Kristy and the Cat Burglar

  His questions rang in my ears. Why didn’t the police find that bullet casing and the marker when they searched the house? Now that I thought about it, I remembered thinking it was a little odd myself — the way they were just lying out there in plain sight. Had someone placed them there after the search? And if so, who? Was someone trying to frame Sergeant Johnson? If so, why would he (or she) want to?

  I remembered something else that afternoon, something that bothered me. It was about the timing of events on the day of the burglary. I knew it had only been a matter of minutes between the time the alarm went off and the time Sergeant Johnson had approached Karen, David Michael, and me. A few minutes in which to do all of the following:

  1) Draw the red cat on the mailbox.

  2) Crack the safe.

  3) Grab the diamonds.

  4) Leave the house.

  5) Run to the spot where I was standing without showing any sign of stress or exertion.

  Even if, say, he’d drawn the cat earlier (I could have missed seeing it when I first passed the mailbox), he couldn’t do all the other things in such a short period of time. Especially considering that he hadn’t looked at all flushed or hurried when I first saw him. He just looked like himself, the Sergeant Johnson I knew and trusted. And his main concern was for our safety.

  When I thought of that, I turned over on my bed and buried my face in my pillow. I remembered Sergeant Johnson ordering us to sit in his car and stay there until he was sure it was safe. Then I remembered that when he’d driven us home he’d turned on the lights to please David Michael.

  Sergeant Johnson was a friend.

  He was a good man and a good police officer.

  And now he was under arrest.

  I’d helped to find the evidence that led to his arrest, but now I was questioning myself. Did the evidence really add up? Maybe we’d been in too much of a hurry to solve the case and win that reward money.

  “Kristy!” I heard Sam calling me from outside my door.

  “Leave me alone,” I called back. “I’m trying to think.”

  “Aww,” he said. “Don’t do that. You might strain your brain. Anyway, there’s someone here to see you.”

  Oh, no. “Who?” I asked. “Is it the police?”

  Sam laughed. “I don’t think so,” he said. “Not unless they’re accepting eighth-grade wise guys on the force these days.”

  Huh? I rolled off my bed and headed out of my room and down the stairs.

  Cary Retlin was waiting for me in the downstairs hall.

  “Having a little beauty rest?” he asked me, lifting that eyebrow.

  “I don’t need it,” I shot back, tossing my head. “Actually, I was thinking. Something you probably never do.”

  “That’s where you’re wrong. I think all the time. In fact, I’m even thinking now. I’m thinking I made a mistake to come over here.” He turned to leave.

  “Wait,” I said. “I’m sorry.” I’d never seen Cary act so sensitive. Something was bothering him. “What’s up?” I sat down on the stairs and motioned for him to take a seat too.

  He didn’t speak for a moment. Then he began. “I read about Sergeant Johnson’s arrest,” he said. “It doesn’t seem right. I mean, it’s been fun to work on this mystery. You know my philosophy: Complications make life more interesting. But complications are one thing, and unfairness is another. I can’t stop thinking about it.”

  “Me too!” I exclaimed. How odd, to be agreeing with Cary Retlin. “I keep going over everything in my mind. The puzzle doesn’t quite fit together, but I can’t put my finger on why.”

  “Well, maybe this will help,” Cary said. “Do you remember my telling you that I thought I saw a light on in an upstairs bedroom at Reinhart Golem’s house on the day of the burglary?”

  I shook my head. “To be honest, I don’t,” I said. I was a little embarrassed. That sounded like something I should have paid attention to.

  “I hardly remembered myself,” Cary said. “Until the other day. Then I started thinking about it, and I haven’t been able to stop.”

  “Tell me more,” I said. I wished I had a pen and the mystery notebook handy, but I didn’t, so I just listened carefully.

  “Well, first of all, I saw the security guard leave the area,” said Cary. “You know, through my binoculars. I really was watching birds out there.”

  I nodded. “Then what?”

  “Then I saw this light go on upstairs in the mansion.” Cary stopped again.

  “And?” I prompted.

  “And then I saw it go off again.”

  My heart started to beat a little quicker. “So that means there was someone in the house,” I said. “But how do we know it wasn’t Sergeant Johnson?”

  Cary paused. “Because I saw him drive up a few minutes later,” he said. “After the alarm went off. Before that, I can tell you for sure that nobody entered or left the house. Whoever stole those diamonds had been in there for a while.”

  “This is very big news,” I said. We were both silent for a moment. Then, before we could start talking again, Charlie came flying through the front door.

  “Ready to go?” he asked. “Sorry I’m late. But we’ll make it on time if we leave now.”

  I checked my watch. It was five-twenty, almost time for our BSC meeting. I turned to Cary. “Let’s go,” I said.

  “Uh — where?” he asked.

  “BSC meeting,” I told him. “Everybody will be there, and we can figure this out.”

  “I don’t know,” said Cary. “Isn’t it all girls and diapers and stuff?”

  “Since when are you afraid of girls?” I asked. I grabbed his arm and practically pulled him out to the car. Ten minutes later, I was calling the meeting to order, and introducing our special guest.

  At first Cary looked totally uncomfortable, sitting in a dining room chair Claudia had brought from downstairs. My BSC friends were surprised to see him, and they were a little uncomfortable too — for about ten seconds. Then Abby teased him by imitating that eyebrow thing he does, and Claudia passed him a Milky Way bar and some Cheez-Its, and soon we all seemed to relax. Still, having Cary in the room was weird. It just shows how far we’ll go to solve a mystery! Cary leafed through the mystery notebook and read our copies of articles about the Cat Burglar while I went quickly over our BSC business. Then we started to talk about the case.

  I asked him to tell everyone what he’d seen. Then we began to talk about what it meant.

  Stacey understood right away. “So this could mean Sergeant Johnson was framed, right?” she asked. “I mean, he wasn’t there, but somebody’s trying to make it look as if he was.”

  “That’s what I think,” I said.

  “But we don’t know who,” Jessi pointed out. “I mean, if Sergeant Johnson didn’t steal the diamonds, who did? And is the thief framing Sergeant Johnson, or is it someone else?”

  “Whoever’s framing him had to have access to his desk,” mused Mary Anne. “Because he stole that marker, and put the diamonds there too.”

  “He had to have access to Sergeant Johnson’s gun too,” Cary pointed out. “Or one just like it.”

  “Okay, so someone who can come and go at the police station, someone who has something against Sergeant Johnson,” I said. I felt a little shiver go down my spine. “Someone like Sergeant Winters.” Suddenly, Sergeant Johnson’s words came back to me. He’d been trying to tell us, but we hadn’t believed him.

  The room was silent for a second.

  Then Mal spoke up. “Sergeant Winters?” she repeated. “But he’s a police officer.”

  “An extremely ambitious police officer,” Cary said slowly, looking at me intently. “A police officer who does not seem too fond of his main competition for the chief’s job.”

  So he’d heard about that too. I nodded. “There’s definitely a lot of tension between Sergeant Johnson and Sergeant Winters,” I said. “Whatever the reason.”

  “Kristy’s right,” Cary told the others
. “You should have seen them when they met in the hall the other day. They were snapping at each other like angry dogs.”

  “Sergeant Winters would have had access to Sergeant Johnson’s office,” said Mary Anne.

  I remembered the last time I’d been at the station, when Sergeant Johnson swore he’d left the door shut. “No question about it,” I said.

  “So he could have taken the marker and planted the diamonds,” said Abby. “But what about the evidence you found at Golem’s house? Did he plant that?”

  “I bet he did,” said Claudia excitedly. She turned to me. “Don’t you remember? We saw Sergeant Winters leaving there the day we found the bullet casing and the marker.”

  “I remember,” said Mary Anne. “He could easily have planted them then.”

  “Wow,” breathed Mal. “This is wild. But what about his motive? Did he do it just because he wants the chief’s job?”

  “Maybe,” said Abby slowly. “Or maybe not. Remember, we don’t know anything about him. He came from somewhere else. We don’t even know where. Maybe he’s the Cat Burglar!”

  We all stopped talking to think about that idea. At first it sounded totally nuts, but the more I considered it, the more sense it made. I didn’t know if it was true. How could I? But I did know that we had to tell someone what we’d figured out.

  “Who can we talk to about this?” I asked my friends. “I mean, we can’t talk to Sergeant Winters, obviously. And Sergeant Johnson isn’t available.”

  Mary Anne spoke up. “What about Reinhart Golem?” she asked shyly.

  “That’s it,” I cried. “Perfect. He’ll take us seriously, and after all, he has a real interest in this case. He wouldn’t want to see the wrong person go to jail.” I reached for the phone. “What’s his number? It’s on his card, in the mystery notebook.”

  Mary Anne found it and read it to me. I dialed, but there was no answer.

  “He’s not home. Let’s just go out there. I bet he’ll be back by the time we arrive.”

  Mary Anne checked her watch. “But it’s almost dinnertime. Maybe he’s at Chez Maurice.”

  Within minutes, we’d made a plan and were on our way. Cary, Abby, Mary Anne, and I were headed out to Golem’s house. The others would go to Chez Maurice. We’d find Reinhart Golem, wherever he was. And soon we’d be on our way to clearing Sergeant Johnson’s name.

  “I think he’s still out,” said Abby. “I don’t see a car, and the house looks all shut up.”

  “Bummer,” Cary said.

  “Let’s knock anyway,” Mary Anne suggested.

  I stepped up to the big front door and lifted the heavy brass knocker. I let it fall three times. Bang. Bang. Bang. The sound seemed to echo inside the house.

  We waited for a few seconds. Nothing happened.

  “Now what do we do?” asked Abby. “Should we —”

  She was interrupted in midthought when the door suddenly swung open.

  “Why, what a lovely surprise!” Golem stood there looking down at us. He was dressed in what I think is called a “smoking jacket,” a cross between a blazer and a fancy bathrobe. It was made of dark blue velvet and had satin lapels. On his feet were matching blue velvet slippers. He had a cigar in one hand and a glass of something — brandy? — in the other. He was smiling broadly.

  “I was just relaxing in the parlor. Won’t you join me?” He led us through the front hall and into a cozy room at the back corner of the house.

  The room was dimly lit. A cushy-looking couch and several overstuffed armchairs, all covered in green velvet, were arranged around the room. Heavy green velvet curtains shut out the late afternoon light. A silver tray holding crystal glasses and a silver ice bucket sat on a highly polished table.

  “Can I offer you a beverage?” asked Golem. For one wild second I thought he was going to pour us each a glass of brandy. “Some spring water, perhaps? Or fruit juice?”

  “We’re really just here to talk,” I said. “Thanks, though.”

  He waved a hand. “Shall we sit, then?” he asked. “I know you must have something of great interest to share. I just wanted to make sure everyone was comfortable.”

  We each took a seat. Cary and I ended up on the couch, while Mary Anne and Abby sat in chairs opposite us. Golem sat in the last chair, the one farthest from the fireplace and nearest to the door. “Lovely,” he murmured. “I’m so glad you’re here. I was just going to call and invite you all over. I understand that the culprit is behind bars, which means we have something to celebrate. And we must talk about the reward.”

  “Well, not quite yet,” said Abby eagerly. “You may not believe this, but we think Sergeant Johnson has been framed. And we think we know who did it.”

  Golem raised his eyebrows. “So very interesting,” he said. “Do go on.”

  Abby started to explain how we’d figured out that Sergeant Johnson was probably innocent. She told him about the things Sergeant Johnson had said to us just before his arrest, and how they had made us begin to wonder why the police hadn’t found the evidence during their search. She explained why we had a hard time believing that Sergeant Johnson could be guilty and told Golem that something just hadn’t felt right to us.

  Abby was on a roll. Mary Anne was quiet, but that was nothing new. She was probably feeling shy. And even I couldn’t fit a word in edgewise. In fact, I was a little irritated that Abby had taken over. After all, I knew Reinhart Golem better than she did. But the important thing then was to put all the facts on the table, and I had to admit she was doing a fine job of that. So far, I had nothing to add.

  Then Abby started to explain how Cary had remembered the light he’d seen in the house. I turned to look at him, wondering why he wasn’t chiming in with his own story. He’d been nearly silent since we’d entered the room.

  His face was pale. And he wasn’t looking at Abby. He didn’t seem to be hearing a word she said. What was the matter with Cary? I almost interrupted Abby to ask him, but instinct made me wait. Instead, I followed his glance. He was staring at something across the room, staring hard.

  I looked to see what had captured his interest. That’s when I saw it.

  Sitting on a side table behind Mary Anne and Abby was — a lamp. But it wasn’t just any lamp.

  It was a blue Tiffany lamp.

  Just like the one we’d read that the Cat Burglar had stolen.

  I checked to see if anyone had seen me looking at it. Abby was still chattering away, and she was looking at Golem. He was looking right back at her, nodding as he puffed on his cigar. Mary Anne was watching him.

  I glanced at Cary. He wasn’t looking at the lamp anymore. Our eyes met for a split second, and I saw that he and I were thinking the same thing.

  My head was spinning. Abby was still talking to Golem, listing all our evidence and explaining the process that had led us to believe that Sergeant Winters had framed Sergeant Johnson.

  But as she talked I realized something. It wasn’t Sergeant Winters at all.

  “So then we figured out that it had to be somebody who had access to Sergeant Johnson’s desk,” Abby said.

  But Sergeant Winters wasn’t the only one who had access, I thought. I remembered that Sergeant Johnson’s office door had been open when he questioned me about finding the marker. Golem was in the building that day too, talking to Sergeant Winters. And that was the day the diamonds were found in Sergeant Johnson’s desk.

  “And we remembered hearing how badly Sergeant Winters wants to be promoted to chief,” Abby was saying.

  What about the marker? When could Golem have taken that? I tried to put it together in my mind. Then I remembered Golem’s saying he’d been called in for questioning early on in the case. He could have grabbed it then and planted it at his house before we came out that day. Of course, he didn’t know who would find it, but he knew someone would.

  “I mean, he came from who-knows-where to join the dinky little Stoneybrook police force,” Abby was saying.

  But Golem
was in France when the burglary took place. Wasn’t he? I glanced at Cary again and thought about the light he’d seen in an upstairs bedroom that day.

  “So, Kristy thinks that it’s even possible that Sergeant Winters is the Cat Burglar,” Abby said. “Right, Kristy?”

  I didn’t hear her. I was lost in my thoughts. I was staring at that blue Tiffany lamp, thinking madly.

  “Kristy?”

  I looked away from the lamp — and right into Reinhart Golem’s eyes. They looked dark now, almost black. I gulped. He’d seen me looking at the lamp, no question about it.

  But had he figured out that I had figured things out?

  “Um — right,” I said, answering Abby. “Listen, I think we’d better head on out now, guys.”

  “What?” Abby looked completely confused.

  “Now?” asked Mary Anne. She was bewildered too. “Why?”

  “Um,” I said, stalling. I couldn’t think of a good excuse.

  Cary jumped in. “Don’t you remember, we told the others we’d meet them?” he said, putting a special edge in his voice, as if to tell Abby and Mary Anne to go along with what he was saying.

  “We did?” asked Abby.

  Mary Anne caught on. “Oh, right,” she said carefully, giving Abby a little look. “I remember now. We did.”

  Abby still looked confused. “Okay,” she said. “Whatever.”

  Cary stood up, and I did too. Abby and Mary Anne followed our lead. We all began to walk toward the door.

  “It was delightful having you all,” said Golem. “Your detective work has been excellent, as always. I’ll have to explore the new angle you’ve brought up.” He didn’t rise from his seat. Instead, he moved his right hand over to a small black box that sat on a table next to his chair. He touched a button on the box and we heard a small click.

  Cary was near the door by then. He reached for the knob and turned it. Or, at least, he tried to.

  “It’s locked,” he whispered. His face was totally white as he looked back at the rest of us.

  “So unlock it,” Abby said.

  “I can’t,” said Cary. “We’re trapped.”