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Authors: Sheila Turnage

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BOOK: The Odds of Getting Even
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Chapter 28

The Big Reveal

The next morning we settled into our desks, exhausted from the last two days of investigation, and nervous about the Big Reveal ahead. I raised my hand.

“Excuse me, Miss Retzyl,” I said, “the Desperados adore classwork, but we feel like the town's safety maybe tops our love of math. I hope you're civic-minded enough to give us a day off to prepare our five p.m. Big Reveal at the café for your boyfriend, because—”

“There are no days off in sixth grade, Mo,” she said, her voice icy. She looked at Dale. “And I am
so
glad you're feeling better after yesterday's stomach upset, Dale.”

Sarcasm. We were doomed.

“Thank you,” Dale said, and gently burped.

“Please take out your spelling books,” she said.

I raised my hand. “Excuse me. I left a message at your house, but I haven't heard from Joe Starr yet.”

She closed her eyes. “Joe's working. I'm sure he'll be at your Reveal. Spelling books. Now.”

We whipped out our books and set up shop.

Behind his spelling book, Dale worked on his remarks for the Big Reveal.

Harm, who'd stayed up late worrying about our iffy evidence, stared straight ahead, but from the rasp of his breathing, I knew he was dead asleep.

As for me, I reviewed our evidence and hoped Skeeter would pop in to say Starr had called about the Fish Camp Loot, or the lab had called with good news on our DNA.

She didn't.

The lunch bell rang and I shot to the door. “Hurry, Desperados,” I said. “Skeeter's office, now. Time's running out.”

Dale unwrapped his sandwich as Skeeter slid her phone to me. “I'm sorry, Desperados. Our lab says four days to confirm sibling DNA. They're searching for a faster lab now and they'll call if they find one. If their call comes, it will be at the end of the day. Feel free to use the phone.”

I dialed. “911? This is Mo LoBeau with an emergency. Tell Joe Starr to bring Mr. Macon's hunting jacket
and
the Fish Camp Loot to the Big Reveal this afternoon . . . Sure, you're invited too. Bring your friends. Five p.m. at the café.”

I hung up and looked at Harm. “Did you call Flick?”

“Yes, but I'll remind him.” He dialed. “Flick, don't forget. Gramps has some cash for you . . . I don't want you to miss out. Five o'clock. Be there or lose out . . . big.”

“Now we got everybody but Capers,” I said. “She should be back by now.”

Dale nibbled his sandwich. “A story would be good Capers bait,” he suggested.

I made one last call.

“Café, Lana speaking,” Miss Lana said.

“Miss Lana, it's Mo. I'm strictly ad-lib, so work with me.”

“Fine,” she said. “Go ahead with your order.”

“Is Capers back yet?”

“Yes,” she said. “We have that. But it's selling out fast.”

Selling out fast?

“Leaving town?” I gasped. “Don't let her go. Tell her we have Mr. Macon in custody and can prove he did every single crime. She can have an exclusive interview after the Big Reveal. But watch your back, Miss Lana. She's dangerous.”

“Thank you,” she said, and hung up.

“I would enjoy making a call,” Dale said. “To the Azalea Women.”

The Azalea Women?

I handed him the phone. “Hello, this is Dale,” he said. “We've captured Daddy and he's in jail for all the town's crimes plus more. . . . That's right. I turned him in for the
reward money because that's the kind of boy I am. We'll explain everything at five p.m. at the café, and I knew you'd want a good seat.”

Excellent.

The news will be all over town in two minutes flat.

Finally the end-of-day bell rang, and we sprinted for our bikes.

We pushed into the café at four p.m., straight up. Just one hour to go.

Capers sat at a window table, the Colonel watching her like a hawk watches a rabbit. “Thank heavens
she's
here,” Harm said, putting our evidence crate on a table. “I just wish Starr would let us know about the loot. Or that the lab would call.” He shook his head. “And where's Flick?”

The Azalea Women bustled in and pushed their tables together.

Outside, Lavender pulled up in the GMC.

Tupelo Landing without Lavender, I thought. My heart fell like a stone.

Lavender strolled in holding a large cardboard box, Queen Elizabeth on his heels. “I invited Queen Elizabeth and the pups,” Dale explained, heading for his brother. “It's good for the pups to meet everybody. And they can see us in action.”

Hannah and Little Agnes grabbed seats at our evidence table.

“Lavender,” an Azalea Woman called, “I hear you're leaving us. What a pity.”

Lavender stared at her just long enough to wilt her smile. “You hear all kinds of things,” he said. “Doesn't mean they're true. Where you want the pups, little brother?”

“Over here,” Dale said, slapping an
OUT
OF
ORDER
sign on the jukebox. Lavender gently placed the box by the old Wurlitzer and Liz stepped in, one careful foot at a time.

Skeeter and Sal bustled in together. “Did the lab call?” I asked.

Sal shook her head. “We tried,” she whispered, turning her back to Capers. “I asked them to call me here if they learn anything, but don't count on it.”

Crud.

Lavender sauntered over, smiling his old smile. “Mo,” he said, “do you have a minute?”

At least he has his shine back, I thought.

Used to, I always had a minute for Lavender. But used to, I would be going out with him in just seven more years.

“Sorry,” I said. “I got a Big Reveal to set up.”

Harm grabbed the photo folder. “Shoot,” he muttered. “We left half our photos in your filing cabinet.”

“I got it,” I said, and pounded out the door.

I blasted through the crowded parking lot and pelted into my flat. I grabbed the forgotten file and darted out.

Lavender stood waiting on the porch. “Mo, I need to talk to you,” he said, falling in beside me. “I wanted you to be the first to know. Well, the second really. I just told Dale. I've decided to buy Miss Thornton's old store—a little at a time.”

I skidded to a halt. “You're staying?”

He nodded. “Mo, I've tried all my life to be better than Macon. The other night at Miss Thornton's I just . . . wasn't. And you're right,” he said. “I
was
running—from the shadow of Macon left inside me. It takes a good friend to tell you the truth, Mo. Thank you for being that friend for me.”

Me. A friend to Lavender.

I smiled. “The Desperados can help you whip that old store into a garage. I'll send over the painting division.”

He laughed. “You're on, Miss LoBeau. The Colonel tells me Miss Lana needs a night clerk at the inn—until I get the garage going. I think I'll be fine.”

The Colonel and Miss Lana never let me down.

A dark blue Volvo wheeled into the parking lot and parked by the Underbird. Bill Glasgow jumped out and popped his Stetson on. He reached into the backseat and pulled out a pet carrier.

A kitten? A hamster? Interesting.

Miss Rose slipped out the passenger side wearing a bright red coat.

A red coat?
What happened to her sensible gray coat?

“Miss Rose got a date coat,” I said. “She looks good.”

“Darned good,” Lavender said.

“I better get inside,” I told him. I hesitated. “I'm glad you're staying. I'll PR the grand opening of your garage, if you want me to. When it's time, I mean.”

He grinned. “Once again, you're on.”

Then I said what I've said maybe a million times before. “Give me half a chance and I'd snatch you up and marry you before sundown, Lavender. That's no lie.”

The words felt sweet to me, like a half-forgotten voice singing a lullaby.

He grinned his old grin. “Me? Marry you? You're a baby,” he said. He messed up my hair and headed for Miss Rose.

Lavender always settles my heart, even when he's walking away.

By the time I strolled into the café, the place was packed. Bill Glasgow was working his way through the clump of kids gathered around the puppies.

“Clear the way for Miss Rose's boyfriend,” I shouted. “Step aside.”

“Thanks, Mo. Hey, Dale,” Bill said. “How are the pups?”

“Cute,” Dale said.

Bill handed Dale the carrying case. “Dale, meet Madame Curie. Your mama and I thought she might keep Newton from being lonely. Like her?”

Does Dale like a hideously unattractive newt whose skin oozes toxins like Attila oozes mean? Of course he likes her.

“Thanks,” Dale said. “I never thought of Newton feeling lonely.”

Bill Glasgow smiled. “You know, I've been thinking about Newton's terrarium. Newts are awfully sensitive to pH—acidity. I was thinking . . .”

I walked away. Miss Lana says it's best not to know the end of some sentences. This sounded like one of them.

I hurried to our files. Capers placed her hands on her table as she watched Harm and me deal our photos around. “Nice gloves,” I told her, glancing over. “Are they new?”

She placed her hands back in her lap. “Got them in Raleigh.”

Odd, I thought, fluffy purple gloves in a warm café.

Little Agnes settled in by my photos. “This one's different,” she said, pointing. Her kindergarten skill.

Miss Lana says to be grateful. Little Agnes makes me grateful I'm an only child.

Flick swaggered in at three minutes 'til five, Joe Starr on his heels. Starr dropped a large evidence bag on the floor.

“Finally,” Harm muttered.

An Azalea Woman oozed a sympathy look at Dale. “Good for you, for turning Macon in. I can't wait to hear the details.”

Capers smiled. “So Macon really is behind bars? Great job. I'll want a quote.”

We need that DNA report, I thought, looking at Sal. Sal shook her head no.

Five p.m. Miss Lana sashayed over as Grandmother Miss Lacy and Mr. Red walked in arm in arm. “Showtime, sugar,” Miss Lana whispered. “People are standing in the parking lot, waiting for your news.”

I gulped. If this worked, it would work big. If we failed . . .

Live by the footlights, die by the footlights, Miss Lana always says.

“Colonel, could you cover the kitchen door?” I asked. “I don't want our suspects slipping out. Harm's got the main door.”

“Ten-four, Soldier.”

I stepped onto my Pepsi crate. Dale cleared his throat and tapped his index cards on his table.

Message received.

“Welcome to Desperado Detective Agency's Big Reveal,” I said. “At this time I'd like to introduce Dale, the lead investigator on our case. If Tupelo Landing's safe today—and it is—you can thank Dale.”

The room applauded—all except Capers. Odd.

Dale took center stage. “Thank you for coming,” he said. “I'm a big-picture person and Mo's detail, and that's one reason we're so good. Together with Harm, the newest Desperado, we got Daddy back in jail for the crimes he did.”

“Hear, hear! Well done!” the mayor said, and the café applauded.

Dale continued. “Lavender's Garage opens in a few weeks, with Sam opening a franchise branch in Greenville. And now, the Colonel says a good leader delegates, so I'm lobbing back to Mo for the details of our case, which ain't what you're thinking. When you start with the right given, you get the right answer. Miss Retzyl taught me that. Thank you.”

Miss Retzyl smiled at him. To me, she looked worried.

The crowd swiveled back to me. “Thanks to Dale, the Desperados have found the loot from the bank heist
and
the break-ins. Detective Starr?” I said, hoping I wasn't bluffing. “I believe it's all in evidence?”

“It is,” Starr said. Capers went pale.

BOOK: The Odds of Getting Even
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