Project Sweet Life by Brent Hartinger Read Free Book Online

conclusions now too?
    As Golden Girl disappeared into the vault, Happy Pants slipped outside the bank to the little concrete plaza between the building and the parking lot.
    Victor adjusted his glasses. “Where is she going?”
    “We’ll see in a minute!” Curtis said. “Now shhhhh!”
    “What ‘shhhhh’? We’re across a busy street and insideanother building. How could she hear us?”
    Right then, Happy Pants looked over, right at us, just like in Rear Window . We all flinched at exactly the same time.
    “She’s not looking at us,” Curtis hurried to say. “There’s a glare on these windows. She can’t even see us.”
    I wasn’t sure if this was true or not—after all, we’d been able to see them all afternoon. In any event, Happy Pants didn’t keep looking at us. Instead, she hurried across the little plaza to the curb in front of the bank where a vendor was selling flowers out of a bucket.
    They exchanged a few quick words, and she nodded to a particular bouquet. He handed her the flowers, and she palmed him some money.
    “Get you boys anything more?” the waitress said suddenly.
    We all jumped in surprise.
    We’d been so caught up in the events across the street that we hadn’t noticed her.
    “What?” Curtis said. “No! Nothing, thanks!”
    The waitress sighed loudly before disappearing again.I wasn’t sure what had finally gotten her so bent out of shape.
    We turned back to the bank where Happy Pants was now hurrying inside with her flowers.
    “That’s it!” Curtis said. “That’s the signal! Now the flower vendor is going to follow the woman in the white pantsuit so he can rob her of whatever she takes out of her safe-deposit box.”
    “But why bother with the flowers?” I said. “Why not just call him on her cell phone?”
    “Because of all the security cameras in the bank,” Curtis said. “If she used her cell phone, it might be obvious when they investigate that she was in on the crime. I bet they change their signal every time they rob someone new!”
    “What do we do now?” I said. “Call the police?”
    “We could use my cell phone,” Victor said. “But oh, wait! I sold it at our pointless garage sale!”
    “Would you let it go !” Curtis hissed at Victor. “We’re about to capture a bunch of bank robbers. When we get that hundred-thousand-dollar reward, you’ll be able to buy a hundred cell phones.”
    “But we need to call the police!” I said, lurching up from the table.
    “Wait! Something else is happening,” Curtis said.
    I looked back at the bank. Golden Girl had slinked out of the building and was sashaying across the little plaza. Whatever she had taken from her safe-deposit box was small enough to fit inside her purse.
    Meanwhile, there was a bustle of activity inside the bank. All of the tellers had left their Plexiglas cages and one of them was locking up the front doors. The loan officers had emerged from their cubicles too. It was five o’clock, but it didn’t seem like anyone was leaving. It was more like they were lingering, waiting for something to happen.
    It seemed like Gladys Kravitz was somehow the center of attention, even if she didn’t know it exactly.
    Then one of the tellers emerged from a door in the back of the bank carrying a white cake with candles.
    A cake?
    People were smiling. Gladys Kravitz caught sight of the cake and looked surprised, then embarrassed, then grateful.
    “Wait,” I said, confused. “What’s going on?”
    We kept watching. People were laughing now, including Gladys Kravitz. At some point, Happy Pants had transferred the flowers into a vase, which she now presented to Gladys Kravitz.
    A party. That’s what was going on. Maybe it was a birthday party, or maybe Gladys Kravitz was leaving the bank, and the others were giving her a little bon voyage. That was the reason the teller hadn’t wanted to let Golden Girl into her safe-deposit box—and why Happy Pants had been watching them so closely: They didn’t