Problems were exactly what Shannon and Kristy had when they first met. When Kristy moved into her stepfather’s mansion, she thought Shannon, her new across-the-street neighbor, was an awful snob. Shannon didn’t think much of Kristy, either. But they worked things out. We’re all friends with Shannon now.
Like Logan, Shannon leads a busy life. She goes to a private school, Stoneybrook Day School (where she has to wear a uniform!). She’s in the honor society, is vice-president of the Astronomy Club (as well as the only eighth-grader in it), is a member of the French Club and the debate team, had a lead role in the school play, and occasionally thinks about trying to fit the Spanish Club into her schedule. And she makes good grades.
Shannon has thick, curly blonde hair, pale skin, blue eyes, and high cheekbones. She always wears mascara but otherwise she’s not really into makeup. She likes music too, and she and Abby’s twin sister, Anna (who plays the violin and is in the SMS orchestra), have become friends.
So that’s the BSC. It was pretty rare for all ten of us to be at a meeting, and I remember thinking that somebody ought to take a photograph. But before I could say anything, there was a tap on Claudia’s bedroom door.
Claudia opened the door. Janine, Claudia’s older sister, stood there. What she was wearing looked almost like Shannon’s school uniform, and I was amazed all over again that two such different people could be sisters.
“Mrs. McGill has arrived to provide transportation to the train, I believe,” Janine said.
“New York, here we come!” cried Claudia.
Janine raised her eyebrows. “Have a nice trip,” she said, walking sedately away. Claudia yanked her suitcase off the bed, nearly decapitating Mary Anne and Dawn and me.
“Sorry,” she said. “Let’s go!”
Stacey saw Kristy look at her watch. “Don’t be a Scrooge, Kristy,” she said. “You knew we had to leave early.”
Kristy couldn’t help but grin. “Oh, okay. Have fun in New York.”
On a wave of good-byes, Claudia and Stacey rushed out of the room. Claudia wouldn’t be back until Christmas Eve day, and Stacey wouldn’t be back until New Year’s Day.
So we don’t have a photograph of that meeting of the BSC, the one before the creepy Christmas began.
Stacey snagged us two seats on the train and looked around. Although it was rush hour, our train wasn’t very crowded. Most people were headed in the opposite direction, out of the city toward their homes.
“Looks like everybody is leaving New York except us,” Stacey joked as a train jammed with commuters passed us going in the other direction. “Good.”
I nodded. I was just glad to be sitting down. I had loaded my suitcase and my pack, and all the gear was heavy.
“Have you talked to Ethan since last night?” I asked, trying to sound casual.
Stacey looked at me in surprise. “No. When would I have? I barely had time to finish packing and make it to our BSC meeting.” She grinned. “Not that I can’t wait to see him. We haven’t seen each other for way, way too long.”
“Oh,” I said. Ethan is Stacey’s new boyfriend. They have a long-distance relationship; she met him while visiting her father. He seems nice enough, but I had to admit I was a little worried. Stacey had done the disappearing-friend act on me once before, with an old boyfriend, when she and I went on vacation with her dad. I didn’t want it to happen again. On the other hand, if we were going to hang around with Ethan a lot, I didn’t want to feel like some weird third person on a two-person date.
Stacey said, “It’ll be fun, Claud. We’ll have a super time.”
“Right.”
Stacey knows me well. “Hey,” she said. “Don’t worry. I’m not going to abandon you. You’re my best friend and Ethan knows it. He’s looking forward to seeing you. And he is going to give us his special New York City Art Tour. Don’t forget, he’s an artist, too.”
I had forgotten, momentarily. The thought cheered me up. Ethan and I did have something in common. We’d have plenty to talk about. And if we were touring galleries and museums, it would be hard for me to feel like a third wheel. I probably wouldn’t even notice Ethan and Stacey.
“There are a few museums I’d like to see,” I admitted. “One of the galleries has some Alice Neel pieces and of course I have to check out the Georgia O’Keeffes. Plus there’s a fashion retrospective at the Met. Do you think Ethan would be willing to go see that?”
“Even if he’s not, we’re going to,” Stacey declared. “We also have some serious shopping to do. Christmas in New York is not Christmas unless you actually manage to purchase something at a major department store in the middle of the Christmas rush.”
I was feeling better already. “We’re going to go see the Christmas tree at Rockefeller Center, aren’t we?” I asked.
“If I have my way, we’re going ice-skating there too,” said Stacey.
Did I say I was feeling better? My excitement was growing. What had I been worried about? How could anyone not have a fabulous time spending Christmas in New York City?
The train hadn’t been crowded, but when we chugged into Grand Central Station, an ocean of people practically drowned us. I grabbed Stacey’s arm and was not reassured to see that even Stacey, who is used to New York (after all, it is her hometown), seemed a little startled.
Then Mr. McGill yelled, “Stacey!” and we saw him. It took him a moment to work his way through the currents of people, but then he was hugging Stacey and saying, “Hello, Claudia. Merry Christmas!”
“No kidding!” I gasped.
Mr. McGill grinned. “I know you are much too old for me to tell you to hold my hand, but I think we could try the jacket system to stay together, just until we get out of the station.”
“The jacket system?” I asked.
“I hold onto the back of Dad’s jacket, and you hold onto mine,” explained Stacey.
I was relieved and more than willing to go along with it. In fact (don’t tell anyone), if Mr. McGill had said we had to hold hands to stay together, I would have agreed.
The station was even more jammed than the train platform. Tightly clutching the back of Stacey’s bomber jacket, I threaded my way through the crowds. Then something made me look up and I almost forgot to hold on.
The ceiling of the station was painted a wonderful shade of blue, with constellations in gold. I remembered reading that Grand Central had been undergoing renovations and that the amazing colors had been discovered under years’ and years’ worth of grime.
“Claud!” Stacey called over her shoulder, and I stumbled forward, still staring at the ceiling.
And then I was staring at a winter sky full of snowflakes. We’d made it outside. It was official. We had arrived in New York City.
“We’re going to the East Village for dinner after we drop off your luggage,” said Mr. McGill. “There’s a restaurant called Two Boots that I think you’ll like. It’s a lot of fun.”
“What kind of food?” asked Stacey.
“Italian and southern Louisiana,” said Mr. McGill. He flagged a cab and we climbed in.
I looked at Stacey and Stacey looked at me. We both smiled.
It was going to be a wonderful Christmas vacation.
They came from the sky and landed on my bed. I was sound asleep, but I woke up. Quickly.
“Ugh! Who … what …”
“Kristy, Kristy, Kristy!” shouted my seven-year-old stepsister, Karen, in her loudest outdoor voice.
I clapped my hands over my ears and fell back.
I saw her lips moving. I saw our puppy’s big red tongue lolling out inches from my face. I felt my four-year-old stepbrother, Andrew, bouncing on my stomach.
Then my brother David Michael (he’s seven, too) pulled one hand away from my ear. His cheeks were flushed and he looked very excited. “Kristy! There’s been a —”
“Thieves! Robbers! Burglars!” shrieked Karen dramatically, her blue eyes huge behind her glasses.
“WHAT?!” I shoute
d even louder than Karen and sat up so quickly that Andrew almost tumbled off the bed. I caught him and he laughed as if he thought this were a great game. “Hi, Kristy,” he said.
“We’ve been robbed?” I gasped, swinging out of bed and grabbing my bathrobe. “What happened? When? What did they take?”
I put Andrew on the floor and headed for the door of my bedroom, tying the sash of my robe.
“Not us,” David Michael said. “The Hsus.”
“Oh,” I said. I stopped. I was relieved. I mean, I was relieved we hadn’t been robbed. But I was still pretty shocked. “Someone robbed the Hsus? When?”
“Last night,” said Karen importantly. “Mr. Hsu just called Daddy and told him all about it.”
“So we want to go visit Timmy and Scott,” said David Michael.
“I don’t think that’s such a good idea right now,” I said. “Maybe a little later. They probably have their hands full at the moment.”
“You won’t take us to visit them?” asked Karen. She looked very disappointed.
“Later,” I promised. “Let me get dressed now.”
In record time I was into my jeans, winter boots, and sweater and was speed-chewing my way through cereal and toast.
Watson was finishing his breakfast and sorting through the mail, putting it into neat stacks: Christmas cards, bills, a renewal notice from the gardener, a book club circular. He didn’t look like a man who had received shocking news of a burglary. Nor was he speeding through breakfast, mainly because I was barely giving him a chance to eat as I peppered him with questions about the break-in.
At last he gave a look of mild reproach and said, “I’ve told you everything I know, Kristy.”
“Sorry,” I said. I was dying of curiosity. What had happened? What had been stolen? Were there any clues? Any witnesses?
I needed to know more. Call it my detective’s instinct. (Not for nothing has Abby nicknamed me Agatha Kristy!)
Then I had a brilliant idea. “I bet the Hsus could use a little baby-sitting help right now,” I said. “Maybe I’ll go over and offer to keep an eye on Timmy and Scott for a while. It would be the neighborly thing to do.”
“Very neighborly,” agreed Watson dryly. He wasn’t fooled by my sudden sense of neighborliness. But I saw a twinkle in his eye.
“Right,” I said. “Well, see you later.”
In no time flat I was in my winter jacket and heading down the street to the Hsus’.
No police cars in sight, I noted, but plenty of footprints in the snow. Too many to provide any clues. Besides, we hadn’t had a fresh snowfall in awhile, so there was no way of telling when the footprints had been made.
Mr. Hsu met me at the door. Timmy and Scott were right beside him.
“We were robbed!” Timmy shouted.
“I know,” I said. To Mr. Hsu I said, “I came over to offer my baby-sitting services. I thought you might need them.”
“That’s very thoughtful of you, Kristy,” said Mr. Hsu. “And the answer is yes. These guys don’t need to be around for this. In fact, they should be getting ready for school.” (SMS was the only school lucky enough to let out two days early with a broken boiler.)
As he spoke, Mr. Hsu stepped back and I followed him into the entrance hall.
I gasped. Even from there, I could see that the house looked as if a tornado had hit it. I saw overturned chairs, books torn from bookcases, pictures ripped from walls. Cushions had been shredded, things broken. The house was a huge mess.
Trying to sound calm, I said, “When did this happen?”
“The best we can figure out, it was last night. We were away overnight, visiting my mother, who just got out of the hospital.”
“Did the neighbors … ?”
He shook his head. “Nobody seems to have seen or heard anything. The police are investigating.”
I realized that Timmy and Scott were staring at their father and me anxiously. Although I wanted to ask a zillion more questions, I said, “Hey, guys, why don’t we find your coats and head for school?”
“I want to stay here,” said Timmy.
“What if they come back?” asked Scott.
“They’re not going to come back,” I reassured them. “Not with your mom and dad here.”
Scott scowled. “I want to catch them. They’re bad.”
I had a sudden inspiration. “This afternoon let’s walk around the neighborhood, and you can ask your friends if they heard or saw anything yesterday. It’ll be a clue hunt.”
“Okay!” shouted Timmy.
I helped the two boys round up their school things. As I walked through the house, I saw disturbing evidence that every room and closet had been ransacked. Even in the boys’ rooms, clothes were strewn everywhere, and books and toys were scattered willy-nilly from one end to the other.
The only thing that wasn’t a mess? Their suitcases, still unopened in the middle of their beds, next to their coats.
On the way out of the house I stuck my head into the living room to tell the Hsus we were leaving. Mrs. Hsu was sweeping up broken Christmas tree ornaments.
“I’m just glad we weren’t here,” she said. “At least no one was hurt.”
“True,” I said. “Is anything missing?”
“Not so far,” she said. “It looks as if whoever did it just had some sick idea of what’s fun.”
“Kristy,” Timmy called from the front door. “Come on. We’ll be late for school.”
“Coming,” I said. But I was staring at the wall where a mirror had been. Across it, in big, loopy letters, someone had written with red spray paint: NAUGHTY.
It was weird. And what could it possibly mean? The Hsus are one of the nicest families in town.
That afternoon I met Timmy and Scott after school and we went on a “clue hunt” in the neighborhood. At the Kilbournes’, Shannon looked flustered when she opened the door and Timmy blurted out, “Did you see any burglars at our house last night?”
Quickly I stepped in and explained what had happened. Shannon looked shocked. She peered over my shoulder and down the street as if she expected to see the mysterious intruders. But of course she didn’t.
“Come on in,” she said. “Mom and Dad aren’t here, but Tiffany and Maria are. I didn’t see or hear anything last night, but you can ask them if they did.”
Neither of her sisters had. Eleven-year-old Tiffany was plainly unhappy that she hadn’t, and eight-year-old Maria wanted to know if the thieves had stolen any toys.
“No,” Scott said. “But they made a mess.”
As the four children talked excitedly, I told Shannon in a low voice about what I had seen, especially the word scrawled on the wall.
“That is too weird,” she said. “I don’t like it. And the thieves must have been watching the house to know that the Hsus were out of town. Think of how long it takes to trash a place like that.”
“Yeah. I just hope it’s an isolated incident.”
“Me, too.” Shannon looked thoughtful. “I’ll tell Mom and Dad. We don’t want anyone showing up at our house while we’re away.”
“Lots of people will be away during the holidays. The Papadakises are going away. And Logan and his family,” I said. Then, seeing Shannon’s worried expression, I said, “I’ll try to keep an eye on your house, okay?”
Shannon raised her eyebrows. “And you’ll try to solve the mystery. Admit it, Kristy.”
I smiled and pretended to twirl an imaginary mustache. “Maybe,” I said.
Mrs. Korman (the Kormans live across the street from us) had already heard about the break-in. But she hadn’t seen or heard anything suspicious that day or the night before. Neither had nine-year-old Bill or seven-year-old Melody. If Skylar had, she wasn’t talking, but then, she’s only a year and a half old.
Anna and Abby were at home. Anna was practicing her violin, and the sight of the instrument distracted the Hsus momentarily. Anna was very patient, showing it to them and drawing her bow across the strings, making fu
nny sounds. She would have been a good baby-sitter, I thought, not for the first time. But Anna had turned down our offer of BSC membership, to concentrate on her music.
Neither she nor Abby had heard or seen anything suspicious the previous day or evening. “But then, we were in school most of the day,” Abby pointed out. “Plus, this time of year, the neighborhood is full of all kinds of delivery trucks.”
She had a good point. During the holiday season, trucks and vans delivered everything from Christmas trees to fruit baskets to party supplies, not to mention the usual mail and package services that also did a booming business.
Scott and Timmy were beginning to get tired and a little cranky. Who could blame them? Coming home from an overnight trip to find your house had been broken into had been a hard way to start the day.
I didn’t mention the dread word “nap” to them, but I decided it was time to head back to their house to see if they’d be able to handle some downtime.
“I’ll keep an eye on things,” Abby promised as we left, and I knew she was thinking the same thing I was. This was a mystery, and maybe we could help solve it.
On the other hand, I thought, if the police solved it, and quickly, that would be just fine with me. The idea of weird burglars cruising the neighborhood gave me the creeps.
We returned to the Hsus’ to find that things were a little more organized, and that Sergeant Johnson and Sergeant Tang were there asking some questions. The two police officers are part of the crime unit with the Stoneybrook Police, and we had met at other crime scenes.
Mr. Hsu took charge of the boys immediately, announcing that it was time for supper. I lingered as Mrs. Hsu finished answering the officers’ questions.
“No,” she said. “No one. I haven’t seen anyone suspicious around the neighborhood or around the house lately.” She made a rueful face. “I would have called the police if I had.”
Nor had she or her family received any threats or mysterious phone calls, she told Sergeant Tang.
“It must have been a random break-in,” Sergeant Johnson concluded finally. “If you can think of anything you want to add, please call.”
Baby-Sitters' Christmas Chiller Page 2
