The Impossible Clue

by Sarah Rubin

  My phone rang and I climbed out of the shower, dripping water all over the floor.

  ‘Hey Dad.’

  ‘Alice, I’ve been trying to call you. I need to put this story to bed. Make my day and tell me you found some nice, juicy personal details for me?’ I could hear him typing furiously on the other end of the line. Dad must be the only person who can carry on a conversation about one thing while writing about something entirely different. It was like he had two brains. Maybe that was why he couldn’t sit still for more than two seconds at a time.

  ‘Sorry Dad. I got nothing.’

  ‘What do you mean “nothing”?’

  ‘Dr Learner’s apartment was a health hazard. The smell almost killed me. If there was a cat anywhere, it was dead.’

  ‘Ouch.’

  Dad paused. Even the typing stopped. I felt rotten.

  ‘Listen, Sammy told me Dr Learner and Mr Delgado really were good friends when they were at the University of Pennsylvania together. Mr Delgado brought Dr Learner back from California so they could work together. Also, Sammy really looked up to him, like a mentor or something. They did science projects together. That’s an angle, isn’t it?’

  ‘Hmmm.’ The typing started again. ‘Best friends build a business together. Dr Learner is kind to children, yeah, there’s something there. OK, I’ll be home late tonight. Take care of dinner, all right?’

  ‘I’m just going to do it now.’

  I put my hair up and climbed into my clean clothes. I left the ones I’d been wearing at Dr Learner’s in the middle of the bathroom floor. I’d come back later with some rubber gloves to deal with those.

  Downstairs I got some macaroni and a jar of cheese sauce out of the cupboard and put a pan of water on the stove to boil. It wasn’t gourmet dining, but it was full of carbs. Just what the diva ordered.

  I was chopping up hot dogs to throw into the sauce when the phone rang again. This time it was the house phone, not my mobile.

  ‘Alice? It’s me, Sammy. I wanted to talk to you about the case. I heard you went to Dr Learner’s apartment. Uh, I was wondering if you . . . uh . . . Did you find anything?’ Sammy asked, doing a bad job trying to sound casual.

  ‘I’m kind of busy right now, Sammy. This isn’t a good time.’ I wasn’t lying either. The pan had boiled over and the stove was spitting and hissing.

  ‘Oh,’ Sammy said. I could feel his dejection through the phone line, like he was sending it down the wire. I should have just hung up, but I didn’t. Seeing the state of Dr Learner’s apartment had made me realize that being a loner could lead to scary situations. Or maybe I’d inhaled something poisonous. Mostly, though, now that I knew how much Sammy admired Dr Learner, I felt sorry for him.

  ‘Look Sammy, I can’t talk now. But I want to go back to the lab tomorrow . . .’

  ‘Great, we can go together. It’ll be great! What time do you want me to pick you up?’

  ‘No, I’ll . . .’ I was going to tell him I’d meet him there. But then I remembered that Dad’s story would keep him really busy, so I might not have a lift. And I was pretty sure Sammy had a car and chauffeur allocated for his personal use, and not just for lifts to and from school. ‘Fine, pick me up at nine. I’ll see you tomorrow.’

  I hung up the phone, cutting off Sammy’s excited babble, and drained the pasta before it turned to mush. It wasn’t until I’d laid the table that I realized how odd Sammy’s call really was. How had he known I’d been to Dr Learner’s apartment? And what did he think I might have found? He’d acted strange when he came over earlier too. The way he fidgeted on the couch. That kid was hiding something. And tomorrow I was going to find out what.

  Della and I ate dinner in character. She was Annie. I was Miss Hannigan. It was a flashback to my entire childhood. I put on my best evil voice and told Della she was a ‘rotten orphan’.

  Della laughed. ‘You know what this reminds me of? Back when we were on the pageant circuit together and Mom used to make us practise our act at the dinner table.’

  ‘Don’t remind me.’ Mom had entered us in the Little Miss Friendship pageant when we were four. Della won and I took runner-up. I had the teeny-weeny trophy at the back of my bedroom cupboard to prove it.

  After that, Della got the performance bug. She got it bad. And my mom loved it. The problem was, I didn’t. And no one believed me. It took me three pageants to figure out how to get out of it.

  I mooned the audience.

  I still laugh when I remember the look on that head judge’s face.

  ‘I’ll never understand how you gave it up,’ Della said. ‘Don’t you want to get back out there?’ Her eyes were full of pity. Like I was missing out on something.

  ‘Nope.’ I speared a piece of hot dog and put it in my mouth. End of discussion.

  Della took a dainty bite and chewed thoughtfully.

  ‘I called Mom, like you said. She was sad she didn’t get to talk to you.’

  I swallowed too soon and the piece of hot dog went down my throat in a lump. ‘I had to go out.’

  ‘She says Italy is amazing. She said if we want she’ll get us tickets and we can spend a week with her at the end of the summer.’

  ‘What about Annie?’

  ‘Even if I get the part, I’d be sharing it with two other girls. I’m sure I’d be able to get one week off. Even actresses get vacations, you know. What do you think? Wouldn’t it be amazing?’

  ‘I guess,’ I said slowly. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to go to Italy. It was just that I knew what a trip to Italy with Della and my mom meant. It meant a week of shopping and shows and not a lot else.

  If Dad came too, then there’d be someone to come with me to do my kind of things. But you can’t exactly ask someone to invite her ex-husband to the party.

  ‘Well, you should talk to her,’ Della said. ‘I think it would be fun.’

  ‘Of course it’ll be fun for you. You and Mom like doing all of the same things.’

  ‘What are you talking about?’

  ‘If we go to Italy, I’ll want to see things like the Archimedes museum or go on a tour of Renaissance architecture.’

  Della groaned and rolled her eyes.

  ‘See.’ I pointed. ‘See! That face. That face is exactly how I’ll feel when you two drag me to see another show or go to another dress fitting.’

  ‘But Alice, those things are normal. Everyone likes shows and shopping.’

  ‘Just forget it.’ It was the story of my life. Everyone understood that Della loved being on stage and that she hated maths. Because that was normal. But when I said I loved maths and hated performing, people looked at me like I had a screw loose. And because the things I liked weren’t normal, I didn’t have any right to ask other people to do them with me.

  ‘Fine, but you need to talk to Mom.’ Della held up her hands. ‘I’m not doing it for you. Come on, let’s run the scene one more time.’

  ‘No.’ Maybe it was childish, but I didn’t want to play ‘acting’ any more. ‘I already ran the lines with you eleven times. You know them off by heart. I know them off by heart. Give it a rest. Besides, I have work to do.’

  ‘That case? Are you serious?’ Della looked at me like I’d just refused to give her a blood transfusion.

  ‘Yes. I’m serious.’

  ‘That guy only hired you so you’d hang out with his kid. Why are you wasting your time on some stupid mystery you’re never going to solve?’

  ‘Why are you wasting your time auditioning for a part you’re never going to get?’ I shot back. It was a low blow and I knew it, but it was out before I could stop myself.

  Della stood up from the counter. Her lips pursed, her eyes narrowed. She told me that we were no longer on speaking terms without saying a single word. Then she turned on her heel and walked away, her blonde hair bouncing angrily as she climbed the stairs. The hair was a nice touch. It said I’ll show you.

  Della was going to get that part just to prove me wrong. Well, two could play at th
at game.

  I got out the Delgado file and spread the pages out on the floor in front of the couch. If she could get a part out of spite, then I could solve a case that way. There had to be something in all of those papers. Some clue to how Dr Learner had escaped. I looked at the pictures. I read the eye-witness statements. But the more I looked, the less I saw. It was like Delgado had put together a file with no real clues on purpose.

  Kevin Jordan’s question popped into my head. What would I do if I could turn invisible? I didn’t really know. It wasn’t like there was anyone I wanted to spy on. I could use it to hide from Sammy, or Della when she was being a diva, but it’s not like hiding would solve my problems. It might be fun to sneak into the university and go to some advanced maths classes. (They won’t even consider me until I turn sixteen.) But that was just a fantasy. There couldn’t really be an invisibility suit, could there?

  I leant back on the couch and held the floor plan of the Delgado Industries office building over my head. Maybe the light would shine through it and reveal a secret message. It was as good as any of the other ideas I’d had. And with everyone else running around talking about invisibility suits, it didn’t seem all that far-fetched.

  When I opened my eyes, the room was dark. Someone had taken the Delgado Industries floor plan out of my hands and covered me with a blanket. Dad. I could hear him typing from the other side of his office door. He must still be working on the story. The real story, that is, not the puff piece his editor wanted. I’d have to tell him all about the rest of my day in the morning. He’d be over the moon when I told him the FBI was involved.

  I thought about going upstairs and sneaking into my room, but it seemed like too much trouble. Della was in my bed, and the air mattress would still be propped up against the window. So I just stretched out where I was and fell asleep listening to the comforting clatter of Dad’s keyboard.

  I woke up at seven with bird-nest hair and dents on the side of my face from using the corduroy couch cushion as a pillow. I had a crick in my neck that felt like an ice pick.

  Dad was rushing around the kitchen, trying to eat his breakfast and get ready for work at the same time. He had a square of toast in his mouth and a cup of coffee in his hand. Every move was a disaster waiting to happen. Della stood still, eating a bowl of porridge with one leg stretched up on the counter like it was a ballet barre.

  ‘Morning sweetie,’ Dad said. ‘I’ll be late again today, but call me if you need anything. Either of you.’

  Dad gulped down the dregs of his coffee and put his water bottle in his bag before giving me a kiss on the forehead. His chin was rough with two days’ worth of stubble. Then he kissed Della and ran out the door.

  As the door banged shut, I realized I hadn’t told him about my meeting with the FBI or the silver Mercedes that had been following me. But he was already gone. I’d have to tell him when he came home. Until then, I’d just have to be careful. I shambled into the kitchen and poured myself the last of the coffee from the pot. Della moved out of my way, but didn’t say a word. She still wasn’t talking to me. We finished our breakfast in silence.

  Sammy showed up right on time. He arrived in a black town car, probably the same car that ‘picked me up’ from school two days ago. It seemed like a lot longer ago than that. I’d spent the past two days chasing my tail and I was exhausted. I gathered up the papers from the Delgado file and stuffed them into my messenger bag. I could feel Della’s eyes on me every time I turned my back. I guess the town car was pretty impressive. But I wasn’t in the mood to explain. I slung my bag over my shoulder and walked out of the door without looking back.

  I scanned the street carefully as I walked down our front steps. No silver cars in sight. I didn’t waste any time climbing through the door Sammy’s driver held open for me. It felt good to be behind tinted windows.

  I let Sammy talk about the case for the first couple of minutes, while I kept busy checking the windows to make sure we weren’t being followed. He spoke at a terrifying pace, words forming and tumbling out on top of each other like cars on the motorway heading for a crash. After we’d gone through three junctions with no sign of the silver Mercedes, I started to relax. I didn’t know where they were, but they weren’t after me and that was good enough.

  Sammy was still talking a mile a minute. I hoped he stayed talkative. I had some questions and I wanted answers.

  ‘Sammy,’ I interrupted him in the middle of a story about the time he and Dr Learner built a hovercraft. He stopped jabbering and tilted his head eagerly to one side. ‘How did you know I went to Dr Learner’s apartment yesterday?’ I asked as casually as I could. It wasn’t like I was accusing him of anything, but it did seem strange. He’d already had his dad kidnap me over to play. For all I knew, Mr Delgado was having me followed. Maybe I’d been wrong about the silver Mercedes. Maybe it wasn’t Chronos’s car, maybe it was Mr Delgado’s.

  ‘Oh, I called your house. No one was home, so I phoned your dad. I would have called you, but I don’t have your mobile number.’

  He looked at me hopefully, but I didn’t bite. The last thing I needed was phone calls from Sammy. But it answered the question. I guess I was lucky he hadn’t decided to come over and help.

  ‘OK, that makes sense,’ I said. Dad exchanged numbers with everyone he met, just in case they ever turned into a source. I shook my shoulders, trying to lose the feeling someone was watching my every move. The case was making me jumpy and it was getting hard to think straight.

  ‘I’m sorry I couldn’t come over and help you. It would have been great! I even got all this detective stuff.’ He pulled his backpack on to the seat between us and unzipped it so I could see inside. He had a notebook, a magnifying glass, a small fingerprint brush and vial of printing powder, and a listening device that looked like an MP3 player. Actually, the listening device looked pretty cool, but the rest of it was useless. What’s the point of taking fingerprints when you don’t have access to a criminal database?

  ‘Isn’t it great? I ordered it after you took the case, special delivery. It came this morning. This time when we search Dr Learner’s office, we’ll find something for sure!’

  ‘You said something like that on the phone too,’ I said. ‘You asked me if I’d found anything.’

  The colour drained out of Sammy’s face like water out of a bath. I think he actually had to bite his tongue to keep his mouth shut.

  ‘What did you think I was going to find?’

  Most of the time, the best way to get someone to talk is to make them sit in silence. Especially someone like Sammy. I waited and watched as the wheels spun in his head. I only had to count prime numbers up to seventeen before he cracked.

  ‘I didn’t mean anything specific,’ he stammered. ‘I just wanted to know if you found any clues, that’s all. Like a ransom note or something like that.’ Sammy had been reading too many detective books. He looked at me out of the corner of his eye to see if I was buying it. I wasn’t. So Sammy kept on trying.

  ‘Or maybe you found something about his research, or where he hid it. I don’t know. I just wanted to help.’

  ‘Wait, back up,’ I said, as the car braked suddenly as someone swerved into traffic in front of us. I checked the window again for the silver Mercedes, but it still wasn’t there. Then I turned back to Sammy. ‘Dr Learner hid his research?’

  Sammy froze, a total rabbit in headlights. He licked his lips.

  ‘I don’t know, maybe he hid it. If no one can find it, it must be hidden somewhere, right?’ he back-pedalled furiously.

  ‘Hidden or it never existed at all,’ I said. I was getting tired of Sammy not telling the whole truth. The worst part was, I couldn’t figure out why he was lying. Or what he was hiding. I knew he wanted to find Dr Learner, so why wouldn’t he tell me everything he knew?

  I gave Sammy one more hard look, but I knew I wasn’t going to get anything else out of him.

  ‘All right, all right.’ I held up my hands. There was n
o point in arguing with Sammy if I didn’t have any facts to back up my theory.

  Sammy watched me. His face was tense, but it softened when he realized I was done asking questions. He pulled his backpack on to his lap and spent the rest of the journey examining the car’s leather interior with his mail-order magnifying glass.

  When we finally arrived at Delgado Industries, the chauffeur made his way through the car park and towards the back of the building. He parked and came around the side, opening the door for Sammy. I let myself out.

  ‘My dad’s private entrance is back here. I told him we were coming this morning. He’ll let us in.’

  Sammy led me up a few steps to a large metal door with a keypad lock and intercom. He pressed the buzzer.

  ‘Dad, it’s me.’

  The door clicked and Sammy pulled with all his strength. It came open, but so slowly it was like watching the glaciers recede. I grabbed on and helped.

  Mr Delgado sat back in his swivel chair with his legs propped up on his desk. Across from him in a low metal chair sat a very young, very eager-looking reporter. She must have been a new recruit. Mr Delgado was on the phone and she didn’t even have her Dictaphone running. Dad would have had a fit. I didn’t know who was on the other end of the line, but Mr Delgado looked very pleased with what they were saying.

  ‘Well, I’m glad you feel that way,’ he was saying. ‘No, I completely understand. We wouldn’t want you to sign anything without being completely sure. Bad business practice.’

  The reporter looked at us and then back at Mr Delgado. I guess she didn’t think we were worth talking to. I shrugged and followed Sammy to a hard leather couch on the other side of the room. She obviously wasn’t a crime reporter; she would have pounced on us in a heartbeat. Maybe someone from the lifestyle section?