Case of the Time-Capsule Bandit Read online

  “Little sister,” Randi whispered. She read the rest of the definition: An affectionate term for a younger friend. Then she tossed the note into the wastebasket, slipped into a pair of jeans, and ran her fingers through her tangled curls.

  ~ ~ ~ ~

  After Randi’s bed was made, her laundry separated, and the rest of her chores finished, she grabbed her fedora and hurried downstairs. The aroma of freshly brewed coffee, hot cocoa, and bacon filled the air. The house was cool and quiet except for the sounds of Mei-Ling preparing breakfast in the kitchen and her father typing away in his office.

  She found Mei-Ling standing at the kitchen counter and cracking eggs into a bowl.

  “Ni hao, Miranda. I’m making American-style hotcakes. You like hotcakes?”

  “I saw you in the front yard. How long have you been doing Tai Chi?”

  Mei-Ling continued mixing the pancake batter. “I learned in Hong Kong when I was young. I started training again a few years ago, when my husband died. It helped me with my grief. They say it is very good for the body and mind.” She paused and looked up at Randi. “If you want, I could teach you.”

  “No thanks.” Randi checked her watch. It was already eight forty-five. Where’s D.C.? She pulled out a stool and sat at the island while Mei-Ling served her a plate of pancakes and some hot chocolate. Randi stared blankly into the cup and then hesitantly took a sip. It was warm and creamy and tasted a bit like cinnamon. Although Randi hated to admit it, the stuff was delicious. She settled in and took a bite of the pancakes.

  Mei-Ling hummed and ladled more batter onto the griddle. A bleary-eyed Herb walked into the kitchen with an empty coffee mug. “Good morning,” he said, half yawning as he pecked Randi on the forehead. “Mei-Ling.”

  “Ni hao, Herb. Would you like some breakfast?”

  “Smells great,” said Herb. “We haven’t had pancakes in a while, have we, kiddo? Thanks, Mei-Ling. I’ll take it back to the office.”

  Mei-Ling flipped a batch of pancakes with cheflike precision and placed them on a plate for Herb.

  Randi saw the weariness in her father’s every movement. His eyes were puffy with dark circles underneath, which made him look much older than forty. She could tell that he’d pulled an all-nighter.

  “You look tired, Dad,” she said, trying to sound casual. Can he be writing again? she thought.

  “I’ve had a lot on my mind lately. Listen, sweetie, about yesterday. I should have told you I’d moved your mother’s paintings to the cellar. But putting a few of her things in storage doesn’t mean we’ll lose her forever. Remember, she’s the angel on our shoulders now. She’ll always be with us.”

  “I know,” said Randi, avoiding his eyes. Herb replied with a tweak of her nose, then retreated to his office.

  Mei-Ling smiled and wiped down the kitchen counters. Randi watched him go and checked her watch again. Still no sign of D.C. Has he given up? Is that why he’s not here?

  She started for the door, but turned back to Mei-Ling, “Thanks for the pancakes,” she mumbled quickly, and ran out.

  Upstairs, Randi grabbed a book from the shelf in her bedroom. The previous day had been tough for D.C. As each hour ticked past, he and his mom got a little bit closer to losing their home. Randi could understand why someone might feel a bit hopeless in his situation. If D.C. needed a confidence boost, she knew just what to give him. With the book in one hand, she dug through her closet in search of the special dobok her mother had bought after Randi’s first big competition. The martial arts uniform was hanging in the back behind her winter coats. Randi had outgrown it, but she hadn’t had the heart to give it away. Now she dusted it off and wrapped it, along with the book, in brown paper. Then she crammed the bundle into her backpack and darted back down the stairs.

  ~ ~ ~ ~

  The sheriff’s cruiser was parked in D.C.’s front yard when Randi rode up on her bike. D.C.’s mom stood barefoot at the top of the front steps with her thumbs tucked into the pockets of her ripped jeans. From a distance, she looked tough, like a rock star or a motorcycle chick. When Randi got closer, she could tell from the woman’s bloodshot eyes that she’d been crying.

  Dean Sutton waited by the cruiser as the sheriff delivered an orange piece of paper to D.C.’s mother.

  “You said a week!” Mrs. Cruz yelled at Sutton. She snatched the paper out of the sheriff’s hands.

  “Now that it looks certain the festival will be postponed, I’m afraid that you aren’t going to be able to make the back payments,” the banker informed her.

  “The festival hasn’t been canceled yet,” said Mrs. Cruz. “We still have until midnight, right, Sheriff?”

  “That’s right, ma’am,” Sheriff Ogle confirmed, shooting Dean Sutton a disgusted look.

  “Please try to understand the bank’s position, Mrs. Cruz. We’ve done just about all we can do. Our hands are tied,” Sutton said, almost sounding sincere. “However, given the circumstances, the bank is prepared to give you until the end of the week to vacate the premises.”

  “But we don’t have anywhere to go!” cried Mrs. Cruz. She plopped down on the front steps, tears streaming down her face.

  Randi spotted D.C. crouching behind the porch. When their eyes met, he took off through the orchard. She chased after him on her bike.

  When she caught up with him, D.C. was standing at the base of the lookout tree, taking his frustration out on a fallen branch but failing miserably at his attempt to break it. He angrily kicked the limb aside and took a deep puff on his inhaler.

  “It’s gonna be okay,” Randi tried to assure him.

  “I don’t wanna talk about it.” He gave the branch another kick.

  “Remember—you’ve gotta become like water,” Randi said.

  “What?” D.C. asked, annoyed.

  “You’re thinking too much about breaking the branch. Empty your mind and your moves will flow like water.”

  “That’s stupid,” snapped D.C.

  “I wasn’t the one who came up with it,” said Randi, setting the package at his feet. “Look, the way I see it, we have to find that time capsule now.”

  “Sure,” said D.C. sarcastically.

  “If we find it, the president will come and the mayor won’t cancel the festival. You won’t have to move. And we can be best friends forever.”

  “We’re not going to find it, Randi! We’re just a couple of dumb kids.”

  “That’s exactly what you’re acting like. A dumb kid.” Randi headed to the hideout door. “If you wanna help, I’ll be inside reviewing the case. And just so you know, Bruce Lee was never a quitter.”

  Peeping through a hole in the hideout’s wall, she saw D.C. stare down at the package she’d left at his feet. Then he picked it up and ripped off the wrapping paper. Inside was the dobok, a black belt, and a book called The Warrior Within: The Philosophies of Bruce Lee. Randi giggled when she saw D.C.’s jaw drop. He flipped through the book and stopped at a page she’d marked. She remembered the words she’d highlighted. Empty your mind. Be formless. Shapeless. Like water.

  A newly inspired D.C. walked into the hideout and got to work. While Randi pinned a large sheet of paper to one wall, he unloaded her detective kit.

  “So what’s next?” he asked.

  Randi smiled and took a Magic Marker out of her backpack and began to make notes. “We know the time capsule is missing. We know it was taken the day the monument was moved. Angus McCarthy and Dean Sutton are our two prime suspects. McCarthy’s motive is revenge. Sutton’s motive is greed.”

  “You got that one right,” D.C. said with an angry sneer.

  “And there might be a link between our two suspects. Angus McCarthy’s mad that he had to sell his dad’s old cabin at Rock Hollow. The Boston businessman who bought the cabin is in town, and we’ve seen him in the company of Dean Sutton.”

  “Do you think McCarthy and Sutton are working together to ruin Deer Creek?” D.C. asked.

  “I don’t know,” Randi admitted. “All
I know is that everything seems to be connected to Rock Hollow. The capsule disappeared when Angus McCarthy set a skunk loose on the mayor. You know why Angus McCarthy hates Mayor Landers? My dad said Angus once accused the mayor of stealing something out of Toot’s cabin . . . in Rock Hollow.”

  “And there have definitely been a few people snooping around up there lately.”

  “And at least one person pretending to be a ghost.”

  Randi sat down on the floor and stared up at the notes she’d made.

  “I think we should have another look at the evidence we collected at Rock Hollow the other day.”

  D.C. dragged a box out from under the hideout’s table. He passed the evidence to Randi piece by piece. A plastic Baggie filled with cat hair. The tape they’d used to lift the impression left by the ghost’s boots. And the cast of a paw print made by a fat feline with six toes.

  “Hey, how ’bout that!” D.C. said, grabbing a magnifying glass for a closer look at the cast. He passed the glass to Randi. Glittery, brassy specks were embedded in the plaster. “It’s the same stuff Pumpkin had all over his fur when we found him.”

  “Sheriff Ogle told me it was mica. I guess it’s a pretty common mineral around here.”

  “Common enough for a cat to be covered in it? Remember how Pumpkin sparkled when we found him?”

  “Interesting point,” Randi said. “Where could Pumpkin have come across that much mica? And why was someone trying to catch him? Remember that wail we heard? And the puddle of pee Pumpkin left in the corner of the cabin? Someone must have scared him pretty bad.”

  “But what would someone want with that dumb old cat?” D.C. said, his enthusiasm beginning to dwindle. “And what does any of this have to do with the time capsule?”

  “You’ve got me,” said Randi. “Rock Hollow seems to be at the center of the mystery, but I feel like we’re missing something important.”

  “I say we check out Dean Sutton,” D.C. said. “Why is he here at my house with an eviction notice before the official deadline? How come he’s so sure that the time capsule won’t be found? He knows something—I’d bet anything on it. The question is what?”

  “That’s what we have to find out. Here’s the plan.”

  * * *

  Go to Appendix F to complete the Ninja Task!

  * * *

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  * * *

  LAST RESORT

  Randi and D.C. slipped inside the Deer Creek Bank and scanned the lobby. Like most businesses in town, the bank was practically empty. And if the time capsule wasn’t recovered by midnight, the other businesses in Deer Creek were likely to stay that way.

  “Three tellers. Two older ladies counting cash. One younger teller waiting on customers,” Randi observed through clenched teeth.

  D.C. leaned in to Randi and whispered, “What if this doesn’t work?”

  “It will,” she assured him. “You keep that young teller busy. I’ll look for Sutton’s office and see if there’s a way to slip inside.”

  The pretty, young teller waved D.C. over.

  Randi whispered, “Implementing Phase One,” as they crossed the room.

  While D.C. passed a plastic bag filled with loose change to the woman, Randi took in the lobby and its furnishings. She’d never set foot in the bank for fear of running into Dean Sutton’s daughter Amber-Grace. The room’s low ceiling made her feel claustrophobic. It was decorated in garish reds, accented in yellows, and completely overfurnished. Just like Amber-Grace—small, stuffed, and heavily painted.

  Randi chuckled to herself. Then she instantly stopped when she spied Dean Sutton sitting behind the desk in a glass-walled office nearby. The Boston businessman was seated across from him. Randi tried to get D.C.’s attention, but he was too busy making eyes at the teller.

  “Ten, twenty, twenty-five, twenty-five dollars and thirteen cents,” the pretty blonde counted, placing the money in D.C.’s hand. “You sure had a lot of change! Is there anything else you need, cutie?”

  “No thanks,” he replied sheepishly.

  “That’s a lot of money for a little boy.” The teller reached down and tousled his dark hair. “You’re so adorable! How old are you?”

  “Twelve,” D.C. said, his face turning crimson.

  “Really? I would’ve guessed nine. You’re almost the same age as my younger sister. Amber-Grace just turned thirteen and thinks she rules the world,” the pretty teller said with a smile. “Don’t spend all that cash in one place!”

  Randi was amazed to discover a pleasant member of the Sutton family, but as D.C. approached, she could hear him grumbling. He wasn’t exactly flattered that the woman had called him little.

  “Hey, have a look at what the cat dragged in,” Randi said, discreetly pointing toward the office.

  “It’s Sutton and that businessman! Told ya this was a good idea,” D.C. bragged. It had taken half an hour to convince Randi that they might uncover a few clues at the bank.

  “No joke,” Randi whispered. “Take a peek at the front door. I think we just hit the jackpot!”

  Grouchy old Angus McCarthy had entered the bank. He didn’t even glance at the kids as he slowly made his way back to Dean Sutton’s office. He was favoring his left leg and using a hickory branch as a cane.

  “McCarthy’s limping!” D.C. gasped. “He wasn’t limping when we saw him by his mailbox yesterday afternoon! He must have hurt his leg sometime after that! Do you think he could be the person I kicked in the cabin? Am I really strong enough to hobble a guy? I’m not even five foot one!”

  “So what? Bruce Lee was the greatest Kung Fu star of all time, and he was only five foot seven,” Randi noted.

  “Then maybe Angus is the man that I kicked!”

  “If so, we know who’s been haunting Rock Hollow,” Randi said. “What we don’t know is why.” She watched the three men in Dean Sutton’s office greet one another. “I sure wish I knew what they were saying.”

  “I think this is where I take over,” D.C. said. “Come with me.”

  They inched toward the glass doors and stopped by the copy machine—a safe enough distance to watch without being spotted.

  “Sutton just told them he’s been authorized to double the offer,” D.C. said. “He said both you gentlemen stand to make a killing.”

  “Whoa! How did you just do that?” Randi asked in astonishment.

  “I read lips. I was born a couple of months too early. That’s why I have problems with my lungs and my ears. The hearing aids weren’t as good when I was little, so I had to teach myself how to read lips.”

  “That’s so cool!” Randi marveled.

  “You really think so?” D.C. asked.

  “Yeah. It’s like you have a superpower or something,” Randi said. She craned her neck to get a better view of the office. “I wonder what kind of deal they’re making.”

  One of the older tellers passed by with a stack of folders in her arms. When she saw the kids, she stopped and gave them a puzzled look. “Can I help you?”

  “Uh . . . uh,” D.C. stammered while Randi searched her brain for an excuse.

  The matronly teller looked them over. “If you don’t have any business here, I’m afraid I’ll have to ask you to leave,” she said. “And the next time you come, please bring a parent.”

  Randi shot a desperate look toward Sutton’s office. The mission was falling apart right before her very eyes.

  “They’re with me,” said a voice.

  Suddenly the teller was all smiles. “Of course!” she said. “Just let me know if I can get you kids anything!”

  Randi wheeled around to find the businessman’s son standing behind her. He was wearing his Boston Red Sox hat and a different pair of expensive jeans. She hadn’t noticed how tall he was when he’d helped her up after her fall. He was about four inches taller than Randi, which meant he had at least eight on D.C.

  “How’s your leg?” he asked Randi.

  “Better,” she said with a grin. “
Thanks for helping me the other day. I’m Randi. This is D.C.”

  “No problem,” the boy said. “I’m Pudge Taylor.”

  “Pudge?” Randi asked. The kid was as thin as a reed.

  “It’s supposed to be funny. You know, like calling a big guy Slim or a tall guy Shorty. So what are you two doing here? Is this what kids do for fun in Deer Creek? Hang out at the bank?”

  “What else is there to do?” Randi said with a nervous laugh. How could she tell Pudge they had been spying on his father? “Why are you here?”

  “Good question,” Pudge grumbled, his expression turning dark. “I just go wherever my dad drags me.”

  “Is he the man in there talking to Mr. Sutton and Mr. McCarthy?” Randi asked, playing dumb.

  “Yeah. That’s all they’ve been doing since we got here. Talk, talk, talk.”

  “What are they talking about?” D.C. asked, and Randi winced. The question sounded awfully nosy. Pudge didn’t seem to mind, though.

  “My guess is it has something to do with the big resort that’s going up.”

  “Resort?” Randi asked.

  “My dad’s mentioned it a few times. Then I spotted this in a wastebin next to the copy machine.” Pudge reached into a pocket and pulled out a crumpled brochure. It opened up to a map of a town that looked a lot like Deer Creek. But the businesses surrounding the town square had new names—and the vacation cottages and riverfront properties were completely gone. Rock Hollow was an “outdoor sports complex.” And D.C.’s orchard had been replaced by what looked like a hotel resort, complete with a golf course. A label at the bottom of the map read, DEER CREEK RESORT . . . WHERE CATFISH IS KING!

  D.C. gasped. “This is terrible! We’ve got to stop this!”

  Pudge scowled and snatched the flyer back. “Are you kidding? This resort is the best thing that could possibly happen. You try to stop it, and you’ll have to answer to me.”