The Artsy Mistake Mystery by Sylvia McNicoll

Author:Sylvia McNicoll
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Dundurn
Published: 2017-07-13T04:00:00+00:00

DAY TWO, MISTAKE SEVEN

Renée nods like crazy. “Yes, please! A sleepover!”

“We’re not going outside after dark, no matter what happens,” I warn her.

“Of course not. I’m exhausted. After supper, I’m going straight to bed.”

“Sure, you are. You know we still have to walk the dogs, right?”

“As long as we don’t run. We can pick up some clothes for me on the way.” Renée grins.

Oh, great, walking by Mr. Rupert’s again.

When we arrive home, Dad proudly shows us his first complete dog sweater: tiny and sky blue with a stripe of orange and indigo around the neck and leg holes.

“That is a piece of art, Mr. Noble,” Renée says.

“Wow, yeah,” I agree. “Speaking of which, Dad, can we go to the Art Gallery of Burlington tomorrow? There’s a special show opening.”

He grins, still thinking about his masterpiece. “Sure. What time?”

“Five.” I don’t even know if he’s listening. “And can Renée sleep over again?”

His head snaps up and he turns to her. “You know, you’ll have to go home sometime. Your family is going to be working through Attila’s, um, problem for a while.”

“Maybe. But maybe not.” Renée smiles. “I have a feeling we’re going to be able to clear his name really soon.”

How does she expect to do that when he’s on a surveillance tape holding stolen goods? Renée must have some ideas, and I’m dying to find out what they are. Something tells me it would be a mistake to discuss these around Dad, though.

“Fine. Let your mom and dad know, though,” Dad reminds her.

“Great!” I change the subject. “Let’s grab a snack.” I tip my head toward the kitchen and give Renée the eye.

“I bought honeycrisp apples for you.” Dad picks up his knitting needles; there’s red wool on them this time.

“Thanks.” The two of us head for the kitchen. “Peanut butter or chocolate spread on your apple?”

“Chocolate,” Renée answers.

I put a few tablespoonfuls in a cup and stick it in the microwave. As the chocolate melts, I chop up a couple of apples. “So what do you know that I don’t?”

“Nothing. But I have a plan.”

“What is it?” The microwave beeps.

“It came to me when you asked your dad about the art show. We have to make sure all our suspects go to the show.”

“How?”

Dad strolls in at that moment and I close my mouth. It’s too obvious we’ve stopped talking because of him.

“Try one,” I quickly offer, holding out the plate of apple slices to him.

“Uh-huh.” He takes an apple slice and dips, still squinting at me. “You know, I believed you about not going out last night.” He bites into the apple and chews a while as I feel guilt spread warm across my face. “Mmm, that is so good.” He licks his fingers.

The phone rings. “That will be your mother,” Dad says. “Why don’t you pick up?”

Yay! I can’t help smiling as I grab the receiver. “Hello?”

“Hi, Stephen. How are you?”

I can hear the hug in her voice. “I’m good, Mom.” And at that moment, I am so good.

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