Bonfire Masquerade (10 page)

“There he is!” she said joyfully. “This will let us track him in real time—at least until he realizes what I did.”

Firefighters were on the scene now. Two rushed over to the children.

“Things look to be in hand here,” said Joe. “Let's go after the robbers before we lose them!”

“We'll never catch up with them on foot,” I said.

“On it,” said Frank. He spoke quickly into his phone.

“Lenni and the Krewe de Crude are nearby,” he explained. “They said they'll bring us bikes we can use.”

We waited five long minutes, watching the blue dot recede into the distance on the map. It was torture. Finally the Hardys' friends showed up with the bikes.

“What's going on?” asked Lenni, after Frank had introduced us.

“No time to lose! We'll explain on the way.”

The Krewe members had to leave, but Lenni stayed with us. We all hopped onto the spare bikes. Each was cobbled together from lots of different bikes and they were as heavily decorated as many of the costumes I had seen. The bike I was on had a unicorn's head built between the handlebars, and a fake tail coming off the seat!

George tried to balance the laptop on her seat and pedal at the same time and nearly fell.

“Here, let me!” said Lenni. Somehow, she made biking while holding the computer look effortless.

Soon we were in hot pursuit of the little blue dot. On our bikes, we were able to catch up with it ever so slowly. Every time I managed to get next to Lenni, the blue light was a little closer.

Please
, I said to myself,
don't let him find that phone!
It was our only link to these crimes. Any other clues they might have left behind were just ashes now.

“There he is!” shouted George suddenly. She pointed into the crowd ahead of us.

“Which one is he?” I yelled back.

“The one with the mask!”

“Which mask?” There were hundreds of masks out there!

“The weird beak-nosed one. In the dark purple outfit!”

I saw him. He was maybe two hundred yards away, in the thickest part of the crowd. We tried to ride our bikes into the street, but it was no use. We all hopped off and left them at the curb.

George led the way as we burrowed deeper into the mass of people. Feathers and fake fur brushed up against me at every turn. My toes were stepped on, my back was elbowed, but we were gaining on him.

“There he is,” said Frank, spotting our quarry in the crowd again.

Unfortunately, it looked like he'd spotted us as well. He yelled something I couldn't hear, and suddenly the crowd around me erupted.

Hands were pushing me, hitting me, shoving me. Someone slammed Joe and me together, and my head started ringing from the impact. It was impossible to tell where all the blows were coming from, or who was doing it. The crowd must have been full of the rest of his gang.

“He's getting away down that alley!” I heard Frank yell. I stumbled toward his voice, just trying to stay on my feet. My impact with Joe must have been harder
than I thought, because my nose was bleeding slightly. If this turned into a stampede, someone could easily be trampled to death.

Finally I broke free of the crowd and burst into a tiny alley. It was empty. I hoped it was the alley Frank had seen the guy go down. I raced to the end of it—only to find another huge crowd and no sign of our guy.

“Where is he?” Joe's voice came over my shoulder.

“I don't see him anywhere!”

We peered this way and that. Lenni, Frank, and George all caught up with us. None of us had escaped the crowd uninjured. Frank looked like he had the beginnings of a black eye, and George was half limping.

We searched the alley anxiously, looking for any place our costumed gang member might be hiding. Joe grabbed my shoulder and pointed to two large garbage cans halfway back up the alley.

Silently we approached them.

One … two … three
, mouthed Joe.

On three, we simultaneously pulled the lids open to reveal … yesterday's trash.

“Over here,” yelled Frank, back at the head of the alley. “I think I found him. Or at least, what's left of him.”

In a small pile on the ground, underneath an empty plastic bag, lay the thief's mask and costume. George shoved her hand into one of the side pockets and pulled out her phone.

“Darn,” she said. “I guess it was too much to hope he would somehow find it and decide to take it with him. We were so close!”

We stood dejectedly around, staring at the costume. I carefully used the plastic bag to pick it up.

“Maybe this will have some more information for us,” I said. “And if there's anyone who can learn about a person from their clothes, it's Bess. We need to get this to her ASAP!”

“Let's get back on the bikes and get out of here,” said Joe. “Maybe we can still catch up with them.”

We hurried back through the alley and into the dense crowd. Even without a gang of masked men trying to slow us down, it was tough going. But finally we broke through to where we had left the bikes.

But they were gone. Someone must have stolen them in the few short minutes we'd left them unwatched—probably other members of the gang.

“Oh no,” cried Lenni. “I left the laptop with the bikes!”

“That had all the information from Andrew's phone!” cried George. “Now we'll never know what was on there!”

Things had just gone from bad to worse.

CHAPTER
12

JOE
A PICTURE IS WORTH A THOUSAND WORDS

“I can't believe we lost those bikes,” said Lenni, for probably the hundredth time.

“I told you,” I said. “ATAC will pay to replace them.”

“It's not the same,” replied Lenni. “Your bike is like … part of you. They made those bikes out of pieces. Decorated them. Loved them! It's going to be hard to tell them we lost them. We owe them big-time.”

“Sybil will understand,” said Frank. “I mean, she wants these guys caught as badly as we do.”

We all lapsed back into silence. We'd had to walk back and were almost at the hotel. With Mardi Gras in full swing, getting a cab was impossible. I wanted to be out among the costumed partyers, having fun and enjoying the music. Instead we were walking back
home in silence, all of us caught up in our own little worlds. To have come so close to solving the case, to catching the criminals, and then have them slip right out of our hands—it was infuriating.

“Hey Bess.” Nancy had finally managed to get Bess on her cell phone. That was another terrible thing about working this case during a party the size of Mardi Gras—all the cell phone circuits were constantly busy. Unless you were super lucky, it took twenty minutes to make a phone call.

“Something's come up. Can you break off your date early? Oh, great. Meet us at Frank and Joe's hotel.” She shut her phone.

“What did Bess say?” I asked.

“Date's already over. She's on her way.”

We walked along in silence again. We beat Bess to the hotel, but only by a few minutes. George and Frank hopped on the computer as soon as we made it back. Nancy paced. I sat on the couch and played catch with one of the cushions. As soon as Bess walked through the door, we pounced on her.

“What did you learn about Aaron?” Nancy asked.

“Look at this,” I said, tossing the costume at her. She caught it reflexively, without even noticing me.

“What happened to you guys?” she asked. “You look beat!”

I forgot that we'd all been injured in the crowd. We probably looked a mess. No wonder we'd gotten so many odd looks on the way back.

Nancy explained everything. While she did, Bess absentmindedly examined the costume, feeling the fabric carefully with her fingers.

“Sounds like I missed out on all the adventure. What was the place that got hit, anyway?”

“Looks like it used to be a deli,” answered George from the computer. “It closed down a few months ago. The family was living in an illegal apartment upstairs.”

“Let's hope that explains why the gang didn't know they were there,” added Frank. “This was the first time they hit somewhere while people were home. I'd hate for that to become their new pattern.”

“It makes no sense,” I said. “What are they getting out of this?” I punched the pillow in frustration.

“What about you? Learn anything about Aaron?” asked Nancy.

“Tons. But not applicable to the case. He took me to his office. See that building over there?” Bess pointed out the window to the one genuine skyscraper on the New Orleans skyline.

“His office is on, like, the nine hundredth floor of that building. It has an amazing view. Everything inside it is glass and light wood. Looks really Swedish. He
showed me his plans for the city, and all the projects he's working on. He's a real workaholic. Plus, he likes to hear himself talk.”

Bess paused for a moment and looked down at her hands, as though she had just realized what she was holding. “What's this, anyway?”

We explained where the costume had come from. Bess started to examine it more carefully.

“One thing I can tell you is that whoever owned this had money. This is expensive velvet, good dye job. The stitching? That's real gold thread. And all of this was done by hand. This is a one-of-a-kind, couture costume.”

“Stolen,” said Frank. “Must have been. Maybe from one of the earlier robberies?”

Bess shook her head. “Not possible. See these tears here in the fabric? Someone pulled this costume off in a hurry. But it fit them perfectly. If this wasn't tailored to them, there would be lots of places where it didn't fit right, and the seams would have burst all over. Whoever was wearing this had it made for them.”

“It fits with what Sybil told us,” I said. “They're not in this for the money. Nicole's got cash—and her store was full of costumes.”

“Yeah, but those costumes were cheap, mass-produced things,” said Nancy. “Aaron's pretty well off too. Both of them wanted to buy Daniel's property, and they were there when he was killed.”

“But none of this really connects them with all the attacks,” I added.

“There is one rich kid who we know has good taste in costumes,” said George, from over at the computer. “And whose cell phone is already connected to the crimes.”

“Andrew!” we all burst out.

“Bingo,” said George. “And though he might not be connected to Daniel, you'd be amazed what else he is connected with. Drunk and disorderly charges, public nuisance, vandalism. The guy's got a rap sheet of minor crimes a mile long.”

“How do you know that?” said Nancy, amazed.

“The Louisiana Department of Justice keeps very thorough, web-accessible records.” George smiled. “Want to see his mug shot?”

“What if his phone wasn't stolen?” I said. “What if he's part of the gang, and he dropped it, and made up that cover story when the police showed up?”

“It would explain why he never reported it stolen!” said Frank.

“It would also mean he was a lot smarter than I would have guessed,” muttered Nancy under her breath. We all laughed.

“Sounds like we need some proof,” I said. “And since Andrew isn't likely to give it to us, that means a little reconnaissance—the kind best done at night.”

I smiled. There had been far too little spy stuff on this case so far.

“Bess, can you call Aaron?” said Nancy. “Tell him I thought Andrew was cute, and see if he can arrange a triple date for us, with someone for George.”

“Ugh,” said George. “Make that a double date. I'll help you guys with Andrew. Do you have any wireless cameras? Remember the recent case we told you about, where we used a mic setup? If I can wire the two of you up, I can work from this end and look up anything you might find.”

“Good idea,” said Frank. “You can also help us out with any security he might have. We've got a wireless camera in our standard ATAC kit.”

In short order, plans were made with Aaron to ensure that Andrew would be out of his house tonight. So long as Frank and I avoided the butler, we'd be able to look around for a while.

With our plans set, all that was left to do was wait. Nancy and Bess went to get ready for their “dates.” An hour after they left, we got a text from Nancy asking us to join them later—that was the signal we had prearranged to let us know that Andrew was with them. The coast was clear.

Joe and I dressed in all black, including special black gloves and masks that ATAC had given us. On a normal night, we might have stood out, but this was Mardi
Gras, and no one paid us any attention on the street.

Andrew's house looked different with the lights off and the gates closed. It looked scary, like something out of a horror movie, but it also looked like the butler and any other servants were out. In fact, the whole block seemed quiet tonight. Apparently, the parties were somewhere else this evening.

We circled the house. The fence extended around it in all directions, ten feet high and topped with spikes. And were those …

“Look,” I said to Frank, careful to point only with my eyes. Casually, Frank turned his head.

“Motion detectors,” he said.

“That's what I thought,” I said.

“I see them,” said George through my earpiece. “Joe, can you turn so I can get a look at the front door? Most security companies put up stickers there. It'll give us an idea of what we're dealing with.”

“On it,” I replied. I was glad we had her with us.

“Okay, got it,” said George. “Give me a few minutes.” The microphone went quiet.

Around the back of the house we found a big backyard. Thankfully, one corner of it was overgrown with cypress trees. They would provide us some cover for climbing. And there was a set of patio doors that should be easy to jimmy open. Now if George could take care of the cameras, we'd be set.