Mystery of the Phantom Heist (7 page)

“So all Bay Academy students are honest?” I asked.

I looked over at the other officers, Lasko and Fernandez, for help. They were usually friendly guys, but now they stood behind Chief Olaf, as motionless as Mount Rushmore.

“Look, boys.” Chief Olaf sighed. “I am not going to bring in Colin Sylvester based on a text that I can’t even read.”

“But—” I started to say.

“Kids these days and their texts,” Chief Olaf said to the other officers with a chuckle. “Maybe if they’d all interact more on a personal level, we wouldn’t have all this trouble!”

I couldn’t take it anymore. If Chief Olaf wouldn’t listen to Frank and me, maybe he’d listen to Tony Riley.

“It wasn’t our text, Chief Olaf,” I blurted. “It was—”

“It was something we heard about,” Frank cut in.

I glanced sideways at Frank. Why was he protecting Tony? If Tony knew that rock was coming, he sure did nothing to protect us!

“All we know is that the Scaredevils are starting to target Joe and me,” Frank told the chief. He turned to me. “Show him the videos, Joe.”

I was about to pull out my tablet when the chief held up his hand.

“Those punks are targeting the entire town of Bayport,” Chief Olaf said. “So don’t think you’re so special, Detectives Hardy and Hardy.”

“Can you at least question Colin and see what he has to say?” Frank asked.

“Absolutely not,” Chief Olaf said. “There is no way I am going to embarrass good people like the Sylvesters when there’s no evidence on their son.”

The chief then turned to the officers and said, “Lasko, write up what the kids told us, but leave out the garbage about Colin.”

“Garbage?” I gasped.

All three officers turned away from us. As they started up the aisle, Officer Fernandez glanced back and smiled. Maybe he believed us. But with Olaf as chief, did it even matter?

“Can’t say we didn’t try,” Frank said with a sigh as we pulled on our jackets.

“Yeah,” I said, giving the broken window one last look. “I guess it’s up to us ‘so-called detectives’ to investigate Colin.”

T
HE LAST THING JOE AND I WANTED TO
do was get up extra early the next morning—especially after that intense night at the Chomp and Chew. But if we were going to make a pit stop at Bay Academy on the way to school, we’d have to get going.

“What if we don’t see Colin?” Joe asked me as I drove up Bay Academy’s block.

“Maybe some of the other kids can help us out,” I said.

“Other kids as in Sierra Mitchell?” Joe teased.

“I never said that,” I insisted, although the thought of running into Sierra had definitely crossed my mind.

I pulled up to the curb across the street from Bay Academy.

With the other expensive student cars parked on the block, mine stuck out like a sore thumb.

As I did my best to parallel park, I caught Joe eyeing his tablet.

“What are you looking at?” I grunted as I turned the wheel. “Anything new go viral?”

Joe shook his head. “I did a search on the Sylvesters,” he said. “No wonder the chief didn’t want to go after them.”

“What did you find?” I asked.

“The Sylvesters donated a whole chunk of money to a Bayport Police charity,” Joe said.

“Money talks . . . Colin walks.” I sighed.

“Speaking of Colin, I don’t think we have to worry about not finding him,” Joe said, pointing out the window. “Because there he goes!”

I leaned over to look out Joe’s window. It didn’t take long to find Colin. He was strutting confidently across the school grounds toward a group of other guys.

“Those are the guys from the Chomp and Chew,” I said.

Colin and his buds fist-bumped, then exchanged words. He seemed distracted, looking past his friends to something in the school yard. I followed Colin’s gaze to a bunch of girls standing a few feet away. One of those girls was Lindsay Peyton.

•   •   •

Joe and I watched as Colin broke away from his crew and began moving toward Lindsay. As far away as we were, I could still see Lindsay’s look of disgust as he approached.

Lindsay jutted her chin in the air. She appeared to say a few angry words to Colin before huffing off with her friends.

“That girl Stacy was right,” Joe said. “Lindsay can’t stand Colin.”

Colin glared icily at Lindsay until a slow smile spread across his face. Aunt Trudy would call it a “cat who swallowed the canary” type of smile. What was going on inside Colin’s head to make him grin like that?

“We still don’t know why Lindsay hates Colin,” I said.

“Frank, isn’t it a no-brainer?” Joe said. “The guy’s a creep.”

“It might be more than that,” I said.

“Okay, then,” Joe said. “He’s a major creep!”

He reached over and blared the car horn. It caught the attention of Colin and practically all the other students.

“What are you doing?” I asked Joe.

“We came here to talk to Colin, remember?” Joe said. He then leaned out the window and shouted, “Hey, Sylvester! Can we ask you something?”

Colin grinned nastily, then yelled back, “The answer is no! You cannot switch lives with me, even for a second!”

Joe muttered something under his breath as he pushed open his door. I opened mine and stepped out too.

As we headed toward the school, we could see Colin talking to a guard. Colin turned to leave, but the guard held up his hand and called, “Excuse me. Are you Bay Academy students?”

“No, sir,” I said.

“Then you can’t be here,” the guard said.

“If we need visitors’ passes, we’d be happy to get some in the office,” I said quickly.

The guard shook his head. “Sorry, boys,” he said firmly. “You’ll have to leave now.”

Colin was back with his friends, this time smiling slyly at us. Joe was right. Colin wasn’t just a creep—he was a major creep!

“You know something, Frank?” Joe said as we trudged back to our car. “I have a feeling this is going to be a bummer of a day.”

I thought so too—until my phone beeped with the text that changed everything. . . .

“Okay, what’s her name?” Joe teased as I smiled at my phone.

“Sierra just texted me,” I said.

“She might have seen you here,” Joe said. “What does she want?”

“She wants to meet me at the Meet Locker tonight,” I said, still smiling as I read the text.

“You mean the coffee place?” Joe said. “I thought she didn’t drink coffee.”

“They serve tea, too,” I said, texting back. “Twenty different kinds, as a matter of fact.”

“Well, what did you tell her?” Joe asked.

“What do you think?” I said. “I said sure.”

I pretended to be cool on the outside, but on the inside—cartwheels. As we stepped out of the car, Joe didn’t seem so stoked anymore. In fact, he looked pretty bummed out.

“What’s up?” I asked. “Don’t tell me you’re jealous!”

“No!” he insisted.

“Then what?” I asked.

“How did Sierra get your number?” Joe asked. “If I remember, she wrote hers on your hand. Not the other way around.”

Joe had a point. How had she gotten my number? But after I thought about it, it clicked.

“We filled out those job applications at the Peytons’,” I said. “We had to write our telephone and e-mail addresses on them, remember?”

“Oh yeah,” Joe said, slapping his forehead.

As I adjusted the rearview mirror, I thought about my date with Sierra. First dates usually meant small talk. But this date didn’t have to go that way.

“I’m going to ask Sierra about Colin tonight,” I told Joe. “If she knows him from school, maybe she can give us some information.”

“So this will be a working date?” Joe declared. He then smirked and said, “Yeah, right.”

As I drove slowly away from Bay Academy, I took one last look at the school. Most of the kids were filing into the building, but Colin was still hanging with his friends. This time a dark-haired girl stood with them. Her back was to
the street, so I couldn’t see her face. I just knew it wasn’t Lindsay.

“Hey, Frank,” Joe said as I turned onto the highway. “I’m going to Chet’s house tonight, but I want a full report after the date.”

“About Colin?” I asked.

“About Sierra!” he said with a grin.

It wasn’t easy focusing on school or our case the rest of the day. All I could think about was my date with Sierra. Maybe “date” was too strong a word. Maybe Sierra wanted to meet because she felt bad about what had happened at the Peytons’ . . . or maybe I was overthinking the whole thing!

I got to the Meet Locker at seven forty-five and waited inside my car until four minutes past eight. Didn’t want Sierra to think I was too eager—even though I was.

By the time I walked into the Meet Locker, Sierra was already there, sitting in a cushy chair and drinking a cup of tea.

“Sorry I’m late!” I blurted out as I sank into the opposite chair.

Sierra’s eyes sparkled over her cup as she said, “You’re not late—I’m early.”

I ordered my usual iced caramel chiller. Sierra’s tea smelled like vanilla. Or was that her perfume?

“This place is packed,” I said.

“It usually is on a Friday night,” Sierra said.

Glancing around, I wondered if there were any Scaredevils in the place. Probably not. They’d be out trashing Bayport, not sitting around sipping tea and coffee.

I turned back to Sierra. She seemed relaxed for someone working on the biggest Sweet Sixteen of the decade in just two days.

“I’m surprised you’re not running around for Lindsay tonight,” I said.

“Who says I’m not?” Sierra asked with a smile. “Lindsay wanted me to order a ton of coffee for her party. That’s the reason I was here early.”

She took another sip, then said, “So you and your brother are detectives? How did that start?”

“Our dad is a private investigator,” I explained. “When Joe and I were kids, we asked a lot of questions about his cases. When he got sick of answering us, we decided to work on our own. We were only about eight and nine.”

“Kid detectives?” Sierra smiled. “How sweet!”

She called me sweet! As we talked about other stuff like movies, school, and favorite foods, I started loosening up. Turns out Sierra loved mac and cheese just like me. But by the time I was on my second chiller, I decided to switch from small talk to spy talk.

“Do you know a guy at Bay Academy named Colin?” I asked.

“Colin?” Sierra said with a shrug. “There are a few guys at school named Colin.”

“Colin Sylvester,” I said.

Sierra put her teacup down on a side table. “Yeah, I know that Colin,” she said. “He sits near me in math.”

“So . . . is he bad news or what?” I asked.

Sierra blinked in surprise. “Bad news?” She chuckled. “What makes you ask that?”

I’d been hoping she wouldn’t ask me that.

The friend part of me wanted to tell Sierra everything about our case—the viral videos, the vandalism. But the detective part knew not to share too much.

“Joe and I think he might be up to something,” I said. “But that’s all I can say for now.”

“Ooh,” Sierra said, her eyes flashing. “A man of mystery!”

Man of mystery. I liked that.

“Actually, Colin can be a jerk sometimes,” Sierra offered. “Truth is, I think his bark is worse than his bite.”

“I doubt it,” I murmured, remembering the hurled soda can.

“What?” Sierra asked.

“Nothing,” I said.

“By the way,” Sierra chuckled, “you’ll be happy to know that Mr. Peyton found a solution to Lindsay’s keyed car. He bought her a new one!”

“Surprise, surprise,” I laughed.

“Mr. Peyton was going to give Lindsay a new car for her sixteenth birthday anyway,” Sierra said. “And speaking of the Sweet Sixteen, I’d better call it a night. I’m going to be crazy busy tomorrow with last-minute prep.”

“Sure,” I agreed as we stood up. “Um . . . can I call you again?”

Sierra tilted her head at me and smiled. “If I may remind you,” she said, “I was the one who called you . . . so the next move is yours.”

I offered to follow Sierra’s car home, but she refused. She didn’t seem worried about the pranks going on around Bayport. I guessed she was too busy with the party to worry about anything.

“Okay,” Joe said after I picked him up at Chet’s house. “So how’d it go?”

“Great!” I said as I drove the two of us home. “We talked about a lot of stuff.”

“About Colin?” Joe teased. “Or about your future together?”

“Will you quit it?” I said. “I did ask Sierra about Colin, but she didn’t have a lot on him. Just that he’s an idiot and not dangerous.”

“Glad she thinks so,” Joe said. “And I’m glad you have a new girlfriend.”

“Joe!” I sighed as I turned onto our block. “She’s not my girl.”

Yet.

As I drove up our street, I saw flashing lights in the distance.

“What’s that?” I wondered.

I drove a few more feet, and then Joe said, “Frank, there’s a fire truck in front of our house!”

“Fire?” I exclaimed. “No way!”

My heart pounded as I stopped behind the fire truck. Jumping out of the car, Joe and I raced toward our house. The house wasn’t on fire—but our garage was.

My first feeling was relief—at least our house wasn’t burning down. And since I had the car, there was nothing in the garage but some stored patio furniture and a lawn mower. But then I remembered the apartment above the garage—the apartment occupied by our aunt.

“Oh no!” I shouted. “Aunt Trudy!”

F
RANK AND I CHARGED TOWARD THE BURNING
garage. Mom and Dad watched silently, looking very worried as the firefighters worked on the blaze.

“Mom, Dad,” I said, my voice cracking. “Is Aunt Trudy up there?”

“We don’t know yet,” Mom said quietly. “One of the firefighters is climbing up to see.”

Frank turned to me, his mouth a grim line. I didn’t have to read his mind to know he was thinking the same as me: Was this the work of the Scaredevils? Were they such evil psycho creeps they would target not only Frank and me, but our family, too?

“I knew it,” Dad groaned, cutting into my thoughts. “All
those smelly candles Trudy loves to burn. I warned her several times!”