Camp Club Girls: Elizabeth

by Brumbaugh Green, Renae;

  “Mary-Lynn…Monroe?” asked Sydney. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

  “Yeah, but I think she’s too much of a space brain to have stolen the guitar. All she cares about is whether or not the agents notice her,” Bailey added.

  “I wouldn’t write her off too quickly,” said McKenzie. “It could be an act. Besides, she’s your only suspect at this point.”

  “Uh…no she’s not,” said Elizabeth.

  “What do you mean?” asked Bailey and Kristi together.

  “Our teacher. Robert. I saw his hair when he adjusted his cap,” she told them.

  Kristi’s face went pale. “You mean…”

  “Red,” Elizabeth confirmed. “But that doesn’t mean he’s guilty, just like it doesn’t mean Mary-Lynn’s guilty. Lots of people have red hair.”

  “Maybe not, but at least we have a couple of suspects,” said Kate. “Kristi, get us that list as soon as possible, and we’ll get to work.”

  “I thought of something else,” said Sydney. “You said your dad is some kind of country music legend. Does he have a fan club?”

  “Yes, he does. I’ll email you the website. Why?”

  “If a fan knew you were selling his guitar, he or she might have decided to take it,” Sydney answered.

  “Yes, but his old record company maintains the website. I wouldn’t have any idea of how to find out who his fans are,” Kristi said.

  “Not a problem,” Kate said with a chuckle. “Give me the web address. I’ll do the rest. I can do a deep web search, and cross-reference the referring data, and use that to determine the email addresses of the site’s visitors.”

  “You can…what?” asked Kristi.

  “Don’t question it,” said McKenzie with a laugh. “None of us knows how Kate does it, but she can find anything on the internet. Nothing is safe from her!”

  “Oh…okay,” said Kristi.

  The girls heard a knock on the door.

  “Who is it?” Bailey called out.

  “It’s Mary-Lynn. Is Kristi in there?”

  The three girls in the room looked at each other, wide-eyed. “Uh, girls, one of our suspects is here. We’ve gotta go!” Elizabeth said quietly.

  “Okay. Work on that list, Kristi!” said Kate. The girls said goodbye, and Elizabeth shut her laptop and slid it under her bed. Bailey opened the door.

  “Hi, Mary-Lynn. Come in,” Bailey told her. “Yes, Kristi is here.” Kristi gave a half smile and waved at her roommate.

  “There you are! I’ve been looking all over for you. What are y’all doing?” the girl asked.

  “Oh, not much. What have you been up to?” Elizabeth asked. She had a feeling that with one question about herself, Mary-Lynn would talk for hours.

  “I went to the costume design class, and ended up staying and talking to the teacher. She liked my skirt, and asked where I got it!” Mary-Lynn giggled, fingering the sequined fabric.

  “Where did you get it?” Bailey asked.

  “I made it!” Mary-Lynn exclaimed.

  “You made that?” the other three girls said in unison.

  “Yes. I make all my clothes. Have you seen the prices of those fancy costumes all the big names wear? One day, when I’m famous, I’ll have my own designer. But until then, if I want to look the part, I have to make my own stuff.” Then, as an afterthought, she said, “My mom is a seamstress, and I’ve been sewing since I was a little bitty girl.”

  Elizabeth stood up and examined Mary-Lynn’s outfit, turning the girl as if she were a mannequin. “Mary-Lynn, I would have never guessed. You are very talented.”

  Mary-Lynn laughed. “Oh, anybody can sew, if they just take the time to learn. It’s fun, though. I like taking a plain piece of fabric and turning it into something fabulous. I do hair and make-up. I’d be glad to give you all makeovers if you’d like. Especially you, Elizabeth! Why, if we put some lipstick and blush on you, and teased your hair out a little, I’ll bet—”

  “Uh, no thanks. I’m good with how I look. But maybe you should think about being a costume designer or a make-up artist instead of a performer,” Elizabeth suggested.

  “Bite your tongue!” said the girl. “And please don’t tell anyone that I make my own clothes. Well, except…I did tell the costume design teacher. Still, I want the agents and talent scouts to think I’ve already made it big, which is why I’m trying to dress the part. No one needs to know I’m too poor to buy my own costumes.”

  “None of the participants here have ‘made it big,’ Mary-Lynn. That’s why we’re here,” said Bailey.

  “Well, not all of us have famous fathers to pave the way for us,” Mary-Lynn flashed a look at Kristi.

  The room fell silent. Kristi’s face held a mixture of shock and anger. Finally, she said, “What is that supposed to mean?”

  Mary-Lynn looked uncomfortable. “Oh, nothing. I don’t know why I said that.”

  “What do you know about my father?” Kristi pressed her.

  “What makes you think I was talking about your father? I could have been talking about anyone,” the girl said as she played with her skirt.

  “Mary-Lynn, Kristi is the only one in this room with a famous father. If she didn’t tell you about him, we’d like to know who did,” Bailey demanded.

  Mary-Lynn sighed and flopped down on the bed. “I looked him up on the internet, okay? When I received the letter telling me who my roommate was going to be, I wanted to know more about you, and I googled your name. I wanted to see if you were already famous. Sure enough, your road to fame has already been paved by your dear old dad!”

  Kristi’s face turned pale, and she ran from the room. Bailey went after her.

  Elizabeth didn’t know what to do. “Mary-Lynn, that was a horrible thing to say.”

  “Why? It’s the truth, isn’t it? As soon as I googled her name, all sorts of links came up. ‘Kristi Conrad, daughter of legendary songwriter and guitarist, Joshua Conrad’.”

  “Mary-Lynn, did you take the time to follow any of those links and read about him?”

  “I read enough. He’s famous, and she’s got it made. That’s all I needed to know,” said the girl.

  “Then surely you read that Joshua Conrad was diagnosed with multiple sclerosis several years ago. He’s lost his ability to play. He hasn’t performed in three years,” Elizabeth told her.

  It was Mary-Lynn’s turn to look shocked.

  “I had no idea,” she said. “Gosh. I feel terrible.”

  Elizabeth wanted to tell Mary-Lynn that she should feel terrible. She wondered if the girl was really sincere, but decided to give her the benefit of the doubt. Besides, she didn’t want to alienate one of their prime suspects by making her angry.

  “Perhaps you could apologize,” Elizabeth suggested.

  “Yeah, I suppose I should. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I just want my big break so badly that I guess I don’t think about how I must sound to other people. She’ll probably never speak to me again,” Mary-Lynn said.

  “Oh, I don’t know about that,” Elizabeth told her. “Let’s go find her.”

  Hesitantly, Mary-Lynn followed Elizabeth out the door, down the hall, and to her own room. Elizabeth knocked lightly on the door. “Kristi? Are you in there?”

  Bailey cracked the door open and peered out.

  “I think Mary-Lynn wants to apologize,” Elizabeth told her.

  Bailey stood back and held the door open. Inside, Kristi was sitting on her bed, pencil and notepad in hand, scrawling away at another song.

  Mary-Lynn stepped hesitantly into the room. “Um,…Kristi?”

  Kristi held her hand up the same way she had when Elizabeth and Bailey had first met her on the outdoor pathway.

  Mary-Lynn stood awkwardly, not knowing what to do or say. After a moment, Kristi raised her head to look at her roommate, but said nothing.

  “I…uh…I’m sorry. I didn’t know your dad was sick. I just googled your name and saw all sorts of links pop up, and I got a little
jealous. I don’t know a soul in this business, and I just wished I had your connections. I’m sorry.”

  Kristi gave a tentative smile. “You know, just because a person is successful or famous doesn’t mean they have it made,” she said. “People are just people. We all have our problems, and getting famous doesn’t make those problems go away.”

  Mary-Lynn sat down on her bed, her skirt flaring around her. “Since I was a little girl, I’ve wanted to be onstage. I’ve wanted to be noticed, to be the center of attention. I guess I just figured if I were famous, my life would be perfect.”

  Elizabeth sat down next to Mary-Lynn. “No one’s life is perfect, Mary-Lynn. We all just have to learn to be content with where we are right now, don’t you think?”

  Mary-Lynn looked at her blankly. “All I know is I’m going to be famous someday,” she said.

  The other three fell silent. Finally, Elizabeth said, “I hope all your dreams come true. In the meantime, we need to get some sleep. Bailey, are you ready to go?”

  “Yep,” Bailey answered. “I guess we’ll see you both in the morning.”

  Kristi cast them a wistful glance, and Elizabeth knew she wasn’t thrilled that she had to stay there with Mary-Lynn.

  “Good night,” Elizabeth called as she shut the door.

  As soon as they were in their own room, Bailey said, “Miss Priss down there is so guilty I can smell it.”

  “What makes you so sure?” Elizabeth asked.

  “Isn’t it obvious? She is so shallow. All she thinks about is being famous. All she talks about is wanting to be discovered. She almost reminds me of—”

  Elizabeth giggled.

  “What?” Bailey asked.

  “Oh, nothing. It’s just that I know someone else who really wants to be famous.…A really good friend of mine, as a matter of fact.”

  Bailey grew quiet. Finally she said, “I’m not like her, am I?”

  Elizabeth smiled. “No, of course you’re not. Not really.”

  Bailey flopped down on her bed. “Yes I am! I’m just like Miss Priss over there, wanting to be famous. Oh my word! This is terrible!”

  Elizabeth couldn’t help but laugh. “Well yes, you are, at times, preoccupied with becoming famous. But you’re also kind and thoughtful and a good friend. I didn’t mean to imply that you’re like Mary-Lynn.”

  “I sure hope not. Because that girl is guilty.”

  Suddenly, there was a loud knocking at the door.

  “Who could that be?” asked Elizabeth. “At this rate, we’re never going to get any sleep!”

  Flying Hairs

  “Who is it?” Bailey called through the locked door.

  “It’s Kristi. Let me in,” came a hushed voice.

  Bailey unlocked the door, and Kristi pushed her way in, closing the door behind her. She was carrying her duffel bag.

  “I can’t sleep in the same room as the person who stole my dad’s guitar,” she said.

  Elizabeth motioned for Kristi to sit on her bed. “We were just about to put our pajamas on. You’re welcome to spend the night here,” she offered.

  “Thanks,” replied Kristi. “I was hoping you’d say that.”

  Elizabeth was glad to share her room, but something was unsettling about this whole situation. She wasn’t that fond of Mary-Lynn either, but she wasn’t sure the girl was a thief. “You know, Kristi, I’m not sure Mary-Lynn stole your guitar.”

  Kristi’s eyes widened. “You’ve got to be kidding! She has red hair. And she admitted she was jealous of me. She sees me as her competition.”

  “Maybe so. But how would she have known you had the guitar in your trunk?” Elizabeth asked her. “Mary-Lynn may be annoying and self-centered, but she seems pretty clueless.”

  “I don’t know…” said Kristi.

  “And why would Mary-Lynn have a VIP ticket to the Country Music Hall of Fame? She said herself she doesn’t have any connections,” Elizabeth said.

  Bailey was looking down as she listened. Suddenly she began pulling something off her dark sweater. “Elizabeth, remind me next time I room with you not to wear dark colors.”

  “What do you mean?” asked Elizabeth, confused at the odd statement.

  “I’ve got your long blond hairs all over my sweater,” Bailey said, holding up a strand. “They must just fly through the room.”

  “Oh, sorry,” Elizabeth laughed. “Yeah, my dad is always complaining about my hair getting on his shirts. I guess I just have too much of it!”

  The girls chuckled at Bailey’s comical face as she searched her sweater for more blond hair.

  But then, Kristi and Elizabeth looked at each other. Were they thinking the same thing?

  “Bailey,” Elizabeth asked. “What if my hair were on your sweater, and you brushed against someone else. Do you suppose my hair could end up on someone else’s sweater? Someone I’ve never even had contact with?”

  “I guess so. Why do you—” Bailey stopped midsentence. “Oh! I get it! The thief may not have had red hair at all. The thief might have just come in contact with a redhead. Then, when the guitar case was open, the hair could have fallen into the case!”

  The three girls let the thought soak in.

  Finally, Kristi stood. “You’re right. Mary-Lynn may not be guilty at all. It’s unfair of us to decide she’s guilty when we don’t have real proof.” She grabbed her duffel bag. “I guess I should go back to my room.”

  Bailey let out a frustrated sigh. “Well, this theory puts us back to square one. If we aren’t sure the villain has red hair, where do we start?”

  “We start with this,” Kristi said, digging through her bag and holding out a list. “These are the names of the people I contacted about buying Dad’s guitar.”

  Early the next morning, Bailey read off the names and phone numbers of the people on the list as Elizabeth typed them into an email. A dozen or so names were on the list, so it would be plenty to keep the Camp Club Girls busy with research. After the last name was typed in, Elizabeth pressed SEND and leaned back to look at Bailey.

  “How soon do you think we’ll hear something?” asked Bailey.

  “Knowing Kate, probably within the next few minutes. Unless she’s still asleep.”

  “Tell me more about this songwriting teacher. Was there anything suspicious about him?” asked Bailey.

  Elizabeth thought about the young teacher with the ball cap. “It’s hard to say. He did know exactly who Kristi’s dad was, and he seemed to kind of study her. But that doesn’t mean he’s a thief.”

  “It doesn’t mean he’s not a thief either,” said Bailey. “Right now, everyone is a suspect. I say we tail the guy, see what he’s up to.”

  “That’s not a bad idea,” said Elizabeth. “I want to take another of his classes, anyway. What do you say we see what Kristi is up to, and then get some breakfast?”

  “Sounds good,” said Bailey. She ran a brush through her hair, and then tossed the brush on the counter. “Let’s go.”

  Kristi and Mary-Lynn were just locking their door behind them when Bailey and Elizabeth stepped into the hallway.

  “Perfect timing!” Mary-Lynn said.

  “How did you sleep?” Elizabeth asked, looking at Kristi.

  Kristi looked at Mary-Lynn, who laughed. “We didn’t sleep much at all. After Kristi came back from your room, we talked until after midnight!”

  Kristi smiled. “Yeah. She’s a great roommate!”

  Elizabeth was thrilled to see a friendship developing between the two older girls. Bailey, on the other hand, seemed suspicious.

  “What did you talk about?” Bailey asked.

  “Oh, everything under the sun. And guess what? Mary-Lynn’s uncle is a detective. She said she’s learned a few tips from him over the years,” Kristi told them.

  Mary-Lynn laughed. “Oh, I don’t know anything that can help you catch your thief. But if I’m ever kidnapped, I think I’ll be able to escape. He taught me a few self-defense moves.”

 
Elizabeth laughed. “Well, hopefully we won’t need that information!”

  “I don’t know,” said Bailey. “It’s always good to know how to protect yourself! Show us some moves, Mary-Lynn.”

  And so, on the way to breakfast, Mary-Lynn moved herself off the suspect list and onto the friend list. She showed them a few kicks and jabs, but also told them the importance of drawing attention to yourself.

  “It doesn’t matter if they tell you to keep quiet. You yell, kick, and scream. In a restaurant, write a note on a napkin and give to the waitress. In a bathroom, leave a message scratched onto the wall. If you’re in a car, bang on the window. And if you’re ever locked in a car trunk, kick out the taillights and stick your hand through, so the driver behind you will see you.”

  “Wow, Mary-Lynn! Your uncle taught you some great stuff. But as I said, hopefully we’ll never have to use that information,” said Elizabeth.

  “Better to know it and not need it than the other way around,” said Kristi, and the others agreed.

  The girls arrived at a busy dining hall. After filling their trays, they scanned the room for a place to sit. They saw an empty table near the far corner, next to a window, and they headed that way.

  Elizabeth nodded at her teacher, Robert, who sat alone in the corner. This time, he wasn’t wearing his hat. After saying a prayer, Bailey kicked Elizabeth under the table.

  “Is that your teacher?” she whispered.

  Kristi and Elizabeth nodded.

  “He doesn’t look very old,” Bailey continued. “I would have thought he was one of the students here,” she said.

  “He’s a songwriter for one of the big record companies,” Elizabeth said.

  “Yeah,” Kristi said. “I’ll bet he doesn’t get paid much either. My dad started as a staff songwriter, and he said he barely made enough money to live on.”

  “That’s strange. I would think a famous songwriter would make tons of money,” Bailey remarked, looking over her shoulder at the young man. He seemed absorbed in the newspaper that was lying across the table, next to his plate.

  Kristi laughed. “If you write a hit song, then yeah, you’d make some good money. But do you have any idea how many people come to Nashville to record? And they all want original songs. And 99 percent of them never achieve any real success. Still, the record companies like to keep a steady supply of original songs for new artists, in hopes one of them will be a hit.”