The Diamond Mistake Mystery Read online

  “Ohhhh!” Mrs. Klein clasps her hands together in front of her face. “Maybe we can win a ring!”

  “Maybe pigs can swim,” Mr. Rupert grumbles as we join the lineup of people heading toward the tall black case.

  DAY THREE, MISTAKE TEN

  “Pretty sure pigs can swim,” Renée tells Mr. Rupert. “Check your phone, Stephen,” she says once we find ourselves a spot in front of Mrs. Lebel and the tall black case.

  I pull out my phone and tap the screen. There, I see the answer. Not to whether pigs can swim but as to why August knows the value of the Blushing Diamond. I don’t say anything about what I find. Instead, I duck down and flip away from the page that was still on my phone screen from my last search. I don’t want Mr. Rupert to see. He’ll make a big fuss and cause trouble.

  So I search “swimming pigs.” Of course, Renée is right. There’s a whole website dedicated to a beach in the Bahamas where wild pigs swim. I click on a video.

  Mrs. Klein leans over my shoulder. “Oh, that’s so cute, the pigs are doggy-paddling.”

  “It’s not dog-paddling. They’re just running in the water. Cats do it, too,” Mr. Rupert says.

  Whatever, the pigs are awesome. Still, my mind races over what I read on the Blushing Diamond page: the court dispute over the ownership and, more importantly, the names of the people fighting over it.

  I don’t know when she came in, but Mrs. Whittingham walks up to the front and stands beside us, placing her hands on August’s shoulders.

  “We didn’t know you were coming,” Renée says.

  Mrs. Whittingham turns to her. “Thanks for bringing him to the party.”

  I pull Renée back from Mrs. Whittingham and whisper into her ear. “August is Mrs. Whittingham’s maiden name.”

  “We already know that,” she whispers back.

  “The original owner of the Blushing Diamond was Walter August.”

  Renée gasps.

  “And Mr. Van Ooute is August’s uncle. Mrs. Whittingham’s brother!”

  Renée turns to me. “That was a brother-and-sister hug we saw!”

  “Yes. And Ooute is pronounced exactly the same way as août. Which is French for August.”

  “Your attention please,” Mr. Lebel’s raspy voice interrupts us. “We are about to unveil the Blushing Diamond.”

  I put my finger to my lips. “Shhh! We’ll talk after.”

  Mrs. Lebel smiles and looks out over the audience. “We want to show you a rare gem that my husband picked up fourteen years ago when we were on honeymoon in Vegas.”

  She holds out a blue velvet box. “Remember, beautiful gemstones are like fine art. They are difficult to validate. And the best pieces can disappear for long years. And then reappear in the strangest places.

  “The original owner of the Blushing Diamond placed it with a diamond broker for safekeeping. As his health failed, he then sold it to the broker. That was the last anyone heard of it.

  “When my husband, Robert, bought the ring from a gambler, we never dreamt it was the Blushing Diamond.” She opens the box and the audience gasps.

  A sparkling pale-pink diamond ring winks at us as Mrs. Lebel slowly sweeps the box around her.

  “Ladies and gentlemen, this is not the real Blushing Diamond. Does everyone have their tickets for the door prize? This is your chance to own this laboratory-crafted look-alike.”

  There’s a scramble as everyone looks in purses and pockets.

  “For those of you over nineteen who have not picked up a ticket, raise your hand. My daughter Ruby is coming around with extras. Please tear off one half and toss it in the hat.”

  Mr. Rupert’s and Mrs. Klein’s shoot up. Ruby weaves through the crowd, holding her black top hat and that roll of tickets. She tears two off for them, and they throw one half into the hat. Pirate Pete and Star hold their tickets in front of their faces, ready, with Attila looking over Star’s. Mr. Rogers and Ms. Lacey also each hold a numbered grey-and-white stub.

  “Wait a moment! I’m here and I have a ticket also,” Mr. Jirad calls as he runs toward us.

  “We need two tickets!” Harry Diamond calls, waving as he steps forward.

  “That takes care of almost all our suspects,” Renée whispers to me.

  “Yeah, they wouldn’t want to win a copy of the Blushing Diamond if they owned the real thing,” I agree.

  “Monsieur Van Ooute,” Mrs. Lebel calls to him, “would you do the honour, please?” She turns to Pearl’s sister. “Ruby, drum roll, please!”

  Ruby taps her phone screen and a drum sound effect plays. Mr. Van Ooute steps up to a black top hat full of tickets. He draws one and hands it to Mrs. Lebel.

  Meanwhile, I feel hot panting on the back of my leg. I turn and see Buddy the Rottweiler, who immediately jumps on me. I bump him down again and then pat his head. “Wish me luck,” his owner says to me.

  “Good luck.”

  Buddy’s eyes stare at my pocket. He’s hoping he can score another of Dad’s delicious dog treats, I bet. I turn back around.

  Mrs. Lebel holds the ticket at chest level and smiles at the audience. Then she reads the numbers slowly. “Four, two, five, six …” She pauses for drama, then continues quickly, “seven, eight, nine, three!”

  “Woo-hoo!” Arms waving, Mrs. Klein runs to the front.

  Behind me, Buddy barks. Mr. Rupert moves up beside us.

  “I’ve never won anything in my life before,” Mrs. Klein tells Mrs. Lebel as she throws her arms around her.

  Mrs. Lebel smiles, then shifts back to break away. “Try it on. We can resize it for you.” As Mrs. Klein slips it over her finger, Mrs. Lebel talks to the audience: “Lebel Jewellery can take care of repairs and appraisals as well as redesign and reset your heirloom pieces.”

  “It fits,” Mrs. Klein squeals, and she holds up her hand to show us all.

  Mrs. Lebel nods and continues: “And now, we will unveil the real Blushing Diamond to compare.” She yanks the white cloth from the case, and we can see an almost identical ring sitting there.

  Mr. Lebel steps up and unlocks the case. Then he holds up a black velvet stand with the other ring, high at eye level. It looks like a piece of sparkly candy. I can’t be the only one who thinks this because, just then, something knocks against my leg.

  “Oh no! Buddy!” He bounds ahead. “It’s not something to eat!”

  Too late. With one spectacular leap, Buddy snatches the diamond from the velvet stand in Mr. Lebel’s hand.

  Mr. Lebel bellows and dives for Buddy, who runs around the crowd and through the aisle.

  Buddy’s owner catches up to him now and grabs his leash. She stoops down. “He swallowed it. I’ll have to take him to the vet!”

  “Oh, no, you don’t,” Mr. Lebel argues. “At least not alone. I will accompany you to the animal hospital.”

  “Don’t worry! It’s not the real Blushing Diamond either,” Renée shouts out.

  She takes Mrs. Whittingham’s arm. “I think Ms. August can tell you where the real one is.”

  “What? I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Mrs. Whittingham says. “The Blushing Diamond belongs to my grandfather, but the matter is in courts now. I am waiting for it to be returned to us lawfully.”

  Renée made the biggest mistake of the day, number ten. I step forward to reveal the real truth, even as Mr. Van Ooute backs away slowly.

  “It may be in front of the courts, but possession is nine-tenths of the law. Mr. Van Ooute? Or should I call you by your real name: Mr. August. Maybe you can tell us how you stole the Blushing Diamond and then broke in through the Lebels’ basement window and replaced it with a fake.”

  “I didn’t steal anything.” Mr. Van Ooute no longer speaks with a French accent. “I found the diamond on the seat of my car after I drove the little miss to school. Finally, our inheritance returned through sheer stupidity. Who allows a child to handle such a valuable stone?”

  “No one, you idiot!” Mr. Lebel answers. “We keep several replicas f
or different occasions. The one the dog swallowed is the real one, from our vault.”

  “You’re lying,” Mr. August says.

  “Am I? Well, excuse me while I drive the animal and his owner to the hospital to get our —” he pauses to make air quotes with his fingers “— ‘fake’ Blushing Diamond back.” He snatches the leash away from Buddy’s owner. A bonus mistake, number eleven, because Buddy clamps his teeth onto Mr. Lebel’s leg.

  THE AFTERMATH

  Both Mr. Lebel and Mr. August insist another person besides Buddy’s owner be around to watch for the dog to poop out the Blushing Diamond, so they hire my father.

  “Buddy’s owner, Mrs. Gleener, also happens to run the Rottweiler Cleaning Service,” I tell my mother as we sit around Mrs. Kobai’s dining room table the next evening with Attila, Star, and Renée. Mrs. Kobai invited us for dinner, and she made us a traditional Hungarian meal: goulash.

  “You think she would call it Gleener Cleaning Service,” Renée says.

  Ha ha ha ha! We all have a laugh over that.

  I lift the fork to my mouth: goulash, angry food. I’m nervous about fiery spices lashing out at my mouth, but I don’t want to insult Mrs. Kobai. My tongue touches the cube of meat and pulls back. Tangy. I have some noodles under the meat, the easy part, I think, the treat after the nasty, so I quickly shove the whole forkful in my mouth. Mmmm. The meat falls apart in my mouth, and the sauce with noodles makes a great combo, zippy and rough but also buttery and smooth. “Delicious, Mrs. Kobai, thank you.”

  “You’re welcome. I am so glad you like it,” she says.

  Mom takes a forkful of goulash, too. “Mmm. My husband would love this,” she tells Mrs. Kobai. “How much longer do you think your father will be?” she asks me.

  “Depends, Ping and Pong go to the bathroom at least three times a day. All three times in the morning.”

  Mom groans. “And it’s already seven p.m. So usually doesn’t count in this case.”

  I shrug my shoulders. “Who knows how long it will take Buddy to poop out the Blushing Diamond.”

  “Maybe it got stuck in his intestines,” Attila suggests.

  “The vet wouldn’t let him go home if she thought that would happen,” Renée says. “She took X-rays.”

  Mrs. Kobai pulls out her phone, presses a key, and speaks. “How long does it take for a dog who swallowed a diamond to poop it out?”

  “Ew, gross,” Star says. “Siri can’t answer …”

  “Here’s what I found on the web,” Siri, the voice on the phone, interrupts. Mrs. Kobai reads from the screen. “One to three days.”

  “Who will want that diamond now?” Star asks.

  “The August family,” I answer. “And Mr. Lebel.” I search for the court case article on my phone to show them. The one I found when I typed in “$40,000 diamond.”

  The header reads: “$40,000 Diamond at Centre of Hot Dispute.”

  “So Mr. Lebel never met the Augusts before?” Renée asks after she reads it. “Even though they were suing him for the return of their inheritance?”

  “He only met their dad in court,” I said. “Besides, they only think it’s their inheritance. Their grandfather, Walter August, suffered from obsessive compulsive disorder and never left the house the last years of his life. The broker holding the diamond for him said Walter told him to sell it and he paid him in bitcoin,” I tell everyone around the table.

  “Funny, Mr. Lebel never made the connection between Mr. Ooute’s name and August. I mean Mr. Lebel must have heard how close it sounds to août,” Mom says.

  “Monsieur Van Ooute,” Renée says. “When you say it with the Van, it really throws you off.”

  “Still pretty cheeky on Andrew August’s part,” Mom says. “The name switch.”

  “And when he drops the French accent, he talks like a pirate.” I grin. “According to Pearl, who thinks everyone from Australia talks like a pirate.”

  “Who also claimed a pirate had her diamond,” Renée adds.

  The doorbell chimes at that moment.

  “Dad?” I say, as Mrs. Kobai heads to answer it.

  But it isn’t Dad. Mr. Lebel walks in wearing large, red oven mitts and carrying a pie. “Bonsoir,” he growls. A yeti with lobster claws. “Your father will be here shortly,” he says to me, then to everyone: “The diamond has exited Buddy.”

  “Yay!” I cheer. Everyone else claps.

  “Thank you, merci.” Mr. Lebel bows his head quickly. “And I have baked in appreciation for all you have done, Stephen and Renée, with walking Pearl and looking for the Blushing Diamond.”

  Renée’s eyes bug out. “You bake?”

  “Apple pie?” I ask quickly to cover up for Renée’s shock. Lots of men are bakers and chefs, after all. Yetis, not so much.

  “Non. Tarte au sucre. It is the specialty of my home province, Québec. My Pearl’s favourite. She says it tastes like butter tart.”

  The doorbell rings again, and this time, Mrs. Kobai brings Dad. His hair looks wet and he smells like his fancy shower gel. He bends to kiss Mom, then sits down to a plate of goulash.

  “So, did you turn the real diamond over to the police?” Attila asks my father.

  Dad shakes his head and looks at Mr. Lebel, who nods. “I handed it over to the Augusts,” Dad answers.

  “Pearl told me the little boy is her friend even if his uncle is a pirate.” Mr. Lebel shakes his head. “And what a pirate he is. Imagine, all these two years he works for me with a fake diamond in his pocket ready to make a switcheroo the moment I turn my back.” Mr. Lebel shrugs. “But he is an amazing jeweller! And little August invited Pearl to his birthday party. She needs a good friend. Eh bien. So, we settle out of court. It has been too long and the lawyers cost too much. I returned the Blushing Diamond to the Augusts and they paid me what I originally paid for the ring. Plus repair for my basement window.”

  I smile, inhaling the sweet smell of freshly baked pastry and melted brown sugar. Suddenly, I feel very generous. “So, do you want us to pick up Pearl for school on Monday?”

  “Non, merci. Pearl wants to walk with her little friend, August. So I will pay Mrs. Whittingham to pick her up and bring her home.”

  Just as well, Pearl is a kindergarten baby, after all. They slow you down, they pee themselves, and you never know what they’re talking about, whether it’s the truth or not. Besides, I’ll see her next Thursday for reading buddies. I’m going to try a new book on her: Binky the Space Cat.

  Mrs. Kobai gets a knife and cuts up the pie into eighths, serving my mother first, then my father, who quickly mops up his goulash gravy with the last chunk of meat on his dinner plate. I get a piece, then Attila and Star. “Would you care for a slice of your own pie, Monsieur Lebel?” my mother asks.

  “Non, merci.” He pats his stomach. “I’ve already had plenty.”

  “So, Stephen, how many pieces of pie will be left?” Renée asks, chuckling as she lifts a glass of milk to her lips.

  “An infinite number!” I slap my leg and snort.

  Attila and Star squint at me. It’s even funnier that they don’t get it.

  Renée sips at her milk.

  “Everyone knows the number pi goes on forever.”

  “That’s very clever,” Mom says.

  “Too clever for me,” Dad says and Mrs. Kobai agrees.

  Let’s face it, no one in the world finds me funny. Except maybe one person. I glance over at Renée, who is my best friend even though she’s a girl, which makes sleepovers tricky. At that moment, Renée doubles over and squirts milk out of her nose.

  Book Credits

  Acquiring Editor: Scott Fraser

  Project Editor: Jenny McWha

  Editor: Catherine Dorton

  Proofreader: Shari Rutherford

  Cover Designer: Laura Boyle

  Interior Designer: Sophie Paas-Lang

  Publicist: Elham Ali