Spartacus Ryan Zander and the Secrets of the Incredible by Elwood Molly;

Author:Elwood, Molly;
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Regal House Publishing
Published: 2018-08-30T17:18:55+00:00

Chapter Twelve

I don’t know how I slept, or even if I slept. All I knew was suddenly there was sunlight and a weird lapping sound. I opened my eyes to see a dirty white cat drinking from a glass next to my head.

Lousy. Remmy. The Sideshow of Curiosities and Mayhem.

Call Eli!

I jumped up, startling Lousy, who knocked the whiskey glass off the stool. I don’t know how I was fast enough, but I caught it before it hit the ground.

I checked my watch—a quarter after six. I had forty-five minutes to find a phone, call Eli, solve a mystery, and get back in time for my free ride to Vegas.

I packed everything except for the postcards without secret codes. These I slipped into my back pocket. I’d grab my backpack and suitcase when I got back.

Outside, a few workers were taking stakes out of the tent. No Remmy in sight. I considered asking one of the workers for a cell phone, but I didn’t want anyone hearing what we were going to say. I remembered seeing pay phones just outside the fairgrounds, and took off in that direction.



“Okay, Vegas,” Eli was saying over the phone. Eli had seen the announcement that Bartholomew’s had canceled and had already been hard at work. “I got you a ride all figured out. There’s this Mormon choir bus—”

“No, no, no, I’m good for that. I got the ride all taken care of.”

“You do?” He sounded a little disappointed.

“The sideshow is going to give me a ride on their bus.”

“Now that’s what I’m talking about!”

“I need something else, though. Listen carefully. Search for ‘Monterrey, Nuevo León, Mexico.’”

“What about it?”

I looked down at the first “normal” postcard from Mom.

“Check the news from September. Robberies. Art gallery robberies, bank robberies, something like that.”

“Why am I doing this?” he asked. I ignored the question and waited. “The MARCO—the Museum of Contemporary Art of Monterrey. How’d you know? They lost an entire collection by one artist. He was a gold sculptor. They said that—”

“Does it say anything about a scarab?” I interrupted.

“No…no, no scarab. Wait. Yes!” he exclaimed. “Wait, you don’t think that—”

“Now search Philadelphia, for October.”

“Geez, bossy much?” he asked, but I heard him typing and clicking. “Crap—again! The Academy of Natural Sciences lost their—I don’t know how to say this—their Had-ro-saurus fobla-something. A giant dinosaur skeleton. It just went missing one night. Where are you getting this stuff?”

I leaned back against the glass in the booth, my hand to my forehead. It was happening. It was all really happening.

“Hello? Ryan? What’s this for?”

“They aren’t just stealing people,” I said.

“Devil in a hang glider!” Eli cursed. “What are you talking about?”

“I think I figured it all out—Bartholomew is using his kidnapped circus people to rob places. It’s all in the postcards. I mean, it’s not in them. It’s where they’re from.” I looked at my watch. Crap. It was already 6:45!

“Look, just a few more, to make sure. Here’s the next: Lebanon, Ohio. November.”

A pause. Then, “Warren County History Center.

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