The Diamond Mistake Mystery Page 10

  All we can see for a moment are big, caramel eyes staring. The lemur seems as curious about us as we are about him.

  “Give me that!” Mr. Kobai’s voice again.

  Suddenly, the world on the screen goes topsy-turvy. We see a hairy tummy and legs.

  “Come back here, you!” We hear Mr. Kobai’s voice. “Renée, Renée! The lemur has my iPad!”

  Now Mr. Kobai has a funny story.

  His voice fades. “Call you back tomorrow!”

  “Bye, Dad. Love you!”

  “I love you, too!” Even though his voice sounds soft, we know he has to be yelling it across the jungle for us to hear.

  The computer makes that little electronic ouch sound as Renée hangs up. I see Renée’s lip tremble and I know she is sad.

  I sigh. Maybe my biggest mistake, number eleven, was thinking of Mr. Kobai as a yeti. He actually seems really nice when he’s trapped inside a computer screen.

  Anyway, Renée misses her dad. Nothing I can do for her except … change the subject.

  “So, fancy French word for a drink in a restaurant?” The goal is to get Renée thinking about something else. I place Minnie’s tube down on my lap and flip open to the English half of the dictionary. “Found it. Right here.” I put my finger under the word apéritif. “Mmm, seems like it might just be for wine and drinks like that.” To double-check, I look up apéritif on the French side but I find another word near it that catches my eye. Août. “Hey, Renée, did you know août means August in French? It doesn’t sound like ouch either. You pronounce it ooute.”

  “Yeah, I guess. Who cares?” She’s crabby now but that’s way better than sad.

  “Hmm. Don’t know. Bothers me for some reason.”

  Renée frowns. “Know what bothers me? Star stealing Attila so he can’t help us with our costumes.” She’s annoyed with Star instead of me, even better.

  “Maybe he’s busy with Mr. Kowalski. Let’s just finish our menus for French class. Then when he does get back, we’ll be free to work on them all we want.” My eyes scroll the dictionary page again. “Geez, apéritif does mean ‘alcoholic beverage before dinner.’”

  “So what? On my menu it will be Du Lait au Chocolat.”

  “Mine will be Smoothie aux Fruits.”

  It takes forever to decide on mains and desserts, but Renée settles on Macaroni au Gratin and Éclair au Chocolat. I pick La Pizza Tout Garni and Crème Glacée avec un Morceau de Brownie.

  When we’re finally done, I’m hungry and Attila and Star are still not back.

  “Where are they?” Renée complains.

  “Don’t worry. Halloween’s not till Sunday.” We put the mice back in their cage and wash our hands at the laundry tub. “We can always wear last year’s costumes for the library party.”

  “But I don’t want to!” She stamps her foot.

  “What, am I talking to Pearl now?”

  Renée’s face turns red. “You’re right, I’m hangry.”

  Hungry and angry, never a good combination. “Let’s go eat something.” We head upstairs to the kitchen.

  She feels better once she finds some bagged two-bite brownies in the cupboard. “Et du syrop au chocolat.” She pulls down a container of chocolate sauce. “De la crème glacée!” She grabs a tub of extra creamy vanilla ice cream from the freezer.

  Mrs. Kobai steps into the kitchen and pulls herself back in shock. “What are you eating at this hour of the night?”

  “Stephen’s French homework,” Renée answers.

  Mrs. Kobai’s mouth drops open.

  “Want some?” Renée asks.

  Mrs. Kobai freezes for a moment. Thinking? Then something changes on her face. It’s like the sun comes out. “Mais oui,” she answers.

  I wasn’t expecting that.

  “But let me get us the whipped cream.” She grabs a spray can from the fridge.

  Our brownie sundaes look amazing. Mmm. Mrs. Kobai groans as she takes her first spoonful. Mmm. Mmm. No one talks till we’re all done.

  “I’m going to bed now,” Renée says.

  “Night night,” her mother says.

  She climbs the stairs to her bathroom, and I head for the one on the ground floor so we can each brush our teeth at the same time. Then I duck back into the office, which will be my bedroom, flip on the light, and carefully take down the scary African mask that stares down from the wall. I hide it under the coffin desk. After, I open the door of the office a crack so I can see some light from the bathroom. Then I shut the lamp in the office.

  As I lie, eyes closed, on the slightly hard futon, my brain starts jogging on a loop “Août, August, août, August.” I keep waiting for a connection to come to me. Instead, I fall asleep.

  DAY THREE, MISTAKE ONE

  Next morning, I get up to a super-quiet house and dress quickly. Then I sneak downstairs, past a sleeping Attila, into the laundry room. I take a cashew from the jar in the cupboard, bite off a half, open the cage, and hold one piece in front of Minnie’s paper towel roll. Mickey tries to grab it, of course, but he can’t get past my hand. Minnie sniffs my way. Her oil-drop eyes never blink. I gently lift the paper towel roll out of the cage. “It’s okay, girl,” I say softly. “You don’t have to come out. But it’s good to get over your fears. Makes you feel bigger inside. Just ask Mickey here.”

  “Just ask Mickey what?” a sleepy voice asks.

  “You’re up.” I turn to see Renée rub her eyes.

  “Yeah.” She yawns. “I wanted to work on our costumes for this afternoon. Can’t count on Attila, obviously.” She’s wearing neon-pink pants and a top with a pretty convincing cat face on it.

  “Is that it?” My eyebrows lift up all on their own.

  “Don’t be ridiculous. Does this look like Storm?”

  No, but anything Renée wears could fit into the costume category.

  At that moment I feel a gentle tug on the nut. “Minnie?” I watch as she pulls the cashew half away from my fingers. Despite my excitement, I keep my voice low. “You came out! What a brave girl.”

  Still staring at me, Minnie sits up, nut in her pink hands.

  “Eat it, it’s all yours.”

  She nibbles at it frantically.

  “Minnie’s out in the open. Wow.” Renée claps her hand on my back. “She must trust you.”

  “I wonder if she’d be afraid of a plane ride,” I say.

  “You planning a trip?” Renée asks.

  “Someday. I’d like to be able to visit Jessie.” If I could bring a peacock or a dog or Minnie as a comfort pet, I could handle the flight, I think.

  “Okay. Well.” She purses her lips. “For now, let’s grab some cereal and then get out and walk the dogs.”

  “Just a minute. Minnie needs to finish her treat.” I smile. Something so relaxing about just watching her chew, twittering nose and all. When she swallows the last bit, she darts back into her tube and I put the whole thing back in the cage.

  Mickey stands at the bars, watching us. Renée closes the cage. “Later, bro.” She gives him a tiny wave.

  Upstairs, she plunks two boxes of cereal on the table, oat flakes and raisin bran. “These okay?”

  I was hoping for pancakes, maybe with chocolate syrup and some of that canned whipped cream — memories of my French homework — but I nod and sit.

  She gets the milk, a couple of bowls, and spoons.

  The door bursts open from the basement and Attila stumbles in, slumping into a chair. “Star says you need help.”

  “With our costumes, yup,” Renée answers.

  Attila jingles his keys in front of us. “I have to drive Nagymama grocery shopping, shortly. The Goodwill store’s not far. Wanna come?”

  “With Grandma? But everything takes so much longer with her!” Renée dumps the two cereals in her bowl and mixes them roughly with her spoon. “We have to be back by eleven, latest.”

  “I’m in a rush, too,” Attila says. “I have a gig at the library.”

  Not even going to
worry what the gig is. Spray-painting a dragon or weapon on some public building, whatever. I pour myself only oats and milk. Raisins look too much like dead flies. Then something occurs to me … “What time is it? We have to walk the dogs first. Or I can do it by myself if there’s no time.”

  “Relax, kid, it’s nine o’clock. Want some juice?” Attila stumbles up again and pulls a carton of orange juice out of the fridge.

  “Yes, please.”

  Attila pours himself some raisin bran. No one talks for a while so I can hear the crunch, crunch of cereal against my teeth. The orange juice gives my whole mouth a little wake-up nip.

  Then the doorbell rings, making Attila jump. He lets Star in, and she carries a large orange bag full of what looks like clothes into the kitchen. “X-Men costumes as ordered.” She sets it in middle of the table, pulls out a white wig, and places it next to Renée’s bowl.

  “Storm’s hair,” she says. Next, she takes out yellow tights and a matching turtleneck and lays them near me. “Wolverine’s suit.” She empties the rest of the bag and beige half moons tumble out. “I think we can give you pecs and biceps with these pads.”

  “Thanks!” I say.

  “So, we still need a black bodysuit for Storm. And some boots,” Star says.

  “She can borrow my ninja suit,” Attila offers. “I don’t need it anymore and it shrunk in the wash anyway.”

  Those are both good things. Renée’s way smaller so the ninja suit may fit. And he’s not planning on stealing art or tagging some building in the middle of the night, or he’d need that all-black outfit.

  “Mom will have boots,” Renée says. “They may be a little big but I can stuff them.”

  “So we don’t have to go to the Goodwill store,” I say.

  “I still have to take Nagymama grocery shopping,” Attila says.

  “Your grandma sure is demanding,” Star grumbles. “We better get on that then, so I’m back in time for their makeup.” Star stuffs everything back into the orange bag.

  Makeup! Nobody said anything about makeup. That’s kind of a thing with me. When I was in kindergarten, someone painted a spiderweb on my face and it freaked me out. Never let anyone put makeup on me again …

  “Put this somewhere safe” — Star pushes her bag toward Renée — “or your mom may throw it out. Later, kiddies.” She gives a fluttery finger wave.

  Attila jumps up and heads to the door. “I’ll stow these in the hall closet for you.”

  “Bye,” Renée says.

  “Wait!” I call.

  “Yes?” Star flicks her head to get her hair out of her eyes.

  “Your earrings, they’re very pretty. Are they real?”

  Star scrunches up her face like a raisin. Is she angry with me? “What is real?” she asks finally. “Attila gave them to me and I like them.”

  I want to follow up by asking when, but I feel that may be a mistake.

  The door closes after her.

  “Well, she’s a lot nicer than you thought, right?” I ask Renée.

  “She came through on the Halloween gear, I’ll give her that.”

  My eyebrows lift — I can’t help it, they have a life of their own.

  “Oh, come on, Stephen. I know you count mistakes, and you think me not liking Star is one of them. But even if you think it’s a mistake, I can’t help it, I just don’t like Star.”

  “Mistake one of the day.”

  “Of the year, you mean! I haven’t liked her for way longer than just today. She always gets Attila in trouble. Which made Mom and Dad fight …”

  And split up, I finish in my head and frown.

  “You know what the real first mistake of the day is?” Renée sputters out.

  “No, but I think you’re going to tell me,” I say, eyebrows reaching even higher.

  “You telling people what their mistakes are.”

  DAY THREE, MISTAKE TWO

  I pointed out how nice it was of Star to get us all our Halloween gear mostly to help Renée. Whether she likes it or not, Attila keeps going out with Star. If she wants to stay close with her brother, she needs to make herself okay with his choice.

  But now she’s annoyed with me, so I guess it was a mistake. I carry the bowls, spoons, and glasses to the sink, hoping to get her over it. She loads them all, one by one, in the dishwasher. “Going to change,” she tells me when she’s done.

  “Okay, but I really like what you’re wearing now.” And I do. The cat eyes are large and green and follow me whatever I do.

  Renée’s eyes squeeze together hard like they’re trying to make lemon juice.

  “But sure. Change away.” As she heads up the stairs, my phone chimes: a text from my dad.

  Pearl is missing. Any ideas?

  Any ideas? Oh my gosh. This is a kid who thinks she’s a unicorn and looks for pirates when she’s supposed to be going to the bathroom. She could be anywhere! A worse thought hits me. She could have gone with someone. Anyone! I start to breathe heavier as I type.

  No idea. Will look for her when we walk Ping and Pong.

  “Renée,” I yell. “Hurry, we have to hunt for Pearl. She’s taken off again!”

  Renée thunders down the stairs. “How could she? She knows we have a party to go to.”

  We grab our jackets. “Not like she thinks these things through.”

  One hand on the doorknob, the other at her mouth, Renée calls out, “Mo-om!”

  Mrs. Kobai slip-slaps down the stairs in her robe, hair still wet from the shower.

  “We’re leaving. We need to look for Pearl!”

  “Oh my. The little girl is missing?”

  “Yup,” I answer. “She can’t have gotten far.” I hope.

  We wave goodbye and dash out.

  “Do you think Ping and Pong can help?” Renée says as we jog toward the Bennetts’ house.

  “They aren’t … bloodhounds.” I huff in between words. “Besides, she’s never been nice to them. Why would they want to?”

  We jog more slowly, scanning for Pearl behind bushes, Halloween tombstones, and scarecrows.

  “Where could she be, where could she be?” Renée worries to the beat of our steps. All the way to the Bennetts’ house.

  Inside, we try to hurry with the dogs’ leashes. That never works out well; we get tangled, and the dogs pull and give me leash burn. Renée accidentally steps on Pong’s paw and he yelps. Finally, we get them hitched and out the door.

  “How should we do this?” Renée asks. “Do you have anything of Pearl’s to sniff?”

  “No. That’s for bloodhounds!” I shake my head. “Let’s just head for the park. Check out the swings and slides.”

  Pong and Ping love the run, but Pong tugs me to a stop for a sniff at a fire hydrant.

  “Don’t pull at him. Let him take us where he wants to go,” Renée says. “Or they can’t help us.”

  “Pearl’s not hiding behind a fire hydrant!” Still, Renée makes a good point — she always does. I loosen my grip on the leash and slow down. That doesn’t help much. As always, both dogs make a beeline for Brant Hills, past where we used the metal detector for the ring, past the kindergarten fence.

  There’s one little kid alone on the playground swing, head bowed, legs dangling.

  “Pearl!” I yell.

  But when we draw closer, I see it isn’t her. The kid’s mother stands up from the bench nearby.

  “You didn’t see a little girl in a Wonder Woman jacket?” Renée asks the mom.

  “A couple of people have already asked me that,” she answers. “No, we haven’t. Hope you find her soon.”

  “Thanks.”

  Ping bows and barks and runs in half-circles around Renée. Pong prances, he’s so happy. We head for the library; I hold both dogs’ leashes while Renée checks inside, although we’re pretty sure someone else would have checked there by now, too. While I’m outside, Buddy the Rottweiler, drool flying, gallops my way.

  Where is his owner? Buddy is big and unfriendly. Pi
ng barks his dislike for Buddy with an edge of fear to his pitch. Pong lowers his tail and head, not a good sign. I frantically scoop up a hysterical Ping and wind Pong’s leash tightly around my fist.

  From behind the corner of the building, Buddy’s owner appears in her usual blinding-neon outfit — a Kiwi-coloured sweatsuit and clementine-coloured sneakers. “Oh, sorry!” She catches her breath for a moment. “Your dog not feeling like a visit today?”

  “Guess not,” I say through a clenched-teeth grin. Buddy usually snaps at Ping but I don’t remind her. Buddy is one of Dad’s clients, after all, and this lady also owns Rottweiler Cleaning Service, where Mrs. Klein works.

  Luckily, Renée steps out to help with Ping and Pong. “No sign of Pearl,” she says. She turns to the sweatsuit lady. “You haven’t by any chance seen a little girl wandering around, have you? Five years old, Wonder Woman jacket?”

  She snaps her fingers. “Yes, I did see a little Wonder Woman on Melissa Street. Looked like she was visiting one of the houses. I thought maybe her mom had just gone in ahead. She was afraid of Buddy, so I couldn’t get close enough to ask.”

  “Thanks,” Renée says. “Pearl is scared of dogs. We’ll check it out.”

  “Melissa Street,” I repeat, after Buddy and his owner leave. “It’s close, anyway.” I put Ping back on the ground and he sneaks in a quick face lick.

  Renée frowns. “But that’s where we heard that strange voice last night.”

  “What if someone has Pearl?” I whip out my cell phone. “Should we call for backup?”

  “All the kids wear Wonder Woman, though,” Renée says. “Maybe the kid just lives there.”

  “Could be the Lebels have even found Pearl by now.” I tuck my phone away.

  “Let’s just go,” Renée says. “Hold the leash nice and loose, though!”

  In the lead, Ping and Pong force us to jog to keep up.

  We turn onto Melissa Street. “I remember those tissue ghosts!” Renée points to the tree where they hang. “We’re close to where we heard those noises.”