Kelsey the Spy

by Linda J Singleton

  My favorite activity is the Puppy Raceway, where the first puppy race is scheduled for noon. Puppies race around obstacles and are rewarded with treats. All the puppies in the race are up for adoption. Another activity is the Furry and Fabulous Fashion Show, where a 4-H group has made glamorous outfits for older cats and dogs who are harder to adopt. I pause at this booth to wave at a cocker mix with just three legs that barks hello.

  As I weave through the aisles I see lots of familiar faces from school: Erik, Ann Marie, Tori, Mr. Thompson, and Mrs. Ross. I spot Becca’s mother with Wild Oak volunteers at a large booth with animal crates. Hank and a few other men are carefully unloading Albert off a wheeled cart. I head over to see Albert but stop when I hear someone call my name.

  “Kelsey!” I turn to see Leo waving from the drama club’s booth. It’s decorated with sets and costumes from The Lion King. A bulletin board announces that every hour, actors in jungle costumes will perform scenes from the play. They’re raffling off gorgeous wrapped baskets on display with stuffed zoo animals and play tickets.

  I spot Frankie smearing yellow face makeup on a stocky kid—I think his name is Haydon—who stars as Simba in the play. The drama teacher, Mrs. Ross, and her assistant, Perrin, struggle to fit a humongous lion headpiece on Haydon. I study Perrin; his curly black hair is pulled back in a bandana, and he’s wearing a medieval-looking puffy-sleeved shirt like a pirate. He struts around giving orders to other kids like he thinks he’s the boss. I’ll bet he already knew Sophia had the part when he accepted the theater tickets from her.

  “Hey, Leo,” I say, walking over. “What are you doing here? I thought you were going to help out with cookie sales.”

  “I’m waiting to talk to Frankie. But it could be a while.” He gestures to Frankie, who is gluing wild-animal hair onto Simba’s arms.

  “Did you notice who else is here?” Frowning, I point to Perrin. “He’s the reason Sophia dropped out of the play and isn’t here today. I’m tempted to go tell him off.”

  “Don’t waste your breath. Jerks like that don’t care whom they hurt.”

  “Instead of taking the tickets from Sophia, he could have told her that she would probably get the part on her own,” I say angrily. “But he’s so stuck on himself, I bet he’s the one who told the Corning Comic about the bribe.”

  “That’s what Frankie thinks too.”

  I pause to think this over then shake my head. “But the Corning Comic returned my notebook and was so afraid I’d expose his identity, he even took his website down.”

  “Um … he didn’t.” Leo sucks in a deep breath. “I did.”

  “You?” I choke out.

  Leo lowers his voice, leaning closer to me. “It didn’t seem right what he was doing, hurting people with cruel cartoons. I don’t like bullies. So I shut him down for a few days.”

  “Wow” is all I can say. I know what Leo did was wrong too, but I can’t help but be impressed.

  “Frankie better hurry up,” Leo says, abruptly changing the subject. “I promised to give him a demonstration of FRODO’s olfactory directional ability.”

  I look at Leo’s empty hands. “Where is the smelly robot?”

  “He’s not smelly,” Leo says with an insulted sniff. “FRODO can identify odors better than any human. I left FRODO in Mom’s car. I was going to show Frankie before I helped with the cookies, but he’s too busy transforming actors into jungle animals. Isn’t he great at it? He could really help the CCSC with disguises.”

  “I’m sure he could,” I say with a twinge of guilt because I still don’t want Frankie in our club.

  “I’ll walk with you to the Sparkler booth and talk to Frankie later,” Leo says.

  The Sparkler booth—really just a canopy over three tables and four chairs—is half-hidden beneath a shady oak—not an easy location for customers to find. Becca is the only one there.

  “Finally, some help!” Becca rushes up to us. “Chloe just texted that she won’t be here for an hour—and she has the decorations and face paints.”

  I frown at the two bare tables underneath a plain white canopy. No banners or colorful decorations like the other booths.

  “We may not have fancy decorations to attract customers, but we have something better.” I hold out the boxes in my arms. “ChipTastic cookies!”

  “Yummm. They smell amazing,” Becca says with a happy sniff.

  “I’ll be your first customer.” Leo pulls out a wallet from his pocket. “How much are the cookies?”

  “Five tickets a bag,” Becca says. “But before any cookies are sold, we need to set up the booth.”

  She shows me where I can display the cookies. I arrange them on a rectangular table while Leo hangs the Sparkler banner—the only decoration we have until Chloe shows up—over the top of the booth. Becca sets out chairs and a small table for face painting. I borrow some paper and a pen from another booth to post the price of the cookies. While I’m working, I sneak peeks at my friends, wondering if I should tell them who stole my notebook now or wait till later.

  It’s going to be a shock—and one of them isn’t going to like it. Maybe I should wait till after the fund-raiser or tomorrow … or never.

  This isn’t a secret I can write down in my notebook and keep to myself. I’ve solved a mystery, and they both need to know. Then we need to confront the thief.

  So when we finish arranging the booth and Leo starts to leave to buy tickets, I put my hand on his arm. “Wait,” I say. “Could you sit down? You too, Becca. I need to tell you something important.”

  “What?” they both ask.

  “I know who stole my notebook.” They stare at me with dropping jaws and widening eyes. I rush on before I lose my nerve. “My first suspect was Tyla until I figured out it couldn’t be her. Next I suspected Erik, since he’s the Corning Comic and posted that secret about Sophia. But I wondered why he’d shut down his own website if he had my secrets—unless he never had them” I give Leo a meaningful look. “I realized Sophia’s secret going viral had nothing to do with my notebook.”

  “How else did Erik find out about Sophia?” A crease deepens between Becca’s brows.

  “Mrs. Ross’s assistant, Perrin, probably told him. I think Perrin took that information to the Corning Comic, hoping to get something in return.”

  “So who did steal your notebook?” Becca says.

  This is the hard part. It was easy to suspect Erik since he isn’t a close friend and he had M-O-M: motive, opportunity, and means. But the guilty person is someone close to one of my CCSC friends. I clench my hands together. “The ransomer is—”

  “Ransomer is not a real word,” Leo interrupts.

  “It is for us,” Becca argues. “Shush! Let her finish.”

  “I studied my clues and realized a connection between a photo on my ransom note and a suspect. Also there was an odd smell from the ransom note, and I knew who was guilty.” I look directly at Leo and drop the bomb from my lips. “Frankie.”

  “Absolutely not.” Leo glares. “Frankie had no reason to steal your notebook.”

  “He’s the only one who could have,” I say sadly.

  “You’ve never liked him and are being totally unfair!” Leo’s face reddens with outrage. “You have no proof.”

  “The glue on the ransom note has a weird smell—like hair spray and mouthwash. The same smell that came from the glue on Frankie’s desk. It’s probably some special glue for actors. And one of the magazine photos used for the ransom note had a theater mask symbol on the back—the same symbol I saw backstage.”

  “Frankie did not steal your notebook!” Leo glares at me like I’m his worse enemy. “It could have been anyone in the drama club.”

  “He did it out of revenge,” I insist. “I didn’t vote for him to join our club so he stole my notebook.”

  “He did not!” Leo shouts so loudly that a family passing us stops to stare.

  Becca lowers her voice. “Kelsey could be right.”

  “Not you
too! I’m not going to listen to your lies!” Leo throws up his hands, then storms past the cookie table and out of the booth.

  I jump up to go after him but Becca pulls me back into the chair. “He needs time to cool off.”

  “Leo hates me,” I say with an aching heart.

  “No, he doesn’t, but he won’t believe you without proof.”

  “I don’t know how to prove it, but I’m sure Frankie is guilty. He had opportunity—hanging out with Leo let him know what we were doing. Means—he could easily find out my locker combination. And revenge for keeping him out of the club is a strong motive.”

  “All guesses—not proof,” Becca says, and she’s right.

  But how do I find proof? I puzzle over that. The glue smell and mask photo are good clues but not enough to convince Leo. It would be more convincing if I could find a copy of InbeTWEEN magazine in Frankie’s possession—especially if there are cutout words and pictures. But where would he keep it? His home? Locker? Backstage office?

  Before I can come up with a plan, customers lured by the sweet scent of ChipTastics arrive. While Becca takes tickets, I hand out the cookie bags. Some customers remember Dad from when he worked at Café Belmond. A petite young woman with angel designs on her jacket says she used to stop by Café Belmond for Dad’s croissants. “Your father is a culinary genius!” she raves, then buys ten bags of cookies.

  We’re super busy until Chloe shows up with the decorations and face paints.

  Chloe decorates the booth, then takes over the ticket-collecting so Becca can paint faces. While I hand out cookies, I keep looking through the sea of faces, hoping to see Leo.

  Finally, when sales slow down (probably because the animal fashion show has started), I push away from the table and tell Becca I’m going to look for Leo.

  “He’s probably at the drama club booth,” she says.

  I nod grimly. “With Frankie.”

  But when I get there, I only find Mrs. Ross and some actors in jungle animal costumes. No Frankie or Leo.

  “Excuse me, Mrs. Ross.” I tap her shoulder.

  The teacher’s long snake-like braid whips around as she turns toward me. “I’m kind of busy here, Kelsey.”

  “I’m looking for Frankie and Leo,” I say quickly.

  “They were here about an hour ago. They talked for a while, then suddenly Frankie took off running. He left so fast that he dropped his cap.” She gestures to a table where I see a familiar green cap. “Leo ran after him, and that’s the last I saw of them.”

  Alarm shivers through me. “You don’t know where they are?”

  She shakes her head. “I’ve tried calling Frankie’s cell, but he doesn’t answer. The actors are performing in twenty minutes, and I need Frankie’s help with the costumes.”

  “I’ll go look for them,” I say.

  “Thanks, dear. When you see Frankie, tell him to hurry back. It’s almost time for our first performance. Oh, and give him this.” She hands me the green cap.

  Turning the cap over in my hands, I get a bad feeling. I’ve never seen Frankie without this hat. Holding it tight, I start searching for the boys.

  I start at the entrance and go through aisles, peering in every booth. When I pass the Wild Oaks Sanctuary booth, I see a group of parents with their kids admiring and snapping photos of Albert. The tortoise lifts his head, as if trying to be friendly, but his eyes are sad. I want to go over and comfort him, but I have to find the boys.

  Weaving through the crowded aisles, I swivel my head back and forth, searching.

  No sign of Frankie or Leo anywhere.

  Could they be in the boys’ restroom? But going there could be awkward. Still, it’s the only place I haven’t checked. I wait outside, watching two guys go in and a father with a small son exit. When the two guys come out moments later, I’m sure no one is inside—unless Frankie and Leo went in there to talk privately.

  I bite my lip and wonder, One little peek can’t hurt … Right?

  I glance around to make sure no one is watching, then cautiously open the door. “Uh … Frankie? Leo? Are you here?”

  A deep adult voice calls back, “No!”

  I slam the door fast and run away.

  With my hands on my hips, I look around all the booths, growing worried. Where are those boys? I remember Leo saying he wanted to show Frankie his smelling robot. Of course. With renewed hope, I head for the parking lot. It’s so crowded that some cars are parked on the dirt. I go up and down the rows of vehicles, looking into every vehicle.

  Still no Leo or Frankie.

  Could they have returned to the drama club booth? I start back but stop when I hear a shout. I turn and there’s Leo, running toward me.

  “Leo!” I’m so happy to see him that I throw my arms around him—until I realize that I’m hugging a boy. I jump back. My face burns hot with embarrassment.

  Leo’s face is red too, but probably because he’s been running.

  “Have you seen Frankie?” he asks me in a rush.

  “I was going to ask you the same thing.”

  Leo’s blond hair is mussed, sweat drips from his forehead, and there’s dirt on his black slacks. “I’ve lost Frankie.”

  “What happened?” I ask.

  “He wanted to know why I was angry at you and Becca, so I told him the truth.” Leo’s shoulders slump. “I expected him to get angry and say you were wrong—but he didn’t. Instead he looked scared and then ran from me … like a guilty person. I chased after him through the aisles, but when he headed up for the bluff path, I lost him. I must have hiked the trails for an hour, calling his name and looking everywhere. But there are too many trails, and I couldn’t see much through the dense trees. Finally, I turned around and came here.”

  “Why the parking lot?” I ask, glancing around.

  “Mom’s car is here.” He walks to a cream-colored Sorento and pulls a key from his pocket.

  “You can’t drive,” I say.

  “Actually I can, but I’m beneath the age limit and a car can’t go where I’m going.” He pops open the car trunk. “Frankie is somewhere in those trees, and FRODO will lead me to him.”

  - Chapter 23 -

  Follow That Smell!

  “Will this help?” I show Leo the green cap Mrs. Ross gave me.

  “Frankie’s hat! Thanks. His scent will be strong on this.’ Leo tucks it and FRODO under his arm and hurries toward the hill.

  “Wait!” I grab him by the arm.

  He shakes me off. “I have to find Frankie.”

  “Not alone. I’m going with you.”

  “But you don’t even like him.”

  “I don’t dislike him—I just don’t trust him. Besides, he’s your friend and I want to help you find him.” I glance back at the colorful tents and crowds. “We should let someone know where we’re going in case we get lost.”

  “It’s impossible to get lost with FRODO to guide us.”

  The parking lot rises below the park and a path leads high into hills, mostly to walking trails leading to a cliff overlooking the river.

  “What will you do with Frankie’s cap?” I hurry to keep in step with Leo as he heads up the hill where weeds and trees thicken into eerie shadows.

  “FRODO will follow the scent, starting from where I lost Frankie’s trail.”

  “Why not wait for Frankie to return on his own?”

  “He should have come back by now. Frankie knew the drama group was going to perform soon. He wouldn’t have abandoned them.”

  “You never know how someone will react when they’re upset,” I point out. “I’m sorry I was right about him.”

  “Why would he steal your notebook?” Leo pauses to catch his breath. “It’s illogical. He told me he likes you.”

  “Even though I wouldn’t vote him into our club?”

  “He doesn’t know. I hoped you’d change your mind so I only told him the requirements for new members.”

  “Oh.” Now I really feel guilty. “I guess we’ll f
ind out his motive when we find him.”

  “If we find him.” Leo worries as we climb a trail into shadowed trees. “I have a bad feeling.”

  To hear Leo say this shoots a jolt of fear through me. Leo operates on facts, not emotions. And I get a bad feeling too.

  We follow the main path, which is well traveled and smooth. Just as I spot the fork in the path he told me about, I hear the sound of footsteps pounding behind us. Leo hears it too, because he stops, hope rising on his face.

  “Frankie?” he calls as he whirls around.

  Wrong, I think, seeing Becca approach. She’s out of breath, her face reddened from running.

  “I saw you running up here and hurried to catch up. What’s going on?” Becca bends over slightly, resting with her arms balanced on her knees. “I wasn’t sure I could catch up with you. I want to help look for Frankie.”

  “Great,” Leo says. Then he lifts his hand in the CCSC signal.

  Becca and I make the hand signal too, and then we bump fists. I smile at my club mates. Solving mysteries is better with friends.

  Leo leads the way, slowing only when we reach a fork in the path. Three trails branch out—right, left, and straight ahead for the cliffs. But the narrow cliff trail looks like it was made for animals, not humans, and disappears into rising boulders. Unfortunately, this is the trail Leo takes. We follow, ducking under prickly branches and climbing rough boulders, until we reach a plateau of rock.

  “This is where I lost him,” Leo says.

  He sets FRODO down, clicks buttons on the remote, then presses the green cap to FRODO’s sensors (which look like eyeballs).

  A colored button flashes green and an arrow points straight ahead—where there’s no path. When I look closer, I see trampled grass and a broken branch.

  “Follow FRODO,” Leo says.

  And we do.

  We wind through trees, turning right and left, and pushing away thick bushes. We’re so high now that I can hear the rush from the river far below the cliffs. Kids are warned to stay away from Sun River and told that if the undercurrents don’t drag you down, the chilly water will freeze you to death.

  “He has to be up ahead,” Leo says, pointing to dense trees. “Unless he doubled back, he must be beyond those trees.”