“Part of the time,” Jake said. “I travel around quite a bit. In fact, I’m thinking about spending a bit more time in Brooklyn.” He cast a quick glance at Gigi, who blushed like a schoolgirl. Randi didn’t need to be a detective to figure out there was something going on between the two of them.
“You won’t be bored, that’s for sure. It’s nonstop excitement around here,” Gigi said, moving the conversation along. “Why don’t you guys tell our guest about the Russian thieves who live downstairs?”
“You got Russian thieves in the building?” Jake asked with a laugh. “That’s a real selling point right there. Been meaning to bone up on my Russian. It’s gotten a little rusty. My thieving skills could probably use a bit of work, too.”
A long silence followed. Randi looked at Gigi. Pudge looked at Randi. D.C. looked at Pudge.
Jake’s grin vanished. “What? Did I say something wrong? I was just kidding about the thieving. I’ve never stolen a thing in my life.”
Gigi cleared her throat and set down her napkin. “Did you just say you understand Russian?”
“Yep,” Jake said. “I learned it in the army.”
Another long silence followed.
“Okay, now I’m confused,” Jake said. “What’s the big deal about knowing how to speak Russian?”
That’s when everyone started to talk at once.
~ ~ ~ ~
Jake pressed his ear to the top of the bowl. “Wow, this actually works,” he said. “I can hear them talking downstairs.”
He listened for almost ten minutes straight before he sat up.
“So what did they say?” Randi asked.
“Not much. They aren’t exactly the most talkative bunch. But you’ll be happy to know that you won’t have to worry about them anymore,” the stunt man told the group. “Sounds like they’re moving out in the morning.”
“Good,” Randi said. “Let’s hope this whole experience has turned them off of eggs for the rest of their lives.”
Jake frowned. “Weird thing is, they didn’t sound too depressed about it. In fact, I got the sense that they were taking something pretty valuable with them.”
“But the eggs aren’t missing. Do you think they could have stolen something else from the museum?” D.C. asked.
“With all that security?” Gigi responded. “Highly unlikely. They were probably just talking about their equipment.”
“The museum is throwing a special party for VIPs tomorrow,” Randi said pensively. “I was worried that the thieves might try something then, but if they’re leaving town in the morning, I guess they really have given up.”
“Randi got the NYPD to station more officers at the museum,” Gigi explained to Jake. “The extra security must have scared the crooks off.”
Pudge threw his hands in the air and did his signature victory dance. “Another case closed. The ninja detectives are two for two!”
“Good job, everybody,” Randi said. “Thanks for helping us out, Jake.”
“My pleasure,” he told the group. “I’m just grateful I got a chance to work with a real-life team of ninja detectives.”
“I say this great news calls for something sweet,” Gigi announced. “Want to help me get dessert ready?”
“Sure,” Randi said, heading toward the kitchen.
“Actually, I was asking Jake,” her aunt said. “He brought something for all of us to share.”
“It would be an honor,” Jake said, gathering the dishes that the kids had stacked and following Gigi into the kitchen.
Ten minutes passed and the two adults still hadn’t emerged.
“What do think they’re doing in there?” D.C. asked, staring at the kitchen door.
“Washing the dishes,” Pudge joked, kissing the back of his hand.
“Hey!” Randi was about to set him straight when Jake came out of the kitchen with a pastry box in his hands.
“So! You guys up for a culinary adventure?” he asked. “I picked up a special treat from my favorite Korean restaurant.”
“That’s the dessert you were just fixing?” Pudge teased, pointing at the package in Jake’s hand. “It took you guys ten whole minutes to open a pastry box?”
“Don’t be cheeky,” Jake warned with a wink. He opened the box and set it down on the table. Stacked inside were what looked like waffles in the shape of fish.
“They’re not actually made out of fish, are they?” Pudge asked.
“Nope. They’re waffles with cream or red bean paste inside,” Jake said.
“How’d they get them in the shape of fish?” D.C. asked.
“Duh,” said Randi. “They used a fish-shaped waffle iron. I bet you could get an iron that makes waffles in any shape you . . .”
Her brain was suddenly whirling away so fast that her mouth couldn’t catch up. The first thing she remembered was the powerful smell of caramel that had woken her up on Thanksgiving morning. Then the kitchen equipment they’d seen the men downstairs moving into the elevator. The poisonous daffodil that the Prince of Darkness had popped right into his mouth. And the way the man opening crates at the museum had handled the eggs inside with extraordinary care.
“Randi? Are you okay?” Gigi asked.
“The men downstairs stole the eggs,” Randi announced. “They’re moving them out in the morning. And if we don’t have proof by the time they skip town, those eggs will never be seen again.”
* * *
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
* * *
SWEET TEETH
It was five o’clock in the morning, and the sun still hadn’t peeked above the horizon. The three ninja detectives and Gigi were standing in the dark by the living room window, watching as the men from downstairs finished packing a white van with boxes.
“Ninja One, come in, Ninja One.” The voice came from the walkie-talkie in Randi’s hand. Jake was sitting in his car, which was parked half a block from Gigi’s building.
“This is Ninja One,” Randi said. “Tell us what you’ve got, Daredevil.”
“It’s a white Ford van, license plate number TGD1652. It’s carrying three men and twenty-four boxes of various sizes. I’ve taken pictures of the suspects and their cargo.”
Randi jotted it down in her notebook. “Excellent work, Daredevil,” she said. “You’ve been a great addition to the team.”
“Thank you,” Jake replied. “Any chance of me becoming an official ninja detective?”
“We’ll see,” Randi told him. “There’s a test you have to pass first.”
D.C. giggled in the background.
“Wow, you guys are tough,” Jake said. “Okay, they’re all in the van now. The engine just started, and . . . they’re off.”
Randi and her friends watched the van drive away. No one moved an inch until the vehicle’s taillights had disappeared into the early-morning darkness.
Randi was the one who gave the word. “Time to rock ’n’ roll. Jake, we’re going in. Stay in position and keep an eye on the front door. Give me a shout if it looks like anyone might be coming our way.”
“Roger that,” Jake said.
The ninja detectives and Gigi crept down the hall single file. They had to move fast. Randi was convinced that the thieves had left incriminating evidence behind. But even that wouldn’t make much of a difference if the crooks were able to skip town before the proof made it to the police.
They passed the elevator and took the fire stairs instead. Soon they were standing in front of the door to the apartment. Randi tried the knob. It refused to turn, so she dug into her back pocket and pulled out one of Gigi’s old credit cards.
“Are you sure this is gonna work?” Pudge whispered.
“They left in a pretty big hurry,” Randi said. “I doubt they took the time to lock the dead bolt. If the knob has the same kind of lock that Gigi’s has, it should be a cinch to open.”
She slowly slid the credit card between the crack and the door. The lock popped open.
“It was that easy?�
� Gigi looked both shocked and impressed. “I’ll never forget to lock my dead bolt again.”
~ ~ ~ ~
Inside the apartment, a sickly sweet odor hung in the air. The living room was completely empty. The men had left nothing behind.
“What exactly are we looking for?” Gigi asked.
“I’m not sure, but I’ll know it when I see it,” Randi responded. She hadn’t let anyone else in on her theory. It was too nuts for even the ninja detectives to believe without some solid proof. “Let’s check out the kitchen.”
The smell was even stronger inside the kitchen, which was as empty as the rest of the apartment. Fortunately, the men hadn’t bothered to clean. A long island in the center of the room was sprinkled with a substance that had hardened into shiny splotches. The floor was covered with the same stuff, and the soles of Randi’s sneakers stuck to the tile with each step she took. Randi wet a finger with her tongue, ran the tip across one of the splotches, and stuck it back into her mouth.
“Eeeew!” Pudge exclaimed with disgust. “Miranda Rhodes! Did you just do what I think you just did?”
“Relax,” Randi said with a roll of her eyes. “It’s sugar.”
“That doesn’t look like sugar to me,” D.C. argued.
“Nope,” Randi replied. “And that’s the whole idea.”
“I don’t get it,” Gigi said.
Randi needed to show them something more impressive than splatter. Then a bolt of inspiration made her fall to her knees. She crawled around the kitchen island, searching the tiles for something that the men might have dropped. And then she saw it. Trapped in a crack between two of the tiles was a tiny yellow flower. No larger than a baby pea, it was absolutely perfect in every way.
“Bingo,” Randi said. “Take a look at this.”
The others reluctantly got down on their hands and knees for a look at the tiny object that had fallen into the crack.
“It’s a flower,” Pudge said. He didn’t sound terribly impressed.
“Looks like one, doesn’t it?” Randi asked. “What if I told you it was made out of sugar?”
“I’d say you were nuts,” D.C. said, reaching out to pick it up.
“Don’t!” Randi shouted. She grabbed at his arm, but it was too late.
D.C. had plucked the miniature flower out of the crack. “Wow. You’re right,” he said. “It’s not a plant. It’s hard like . . .” Suddenly, the flower shattered between his fingertips. He looked down at the tiny pieces and then up at Randi. “I’m so sorry!” he blubbered. “I’m so, so . . .”
“The damage is done. Stop talking and taste it,” Randi ordered.
D.C. grimaced, then stuck his fingers in his mouth. “It really was made of sugar,” he announced.
“But how is that possible?” Gigi exclaimed. “And what does it have to do with the stolen Fabergé eggs?”
“Don’t you see? They made copies of the eggs—out of sugar,” Randi said. “There are pastry chefs who can make almost anything out of sugar. It’s called sugar sculpture. And what kind of businesses does Andrei Gorchakov own?”
“Pastry shops,” Pudge answered.
“Yep. He must have hired a good chef to make the fakes. This flower looks just like one of the flowers on an Imperial Egg called Basket of Wild Flowers. It’s one of the eggs in the Fabergé exhibit. The thieves probably came here with molds of the eggs they wanted to steal. Then they poured the sugar into the molds and painted the result to look like the real thing. Somehow, they managed to switch some of the eggs the day the delivery was made to the museum. Now they have the real eggs. The ones on display across the street are made out of sugar.”
Randi’s three companions gaped at her. Despite the desperate situation, Randi couldn’t help but grin.
“How on earth did you figure that out?” Gigi asked. “And if you say, It’s elementary, I’m going to kick you right in the rump.”
“I kind of knew something was up when your apartment smelled like cooking sugar,” Randi explained. “Then there was the daffodil that the Prince of Darkness ate. But it took those fish waffles that Jake brought for me to put the pieces together. I figured if you can make fish out of waffles, you could make eggs out of sugar.”
“But why would the thieves use sugar?” D.C. asked. “Why not clay or something? Sugar eggs won’t last very long, will they?”
“Nope,” Randi confirmed. “Because sugar dissolves. And if the fake eggs happen to get wet, they’ll melt. Remember I told you about the three Imperial Eggs that seemed to vanish into thin air? The authorities knew that someone must have stolen them—but at the time they went missing, there hadn’t been anyone around to take them. But the eggs didn’t disappear—they got wet and dissolved.”
“It’s brilliant,” Gigi marveled. “You switch a real egg for a fake one. Then you arrange to make the phony egg disappear when you’re not around. You won’t be a suspect because you weren’t at the scene of the crime.”
“Exactly,” Randi said.
“Wait,” said D.C. “Is that why the men just left? They already stole the real eggs and left the fake ones behind. Now that they’re gone, does this mean the sugar eggs at the museum are going to disappear soon?”
“Yep,” Randi confirmed. “My guess is they’ll disappear tonight. The news report yesterday morning said that the guests at tonight’s VIP opening are going to get to see the eggs ‘up close and personal.’ I’d bet you a million dollars that the sprinkler system is tripped during the party. When the water hits the eggs, they’ll dissolve. It will look like the eggs have been stolen, and everyone at the party will be a suspect. Meanwhile, the real thieves will have already made their escape.”
“We’ve got to go to the cops!” Pudge urged.
“But D.C. squished our proof,” Randi said. “The police will never believe me after everything that’s happened. They’ll think I’m just trying to cause more trouble.”
“Maybe the thieves dropped something else on the floor,” D.C. said.
“Everybody get down and start looking,” Randi ordered.
“Ninja One, come in, Ninja One.” Jake’s voice squawked through the walkie-talkie hooked to Randi’s belt.
“What’s up, Daredevil?”
“There’s a professional cleaning crew on the way up,” Jake reported. “I pretended to be the superintendent and asked them where they were going and they told me apartment 6D. They’ve got a thug with them who looks like he might be packing more than a broom. You need to get out now!”
Randi shoved the walkie-talkie back in its holster. “Okay, guys. You heard the man. Let’s beat it.”
She ushered everyone out of the apartment and closed the door softly behind her. They had barely taken three steps down the hall when they heard the elevator arrive. Four men stepped out. Three were dressed in gray uniforms and carrying cleaning equipment. The fourth was wearing a tailored suit. The men stopped when they saw Randi and her friends. Standing shoulder to shoulder, they formed a solid barrier. There was no way around them.
“Excuse me,” Gigi said politely.
The men didn’t move. The one in the suit examined them with narrowed eyes.
“I didn’t know kids these days used police-issue walkie-talkies,” he said, pointing at the device in the holster attached to Randi’s belt.
“They do when they’re playing paintball,” Randi replied in a chipper voice.
“That’s our secret weapon,” Pudge joined in. “Communication.”
“Yeah,” D.C. added. “We’re the champions in our age group.”
“I’m so proud of them,” Gigi gushed. “And to think these little urchins had never had any weapons training before I adopted them last year. Would you like to see our family’s trophy case? Our apartment is just at the end of the hall. I have videos, too!”
“Thanks, but no thanks,” the man said, suddenly eager to make an escape. When he stepped aside, the ninjas and Gigi hurried toward the elevator.
“You sure?” Gigi as
ked.
“Never been more sure of anything in my life,” the man replied as the elevator doors slid shut.
“Whew. That was close,” D.C. said.
“Good thinking, guys,” Gigi said. “Let’s get home.”
“Not yet.” Randi hit the button for the basement.
“Why’d you do that?” Pudge asked.
“There’s one other place where we might find some evidence,” Randi announced. “Making those eggs must have been pretty messy. I’m betting there’s something to be found in the trash.”
The garbage room in the basement of the building was overflowing with identical black sacks. Finding a tiny shard of evidence would be like searching for a needle in a haystack.
“Today’s garbage day,” Gigi said. “The superintendent is going to start moving these bags out to the sidewalk soon. Then the garbagemen will come by to collect them.”
Randi spotted a box of Latex gloves on a shelf by the door. She took out a pair for herself and then tossed the box to Pudge. “Then we better get busy looking,” she said.
“But how do we know where to start?” D.C. asked.
“Use your nose,” Randi said. “See if you can find any bags that actually smell good.”
Randi picked up the bag closest to the entrance and gave it a whiff. “Dirty diapers,” she said, gagging as she tossed the bag to the side. “I think we can rule that one out.”
D.C. lifted a sack up to his nose. “Holy moly, that’s nasty,” he announced. “Definitely kitty litter.” The bag quickly joined Randi’s.
“I guess it’s my turn,” Pudge said, looking at the bag in his hands. He gave it a sniff. “I think I’m gonna throw up. I’m pretty sure something died in there.”
“Hey, guys,” Gigi called out. “I’ve got something.”
She turned a black garbage bag upside down, and a pile of sweet-smelling plastic wrap tumbled out. Randi got down on her knees and searched through the trash, hoping to find one tiny piece of what the men had been making. There were plenty of shards of a substance that looked like glass and tasted like sugar. But there was nothing she could take to the police. Then, at the bottom of the pile, she found a tag with several barcodes, a word spelled in the Russian alphabet—and three letters she recognized. JFK, the code for John F. Kennedy International Airport.
The Sweetest Heist in History Page 11
