The Great Shelby Holmes (15 page)

While I like the name John just fine, as Shelby had already pointed out, so many people have that name. Zane was such an unusual name it stood out. If I was going undercover, I wanted a name like that.

“Why couldn't you have given me something cooler, like Shane or Spencer or Silas?” My mind blanked at more names.
Okay, maybe coming up with names was harder than I thought. “Or, I don't know … Sherlock.”

“Sherlock?”
Shelby scoffed. “What kind of name is
Sherlock
? You wanted to go undercover as
Sherlock Holmes
? Like anybody would believe that.”

I ignored Shelby's snickering. Instead, I tried to remember every turn we'd taken so I could start getting around on my own. While I wanted to be here, having Shelby as a tour guide really grated on my self-esteem.

At first, we passed apartment complexes, but we were now walking by buildings that were abandoned and boarded up. The streets were mostly empty, except for the occasional homeless person. I began to get jittery whenever a horn or alarm went off. I practically jumped out of my skin when glass from a broken window shattered near us. What kind of contact did Shelby have who would live here?

“Ah, Shelby,” I said as a rat scurried away from an empty lot that was filled with garbage. “This doesn't seem very safe.”

“Oh, I would advise that you never come here alone. This isn't a very desirable part of town.”

Then what were we doing there? And why did Shelby feel that she was invincible?

“Don't worry, Watson. We're almost there.”

Oddly enough, that didn't make me feel better. I wanted to turn around and go back to our safe street. Or better yet,
the Lacys', which seemed like a million miles away from here instead of just a few.

A young guy, probably around sixteen, turned the corner. The second he spotted us, his eyes narrowed and a menacing grin appeared on his face. “Hold up.” He walked over with a swagger. His jeans were hanging low on his hips; his Yankees cap sat crooked on his head. “What do you think you're doing here?”

Shelby wisely ignored him and kept walking.

“Yo! I'm talking to you!” He jumped in front of us.

My stomach filled with butterflies. I was used to military posts where only authorized personnel were allowed. I never had to worry about being mugged or whatever this guy was going to do. But Shelby didn't seem fazed.

Shelby sighed. “If you must know, I'm here to speak with Dante. You may escort us there if you feel the need. However, I am more than capable of making the journey unaccompanied.”

The guy started laughing. “Oh, you think you've got some business with Dante?” Much to my dread, he turned to me. “And what about you? You some mute or something?”

My manly response was a terrified stare.

“You must be new,” Shelby declared, then gave the guy a quick once-over.

Uh-oh
. She was going to do that Shelby thing she did, and I had a feeling this guy was not going to appreciate it. If only I could've found my voice, or stopped my legs from shaking so I could've run away. I'm a pretty fast runner, and I bet this guy wouldn't have gotten very far before his pants fell down. But I didn't want to leave Shelby alone. As much as she was under the impression that she could take care of herself, I wasn't so sure.

Shelby began while I held my breath. “While I admire your attempt to get away from your white-collar roots, I can see through your act. Why don't you put your expensive shoes that your Wall Street banker father bought to use and walk away? Or does Dante not know that you only play dress-up during the summer and weekends when you don't have to attend your all-boys academy?”

The guy looked like he was going to be sick. “Who do you think you are?” he asked with his chin held high, but there was a waver in his voice.

“Someone who's finished having this conversation. Come on, Watson.” Shelby sidestepped the guy and turned the corner, where there was a group of five other teens sitting on a park bench across the street, all of them bearing a resemblance to the guy we just left.

Great
. Now we were in even bigger trouble. Shelby proved that she could handle one bully, but five?

“Why, if it isn't the great Shelby Holmes!” The guy in the center stood up as we approached. My jaw practically hit the floor. This guy not only knew Shelby, he looked happy to see her. “What's happening, World's Smallest Detective?” He held out his fist for Shelby to bump. After it was clear she was not going to appease him, he put it down.

“I need some information, Dante.”

“Anything for you, Shelby.” He turned to his companions, who seemed as perplexed as I was. “This little girl may be the smartest person you dudes will ever come across—she got me out of a jam a few months back. You see her around, you take good care of her. Am I clear?”

The group all gave Shelby a nod of respect.

Dante motioned over to me. “You got muscle now? Smart move, girl—you sure do make some enemies.”

This guy was pretty smart.

“Dante, this is John Watson. He has moved into my building, and I'm showing him around.”

Dante laughed. “These parts aren't usually on the tourist maps. Listen, John Watson, you need anything, you come to me, okay? Any friend of Shelby's is a friend of mine. Maybe in a few years, when you get a little older, you can come work for me.”

I had no idea what this guy did, but I was fairly positive it was something that Mom would've had a huge problem
with. I didn't want to be rude to one of Shelby's contacts, but I also didn't want to agree to a potential life in crime.

What had Shelby gotten us into?

“I don't think so, Dante.” Shelby wagged her finger at him. “John Watson is going to be an accomplished writer, not a thug.”

A chorus of
oooh
s came from the group. I highly doubted many people talked to Dante like that and got away with it, but he responded by laughing.

“What's this info you need?”

“Do you know if there's betting going on for the Manhattan Kennel Club Dog Show tomorrow—specifically, have there been any rumblings of someone trying to fix the toy breed competition?”

This guy was a
bookie
? I'd only seen bookies on
TV
. They were always really shady characters who threatened people who owed them money from a bet they'd lost. I couldn't believe Shelby would be friends with one.

Wait, Shelby Holmes didn't have
friends
; she had
contacts
.

I was a little scared, but also curious. (Okay, I was really scared. I mean, we were hanging out in this supersketchy place where I had no idea how to get home. Plus, if Mom ever found out, she'd really give me something to fear. Dante and his gang seemed tough, but they had nothing on my mom.)

The group erupted into laughter at Shelby's questions about the dog show. “Yo, Dante!” one of the guys yelled. “Put me down for a nickel on a poodle!”

“Shelby,” Dante said with a grin, “I work with legitimate sporting events.”

“There's nothing legitimate about what you do, Dante,” Shelby fired back.

“All I'm saying is that I don't deal with silly things like dog shows. I don't know where you got your information that I did, but it was wrong.”

Could it possibly be that Shelby was finally wrong about something? I looked up to the sky, waiting for the heavens to open up and flood the city.

“Am I really?” Shelby asked with a raised eyebrow.

“Fellas!” Dante motioned to the group. “Give me a second with Shelby and John Watson so I can educate them on what we do here.”

The group began to disperse across the street. Dante waited until they were out of earshot before he leaned in and spoke softly. “You got some information that may affect my line?”

“What?” I blurted out. “You really do take bets on dog shows?”

“Shh, man!” Danted hissed. “I've got a reputation to uphold! Of course I take bets. Those rich folks love throwing
money on their prized pooches. Last year I earned more green than I did during the
NBA
Finals!”

Unreal.

“I've got a missing dog.” Shelby got back to business. “What do you think the chances are that a trainer would sabotage his front-runner to earn more money?”

“Which dog?”

“Daisy, the Cavalier King Charles spaniel that the Lacys own.”

“Why would the trainer do that?” Dante scratched his head. “Unless the dog with the biggest odds won and he placed a ton of money, he'd be better off sticking with his own dog.”

Shelby looked thoughtful for a moment. “Who do you have as the underdog?”

Both Dante and I chuckled at her unintentional pun.

“Let me see.” Dante took out a small notebook from his back pocket and started flipping through pages. “I have Daisy as the favorite, but Mr. Wiggles is a close second. The dog that I have with the biggest odds is a Yorkshire terrier named Princess. First year showing. Also has a new trainer.”

“Hmmm,” Shelby considered his information. “It doesn't fit that Emerson would risk it.”

Dante scribbled in his notebook. “So let me get this straight: Daisy will be a no-show tomorrow?”

“No.” Shelby stood up straighter, looking defiant. “Daisy will be there.”

I wanted to ask her how she knew that when there were so many open-ended questions and suspects. But I stopped myself, because I knew that if Shelby was certain of something, it wasn't without reason.

Shelby nodded at Dante. “Thank you for your help.”

“Anytime, Shelby. You be careful—that's some shady business you're dealing in.”

“And you're certainly an expert on that.”

Dante began shaking his head as we walked away. “You're too much, Shelby.”

“So I've been informed.”

CHAPTER

17

S
helby
was
quiet
during
the
subway
ride
to
the
L
acys
'. S
he
wasn
'
t
one
for
small
talk
,
so
I
studied
all the people who got on and off the subway.

“You know, Watson, I have to admit that it's been quite helpful having you around,” she finally said. “Sometimes nothing clears up a case more than stating the facts to another person. Perhaps I should reconsider my position on having an assistant.”

Whoa. Whoa. Whoa
. I didn't want to be anybody's
assistant
. Yeah, I could learn a lot from Shelby, but as an apprentice or something.
NOT
her assistant.

Was that why she wanted me here today? Not because she thought I could genuinely help her, but because she wanted me to be her assistant? Was I supposed to fetch her coffee or something? (More like keep her properly sugared.)