Skylar Robbins: The Mystery of the Hidden Jewels - Carrie Cross (most popular novels of all time TXT) 📗

footprint there was an X. The same curved X that was written on the back of Xandra’s picture.

X marks the spot.

Now I just have to figure out where to take footstep number one.

The fragile bird’s nest papers teased me. Where did the map start, and what did the symbols on it mean? I was having trouble figuring it out by myself. I needed backup, and looked forward to talking it over with Alexa.

I picked up Xandra Collins’s picture and smiled at her. She smiled back, as if she knew I was starting to figure out her clues.

 

18

The Threat

The next morning before breakfast I went into the bathroom to brush my teeth and take a shower. Something stunk. Bad. No one used this bathroom except me, and I hadn’t gone yet. But something reeked. Maybe one of our hundred-year-old pipes was leaking and something was rotting. I stepped into the shower and tried to ignore the stench. My dad and the construction crew would have to figure out what was stinking and fix it.

While I blow-dried my hair, I tried to decide which shoes to wear. Ugh, something really smelled. Looking forward to science class when I’d see Dustin again, I figured I’d put on a little eye shadow. I pulled out the center drawer, where I kept my makeup.

Ignado’s threat suddenly became crystal clear. A pile of what looked like rat turds were sprinkled across the back of my hand mirror and squished on the cover of my eye shadow. There was a nasty brown streak on the cover of my lip gloss. Definitely some kind of poop. There were no stray animal hairs or paw prints, just piles of rodent dung plopped on my mirror and smeared on my makeup. Maybe a rat didn’t leave these, I thought. Maybe a human put them there on purpose. I could picture Smack, hands on his hips, legs bowed, smirking at me. But that couldn’t be what was smelling up my bathroom. There were only a few turds and smears fouling up my makeup drawer.

I whirled around and looked out the open door and down the hall. No one was there. Taking a quick breath, my eyes darted into every corner of the bathroom. I expected rats to pop out and bite me at any second. The back of my neck prickled. Nothing moved. I needed my detective tools and rushed back into my room, grabbing my Porta-detective kit. Armed with my fingerprinting materials, mini-mag glass, and an evidence envelope, I ran back into the bathroom and pulled on a pair of latex gloves, snapping them tightly against my wrists.

I opened the drawer on the right side of the vanity, pulling it all the way out. All it contained was my brushes, combs, a curling iron, and my blow drier. No clues, but I planned to dust it for fingerprints.

Then I opened the left-hand drawer. And lurched backward, putting my hand over my mouth while I tried not to throw up. I saw its tail first.

Nestled in the back corner was a putrid, decaying rat. Its rancid guts spilled over the edges of its split gray skin like pudding. I bent over, clutched my stomach, and dry heaved. The stench was horrible. I had to get rid of it, but there was no way any particle of dead rat was touching me. I could barely stand to look at it. Grabbing a trashcan liner from the cupboard below the sink, I wrapped it around my hand. Leaned away from the drawer and glanced at the soft, dead rodent, so disgusted I was ready to throw up. I couldn’t actually pick up a dead animal, could I?

Then I pictured Smack and Ignado, smirking at me, calling me, “Little Miss Detective.” I was stronger than they were. I could do this. I would do this. That was my motto. Taking a deep breath, I reached my hand forward with the trash bag wrapped around my fingers. Ugh! Picked up the squishy, bloated morsel by its stiff, skinny tail, and with one quick motion I flipped it into the plastic bag. Spun the bag around to seal it up and then closed it with a twist tie. I couldn’t wait to let go of it, and flung it onto the floor by the door. Then I stepped into the tub, reached up and opened the window to let the smell out.

I looked back into my makeup drawer. A few stray rat hairs littered the bottom. Besides the hairs and the poop smeared on my cosmetics, there were no clues. When I got home from school I could clean it out and wash my mascara and eye shadow with anti-bacterial soap. Or maybe throw them out and buy new ones. I’d have to completely disinfect the left-hand drawer.

Resting my hands on the new granite countertop, I closed my eyes and tried to hold my breath while I thought about the dead rat. It was definitely a message. Maybe Smack knew that I was sneaking around behind my parents’ backs, hoping they wouldn’t find out I was looking for the jewels. His workers were in our house constantly, snooping. Every time I turned around, Dusty, that lint-thin creep with the yellow hair, was staring at me. Probably overheard every argument I’d had with my mom. She was obviously overprotective, and Smack’s crew had been all up in our stuff for weeks. They had to know I wouldn’t tell my parents that we were competing for a million dollar prize or I’d get myself in big trouble. And that made me really mad.

As soon as I got mad, I started to feel better. Stronger. Back in control.

What did they think they could do to me when my parents were paying them and my dad was right downstairs working in his lab? Booby-trap something?

Suddenly it felt like the floor shifted beneath me as if I was about to black out. Maybe that’s why the dumbwaiter got to the bottom floor and stopped behind the locked door! Had Smack or Ignado rigged the dumbwaiter knowing I’d ride it to find the hidden floor? Were they right behind me, following Xandra’s clues?

No. Not possible.

They could have used their tools to break through our walls and get to the hidden floor if they knew that’s where I was headed, or if they knew that’s where the next clue was hidden. They were putting up new drywall all over the place. It would have been way too easy for them to cover their tracks. Smack’s crew had access to our whole house and every tool imaginable. So they must have known I was one step ahead of them. Which was why they were trying to frighten me with stupid threats.

Although to be honest, the dead rat had me completely freaked. Not only had they planted it in my bathroom and smeared my makeup with poop when no one was looking, they knew me well enough to realize I wouldn’t tell my parents that they were sending me a warning.

Time to ditch the evidence. Picking up the rat bag, I ran down two flights of stairs as fast as I could and ducked into the garage, dumping the bag into a garbage can. When I walked back into the house my spine tingled. I turned around and sure enough Ignado was leaning against one wall, staring at me with one, unblinking eye.

“Hi, Ignado,” I said, folding my arms. I stood perfectly still and looked at him calmly. “All done working in my bathroom?”

He said nothing. Just turned around and fussed nervously with a paint pan. Busted. I’d won this round, and Ignado knew it.

But the game was far from over.

 

19

Bird’s Nest Clue

There was no time to talk to Alexa during class and tell her what was going on. At lunch, we walked down the cafeteria aisle, taking icky entrees from under the warming lamps and putting them on our trays. I passed greasy cardboard bowls of macaroni and cheese that looked dry and dark on top and picked up a wrinkled hot dog. It looked like a science experiment from Mr. Bidden’s class. “I don’t know why I begged my mom to let me buy my lunch,” I said. “This stuff is gross.”

“But bringing a sack lunch is so elementary school. At least the salads look OK.”

We dug money out of our purses and paid, while the kids behind us racked metal trays forward, rushing us out of the line. Stepping into the fresh air, we looked around for a seat at a cool table. I spotted Dustin eating with Brendan. Alexa saw an open space across from them and elbowed me.

“No way. I’m not just going over there and sitting with him,” I whispered.

“Have it your way,” Alexa said, as Emelyn Peters and her friends pounced on the open bench across from Dustin and the other cutest guys in school. Emelyn’s loud giggles echoed across the quad. Glancing back into the covered area, I checked out the other popular table. The guys were eating and the girls were texting while they glanced around to see if anyone was looking at them.

“Ugh,” I said. “Let’s go sit on the lawn.”

We sat down cross-legged and rested our trays on our laps. I took a bite of the salty hot dog. It tasted a lot better than it looked. “So how’s the treasure hunt going?” Alexa asked, leaning forward with her dimples showing.

I ran my hand over the scratchy grass, its roughness tickling my palm. “Glad you asked, because I need your help.” I looked up at her, smiling. “I found pieces of a map inside a bird’s nest in the gazebo. They were part of the map I found on the hidden floor.”

“A bird’s nest?” Alexa stopped chewing and looked at me. “How’d you think to look in there?”

“I had this weird dream about the gazebo so I decided to search it,” I said, wrapping a strand of hair behind my ear. “When we first looked at the house, I saw a bird’s nest up in the rafters. It was made of twigs and pine needles, and lined with pieces of dirty white paper. Those slips of paper must have stuck in my brain, and the dream reminded me to look at them. When I investigated the nest I saw footprints drawn on the papers. They matched the ones on the partial map I found.”

Alexa shook her head. “You’re amazing. Now what?”

I swallowed. “That’s the problem. The map shows how many paces to go in different directions, but it doesn’t tell where to begin.” I looked at Alexa, scrunching my napkin into a little ball.

She guessed what I was thinking and her eyes widened. “Maybe I can help you figure out where to start.”

“I was hoping you’d say that,” I said.

Alexa is way better than I am at seeing where things are in relation to each other and how things fit together. She loves puttering around in my dad’s gadget room, and figured out how the remote controls for our television and DVR worked without anyone even having to explain them. Alexa can find her way around a new neighborhood much better than I can. I always follow her when we explore on our bikes because I’d probably get us lost.

“I have something else to tell you.” The hair on the back of my neck prickled when I thought about it.

“What?” Alexa asked. The freckles stood out on her cheeks.

“The construction crew remodeling our house? They’re looking for the jewels too.”

Alexa looked at me and the hand holding her fork dropped into her lap. “No way.”

“Yes. I’ve caught them snooping more than once. And one of them—” I looked away. Didn’t want to say it.

Alexa stopped chewing. “Go on.”

“Seemed like he was—threatening me, almost.”

“No way,” Alexa whispered, so intensely it almost seemed like she’d shouted. “How?”

“He loaned me his screwdriver, and then he totally grilled me about what I used it for when I gave it back.”

Alexa’s forehead wrinkled as she thought about it. “That’s not so bad, really.” She stared at me. “Something else must have happened.”

I didn’t want to tell her, but I had to. “This morning I found rat turds in my makeup drawer.”

“Maybe you have rats,” Alexa said, sensibly. When she saw my expression, her face fell. “It wasn’t rats?”

“Well, there was rat poop all over the place when we moved in. But I think this particular poop was put in my bathroom drawer