall, or it's still there, in someone's locker.”

“Too bad we can't stake out the lockers all day.” Xena's voice showed her frustration, which she was trying to hide. “Let's assume it was someone who was at school after hours.”

“In that case, it's most likely the same person who was listening to me and Karim.”

“Right! Like I said, if we solve the amulet problem, we'll also find the casebook thief.”

Xander sighed heavily, and Xena took pity on him. She put her hand on his shoulder. “We'll find it. I just know we'll find it.”

But Xander wasn't comforted. He reached for his backpack. “I have a math quiz on Friday. I'll study for it now, so I won't have to tomorrow and we can go out.”

Friday! Was the day after tomorrow really Friday? No way would they be able to find the amulet by Saturday. It felt as if they hadn't made any progress at all.

He opened his math book, and a piece of paper fell out. Even before he picked it up, Xander knew he hadn't left it in there. He felt impatient. Was Karim playing his silly note
game again? He unfolded the paper. Instead of another cryptic story about Dr. Watson and Sherlock Holmes, he saw a crude drawing of a scorpion. Scrawled below the sketch were the words,
Keep away from the amulet or you'll never see your casebook again!

T
he next day Karim was out of school, but he texted Xander to say that he was at the dentist and would meet them at The Cat and Crown after school. Sure enough, when they entered the pub, they saw him waving to them from a table. The weather was a little better, and the place was even livelier than it had been two days earlier. Some people were playing darts, others were eating big sandwiches, and still others seemed to be celebrating a birthday.

“Did you order something?” Xena asked as she slid into the seat next to Karim's.

He shook his head. “I was waiting for you.” He was smiling, his eyes shining. “I saw my granddad yesterday. I told him that you were on the case and we were making progress. He was so happy! He says that when he comes home from the hospital he wants you to visit so that he can thank you in person. That's the first
time he's talked about coming home!” Xena and Xander didn't react. “What is it?” Karim asked.

“We had some trouble.” Xander looked over at his sister. He couldn't bear to talk about the casebook.

Xena swallowed. There was no easy way to tell this. “Someone stole our casebook.”

Karim looked from her to Xander and back again, his brown eyes wide open in astonishment. “
Stole
it?”

Xander nodded. “And left a scorpion in my backpack.”

“Did it sting you?”

Xander shook his head.

“Still,” Karim said, “it could have, and it would have been all my fault.”

“No, Karim—” Xander protested, but the other boy went on.

“Yes, it would. This is getting too dangerous. We have to stop. What if—”

“What about your grandfather?” Xena interrupted. Karim fell silent.

“We're being careful,” Xander said. “Really. And a scorpion isn't deadly. Besides, I don't want this jerk, whoever he is, to think he can scare us off the case.”

Xena nodded. “And we're making some progress.”

Xander handed him the note with the drawing of the scorpion on it. Karim read it and looked up. “I don't get it. How is this progress?”

“It proves,” Xena said, “that whoever took the casebook is the same person who left the scorpion. It also proves that they know about the amulet. We already figured that, but it's good to have solid evidence. So now we know that anything we learn about either case will help us with the other one. Did you ever mention the amulet to anyone except us?”

“Never.” Karim sounded definite.

“Not even a hint?” Xander asked.

“I promised my granddad that I wouldn't say anything to anyone except you, and I wouldn't even do that until I figured out that you really were good detectives and hadn't just found that painting by accident.”

“Okay, then.” Xena settled back in her seat. “So once we find the person who was spying on you two in the locker room—”

“And who keeps following us around and made that phone call and left the scorpion and the note in my backpack—” Xander added.

“We'll have the thief
and
the casebook.”

“It must be a student,” Xander said. “Probably a boy. The person Xena saw was dressed like someone our age and was too short to be an adult. And more boys than girls wear Atalantas.”

“Now we have to find Mrs. Collins,” Karim said.

“Let's play the Game!” Xena said.

“What game?” Karim looked mystified.

Xander explained that their father had taught them to play a game that had been passed down from Sherlock Holmes, where they had to guess something about a person just by looking at him. “Like you can tell someone's a teacher if he's carrying schoolbooks,” he said. “Maybe we can figure out who Mrs. Collins is.”

There were a lot of women in the pub, some old, some young, some with friends, a few with one other person, and two sitting alone. Both Xena and Xander thought hard; each wanted to be the first to find her.

The waiter said her husband died years ago, Xander remembered. She must be old. Or at least not young.

She owns the pub, Xena thought. She would know all the regulars.

A cheer came up from the people playing
darts as a short woman threw her arms in the air in triumph. A bright-eyed elderly woman sitting at a table near them was laughing as she congratulated the short woman on her darts victory. “I always told you you'd win someday, Selma!” she said, and the short woman bent over to give her a quick hug and a kiss on the cheek. As she did so, a small face poked up from the elderly lady's lap. A cat—like Bastet!

“Mrs. Collins!” Xena and Xander said at once. The lady looked around at them and smiled.

“Who talks to her?” Xander asked in a low voice.

“You, of course.” Xena was confident in her brother's ability to charm anyone, particularly an old lady who seemed as nice as this one.

They all got up and went to her table. The woman looked up at them and smiled as she stroked the sleek black cat sitting on her lap.

“Are you Mrs. Collins?” Xander asked.

“That's right, dear. Rosie Collins, proprietor. And who might you be?”

“I'm Xander Holmes. This is my sister, Xena, and our friend Karim Farag.” Xander took a deep breath. It all sounded so crazy, but he did his best. “We're searching for something, and we think we're supposed to find it here.”

“What kind of something, dear?”

“That's the problem,” Xena said. “We're not sure.” She stroked the cat, which arched its back under her hand and purred more loudly. Xander sneezed and backed up a step, rubbing his nose.

“Well, then, I can't really help you, dear.”

They racked their brains trying to think. How much could they tell Mrs. Collins without giving away the whole story of the amulet?

“Your cat is beautiful,” Xena said.

“Thank you, dear. The women in my family have always kept cats, because of the name of our pub.”

Xander nudged Karim, who looked bewildered. “‘Who Bastet rules, she Bastet rules'—it means ‘The person who runs The Cat and Crown rules Bastet'!” he whispered.

“As much as anyone can rule a cat!” Karim whispered back.

“The name of our pub and the Egyptian connection, of course,” Mrs. Collins went on, “what with my name and all.”

Her
name
? Rosie Collins? That didn't sound Egyptian! “I don't understand about your name, Mrs. Collins,” Xena said.

“Rosetta Stone Collins,” the old lady answered proudly. “My family has always had an interest
in everything Egyptian, you see. It started with my great-grandparents, who had a friend from Egypt.”

“Rosetta Stone—like that famous stone in the British Museum?” Xena asked. “The one that helped people figure out how to read hieroglyphs?”

She chuckled. “Yes, just like that. My great-grandmother thought Rosetta was a pretty name and it went well with our last name, so she asked my mother to name me Rosetta Stone in remembrance of her dear friend. Then I married Mr. Collins and became plain Rosie Collins!”

“What's the Rosetta Stone?” Xander asked.

“I saw it at the British Museum,” Xena said. “Remember, Xander? Mom made us go to all those museums before we started school.”

Xander shook his head. “You must have gone to see it when I was looking at the mummies.”

Karim said, “It's this big stone that has writing on it in Egyptian hieroglyphs and some other languages. . . .” He hesitated and looked at Mrs. Collins.

“Greek and demotic.” Mrs. Collins took up the explanation. “A great French scholar named Champollion could read Greek, and he used it to decipher the Egyptian.”

“Wow!” Xander said. “Another clue!”

“A clue to what, dear?”

Xena and Xander looked at Karim. “I guess it's all right,” he said. “Go ahead and tell her.” He dropped his voice to a whisper. “But not about the magic.”

They explained that they were descendants of Sherlock Holmes working on a case. When Xena said the name “Amin,” Mrs. Collins sat up straight. The cat jumped off her lap and stalked away, looking offended.

“Amin Farag—that's the friend of my great-grandparents!” She turned to Karim with a look of astonishment. “Did your friend say your name is Farag?” Karim nodded. “Are you related to Mr. Amin Farag? Did you come to find the paper he left?”

More paper. I hope this one actually leads us somewhere, Xena thought, and she said, “Yes, ma'am. Do you have it?”

“Isn't that strange! All these years and nobody shows any interest in it, and then yesterday a boy came here and was interested in it, and now you! How odd that the three of you would turn up right after him.”

“What boy?” Xena asked.

“Just a boy. About your age, I'd say. Brown
hair. I didn't get a good look—it was dark yesterday, you know, and the lights in here are dim.” Brown hair—that could be a lot of people.

“What did he want?” Karim asked.

“He said that his father collected Egyptian artifacts and had heard a rumor that I had something Egyptian. I told him no, nothing like that, unless he meant the paper Mr. Farag gave my ancestors for safekeeping until he or his son could come back for it.”

“Oh, no!” Xander exclaimed. “You didn't give it to him, did you?”

“Of course not!” All three of them felt huge relief, only to be followed by worry when she added, “I did show it to him, though. He seemed most interested in it, examining it under the lamp over there. He wanted to take it outside, but something about him didn't seem trustworthy, so I told him he couldn't and asked Harold over there”—she nodded at the waiter, who was bringing them the tea and lemonade they had ordered—“to keep an eye on him.”

“Mrs. Collins,” Karim said. “Amin Farag was my great-great-great-granduncle. I don't think he had any children. I'm the closest thing to a direct descendant there is.” He pulled his school ID out of his pocket and showed it to her.

Mrs. Collins glanced at it with her bright eyes, and then seemed to make up her mind. “You three wait here,” she instructed. She disappeared into a back room while they burned with excitement.

Mrs. Collins returned with an envelope. On it was written in spidery, old-fashioned handwriting,
For Mr. Amin Farag or his son. To be called for.

“It was among my great-grandmother's possessions at her death. My grandfather didn't know what to do with it. It has remained in the family for all those years.”

She passed it ceremoniously to Karim, who made a little bow as he took it from her hand. After a deep breath, he opened it. Xena and Xander stared eagerly at him, but the disappointment Karim felt showed in his eyes as he passed it to them.

Nothing but a series of meaningless doodles on both sides.

“What does it mean?” Xena asked.

“Sorry, love, I've no idea. All I know is that it was to be kept for Mr. Farag, and now I've done my duty, even if a century late.” Mrs. Collins nodded at Karim, who managed a weak smile. “And now I've got to get back to running the pub. Your snacks are on the house!”

They thanked her and went out into the darkening afternoon. “I wonder why you have to hold it to the sun,” Xander said.

Xena shrugged. It didn't matter; the sun was barely showing.

“That must be why that other boy held it to the light in the pub,” Karim said.

“Good thing the lights aren't too bright in there!” Xena said.

“How do you know they weren't bright enough to see whatever it was he was supposed to see?”

“Because,” Xena explained, “if he'd gotten what he needed, he wouldn't have tried to take it away!”

“Maybe there's a watermark,” Xander guessed. “You know, when paper looks like there's nothing on it but there are some marks that show in the light. Like on English money.”

“American money too, sometimes,” Xena said. “Let's go someplace brighter.”

Karim glanced at his watch. “I have to go home,” he said. “Walk me to the Tube? My mum said I could ride alone just this once.”