Jessi and the Jewel Thieves

by Ann M. Martin

  A security guard approached us and stood next to the first man. “Okay, kids, where are your parents?” he asked.

  “Uh,” said Quint.

  “We better go,” I hissed in his ear. “We lost them, anyway.” It was true. Frank and Red were nowhere to be seen by that time. We turned and left. (The security guard followed us to the door.)

  In the cab on the way back to Quint’s, we both fell silent. I was feeling humiliated, and I guess he was, too. Some detectives we were. What chance did we have of solving the case before I had to leave New York?

  Claudia was scheduled to sit at the Pikes’ on Sunday. She’d only be sitting for Claire, Margo, Nicky, and Becca, though, since Mr. and Mrs. Pike were taking the older kids to that concert in Stamford.

  “This job is going to be a breeze,” she said to herself as she got ready to head for Mal’s. “No triplets calling each other names. No Vanessa spouting poetry. Just me and the little ones.” Then she thought for a moment. Four “little ones” could be quite a handful. Especially when their ages ranged from five to eight-and-a-half. She was going to need an activity or a project to keep them busy, and it would have to be something they would all enjoy doing.

  Claud looked around her room. Being an artist herself, she loves to come up with art projects for kids. But what? She looked at a box of pastels, and shook her head. “Too expensive,” she said. “I’ll be sorry if I bring those and they get used up.” A few tubes of acrylic paint were next to the pastels, but Claud figured they’d be too messy and too hard to clean up. “Papier-mâché?” she asked herself. “No, takes too long to dry and the kids get impatient.” She glanced at a pile of magazines and thought about collages, but remembered how hard it can be to clean sticky glue off even one child.

  Then Claud’s glance happened to land on a poster she’d put up over her bed. It was a fantasy illustration with lots of color and action. A beautiful maiden was caught in the clutches of a dragon, and a handsome prince was about to rescue her. We’d noticed that picture during our last meeting, and had talked about why the princess is always the one to get rescued. I remember Kristy saying that “just once,” she’d like to see a prince who needed help.

  Anyway, when Claud noticed the poster, she was struck with a great idea. “Dragons!” she said out loud. “We’ll make dragons.” She checked her watch and saw that she had only fifteen minutes to organize everything. She bustled around her room, grabbing art supplies. She pulled a box of poster paints out from under the bed. She rummaged through her closet until she found a shoebox that held buttons, old wooden spools, and other stuff she’d collected. In a cubbyhole of her desk was some glitter, and a bag of yarn was stashed in her sock drawer.

  Then she dashed downstairs to check the garage. There, in the cardboard recycling bin, she found a few empty paper towel tubes, several oatmeal containers, and some strong corrugated cardboard that could be cut and painted. “There, all set,” she said. She packed everything into an old red wagon and headed over to the Pikes’.

  “Claudia’s here, Claudia’s here!” yelled Margo when she saw Claudia trudging up the driveway. “What did you bring?” she asked Claud. “Presents?”

  “Nope,” said Claudia. “Art supplies.”

  “Cowabunga!” shouted Nicky from the porch. “Are we going to make a mural?”

  Claudia shook her head.

  “What are we making?” asked Byron. He had run into the yard, along with Adam and Jordan.

  “You guys aren’t making anything this time,” Claud said to the triplets. “You have plans today, remember? This is for the little kids.”

  “Boo,” said Adam.

  “Yeah, boo,” echoed Jordan.

  “We’ll do something next time,” Claudia told them. “And you’re going to have a great time at the concert.”

  “Hi, Claudia,” said Mal, who had followed the triplets outside. “Looks like you’re all prepared for today.”

  “I hope so. How’s Becca doing?”

  “Much better,” said Mal. “She ate about forty-five pancakes this morning.”

  “I ate a hundred-’leventy-seven!” said Claire proudly.

  “I ate a gazillion,” added Margo. “Well, not really. I only had three.”

  “Three pancakes should give you plenty of energy for our project,” said Claudia.

  “What is it?” asked Becca. She had arrived on the porch by that time. “What are we going to make?”

  “I’ll tell you soon,” said Claudia. “After the others leave. That way it can be a surprise for them when they come back.”

  It took awhile for Mr. and Mrs. Pike to round up their concert-goers, but before long everyone was loaded into the car. Claud, Becca, Margo, Claire, and Nicky stood in the driveway and waved good-bye to them until they were partway down the street.

  “Tell us now!” said Nicky. “They’re gone, so now we can start.”

  Claudia smiled. Bringing along a project had been a great idea. None of the kids seemed to mind being left behind, since they had something special of their own to do. “Okay,” she said. “Why don’t you help me unload the wagon, and I’ll tell you what we’re going to make.”

  Claire reached into a paper bag and pulled out some glitter. “Fairy dust!” she cried.

  Becca found the yarn. “And beautiful hair for a doll,” she said.

  “Paints!” exclaimed Margo, pulling out the poster paints. “All my favorite colors.”

  Nicky reached in and pulled out the paper-towel tubes. “Hoo-hoo tubes!” he shouted.

  “Hoo-hoo tubes?” Claudia asked, puzzled.

  “That’s what we call these,” Nicky said. He lifted one to his lips and made a sound through the tube. Hoo-hoo! The other kids cracked up, and so did Claudia. Then everybody grabbed a tube and started hoo-hooing. Claud noticed that Becca was hoo-hooing as loudly as anyone.

  “Okay, you hoo-hoos,” said Claud, after the noise had gone on for a few minutes. “Time to get started. Guess what we’re going to make.”

  “Dolls?” asked Becca.

  “I know!” said Claire. “A little town, with people in it.”

  “A nature scene!” cried Margo.

  “No, dummy,” said Nicky. “A robot!”

  “You’re all wrong,” said Claudia. “And, Nicky, don’t call your sister a dummy.”

  “Sorry,” said Nicky to Margo. “So what are we making?” he asked Claudia.

  “Dragons,” she replied.

  “Yay!” shouted the kids.

  Then Becca said in a small voice, “But I don’t know what a dragon looks like.”

  Claud heard a certain tone in Becca’s voice that made her think Becca might still be feeling a little lost. She hurried to explain. “It looks like anything you want it to look like,” she said. “Dragons can look like dinosaurs or horses or salamanders. They can be purple or red or green or all colors mixed together. They can be big or they can be baby dragons. It’s up to you.”

  “I’m going to make the biggest dragon in the world,” said Nicky. “Big enough to eat Stoneybrook.” He started to pull supplies out of the wagon.

  “Hold on,” said Claudia. “How about if we bring this stuff into the garage, where it won’t matter if we make a mess?” She helped the kids set up in the garage, and then sat back to watch. She was amazed, she told me later, at how creative they were. Kids are like that. As long as nobody tells them that they can’t do something, they’ll try anything. They used all the supplies Claud had brought, and added a few things of their own. Nicky found his collection of Popsicle sticks and used them for spines, and Margo brought out some of her LEGOs.

  Becca sat happily in the middle of all the activity, making a baby dragon that she named Charlotte after the spider in Charlotte’s Web. Claud saw no sign of the sad Becca who had moped and cried for so long. “It was almost like she’d forgotten she wasn’t a Pike,” Claud told me later. “She acted like part of the family, and the others treated her that way, too.”

  Buildin
g the dragons took quite a while. When they were done, the kids started to play “Dragon Kingdom,” a game they made up on the spot. It involved picking a King and Queen of the dragons and then having dragon parties.

  Claudia was so busy with the project that she forgot to keep track of the time, and before she knew it the Pike station wagon was pulling into the driveway. At that same moment, my parents arrived to pick up Becca.

  “Mama!” Becca cried, running to give our mother a hug.

  “Whoa,” said my mom. Becca was covered from head to toe with green paint.

  “Having fun?” asked my dad.

  “Definitely,” said Becca. She ran back to the garage to get her dragon. “See what I made?”

  “Terrific,” said my dad. “Now, how about if you get cleaned up so we can go on home.”

  Becca’s face fell. “I don’t want to go home,” she said, pouting. “I’m having a good time here!”

  Mal, who had climbed out of the station wagon, gave Claudia a Look and both of them had to stifle their laughter. I guess nobody can stay sad for long at the Pike home.

  Half an hour had gone by since we’d left Heathes’, and Quint wasn’t speechless anymore. Now he was mad.

  “I just can’t believe it,” he said. “Don’t we have any rights? They can’t make us stay out of a store like that.”

  We were sitting on a ledge outside Quint’s building. We’d just gotten out of the cab, but instead of going upstairs we’d sat outside to talk for a while.

  “I know,” I said. “It’s not fair.”

  “Do you think it was because we’re African-American?” Quint asked. “I mean, maybe that’s why they didn’t trust us.”

  “Well, I might think that,” I said, “except that the guard was black, too.” I know prejudice exists, of course. But this time I didn’t think it had anything to do with what had happened. “It’s probably just because we’re kids. They thought we’d start running around and bump into one of those cases filled with crystal glasses or something.”

  “Right,” said Quint, with a grin. “That would have been quite a sight, to see thousands of dollars worth of glass breaking all over the place.”

  I laughed. “Or maybe they thought we’d put our faces against the jewel displays and fog up the glass.”

  “Pretty dumb,” said Quint, shaking his head. “I mean, we’re not five years old, you know?”

  “They sure treated us like we were.”

  We sat silently for a moment.

  “So what about Frank and Red?” asked Quint. “Do you think they were just casing the joint, or do you think they actually might have been about to rob the store?”

  I gasped. “That’s right,” I said. “The robbery could be going on at this very moment. And it would be that guard’s fault, for making us leave. We could have figured out a way to stop the thieves.” I pictured Frank and Red stuffing handfuls of jewels into a bag while employees sat helplessly in the background, tied up with ropes. I imagined Quint and me sneaking up behind the thieves and pretending we were the cops.

  Then I visualized the headlines in the next morning’s paper. HEROIC TEENS FOIL DESPERADOES, one would say. JEWEL HEIST JINXED BY JUVENILES, another would shout. Maybe we’d get medals from the mayor, or maybe the store owners would let each of us pick out a reward from the jewelry cases. I pictured myself surprising my mother with a beautiful pair of diamond-and-sapphire earrings.

  I was so busy with my daydreams that I nearly jumped out of my skin when a car horn blasted nearby. I looked over at Quint. Our conversation had died, and he was just sitting, staring moodily at the sidewalk. Suddenly, I realized this was as good a time as any for our Talk. After all, I’d be leaving soon. I had to get it over with. As I thought about how to start, I remembered a Talk I’d had with this boy Daniel I’d met at Shadow Lake, when the BSC was on a vacation together. Daniel and I had become friendly, and I was beginning to worry that he wanted to be more than friends. I guess I was also feeling guilty about Quint, just like I had when I’d gone to that dance with Curtis Shaller.

  Anyway, when I had this Talk with Daniel, I was completely embarrassed because it turned out he was only interested in me as a friend. He had a girlfriend in Boston, where he came from. Still, it had been a good talk, and we did end up agreeing to be friends. I hoped my Talk with Quint would go as well.

  I took a deep breath. “Quint?” I said. “We need to talk. About us.” I had this funny feeling in the pit of my stomach, and my hands suddenly got sweaty.

  “About us?” repeated Quint. “What do you mean?”

  Uh-oh. Now I had to follow through. “Well,” I said. “I’ve really had a good time with you this weekend. In fact, I have a great time with you whenever we get together. But I’m not sure — I mean, I don’t know if —”

  “If you want to be committed to being my girlfriend?” Quint asked.

  “Yes!” I said, relieved. “That’s it, exactly. I mean, I think we’re kind of young for a long-distance relationship.”

  “I’ve been thinking the same thing,” replied Quint, “but I didn’t know how to talk to you about it. I never know what to do when there’s a dance at school, for instance. Is it okay for me to ask another girl, or should I just not go?”

  I thought of Curtis. “I went to a dance with another boy,” I confessed. “But I felt guilty about it.”

  “Oh, Jessi,” said Quint. He gave me a sympathetic look.

  Quint is the nicest boy. I hope he’ll still be around when I decide I’m ready for a real relationship. “I hope we’ll always be friends,” I said.

  “Me, too,” said Quint. He took my hand. “Jessi, could I kiss you just once more, for old time’s sake?”

  I blushed and nodded. Then Quint leaned over, but just as I was closing my eyes, I heard a car door slam. My eyes popped open, and over Quint’s shoulder I saw Frank and Red walking away from a cab. I clutched Quint’s shoulder. “It’s them,” I hissed, and he turned around.

  The two men didn’t look like they’d just pulled off a big jewel heist. They weren’t carrying bulging bags over their shoulders, and they didn’t seem to be nervously watching for the cops. They walked into the building next to Quint’s, as calmly as you please.

  Quint and I exchanged a look, then jumped up and ran into his building, not calmly at all. We burst into his apartment and headed straight for the TV room.

  “Jessi! Jessi!” called Morgan, as we ran past her. “Come look at my Barbie!”

  “Not now, Morgan,” I said.

  “Quint!” yelled Tyler. “Will you play Monopoly with us?”

  “Maybe later!” Quint replied.

  He herded me into the TV room and closed the door behind us. We ran to the window and looked across the way. We could see into the room where we’d first seen Frank and Red, but it was empty. “Darn!” said Quint. “Do you think they went out again already?”

  “Let’s wait a minute,” I answered. “Maybe they’re in another room.”

  We sat quietly for a few minutes, but Frank and Red didn’t show up. Then Quint said, “I have an idea. What if we went to their door, pretending we have to make a delivery or something? We could get a look around the apartment, and maybe figure something out.”

  “I don’t know. That sounds dangerous. After all, they know what we look like, don’t they? They might let us in just to trap us.”

  “Hmm,” Quint said. “Maybe you’re right. We could wear disguises, though. Then they wouldn’t know who we are. I could wear my dad’s glasses, and you could borrow this Halloween wig of Morgan’s.”

  “But what would we be looking for in there?” I asked. “I mean, there probably aren’t going to be piles of jewels just lying out in plain sight.”

  “No, but maybe we’d see a map of one of the stores, or a plan or something. Or maybe we could trap them into saying something incriminating.”

  “You mean, talk about diamonds and see how they react?” I asked.

  “I guess,” Quint
answered. “Oh, I don’t know. All I know is that I want to solve this mystery and make sure they don’t get away with anything.”

  “I just wish we could go to the police,” I said. “If only we had more evidence.”

  “That’s exactly what I’m saying,” agreed Quint. “Maybe the only way to get more evidence is to get into their apartment.”

  By this time we were both seated on the floor, stretching. Ballet students and dancers do that any time they have a free moment. It’s second nature. I had stretched my legs as far apart as they could go, and my head was nearly on the floor between them. Quint was doing this complicated pretzel-like stretch that’s supposed to be good for your back. We’d both forgotten — for a moment — to watch out the window.

  Suddenly, I heard Frank’s voice, loud and clear. “You double-crossing weasel!” he said.

  Quint and I sat up fast and looked out the window. There, across the way, were Frank and Red standing in the middle of that living room.

  “I’m not double-crossing you, Frank,” said Red. “It’s just that I’m not so sure about this plan of yours.”

  “What are you talking about?” said Frank. “We’ve worked on this plan for three months. It’s foolproof.”

  Quint and I exchanged looks. He raised one eyebrow, and I raised both. Something weird was going on here. This fight sounded very familiar.

  “So you say,” Red said, shrugging. “But I just don’t know.”

  Frank looked mad. “What are you afraid of, you chicken-livered lily-hearted wimp?”

  Red burst out laughing. “No, no, no,” he said. “It’s lily-livered and chicken-hearted! Check your script.”

  Frank was laughing, too. He picked up a sheaf of papers and leafed through them. “I can’t believe I did that,” he said. “I thought I knew these lines backward and forward.”

  “Backward is right,” said Red, still laughing. “Come on, let’s try again.”

  As you can probably imagine, by this time Quint and I were in total shock. “Script?” I whispered to him.