Stacey and the Stolen Hearts Page 6

  “We’re going to talk about Valentine’s Day,” she said. Haley translated.

  Matt nodded. He didn’t look too thrilled.

  Mary Anne had to admit that it didn’t sound like much fun. “Then we’ll have some cookies,” she added. She and Logan had made chocolate chip cookies the day before. Kristy’s mom had explained that focus group participants were usually paid or given gifts for their trouble.

  Matt’s face brightened. His hands flew.

  “He wants to know if he can have five,” Haley said, laughing. “He’s a cookie monster.”

  Mary Anne promised that there were plenty of cookies to go around.

  By then, everyone had arrived. The noise level in the barn was rising fast. Logan put two fingers into his mouth and whistled loudly. “Hi, everybody!” he said when he had their attention. “How about if we all sit down in a circle?”

  Mary Anne, Jessi, and Mal helped to herd the kids toward the chairs. Then there was a flurry of seat switching. Vanessa had to sit next to Becca and Charlotte. Nicky didn’t want to be anywhere near Jordan, Adam, and Byron, because they were in a teasing mood. Matt needed to sit near Haley, so she could sign for him, and she wanted to sit near Becca, Charlotte, and Vanessa, which meant that James and Johnny had to pick up and move. Mathew hovered near the circle, waiting to see where Mary Anne was going to sit. (By then it had become pretty obvious that he had a crush on her.) Claire saved a seat for Margo, but as soon as Margo sat down, James (who was in the seat next to her) popped up and, blushing, dashed to the other side of the circle.

  “Ready to have a seat?” Logan asked Mathew, smiling.

  “Leave me alone!” said Mathew, turning his back on Logan.

  Logan raised his eyebrows. “What’s going on?” he mouthed to Mary Anne.

  “Tell you later,” she mouthed back. Then she took a seat and patted the chair next to her. “Mathew, want to sit here?” she asked.

  His face turned red, then white. “Um, okay,” he said, gulping. He sat down gingerly, shooting shy glances on Mary Anne’s other side.

  Jessi and Mal found seats, too, and for a second everybody was quiet as they looked around the circle at each other. Then Adam broke the silence — with a loud belch.

  “Good one!” said Jordan, giving him a high five.

  “Oh, ew,” said Charlotte.

  “Boys are so gross,” said Becca.

  “At least we don’t have cooties, like girls do,” yelled Nicky.

  Adam, Jordan, and Byron started a belching contest.

  “Make them stop,” pleaded Margo, who is notorious for her weak stomach. “I’m afraid I’m going to hurl.”

  Logan gave another of his loud, shrill whistles. Then he put his hands in a T shape. “Time-out,” he said. “We’re here for a reason, you know,” he continued, as soon as the belching and yelling had stopped. “How about if we get started?”

  “What are we supposed to do again?” asked Nicky. “Mal told me, but I don’t remember.”

  “We’re just going to talk about Valentine’s Day,” Logan explained. “We already know there’s a lot you don’t like about it, but we want to know what you do like.”

  Silence.

  Then Margo spoke up in a shy voice. “I like it when Vanessa writes me my own special poem,” she said.

  Vanessa smiled, looking extremely pleased. “Thanks, Margo,” she said. “And I like it when you give me a card you made yourself.”

  “Making cards is fun,” said Claire. “And you don’t have to worry about the kind you want being sold out at the store either.”

  “I like it when I get tons and tons of cards,” said Haley. Next to her, Matt signed a quick sentence. “So does Matt,” she said. “But he doesn’t like pukey romantic ones,” she added quickly, as Matt signed some more.

  “I don’t think Valentine’s Day has to be about romantic stuff,” said Becca. “I think it’s about friendship. I like to send cards to all my friends, but that doesn’t mean I want to marry them.”

  Everybody loudly agreed with that.

  “And I think it’s good if you don’t leave anybody out,” said Margo. “So nobody’s feelings are hurt. If you give cards at all, you should give them to everybody in your class. That was the rule my teacher made last year.”

  “And I don’t think Valentine’s Day has to be about just cards,” put in James. “In Australia, we always had cupcakes and candy hearts and all.”

  “I think Valentine’s Day could also be a time to show somebody that you appreciate them,” said Vanessa. “Like, I gave my mom a card last year.”

  “And you can make things besides cards and cupcakes,” put in Becca. “My cousin does crafts for Valentine’s Day. Once she sent me a beautiful ceramic heart. I’d like to learn how to make one.”

  Logan, busy scribbling notes, took a break to glance at the other sitters and give them the thumbs-up sign. The focus group was working. If we paid attention to the information the kids were giving us, we could create the best Valentine’s Day festival ever.

  “The kids were amazing!” On Thursday morning, as we walked to school together, Mal was still full of news about the focus group. She and Mary Anne were excited about the festival.

  The sitters who had run the focus group had told us about it at Monday’s meeting. We’d learned so much from the kids, and it had really helped with our planning for the Valentine’s Day festival, which would take place that afternoon. I hadn’t been in on much of the planning, since my friends had sort of excused me from helping out (I was way too busy with the valentine-gram business). But I’d been there for Wednesday’s meeting, when we discussed the final details, and I knew it was going to be a great event.

  “We still have a lot of work to do,” said Mary Anne, “but this is one party that’s guaranteed to please our charges.”

  “That’s terrific,” I said. And I meant it. But I couldn’t seem to match their level of enthusiasm. Don’t get me wrong. I love a party as much as the next person, especially if it involves a room full of happy kids. It’s just that my mind was on other matters.

  My friends had worked hard all week long, tailing suspects and collecting clues. But today was going to be different. We were no closer to solving the “mystery of the stolen hearts,” as Mal had taken to calling it, and I could see that my BSC friends now had something else on their minds.

  I couldn’t depend on them for help anymore. If I was going to find the missing valentine-grams — and solve the mystery of who had taken them, and why — I was going to have to do a lot of the work myself. And I didn’t have much time.

  Stacey McGill, solo detective.

  I didn’t mind, really. I knew I could count on my friends to help, if and when I really needed them. Meanwhile, my job was clear. I had to examine every suspect, investigate every lead, check out every clue.

  My first mission? To follow up on my suspicions about Robert. I didn’t like having him on my suspect list, and I wanted to clear his name. But how?

  I decided to deal with the problem head-on. Now that Robert and I had finally had our talk, maybe he’d be more approachable. And if so, why not just flat-out ask him if he’d been involved? One thing I happen to know about Robert is that he’s not a good liar. And he has never been able to lie to me. If he was telling the truth, I’d know it.

  As Mal and Mary Anne and I approached the entrance to SMS, I spotted Robert and his friends hanging out near the flagpole. I told my friends I’d see them later and headed toward Robert. He saw me coming and walked toward me.

  “Hi,” he said. He looked happier today. Maybe all he’d needed was to talk about his feelings a little.

  “Hi, yourself,” I said. We smiled at each other. “Hey, Robert,” I said casually, “I wanted to ask you something.”

  “Haven’t I heard those words before?” he replied, teasing me a little. I remembered then that I’d used the exact words to begin our talk the other day.

  “I guess you have,” I said, laughing.
“But this is a different something.”

  “Go ahead,” he said. He didn’t look nearly as nervous as he had before.

  “I don’t know how to ask you this,” I began, “so I’ll just put it as simply as I can. Did you have anything to do with the stolen valentine-grams?”

  “What?” Robert asked. “What are you talking about?” He looked completely shocked.

  “You know, the valentine-grams,” I repeated.

  “I know, I know. I mean, how could you even think I would do a thing like that?”

  “I — I just thought maybe you couldn’t figure out any other way to let Jacqui know you weren’t interested,” I said lamely. The idea seemed ridiculous as soon as I’d said it out loud.

  “You’re crazy, Stacey McGill,” said Robert, laughing. He shook his head. “I know you love to solve mysteries, but this time you’re going to have to keep working. I didn’t do it, and I don’t know who did. But if I find out anything, I’ll be sure to let you know.” He walked off, still shaking his head.

  Oh, well. I knew he wasn’t lying. The good news was that Robert was off the suspect list. The bad news? The suspect list was still about a mile long.

  I headed into school to meet Pete at the valentine-gram table. We’d taken care of most of the replacement valentine-grams by now, but we still had plenty of customers, especially since we’d put up a big sign promising that there was no way we’d let the thief strike again. Pete had bought a pair of plastic handcuffs at the toy store, and he’d made a big show of locking the new valentine-gram bag to his wrist during the hours we were open. Between times, we stored the bag in the principal’s office, where it would be safe.

  As we worked together that morning, I kept stealing glances at Pete. So far, he was still a suspect. Had he really been so nervous about sending a valentine-gram to Emily that he’d staged the burglary?

  When the bell rang for homeroom, I watched as Pete shoved a stack of valentine-grams into the bag. Suddenly, it came to me. Why would Pete steal the valentine-gram bag? He had total access to it. If he’d really wanted his valentine-gram back, he could have rummaged through the bag to find it — anytime at all.

  Scratch another suspect.

  The list was growing shorter, little by little.

  In English class, I spotted the next person on my list. Cary Retlin. Supposedly he had an alibi. But isn’t that “I was at the dentist” line the oldest one in the book? I decided to check it out. First, I had to find out which dentist he went to. After class, I approached Cary. “Hey,” I said, trying to sound friendly and concerned, “how did it go at the doctor’s the other day? Everything okay?”

  (Notice how I said “doctor.” I learned that from Columbo. Ever watch Columbo reruns? They’re great. The detective on that show always acts clueless, which sets the suspect’s mind at ease. Then he goes in for the kill.)

  “I wasn’t at the doctor,” Cary said without batting an eye. “I was at the dentist. And if you don’t believe me, you can check it out. I go to Dr. Rice. His number’s in the phone book. Just look under ‘alibi.’ ”

  Oh. I’d been prepared to have to trick him into telling me his dentist’s name. Cary was letting me know that he knew what I was up to.

  “I believe you, I believe you,” I said, putting up my hands and backing away.

  Ha. As soon as I was out of his sight, I sprinted for the phone. But Dr. Rice’s receptionist confirmed what Cary had told me. Another suspect cleared.

  As I hung up, a notice pinned to the bulletin board next to the phone caught my eye. I looked closer. “Oh, no,” I groaned, pulling it down, I read it carefully.

  Oh, lord. Perfect nose? If this valentine-gram were plastered all over the school, Jim was never going to live it down. Somebody had used a photocopy machine to copy the actual valentine-gram this time, so there was no doubting that it was the real thing.

  I walked down the hall on my way to lunchtime duty at the valentine-gram table, pulling down every copy I saw. There were plenty of them. Poor Jim. “Check this out,” I said to Pete as I slid into my seat.

  Pete glanced at it. “I’ve seen it already,” he said shortly.

  That’s when I remembered the disagreements I’d overheard between Jim and Pete. I asked him what they’d been about.

  “Nothing, really. Jim was going to stuff the valentine-gram bag with prank valentines,” said Pete.

  “What?” I asked. “So he’s the one who —”

  “I don’t think so,” interrupted Pete. “I told him not to do it. That’s what we were fighting about. And anyway, would he have done this to himself?” He pointed to the words perfect nose.

  “I guess not,” I admitted.

  “That doesn’t mean he didn’t do the other ones,” Pete said. “For all I know, he went ahead and pranked his heart out.”

  I remembered how Abby heard Rose Marie telling Brian that the valentine-grams between her and Clarence King were made up. Maybe she was telling the truth after all.

  I took another look at the copied valentine-gram — and that’s when I saw it. Something that made my heart race. “Whoa,” I said to myself. I wasn’t ready to share my discovery with Pete. This was a job for the BSC. “I — I have to go,” I blurted out to Pete. Then I ran into the cafeteria, looking for my friends.

  Kristy, Claudia, and Mary Anne were sitting at our usual table, and I saw Abby working her way across the crowded room, tray in hand. Great. Except for Jessi and Mal, the whole team was on hand.

  “Stripes!” I said, throwing the copied valentine-gram down onto the table. “We have to find the stripes.”

  “What are you talking about?” asked Kristy, looking at me as if I’d gone nuts.

  “Perfect nose?” asked Abby, who’d arrived and plunked down her tray. “Sabrina Bouvier has a perfect nose? You could have fooled me.”

  “Forget the nose,” I said. “Look at the stripes.”

  “I see!” said Mary Anne. “Look,” she said to the others. She pointed at the copy. The actual valentine-gram was smaller than the paper it had been copied on. “Look at this faint imprint of a hand and part of a sleeve. Whoever copied this was wearing a striped shirt. And if the copy was made today, that person would still be wearing the shirt.”

  “Bingo!” I shouted. “So let’s find him!”

  “Or her,” Kristy pointed out.

  “Right,” I said. “Or her, or them. Or it. I don’t care. Let’s just find the person who did this — now!”

  “Right,” said Kristy. “Let’s fan out. Everybody look for stripes!” She pushed back her chair and stood up, ready for action.

  “Wait a second,” I said. I was in a hurry, too, but by then I’d collected my thoughts enough to know we had to have a plan. “First of all, let’s decide who’s going where. And we have to think about what we’ll do if we see someone wearing stripes.”

  Mary Anne spoke up. “I don’t think we should confront the person right away. Wouldn’t it be better if we could catch the culprit in the act?”

  “Yeah,” said Claudia. “Like, when he or she’s making copies or posting them in the halls.”

  “Definitely,” agreed Abby. “Let’s just say that if we spot stripes, we’ll report back to Stacey.”

  “Great,” I said. “I’ll be cruising the halls and I shouldn’t be hard to find. Now, who wants to check the library?”

  “I will,” called Mary Anne. “I go there a lot after lunch anyway, so it won’t look suspicious.”

  “I’ll check the gym,” volunteered Logan, who had stopped at our table to visit Mary Anne and stayed when he heard what was going on.

  “Actually,” I told him, “there’s another place I need you to check. Abby, could you go to the gym instead?”

  Abby nodded. “Sure,” she said. “My free-throw shot could use a little work anyway.”

  “Where do you want me to go?” asked Logan.

  “Somewhere the rest of us wouldn’t be able to go,” I said with a little grin. “The boys�
� bathrooms.”

  “Right,” said Logan, laughing. “I’ll cover that area. No problem.”

  “I can check the art room,” said Claudia.

  “Excellent,” I said. “What about you, Kristy?” I asked.

  She was still standing. “I’ll look around outside, on the school grounds. There are always some kids out there at lunchtime, even if it’s cold.”

  “That covers it,” I said.

  “Um,” Mary Anne said gently. “Isn’t there one place we’re forgetting?”

  I frowned. As far as I knew, we’d mentioned all the popular lunchtime hangouts. “I don’t think so,” I said. Then I saw Mary Anne’s gaze travel around the cafeteria, which was still about half full. “Oh!” I said, suddenly understanding. “Duh.” I smacked myself on the forehead and made a goofy face. “The cafeteria. Of course.”

  My friends and I spread out to do a quick check of the lunchroom. It was strange to be looking only at people’s clothes and not their faces. I couldn’t have told you who I passed as I walked around, but I could have given a complete report on what they were wearing.

  We met again near the main doors.

  “Floral prints certainly are big this season,” commented Claudia.

  “So are solids,” added Abby.

  “But not a stripe in sight,” said Mary Anne, sighing. “This may be harder than we think.”

  “Actually,” I said, “the fact that nobody’s wearing stripes makes it easier. This way, the stripe wearer will really stand out.”

  “Good point,” said Kristy, who was shifting impatiently from foot to foot. “Now, what are we waiting for?”

  My friends were back on the case. I told you I could count on them. “Nothing,” I said with a big smile. “Let’s go!” I pushed open the doors.

  We fanned out, looking like the BSC version of a SWAT team. The others took off quickly, heading for their destinations. But I strolled along at a relaxed pace, since I wasn’t going anywhere in particular. My plan was to walk the halls, check every person I saw for stripes.

  Now, I’m a friendly person, and normally I like to make eye contact with people and say “hi” to the ones I know. But that day, people must have thought I was in a terrible mood. I didn’t smile at a single person. My mind was on stripes, and nothing else mattered.