Mystery of the Phantom Heist (9 page)

How would we stop it when we didn’t know what it was?

“Frank,” Joe interrupted my thoughts. “That girl on the speakerphone . . .”

“What about her?” I asked.

“Her voice sounded familiar,” Joe said.

I shot him a sideways glance. He was staring out the passenger window, deep in thought.

“You mean like someone from school?” I asked. “If she’s Colin’s girl, chances are she goes to Bay Academy.”

“Then I wouldn’t know her,” Joe said, shrugging it off.
“It’s eleven o’clock. Do you think it’s too early for pizza?”

“For you, no,” I said. “For me, yes.”

“Think of it as a power lunch,” Joe said. “While we feast on pepperoni and mushrooms, we can talk about the case.”

We had a lot to talk about, especially after what we’d heard at Colin’s.

“You win,” I said, turning the car onto Bay Street. “Pizza, here we come.”

Saturday was the busiest shopping day of the week, so I was lucky to find a parking spot right away.

“Let’s go to Pie Squared, the place that makes those square-shaped pizzas,” Joe suggested.

“Are the pepperoni square too?” I joked.

Joe was too busy staring up the street to get my joke.

“What is it?” I asked.

“Check out who’s coming,” Joe said.

Turning my head, I saw who Joe was talking about. Strutting toward us and swinging shopping bags from both hands was Lindsay Peyton. She was walking next to another girl, also armed with bags.

“Good timing,” I said. “Let’s see what she knows about Colin.”

It wasn’t sunny, but the two girls were wearing huge dark sunglasses. One of Lindsay’s bags smacked into my leg as the two breezed by.

“Hey!” Joe called after them. “Remember us?”

Lindsay peered over her shoulder. “Oh, it’s you two,” she said in a voice as cold as ice.

“I’ve heard friendlier greetings at the Haunted Mansion,” Joe said as we walked over.

“It happened to be an appropriate one,” Lindsay said, raising her chin. “You know, my dad had to get me a new car.”

She turned to her friend and said, “Not that that was a bad thing, right, Grace?”

“Right!” Grace laughed.

The friends readied to high-five, only to realize their hands were full.

“If you’re still saying we keyed your car, you’re wrong,” I said. “It was already keyed when we got to the parking lot.”

“Whatever,” Lindsay said with a shrug.

“You heard about all that gang stuff going around, didn’t you?” Joe asked.

Lindsay stared at him. “Are you serious?” she said. “Do you know what tomorrow is?”

“Sunday?” Joe said.

“Omigosh, tomorrow is Lindsay’s Sweet Sixteen!” Grace said as if we’d just touched down from another planet.

“Who has time to think about anything else?” Lindsay asked. She tilted her head and said, “So are you kicking yourself for not working my party?”

Joe shook his head. “Togas aren’t my style.”

Lindsay clicked her tongue in disgust. She and Grace were about to turn when I said, “Wait!”

I couldn’t let Lindsay leave before asking her about Colin.

“I heard you didn’t invite Colin Sylvester to your party,” I said quickly.

Lindsay’s shoulders drooped at the mention of Colin. “Did he tell you that?” she asked.

“No,” I said. “We must have overheard it somewhere. Can’t remember where or when—”

“We just want to know why he’s not invited,” Joe cut in. “That’s all.”

Lindsay pushed her sunglasses up on her head. She narrowed her eyes and said, “Because Colin Sylvester is a psycho creep—that’s why!”

“Colin’s been trying to ask Lindsay out since middle school,” Grace said. “He even tried to get into our clique at school.”

“And you kept turning him down?” I asked Lindsay.

“I wouldn’t go out with Colin if he looked like an Abercrombie model,” Lindsay snapped. “I’m just glad he has a girlfriend now—maybe he’ll leave me alone.”

“Who is she?” Joe asked.

“Who?” Lindsay repeated.

“Colin’s girlfriend,” Joe urged.

“Is she bad news like him?” I asked.

Lindsay wrinkled her nose and said, “What are you guys—some kind of investigative reporters?”

“Sort of,” Joe said.

“Whatever, I can’t talk now,” Lindsay said impatiently,
dropping her sunglasses over her eyes. “I have a ton of stuff to do before my party tomorrow.”

“Like having your eyebrows waxed in ten minutes!” Grace reminded her.

“Gracie!” Lindsay complained as the two hurried away. “Like, thanks for letting them think I have a unibrow!”

When the girls were out of earshot, I said, “Well, I guess it’s true that Lindsay hates Colin—he sounds like a creep.”

We continued up the block, and Joe said, “Frank, do you think Colin’s big plan includes the Scaredevils?”

“Probably,” I said. “The Scaredevils seem to be Colin’s sock puppets. They’ll do anything for his money.”

“And I’ll do anything for pizza right now,” Joe said. “You know I can’t talk about a case on an empty stomach.”

“Okay, okay,” I said, smiling. “We’re almost there.”

Joe and I made our way to Pie Squared, where we shared a pepperoni pizza with olives and mushrooms.

“So,” Joe said, popping a mushroom into his mouth. “What’s next on the agenda?”

I wanted to answer him, but not with a big piece of mozzarella cheese hanging from my mouth over my chin. I must have looked pretty pathetic, especially when the door opened and in walked—of all people—Sierra Mitchell!

I yanked the cheese from my mouth—only to get it tangled around my hand.

“Hey, guys!” Sierra called with a wave.

“Smooth, bro, real smooth,” Joe teased.

When my hand was finally cheese free, I smiled coolly and said, “Hey.”

“Don’t tell me you eat pizza for breakfast too,” Joe said to Sierra.

“No,” Sierra said. “I’m actually here on a work mission. The party planners are toiling around the clock for Lindsay’s Sweet Sixteen tomorrow, so we all need lunch.”

“We’re working today too,” I said. “Those pranks around Bayport are keeping us busy.”

“Oh, that’s right, you’re detectives,” Sierra said. She then planted her hands on her hips and added, “Well, if you ask me, I think we’re all working a little too hard for a Saturday.”

“It is what it is,” Joe said with a shrug.

“We can still take a break,” Sierra said. Her eyes lit up. “Why don’t you come over to the Peytons’, Frank, and we’ll take one of their boats out for a spin?”

“So Mr. Peyton can accuse us of trying to steal his boat?” I scoffed. “Thanks—but no thanks.”

“Borrowing the boat is one of my job perks,” Sierra explained. “I get to use the small powerboat during my breaks.”

“Not the yacht?” I joked.

“Maybe when I become head event planner,” Sierra joked back. “But for now the small boat is cool. I took it out yesterday afternoon and had a blast.”

I smiled at the thought of boating with Sierra—until I felt Joe kick me under the table and give me a look. Now what?

“I know,” Sierra said excitedly. “Why don’t you come with us, Joe?”

“Me?” Joe asked, surprised.

“Him?” I asked, even more surprised.

“The more the merrier,” Sierra said cheerily.

“In that case,” Joe said, “thanks!”

“Yeah, thanks,” I muttered to Joe. Better than nothing, I guess.

“Super!” Sierra said as she glanced at her watch. “Meet me at the Peytons’ docks at two o’clock. Just go around the house to the back and I’ll be there.”

Sierra then did something totally unexpected. She threw me a kiss before walking to the take-out counter. Me—not Joe!

“I saw that,” Joe teased again. “She’s got it bad for you, big brother.”

We finished our pizza, then got ready to go boating. I changed into khaki shorts, a polo shirt, and flip-flops. Joe pulled on a pair of cleaner jeans, sneakers, and a T-shirt sporting a soft-drink logo.

“You look like you go to Bay Academy!” Joe joked when we reached the Peyton house.

“And you look like you’re in kindergarten!” I complained.

There was no Peyton sighting as we headed around the house to the two docks.

“Can you imagine what Sanford would do if he saw us trespassing like this?” Joe asked as we walked down a hill toward the bay.

“We’re not trespassing,” I reminded him. “Taking out the boat is one of Sierra’s job perks. She told us herself.”

“So where is Sierra?” Joe asked, looking around. “She told us she’d meet us here.”

I didn’t see Sierra either. Were we about to get stood up?

Joe whistled through his teeth as he moved up the docks. “Hey—check out Sanford’s awesome toys,” he said.

There were three boats roped along the two docks—two luxury cabin cruisers and a smaller powerboat with a sleek V-shaped hull. Not too shabby, to say the least.

“Frank, Joe,” Sierra’s voice called.

I smiled when I saw Sierra at the top of the hill, but my good mood quickly faded. She looked upset.

“What’s up?” I called up to her.

“My supervisor just called,” Sierra said, her shoulders drooping. “She wants me to order a limo for the band.”

“So you can’t go boating?” Joe asked.

“Not right now,” Sierra said. “Why don’t you take the powerboat out in the meantime? I’ll meet you back on the dock in twenty minutes.”

“It’s okay,” I said. “We’ll wait for you—”

“No!” Sierra said kind of quickly. “Take the boat out, so I won’t feel so guilty. When was the last time you drove a boat?”

“Last summer,” I said. “I have my license and everything.”

“Great,” Sierra said, tossing me the key. “See you in twenty minutes, okay?”

“Okay!” I called back.

Sierra ran back to the house.

“I guess we’re on our own,” I said as I walked up the dock to Joe. “At least for now.”

Joe was already untying the powerboat. “All right!” he exclaimed. “Joy ride, baby!”

As I walked up to the boat, I felt a little uneasy. Sure, it was pretty cool to take it for a spin, but I didn’t think Mr. Peyton would feel the same way. When I told Joe my thoughts, he waved me off.

“He’ll never know,” he assured me as he stepped in.

Let’s hope he doesn’t,
I thought.

It took us a few minutes to untie the boat. Once it was freed from the dock, we climbed inside.

“I’ll drive,” I said, taking my place behind the wheel. Joe sat next to me, slipping on a pair of shades.

Before I started the engine, I did a few safety checks. There was plenty of fuel. Check. Life jackets. Check.

After a few more checks, I turned on the ignition switch. When I pulled back on the throttle, it felt loose, but it didn’t seem to be an issue as I cast the boat off from the dock. After turning the craft around, I pushed the throttle forward.

“Full speed ahead!” I exclaimed as the boat cut across the water at an exhilarating pace.

“Woo-hooo!” Joe cheered.

I had forgotten what a blast boating could be—especially knowing we’d have another pretty passenger joining us soon.
But my thoughts were interrupted by the roar of a Jet Ski engine.

Turning my head, I saw the Jet Ski in the distance, heading right into our path.

“Slow down so you don’t hit her,” Joe said.

“Duh!” I responded as I grabbed the throttle. But as I pulled back on the throttle, something happened that turned my blood to ice.

The handle came off in my hand!

“Frank, slow down!” Joe cried, his eyes still on the Jet Ski. “We’re going to crash!”

“I can’t, Joe!” I shouted, staring at the handle in my hand. “I can’t!”

I
N A PANIC, FRANK FUMBLED TO POP THE THROTTLE
back in, only to watch it pop out again.

“Turn around!” I started yelling at the jet skier. “Turn around!”

By now I was standing up in the boat, my head spinning. We were either going to crash into the Jet Ski or into some trees on the opposite bank. Just as I was about to brace for the worst, I remembered another way to stop.

“The key!” I shouted.

My hand jutted out and turned the ignition key. The boat sputtering to a stop was like music to my ears. I could hear Frank heave a sigh as he slumped back on the seat.

The jet skier zoomed past us, just a few feet away. “When
are you going to learn how to drive?” she shouted above the whirring engine.

“When you learn how to turn that thing around!” I shouted back angrily.

“I think I’m going to barf,” Frank groaned slowly.

Picking up the fallen throttle, I shook my head. “I hope the Peytons get a refund on this hunk of junk.”

“I don’t get it,” Frank said. “How could a boat that must have cost hundreds of thousands of dollars fall apart like some kid’s toy?”

“Whatever happened, we’d better find a way to put this thing back where it belongs so we can get back to the dock!” I said.

As I leaned over to check the throttle, something caught my eye. On the floor of the boat, tucked deep under the dashboard, were a bunch of loose screws and a screwdriver.

Picking up one of the screws, I sized it up with the throttle. A perfect fit!

“Something tells me this wasn’t an accident, Frank,” I said.

“Wait a minute,” he said. “Are you saying someone unscrewed the throttle before we got into the boat?”

“It’s possible,” I said.

“But I used the throttle to cast off,” Frank said.

We studied the throttle. The most likely explanation was that only part of it had been unscrewed before we got into the boat. It would have been just a matter of time before the whole thing would pop off—which it had.

“Looks like somebody was trying to hurt the Peytons,” I said. “Or us.”

“Us?” Frank repeated.

“The Scaredevils already got to us,” I said. “The fire, the rock through the window . . .”

“How would they know we were going boating?” Frank asked. “The only one who knew was Sierra, and we know she isn’t a Scaredevil.”

Maybe not. But something about Sierra was starting to feel sketchy to me. Like, why had she invited Frank out at the last minute the night of the fire? And why had she invited both of us boating when the boat was unsafe?