Joe shook his head and said, “Bandannas have looked the same since the Wild West.”
“Come on, Tony,” I said. “Are you one of those Scaredevils?”
Tony’s eyes flew wide open. He leaned across the table and whispered, “I don’t belong to any gang, if that’s what you’re saying.”
I pointed at the scratch under Tony’s eye. “Then how did you get that?” I asked.
Joe was already running the fight video as he held the tablet in Tony’s face. “Is this how?” he asked.
Tony stared straight at the video. “How did you find that?” he asked.
“Special delivery,” Joe replied. “Were you the sender, Tony?”
Shaking his head, Tony said, “No, it must have been—”
Tony stopped midsentence.
“It must have been who?” I asked.
“Um . . . it must have been . . . someone else,” Tony finished lamely.
“Come on, Tony, throw us a bone,” Joe groaned. “Can’t you give us a name?”
Tony hunched forward. “No, I can’t.”
“But you are in the Scaredevils?” Joe said.
Tony groaned as if to say, Give me a break. Then he whispered, “Yeah, I’m in the Scaredevils, but not because I want to trash Bayport.”
Joe and I exchanged confused looks. Why else would someone join that gang unless they wanted to make trouble?
“I’m in it for the money,” Tony said.
“Money?” I repeated.
“You’re getting paid to do all that stuff?” Joe asked, just as surprised as I was.
“We all are,” Tony explained. “Look, I am sick of wiping down dirty tables five days a week. The other day someone barfed up a whole—”
“Spare me the gross details,” Joe said.
“And now I can finally get out,” Tony said. “Why do you think I asked Carolyn here? For once I wanted to be able to sit back, relax, and order the most expensive stuff on the menu, like I always saw everybody else do.”
Tony reached into his pocket. He pulled out a shiny silver phone and held it up. “And check out the sweet phone I was able to buy after the fight. With my busboy job it would have taken me weeks to be able to afford this,” he continued.
“Yeah, okay, nice phone,” Joe said. “Question is—who’s been paying you and the other Scaredevils to trash Bayport?”
Tony placed his phone on the table. He leaned back and shook his head. “Sorry, guys,” he said. “Can’t tell.”
“Why not?” I asked.
“The guy said he’d wipe tables with my face if I did,” Tony said nervously. “Not worth it!”
I looked sideways at Joe, who was gazing out the window. He had to be as frustrated as I was. We’d finally pinned down a member of the Scaredevils—but he was too scared to rat on his leader.
“Uh-oh,” Joe said, interrupting my thoughts. “Hey, Tony.”
“What?” Tony asked.
Joe pointed at the window. “Is that your car out there getting keyed?” he asked.
“Someone’s keying my car?” Tony cried.
In a flash, Tony was running up the aisle and out of the Chomp and Chew.
“Come on, Joe,” I said, starting to stand. “We’d better help Tony—”
“Sit down,” Joe said, picking up Tony’s phone. “Now, how do you read texts on this thing?”
Texts?
“Oh, so that’s your plan,” I said with a grin. I turned to Chet and called, “Look out the window and let us know when Tony’s coming back!”
Chet didn’t ask why. He just nodded, a sweet potato fry dangling from his mouth.
“This is kind of like my tablet,” Joe said as his fingers worked Tony’s phone. “Got the texts. Now let’s play Find the Ringleader.”
“How will we know who he is?” I asked.
Joe leaned forward so I could see the phone too.
“We’ll know him when we see him,” Joe said. He scrolled down the texts until he reached one that read: GJ!! PU $$. “This is it!”
“Whaaaa?” I said.
I wasn’t totally clueless when it came to texting—but this one was about as clear as ancient hieroglyphics.
“Allow me to translate,” Joe said. “It says, ‘Good job! Pick up cash.’ ”
“That’s got to be the guy who’s paying off the Scaredevils,” I said. “Does it say who sent it?”
“Someone called Sylvester, C,” Joe read. He looked at me questionably. “Sylvester, C . . . Sylvester, C—”
“Colin!” I blurted out as it hit me. “Joe, the text was sent by Colin Sylvester.”
THE WARNING
8
JOE
COLIN SYLVESTER?” I SAID, STARING AT the phone. “He’s the ringleader of the Scaredevils?”
“He was creeping around our school right after the Scaredevils hit,” Frank said. “And if anyone has the cash to pay up, it’s Colin.”
“Heads up, you guys,” Chet hissed. “Tony’s coming back.”
“Drop the phone, Joe,” Frank said.
“Wait,” I said, my fingers fumbling on the keypad. “I have to close the texts.”
After I did, I placed Tony’s new phone on the table exactly where he’d left it. It was a cool phone—until we found out how he got it!
“Remember,” Frank said. “Pretend to act concerned about his car.”
Leaning forward and scrunching my eyebrows, I put on my best “worried” face. “So?” I asked as Tony slipped back into the booth. “How’s the car?”
“Nobody keyed it,” Tony said with a relieved smile. “You must have been seeing things, Hardy.”
“Hey,” Frank said. “Better safe than sorry.”
“Especially with those Scaredevils around town,” I said with a hint of sarcasm.
“Okay, are you finished asking me about the Scaredevils and the ringleader?” Tony asked. “Because I told you, I’m not spilling.”
He didn’t have to. After opening his texts, we had all the stuff we needed. At least for now.
“No more questions,” Frank said.
“Good,” Tony said, glancing over his shoulder. “Now, can you guys go back to your table? Carolyn’s coming back!”
“The Scaredevils aren’t your style, Tony,” Frank said as we stood up. “You really ought to ditch them.”
“And go back to wiping tables?” Tony said. “You think Carolyn would date a busboy?”
I wanted to say sure, but Carolyn was already at the booth. She wasn’t smiling anymore, which made me wonder what Iola had told her.
Frank and I slipped back into our booth, where Iola was sipping her root beer float.
“What did you tell Carolyn about the captain of the basketball team?” I asked.
“That she got all As on her last report card,” Iola said, twirling her straw in her shake. “Carolyn was totally bored, but I gave her an earful to kill time.”
“Hey, it worked,” Frank said. “Joe and I got some good stuff from Tony.”
“You mean Tony’s phone,” I said, going back to my burger, which was already cold. “The Scaredevils are trashing Bayport for the money.”
“And their ringleader and benefactor is Colin Sylvester,” Frank added.
“You mean the rich kid?” Iola said. She shrugged. “If he’s got deep pockets, then I guess it makes sense.”
“Makes sense to me, too,” Chet said. “Colin meant business when he hurled that soda can at me. That’s one mean dude.”
“Don’t you think you should tell the cops about Colin?” Iola asked.
I frowned. “If only we could,” I said. “But Chief Olaf doesn’t listen to ‘so-called detectives.’ ”
“Plus, we don’t have any hard evidence on Colin other than that text on Tony’s phone,” Frank said. “And we can’t get our hands on that anymore.”
It made sense to me too that Colin was the Scaredevils’ ringleader. Who else would have all that money to burn? But there was still something I didn’t get.
. . .
“What do you think is in it for Colin?” I asked. “I mean, why would a guy who has everything want to spend his money on a bunch of stupid pranks?”
“And hang out with a bunch of Bayport High guys,” Frank said. “That’s what I don’t get.”
I watched Tony from the corner of my eye as we finished our burgers and drinks. He was smiling as he chatted up Carolyn, but every now and then his eyes would dart over to our table. When he caught me watching, he’d quickly glance away.
The guy was obviously nervous about us knowing his secret. Little did Tony know we knew more than he thought!
“Done,” Frank said, pushing away his plate.
“Me too,” I said. “Let’s figure out the check and go.”
“Why don’t we just split it?” Chet said.
“Wait a minute!” I said, leaning over to read the check. “You ordered twice as much as we did, Morton—no way are we splitting it.”
“But you guys ate my sweet potato fries!” Chet argued.
“Yeah, like one!” Iola said.
“Problem solved, you guys,” I said, reaching for my tablet. “This thing has a calculator on it—”
CRASH!!!
My hands flew over my head as glass from the window exploded across our table. For the next few seconds, everything was a blur. People were screaming and diving under tables.
When the sound of falling glass and screams died down, I slowly and carefully looked up. Iola’s hands still covered her head, while Chet crouched halfway under the table. Frank looked about as shaken up as I felt.
We weren’t the only ones. I glanced around to see parents with their arms wrapped around crying kids. Customers were frantically leaving the place, forgetting to pay their bills. Others just sat frozen in stunned silence.
“Wh-what was that?” I asked, my voice shaky.
Careful not to touch the broken glass, Frank reached out and picked up the culprit. It was a medium-size rock with the word “Scaredevils” painted across it.
It was bad enough that I was getting the Scaredevil viral videos by special delivery. Now we were getting rocks hurled through nearby windows!
“Something tells me this is getting personal,” I said.
“Jeez!” Chet cried, coming out from under the table. “We’re not even safe at the Chomp and Chew. It’s the end of civilization as we know it!”
Worried customers and waitstaff hurried over to see if we were okay. But not everyone stuck around. Tony and Carolyn were squeezing through the crowd toward the back door. Carolyn looked confused, while Tony kept glancing back nervously.
“Are you kids all right?” a worried voice asked.
I turned to see the owner of the place, Marty Rios, standing over our booth.
“We’re okay,” Frank said, forcing a smile.
“Two of my biggest waiters are outside trying to catch the punks,” Marty said. “Whoever they are.”
“Thanks, Marty,” Frank said. “But I have a feeling they ran away right after they threw the rock.”
“Who’s they?” Marty demanded.
“The Scaredevils,” Frank said, showing him the rock. “It’s a gang that’s pulling pranks around Bayport.”
“Tell that to the police as soon as they get here,” Marty suggested. “My cashier just put a call in to the station.”
Marty cleared out the Chomp and Chew except for Frank and me. As we sat in another booth, waiting for the police, we talked about the case.
“Do you think Tony knew about the Scaredevils’ plans?” I asked.
Frank shook his head. “He wouldn’t bring Carolyn here if he did,” he said. “Not exactly an awesome first date.”
After a beat I turned to Frank. “So, what do you think?” I asked. “Do we tell the police what we know about Colin? Even if we don’t have any proof to show them?”
“Definitely,” Frank said. “One of us could have gotten seriously hurt just now . . . or even killed.”
Two police officers were already at the Chomp and Chew, talking to Marty. But then the door opened wide and another walked in. My heart sank when I saw who it was.
“Olaf’s in the house,” I muttered.
“Great,” Frank groaned.
Frank and I watched as Chief Olaf walked toward us, followed by the two officers. He was wearing his big shiny badge and his usual cynical smirk.
“Boys,” Chief Olaf said with a nod. “So, tell me what you saw.”
“This!” I said, showing him the rock. “It was hurled through the window we were sitting next to.”
“The word ‘Scaredevils’ is painted on it,” Frank pointed out. “It’s the same gang that tagged our basketball court.”
The chief took the rock from me. He turned it over in his hand before saying, “Tell me something I don’t already know.”
“Okay,” Frank said. “We know who the ringleader of the gang is.”
“How do you know?” Chief Olaf asked.
“We read it in a text,” I said.
The chief held out his hand. “Can I see the text, please?” he said.
“Um . . . we don’t have it,” I said.
“It was on someone else’s phone,” Frank explained.
“Well,” Chief Olaf said. “Then it won’t do us much good, will it?”
“We can tell you what we found out,” Frank said quickly. “For one, there’s a guy paying the Scaredevils to pull the pranks.”
“Paying them?” one of the officers piped up.
“Yeah!” I said. “And that person is Colin Sylvester!”
The chief’s eyebrows flew up so high and fast I thought they’d hit the ceiling. Had we finally told him something he wanted to hear?
But then Chief Olaf shook his head. “It can’t be Colin,” he said. “Not a chance.”
“Why not?” Frank asked.
“Because the Sylvesters are respected citizens of the community,” Chief Olaf explained. “Their son Colin goes to Bay Academy.”
“So all Bay Academy students are honest?” I asked.
I looked over at the other officers, Lasko and Fernandez, for help. They were usually friendly guys, but now they stood behind Chief Olaf, as motionless as Mount Rushmore.
“Look, boys.” Chief Olaf sighed. “I am not going to bring in Colin Sylvester based on a text that I can’t even read.”
“But—” I started to say.
“Kids these days and their texts,” Chief Olaf said to the other officers with a chuckle. “Maybe if they’d all interact more on a personal level, we wouldn’t have all this trouble!”
I couldn’t take it anymore. If Chief Olaf wouldn’t listen to Frank and me, maybe he’d listen to Tony Riley.
“It wasn’t our text, Chief Olaf,” I blurted. “It was—”
“It was something we heard about,” Frank cut in.
I glanced sideways at Frank. Why was he protecting Tony? If Tony knew that rock was coming, he sure did nothing to protect us!
“All we know is that the Scaredevils are starting to target Joe and me,” Frank told the chief. He turned to me. “Show him the videos, Joe.”
I was about to pull out my tablet when the chief held up his hand.
“Those punks are targeting the entire town of Bayport,” Chief Olaf said. “So don’t think you’re so special, Detectives Hardy and Hardy.”
“Can you at least question Colin and see what he has to say?” Frank asked.
“Absolutely not,” Chief Olaf said. “There is no way I am going to embarrass good people like the Sylvesters when there’s no evidence on their son.”
The chief then turned to the officers and said, “Lasko, write up what the kids told us, but leave out the garbage about Colin.”
“Garbage?” I gasped.
All three officers turned away from us. As they started up the aisle, Officer Fernandez glanced back and smiled. Maybe he believed us. But with Olaf as chief, did it even matter?
“Can’t say we didn’t try,” Frank
said with a sigh as we pulled on our jackets.
“Yeah,” I said, giving the broken window one last look. “I guess it’s up to us ‘so-called detectives’ to investigate Colin.”
CLOSER
9
FRANK
THE LAST THING JOE AND I WANTED TO do was get up extra early the next morning—especially after that intense night at the Chomp and Chew. But if we were going to make a pit stop at Bay Academy on the way to school, we’d have to get going.
“What if we don’t see Colin?” Joe asked me as I drove up Bay Academy’s block.
“Maybe some of the other kids can help us out,” I said.
“Other kids as in Sierra Mitchell?” Joe teased.
“I never said that,” I insisted, although the thought of running into Sierra had definitely crossed my mind.
I pulled up to the curb across the street from Bay Academy.
With the other expensive student cars parked on the block, mine stuck out like a sore thumb.
As I did my best to parallel park, I caught Joe eyeing his tablet.
“What are you looking at?” I grunted as I turned the wheel. “Anything new go viral?”
Joe shook his head. “I did a search on the Sylvesters,” he said. “No wonder the chief didn’t want to go after them.”
“What did you find?” I asked.
“The Sylvesters donated a whole chunk of money to a Bayport Police charity,” Joe said.
“Money talks . . . Colin walks.” I sighed.
“Speaking of Colin, I don’t think we have to worry about not finding him,” Joe said, pointing out the window. “Because there he goes!”
I leaned over to look out Joe’s window. It didn’t take long to find Colin. He was strutting confidently across the school grounds toward a group of other guys.
“Those are the guys from the Chomp and Chew,” I said.
Colin and his buds fist-bumped, then exchanged words. He seemed distracted, looking past his friends to something in the school yard. I followed Colin’s gaze to a bunch of girls standing a few feet away. One of those girls was Lindsay Peyton.
• • •
Joe and I watched as Colin broke away from his crew and began moving toward Lindsay. As far away as we were, I could still see Lindsay’s look of disgust as he approached.
Mystery of the Phantom Heist Page 5
