Harriet the Spy, Double Agent (13 page)

Chapter 12

Harriet didn’t know what to do. It didn’t
seem
like a kidnapping—Annie had gone of her own free will, and Harriet knew she had met the same man at least twice before—but something about the way he’d approached her felt wrong. She kicked herself mentally for not asking Annie more questions about the two men she’d been meeting.

The cute guy always brings her to meet P., she thought. If I just had a clue who P.
was
.

She decided to stake out the Feigenbaums’ house. Annie’s rendezvous usually didn’t last more than a couple of hours, since she didn’t want to be caught by her uncle and aunt. So the Feigenbaums must not be in on the secret, Harriet realized as she thought back—Annie had set up both meetings with P. while they were away from their house.

But now they were home, seeing patients. And this
wasn’t
a meeting that Annie had planned—she had looked just as surprised as Harriet when the blond guy approached her.

This made Harriet even more anxious. Annie might be in danger, she thought. I have to tell someone.

She went upstairs, hauled the phone into her bedroom, and closed her door.

Luckily Sport was at home.

“Hi, Spy. What’s up?”

Harriet didn’t waste words. “Remember when your mother kidnapped you?”

“That isn’t exactly the sort of thing you can forget,” said Sport, whose horrid mother had once kept him prisoner in, of all places, the Plaza Hotel.

“I think maybe Annie’s been kidnapped.”

“Yolanda?” Sport yelped. Harriet gave him a rundown of what she had witnessed, and Sport agreed that it sounded awfully fishy.

“Let’s meet at the Feigenbaums’,” Harriet said.

Barbara and Morris sat them down on the couch of the waiting room. Their last patients were gone, and the doors to both offices stood open. Harriet could see Morris’s couch in one room, across from a huge leather chair and a low table with one box of Kleenex. Across the hall, she caught a glimpse of Barbara’s examining table, with a long roll of sanitized paper and stirrups. It gave her the shivers.

“What did he look like?” Barbara demanded.

“He’s probably in his twenties. Shaggy blond hair with a little goatee. He wears fingerless gloves,” she added significantly. Sport looked at her and she felt herself blush.

“And one of those woven jackets from Central America. He’s probably—how tall are you, Sport?”

“Five foot six,” said Sport.

“He’s maybe an inch or two taller. And he has a dimple right here,” she said, placing her finger on one pink cheek.

Barbara and Morris looked at each other, bewildered.

“And you’ve seen him with Annie before?” Morris asked.

Harriet nodded. “Twice. She met him both times at the Papaya King, and he took her to meet with the other man, P.”

“
Other
man?” Barbara demanded. “What other man? What do you mean by ‘P.’?” Morris set a calming hand on her arm. “Describe him, please, Harriet.”

“Older,” said Harriet. “Sandy brown curls and a long nose, like—” Barbara jumped off the couch. “I knew it!” she shouted. “I
knew
he was going to sneak down here and see her. Oh, his goose is cooked. He’ll be lucky if he gets a weekend. I’m going to call Jackie this minute!”

“Not till we find out—” Morris bellowed, but Barbara was already out of the room. “Who
is
he?” said Harriet. This was all going too fast.

Morris sighed. “Annie’s father.”

The police had been called, as had Harriet’s parents. Morris Feigenbaum told the Welsches that Harriet was an important witness and would have to stay with them until the detectives arrived.
Detectives
, thought Harriet, frightened and secretly thrilled. She would get to be interrogated by a team of professionals. She wondered if there would be one who was hard-edged and mean and one who was pudgy and kinder, with a reassuring soft baritone, as there always seemed to be on TV shows.

Barbara came back in, babbling so quickly that Morris went into his office and got her a tranquilizer. It seemed to have no effect. Harriet and Sport kept their seats on the couch, watching her pace on the waiting room carpet, nervously touching her earrings and ranting about Annie’s father. “I told Jackie the first time she went on a date with him,” Barbara said. “Once a shark, always. I knew he would leave her in tatters.”

“You’ll make yourself crazy,” said Morris.

“If he harms one hair on her
head
…,” Barbara threatened.

“He’s not going to harm her. He just wants to see his daughter.”

“And my sister doesn’t?” raged Barbara. “I’ll tell you who I’d like to sue, is that judge who came up with this nonsense. The nerve of him, yanking that poor child away from both parents until they determine her custody. Heartless!” She was still bouncing 71

back and forth, from one side of the room to the other. It was like watching a tennis match, Harriet thought, but with much better dialogue.

“We’ve been through this a million times,” Morris was saying. “Jackie and Chris are behaving like wolverines.”

Chris? Harriet wondered. Why would someone named Chris be called P.? But there was no more time to wonder since Morris was still talking. “It’s better for Annie that she’s been away from all that.”

The front door had opened. “Away from all
what
?” said a voice from the hallway.

“What’s better for me?”

“
Annie
!” Barbara screamed. “Thank heavens you’re safe.” She launched her lean body at Annie as she appeared in the arch of the waiting room. Annie sidestepped her aunt, accusatory eyes landing on Harriet.

“You
promised
you wouldn’t tell.”

“I was worried,” said Harriet. “I thought you’d been kidnapped.”

“Wrong,” Annie said, her voice icy.

“You’ve got some explaining to do, young lady,” said Morris. “We’ve called the police.”

“The
police
?”

“We didn’t know where you were! How
dare
you make plans with your father!

You know what the judge said!” shrieked Barbara. Morris tried to restrain her.

“Don’t you dare try to shut me up!” she screamed, whirling on Annie. “What were you
doing
with him??”

“Eating Chinese food,” said Annie. “Papa bought me an egg roll. Is that such a crime?”
Papa
, thought Harriet. P.

“The only good thing about this,” Barbara said, her eyes flashing, “is that that man will
never
get custody now.”

Annie glared at her aunt. “That’s what he drove here to tell me. The judge has decided that it’s up to me.”

Barbara staggered as if she might faint. “What?” she gasped. “How can he do that?”

“The law,” Annie said, “is the law.”

“Does your mother know about this?” Morris asked.

Barbara pushed him impatiently, stepping toward Annie. “Who are you going to go with?” she asked in a tremulous voice.

Everyone’s eyes were on Annie. She surveyed the room slowly, then reached down to unzip her backpack with slow and deliberate drama. “I haven’t decided as yet,” she pronounced. “I need to consult with some people I know: Cassandra D’Amore, Yolanda Montezuma, and Rosarita Sauvage.”

She took out her sock monkey and swept from the room with elaborate dignity, just as a voice called from outside, “
Police
!” It was late by the time Sport and Harriet were finally sent home. “I wonder which parent Annie will pick?” said Sport.

“If her mother is anything like Barbara Feigenbaum, I’d go for P. He looked all right,” said Harriet. She was dying to get home and write about the detectives; Captain Siri and Officer Wolford had not been at all what she’d pictured.

“Who would
you
pick?” asked Sport, stopping on the sidewalk in front of Harriet’s house. “I mean, it’s no contest for me—my mother is nuts, and I’d go with my father and Kate in a heartbeat—but who would you live with if you had to choose?” Harriet searched her mind for an answer. Her father was more easygoing, and certainly funnier, but he was always at work. And she couldn’t imagine not coming home to her mother’s warm smile. What would it be like to live with just one of her parents? “I don’t know,” she said finally. “I’m glad I don’t have to decide.”

“Anyway, it doesn’t matter,” said Sport, sounding gloomy. “Annie’s mother and father both live in Boston.”

“That’s true,” Harriet said. “I didn’t think of that. As soon as she makes up her mind, she’ll be moving away.”

They looked at each other a moment. Sport looks just as sad as I feel, thought Harriet, and without even thinking about it, she reached for his hand. “But we’ll still have each other. As
friends
,” she hastened to add, letting go of his hand.

“Of course as friends,” Sport said. “What else would we be?” The following weekend, Harriet went to the Feigenbaums’ to help Annie pack her belongings into the trunk of their Volvo for the long drive back to Boston. Before Harriet left her room, though, she took out her notebook. Through assiduous spying on her mother and Barbara Feigenbaum, who had somehow become thick as thieves, Harriet had learned several important things, all of which she wanted to get down on paper.

FIRST OF ALL, ANNIE WAS LYING. SHE DOES NOT HAVE TO CHOOSE BETWEEN HER TWO PARENTS. THE JUDGE HAS ALREADY DECIDED THAT THEY’LL HAVE JOINT CUSTODY. SHE WILL LIVE WITH HER MOTHER ON WEEKDAYS AND P. (WHOSE NAME IS CHRISTOPHER SMITH) ON ALTERNATE WEEKENDS AND SUMMER VACATIONS. ANNIE ALREADY KNEW ALL THIS WHEN SHE GOT BACK TO THE FEIGENBAUMS’. THAT’S WHAT HER FATHER WAS TELLING HER OVER THE EGG ROLLS AT MING MOON. SHE WAS JUST TRYING TO GIVE HER AUNT BARBARA A HEART ATTACK (WHICH WOULDN’T BE HARD, FROM THE LOOK OF HER).

Harriet paused for a moment, then wrote, I BET ANNIE’S RELIEVED NOT TO HAVE TO DECIDE. I’D BE RELIEVED. 

She chewed on her pen and started another new paragraph.

SECOND, ANNIE WAS NEVER EXPELLED FROM SPORT’S PUBLIC SCHOOL. SHE HAD BEEN ON A WAITING LIST FOR THE GREGORY SCHOOL ALL ALONG, AND A PLACE OPENED UP AT THANKSGIVING WHEN IRIS MUTH MOVED TO SWITZERLAND. 

THIRD, THE GUY IN THE FINGERLESS GLOVES IS THE SON OF CHRISTOPHER SMITH’S BUSINESS PARTNER. HIS NAME IS ELIAS AND HE GOES TO NYU FILM SCHOOL.

She could feel her ears starting to burn, so she picked up the pen and wrote quickly:

HE IS 23, WHICH IS ACTUALLY VERGING ON OLD. AND ACCORDING TO ANNIE, HE SAYS “UM” AND “LIKE” ALL THE TIME, WHICH IS SURELY A SIGN  OF A LAZY MIND. EVEN IF HE HAS GREAT TASTE IN GLOVES. FOURTH, I’M CONVINCED THAT ANNIE’S PARENTS LOVE HER. P. LOVES HIS DAUGHTER SO MUCH THAT HE BROKE THE RULES SO HE COULD SEE HER, AND HER MOTHER LOVES HER SO MUCH THAT SHE FOLLOWED THE RULES, EVEN THOUGH SHE MISSED ANNIE LIKE CRAZY. OLE GOLLY TOLD ME THERE ARE ALL KINDS OF LOVE IN THE WORLD, BUT I THINK THERE’S JUST ONE, USING DIFFERENT IDENTITIES. JUST LIKE MY FRIEND ANNIE SMITH.

Harriet reread her list from the beginning, then paused for a moment to ask herself if there was anything else of importance to say. There was.

FIFTH, ANNIE LOVES TO WRITE LETTERS. THIS IS AN EXCELLENT THING TO FIND OUT WHEN SOMEBODY IS MOVING, ESPECIALLY WHEN   YOU’RE A WRITER YOURSELF.

Acknowledgments

Grateful thanks to my agent, Phyllis Wender, and the wonderful staff at Rosenstone/Wender agency; to my editor, Beverly Horowitz, for her astute and gracious guidance; to Louise Fitzhugh for creating such marvelous characters; to Lois Morehead for her enthusiastic thumbs-up; to Susie and Ellen Cohen for reading every word with patient care; to Laura Shaine Cunningham and her writer daughters, Alexandra and Jasmine, for their ardent support; and to my parents and brothers for making my childhood such a joy. Finally, bottomless thanks to my daughter and first reader, Sophia, for her excellent writing advice and soul-warming smile, and to her circle of friends at Marbletown Elementary School and Rondout Valley Middle School for reminding me daily how children speak, think, and feel.

About the Authors

MAYA  GOLD, like Annie Smith, is a woman of many identities. In some of her other lives, she has been an award-winning screenwriter, novelist, editor, and occasional planter of Douglas firs. But her favorite role is that of proud mother to ten-year-old author and deep-dyed Harriet fan Sophia M. Gold. They live in New York.

LOUISE FITZHUGH was born in Memphis, Tennessee. She attended Bard College, studied art in Italy and France, and continued her studies in New York at the Art Students League and at Cooper Union. Her groundbreaking first children’s novel,
Harriet
the Spy®
, was followed by
The Long Secret
and Sport, and all are acclaimed as milestones of children’s literature. These classics delight children year after year.

Other Yearling Books You Will Enjoy

HARRIET THE SPY®,
Louise Fitzhugh

SPORT,
Louise Fitzhugh

THE LONG SECRET,
Louise Fitzhugh

THE PHANTOM TOLLBOOTH,
Norton Juster