Amber had commented that the police would probably think her mother was just protecting her if they didn't match the key they'd found at Samuels' to any of the homes she'd lived in while in Alberta.
Before I had time to consider how these two things related to each other, the words from the lady at the convenience store came rushing back.
“Not everything is about money.”
Snatches of conversation and small details I'd not connected with the crimes flashed through my brain. It was like overload, with a burst of thoughts and ideas rushing into my head all at once. Then, the image of a face rose up in my mind.
Think! Think about the timing.
Addicts steal to support their habits.
Excitement filled me as it all became clear. I knew who was guilty, and I was pretty sure I had a good idea of the motive behind the crimes!
Someone with the initials A. C.
No, it didn't fit. Why didn't it? Everything else was suddenly falling into place nicely, but I couldn't ignore the fact that this detail was at odds with the rest of it.
I sighed in exasperation, dropped my head onto the desk on the verge of tears. It had all seemed so right; how could it be wrong? If only I could
make
it fit.
My eyes flew wide open! I smiled.
For the next forty minutes I made careful notes, writing down everything I knew about the whole situation, and how it all came together to back up my conclusion. When I was finished I was satisfied that I was absolutely correct.
But would the police listen to me? How could I convince them that they should investigate someone else, when they were convinced Amber was guilty? There was nothing solid, no proof to offer them.
How could I get proof? If I was right, the stolen money was almost certainly long gone. And the things taken at school would be too. But where?
I heard my parents' bedroom door open then and hurried to the kitchen, where I plunked down on a chair to wait. Mom appeared a moment later.
“You're up bright and early,” she smiled, kissing the top of my head.
“Where could a person sell a stolen watch, Mom?”
“A stolen watch?” She looked startled, which I guess would be most parents' reaction to that sort of question first thing in the morning.
“What's this about then?” Dad asked, joining me at the table.
“I was wondering where a person could sell a stolen watch. It couldn't be to anyone they knew.”
“Well, I suppose the most obvious place would be a pawnshop.” Dad is so cool.
He'll answer odd questions like that without asking any of his own.
Mom isn't quite that way, though. She grilled me on why I wanted to know such a thing, but I wasn't ready to tell anyone about my theory. Well, at least not my folks. They might go to the police. If they did that, and it got out, my chance of getting proof would be nil.
“I dunno, I was just wondering,” I said feebly. Why hadn't I thought of some cover story for the question? But it was all right, because Dad changed the subject and got Mom talking about border for the hallway. How on earth she fell for his diversion I have no idea. After living with him all these years, you'd think she'd know that border would be just about the last thing he'd ever be interested in discussing.
I ate a bowl of cereal and got ready for school as quickly as I could. Wanting to get out of the house before Mom remembered she hadn't actually finished grilling me, I grabbed my jacket and bookbag.
“See you later,” I called as I dashed out the door.
I was hoping that Greg might be at school early, but there was no sign of him when I got there. In fact, there was hardly anyone around. The buses started arriving a few moments later and I watched until I saw Laura Peters, the girl whose watch had been stolen, get off one of them.
“Laura! Wait up.”
She turned, looking puzzled when she saw me. We're not really friends or anything, so she must have wondered why I'd be calling her.
I hurried over to where she was standing. “Laura, the watch that was stolen from you, what does it look like?”
“Why?” Her face lit up with hope. Ignoring the fact that I obviously didn't even know what it looked like, she then asked, “Have you seen it?”
“No, but I have an idea. Please don't get your hopes up, because it might come to nothing.”
“It's a gold Cardinal, with an expansion bracelet and fold-over clasp. The face is oval and there are two diamonds set in it, one at the top and one at the bottom. Do you really think you might be able to find it for me?” She looked wistful. “My grandmother gave that to me before she died you know.”
“I know, and I promise that I'll do everything I can to try to find it.”
I scribbled down the details she'd given me inside a notebook and then went to my locker. Afterward, I wandered around trying unsuccessfully to find Greg. When the bell rang for first class I had to accept the fact that I wouldn't get a chance to talk to him until lunch.
It was maddening, trying to concentrate on my subjects through the morning. My head was still spinning with excitement, and I was dying to tell Greg about my idea.
Besides, I was going to need his help to get the proof that would make the police reopen the investigation.
By lunchtime my stomach was all tied up in nervous knots from waiting to talk to Greg. I slid into my seat at our usual table, doubtful if I could force down a single bite of my tuna on whole wheat, even though it's my favourite kind of sandwich.
It was then that I realized I'd never be able to discuss the whole thing with him when there were so many other students nearby. If anyone overheard, my idea could be seriously jeopardized.
“As soon as you're finished eating,” I whispered, leaning forward, “I want to go somewhere that we can talk privately.
“With Amber?”
“No, I need to talk to you alone.”
“Well, we can't very well leave her by herself.”
I hadn't thought of that. My frustration rose, but
there wasn't much I could do about it. Greg was right, there was no way we could abandon her at the one time during the school day she could spend time with friendly faces.
Amber was a few minutes late arriving for lunch. I figured she'd waited for the halls to clear a bit before making her way to the cafeteria. She shuffled in, head down, and made her way to the table without once looking up. I couldn't help thinking that made her look guilty, as if she was ashamed and couldn't face anyone. On the other hand, I don't think I'd have had the courage to keep my head up either, if I'd been in her position.
We started chatting, avoiding the subject of the robberies as if we'd agreed to set it aside for the time being. Part of me wanted to let Amber in on my theory, but it seemed too risky. She was the one with the most to lose and she might be tempted to let something slip that would help clear her name. It was imperative that the real culprit had no warning. That could provide either time or opportunity to cover up clues.
I was facing the entrance of the cafeteria, and a few minutes after Amber had joined us, I noticed a stranger come into the room. It was a tall man, thin, with dark hair and eyes. Although I knew I'd never seen him before there was something familiar about him.
He stopped after taking a few steps inside the entrance and began scanning the crowded room, obviously
searching for someone. With a jolt, I realized what was familiar about him.
“Amber,” I could hardly get my voice to work, “I think your dad is here.”
“
What?
” Comprehension came slowly, and then her head spun around and she saw him. Rising shakily to her feet she half stumbled and half ran across the room. His face lit up as he saw her coming, and before she'd reached him his arms had opened to catch her. She flew into them and he clasped her against his chest, holding her tight.
“How'd you know that was her father?” Greg asked.
“Can't you see the resemblance?” I asked, and when he admitted that he couldn't I didn't hold it against him. After all, guys aren't very good at that sort of thing.
“Well, it looks as though we'll have a chance to talk after all,” Greg eyed my untouched lunch. “Aren't you going to eat?”
“I can't. My stomach is all nervous and excited.” While everyone's attention was firmly riveted on Amber and her father, I took the opportunity to whisper, “I think I know who did it.”
“I knew you'd get it!” His face broke into a wide grin. “Let's go talk then.”
We cleared our table and headed outside. By then, Amber and her father had also gone out. Reaching the parking lot we saw the two of them
talking animatedly beside a car. Amber was laughing and crying all at the same time, her arms waving in bird-like flutters while her father seemed to be fighting his own tears.
“That's the best thing that's happened to her since she got here,” Greg commented as we observed them for a moment. “It will give her the lift she needs. And of course, now that you've solved the crimes, her problems in Little River are all but over.”
“I hope so. The thing is, I'm almost positive I know who did it, but there's no proof. I have to get some solid evidence before I can go to the police. I'm going to need your help.”
“You've got it. Now, tell me everything.”
“Okay, here's the thing. You know all the clues that didn't seem to make sense? They came together when I realized that some of them weren't exactly about the culprit.”
He looked puzzled and I continued. “The part about mothers protecting their children suddenly made sense when I put it together with what that horrid woman at the convenience store said about reputation and not everything being about money.”
“I'm not following you.”
“Remember when Broderick's was robbed and a reward was offered?”
“Five hundred dollars, yeah.”
“Mrs. Carter went to the police and gave them a story about seeing Amber sneaking through someone's yard with a bag in her hands when she was supposed to be at the gas station that night. It looked as though she'd done it for the reward money.”
“And she had another reason?”
“Mothers will do anything to protect their children! That's what she was doing. Somehow she either knew or suspected that her son was the thief. She was protecting him.”
“Tony?”
“Yes. And the timing. It didn't seem to mean anything until I thought about the fact that one crime was committed at the end of a weekend, and the other happened just before the weekend.”
“So, what does that mean?”
“This is my theory. Almost every weekend, Tony goes over to Veander, where his brother is in college. The real question is
why
. Is he that close to his brother that he wants to spend all this time with him, or is there another reason?”
“What kind of reason?”
“Think about what you know about Tony. What's the one thing that he's most known for?”
“His card tricks?”
“Exactly! How does he get it right every time?”
“A marked deck!” Greg looked excited.
“It has to be. There's no way he can correctly guess a card that's face down every time. And why would anyone have a marked deck?”
“For gambling!”
“You've got it.” I drew a deep breath. “That's what the idea of an addict meant. It's not about drugs, he's addicted to gambling. I think he's going over to Veander to play poker with the college students.”
An image flashed in my mind then, of Tony sitting on the bench in town.
“Oh! I just realized something else! The day before Broderick's was robbed, I saw Tony in the town square. He didn't look quite right, and I thought he was sick or something. He'd been in Veander that weekend, and he told me he got bored and came home early.”
“Well, he'd have been home Sunday in any case, wouldn't he?” Greg asked. “So, either way, he'd have been here when Broderick's was robbed.”
“Yes, but that's not the point. It wasn't long after lunch when I saw him. The bus doesn't come in until around suppertime.”
“So he got back some other way. But why, when he had a bus ticket?”
“That's the thing. As I said, he seemed out of sorts. I think what must have happened was he got into a mess, lost a lot of money that he didn't have or something. He must have had to get out of there fast
and then couldn't go to his house until the bus would normally be arriving. That would explain why he was all shook up, and sitting in the town square. And Broderick's was robbed the next day. He must have been desperate to get money to pay back his debt.”
“But if he has a marked deck, wouldn't you think he'd win all the time?”
“Do you think they let him use his own deck of cards? These are older guys, they wouldn't be that stupid, especially if he used them a few times and won consistently. But if he's addicted, he can't stop, even if he knows he doesn't have the advantage of cheating like that.”
Greg whistled low. “It makes sense. So, how do you prove it?”
“We've got to go to Veander on Saturday. There's a pawnshop over there.”
“A pawnshop? What does that have to do with catching him gambling?”
“Nothing, but the things that went missing at school had to be sold somewhere. I guess that's the most likely place to look. He couldn't sell the stuff around here, but no one would know him there. I got a description of the watch that was stolen from Laura. We need to see if we can find it, and a pawnshop in Veander is the most logical place to look.”
“Wait a minute, Shelby. I just thought of something. What about the key chain? The initials on it are A. C. Tony's initials are T. C.”
“That's something that almost completely threw me off,” I admitted.