Goldy Schulz 14 - Sweet Revenge by Diane Mott Davidson

Author:Diane Mott Davidson [Davidson, Diane Mott]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Published: 2011-02-06T05:00:00+00:00

oldy!” The male voice and knock at the door startled all three of us, and when the door opened slightly, the girls shrieked. “There’s something here you should see.” Julian’s tone was urgent, and he was careful to keep the door only slightly ajar.

“I have to go,” I said to the girls. “You know what to do with your tray when you’re done?” When the girls groaned and rolled their eyes, I took this to mean that they did. “And there’s lime pie in the kitchen, if you want some,” I added quickly before scooting out. I certainly hoped they didn’t wear their . . . lingerie when they came downstairs.

Julian had already started for the back stairway. He was walking quickly and shaking his head. “Everything was going really well, and everybody was digging the curry, and Mr. MacArthur was giving a little talk . . . and all the guests were paying attention to him, and he was loving it—”

“A little talk about what?”

Julian was descending the staircase. “Where Dutch thieves used to hide maps when they were trying to smuggle them out of Portugal in the sixteenth century. It was cool; he said he wanted me to stay and listen, so I could learn something—”

“Oh, Julian, I’m sorry.” Julian had graduated from Elk Park Prep with high honors; he had been at Cornell before transferring to the University of Colorado. But clients inevitably treated us as if we were uneducated dunces.

“It was interesting,” Julian insisted as he reached the bottom of the steps. “If you controlled the trade, you could make lots of doubloons, or whatever they called them. Stealing maps was punishable by death!”

“Yeah, I know. Arch told me.”

“Mr. MacArthur was saying how over the centuries, thieves have tucked maps into the jackets of other books, they’ve sewn maps inside their hats, and everybody was listening really well, and then Neil Tharp, you know, Drew Wellington’s creepy assistant? He got into a fight with another guy.”

“Neil fought with somebody?” By this time we were both in the kitchen. I strained to hear arguing voices, or worse, the crash of people falling over furniture. “Here at the party?”

“You bet. Old Neil got into it with that bald dude I had to slug at the conference center. What’s his name, Craddock? He finally showed up after the guests had already gone through the buffet line.” Julian began to lay out the dishes and dessert forks for the lime pies.

“Larry Craddock.” My spirits sank at the same time that I heard Craddock’s familiar shout.

“Why don’t you go ask the girl?” he howled. Where was he? Downstairs? Or in the garage? It was hard to tell. “Maybe she knows something!” he shouted. “Should I ask her, Neil?”

“Turn on the light, you dummy!” Neil Tharp’s high voice replied. “I can’t see a thing!”

Their voices were indeed coming from the nether regions of the house. Had the party broken up already? I looked nervously back at the center island, where Julian was loading dishes and silverware onto a tray.

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