The Shirley Link Box Set: A Middle Grade Mystery Series

by Ben Zackheim

  Wall. No signs of high heat on the wall or ceiling. I smell the surface to be sure. Nope, no blowtorch involved.

  Windows. The one set of windows in the room faces north. I measure them. Three feet wide. There was no way for the thieves to haul it out the window.

  Door. I measure the door. Three feet wide. Ditto.

  Apparently, the office remodel had effectively locked the safe in here forever.

  Ceiling. I glance up. The ceiling consists of ceiling tiles. Two feet wide. Fire retardant and noise dampening from the looks of it. I stand on the desk and poke at one. It moves easily. I hang from one of the rails that holds the tiles in place. Very sturdy.

  I drop and study the room from on top of Mr. Reese's desk.

  There's Wylie and Marie, watching me work as they always do - - slightly awed, majorly interested and, in Marie's case, kind of jealous. It's the jealous days that challenge our friendship sometimes. She's always so focused on my talents that she misses her own. I'm there to remind her of them, I suppose. That's what friends are for. But I do sometimes wonder if it's all worth it. Friendship, I mean. That's the loner in me.

  The office is as messy as Mr. Reese's hair. Piles of paper are stacked willy-nilly. The white carpet is stained gray-white in most places.

  Two wall hangings. One is Mr. Reese's University diploma. Brown University. Good school. The other is a picture of a beach. It looks like a photo that came with the frame. It's familiar.

  I write all of this down in my small notebook, in number two pencil.

  Needs sharpening.

  "You said that the police are suspicious of you, Mr. Reese?" I ask.

  "Well, it's embarrassing, but yes. In addition to being the only person who knew the combination there's the fact that the safe was in my office which only I have the key to."

  "Those would be valid concerns if the lock on your door wasn't so easy to pick. Not to mention the fact that the thief took the entire safe, so knowing the combination isn't needed for this crime."

  "That's what I said! But there's also the matter of..." He glances at Marie and Wylie, unsure how to proceed. I help him out.

  "Your financial difficulties," I finish for him. I have an email alert set up at uscourts.gov, so every time someone local files for bankruptcy I know. Nosey of me, yes, but that's my nature. "No need to say any more. There are a lot of people hurting these days. Thanks for your time, Mr. Reese. Let's go learn some math," I say to my assistants. I mean friends. Wylie sighs. He hates math.

  "Did you find anything interesting?" Mr Reese asks.

  "Yup," I say, and head out. I hate to leave him like that but I can't tip him off. It's bad form.

  As I walk down the hall I can feel the pressure on the back of my head. Marie and Wylie are waiting to hear what I think.

  "Why would the thief take the safe?" Marie asks.

  "Yeah. I'd just pick it, take the money and run," Wylie agrees.

  "And who could get a safe that size out of an office?" I add.

  "It must have been a bunch of guys," Wylie concludes.

  "Math, Wylie!" I say, pretending to be excited. "Your favorite class. Shall we?" I gesture for my assistants to go into the classroom first. I mean friends.

  I notice Mrs. Gattis watching me from the end of the hallway.

  I fake-smile.

  She really frowns.

  Chapter 4: Everyone Looks Guilty

  With her growling glare etched in my head I kind of hope Mrs. Gattis is the crook. I wouldn't put it past her. How can she afford the expensive spices for her dog's meals? I'll have to look into that.

  If I were evil (something I ponder when I'm angry at the world) I could easily frame her. She'd be lawyering up in time for American Idol. If I were evil. But having a cop for a mom has stuck a whole slew of morals and deductive charity into my heart. Going to the Dark Side of the Force has never been an option for me.

  Plus, I'm not ashamed to say it, I love applause. Even if it's from a small crowd.

  So I let Mrs. Gattis' glare burn a hole in my pride and then concentrate on keeping Wylie focused on math, which is a full-time job. Every time I turn around he's either making eyes at Molly Blake or folding a paper airplane. I've taken to flicking his ear lobe with my finger. It's quiet. It gets his attention. And it drives him nuts. Maybe I am evil after all. I really, really enjoy driving him nuts.

  "Prime numbers. What a stupid term," Wylie growls as we walk to the cafeteria after class.

  "Hey, he was listening," Marie says, surprised.

  "Yeah I was listening. I just don't get why I need to know it."

  "You'd be surprised how math can come in handy. When I helped my dad get into the Tomb of Horemheb's Court in Egypt last year, the Axis of Symmetry of a Parabola saved his life."

  Suddenly, I'm walking alone. My friends are two paces back, arms crossed. I've 'gone boring' on them again, apparently.

  "What? It's the line passing through the focus and vertex of a parabola. The Axis of Symmetry is perpendicular to the directrix. If he'd cut the tomb door any other way the whole place would have come down."

  Ms. Conway enters the hall from her library and sees me. She walks in the other direction, but she's first on my list to interview.

  "Excuse me, Ms. Conway," I say, catching up to her. "Can I ask you a couple of questions, please?"

  "What can I do for you Shirley?" she says with no small amount of irritation. She keeps walking.

  "Mr. Reese told me about the stolen safe..."

  "Did he? He does have a hard time keeping secrets."

  That's an interesting thing to say.

  "Are you worried that the new library wing won't be built?"

  "Worried? No, I think we'll do just fine without it. I've always thought it was a little too much for a school library to have a History of Media wing. Ninety percent of the Media volumes are already indexed in our collection."

  "Wouldn't it be a real feather in the cap, though? Surely if you were in charge of something like that it would be good for your career."

  Ms. Conway stops walking and looks at me, puzzled. "You are an interesting young lady, Shirley. Yes I suppose it would be good for my career, but that's not why I'm a librarian. I want to serve the needs of my community and I'm not sure how this expansion will do anything but make Mr. Reese look better to the school board. When my career is over I want to have a clear conscience as I kick back on the beach with a book or four thousand. Now if you'll excuse me."

  We watch her walk down the hall.

  "A librarian who doesn't want to expand her library," Wylie says suspiciously, trying to lead me into a discussion.

  "It is weird. But she could be standing on principle here," I say.

  "More like standing on principal. As in Principal Reese," Marie cracks. But she has a point.

  Ms. Conway does not heart Mr. Reese.

  Chapter 5: Creepiness Begins

  It's a beautiful day and it's study period. I'm camped out in Tower Stage, the outdoor theater where the annual school play is shown.

  I Google Mrs. Gattis on my phone.

  She's independently wealthy having inherited a few oil wells in Louisiana that her granddad bought in 1942. This accounts for her expensive tastes. I have no idea why she chooses to be in a job that makes her miserable. But it's possible she would hate any job, and all the people associated with it.

  For now, she's off the hook.

  "Hi. Have you seen Wylie around?" Molly Blake, Wylie's future girlfriend, interrupts my train of thought. She stands on the stage below me.

  According to Marie, I look mean when I'm thinking. The frightened expression on Molly's face bears that out.

  So I turn on my big smile and am about to answer...

  "Never mind," she says as she backs off and walks away quickly.

  "That was chilling," Marie says. "Really. You should just never smile."

  I forgot Marie is sitting next to me on the bleachers, taking in the sun. I need to work on being awa
re of my surroundings when I'm pondering evidence.

  "She likes Wylie," I say.

  "He is cute," Marie acknowledges. "She should get to know him, though. It's hard to like someone who eats like he does."

  Wylie is not one to remember that he has food in his mouth when he's talking. I've given him until October 13th to get it together or he'll be eating lunches without me.

  Suddenly Marie gasps. She points to the stage.

  Standing in the shadows is a slight man, thin and hunched over. I can't make out his face but I know who it is. Mike, the school janitor and general busy-body, is watching us. He always creeps out the kids. He seems to enjoy it on some level. I don't like him, but he's a great source for information.

  "Hello Mike," I say. He emerges into the bright sunlight but still manages to look creepy.

  "You scared me to death! Why are you standing there?" Marie asks, angry. That's one thing I really like about her. She's not afraid to say what she means, even to adults.

  "Sorry girls," he says with a slight smirk. "Was wondering if I could get a few minutes with you Shirley. If it's no trouble."

  "What for?" I ask. I don't like being alone with Mike.

  "This would be in reference to the heretofore unspoken and unknown monetary amount, now missing." That's the other thing about Mike. He always tries to sound smart, but he isn't. At all.

  "We can talk here," Marie and I say together. But he shakes his head and walks back into the shadows. His long, bony finger sticks out into the light and gestures for us to follow.

  We can just make out his shadow ahead of us in the dim light of the area under the stage. He flicks on a light which helps brighten things a little. But the whole scene is way too reminiscent of a horror movie.

  "Let's get out of here," Marie says.

  "We need information to solve the case. He may have something," I say. "Besides." I pull my pepper spray from my bag and wave it in front of her face.

  "See now that's a pretty smile," Marie says.

  I don't really pay much attention to my looks but I've had more people tell me I'm pretty than tell me I'm not. I have to follow facts so I guess I can be cute on good days. I usually wear my glasses to make it a non-issue. It's amazing how glasses can make you invisible.

  "Just over here. Around the corner," says Mike from up ahead. I lift up the pepper spray, readying it for its first use since the Stolen Chicken Caper two years ago (also a Mr. Reese production).

  When we find Mike he's sitting at a round table in a small workshop. Only one light hangs from the ceiling, barely illuminating the walls of tools. I fight a shiver and sit down across from him.

  "My deepest apologies for the environs, Shirley. But it's best that we be out of view for this particular unpleasant interaction. I hear you're aiding Mr. Reese on this case of the disappearing safe."

  "That's right."

  "Well this is the thing, see? That librarian is up to something. She's here at nights. Sometimes all night. I only know this because I have to be here for lockdown, maintenance, storm prep, school opening. I pretty much live here, you know."

  "I didn't know that," I say, trying to be conversational.

  "Yeah, so anyways. Here it is. She's here and she locks herself in that library. When we ran into each other in the halls one night she shot me a look I'll never forget. She didn't have to say anything. I knew there'd be hell to pay if I told anyone she'd been on the premises."

  "What do you think she's doing?"

  "Dunno. But it isn't on the up and up, that's for sure. Too much secrecy. She does her best to make sure no one sees her sneak back in once everyone's gone."

  "So you think she stole the safe?" Marie asks.

  "Dunno. I don't think a single lady could pull that off. Me and a team of guys had to break our backs to get that thing in there."

  "Anything else?" I ask.

  "Nope. That's all."

  But Mike's lying. He glanced to his left and downward when he answered. I allow a few moments of complete silence to lay on his shoulders. He blinks fast.

  "Thanks Mike," I say. He gives me an awkward thumbs-up.

  When we get back outside it feels like we can breathe again.

  "That guy freaks me out," Marie says, with her typical candor.

  "He's been helpful. But yeah, I agree."

  "What now? I think..."

  "Ssh!" I interrupt. I duck down.

  What great timing!

  In the distance, we see Mr. Reese hold out some flowers to Ms. Conway in the parking lot. She pushes them away. They exchange some words and she gets into her car and drives off. Mr. Reese stands still for a moment and then chucks the flowers onto the roof of the gym.

  I've never seen him so mad before.

  It's a little scary.

  Chapter 6: Oh, Mr. Reese

  I climb the fire escape to the roof of the gym and find the bouquet. FTD Sampler. Nice selection. Mr. Reese either knows his flowers, or got some good advice, or...

  Then it strikes me.

  Mr. Reese may know Ms. Conway's favorite flowers, too.

  I insist that Marie go to class. No need for both of us to get into trouble. I take the bouquet to the principal's office. Luckily Mrs. Gattis isn't there, or she'd stop me at the door.

  I find Mr. Reese with his head in his hands at his desk. He sees me with the flowers and his face fills with anger.

  "Where did you find those?"

  "You know where I found them. Did you steal the money, Mr. Reese?"

  "Of course not! Don't tell me you suspect me now!"

  It doesn't look good for him. He and the librarian have some secrets. Love can make people crazy. Unrequited loved can make people criminals.

  "I need to ask, sir. Have the police officially accused you?"

  "Not yet. There's a board meeting next week, though. I'm likely to get fired, suspect or not. I lost thirty thousand dollars, so I'll take my medicine."

  I believe him. For now. But I need to keep in mind that I want very badly for him to be innocent. If he gets fired, we'll probably have Principal Gattis stalking our every move. I can't let that fact cloud my judgment.

  "How about Ms. Conway? Do you think she has anything to do with it?"

  "Not a chance. I mean..." I wait for him to finish, but he doesn't.

  "I know you care for her, and it's none of my business what's going on between you two. But if you hold back information it will make it harder to solve this case."

  "I understand," he says.

  But he doesn't say anything else which makes me suspect that he doesn't understand at all. If he did, he'd come clean.

  I leave him to think about it. The man is in a lot of trouble, and something is keeping him from clawing his way out of it.

  "You know my cell if you want to talk about anything," I say, hoping it doesn't sound too accusing.

  I glance at his photo of the beach again as I leave his office.

  I know where I've seen it before!

  I run to the library. Ms. Conway's desk is near the entrance.

  Yup, there it is. She has the same picture next to her computer.

  Okay, I'm leaving. That's enough for the day. It's time to head home and listen to stories about petty crimes from Mom and the latest lead on some ancient grave from Dad.

  After today, it'll be a welcome break.

  Chapter 7: Home, Sweet Home

  My house is like The Scriptorium, but in three-story form and with more books. It's an old Victorian on the outskirts of town. It sits about twenty yards off the street, with a couple of acres trailing off behind it. I spend a lot of time in the backyard down at the duck pond in the hot months. Good shade under the oaks and good company with the ducks -- and Wylie and Marie if they're in good moods.

  It may sound like we have a lot of money, but we don't. My dad inherited the house from his parents. He's an archaeologist. My mom's a cop. They always complain that the place is tough to maintain but they show no sign of ever leaving. That's
fine by me. One day I want to have my own house just like it.

  "How was school today?" Mom asks, as we sit down to dinner. She's still wearing her uniformbecause she's actually going back out to cover for a friend.

  "Fine," I say. Her pasta is delicious, as usual. I can see she's going to drill me tonight. Sometimes she just needs to knock wits. Exercise for her job, maybe.

  "Uh-oh," Dad says, looking up from his magazine, Archeology Today. Snore.

  "What?" I say. Looks like they're going to tag team it tonight.

  "Shirley Link does not give one word answers to anything," he says with a smirk. "If Shirley Link does give a one word answer it's because Shirley Link's hiding many other words behind it."

  "Most likely words that we won't enjoy hearing," Mom says, sliding me the salt.

  "Shirley Link was minding her own business and enjoying her dinner until Shirley Link had the spotlight put on Shirley Link," I say, mouth full.

  "What happened?" Mom asks.

  "Nothing! Jeez, can't I just eat a meal without all the drama?"

  They stare at me. I can't digest my food like this.

  "I got a case," I say, leaning back in my chair. I hope it will end there, but I know it won't. They keep staring. "I got a job helping a friend figure something out."

  "Shirley Link," Mom starts.

  "That's my name. Now hopelessly worn out."

  "This has something to do with the stolen school money, doesn't it?" my mom asks. Her face is going red. Not a good sign. "Did Mr. Reese really ask a student to help him out of this mess?"

  "Stolen money? What are we talking about?" Dad asks.

  "I am going to have a talk with that man," Mom says. She's pretty angry. I wonder how she's taken us from a pleasant dinner all the way to laying my biggest secret on the table within thirty seconds. I'm definitely cut from my mother's cloth.

  "What stolen money?" Dad asks again. "You're helping Mr. Reese?"

  "He asked me to give it some thought. I've already done a little digging and I'm making progress."

  "Let the police handle it, honey," Mom says.