Spy in the Alley by Melanie Jackson Read Free Book Online Page B

him.”
    In response, the light in Mother’s room came on. Haste was in order. I took off through our back gate. This was still lockless, Buzz having explained to us that it was easier for him to patrol if he had access to our property. Huh! Some patroller he was, with burglaries being committed a Frisbee’s throw from our place.
    Pantelli also had a pen and notebook. Twisting his mouth, he spoke out of it sideways, the way gangsters do in old movies. We were both deadly serious about our Junior Block Watch duties. “Maybe more tomato pictures got swiped,” he suggested. “Wonder what’s so special about tomatoes? Could be old man Rinaldi’s hidden something in ’em. Diamonds. Or heroin.”
    Arriving at the Rinaldis’, we scrutinized the tomato stalks suspiciously.
    â€œNow here’s a pair of tough-nosed detectives,” came Jack’s voice. We looked up to see him and two police officers. The officers gave us nice smiles, but ignored us after that, whereas Jack included us in everything he said, by glancing at us, or remarking, “How ’bout that, guys?” For an older person, he wasn’t at all bad.
    â€œI was sleeping, and the alarm went,” he explained. “When I got downstairs, the kitchen door had been jimmied open. I didn’t see anyone, but a bottle of cranberry juice was spilled all over the table. I guess the thief was thirsty,” he shrugged.
    â€œAnything missing?” asked one of the officers, jotting all this down.
    Jack made a rueful grimace. “The thief grabbed my ancient, battered old briefcase, which had my even more ancient and battered old laptop inside. Worth all of about fifty cents. Plus a box of GASP brochures, buttons and other stuff. Man! That’s going to be one disappointed burglar.”
    Pantelli’s dad commented, “Whoever did it must’ve thought the place was vacant, the Rinaldis being in Europe and all.”
    â€œBut somebody broke in earlier,” I interrupted. “Some tomato pictures disappeared.”
    â€œTomato pictures,” repeated the other officer, and the two of them laughed. Huh! I thought. This duo would not go far on the force.
    â€œYou gotta leave lights on,” Mr. Audia advised. “Leave ’em blazing.”
    The first officer controlled his laughter long enough to say, “I agree with Mr. — ”
    â€œAudia,” Pantelli’s dad filled in, beaming. “I’m the Block Watch captain, for two blocks, actually. Lotta Nichols was the other one, for this block, but then she had a hernia, and — ”
    â€œI don’t think we need to hear about Ms. Nichols’ medical history,” the officer said crisply. Holding his notepad aloft, he snapped it shut with a faint smack ! “We’ll give you a case number, Jack. Any more problems, or if you do find something missing, phone us. The number’s here,” and he handed Jack a card.
    â€œSome tomato pictures are missing,” I insisted.
    It was like trying to speak through soundproof glass. In any case, my mother then ran up to us in bathrobe and cucumber face cream, distracting everyone.
    Mothers must have some sort of guild, where they get together and figure out ways to horribly embarrass their daughters. If so, my mom was the president. Her face, gleaming and scented with cucumber lotion, turned first to Jack and then to Mr. Audia. “There’s no danger, is there? I get so worried when Dinah dashes off like this.”
    As I fumed at Mother for making me sound like an out-of-control train, the police officers assured her that their presence would spook any burglar. Mr. Audia then embarked on his theory about keeping all lights on at all times. Jack gazed past Mother’s cucumber-creamed face to Madge.
    â€œHi,” Jack said.
    â€œHi,” said Madge. “I’m sorry about somebody trying to break into your place.”
    Jack grinned happily at