Stacey and the Mystery at the Mall Read online

  “Don’t know!” she shouted over her shoulder, still running.

  People were converging on a spot near the store that sells giant cookies — three doors down from Toy Town — and the whole mall seemed to be watching to see what was happening. Store-owners were peering out through their windows, or standing in their doorways. On the upper levels, people were leaning over the balconies to watch the action. Shoppers walked quickly or ran toward the growing crowd. “Hey!” I heard an older man cry, as somebody knocked into him. The next thing I knew, he was sprawled on the floor, trying to get up. I wanted to help him, but I couldn’t leave the store.

  I yelled for April, and she came running. By then, several people had stopped to help the man. “What’s going on?” asked April. She looked out at the crowd. “What’s happening?”

  “I can’t figure it out,” I said.

  Just then, I heard shouting, and I saw two teenaged boys break away from the crowd. They started to run in my direction, but the woman police officer chased after them and grabbed them. “You’re under arrest,” I heard her say loudly. “You have the right to remain silent —”

  I turned to April. “Wow!” I said. “I bet they caught the shoplifters.”

  We looked back at the crowed, and saw that the police seemed to be arresting another boy — a tall guy, with black hair — and two girls. Several security officers were on hand, surrounding the kids. “They must have gotten the whole gang!” I exclaimed. I looked at the boy more closely, and realized I had seen him in the store when I first came in.

  Something made me turn from the doorway and glance over at the counter. “The Gamester!” I said. “It’s missing!”

  “Go tell the police!” said April. “Those kids must have just taken it.”

  I ran to the crowd, and straight to the woman officer, who was writing something in a little notebook. “I work at Toy Town,” I said, out of breath. “We’re missing a computer toy. It disappeared within the last few minutes.”

  She nodded, but didn’t speak. Instead, she turned to the cluster of teens who had been arrested and asked them to empty their pockets. One of the girls pulled out an expensive-looking lipstick, and another had hidden a scarf under her jacket. The policewoman told them to drop the stuff on the floor in front of them. Then she glared at the three boys, who hadn’t moved yet. “You, too,” she said. One of the boys, the one I had seen in the store earlier, started backing away. A security officer took a step toward him, and he shrugged and pulled something out of his pocket.

  “The Gamester!” I said out loud. I watched as the guy handed it to the policewoman.

  “That’s from our store!” I said. “Can I take it back there?”

  The boy scowled at me.

  The policewoman turned to me and shook her head. “Sorry, but you can’t. We’ll have to keep it for evidence.”

  I was disappointed. As soon as I had seen it emerge from the boy’s pocket, I had started to imagine how good it would feel to walk back to Toy Town and hand the Gamester to April.

  Mal turned up just then. “This is wild,” she said. “I can’t believe they caught the shoplifters!”

  Kristy, came up behind us, looking awfully happy — and proud. “It was a sting operation,” she explained in a whisper. “The whole thing was planned down to the last detail.”

  “You knew about it?” I asked.

  “Well, not until I got here today,” she admitted. “But I was working as back-up when they made the bust.” She was trying to act cool, but suddenly she dropped the act and grinned. “It was awesome,” she said.

  “Does this mean the shoplifting is going to stop now?” Mal asked.

  “Absolutely,” said Kristy. “You can go back to work and breathe easier.”

  Mal looked relieved — and I felt as if a weight had dropped off my shoulders. Working at Toy Town would be a real pleasure if I didn’t have to worry so much about shoplifters.

  When I returned to the store, April was talking to a policeman. “That’s wonderful,” she said, when he explained that they thought they had caught the entire gang.

  The officer left, after handing April a sheaf of police reports to fill out, and we looked at each other and smiled. “That’s a load off my mind,” said April. “I was actually a little worried sometimes about having Sandy in the store. I mean, what if he got in the way of someone who was armed, and he hurt him?”

  “That reminds me,” I said. “Remember I said I wanted to talk to you about something?” I explained my idea for the day-care center, and added some of the details my friends and I had come up with that day on the bus.

  “That sounds terrific! You girls will need lots of help for a big project like that, but I can already think of four or five store-owners who would love to be involved,” said April, smiling. Then her face fell. “The only thing is, you’ll need permission from the mall manager, and I don’t know if he’ll agree.”

  “Don’t you think he’ll like the idea?” I asked.

  “I don’t know. We used to bring up ideas like this with the old manager, Ms. Richards, and she never went for them. But now that there’s a new guy on the job — well, you never know. I guess it’s worth trying. You and your friends might have better luck.”

  “There’s a new manager?” I asked.

  April nodded. “He’s been working here for about six months,” she said. She picked up the police reports and began to look them over.

  I wanted to ask her a few more questions — such as how she thought we should approach the manager — but she looked busy, and anyway it was time to catch my bus home.

  I left the mall that day feeling hopeful. The shoplifters had been caught, and now we might have a chance to start working on our day-care center. Things were looking up.

  Kristy’s entry in her job diary was pretty accurate. We had each polled our bosses and co-workers about the day-care center, and everybody was wild about the idea. The only problem, apparently, would be getting the idea past the mall manager, Mr. Morton. It turned out that our idea wasn’t all that original: As April had said, other people had suggested something like it more than once. The old mall manager had always turned them down flat. So now it was our turn, with a new manager, and we were feeling pretty tense. I mean, it’s one thing to have a great idea, but it’s another thing to request an official okay for it.

  We had decided to approach Mr. Morton on Thursday, our day off. Ms. Garcia had told Kristy that Mr. Morton was always in his office on Thursday afternoons, and that he had let it be known that during that time he was available to talk to merchants or mall customers who had problems or questions. Kristy’s brother Charlie had agreed to drive us to the mall in the Thomas/Brewer van, and he arrived at our school right on time. We had all taken a few minutes after our last classes to spruce up, and I guess the effect was a little startling.

  “Wow,” said Charlie. “You guys look very — uh —”

  “Professional?” asked Kristy. “Is that the word you’re looking for?” She plucked nervously at the front of her white blouse.

  “I guess it’ll do,” said Charlie. He still looked shocked. “Man, I can’t remember the last time I saw you in a skirt,” he told his sister. Kristy blushed, and looked annoyed at the attention. “But you look really nice,” Charlie added hastily. “And so do the rest of you. Great tie, Logan.”

  Now it was Logan’s turn to blush as he looked down at the blue-and-red striped tie he was wearing with a white shirt and corduroy jacket. “I borrowed this from my dad,” he said. “It seemed like a good idea to wear one. We agreed to dress as if we were going on a really important job interview — not that any of us have actually been on a job interview before.” He laughed.

  I had to admit we were a pretty spiffy-looking crew. Claud and I had chosen conservative dresses with nice pumps and traditional accessories: no wild jewelry or wacky hairstyles. Mary Anne looked demure in a navy-blue dress with a white collar, and Jessi and Mal had both worn skirts with new sweater
s.

  We didn’t talk much during the ride to the mall, partly because we were feeling nervous but mostly because we had already spent so much time talking about the day-care center. We had agreed, during the bus ride home the day before, that Kristy would be our spokeswoman. She had rehearsed her speech and knew exactly what she was going to say.

  Charlie pulled up at the mall entrance and dropped us off. “I’ll be waiting here in an hour,” he said. “Good luck!”

  We jumped out and headed for our first stop: the security office. It’s on the main floor, down a hall near the food court, back where the mall bathrooms are. Kristy had told her boss, Ms. Garcia, that we would stop by to check in and get directions to the manager’s office.

  “My, don’t you all look nice,” said Ms. Garcia, after Kristy had introduced us. She was a small, wiry woman with black hair and flashing brown eyes. “I’m sure Mr. Morton will be impressed.” She turned to the little girl by her side. “This is my daughter, Kellie,” she said. “Her baby-sitter had to cancel today, so Kellie came to stay with me after school.”

  Kellie, who had the same dark eyes and hair as her mother, looked about six. “Having fun, Kellie?” asked Kristy, bending down to talk to her.

  Kellie shook her head. “Uh-uh,” she said. “It’s boring here. Mom won’t let me do anything but sit and watch her work.”

  “This office isn’t a great place for kids,” Ms. Garcia admitted. “And I don’t want her wandering around the mall by herself. Meanwhile, I haven’t gotten a thing done this afternoon. You can see why I support your idea.”

  “How about if we take Kellie with us to Mr. Morton’s office?” Kristy suggested. “It’ll free you up to work, and she might be able to help us convince him that this center is just what the mall needs.”

  “Great!” said Ms. Garcia. “Want to go, Kellie?”

  “Sure,” Kellie answered. I guess hanging out with a bunch of teenagers sounded like more fun than sitting in an office with her mom. She grabbed Kristy’s hand. “Can we get ice cream after?”

  Kristy glanced at Ms. Garcia, who shrugged and nodded. “Well, maybe,” said Kristy. “We’ll see.”

  “Mr. Morton’s office is near the end of this corridor,” said Ms. Garcia, leading us to the door and pointing down a hall. “It’s the third door on the left.” She patted Kristy on the back. “Good luck!”

  I have to say that walking down that hall was one of the most nerve-wracking experiences I’ve had in a long time. We seemed to feel more and more nervous the closer we got to that third door on the left. Kellie clung to Kristy’s hand, and it looked to me as though Kristy was clinging right back. Mary Anne and Logan were also holding hands, and I noticed that Mary Anne’s knuckles had turned white. Jessi and Mal were biting their lips, and Claud was toying with her (fake) pearl necklace. As for me, well, I was feeling kind of light-headed, which made me wonder if I would have to break out my insulin kit right there in the manager’s office. What if my blood sugar went crazy when Kristy was in the middle of her pitch? Thinking about it made me even more anxious, so I tried to distract myself — and the others — by starting a conversation about a movie playing at the mall that week.

  “Did you guys see that movie poster?” I asked.

  “I not only saw the poster,” said Jessi, “I’ve seen the movie. Ten times. It’s not so great.”

  That was the end of that. I tried to come up with another subject, but my mind was blank. It didn’t matter, though, because by then we had reached the door and we were clustered around it, shooting nervous glances at each other. “I don’t know if I’m ready for this,” said Kristy. “I mean, that last manager sounded really mean. What if Mr. Morton hates the idea and just kicks us out? Then we’ll have to go tell everybody we failed.”

  That didn’t sound like Kristy. She’s not usually a worrier.

  “We can still back out,” said Mary Anne. “I mean, it’s not like we actually have an appointment or anything. He’d never know if we just turned around and left right this minute.” She looked as if she wanted to bolt.

  But then, Kellie sealed our fate. She reached up and banged on the door. “Knock, knock,” she cried. “Anybody home?”

  “Oh, my lord,” Claud said under her breath.

  Kellie giggled, as if this were a big game. The rest of us looked at each other wide-eyed. “We can’t leave now!” whispered Logan. Then we heard footsteps, and the door swung open.

  “Well, hello,” said the man who had opened the door. “What have we here?”

  He was friendly looking, dressed in jeans and a white shirt. He folded his arms and looked us over. “Can I help you with something?”

  None of us had said a word yet. He must have thought we were nuts, standing there silently in our perfectly pressed clothes.

  “Uh — we’re looking for Mr. Morton,” said Kristy. “The mall manager?”

  “You’ve found him,” replied the man. He stuck out his hand. “Ted Morton, at your service.” I was surprised — he was much younger than I expected.

  Kristy stuck out her hand, and they shook. “Kristy Thomas,” she said. Suddenly, she sounded more like the Kristy I knew. Confident, secure, and ready to take on the world. “These are my friends,” she went on. She introduced us all, including Kellie. “We were wondering if you might have some time to talk to us about a project we have in mind.”

  “Of course, of course,” he said. “That’s what I’m here for.” He opened the door wide. “Come on in,” he went on. “I don’t know if I have room for everybody to sit, but please try to make yourselves comfortable.”

  He led us into his office, which was messy, with files and stacks of papers spread out all over the desk. There were only a couple of chairs, and Kristy grabbed the one nearest to his desk. Mr. Morton sat in his own chair, behind the desk. The rest of us leaned against the cabinets or just stood near the wall. I took Kellie’s hand and stood with her next to a copy machine that sat in one corner.

  Mr. Morton leaned back in his chair and smiled around at us. “You look like an enterprising bunch of kids,” he said. “Tell me about your project.”

  “Well,” said Kristy. “It’s more of a business than a project. See …” She began her speech. She told him about Project Work, and a little about the BSC. Then she started to explain about the day-care center, and why we thought it would be a good idea. At one point, she interrupted herself to reintroduce Kellie and tell him why she was with us, and then she went back to explaining how we thought the center could be set up. She told him that a group of store-owners were already ready to take responsibility for running it, probably so he wouldn’t be able to dismiss us as just a bunch of kids. “So that’s it!” she said.

  Mr. Morton was silent for a few beats. Then he grinned at Kristy. “I like it!” he said. “I like it a lot. It’s a terrific idea.”

  I let out a breath I had been holding for what seemed like five minutes.

  “I had a feeling you’d like it,” said Kristy. “I mean, being a parent yourself, I knew you’d understand.”

  “Parent?” repeated Mr. Morton. “I’m not even married. I don’t have kids.”

  “Oh!” said Kristy. “I thought you did. I’ve seen you on the security videotapes a bunch of times, talking to some kids. I just assumed they were yours.”

  “Nope!” he said. “Not mine. Probably, um, just some young customers …” He stood up and started to pace around a little. He looked excited. “Okay, here’s the deal,” he said. “I have an empty storefront by the games arcade. I’ll let your group use it for half of the regular rent. If you can convince your bosses — and the other merchants — to come up with the rest of the rent, you can have your center.”

  “YESSS!” shouted Kristy, pumping her fist in the air. Then she caught herself. She looked down and smoothed her skirt, blushing. “I mean, thank you very much. That’s great news.”

  * * *

  Five minutes later, we were at the ice cream parlor and Kellie was licki
ng a chocolate cone. In fact, we all treated ourselves (I ordered pure fruit sherbet) and had a regular celebration. Everything had happened so fast, we could hardly believe it. But it was definitely not a dream. Our day-care center was going to become a reality!

  “Phew! There sure is a lot to do,” said Kristy, looking over a sheaf of papers that April had just handed her. It was the following Tuesday, and we were in the middle of our second planning meeting for the day-care center. All the members of the BSC were there — our bosses had agreed to let us take extra time off for the meetings — plus April and two other store-owners who had agreed to help us start the center.

  April had left her part-time employee, a woman named Sarah who usually works Fridays, Saturdays, and Sundays, in charge of Toy Town. She and I had hurried over to the store that would soon house the day-care center, where we had met the others. Mr. Williams, who manages the Cheese Outlet, was there, and so was Ms. Snyder, who’s a salesperson at Lear’s, the main department store in the mall. Both of them had already talked to April about wanting to help, and they were eager to get started. But April had been the most enthusiastic. She had spent the last few days running around doing research.

  The papers Kristy was looking over were regulation lists and application forms that April had picked up from the people who are in charge of licensing for day-care centers. “I guess this isn’t something you can just casually jump into,” Kristy said now, after she had read through some of the material. “There’s a lot to figure out. Like, if kids are going to bring food with them, we’ll need to have a refrigerator. And that’s the least of it. We also have to hire enough staff to cover the requirements for kids at all different age levels. Plus we have to set up different areas for babies, toddlers, and school-age kids. And there are a ton of health regulations.”

  “We can do it,” said April. “It’s just a matter of working through these forms and setting things up correctly. Then the licensing people come and do inspections, and after that we’ll be on our way.”