Bonfire Masquerade by Keene Carolyn & Dixon Franklin W

Author:Keene, Carolyn & Dixon, Franklin W. [Keene, Carolyn & Dixon, Franklin W.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Mystery, Childrens, Young Adult
ISBN: 9781442403291
Amazon: 1442403292
Goodreads: 11420943
Publisher: Aladdin
Published: 2011-07-12T07:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 10

FRANK THE CASE HEATS UP!

Getting to the New Orleans Police Department central station took over an hour, thanks to the Mardi Gras celebrations.

“I think this is the first time I’ve been in a traffic jam caused by people dressed as Vegas showgirls—at ten in the morning!” said George, marveling at the people on the streets.

“Yeah,” I agreed. “In Bayport, the showgirls don’t usually block up traffic until noon.”

She laughed. I liked George. She was one of the few girls I knew who didn’t make me feel like a total geek all the time—maybe because she was just as much of a geek as I was.

“Before I forget, take this.” I pulled a laminated badge out of my backpack. It had a photo of George on it and said in big letters TECHNOLOGY CONSULTANT. There was no agency name on it—ATAC liked to keep a low profile—but if any police agency across the country scanned the badge, or called the number on the back, they would find that George now had higher security clearance than most police chiefs.

“What’s this?” George asked as I passed it to her.

“It’s your credentials. You’ll need it to get into the evidence room at police headquarters.”

“Cool!” said George. “Man, in River Heights all we’ve ever had to do to get access to police headquarters was sweet-talk Chief McGinnis.”

We talked about the cases they’d worked on recently, and George told me all about the radio hookups and wireless microphones she’d built to help foil a pair of shoplifters. It wasn’t often I got to geek out about spy stuff with someone my age who wasn’t from ATAC.

“It’s amazing how much you guys do!” I said admiringly. “I don’t know if Joe and I would have been able to solve half your cases without ATAC’s support.”

“Flatterer,” said George. “I’m sure you would have. You’d figure it out. You guys are pretty resourceful.”

We traded stories until the taxi finally made it to the police station. The desk sergeant recognized me at the door. I guess they don’t see that many teenagers with national security clearance. He raised an eyebrow at George, but once he scanned her badge, he waved us both in.

“What do you guys need?” he asked.

“Andrew Richelieu’s phone. And if you have it, a spare office with a big desk?”

“It’s Mardi Gras,” the desk sergeant grumbled. “Almost all the desks are empty, other than mine.”

“Sorry, man,” I said.

“So what’s the story on this phone?” asked George, as we sat down in a bare office, home to a desk, two chairs, a single dead plant, and nothing else.

“It was stolen during a parade. Andrew didn’t even notice it was gone until the police called him about it. Apparently, he’s so rich, he has half a dozen different phones.”

“And you guys got something off it?”

“It wouldn’t power up when the police found it, but Joe managed to get it on. The only thing we found was a video, which led us to the Bywater, and a dead end. Here, I’ll show you.

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