The Mystery of the Zorse's Mask (12 page)

“Izzy,” I guess.

Leo nods. “Subject sighted.”

Izzy stops spinning to stare up at Becca with curious blue eyes; then the screen dips lower for a close-up of the red-haired doll. I recognize the cloth doll with loopy yarn curls because I have a set of Raggedy Ann books on my shelves. The stories are magical, and I love how Raggedy Ann has a candy heart with the words
I love you
tucked inside her stuffed body. Once I put a candy heart in my Raggedy Ann doll, but ants swarmed all over her.

“Becca has infiltrated the house,” Leo reports.

I glance down at Leo's phone. The screen jiggles, sweeping across a tile floor, then rising to the ceiling, then stopping on Izzy sitting on a couch.

“My wife told me you wanted to ask Izzy about a mask?” Mr. Ross says.

“It's a netted mask that keeps flies off horses,” Becca explains. “It's trimmed in leather and sparkly stones. It means a lot to a sick old lady and was mistakenly donated to the drama club. We think Izzy may have borrowed it from the drama club.”

“I can't imagine why she'd want a horse mask when she has a room full of toys. But go ahead and ask her while I grade papers.” He gestures to papers stacked on the coffee table. “My wife isn't the only teacher in the family.”

Footsteps fade off screen to be replaced with angelic blue eyes. I hear Becca saying, “Izzy, that's a very pretty doll.”

“She's mine. Her name is Rayann,” says a high-pitched voice.

“I liked to play with dolls when I was your age,” Becca says sweetly. “Sometimes I'd dress them up. Do you ever dress up your dolls in sparkly clothes?”

The blue eyes narrow shrewdly. “Maybe.”

Becca keeps talking to Izzy about dolls and clothes, leading up to the topic of the fly mask. But this little girl is too smart. She knows exactly what Becca wants—and she's not going to cooperate.

I gesture to the angel-faced girl on the screen. “She has the fly mask but she won't give it up,” I tell Leo.

Leo looks at me, surprised. “How do you know?”

“From the stubborn way she said the doll was ‘mine.' I recognize that attitude because I was stubborn like her when I was little. She will never give us the mask.”

“So how do we get it?” Leo asks.

“We have to find it first, then figure that out.”

“Oh.” Leo frowns. “Where do you think she keeps it?”

“In her bedroom. I think it's that room.” I point to the second story, where pink curtains flutter in a screened window. “Only how can we get up there?”

“We won't have to.” Leo's eyes gleam. “My dragon drone will do it for us.”

Chapter 13

Dragon Flying

Leo sets down the phone, so I can't hear what's happening inside the house. We're both focused on the second-story pink-curtained room.

“I've been waiting for a chance to try out my new surveillance tool,” Leo explains as he reaches for the leather pouch he carries instead of a backpack.

“A new drone?” I ask.

“Affirmative. It's so small, it makes my bird-drone look like a pterodactyl.” He reaches into his backpack and pulls out a silver-winged insect.

“Cool!” The robot is tinier than a thumb. It looks so real, like it could flutter into flight if startled. But up close, I can see it's a robot—metallic with large, translucent, brown wings and glassy eyes that I guess are some sort of video camera.

“Want to see my dragon drone in action?” Leo asks as he holds a remote control in one hand and the drone in the other. He clicks the remote. Glassy eyes flash like headlights, and there's a high squeal of energy. The finger-sized wings whirl until they're spinning so fast I can't see them anymore—and then it takes off!

The dragon drone zooms over our heads and past the huge oak tree, up to the second-floor room with the open pink curtains. The glass window is open, but the screen keeps insects—even metal ones!—from getting into the room.

Leo operates the remote so the dragon drone flies back and forth in front of the window. It nearly crashes into the window screen, but Leo jerks back on the remote in time. The drone soars through leaves and has a close call with a tree branch.
Watch out!
I think but don't say, since we don't want to attract attention and a family with toddlers just entered the nearby playground.

When the tiny spy swoops back to the window, I let out the deep breath I've been holding. He made it!

“The camera is recording everything in the room,” Leo explains. “When it comes back, I'll connect it to my phone, and we'll see photos of the room.”

“Cool.” I glance back at the phone as I hear Becca's frustrated voice cry, “Izzy, you must have seen the fly mask.”

“No, no, no,” Izzy says.

Stubborn little girl
, I think. Then I switch my gaze back to the remote-controlled robot. The dragon drone spirals away from the window, winging its way back to us. Once it reaches the park, it hovers over our heads, then plummets like it's going to smash on the sidewalk—but Leo reaches out to catch it in one hand.

“Safe!” He hits a button on the drone, and the dragon mouth pops open. Leo takes out a dime-sized disk from the jagged-toothed mouth, then fits it inside something that looks like an electric plug attached to his phone. Izzy's whining voice coming from the phone ends abruptly as the dragon-drone data is downloaded into the phone.

When the download ends, the phone shows a view of trees and pink curtains. The drone view draws closer, up to the window screen. Izzy's room is right out of a decorating magazine. Everything is perfectly matched, from the cotton candy–pink carpet to the antique-white furniture. A princess bed with a lacy canopy, castle-shaped toy box, glass cabinet of dolls, and stuffed animals on a shelf are perfectly arranged for display, rather than toys to be played with. The only thing out of place is a Raggedy Andy doll on her purple comforter. He's propped up against pillows—but instead of wearing the usual red-checkered clothes, his cloth arms stick out through a netted vest trimmed in purple and black jewels.

We've found the fly mask.

But how do we get it?

An idea pops into my head, and there's no time to waste.

“Leo, I can get the mask, but I need you inside the house with Becca,” I say urgently. “Make up some excuse to get inside.”

He shakes his head. “I'm not good at lying.”

“Go to the door and say you can't wait any longer for Becca because you need to go to the bathroom.”

“I don't need to use the bathroom.”

I reach down to the ground, rub my hand in the dirt, then smear the dirt all over Leo's hand.

“Kelsey!” He jumps away from me with shock. “Why'd you do that?”

“Now you need to use the bathroom to wash your hands. No lying required,” I say smugly. “After you wash your hands, tell Becca to keep Izzy distracted. Do
not
let Izzy go upstairs.”

“What are you going to do?” he asks uneasily.

“Climb that oak.” I point up. “When I reach that big branch, I'll cross it to Izzy's window. I'll pry open the screen, sneak inside, and take back the fly mask.”

“That's a really high tree.”

“I've been climbing trees since I was little.”

“Take this.” With his clean hand, he offers me his phone. The screen is back on Izzy, and I hear Becca pleading with her to show her the fly mask. “Kelsey, keep this with you, so you can hear what's going on. Good luck,” Leo says, then hurries across the street.

Making sure our bikes are locked, I leave them by the bench, then cross the street to the Ross house. I take off my spy pack and hide it behind a camellia bush and look up, up, up at the tree. The tree is really, really tall. And I'm kind of short.

Still, I'm a good climber. I can do this … I hope.

The huge oak shades the yard, creating shadows to hide in as I reach for the lowest branch. It's high over my head, so I jump. I miss on the first and second tries but grab it on the third. I swing my legs up, then push myself around, so I'm straddling the branch. Standing like I'm walking a balance beam, I tiptoe along the branch until I'm close enough to reach for a higher branch. I grab and swing my feet—too far. I sail over the branch, but grab hold and land hard on my stomach. When I pull myself upright, I hear a rip. I groan at my “borrowed” leopard shirt. There's a tear down the side.

If I survive climbing this tree, my sisters are going to kill me.

But I'm not a quitter, so I keep going. I reach high for the next branch, grab, swing up, then repeat until I'm straddling the branch across from Izzy's window.

Unfortunately, this branch isn't as sturdy as the others. It wiggles as I inch out on it. I clasp my hands in front of me and move slowly.

From the phone in my pocket, I hear voices.

“Thanks for letting me use your restroom,” Leo is saying.

Izzy's shrill voice pipes up. “No, I don't like dolls or playing dress up.”

“What do you like?” Becca persists sweetly.

“Candy and fire engines and glitter wands.”

“I make glitter hair ties like this,” Becca says. “Would you like one?”

“No,” Izzy snaps. And in the background, I hear Leo asking for a glass of water.

I'm about a foot from the window. A leaf flutters down and snags in my hair. When I pull the leaf out, the limb wobbles. I hold tight as the limb bends like it's going to snap—which would send me tumbling down to the ground.

Please, don't break!
I think desperately.

The branch stops wobbling. I sigh with relief.

I'm just a hand reach from the window. So close! My fingertips brush the ledge. The window is open, so just a screen separates me from the room. In my old house, I sneaked into my sisters' room often, so had lots of practice prying open screens. But the branch is creaking …

I grasp the window ledge just as the branch snaps off. I hold tight by my fingertips. My feet dangle in the air.

Don't look below
, I warn myself. I'm not afraid of heights—in fact, I was really good at gymnastics, until my family couldn't pay for my classes anymore. But gymnastic equipment was never this high.

Focus on the window
.

The ledge is wider than it looked from below. Gripping tight, I swing one leg up, then the other.

Safe!

Slowly, I straighten till I'm standing on the ledge against the window.

From up here, I can see the street with an occasional car driving past and the park where more kids have come to the playground, their parents watching from benches. The bench we sat on is closer to the street, our bikes safely locked to a rack. Everything is in miniature from this viewpoint

I make the mistake of looking straight down to the ground.

It's a long way to fall—but falling is not an option. I can do this. I focus on the window. I shut out everything else. Queasiness fades and I'm back in control.

I don't need Leo's key spider to break into this window. Screens make it so easy, and there are no locks to slow me down (probably because they don't expect anyone to climb up to a second-story window).

I pry open one corner of the screen, then the other, until the whole screen pops out, and I push it inside the room—then follow.

The cotton-candy carpet is so soft, my feet make no sound as I walk over to the bed.

Raggedy Andy gives me a blank, button-eyed stare as I lift him and take the mask (which he wears like an apron) off his arms.

Yay! I've found the fly mask. It's made of sturdy black netting, tawny leather, and trimmed at the bottom in black and purple jewels. The purple stones sparkle like real jewels, but the smaller black stones don't even shine. There's an empty spot for the largest stone—the blue one Leo found that we gave to Caleb.

From the phone, I hear a cry from Becca, “No! Not upstairs!”

I snap to alertness. Time to leave!

I run to the window, climb out on the ledge, then snap the window screen back into place.

Getting down the tree is much quicker than going up, though it's scary reaching for the nearest sturdy branch. I climb from branch to branch until I let go with a jump.

Picking up my spy pack, I slip it over my shoulders.

I hurry across the street, holding tight to the fly mask.

Chapter 14

Ditzy Dog