The Mystery of the Third Lucretia by Susan Runholt Read Free Book Online Page A

We’ve already been to a bunch of tourist places. This will give us something interesting to do.”
    â€œYou mean, like, spy on Gallery Guy? I don’t think that’s such a great idea, Lucas. He’s not a nice man. Even you think he’s mean.”
    â€œHello-o! How much trouble do you think we can get into in the middle of a crowded museum like this? What’s he going to do—pull a gun or chase us around with a knife in front of hundreds of people? It will be fun!” she said again.
    Suddenly I realized she was right. We’d been to a whole lot of tourist places, most of which I’d been to when Mom and I were in London before. Most tourist places are more set up for grown-ups than for teenagers, and to be honest, sometimes they’re boring. Spying on a guy who might be up to something really big and important did seem way more interesting.
    During this whole time, we were so busy with what we were saying that we’d sort of forgotten to look for Mom. Suddenly I felt a tap on my back, which scared the meep out of me, and there she was, standing behind us. I felt like Lucas and I needed more time to figure out how to handle the situation, but we just had to go on the best we could.
    â€œHi, Mom,” I said, trying to smile.
    â€œHi, guys,” she said. “I’m glad to see you survived your day in one piece.”
    Normally Lucas and I would have made some sarcastic comments, asking her how much trouble she thought we could get into when we had to talk to her on Robert’s mobile phone every hour. But I for one was too busy thinking about Gallery Guy to come up with any smart remarks.
    Mom squeezed in beside me at the rail. “How was it seeing London on your own?”
    â€œFine,” I said, “just fine.” Great conversation I was making.
    â€œWe’re kind of tired,” Lucas said, as if explaining why I couldn’t think of anything more original to say. “Why don’t you tell us about your day first? How was it? We’ll tell you about our day later.” Lucas is always cool in a crisis.
    â€œOkay,” Mom said, but she raised her eyebrows a little, as if she wasn’t sure what was going on. She really does have a suspicious mind.
    â€œHow was my day? Well, I’m having a heck of a time. I have a photographer to help me take pictures in the British Museum and we’re going to start shooting tomorrow, but I don’t like any of the themes I’ve come up with for the story, so I’m not even sure what we’re going to take pictures of.”
    The National Gallery was about to close, and the landing was getting more and more crowded. A school group had come out behind us, and all these little kids were playing around and jostling us.
    I started giving them dirty looks over my shoulder and said, “Mom, could we—” I was going to ask if we could get the meep out of there, when suddenly I saw Gallery Guy coming out the museum door. He didn’t have his easel or his painting with him, and he didn’t even glance in our direction. I was glad he didn’t see us, but having him so close to us still made me nervous.
    â€œYou want to go?” Mom said, and turned.
    â€œNo!” I said quickly. “I mean, could we just wait here a second?”
    Lucas said, “Yeah, we’ve been inside all afternoon, and just as you came up we were saying how fun it is to look over everything happening on Trafalgar Square. I especially like the buses.”
    â€œSure,” Mom said, but I saw her following my eyes as I watched Gallery Guy going down the steps to the sidewalk.
    â€œWho’s that?” she asked. “What’s going on here?”
    â€œThat’s just a guy we saw in the Rembrandt room,” I said, ignoring her second question. It maybe wasn’t the whole truth, but it was the truth and nothing but the truth, and it sounded especially honest coming right after