by Sarah Rubin
The hall on the other side was dim compared to the white marble entrance hall, but it was still clearly designed to impress. Large gold-framed paintings lined the walls, and the carpet was so thick it muffled our footsteps into near-silence.
Sammy looked at me like I’d asked him the square root of -1.
‘Dad takes security very seriously. The lab is working on all sorts of top secret projects. There’s no way Dad would let in a bunch of reporters. One of them might be a spy or something.’ His mouth froze in the shape of an ‘O’ and he looked quickly at my dad. ‘Not that I think you’re a spy, Mr Jones. I mean . . . what I meant was . . .’
Dad cut him off before he could start hyperventilating. ‘Don’t worry about it, Sammy. I know what you meant. But I bet you know how to get around all the security systems at the lab, don’t you? After all, you were Dr Learner’s assistant.’
I elbowed Dad in the ribs. So much for being discreet. But Sammy didn’t seem to notice, he just hurried down the hallway a bit more quickly.
We passed three doors before Sammy stopped and opened a fourth, leading us into a large open living room.
Four identical couches were arranged in the middle of the room, back to back and perpendicular to a large marble fireplace. Over the fireplace was a giant painting of Mr Delgado himself, draped in black academic robes with a flash of gold silk lining. The faint smell of oil paint hung in the air. On either side of the fireplace, the walls were filled with smaller gold-framed photographs. I thought they’d be family portraits, but they weren’t. They were all pictures of Mr Delgado shaking hands with the cream of Philadelphia society.
Mr Delgado stood in one of the large windows. For a moment, I thought he was looking at something outside. Then I realized he was checking his reflection in the glass. He frowned, brushed his eyebrows back into place and turned from side to side, sucking in his stomach.
‘Dad,’ Sammy said. Mr Delgado jumped guiltily, turning to see who was there. Dad had already stepped away from me and Sammy and was moving along the wall, checking out each picture one at a time. I don’t think he wanted Mr Delgado to know he was there, not until he got a feel for him.
‘Sammy.’ Mr Delgado swallowed hard. The circumference of his collar was smaller than the circumference of his neck, and the extra roll of skin quivered. ‘I told you not to interrupt me while I’m working.’
‘But Dad, it’s important.’
‘Sammy, I’m very busy right now. I don’t have time for your nonsense.’ Mr Delgado tugged at his cuffs and straightened his cufflinks. His shirt was so perfectly white, I wondered if he’d bought it just for the press conference. He glanced at me. ‘Why don’t you and your little friend go play in your room?’
I gritted my teeth. I’d figured out what kind of dad kidnaps friends for his son – a bad one.
‘But Dad,’ Sammy said, pointing at me like I was something on a shelf, ‘this is Alice. She’s really good at solving mysteries. She can help find Dr Learner.’
Mr Delgado snorted. ‘I hardly think this is a place for a girl to get involved, Sammy. Now do me a favour and stop pestering me.’
Sammy glanced at me and then turned away, but not before I’d seen his red face and wet eyes. Mr Delgado saw them too. He scowled at Sammy and stepped across the space between them. His shoes were so highly polished they flashed as they caught the light. I hoped he’d put anti-slip pads on the soles, or he was asking for a fall.
‘Are you crying?’ He leant over Sammy until their faces were just centimetres apart. I couldn’t tell if he wanted me to hear what he said or not. But if he didn’t, he needed to talk a lot softer.
Sammy shook his head. I turned my back and stared at the windows. It was too painful to watch.
‘What have I told you about crying? It makes you look weak. Do you think I got to where I am today by looking weak?’
Sammy didn’t answer, but I imagined him shaking his head again, even more miserably.
‘Do you think you get to live in this nice house and have nice things because I cried when things were tough?’
‘No, sir,’ Sammy sniffed.
‘No. I didn’t. Now go to your room until you can control yourself.’
Sammy wiped his nose with the back of his arm. He took one last look at me and then fled. He ran so hard I could actually hear his footsteps on that thick carpet in the hall.
Mr Delgado looked at me. ‘I’m sorry you had to see that. I’d appreciate it if you didn’t tell the other children at school about this.’ I wasn’t sure if he wanted me to keep quiet about him being a jerk or about Sammy crying. Probably about Sammy crying. People like Mr Delgado never even realize they’re being jerks. People like Mr Delgado think they’re great no matter what evidence you have that proves otherwise. He reached into his back pocket and pulled out his wallet, like he was going to pay me to keep my mouth shut.
‘That’s OK,’ I said, shaking my head as he held out a twenty. I didn’t like Mr Delgado, and I didn’t want his money. I just wanted to get out of there.
Mr Delgado looked at me, then at the twenty, confused. I guess most people took the money. After a moment he put it back in his wallet. If I’d had my way, that would have been the end of it. Mr Delgado didn’t want any help, fine by me. Let him find his precious scientist on his own and let me out of there. The case might have been interesting, and I felt a twinge of guilt about Sammy, but it wasn’t up to me to fix his family problems.
My dad had other ideas. He’d finished looking at all of the pictures of Mr Delgado and his famous friends, and now made his way to the middle of the room.
‘Are you sure you don’t want her help, Mr Delgado?’ he asked. ‘Alice is very clever. She’s helped me on lots of cases.’
Mr Delgado turned around quickly to see who else was in the room. He didn’t look happy. I wondered if he’d try to pay my dad to keep quiet too. And if he’d offer him more than twenty bucks.
‘And you would be . . .?’ he asked.
‘Arthur Jones, Philadelphia Daily News. I’m Alice’s father.’ Dad pointed at one of the photos. ‘Is this you and the mayor?’
Mr Delgado lost his frown in a hurry as soon as he heard the word ‘news’. He shook my dad’s hand and smiled like he was accepting an award. I guess he didn’t want Dad writing any stories about the lousy way he spoke to his kid. ‘Yes, that’s the mayor. I hosted a little dinner for some local businesses and politicians this autumn. It was quite a success, if I do say so myself. Although we didn’t get the press coverage we deserved.’ He smiled ruefully. ‘But I guess that’s what happens when you have to keep the most exciting details of your work a secret.’
‘It sounds like you make some very challenging decisions for the good of your company. Great men are seldom recognized in their time,’ Dad said. ‘I hope you’ll forgive me for barging in on you like this. Sammy wanted to introduce you to Alice, and I’m afraid I couldn’t resist tagging along. I so wanted to meet you.’
Mr Delgado practically glowed. ‘No need to apologize. I completely understand. I didn’t get named Philadelphia Businessman of the Year playing by the rules. We make our own luck in this life, isn’t that right?’
‘How very true,’ Dad agreed.
Mr Delgado turned slowly to look at me again, and this time he smiled. I gritted my teeth harder. It was like being stared at by a snake.
‘Of course! How foolish of me. You aren’t just any Alice. You’re Alice Jones,’ he said, like somehow that made all the difference in the world. ‘Sammy certainly has told me a lot about you.’
‘I’ll bet,’ I said drily, wishing I’d never taken Sammy’s squirrel case.
‘Well, well, well, isn’t this interesting.’ He sat back down on one of the couches and patted the seat for me to sit beside him. I didn’t budge. I didn’t like where this was going one bit. I could almost read the headlines Mr Delgado was making up in his head.
‘Sammy and your father seem to think you just might be able to help me find my
friend.’ He leant forward and rested his elbows on his knees like he was talking to a three-year-old. ‘So what do you say? Will you help me? Will you take the case?’
‘You do realize I’m twelve?’
Mr Delgado laughed like a barking seal. ‘Ah, good, very good,’ he said, wiping the damp corners of his eyes. ‘Yes, I’m well aware of your age. Don’t worry, there are other people searching for Dr Learner and his research as well. I’ve hired the best private investigator in Pennsylvania to search for Dr Learner.’ He paused, his face darkening. ‘And I’m sure that other laboratories who want to get their hands on the invisibility su—’ He caught himself just in time. ‘Excuse me, Dr Learner’s research. They will be looking for him too. Alice, you might be the key to bringing my friend home safely. You have a certain . . . visibility that might be useful.’
‘So you don’t actually want me to find Dr Learner, you just want me to pretend to be looking for him to keep the press interested.’ The bottom of my feet were starting to itch from standing too long in wet socks. I shifted from one foot to the other and tried not to look too annoyed.
‘She is bright, isn’t she?’ Mr Delgado spoke to my dad over my shoulder like I wasn’t even in the room. Then he turned back to me. ‘Of course I wouldn’t expect a young girl like you to actually be able to find Dr Learner, but by helping to look for him you would keep the story in the papers. And if a member of the public reads the story and sends us a tip, well, that would almost be like you solving the mystery all by yourself.’
He smiled at me. A big, wide, patronizing smile.
‘So what do you say, will you help me? In fact, I’ll even give you a head start.’ He opened a small, thin drawer in the table beside the couch and pulled out a Manila folder. He waved it at me like it was some sort of treat. ‘These are the full details of the case. I was saving this for the private investigator I’ve hired, but I can make him another copy. I’m sure you’ll be discreet. And, of course, I’ll add your name to the authorized visitor list at Delgado Industries so you can check out the scene of the crime.’
I looked Mr Delgado up and down, from his fancy haircut to his handmade shoes. He was the kind of man who was used to getting his own way. Part of me wanted to turn him down flat, just to see the look on his face. But I didn’t. I had a better idea.
‘Fine,’ I said. ‘I’ll help you look for Dr Learner.’
Dad was across the room in two steps, and had the top secret folder in his hands before I got the words out of my mouth. He grinned.
‘Of course she’ll do it. I will need to accompany her, though. She is only a minor, after all.’
I could see dreams of insider access coming off my father in concentric rings. He shuffled me out of the room before Mr Delgado had a chance to change his mind. Or maybe he was more worried about me. But I wasn’t going to back out now.
I’d look for his missing scientist, and I’d find him too. No one uses me as a publicity stunt.
As we walked back through the Delgados’ entrance hall I tried to keep my dad between me and the stairs. I didn’t know how long it would take Sammy to recover from his dad’s scolding, but I didn’t want to run into him if I didn’t have to. Dad was so busy thumbing through the Manila folder, he didn’t notice until we were almost out of the door.
‘Wait, are you using me as a human shield?’ He stopped just inside the door and stared down at me.
I grabbed the folder out of his hand and looked over his shoulder up the stairs. No sign of Sammy yet. ‘I cover for you when you’re behind on a deadline.’
Dad paused, thinking it over. ‘True,’ he said. ‘All right, let’s get out of here.’
He didn’t have to tell me twice. I was out the door before he finished his sentence.
‘Numbers!’
I stopped dead in my tracks, stumbling forwards slightly when my dad walked into the back of me. It wasn’t Sammy. It was worse. The voice came from behind one of the decorative columns that stood next to the front door pretending to hold up the front of the Delgado Mansion.
‘Are you OK?’ Kevin Jordan peered around the edge of the column, his cherub cheeks glowing in the rain.
‘What are you doing here?’ I asked.
‘I saw those men grab you. I followed you. I rode your bike. We need to get out of here. Who’s that?’ The words tumbled out like marbles, clattering against each other. Kevin finally finished talking and stared suspiciously at my father.
‘That’s my dad,’ I said simply, and watched the confusion bloom on Kevin’s face.
Maybe I should have been kinder and explained the whole situation. Kevin had obviously seen me get shoehorned into the back of Bruno and Brutus’s car and tried to help out. Which was weird. Kevin Jordan hated me. I had the spitball marks to prove it. But I wasn’t feeling kind. I stalked down the marble steps into the rain and across the large gravel drive to where the cars were parked.
It was easy to spot my dad’s car, an ancient Plymouth station wagon, brick-coloured with faded wood panelling on the doors. It stood a little apart from all the other cars. Like they were embarrassed to get too close.
‘Alice, who is this?’ my dad asked, following me to the car.
‘This is Kevin. He sits next to me at school.’ I opened the passenger door. The hinges screeched loud enough to be heard above the rain.
‘Not Kevin the Spitball King?’ Dad asked.
‘That’s the one.’
‘Well, well, well.’ My dad fixed Kevin with a devilish grin. ‘It might get you noticed, but it won’t get you what you want. Come on, we’ll give you a lift home. Put the bike in the back.’
‘Thanks Mr Jones,’ Kevin said quietly.
Kevin Jordan being polite to my dad. It was the strangest thing I’d heard all day.
We drove home in silence. Dad was thinking about his big story. His fingers drummed against the steering wheel like he was already typing copy. What he wasn’t thinking about was the road. My dad drives like a maniac. I’m used to it, but for a first-timer like Kevin it must have been rough. I could actually hear his fingers crushing the cheap leather seat as he held on for dear life.
I almost felt sorry for him. But I had bigger things to worry about than Kevin Jordan. I’d just agreed to spend the summer playing detective, and I was pretty sure Sammy was going to want to tag along. I should have said no, but Mr Delgado made me too angry to think straight. I sighed. It was too late to back out, I’d just have to do my best. At least Dad would be happy. He was getting first-class access to Delgado Industries.
From Sammy’s, it was quicker to get to our house than to Kevin’s. We live on Passfield Avenue, near South Street, so Dad dropped me off first. He stopped the Plymouth in the middle of the street and asked Kevin to get my bike out of the back.
I climbed out carefully, watching for traffic, and made my way around the car on to the pavement. It was littered with puddles.
Dad rolled down his window. ‘I’ll be back soon. I’ll pick up some dinner on my way home,’ he said.
Kevin handed me my bike and then took a step backward, away from Dad’s car.
‘I think I can walk home from here,’ he said when my dad waved for him to get back in.
‘No, get in. I insist.’
My dad was a hard man to say no to.
While Kevin got into the front seat and fastened his seat belt, Dad leant out of the window and waved me closer.
‘He seems nice.’ Dad winked at me. Then he pulled his head back into the car and drove away.
It had been a long day, the kind of day that called for a hot bath and a glass of cold milk. I trudged up the three concrete steps to our front door, dragging my bike beside me. I was still soaked to the bone, and shivering despite the muggy heat. The Delgados’ air conditioning system had done a real number on me. My fingers looked like raisins.
Our house was a small two-bedroom brick-fronted building. Wrought-iron bars protected the ground floor windows from anyone who wanted to do more th
an have a peek inside. It wasn’t much, but it was home. I shoved my key in the deadbolt, but it was already open, which was odd. Dad always locked the deadbolt. I used the second key on the Yale lock and slowly pushed it open.
The front door opened on to our combined living room and kitchen. Living room to the left. Kitchen to the right. A waist-high counter separated the two sections. The deadbolt being unlocked had put me on edge, or maybe I was just too tired to think properly. Whatever the reason, I noticed the refrigerator was open and I panicked.
I jumped around the corner of the counter to the kitchen side of the room and shouted, throwing my backpack at the shape crouching in front of the fridge. I immediately wished I hadn’t. The shape was my twin sister Della. Della screamed and jumped. The carton she’d been holding arced through the air in a low parabola: y+x2=0. Then it hit the ground and exploded, showering me and Della and most of the downstairs in semi-skimmed milk.
‘What the heck, Alice?’ Della said, flicking milk drops off her hands. Each flick was a miniature performance of her displeasure.
‘Sorry,’ I said. ‘I’m so sorry. It’s been one of those days.’
When our parents split up a few years ago, Mom took Della and me with her to New York City. Mom’s a costume designer. I fitted in with her showbiz life like a pickle on an ice cream sundae, so I learnt how to do my own washing and moved back to Philly to be with Dad. But Della loved the city. She’d always wanted to be a star on Broadway. She’s got a few parts too. Orphan Number Three and First Street Urchin were among her finer performances.
Most summers, Della and Mom would go upstate to do summer stock theatre productions, but this year Mom had got a job designing costumes for a new production of The Magic Flute. The problem was, the production was in Italy.
So this summer Della was staying with us. She’d been here for two days, and I was still getting used to it. It was hard to believe we shared a room until we were eight. I guess a lot can change in four years.
Della handed me a roll of paper towels, one eyebrow raised artfully. You could have seen it from the stalls. It said, You made this mess. You clean it up.
