Mystery of the Phantom Heist Page 7

  Frank and I watched the door slam shut. The officer looked up from his goofy cup and said, “Still want to speak to the chief?”

  “Um . . . could you excuse us?” Frank said politely.

  As we stepped away from the desk, I could still hear the sound of Sanford Peyton’s voice arguing with the chief behind closed doors.

  “Something tells me this is going to take a while,” Frank said.

  “Yeah.” I sighed. “And who knows if the chief will even speak to us after dealing with that?”

  Frank shrugged. “Maybe Mom and Dad ought to speak to the chief after all,” he said. “Maybe they would have more luck.”

  I shook my head. “I’m not ready to go there yet,” I said.

  “Then what?” Frank asked, trying to keep his voice down.

  “Let’s find Colin and get in his face,” I suggested. “We know where the Sylvesters live.”

  “Yeah, but how do we know Colin will be home?” Frank asked.

  “It’s Saturday morning, so he’s probably sleeping in,” I said. “Especially after a busy night of setting fires.”

  The chief and Sanford Peyton were still going at it when Frank and I left the police station.

  “Aren’t you glad we’re not working that party?” Frank said to me as he drove off.

  “That’s for sure.” I smiled. “I knew those togas were a bad sign!”

  The road leading to the Sylvester house was a steep one. It wound through a wooded area until reaching a three-story glass-walled house overlooking the bay. The place looked more like a dream getaway than a family home.

  “Glass walls,” I observed. “Doesn’t leave much to the imagination.”

  Frank parked at a safe distance.

  As we quietly walked toward the house, I couldn’t help but wonder what Colin was dreaming about as he slept in. More fires? A detonation somewhere? The possibilities were endless in a sick mind like his!

  Once at the house, Frank and I got nosy. We peered through the glass into what looked like the Sylvesters’ den. But unlike most dens, the walls weren’t lined with bookshelves or entertainment equipment. These walls were covered with guns and rifles!

  “Will you look at that?” I whispered.

  “There must be two dozen guns in there,” Frank whispered back. “Some look like antiques. One looks as old as the Civil War.”

  “That’s a lot of coinage,” I said.

  “Whatever they’re worth, it’s probably lunch money for the Sylvesters,” Frank scoffed.

  I couldn’t take my eyes off the guns. Why did the Sylvesters have them hanging in plain sight like that? As a warning to home invaders? Or to snoopers like Frank and me?

  “Joe!”

  “What?” I said, turning to Frank.

  “Colin is out on his deck,” he said. “I can see him through the glass.”

  “That’s what we’re here for,” I said. “Let’s go over to him and—”

  “He’s with his friends,” Frank finished.

  “Oh,” I said.

  I peered through the glass all the way out to the deck. There was Colin, leaning back in an Adirondack chair and eating what looked like a muffin. Standing around him and drinking coffee were the same guys from his school.

  “Five against two?” I said with a sigh. “I think this calls for a change of plans.”

  “Let’s go around the house,” Frank said. “Maybe we can hear what they’re talking about.”

  Sticking close to the wall, we moved toward the back where the deck stood. When we got to the end of the wall, we stopped and strained our ears to listen. We heard a few words thrown around but couldn’t make out the conversation.

  “This isn’t going to work,” Frank murmured.

  I was about to agree until I remembered something inside my jacket pocket—the ear amplifier Connie had given me at Dad’s office.

  “Let’s see if this thing works,” I whispered. After untangling the wire, I stuck the bud in my right ear. Yes! The voices of Colin Sylvester and his peeps were coming in loud and clear!

  I gave Frank a thumbs-up, then listened closely.

  “I wish you could taste how awesome this muffin is,” Colin was saying. “The blueberries are, like, the size of my fist.”

  I rolled my eyes. Colin’s breakfast? Was this how good it was going to get?

  “What?” Frank hissed, dying to know what I heard.

  Suddenly I heard a girl’s voice speak up. It sounded scratchy, as if it was coming through a speakerphone. It also sounded familiar.

  “So tell me about the plan,” she said. “How’s it coming along?”

  “The plan is going according to plan!” Colin chuckled. “Trust me, babe. Soon it’ll all be worth it.”

  “Yeah!” one of his friends said. “This is going to be huge!”

  Frank must have seen my eyes pop wide open. “What?” he whispered. “What are you hearing?”

  I shook my head as if to say, Wait. It was the girl’s voice I heard next.

  “Colin, you are soooo bad,” she said. “But that’s why you’re my guy.”

  I yanked out the earbud and turned to Frank. “Colin is planning something big,” I whispered. “And it’s going down soon.”

  “A plan?” Frank whispered. “What kind of plan?”

  “Don’t know.” I shrugged.

  “That’s it,” Frank said, no longer whispering. “I don’t care that he’s with his friends. We’re questioning him right now—”

  “Hello,” a voice said.

  Frank and I spun around. A tanned, middle-aged woman wearing a white tennis outfit was standing a few feet away.

  “G-good morning!” Frank stammered.

  “Um . . . Mrs. Sylvester?” I asked.

  “Mrs. Sylvester?” She laughed. “All of Colin’s friends call me Barbara.”

  “I meant . . . Barbara!” I said, laughing too. All the time my heart was pounding inside my chest. Had Colin’s mom seen us snooping around? Had she caught the listening device in my ear?

  “Why don’t I tell Colin you’re here?” Barbara Sylvester said, heading toward the deck. “I can get Helga to bring out more muffins.”

  “No!” Frank said quickly. “I mean, thanks, but we were just leaving.”

  “The muffins were great, by the way,” I said. “Blueberries the size of my fist!”

  I felt Barbara’s eyes on us as we hurried back to our car.

  “That was close,” Frank said.

  “Yeah, but what happened to questioning Colin?” I asked.

  “I’m not questioning anyone in front of his mom,” Frank said as we climbed back into the car. “So how soon is this plan going down? Did anyone say?”

  “No, but I found out something else,” I said.

  “What?” Frank asked.

  “It sounded like Colin Sylvester has a girlfriend,” I said. “He was talking to her on speakerphone.”

  “A girlfriend?” Frank scoffed as he turned the key. “Anyone interested in that guy has got to be bad news too.”

  “That’s for sure,” I agreed. “What do you think this ‘huge’ plan of his is, Frank?”

  Frank sighed as he turned the car around. “I don’t know,” he said. “But whatever it is—it can’t be good.”

  CHANGE OF PLANS

  11

  FRANK

  AS I DROVE FARTHER AWAY FROM THE Sylvester house, I couldn’t stop thinking about this plan Joe had heard about.

  How would we stop it when we didn’t know what it was?

  “Frank,” Joe interrupted my thoughts. “That girl on the speakerphone . . .”

  “What about her?” I asked.

  “Her voice sounded familiar,” Joe said.

  I shot him a sideways glance. He was staring out the passenger window, deep in thought.

  “You mean like someone from school?” I asked. “If she’s Colin’s girl, chances are she goes to Bay Academy.”

  “Then I wouldn’t know her,” Joe said, shrugging
it off. “It’s eleven o’clock. Do you think it’s too early for pizza?”

  “For you, no,” I said. “For me, yes.”

  “Think of it as a power lunch,” Joe said. “While we feast on pepperoni and mushrooms, we can talk about the case.”

  We had a lot to talk about, especially after what we’d heard at Colin’s.

  “You win,” I said, turning the car onto Bay Street. “Pizza, here we come.”

  Saturday was the busiest shopping day of the week, so I was lucky to find a parking spot right away.

  “Let’s go to Pie Squared, the place that makes those square-shaped pizzas,” Joe suggested.

  “Are the pepperoni square too?” I joked.

  Joe was too busy staring up the street to get my joke.

  “What is it?” I asked.

  “Check out who’s coming,” Joe said.

  Turning my head, I saw who Joe was talking about. Strutting toward us and swinging shopping bags from both hands was Lindsay Peyton. She was walking next to another girl, also armed with bags.

  “Good timing,” I said. “Let’s see what she knows about Colin.”

  It wasn’t sunny, but the two girls were wearing huge dark sunglasses. One of Lindsay’s bags smacked into my leg as the two breezed by.

  “Hey!” Joe called after them. “Remember us?”

  Lindsay peered over her shoulder. “Oh, it’s you two,” she said in a voice as cold as ice.

  “I’ve heard friendlier greetings at the Haunted Mansion,” Joe said as we walked over.

  “It happened to be an appropriate one,” Lindsay said, raising her chin. “You know, my dad had to get me a new car.”

  She turned to her friend and said, “Not that that was a bad thing, right, Grace?”

  “Right!” Grace laughed.

  The friends readied to high-five, only to realize their hands were full.

  “If you’re still saying we keyed your car, you’re wrong,” I said. “It was already keyed when we got to the parking lot.”

  “Whatever,” Lindsay said with a shrug.

  “You heard about all that gang stuff going around, didn’t you?” Joe asked.

  Lindsay stared at him. “Are you serious?” she said. “Do you know what tomorrow is?”

  “Sunday?” Joe said.

  “Omigosh, tomorrow is Lindsay’s Sweet Sixteen!” Grace said as if we’d just touched down from another planet.

  “Who has time to think about anything else?” Lindsay asked. She tilted her head and said, “So are you kicking yourself for not working my party?”

  Joe shook his head. “Togas aren’t my style.”

  Lindsay clicked her tongue in disgust. She and Grace were about to turn when I said, “Wait!”

  I couldn’t let Lindsay leave before asking her about Colin.

  “I heard you didn’t invite Colin Sylvester to your party,” I said quickly.

  Lindsay’s shoulders drooped at the mention of Colin. “Did he tell you that?” she asked.

  “No,” I said. “We must have overheard it somewhere. Can’t remember where or when—”

  “We just want to know why he’s not invited,” Joe cut in. “That’s all.”

  Lindsay pushed her sunglasses up on her head. She narrowed her eyes and said, “Because Colin Sylvester is a psycho creep—that’s why!”

  “Colin’s been trying to ask Lindsay out since middle school,” Grace said. “He even tried to get into our clique at school.”

  “And you kept turning him down?” I asked Lindsay.

  “I wouldn’t go out with Colin if he looked like an Abercrombie model,” Lindsay snapped. “I’m just glad he has a girlfriend now—maybe he’ll leave me alone.”

  “Who is she?” Joe asked.

  “Who?” Lindsay repeated.

  “Colin’s girlfriend,” Joe urged.

  “Is she bad news like him?” I asked.

  Lindsay wrinkled her nose and said, “What are you guys—some kind of investigative reporters?”

  “Sort of,” Joe said.

  “Whatever, I can’t talk now,” Lindsay said impatiently, dropping her sunglasses over her eyes. “I have a ton of stuff to do before my party tomorrow.”

  “Like having your eyebrows waxed in ten minutes!” Grace reminded her.

  “Gracie!” Lindsay complained as the two hurried away. “Like, thanks for letting them think I have a unibrow!”

  When the girls were out of earshot, I said, “Well, I guess it’s true that Lindsay hates Colin—he sounds like a creep.”

  We continued up the block, and Joe said, “Frank, do you think Colin’s big plan includes the Scaredevils?”

  “Probably,” I said. “The Scaredevils seem to be Colin’s sock puppets. They’ll do anything for his money.”

  “And I’ll do anything for pizza right now,” Joe said. “You know I can’t talk about a case on an empty stomach.”

  “Okay, okay,” I said, smiling. “We’re almost there.”

  Joe and I made our way to Pie Squared, where we shared a pepperoni pizza with olives and mushrooms.

  “So,” Joe said, popping a mushroom into his mouth. “What’s next on the agenda?”

  I wanted to answer him, but not with a big piece of mozzarella cheese hanging from my mouth over my chin. I must have looked pretty pathetic, especially when the door opened and in walked—of all people—Sierra Mitchell!

  I yanked the cheese from my mouth—only to get it tangled around my hand.

  “Hey, guys!” Sierra called with a wave.

  “Smooth, bro, real smooth,” Joe teased.

  When my hand was finally cheese free, I smiled coolly and said, “Hey.”

  “Don’t tell me you eat pizza for breakfast too,” Joe said to Sierra.

  “No,” Sierra said. “I’m actually here on a work mission. The party planners are toiling around the clock for Lindsay’s Sweet Sixteen tomorrow, so we all need lunch.”

  “We’re working today too,” I said. “Those pranks around Bayport are keeping us busy.”

  “Oh, that’s right, you’re detectives,” Sierra said. She then planted her hands on her hips and added, “Well, if you ask me, I think we’re all working a little too hard for a Saturday.”

  “It is what it is,” Joe said with a shrug.

  “We can still take a break,” Sierra said. Her eyes lit up. “Why don’t you come over to the Peytons’, Frank, and we’ll take one of their boats out for a spin?”

  “So Mr. Peyton can accuse us of trying to steal his boat?” I scoffed. “Thanks—but no thanks.”

  “Borrowing the boat is one of my job perks,” Sierra explained. “I get to use the small powerboat during my breaks.”

  “Not the yacht?” I joked.

  “Maybe when I become head event planner,” Sierra joked back. “But for now the small boat is cool. I took it out yesterday afternoon and had a blast.”

  I smiled at the thought of boating with Sierra—until I felt Joe kick me under the table and give me a look. Now what?

  “I know,” Sierra said excitedly. “Why don’t you come with us, Joe?”

  “Me?” Joe asked, surprised.

  “Him?” I asked, even more surprised.

  “The more the merrier,” Sierra said cheerily.

  “In that case,” Joe said, “thanks!”

  “Yeah, thanks,” I muttered to Joe. Better than nothing, I guess.

  “Super!” Sierra said as she glanced at her watch. “Meet me at the Peytons’ docks at two o’clock. Just go around the house to the back and I’ll be there.”

  Sierra then did something totally unexpected. She threw me a kiss before walking to the take-out counter. Me—not Joe!

  “I saw that,” Joe teased again. “She’s got it bad for you, big brother.”

  We finished our pizza, then got ready to go boating. I changed into khaki shorts, a polo shirt, and flip-flops. Joe pulled on a pair of cleaner jeans, sneakers, and a T-shirt sporting a soft-drink logo.

  “You look lik
e you go to Bay Academy!” Joe joked when we reached the Peyton house.

  “And you look like you’re in kindergarten!” I complained.

  There was no Peyton sighting as we headed around the house to the two docks.

  “Can you imagine what Sanford would do if he saw us trespassing like this?” Joe asked as we walked down a hill toward the bay.

  “We’re not trespassing,” I reminded him. “Taking out the boat is one of Sierra’s job perks. She told us herself.”

  “So where is Sierra?” Joe asked, looking around. “She told us she’d meet us here.”

  I didn’t see Sierra either. Were we about to get stood up?

  Joe whistled through his teeth as he moved up the docks. “Hey—check out Sanford’s awesome toys,” he said.

  There were three boats roped along the two docks—two luxury cabin cruisers and a smaller powerboat with a sleek V-shaped hull. Not too shabby, to say the least.

  “Frank, Joe,” Sierra’s voice called.

  I smiled when I saw Sierra at the top of the hill, but my good mood quickly faded. She looked upset.

  “What’s up?” I called up to her.

  “My supervisor just called,” Sierra said, her shoulders drooping. “She wants me to order a limo for the band.”

  “So you can’t go boating?” Joe asked.

  “Not right now,” Sierra said. “Why don’t you take the powerboat out in the meantime? I’ll meet you back on the dock in twenty minutes.”

  “It’s okay,” I said. “We’ll wait for you—”

  “No!” Sierra said kind of quickly. “Take the boat out, so I won’t feel so guilty. When was the last time you drove a boat?”

  “Last summer,” I said. “I have my license and everything.”

  “Great,” Sierra said, tossing me the key. “See you in twenty minutes, okay?”

  “Okay!” I called back.

  Sierra ran back to the house.

  “I guess we’re on our own,” I said as I walked up the dock to Joe. “At least for now.”

  Joe was already untying the powerboat. “All right!” he exclaimed. “Joy ride, baby!”

  As I walked up to the boat, I felt a little uneasy. Sure, it was pretty cool to take it for a spin, but I didn’t think Mr. Peyton would feel the same way. When I told Joe my thoughts, he waved me off.

  “He’ll never know,” he assured me as he stepped in.