Magic's Most Wanted by Tyler Whitesides

Author:Tyler Whitesides
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: HarperCollins
Published: 2020-11-05T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 19

THURSDAY, MAY 14

5:02 P.M.

PEDHERSON’S NEIGHBORHOOD, INDIANA

“What’s our plan when we see this guy?” I asked, staring at Tom Pedherson’s house from the sidewalk.

“We ask him if he noticed anything unusual about the music box he won at the work party,” said Avery. “That was a few days after the church was robbed, but there’s still a chance he was involved.”

“Billing people on the phone by day, magical criminal by night,” I said.

“I think you’re joking, but that could easily be the truth,” said Avery. “A lot of people that work for Magix also have regular day jobs. They just keep the magic secret so the Igs can benefit from it.”

“So do we think this guy’s an Ed?” I asked.

“That’s the first thing we have to find out.”

We were on the porch now, and Avery knocked on the front door. A moment later, it swung open to reveal the man we’d seen in the doorbell cam footage. He was very tall and somewhat round in the middle. His hair hadn’t gone gray yet, but it had receded almost halfway across his scalp.

“Tom Pedherson?” Avery checked.

“That’s me,” he said, his voice friendly. “What can I do for you kids?”

“My name is Mason Morrison,” I cut in. “I believe you know my mom?” Avery cast a glance at me like she didn’t know what I was doing. But I kept going. “I wanted to thank you personally for letting me use your music box for my book report.”

“Glad to be of help,” he said. “How did that go for you?”

“It was . . . unbelievable. My teacher is holding on to the music box for a day or two while she finishes grading the report,” I lied. “Do you mind if we come inside for a minute? Ask you a few follow-up questions about it?”

“Of course not,” he said, but I thought he seemed uneasy. Tom led us into his living room, inviting us to take a seat on the couch. But I was too stunned by what I saw to sit down.

Music boxes.

The living room was full of them. They filled a bookcase, lined shelves, and covered the mantel above the fireplace. There must have been almost a hundred of them—some wooden, some metal, some glass. Most of them were open to display the wide variety of figurines inside, but there was no music playing.

“That’s a nice rabbit there,” Tom said, gesturing to the creature in Avery’s arms.

I waited for Fluffball to say something rude, but he actually held his tongue for once. Maybe it was because Tom didn’t say “pet” or “bunny.”

“What breed is it?” asked Tom, seating himself on a padded armchair.

“Annoying,” I said.

“He meant Angora,” corrected Avery, still glancing around the room. “This is quite a collection of music boxes.”

“Eighty-eight of them,” he answered proudly. “Well, eighty-seven, since I let you borrow one.”

“My mom said you won a music box at the work party last month,” I said. I’d assumed that was why she’d reached out to him. But maybe she knew about his collection.

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