Kelsey the Spy (3 page)

“What mystery did you solve, Leo?” Becca asks as she rips into a bag of apple chips.

“All will be revealed in the due course of our meeting.” Leo folds the dust rag and puts it away on a shelf, then sits at the table.

“Tell us now,” I demand, leaning forward in my chair, which causes it to wobble so I sit on the edge to even it out.

Leo ignores me. He thuds his fist on the table. “I hereby call our CCSC meeting to order.”

“I second that,” Becca and I say at the same time to hurry him up.

Leo gives his detailed (boring) treasurer's report. We've received reward money for returning lost pets, which pays for our kitten supplies like food and litter. We haven't spent much lately so our treasury is looking good.

Next is old business, and Leo gets an excited gleam in his blue eyes. “I solved a cryptic clue.”

He reaches into his pocket and pulls out the old photo he found in the grandfather clock.

I've seen the photo before, but it's really cool so I look again. The boy is about three years old with either black or brown hair; color is impossible to tell in a black-and-white photo. He wears old-fashioned suspenders, dark shoes, and pleated slacks. And he's riding a giant tortoise.

“According to my research, this tortoise is an Aldabra, the world's second-largest tortoise species,” Leo says in his usual know-it-all way. “Aldabra tortoises can live over two hundred years. At first I thought this photo was from the 1800s because 1897 was scribbled on the back. But I was wrong.”

“You? Wrong?” I can't resist teasing.

“It's a rare occurrence,” he admits in total seriousness. “But 1897 isn't a date. The clothing and photo paper prove the picture was taken in the 1950s.”

Becca plops an apple chip in her mouth. “So what do the numbers mean?”

“I considered a phone number, because back then some phone numbers only had four digits with a location like Lincoln-5641,” Leo says as he crosses the room to get a magnifying glass from his toolbox. He holds the glass over the photo so Becca and I can get a closer look. “Only the numeral sequence didn't correlate.” He points to the back of the phone. “Notice the space before the seven and the smudge afterward like faded writing? Under microscope examination, that smudge turned out to be letters
s
and
t
.”

“The abbreviation for street,” Becca guesses.

“Affirmative.” Leo nods. “I checked a map, and 189 Seventh Street is a real address. It's 1.3 miles from our current location.”

“That's great!” I jump off my chair. “Someone there might know about the grandfather clock.”

“And the tortoise,” Becca adds.

“What are we waiting for?” Leo is already across the room and opening the door. “Let's go sleuthing.”

- Chapter 3 -

The Long Secret

Leo hops on his robotic gyro-board, clicks the remote control, and zooms off. Becca and I have to pedal our bikes fast to keep up.

As I bump down the dirt trail, I inhale crisp piney air, feeling excited and lucky to be in the CCSC. Becca, Leo, and I never would have become friends if we hadn't rescued the kittens from a dumpster. Since then we've solved two mysteries, and if we find out who left the grandfather clock in our shack, that will make three.

We leave the rustic woods for a paved road, then coast downhill into downtown Sun Flower. There are only three streets of businesses surrounded by older neighborhoods. After a few turns, we're on Seventh Street where single-storied houses all have the same L-shaped design—except for the towering home at 189 Seventh Street. It looks like a mini-castle with stone walls, turrets, green hedges, and cobbled paths circling a pond with a stone frog fountain.

“I always wondered about this house.” Becca stares up in awe. “Whenever I ride by, I imagine there's a princess trapped inside the turret.”

“Kidnapped by a fire-breathing dragon who is really an enchanted prince,” I say, playing along.

“The princess's kiss will turn him into a prince,” Becca adds, “but his fire breath could kill her, and he loves her too much to risk her life.”

I sigh. “Poor dragon.”

Leo looks at us like we're crazy. “It's physically impossible for a reptile to breathe fire,” he says. “And a dragon is a mythological creature.”

“But dragons are cool,” I say, winking at Becca. I spin my bike around and point down the block to a street corner with a bench. “Let's get to spying. That bus stop will make a good stakeout location.”

“I didn't bring my surveillance drones,” Leo says. “But my phone has a spy app with flashlight, sonic alert, voice disguise, zoom cam, and voice recorder.”

“I have my spy pack.” I reach up to pat my backpack. “I've added disguises—a wig, a hat, dark glasses, and a fake mustache.”

“A mustache would look a little silly on me.” Becca giggles as she puts her finger under her nose to demonstrate. “And Leo is too young for facial hair.”

Younger than you know
, I think.

“Disguises are useful surveillance tools.” Leo nods at me approvingly. “We may have to wait all day for someone to enter or exit the house.”

“Or we could knock on the door and ask about the photo,” Becca suggests.

I grin. “That could work too.”

We park our bikes in the driveway, then follow the cobbled path around the frog fountain and up the steep front steps. Instead of a doorbell, there's a dragon-head door knocker.

“A dragon guards the door,” Becca teases, then thuds the door knocker.

I draw back, almost expecting a fiery roar, but nothing happens … until the door opens.

Standing in front of us is a movie-star gorgeous guy. He's college-aged and looks familiar. When he smiles, his teeth are white enough to sell toothpaste.

“May I help you?” he asks in a British accent.

I glance over at Becca, expecting her to do the talking since she's our club's social operative. But she's staring like she's been hypnotized.

I must be staring too, because it's Leo who speaks up.

“Good afternoon,” he says with a formal nod. “I'm Leopold, and these are my friends Kelsey and Becca.”

“My mates call me Reggie. I do hope you're selling something edible. My cupboards are quite bare.” He looks at my backpack hopefully. “Do you have biscuits, I mean, cookies?”

“Sorry.” I shake my head. “We're not selling anything.”

“My bad luck,” Reggie says lightly. “So what can I do for you?”

Becca snaps out of her trance and flashes a sweet smile. “We'd just like to ask you a few questions. We're doing a school project on—”

“Unique architecture,” Leo says.

“And we're interested in your house,” I finish.

“Happy to oblige,” Reggie says cheerfully. “Go on.”

I zip open my spy pack and take out a notebook, a pen, and a granola bar. “Here, this should help your hunger.” I offer him the granola bar. “I hope you like peanut-butter caramel.”

“My new favorite food,” he says, ripping off the wrapping.

“Your house is amazing—like a suburban castle.” I flip open the notebook official-like. “When was it built?”

“Let me think …” He gulps down half of the granola bar in one bite. “1957.”

I jot this down in my notebook. “How long have you lived here?”

“Ten years,” Reggie says.

Drats. That's not long enough to know about our photo. I'm ready to give up, but Becca steps forward.

“Do you know who lived here before you?” she asks.

“I certainly do.” Reggie nods. “My granddad built this house. He's gone now, and Grandmum lives in Arizona. You'd do better to interview her. I don't know much about architecture.”

“Do you know about this?” Leo reaches into his pocket and pulls out the boy-with-tortoise photograph.

“Blimey, it's Granddad. My sister's youngest boy is the spitting image of him.” Reggie pushes back his hair as he leans in for a closer look. “Where in the world did you get this?”

“Inside a clock,” Leo says. “It slipped out when the clock chimed.”

Reggie gasps. “Not a grandfather clock?”

“How did you know?” Leo's blond brows arch like question marks.

“I haven't seen the clock since I was a child, but I've always wondered what happened to it. I don't know if I'm more astonished that you found this photo or that you got Grandfather's blasted clock to work properly.”

“It was a challenge,” Leo admits. “The clock was dismantled and had more broken parts than working ones.”

“But Leo put it back together.” Becca gestures proudly at Leo and he blushes. “We found it in an old shack on my property. Any idea how it got there?”

“I do indeed,” Reggie surprises me by saying. “Regretfully, I can't tell you because it's a dusty skeleton in my family closet, and the truth would hurt people I love.”

“Keeping secrets isn't easy,” I say, my spy pack heavy on my shoulders.

“But won't you tell us, please?” Becca asks in a cajoling voice. “Leo worked so hard to fix the clock, and we're dying of curiosity. We won't tell anyone.”

“The margin of risk is slim since we don't know your family,” Leo adds.

“We'll cross our hearts and promise to keep your secret.” I make a solemn cross gesture over my heart. “We just want to know how the grandfather clock ended up in an old shack.”

“And why the boy—your grandfather—was riding a turtle,” Becca says.

“Not a turtle,” Mr. Know-It-All Leo corrects. “An Aldabra tortoise.”

“A tortoise is still a turtle,” Becca argues.

“You're both right.” Reggie nods approvingly. “Contrary to popular belief, tortoises are turtles rather than a separate group. The tortoise in this photo is an
Aldabrachelys gigantea
—commonly known as an Aldabra.”

“I've only seen them in zoos.” Becca's voice rises with her passion for animals. “My mom runs Wild Oaks Sanctuary, and we've had box turtles but never a giant tortoise.”

“Renee Morales is your mother?” Reggie asks, surprised.

“You know Mom?” Becca's ponytail dangles over her shoulder as she leans forward.

“I saw her in a TV interview about Wild Oaks Sanctuary and called for information on becoming a volunteer. She set up an appointment for me, but I got a call back for a commercial and had to cancel. I have mad respect for the work your mother does at Wild Oaks. I'm all for helping animals.”

“We are too,” I say with a fond look at my club mates.

“I'm amazed that you tracked me down from just an old photo.” He rubs his stubbly chin thoughtfully as he stares at us. “You kids worked so hard that you deserve to know the whole story. I'm a good judge of character and feel I can trust you with a secret I've kept for a long time. Here's what really happened to my grandfather's grandfather clock …”

- Chapter 4 -

Mystery Solved

A short time later, we're sitting on stone benches beside a stone fountain, water spilling from a big-mouthed frog. Reggie offers us glasses of root beer bubbling with scoops of vanilla ice cream.

“My cupboards are bare but I found ice cream in the fridge. Nothing better than a root beer float on a crisp spring day,” Reggie says in his lilting accent. “I'll start my story with some family history.”

Becca, Leo, and I lean on the edge of the bench to face Reggie. A cool breeze swirls around us, as if it's listening for secrets too.

“As a child, I didn't see my grandparents often because I lived in England and they were here in Sun Flower,” Reggie says, clasping his frosty glass. “But a decade ago, my parents, sister, and I moved here because Granddad was ill. After he died, Grandmum moved to a senior community in Arizona. My parents stayed here because we're quite big on tradition so it was important to keep the house in the family.” He wipes off ice cream that drips down the side of his frothy glass and licks his fingers. “Grandmum's mobile home is much smaller than this house so she left furniture behind—including Granddad's grandfather clock.”