The Diamond Mistake Mystery Page 2

  Renée snaps it up. “Here it is!” she says and holds it out for Pearl.

  “That’s not it.” Pearl pouts.

  “Well, it got all crumpled from all the junk on top, sure,” I explain. “But it’s Wonder Woman all right.”

  Renée tries to drape it over Pearl, but she shrieks, “Not mine, not mine, not mine!” and stamps her feet.

  “Shhh!” I say.

  “That’s Beena’s jacket.”

  “How can you tell?” Renée asks.

  Pearl reaches her hands into the pockets and pulls out the linings. “My pink diamond ring’s not here.”

  “Pink diamond, is it?” I squint at her.

  “Maybe it fell out of the pocket,” Renée suggests.

  “Fine. I’ll keep looking.” I try to breathe through my mouth so as not to inhale the mouldy laundry smell.

  I remove a worn-out-looking stuffed unicorn, a pair of green rubber boots with alligator mouths, and lastly, a grey pair of boys’ underwear. Gross. At the bottom I scoop up one plastic ring with a pink crystal-plastic diamond the size of a rock. “Found it!” I hold up the toy treasure.

  “That’s not real!” Pearl stamps her foot again. “And it’s not mine.”

  Mistake number two of the day, but really, there was no avoiding it. After all, how many Wonder Woman jackets can there be with little-kid rings inside the pocket?

  DAY ONE, MISTAKE THREE

  Turns out at least two kids have Wonder Woman jackets that supposedly hold rings. Renée comes up with the bright idea of searching for Beena in the kindergarten playground and maybe seeing if she accidentally took Pearl’s jacket instead of her own.

  Beena also owns a Wonder Woman backpack, the one that sat behind Pearl’s in line this morning. This all makes sense. Miss Buffet says Beena lost her jacket days ago.

  I offer to exchange the one from the lost and found for the less wrinkled one Beena wears.

  “No, no!” Beena whines. “That one doesn’t have as many stars.”

  “But it had this in the pocket,” I say, holding up the ring, even though we’re not really sure it fell out from the jacket at all.

  Beena shrugs off her jacket and switches immediately. “That is mine!” Beena snatches the ring from my hand and slides it on her finger. Her mouth drops open as she admires it.

  I’m not convinced it’s hers.

  Pearl grabs up the less wrinkled Wonder Woman jacket from the ground and checks the pockets. “My pink diamond’s not in here! You took it!” she yells at Beena.

  Beena drops her chin and looks at Pearl, her brown eyes puppy-dog innocent. Like Ping’s when he’s stolen Pong’s kibble.

  “Remember the rule about not bringing valuables to school?” Miss Buffet says.

  “But I brought it for show and tell!” Pearl makes puppy eyes, too. Only hers are pale blue like a husky’s. They watch Miss Buffet, measuring to see just how far she can be pushed. “Pink diamonds are rare, you know,” she adds.

  “When do you last remember having it?” Renée asks.

  “When I took it from Mommy’s jewellery box and put it in my pocket.”

  Jewellery box? Oh no! Maybe it is a real diamond.

  “We should check around in the kindergarten play area,” Renée suggests.

  All the kindergarteners decide they will help, but as they hunt, they randomly call out “Found it! Found it!” Then they laugh like chimpanzees.

  “This is so not my problem,” I say to Renée. “We’re just going to take her home after school and her parents can sort out this ring thing.”

  Pearl hears me and puffs up, ready to cry again.

  “We’ll find it, Pearl, don’t worry!” Renée smiles and pats her shoulder. “All we have to do is retrace our steps from this morning and look carefully at the ground.”

  “But we have to go to class now!” I say, pulling Renée away.

  “We’ll look for it after school,” Renée promises.

  “Remember how Mr. Lebel told us not to dawdle?” I tell her as we make our way to our class.

  “Can’t imagine what he’ll say if Pearl lost a genuine diamond ring.”

  Renée makes a very good point. At lunch we sit together, and I give her one of Mrs. Lebel’s apple tarts.

  “Mmm. Delish!” Renée says.

  While enjoying the mini pie, I make up my mind to do my best with Pearl and that ring for Mrs. Lebel. Then I put it all out of my mind until three o’clock. That’s when Renée asks Mrs. Worsley to let us out early so we can get Pearl. Kindergarteners have an early dismissal.

  Mrs. Worsley nods her head. “Don’t forget your agendas.”

  “Never!” Renée calls out cheerily as we make our dash. She turns to me then. “Maybe Pearl dropped her ring at the crack in the sidewalk with all the ants.”

  Renée gives me hope. That has to be it. Pearl was probably playing with the ring the whole way to school, when she wasn’t twirling her hair. When she stopped to point out the ants, she must have accidentally pulled out the ring.

  We’re going to be the heroes on this one, I think, as we arrive at the kindergarten play area. Miss Buffet opens the gate and releases Pearl to us. She runs toward me and wraps me in a big hug. Okay, that’s kind of nice, I admit.

  “Here, Stephen.” Miss Buffet hands me a plastic bag tightly knotted at the top. “We had another accident today.”

  Gah! Why do I have to be the one to carry Pearl’s wet clothes?

  Our ten-minute walk home takes thirty minutes as all three of us check the sidewalk and grass around us, hoping to spot that pink diamond. You’d think it would be easy, but there are red and orange leaves everywhere and it’s cloudy. There is no sunlight to glint off the ring.

  “Maybe the ants carried it away,” I say as I rake the leaves with my fingers. “Or some other kid found it.” I check the street near the curb. I walk back and forth along the sidewalk, shaking my head. “I don’t think we are going to find it.”

  “For now, we better get home or your dad will get worried,” Renée says.

  Pearl whimpers but doesn’t make a fuss. Instead, she twirls a finger into her hair and straggles along behind us. Takes forever, but finally, we reach our street.

  “Don’t worry, it’ll turn up,” Renée says as we head down it.

  “Nah, I don’t think so,” I say. “We’re just going to have to tell your dad.”

  “Ahhh!” Pearl yells and scoots ahead, yanking open the front door and slamming it in our faces. From behind the large rectangle of glass, she sticks her tongue out at me.

  Wrong thing to tell her, I guess, although I don’t believe in lying to kids.

  That’s when my phone buzzes. A text from Dad! I take it out of my pocket and check the screen.

  Mr. Lebel was admitted to the hospital with pneumonia. Can you look after Pearl till five thirty? His sales manager will take over then.

  I don’t answer Dad’s text. Instead, I pound at the Lebel door. “Her father’s in the hospital,” I tell Renée. “She’s alone in there.”

  Meanwhile, Renée rattles at the door handle. “Come on, open up. This isn’t funny, Pearl.”

  It isn’t funny to Pearl, either, anymore. I see her lip turn up and tremble. Her eyes grow big as she jiggles at the lock. At least that’s what it sounds like she’s doing.

  “Go around and try the back!” I suggest.

  Pearl disappears, and Renée and I meet her at the back door, which is all glass and screen.

  “This one should be easy!” I say. I push at the button on the silver-grey handle as Pearl flicks at that lock. I pull. Nothing. I push, then pull. Nothing. I lift and pull.

  “Try the other way,” Renée calls to her. “Maybe it was already unlocked.”

  Click. I pull again.

  It’s no use. And now Pearl starts wailing.

  “Go back to the front. I’ll get my dad,” I say. Renée and I dash around to the other door to meet her.

  Renée coaches Pearl on how to unlock the door as
I text Dad: Help. Pearl locked herself in her house and we can’t get in.

  Seconds later he texts back. Get a neighbour. I’m too far away.

  At that moment a narrow white truck hurtles around the corner. Diamond Drywall. We know the man at the wheel.

  “Harry can help us!” Renée runs to the street.

  “No, no, no!” I call after.

  This could be a fatal mistake, number three of the day. Renée does a jumping jack directly in the truck’s path. Harry doesn’t look like he can stop in time.

  DAY ONE, MISTAKE FOUR

  Instead of stopping, the Diamond Drywall truck veers into the Lebel driveway. Harry, the owner, leaps out. He’s a strong, small guy dressed in a grey hoodie and jeans. Today, he’s also wearing these yellow workboots that I bet have steel toes. He can kick in the Lebel door if he has to. He jogs up the walk like he’s wearing sneakers.

  “What’s wrong, kids?”

  On cue, Pearl starts crying louder. Renée waves her arms wildly. “Pearl’s locked herself in the house!”

  “Try turning the lock,” Harry tells Pearl, who starts hiccupping. She fiddles with something and Harry pushes down on the handle, then slams his body into the door. He pulls. Nothing. “And the back?” he turns and asks us.

  “We’ve tried,” I answer.

  Chin in hand, he squints down at the bottom of the house and smiles. “Easy enough to break into a basement window.”

  “Don’t!” I plead. I can just imagine Mr. Lebel shaking his hairy fist at us, yelling his yeti brains out. “I mean, is there nothing else you can do?”

  Harry looks up. “Hmm. That bathroom window looks open. Let me get my ladder.”

  Meanwhile, Renée starts singing “Itsy Bitsy Spider” to try to calm Pearl down. By the time she reaches the line about the rain coming down, Harry has the ladder in his hand, and when the sun comes out in the song, he extends and props it against the wall. He is quick and efficient, a pro. When Itsy Bitsy heads up the water spout again, Harry whips up the ladder and slides the window open wider. It’s still a tiny space. He’s fit, a weightlifter; will his muscles get in the way? One shoulder and one leg make it. He stops and angles his body. Maybe he’s double-jointed, too, because he slips into the house before Renée starts another round.

  But while Harry Diamond is very quick climbing in, he seems to be taking quite a while to get to the front door.

  “So Itsy Bitsy Spider went up the spout again,” Renée sings, her hands forming the climbing spider. “What is taking him so long?” she asks.

  “I don’t know. You think he’s checking the place out? For valuables, I mean?” We needed somebody to help us get to Pearl, but was Harry a mistake? He’s the contractor who caused Mrs. Bennett to switch to a coded lock on her door when he took his payment from her cookie jar savings without telling her. I shift on my feet. My neck feels prickly.

  Then I spot Mr. Rupert across the street on the sidewalk wearing a khaki-coloured jacket with far too many pockets. His yellow hair stands at attention, electric-shock style. His fingers hold on to a phone as though he’s taking a photo.

  “What’s his problem?” I ask Renée.

  “Hi, Mr. Rupert!” she calls and waves. “Nice day for a walk!”

  “I don’t trust people who go for a walk without a dog,” I grumble.

  “Yes, but he only owns a cat,” Renée answers. “Have you ever tried walking one of those?”

  Mr. Rupert nods our way, pointing with two fingers at his eyes, then at us.

  I shake my head. “Good old Mr. Rupert. Doing his neighbourhood-watch thing.”

  Finally, through the glass on the door, I see Harry Diamond return, and I lose track of Mr. Rupert. The door opens. “Here, try this, kids.” He hands me a cow-spotted key on a loop of shoestring. “See if it’s a spare.” He shuts and locks the door again.

  The key slides in easily, I turn it, and the door opens. Where did Harry find it?

  “I suggest you keep that on you if you’re babysitting this kid,” Harry says as he steps out. “Wow, they sure have some library. You must be a great reader, little girl.” Harry tousles Pearl’s hair. “I’ll leave a couple business cards on the table.” One flutters down, and he does a quick squat, stoops to pick it up. “Let her parents know I helped you out.”

  “Thank you so much,” Renée says as he steps out.

  “No problem,” he answers and grins. His eyes smile, too.

  “Yeah, thanks a lot.”

  He waves and takes off. He’s speeding down the road as we enter the Lebels’ house. Fast with ladders and cars but slow when he wants to wander around someone’s house. I get that prickly feeling again.

  “I peed myself,” Pearl announces. She stands in a puddle.

  “Yeah, you sure did.” She made a mistake, I tell myself, trying not to be annoyed. “Where does your mother keep the paper towel?” Maybe two mistakes. Locking us out and then not going to the bathroom.

  “We don’t use paper. We have real towels. I’ll show you.” She peels off her wet socks and runs up the stairs.

  “Careful!” I call as we follow. At the top, the wall is lined floor to ceiling with dark, wooden shelves filled with books. Must be what Harry Diamond was talking about. Awesome. Pearl dashes to the left, stopping at a sliding door on another wall. She pulls the door to the side — “Here!” — and throws me a fluffy orange bath towel. It looks better than the special towels we keep aside for guests. I sigh. I don’t care. I have to use something.

  “If your bedroom is up here, we may as well change you while we’re here,” Renée says. Pearl grabs her hand and pulls her into one of the rooms.

  I head back down and mop up her puddle with the bright, thick towel. What to do with it after? I decide to leave it in the tub upstairs. That’s what you do with dirty towels in hotels; the tub is easy to clean.

  Then I walk over to the shelf and check out the books while I wait for Renée and Pearl. They have the complete collection of Harry Potter, all seven, in hardcover. There’s a figurine of a small dog in the front of those books, white and black just like Ping and Pong. I can’t help myself. I pick up the dog and hear a loud click. What have I done? I put it back down again and notice a crack between the two units of shelves. Strange. I push at one and realize the bookshelves are doors. I pull them apart.

  Whoa! There’s a little room behind the bookshelves. I step inside and realize I’m surrounded by jewellery. Purple, green, and red gems, some in rings and some in bracelets. Most sit on black velvet cushions along shelves, locked behind glass, but in the corner is a large cabinet, the same wood as the bookshelves. I reach to touch it.

  “That’s Mommy’s jewellery box,” Pearl says.

  I jump. “Don’t sneak up on me like that!”

  Pearl’s wearing fresh clothes now, leopard-spotted leggings with a red turtleneck sweater and a pink shaggy vest. You can tell Renée helped her dress.

  Renée walks up behind her and puts her hand on one shaggy shoulder. “Is that where you took your show-and-tell diamond from?” Renée asks.

  “Uh-huh.”

  Drat, that means it really must be some precious ring. Not my problem, not my fault.

  Suddenly, we hear a door slam and someone pounds up the stairs.

  Should we step out and shut the shelf door quickly or hide inside? Too late to even think about it.

  “Hey! What are you kids doing in here?”

  Is the mistake snooping or is the mistake getting caught? They feel like two halves of the same pie, which is mistake number four of the day, regardless.

  DAY ONE, MISTAKE FIVE

  Renée squints at the tall man in the dark suit, leading with her best offence. “Wait a minute. Who are you?”

  The man smiles and his dark moustache seems to spread. “I am André Van Ooute, manager of Lebel Jewellery,” he says with a French accent. He gives a little bow.

  “Hoot?” Renée repeats. It sounded like a French owl call.

  “Without the
H. Dutch. I come from a long line of jewellers.” He bows again. “But today I am supposed to be looking after you, mademoiselle.” He points to Pearl. “We already know each other. I drove her to school hier, yesterday.”

  Pearl nods.

  “But you kids are not supposed to be in here. This is Mr. Lebel’s private collection. If something were to go missing …”

  They will blame us. I finish the thought in my head. Oh my gosh, the Lebels are going to blame us for the missing pink diamond!

  “Step out now, please.”

  We do as we’re told, and he slides the shelves back in place. “Even I have never been in there,” he says as he turns our way again.

  “Well, I guess we better be going, anyway,” I say.

  Renée agrees. “That’s right. Look at the time. We have dogs to walk.”

  A siren suddenly wails and Renée jumps.

  The sound comes from Mr. Van Ooute’s jacket. He holds up a finger as he takes a phone out and looks at the screen. He frowns. “Listen. I must go back to the store for a moment. Pearl, you will have to accompany me.”

  She shakes her head. “No. I want to stay with Renée. I want to walk the dogs.”

  “What? No. She can’t come,” I sputter. And, by the way, why does she want to stay with Renée but not with me?

  “Pearl, you heard him. Let’s go,” Mr. Van Ooute says.

  “Noooooooo!” she howls longer than his phone siren.

  Mr. Van Ooute reaches for her hand.

  “You’re hurting me!” she wails.

  “But that is impossible.” Mr. Van Ooute raises both his hands away from her. “I have not touched you.”

  “She can walk with us,” Renée quickly offers.

  Pearl stops crying immediately.

  Mr. Van Ooute drops his hand. “Merci beaucoup!”

  We’re all relieved that Pearl is quiet again. But taking her on our dog walk has to be the biggest mistake of the day. Number five. Sometimes we just can’t avoid them; I don’t blame Renée. This was definitely one of those times.

  Mr. Van Ooute opens his arms wide as though he wants to herd us away from the bookshelf. “I’m afraid I’m in a bit of a hurry,” he says.