Hannah West: Sleuth in Training (Nancy Pearl's Book Crush Rediscoveries)
Page 1
PRAISE for the HANNAH WEST SERIES, by LINDA JOHNS:
Book 1, Hannah West in the Belltown Towers:
“Johns has concocted a wonderful character in twelve-year-old Hannah West, who wanders the street, closely observing her surroundings. Adopted from China as an infant, Hannah and her adoptive mother, an artist, earn their way by house-sitting, with Hannah making extra money as a dog walker and errand runner. [A] great backstory and an engaging heroine …”
—Booklist
“[A] delightful mystery.”
—Children’s Literature
Book 2, Hannah West in Deep Water:
“Hannah is inquisitive, lively, and outspoken, and her often-droll first-person narrative incorporates plenty of local flavor, as well as a growing awareness of marine conservation issues.”
—Booklist
“Linda Johns creates a convincing setting with plenty of detail about her hometown. Hannah is an appealing protagonist, who unravels the mystery efficiently, but with enough bumps along the way to be satisfying. This is fiction that is both fun and educational.”
—Children’s Literature
Book 3, Hannah West in the Center of the Universe:
Selected as a Global Reading Challenge Book.
Book 4, Hannah West on Millionaire’s Row:
“There is something irresistible about a young, precocious sleuth. Hannah West is no exception, adding a modern Northwestern twist to the age-old formula. [F]ans will like Hannah’s breezy tone and upbeat personality, and they’ll appreciate her love of dogs and books, and the copious details she offers about life in Seattle … [G]irls looking for a brainy, modern-day Trixie Belden will find Hannah West a contender.”
—Booklist
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, organizations, places, events, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
Text copyright © 2006 Linda Johns
Introduction copyright © 2016 Nancy Pearl
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.
Published by Two Lions, New York
www.apub.com
Amazon, the Amazon logo, and Two Lions are trademarks of Amazon.com, Inc., or its affiliates.
This book was originally published as two volumes, Hannah West and the Belltown Towers and Hannah West in Deep Water.
ISBN-13: 9781503947160 (hardcover)
ISBN-10: 1503947165 (hardcover)
ISBN-13: 9781503946941 (paperback)
ISBN-10: 1503946940 (paperback)
Cover art © 2016 Michael S. Heath
Book design by Virginia Pope
With gratitude to Nancy Pearl and Nancy Johns Heard
CONTENTS
INTRODUCTION by Nancy Pearl
BOOK ONE HANNAH WEST in the BELLTOWN TOWERS
CHAPTER 1
CHAPTER 2
CHAPTER 3
CHAPTER 4
CHAPTER 5
CHAPTER 6
CHAPTER 7
CHAPTER 8
CHAPTER 9
CHAPTER 10
CHAPTER 11
CHAPTER 12
CHAPTER 13
CHAPTER 14
CHAPTER 15
CHAPTER 16
CHAPTER 17
CHAPTER 18
CHAPTER 19
CHAPTER 20
CHAPTER 21
CHAPTER 22
CHAPTER 23
CHAPTER 24
CHAPTER 25
CHAPTER 26
CHAPTER 27
BOOK TWO HANNAH WEST in DEEP WATER
CHAPTER 1
CHAPTER 2
CHAPTER 3
CHAPTER 4
CHAPTER 5
CHAPTER 6
CHAPTER 7
CHAPTER 8
CHAPTER 9
CHAPTER 10
CHAPTER 11
CHAPTER 12
CHAPTER 13
CHAPTER 14
CHAPTER 15
CHAPTER 16
CHAPTER 17
CHAPTER 18
CHAPTER 19
CHAPTER 20
CHAPTER 21
Q and A with NANCY PEARL and LINDA JOHNS
ABOUT the AUTHOR
INTRODUCTION
When I was a kid I read the first thirty-four Nancy Drew mysteries, in order, from The Secret of the Old Clock to The Hidden Window Mystery. Truth be told, I am not sure now, looking back, why I kept reading them. I had no desire at all to be a detective, and didn’t much identify with Nancy and her chums. At the same time I also read the first thirteen novels in the Dana Girls series, also by Carolyn Keene, the author of the Nancy Drew mysteries, as well as every other mystery that I could find, including the long-running series starring Frank and Joe Hardy.
My love for mysteries has continued unabated throughout my life, and I am always on the lookout for new ones to read, whether they’re aimed at adults, teens, or children. When I moved to Seattle, children’s librarians and booksellers kept telling me how much kids enjoyed the four mysteries featuring a twelve-year-old Chinese-American detective named Hannah West. And once I read them I could see why. Hannah is smart, brave, and resourceful; the mysteries she solves are both complex and interesting. Starting with Hannah West in the Belltown Towers, these are perfect for eight-to twelve-year-olds who love realistic fiction.
I was thrilled to have the opportunity to interview Linda Johns about writing the Hannah West novels on page 285.
—Nancy Pearl
BOOK ONE
HANNAH WEST in the BELLTOWN TOWERS
CHAPTER 1
YOU MIGHT THINK I’d feel a little triumphant, having gone from homeless twelve year old to cushy downtown high-rise girl overnight. But mostly I was thirsty. This whole moving thing was getting tiresome, even when it meant moving up.
This time we really were moving up—up to the eleventh floor in Belltown Towers. It was my sixth move this year—six moves in sixth grade.
“Buck up, it’s our last trip,” Mom said. She put her laptop bag down on top of a wheeled suitcase.
“Water … need water,” I said dramatically. I held up a plastic bag that was serving as transportation for Vincent and Pollock, my two goldfish.
Moving had become a ritual for Mom and me. We always saved a few things for the last trip. Our most precious belongings, Mom said. For her, that was her laptop computer, a painting by her friend Nina, and a small box of photographs (featuring yours truly). For me, it was my sketch pad, three big drawings I did last summer at the Y’s Art for All camp, a wooden box of 120 color pencils, and a framed photo of me and my best friend, Lily, at the beach. And Vincent and Pollock, of course.
“Hold the elevator!” an older woman with a little dog called from the front door. Her dog reminded me of a silver-tipped version of Toto from The Wizard of Oz.
“I’m afraid there’s nothing to hold yet,” Mom said. “We’re still waiting for the elevator.”
The woman sighed. Her little dog plopped down into a sit, as if he were sighing, too. “This elevator is impossibly slow,” she said. “I find it so inconvenient.”
Uh-oh. My Snoot Alert went into active mode. Owen had told us that everyone in Belltown Towers knew one another. This woman was probably wondering what we were doing walking into her swanky building with armloads of stuff. She looked pretty swanky herself. Her salt-and-p
epper hair perfectly matched her dog’s coat, which somehow made more of a statement than my purple high-tops, which I’d thought tied in nicely with the purple Concrete Jungle logo on my black skateboard T-shirt. I had a sinking feeling that we wouldn’t fit in at Belltown Towers at all.
But then the woman smiled. “Hello, dear,” she said to me. “It seems Ruff is quite interested in your drawings. Or your fish.”
The little dog was sniffing and nuzzling me. I bent down to get some dog kisses while Mom rushed into her customary introductions.
“Hello, I’m Maggie West, and this is my daughter, Hannah,” Mom said. She always tries to get to know people as soon as possible when we get to a new place. She says the more people we know, the more people will look out for us. “We’re taking care of Owen Henderson’s place while he’s in Nepal.”
“We’re taking care of his fish, too,” I added.
“Oh, of course,” the woman said. “Owen told me about his house sitters. He also told me that a certain young miss is excellent with all kinds of pets, not just the aquatic variety.”
“I love animals,” I said, scratching Ruff on his belly. “He’s a cairn terrier, right? Just like Toto?”
She laughed. “Yes, indeed. Not many people realize that Toto was a cairn. You must really know dogs.” She looked at me again. “Dear, do you mind if I ask you something?”
Uh-oh. I knew what was coming now. I braced myself. She was definitely older than Grandma. Maybe even as old as GG (my great-grandma). She might be the kind who would ask, “Are you Oriental?” Lots of old people say “Oriental” for anything they think might have ties anywhere in the huge continent of Asia, including mu shu pork, sushi, and teriyaki chicken. But maybe she would be one of those people who just blurts out, “What are you?” because they can’t tell someone from Korea or China apart. It makes me feel like a freak when someone asks me “what” I am like that.
The answer, in case you’re wondering, is that I’m Chinese. But my mom isn’t. She adopted me from China when I was six months old. It’s not that unusual to be a girl from China adopted by non-Chinese parents, especially here in Seattle. Still, some people—usually the older kind of people—just aren’t used to it.
But I digress. Mom brought me back to the present with a look that said, Use your manners, Hannah.
I took a deep breath and let it out, which turned out to be a bit of a sputter to blow some wisps of my ultrastraight hair out of my face. It’s not the most sophisticated move, but it helps me think while I buy time. “Ask me anything you’d like,” I said. I didn’t really mean it. Clearly no one ever means it when they say “ask me anything.”
“Well, dear, I’m having a little health trouble right now, and the doctor wants me to take it easy for a few days. I’m looking for someone to walk Ruff and make sure he gets enough exercise. Would you be interested in a dog-walking job? Owen highly recommended you,” she said. “Of course, I need to make sure it’s agreeable to your mother,” she quickly added.
Mom nodded with a smile and I laughed. I hadn’t been expecting that one at all. “I’d love to be Ruff’s dog walker,” I said. “And you can walk me, little guy,” I said, scratching behind his perky ears. I reached into the back pocket of my shorts and pulled out a card. Some of my friends think it’s totally dorky that I have business cards. But let me tell you, these things come in handy.
I handed one to the woman.
“I can give you references, if you need them. And that’s my cell-phone number. You can reach me there,” I said.
The woman read my card and gave a little chuckle. “A cell phone, eh?”
“We’re professional house sitters,” Mom rushed in to say. I think she was afraid I’d seem spoiled because I have a cell phone when the truth is that we’re technically homeless. “I got a great deal on a family plan, so Hannah and I each have a cell phone. It makes it easy for our families to reach us when we’re moving from house to house, with all our house-sitting jobs.”
“Well then, that’s a good idea. I think it’s great for a young girl living in the city to have a phone with her,” the woman said. “You can keep in touch with your mom and call for help if you run into trouble, which I’m sure you don’t.” She gave me a wink.
The elevator doors opened, and a man and a woman navigating a huge jogging stroller got off. “Sorry for hogging the elevator, Dorothy,” the woman said.
Dorothy smiled warmly at them and said, “You certainly have your hands full.” The three of us (four, if you count Ruff; six, if you count Vincent and Pollock, but I’ve noticed people don’t usually count fish) got on the elevator.
“Oh dear. I neglected to introduce myself. I’m Dorothy. Dorothy Powers.”
I thought I heard Mom gasp a little.
“You’ve already met Ruff, of course,” Dorothy went on. “It seems my little companion has taken quite a liking to you, Hannah. Usually it takes a bit of a treat to win him over, but it appears he instinctively understands you’re his ticket to walks in the great outdoors.”
Ruff gave a little yelp when she said “walk.” Just to test him, I looked at him and said, “Walk?” He yelped again.
“Sorry. Couldn’t help myself,” I said, feeling a bit foolish for having teased my new canine client. I pushed 11 on the elevator panel, feeling the Braille spots above it just to luxuriate in the idea of living up so high.
“Thirteen, please,” Dorothy said.
I looked at the number panel. There were buttons going up to twelve, but no thirteen. Above twelve there was a button that said “ph.”
“It’s the one that says ph, dear,” Dorothy said.
“Why doesn’t it just say thirteen?” I asked, pressing the “ph” button for her.
“It’s an old superstition,” Dorothy said. “Even though this is a new building, it’s a little old-fashioned. You see, some people used to be afraid of the number thirteen. No one wanted to live on the thirteenth floor. So landlords would pretend there wasn’t a thirteenth story. They’d skip right from twelve to fourteen.”
“But then fourteen would really be thirteen. Wouldn’t that be unlucky, too?” I asked.
“One would think so, if one believed such things. I’ve been living on what is really the thirteenth floor for three years now, and I haven’t had any bad luck,” she said. “In fact, I wish they’d just call it thirteen and be done with it. Penthouse is a bit uppity for my taste, especially since the Belltown Towers calls both top-floor apartments penthouse. But I do love my apartment. You must come see it sometime. In fact, I have a new Hansen painting arriving today. I’d love to show it to you both.”
We reached the eleventh floor, and Mom and I maneuvered our loads out into the hallway, trying not to get shut in the elevator doors.
“It was such a pleasure to meet you,” Mom gushed.
I looked at Mom. She was practically beaming she looked so excited.
“It was lovely meeting you both,” Dorothy called.
“You, too,” I said. And I really meant it. I’d totally underestimated Dorothy. I’d been so caught up worrying about myself and whether she would call me “Oriental” that I almost hadn’t given her a fair chance. My GG would say I was being ageist by assuming someone over seventy was going to be out of touch or, worse, as GG would say herself, “a culturally insensitive bigot.”
“See you later, Ruff!” I called out just before the elevator doors closed completely.
I couldn’t wait for my new dog-walking job. Not only would it be nice to have a furry animal to hang out with downtown, I’d be making some much-needed cash.
“Ohmygod ohmygod ohmygod!” Mom said as she fumbled for the key to number 1105, Owen’s apartment. I mean OUR apartment. “Do you have any idea who we just met?”
CHAPTER 2
AS SOON AS she got the door open, Mom started bustling around the apartment like a crazy woman. Which she is, sometimes. I mean, not really crazy. But she gets pretty excited over weird things.
I we
nt straight into the kitchen. I needed to get Vincent and Pollock into a bowl of fresh water as soon as possible. All this moving every few weeks must be unsettling for the little guys.
“Do you have any idea who we just met?” Mom asked again.
Well, I thought I did, but now I was wondering if I’d missed something. “Who?” I demanded.
“Dorothy Powers!”
Sometimes it’s so hard not to just blurt “Well, duh!” to a parent. But I speak from experience when I say that those two seemingly harmless syllables work overtime when it comes to annoying adults.
“Okay …” I stalled for time. The name didn’t ring any bells to me. “So, who is she, besides the owner of my new client?”
“Dorothy Powers just happens to be one of the top three art supporters in Seattle! She has an incredible collection of art and a wonderful eye for new talent. If Dorothy Powers is behind you, you have it made as an artist,” she said.
“Good. Maybe she’ll discover me, and I’ll be able to rent our old house back again,” I said. My sarcasm went unnoticed.
“Owen told me she lived in this building. But I had no idea she’d be so nice. Or that we’d meet her our first day here. Our first hour here! Or that she’d invite us to her apartment! Did you hear her say that she’s getting a new Hansen?” Mom fumbled in her purse for her phone. “I need to call Nina right away!” Mom headed out to the balcony with her cell phone. I whipped mine out, too. If she was going to call her best friend, then I’d call mine.