“Sounds lovely.”
Mom sat down, while I sat to her left. Michael sat down next to Shelby without even a glance in our direction.
“Michael,” Mrs. Holmes said as she placed a napkin in her lap, “please say hello to Dr. Watson.”
“Hello to Dr. Watson,” he echoed in a monotone voice.
An awkward silence fell as we passed the various dishes around the table.
“So,” Mom began, always attempting to make the best out of any situation no matter how awkward it might be, “what grade are you going into, Michael?”
“I commence my studies at Columbia University in two weeks,” he replied while never taking his eyes off the roll he was buttering.
“Really? How old are you?”
“Sixteen.”
“That’s quite impressive.”
Michael snorted. “Well, I can’t think of anything more torturous than high school.”
“I can,” Shelby replied with a delighted snicker.
“Shelby.” Mrs. Holmes gave a warning nudge to her daughter.
“So, John!” Mr. Holmes decided to put the attention on me. “What grade are you going into?”
“He’s—” Shelby started to reply before her dad cut her off.
“Now, now, Shelby. It’s polite to let people answer questions about themselves. We all know about your talents, but I would like to hear from John.”
Shelby slumped back in her chair and began gnawing on a drumstick.
Did that really work? Was it possible for Shelby Holmes to be tamed?
Mr. Holmes shook his head. “You know how it is, Janice, with kids. They think they know everything. But what are you going to do? Kids will be kids!” He laughed and my mom gave him a polite smile.
Ah, no. Shelby and Michael were not kids being kids. And I was pretty certain Shelby did know everything (well, except about basketball). But you had to hand it to Mr. Holmes for at least trying to discipline Shelby. That couldn’t be easy. (Which may be the biggest understatement of all time.)
Over the course of the meal, Mom, Mr. and Mrs. Holmes, and I talked about a bunch of things: army posts, Harlem, the Academy, and Columbia University. Shelby and Michael stayed eerily silent, barely looking up from their food. They both seemed put out that their parents were so inquisitive.
“Michael, why don’t you clear the dishes so we can serve the delicious pie that Dr. Watson has brought?” Mr. Holmes suggested. Shelby perked up once pie was mentioned. “Shelby, you haven’t eaten a single one of your green beans.”
(Okay, so this was the one instance when Shelby really was a kid being a kid, even if it was something as predictable as not wanting to eat your vegetables.)
Shelby used her fork to move around the green beans on her plate. “Because green beans are an affront to the culinary arts.”
(Never mind, no kid would ever talk like that.)
“Now, young lady, we’ll have none of that. No dessert unless you finish your vegetables.”
I pinched my lips together to avoid laughing. Shelby always acted above everything. Even though she was tiny, I had to keep reminding myself that she was only nine. But now, faced with a plate of green beans, she was finally acting her age.
It was kind of refreshing.
Shelby sulked for a couple minutes before taking her fork and spearing every single green bean on her plate. She then shoved the whole thing into her mouth while plugging her nose.
Scratch that—she was acting waaay younger than her age. (And it was hysterical.)
“Shelby!” Her mom reprimanded her as bits of green bean were falling from Shelby’s open mouth and back onto the plate.
Shelby replied with an overfull mouth. I wasn’t sure what she was saying, but I think it was along the lines of “I’m doing what I’m told.”
Michael stood over his sister, waiting for her plate to be cleaned before he finally, mercifully, took it away.
Shelby’s entire focus was on the pie, as mom began to cut it. Once a slice was placed in front of her, she dived greedily in. However, the second she took a bite, her eyes became wide and she spit the contents out onto her plate.
“Shelby!” her parents scolded in unison, while Michael burst into laughter, his first display of emotion all night.
“How absurdly foolish of me!” Shelby replied quickly, and then began to giggle embarrassingly. “I’ve been so distracted by my case I didn’t stop to think that you’d be bringing a sugar-free pie, Dr. Watson. My apologies. This was my reckless mistake.” She reached into the center of the table and took the sugar and dumped nearly the entire container onto her plate before picking up her fork and diving right back in.
Mom was rendered speechless while Mr. and Mrs. Holmes appeared to be horrified. I had to cut them some slack. They had to raise Shelby. I couldn’t imagine living with someone who could analyze your every move. It must’ve been exhausting.
“Shelby, did you say that you have a case?” Mom asked, once she fully recovered.
“Yes, I’m a detective.”
“I’m sure the cops can sleep at night knowing Shelby Holmes is on the case,” Michael said snidely.
“At least I contribute to society,” Shelby replied defensively.
“Oh no!” Michael appeared to be scandalized. “Was there a library book that had been shelved out of order?”
“Amateur,” Shelby said under her breath. “Mother and Father, I was thinking it would be utterly delightful if I could enter Sir Arthur into a dog show on Saturday. I figured it would be something different for me to do. My friend from school is also entering her dog. What do you think?”
“Really?” Mr. Holmes exchanged an excited glance with his wife. “I think it would be splendid for you to do that. And with a friend? Well done, Shelby!”
“Great!” She pulled out a piece of paper from her dress. “I need you to sign the registration form.”
“Oh, well, we can do it later. After all, we have guests.”
“It will only take a second.” Shelby produced a pen and slid the paper under her mother’s hand, keeping her hand placed firmly on the top of the paper.
“Well, I suppose,” her mom said as she signed the form. “It’s nice to see you take interest in something outside of sleuthing.”
I tried to make eye contact with Shelby to get a sense of what she was up to. She might have thought I didn’t know a lot, but I knew having Sir Arthur be part of the competition had everything to do with sleuthing.
Later that evening, Mom knocked on my door as I was writing in my journal. After months of not being able to write, my hand could hardly keep up with everything I had to say.
“Thanks again for unpacking all those boxes,” Mom said as she sat next to me on my bed. “I’m sorry that I haven’t been able to help that much. I’m looking forward to a weekend off to hang out with my son.” She rested her head against mine. “I can see why you like hanging out with Shelby. She’s something else, huh?”
“No kidding.” We both laughed a little.
“What are these ‘cases’ that Shelby works on?”
“Cases?” I played dumb. “What do you mean, cases?”
Mom narrowed her eyes. She knew when I was keeping something from her. “Shelby mentioned she was a detective working on a case at dinner. According to Mrs. Hudson, she’s apparently pretty good. I shouldn’t be surprised with the reception she gets in the neighborhood.”
“Yeah, I guess,” I conceded.
“I know you haven’t met that many people yet, but you will. I’m glad you’ve made a friend in Shelby, but I don’t want you getting involved in any of these cases. It’s never a good idea to stick your nose into other people’s business.”
Too late.
CHAPTER
16
There was a loud banging on our front door the following morning. When I looked through the peephole, I was a little surprised to see who was on the other side.
“Hey, Shelby!”
“I tho
ught I would come get you so as not to inconvenience you with waiting for me outside.” While she spoke with her usual attitude, she was scratching the back of her leg with her foot.
No way! Was Shelby nervous? She sure seemed it. I mean, she was being nice to me, so she had to be uncomfortable. I didn’t want her to feel more self-conscious, so I didn’t comment on her odd (yet totally welcomed) behavior. She wanted me to come along. This time.
“We’re going to leave for the Lacys’ now?” I asked.
“We require a quick detour first. I need to converse with a contact.”
It was the first time she used we. Maybe my security footage idea yesterday made her finally realize how helpful I could be.
“Yeah, let me change.” I ran into my room and put on my favorite outfit for playing basketball, just in case Zane wanted to play a game later.
As I walked back into the living room, Shelby gave me a quick once-over. “Don’t you look rather sporting.”
“Thanks!” I said as I looked down at my mesh shorts and army tee.
“And you think I’m the one with the crush on Zane,” she said with a snort.
We started walking uptown several blocks in silence. She turned us west, farther away from the busy avenues.
“So do you think Zareen or the trainer did it? The dog show’s tomorrow,” I reminded her, not like she needed it.
“I have my theories,” she replied with a curl of the lips.
“Would you care to share them?”
“Not at the moment. I still need to work a few things out. I’m hoping that once I study the surveillance footage things will start to clear up.”
“But security already looked at it.”
“True, but I haven’t been able to observe it. I need to figure out how Daisy got away. Security only said they didn’t see Daisy in the footage. I’m looking for something else.”
“What?”
“That has yet to be determined.”
Even though she wanted me here, she wasn’t being very open about what she knew or what she was planning. However, after watching Shelby force her mom to sign that paper last night to get Sir Arthur in the dog show, I knew she had something up her sleeve.
“What aren’t you telling me?”
“About what?”
“About the dog show tomorrow.” I decided to give her a taste of her own medicine. “I noticed when you gave your mom the registration form, you didn’t simply hand it to her. You slid it with your hand covering the top part.” I searched my brain for what that could’ve meant. She didn’t want her mom to see the top … where you usually have to fill out your personal information. “So I’m guessing either you put a different name on the form or a fake address.”
Shelby stopped in her tracks. “Well done, Watson!”
It was a miracle! I received an actual compliment from Shelby!
“There may be hope for you yet!”
And then she had to continue talking.
“So whose name did you put on there?” I asked.
“Well, there’s where you come in, Watson. You seem to want to be involved in the case, so I have a task for you.”
“Really?” I was excited I’d finally gained her trust.
“If the unforeseen happens and I can’t locate Daisy before tomorrow morning, I will need you to do the very simple task of bringing Sir Arthur to the dog show while I continue to suss out potential suspects. It’s important for both of us to have backstage access, but that’s only on the off chance that I haven’t recovered Daisy by the end of the day.”
So basically, she wanted me to walk her dog. Guess I still had a ways to go before she’d consider me essential.
“Why didn’t you simply forge the signature?”
“I apprehend criminals. I’m not one of them.”
She might not be a criminal, but she had no problem lying to her parents.
“So my name’s at the top?”
“Heavens no. I gave you an alias since all of Sir Arthur’s papers are in my family’s name. Tomorrow you’ll be Sheldon Holmes.”
“Sheldon?”
“Yes, by your tone, I take it you would’ve preferred a different moniker?”
While I like the name John just fine, as Shelby had already pointed out, so many people have that name. Zane was such an unusual name it stood out. If I was going undercover, I wanted a name like that.
“Why couldn’t you have given me something cooler, like Shane or Spencer or Silas?” My mind blanked at more names. Okay, maybe coming up with names was harder than I thought. “Or, I don’t know … Sherlock.”
“Sherlock?” Shelby scoffed. “What kind of name is Sherlock? You wanted to go undercover as Sherlock Holmes? Like anybody would believe that.”
I ignored Shelby’s snickering. Instead, I tried to remember every turn we’d taken so I could start getting around on my own. While I wanted to be here, having Shelby as a tour guide really grated on my self-esteem.
At first, we passed apartment complexes, but we were now walking by buildings that were abandoned and boarded up. The streets were mostly empty, except for the occasional homeless person. I began to get jittery whenever a horn or alarm went off. I practically jumped out of my skin when glass from a broken window shattered near us. What kind of contact did Shelby have who would live here?
“Ah, Shelby,” I said as a rat scurried away from an empty lot that was filled with garbage. “This doesn’t seem very safe.”
“Oh, I would advise that you never come here alone. This isn’t a very desirable part of town.”
Then what were we doing there? And why did Shelby feel that she was invincible?
“Don’t worry, Watson. We’re almost there.”
Oddly enough, that didn’t make me feel better. I wanted to turn around and go back to our safe street. Or better yet, the Lacys’, which seemed like a million miles away from here instead of just a few.
A young guy, probably around sixteen, turned the corner. The second he spotted us, his eyes narrowed and a menacing grin appeared on his face. “Hold up.” He walked over with a swagger. His jeans were hanging low on his hips; his Yankees cap sat crooked on his head. “What do you think you’re doing here?”
Shelby wisely ignored him and kept walking.
“Yo! I’m talking to you!” He jumped in front of us.
My stomach filled with butterflies. I was used to military posts where only authorized personnel were allowed. I never had to worry about being mugged or whatever this guy was going to do. But Shelby didn’t seem fazed.
Shelby sighed. “If you must know, I’m here to speak with Dante. You may escort us there if you feel the need. However, I am more than capable of making the journey unaccompanied.”
The guy started laughing. “Oh, you think you’ve got some business with Dante?” Much to my dread, he turned to me. “And what about you? You some mute or something?”
My manly response was a terrified stare.
“You must be new,” Shelby declared, then gave the guy a quick once-over.
Uh-oh. She was going to do that Shelby thing she did, and I had a feeling this guy was not going to appreciate it. If only I could’ve found my voice, or stopped my legs from shaking so I could’ve run away. I’m a pretty fast runner, and I bet this guy wouldn’t have gotten very far before his pants fell down. But I didn’t want to leave Shelby alone. As much as she was under the impression that she could take care of herself, I wasn’t so sure.
Shelby began while I held my breath. “While I admire your attempt to get away from your white-collar roots, I can see through your act. Why don’t you put your expensive shoes that your Wall Street banker father bought to use and walk away? Or does Dante not know that you only play dress-up during the summer and weekends when you don’t have to attend your all-boys academy?”
The guy looked like he was going to be sick. “Who do you think you are?” he asked with his chin held high, but there was a waver in his voice.
“Someo
ne who’s finished having this conversation. Come on, Watson.” Shelby sidestepped the guy and turned the corner, where there was a group of five other teens sitting on a park bench across the street, all of them bearing a resemblance to the guy we just left.
Great. Now we were in even bigger trouble. Shelby proved that she could handle one bully, but five?
“Why, if it isn’t the great Shelby Holmes!” The guy in the center stood up as we approached. My jaw practically hit the floor. This guy not only knew Shelby, he looked happy to see her. “What’s happening, World’s Smallest Detective?” He held out his fist for Shelby to bump. After it was clear she was not going to appease him, he put it down.
“I need some information, Dante.”
“Anything for you, Shelby.” He turned to his companions, who seemed as perplexed as I was. “This little girl may be the smartest person you dudes will ever come across—she got me out of a jam a few months back. You see her around, you take good care of her. Am I clear?”
The group all gave Shelby a nod of respect.
Dante motioned over to me. “You got muscle now? Smart move, girl—you sure do make some enemies.”
This guy was pretty smart.
“Dante, this is John Watson. He has moved into my building, and I’m showing him around.”
Dante laughed. “These parts aren’t usually on the tourist maps. Listen, John Watson, you need anything, you come to me, okay? Any friend of Shelby’s is a friend of mine. Maybe in a few years, when you get a little older, you can come work for me.”
I had no idea what this guy did, but I was fairly positive it was something that Mom would’ve had a huge problem with. I didn’t want to be rude to one of Shelby’s contacts, but I also didn’t want to agree to a potential life in crime.
What had Shelby gotten us into?
“I don’t think so, Dante.” Shelby wagged her finger at him. “John Watson is going to be an accomplished writer, not a thug.”
A chorus of ooohs came from the group. I highly doubted many people talked to Dante like that and got away with it, but he responded by laughing.
“What’s this info you need?”
“Do you know if there’s betting going on for the Manhattan Kennel Club Dog Show tomorrow—specifically, have there been any rumblings of someone trying to fix the toy breed competition?”
The Great Shelby Holmes Page 8
