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

they would still feel the same way if Crew Gang barged in and tried to steal the jewels, ruining everything. I imagined a violent fight: Smack and Ignado against Mac and Johnny, with my dad rushing in to break it up, all caught live on AFX for the evening news.

Trina Bradshaw hustled over. “We’re almost ready to roll. Let’s have you stand still so we can get a reading on the light.” A guy with a fleshy pink face and a big belly came over and held a square light meter right in front of my chest, and then said something to Gordon who nodded from behind the camera. Mac and his buddy tweaked the position of the discs until the guy with the belly said, “That’s it. Right there.”

“Cell phones off, everybody,” the director shouted.

My mom rushed over to me and pulled my long hair over my shoulders in front. “You look beautiful. Knock ‘em dead.” She walked away as Trina ran back up to me and Gordon started to count backward.

“And three, two, and—” He pointed at Trina.

“Today we join thirteen-year-old detective Skylar Robbins for the conclusion of a three-year-old mystery concerning the famous Xandra Collins jewelry collection,” Trina Bradshaw gushed. “The excavation crew is ready and waiting for your instructions, Skylar.” Trina was all teeth. “First, tell the world how you figured it out.” She stuck the microphone right up to my mouth and I smelled her sour breath on its fuzzy black cover.

I cleared my throat and looked into the camera. My stomach had never been jumpier, and I almost would have given up the backwards dance to get out of doing this interview. But then I thought of the future of my detective agency and tried to ignore my nerves. “I just followed the clues that Xandra Collins left. One led to the next and it was really pretty simple. I couldn’t believe in three years that her heirs never figured it out.”

Trina smiled. “Witness the genius of Skylar Robbins! Walk us through your search for the jewels.” Trina stuck her microphone back under my lips and waited for me to tell my story.

I looked back into the camera and took a deep breath. “After we moved in I noticed fingerprints on the windowsill in the room at the top of the turret, and they led me to an empty cupboard. I used the black light from my detective kit and found a note on the wall that Xandra Collins had written in invisible ink.”

While I told my story, a photographer took shots of me while Gordon filmed my interview. Another cameraman sat in the crane and waited by the railing with the digger. A tan, muscular guy named Vladimir held a shovel and a bucket of tools. He had ragged light brown hair and crooked teeth, and he spoke with an accent. Talking into the microphone, I described the dumbwaiter and the pile of boxes, the footprint map, and the bird’s nest clue.

“How did you end up at the edge of this cliff?” Trina Bradshaw asked. I waited while the crane made noise as the cherry picker carried the second cameraman out over the side of the mountain. When I turned to look at the camera, I thought I saw a round shape reflecting out of the next-door neighbor’s bushes. Could it be Ignado’s binoculars—spying on me again? As soon as I focused on it, the image vanished. I shook my head and stared, but there was nothing there. Maybe my imagination was playing tricks on me.

Forcing my eyes away, I tried not to stammer as I kept talking into the microphone. “I wouldn’t have found the location without the help of my smart best friend, Alexa O’Reilly. I couldn’t tell where the map started, but she looked into the backyard from a window in the turret and figured it out. Once she told me where to take the first step, I followed the footprints on the map, and they led me to a rusty metal box that was buried underneath the floor in the greenhouse.” Looking over the heads of the film crew, I spotted Alexa standing with my mom. Her mouth dropped open and she clamped her hand over it when I said her name and gave her credit for helping me figure out where the jewels were buried.

I hoped when this interview was broadcast on TV that Dustin and Brendan would see it. Not to mention Emelyn Peters, Pat Whitehead, and all of the other kids who made fun of Alexa and didn’t recognize how intelligent she really was. She promised to make sure her parents watched the news when my segment aired. Alexa’s dad needed to hear how his daughter used her brains to help me solve the mystery. It was time he realized that Alexa was trying as hard as she could, and that she was smart, even though she had trouble reading and spelling.

“Inside the box there was a leaf, a buckle, a flower, a torn measuring tape, a packet of nasturtium seeds, and some twine,” I continued.

“How did those clues lead you to this mountainside?” Trina smiled like an overgrown Barbie. I looked past the camera at Gordon and he gave me an encouraging nod.

“When I studied the clues in the box, I realized that the edges of the dead leaf had the same curvy shape as the leaves on the yellow-flowering weeds at the base of those boulders.” I pointed down the hillside. “The dried-up flower had little dead petals on it that used to be mustard flowers. Inside the packet of nasturtium seeds there was a tiny gold key, and a note from Xandra Collins that said if I put the clues together and found the key I knew what it would unlock.” Opening my hand, I revealed the little key. As Gordon zoomed in for a close-up, I heard a motorcycle climbing slowly up the hill.

So did everyone else. Trina dropped the microphone down by her side and waited for it to pass. It didn’t. It stopped. My nightmare was about to come true—right while I was being filmed for the six o’clock news.

Alexa looked at me and I gave her a little nod, so scared I felt numb. She hurried into the side yard for a look at the street.

“And that’s the key to Xandra Collins’s jewelry box?” Trina continued, showing her teeth. She had no idea that a much more exciting event was unfolding just beyond the reach of her camera and microphone.

I gulped dryly and tried to work up some saliva so I could continue. “That’s also when I realized what the twine was for. Her jewelry box is buried in the hillside,” I said, wondering what was going on out front, and hoping Alexa was safe. “The torn measuring tape stops at five feet, eight inches. I tied a twelve-and-a-half-foot length of twine five feet, eight inches down the guardrail. Vladimir needs to climb down the side of the canyon right by the twine. At the very end of it he’ll see a mustard plant and nasturtiums. There is a black X spray-painted on the rocks behind them. That’s where he needs to dig into the hillside and look for the box.”

Just then Alexa raced into the backyard, looking terrified. Pointing at the door, she flexed the muscles in both of her arms. I knew exactly what she meant: Crew gang was back. More determined than ever to snatch Xandra’s jewels.

I signed, 9-1-1. Alexa nodded and ran into the house to call the police. Sledge and Ignado could be on their way up to our front door right now. What if they had weapons? Once I found Xandra’s jewelry box, would Smack wrestle it out of my hands at gunpoint and then zoom down the hill, carrying it away on his motorcycle?

Was this case about to end in a giant fail?

Trina wasn’t about to let her prime-time piece get interrupted by some street noise. She grabbed my arm in an iron grip, grinning over her shoulder at the camera. “Show us where you found the next clue, Detective Skylar,” she demanded, and we headed toward the edge of the cliff.

The cameraman moved over to the guardrail and the director yelled, “Action!” Tom bent over the side of the railing, aiming the boom down the steep canyon wall. Vladimir climbed into a harness that was attached to Tom’s tractor with a thick cable and a huge metal clamp. He stepped over the guardrail and let himself slowly down the hillside, sliding one hand down the cable and holding a bucket of tools in his other, gritting his crooked teeth. When he got to the end of the twine he was in front of the patch of mustard plants and nasturtiums. He batted them around like Ronnie had until he spotted the X.

My eyes whipped back and forth between the camera and my house as I tried not to panic. Alexa ran back into the yard and fingerspelled something to me in sign language with her eyes open wide: C-O-P-S. She pointed her index fingers out, and then whipped them toward her body: COMING.

I heard a faint siren growing louder, and signed, GO SEE. Trina looked at the director and made a slashing motion across her throat. “Cut!” the director shouted. Everyone stopped and waited for the siren to pass. Except it didn’t. Alexa gaped at me as the siren made one last loud whoop and shut down. A cop car had just stopped right in front of our house.

The director’s head whipped back and forth as he looked at me and then toward the side yard, as if he was hoping to see what was going on in the street. Trina glared at him as if having the camera on her was much more important than someone getting a ticket. His cheeks turned red as he yelled, “Roll film!” and Trina put the microphone up to my mouth.

“That’s exactly where he needs to start digging,” I said, looking at her and then into the camera, dying to know what was happening out front. Hoping the cops would catch Ignado and Smack before they barged into our yard and demanded that we hand over the jewels.

Vladimir spread his legs, pressing his shoes against the hillside. He grabbed a shovel and started to dig into the mountain. Gordon caught it all on film while everyone waited impatiently, some talking intensely on tiny cells. A minute later Vladimir waved his hand and called for everyone’s attention. “Cell phones off,” the director yelled again.

I stared at the gate. What was happening in the street?!

Reaching into one of the holes he had dug, Vladimir gently scraped the earth away using a small pick and a brush. The cameraman in the cherry picker zoomed in for a close-up. “I’m finding somezing,” Vladimir announced.

A guy wearing a headset shouted, “I need better audio!” and Tom aimed the boom down the steep canyon wall. Looking toward the street, I tried not to panic. No one had burst through the side yard gate. Yet.

Trina stuck her stinky microphone into my face. “Well, Skylar, what do you think?”

I took a deep breath and swallowed my fear. “I think he’s about to dig up Xandra Collins’s jewels.”

Moments later, Vladimir reached into the hole he had dug, and his hand came out holding a box wrapped in dirty plastic. After resting the box in the bucket with his tools, he climbed back up the hillside and vaulted over the guardrail. I knew he would let me open the box in front of the cameras, since this had been a part of the contract with AFX that my father had insisted on. Vladimir handed me Xandra Collins’s jewelry box. “It is yours.”

Trina looked at me triumphantly and said, “AFX is proud to capture this historic moment, LIVE!” I tore off the plastic bag. Curling designs were carved into rich, dark wood. There was a gold lock on the front of the box with a tiny keyhole. “Any last words from the Skylar Robbins Detective Agency?” she asked, and I nodded.

I cradled the heavy box in my hands. The microphone appeared in front of my mouth, and I smiled, holding up the key. “Case closed.”

The director yelled, “Cut!” Trina Bradshaw motioned frantically, and Tom and Gordon hurried right over.

“We need a nice tight shot of her opening up the box,” she snapped, using her raspy, everyday voice. Mac and his friend angled the Litediscs around until the guy holding the light meter in front of me nodded. AFX was ready to roll. “This is the end of a three-year search for Xandra Collins’s jewels,” Trina announced. “AFX is honored to be the