Tiger in Trouble (18 page)

“I imagine I might be able to find time. Tell you what, I’ll do you a favour and come and get it right now.”

“By yourself?” I needed her husband to leave the house, too. “It’s a big package, a really big package, and it’ll take more than one person to move it to your vehicle.”

“And why can’t somebody there help me?” she demanded.

“I guess we could try, but I’m not very big, and it’s a very heavy package. I tried to move it and I was afraid I might drop it.”

That explanation sounded stupid but I couldn’t think of anything else to say.

She sighed heavily. “Very well. I’ll be there shortly, and I’ll bring my husband along, but I want to tell you that he won’t be happy about this, not one bit. Is your manager, Mr. Hartley, still there? I’d like to talk to him.”

What was I going to do now?

“Is he there?” she asked again.

“I’ll check.”

I moved the phone away from my face, pressing my other hand tightly against the receiver so she couldn’t hear anything. I pushed open the door of the pay phone. Nick, Mr. McCurdy, Vladimir and I had driven in Mr. McCurdy’s car to the closest gas station and phone. Samantha and Danny had stayed behind — Danny to stay inside and watch Calvin and Samantha by the tiger’s pen, just in case.

“She wants to speak to the manager!” I whispered.

“Why does she want to do that?” Mr. McCurdy asked.

“To complain.”

“Boss wife always complain,” Vladimir said. “Nothing is ever right with that woman.”

“But what do I do?”

“I could pretend to be the manager,” Mr. McCurdy said.

“No good. I think she knows him, so she’ll know you’re not him.”

“Just say he’s not there right now,” Nick said. “Tell her that he’s stepped out for a while, but he’ll be back when she gets there.”

“That’s good,” I said, nodding. “Fast thinking.”

“Thanks, but not nearly as fast as you,” he said. “Have you been listening to yourself? You’ve been great.”

Nick complimenting me was perhaps the biggest shock of the whole week, but come to think of it, I had been pretty good.

I brought the phone back up to my face. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Armstrong, but he’s not in right now. He stepped out for a minute, but he’ll be back by the time you get here. I’ll take care of all the paperwork so you can just drop right in and get it. Thank you.”

“Yes. I’ll see you shortly,” she said, and the line went dead.

“That was great, Sarah,” Mr. McCurdy said.

“Big girl Sarah very tricky,” Vladimir agreed.

“So what do we do now?” Nick asked.

“We get back as fast as we can,” I said.

We jumped into Mr. McCurdy’s car. No sooner had the doors closed than Mr. McCurdy squealed away, and we raced back toward the park.

“As soon as they leave, we all get moving as fast as we can,” I said.

“That’s right,” Mr. McCurdy said. “Vladimir and I are going to go over and check on Kushna. I want to have a chance to examine him, and I can’t risk that while they’re still around the park. It would be hard to explain if they saw me with him after hours.”

“We can go into the cage if you want,” Vladimir said.

“I do. Can’t tell much about a tiger from the outside.”

“And while they’re in with the tiger we’ll be searching the Armstrongs’ house,” I said.

“I still can’t believe we’re going to break into their house,” Nick said.

“We won’t have to break in, I hope. The back door was open the last time.” I paused. “I didn’t think you’d have a problem with that.”

“No problem, but I’m just a little surprised … You know, Sarah, you’re starting to be scary again. Scary, but cool.”

“Hopefully we won’t have to wait too long before —”

No sooner had I spoken than I saw their fancy car coming down the road toward us.

“Everybody down!” I screamed.

Nick, Vladimir and I ducked as their car came by and passed us!

“How much time do we have?” I asked.

“Depends on speed. It takes me twenty minutes each way in my van,” said Vladimir.

“Does that include the time it takes to start it and push when it stalls?” Nick asked.

Vladimir smiled. “Big fancy car will move faster. Maybe thirty minutes for the trip and ten minutes in the store to argue with people. Maybe longer. Boss lady like to argue. We all better go.”

•

I turned the knob and opened the kitchen door. Thank goodness it was open. We walked into the kitchen. The light over the table was on, and the dishwasher was humming, the little red light glowing at me.

“That was lucky,” Nick said. “What were you going to do if the door wasn’t open?”

“Keep your voice down,” I warned him.

“Why? There’s nobody here to hear us.”

“I know. I just think that …”

Nick smirked.

“Oh, shut up!”

“I didn’t say a word,” Nick said. “Where do we start?”

“I was thinking his office.”

“Good plan. I was hoping to go in there. I thought we could turn on the big-screen TV while we’re searching.”

“Don’t even think about it,” I warned.

We quickly moved down the hall to the closed door of the office. I heard a voice coming through the door, and for a split second I panicked. Then I heard a second voice, and a third. It was the TV. I opened the door. The TV was on and blasting. There was a baseball game on.

“I guess I do get to watch TV,” Nick said.

“You can listen to it, but I need you to have your eyes looking elsewhere. Don’t forget what we’re here for, and that we don’t have much time.” I walked over to the TV and turned the volume way down.

“I thought you said I could listen to it.”

“You still can. Just keep your head focused on why we’re here.”

“I’ll remember.”

“Let’s start with the desk.”

“What exactly are we looking for again?” Nick asked.

“I’m not exactly sure. Something to do with the sale of the tiger. Maybe a receipt, or a bill of sale, or a letter —”

“Or an e-mail?” Nick asked.

“Sure, an e-mail, whatever.”

“He was on that computer the first time we met him,” Nick said.

“And he told me he was going back to search for a buyer for the fawns on the Net. You keep checking the desk. I’ll check out the computer.”

I moved over and took a seat in front of the computer. When I tapped on the keyboard, the screen lit up — it had been on standby. That was lucky. I recognized the program. It was the same one that was on my computer at home, as well as on all the computers at school. Quickly I scrolled up with the mouse, looking for the e-mail program. I flashed through the various programs until I found it. Then I clicked, and it came up on the screen. “Okay, this is good … very good,” I mumbled to myself.

“Did you find something?” Nick asked.

“Nothing we can use, but I can access all his messages by just —” I clicked the mouse “— doing that.” The in-box opened, and there were a slew of messages. “I’ll start looking. You having any luck?”

“What?” he asked.

“Luck? Have you found anything?”

“Not yet, but my team is up by three runs,” he said, pointing at the screen.

I shot him a dirty look. “Keep searching … or else.”

I started to look through the messages and —

“I’ve got it!” I almost screamed.

“Let me see,” Nick said as he abandoned the search of the desk and crowded in over my shoulder.

I scrolled down the letter. It was from a man named Emanuel, and it sounded as if he was the guy who had been here the night before, the guy who wanted to buy and butcher Kushna.

“The e-mail refers to things, but doesn’t discuss them in much detail other than it being a sale,” I said. “It’s like walking in partway through a conversation.”

“Look at the e-mail address and then look back through the in-box to see what else he’s sent in other e-mails,” Nick suggested.

I minimized the letter, and the in-box jumped back onto the screen. When I scrolled up, there was another letter from that address, and another, and another, and another. Every third e-mail seemed to be from this Emanuel guy. I kept scrolling up. It just went on and on.

“I can’t check these all out. There isn’t time.”

“We don’t have to check them all right now,” Nick said. “Just print them. We can read them later, and if they say the things we need, we’ve got a copy in black and white.”

“That’s smart.”

“What can I say?” Nick asked.

“Hopefully nothing for a change. Turn on the printer.”

Nick reached over and flicked the switch on the side of the machine. It burped, clicked, whirred and then came to life.

“I’m going to start with the most recent e-mail and work my way backwards,” I said.

I hit the print icon, and the first e-mail was sent to the printer. Without delay I printed the next and the next.

“Do we still have enough time?” Nick asked.

I looked at my watch. It had been almost twenty-five minutes since we’d passed the Armstrongs on the road. We still had at least fifteen more minutes before they returned. I just had to keep the e-mails spitting out of the printer, and we’d be long gone before they returned.

“I have to hand it to you, Sarah,” Nick said.

I gave him a questioning look.

“You’ve handled all this fantastically.”

I waited for the insult that was sure to follow. “And?” I asked, wanting him to get it over with. “Aren’t you going to finish that sentence with an insult?”

“Nope. Nothing more to say. You’ve been really good … of course really bossy, too, like always, but this time you’ve always had a plan, so I didn’t even mind being bossed around that much.”

“Thanks … I think.”

Nick was starting to look as nervous as I felt.

“It won’t take much longer,” I said.

“We really have to get out of here,” he said.

“I just have to get the last e-mails off the printer. I’ve already sent them and they’re printing. We can’t just walk away and leave them. We have to make it look as if nobody’s been here. As soon as the last letter prints, I’ll shut down the system and turn off the printer, and you make sure things are back in the desk —” I stopped, shocked at what I saw. The entire top of the desk was covered with things Nick had pulled out of the drawers in his search.

“We can’t until we put things back, or they’ll know somebody was here. Put all those things away, back into the drawers.”

“I don’t exactly know where it all goes,” Nick said frantically. “I can’t remember.”

“Just try. I’ll help you as soon as I close down the computer.”

“I don’t even know why he keeps most of that stuff. It’s just a lot of trash and —”

“Trash?” I questioned, cutting him off.

“Yeah, garbage.”

“That’s it, trash. I have to check the trash.”

“Sarah, we don’t have time to search the garbage cans now! We have to leave!”

“Not the garbage cans. The trash on the e-mail. If you were doing something that you didn’t want Mom to see, wouldn’t you trash it?”

“I guess so, but we have to leave.”

“Look, Nick, I’m not leaving until it’s all put away. You can argue or you can help. Which is it going to be?”

I clicked on the trash bin. There was only one e-mail. I was just about to open it when I heard the sound of a car. I looked up at Nick. The expression on his face left no doubt he’d heard it, too, and his heart had also jumped into his throat.

“Just finish up!” I practically yelled.

I clicked on the print button. Whatever that trashed message was would print. Nick started to sweep things off the desk and into drawers. That certainly couldn’t be exactly where he had found them, but anything was better than stuff sitting on top.

“Come on, come on,” I said to the printer, encouraging it to print faster.

“I’m done,” Nick said.

“It’s almost finished printing. Turn the TV back up.”

The printer spit out the page. I pushed the off button at the same second Nick turned up the volume on the TV — it felt as if the two were somehow connected. I grabbed the sheet out of the printer tray and … the computer … I didn’t have time to shut it down properly. So I just pushed the power button, and the screen faded away.

“Come on, we’ll go out the back door.”

We raced out of the room. The door was open. I skidded to a stop and went back to close it.

“Hurry, Sarah!” Nick hissed.

I bounded after him and into the kitchen. We’d head out the back door just as they were coming in the front. The kitchen door opened. With the last pulse of blood through my heart before it stopped beating completely, I grabbed Nick and we dropped behind the kitchen table.

“It isn’t my fault!” Mrs. Armstrong protested as she walked through the doorway.

“Whose fault do you think it is then?” her husband asked as he followed her and slammed the door behind him.

“That stupid store and that horrid woman who called me.”

Look who was talking! Nick and I slid forward so that we were better hidden under the tablecloth, which hung down almost to the floor.

“Are you sure you got the name of the store right?” he demanded. “The sign on the door at Granville’s said it had been closed for two hours.”

“I know my stores.”

“That you certainly do. You know every store in the entire town.”

“Are you saying I shop too much?”

“‘If the shoe fits, buy it’ seems to be your motto.”

“Well, I never!” she huffed.

“Never what? Certainly never didn’t buy it? Have you ever met a shoe you didn’t like? Do you have any idea how many pairs of shoes you own?”

“I don’t count them, I wear them so —”

“One hundred and eighty-three pairs!”

“You’ve been counting my shoes?” she shrieked.

“There are some small countries where the whole population doesn’t own one hundred and eighty-three pairs of shoes between them!”

“I’m so glad you can count!” she snapped. “Do you know how many bedrooms this house has?”

“Well … three, of course.”

“Perfect number. One for me, one for you and one sitting empty between us. Good night!”

I heard her stomp out of the room.

“Honey, come on. I didn’t mean anything!”

I peeked out from under the table and saw his feet disappear down the hall.