The Great Circus Train Robbery by Nancy Means Wright

Author:Nancy Means Wright [Wright, Nancy Means]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Juvenile/Young Adult Mystery
Publisher: Belgrave House
Published: 2008-09-09T04:00:00+00:00

16

AN ARGUMENT AND A SLAMMED DOOR

“Give me an hour and I’ll be ready for Boomer’s,” Zoe told Spence when he burst into the Elwood house after an early supper. Her mother had set up a sewing machine on the dining room table. “Oh no! No-oo!”

“No, is right,” said Spence, looking down on her. “It’s too risky to go there.”

“I wasn’t talking about that. I just sewed the sleeve to the bodice! Now I’ll have to pull out all these stitches.” Missy Barnes had cut out the costume after a call to Tulip for the correct dimensions, but that’s all she had time for. It was up to the Elwoods to sew it, Missy said. And now her mother, who rarely sewed, was telling Zoe it was up to her. “Sewing’s a useful skill to have,” her mother had said. “Sailors sew and engineers sew. Doctors and nurses sew people up. You never know when you’ll have to do it.”

“If girls should learn to sew, then boys should, too.” Zoe was feeling frustrated. She bared her teeth at Spence.

He glanced at her, surprised. “I don’t know why you said you’d do that, anyway. Tulip eats too much, that’s all. Did you see all that chocolate in her trailer?”

“Speak for yourself. I saw you load your pockets.”

“I don’t gain weight,” he said, looking smug.

It was true, he didn’t. He was as skinny as a pencil. “Anyway,” she said, “just keep an eye out for Boomer leaving the house. If he doesn’t, we’ll have to sneak in late tonight when he’s sleeping.”

“What? That’s crazy. He’ll call the cops, and they’ll throw us in jail. We’ll never find Hackberry and I’ll never get my baggage car back. Which reminds me...”

“Ow-ww!” She’d almost sewed her finger to the fabric. She didn’t want to learn how to sew. There would always be safety pins. “Reminds you of what?”

“Hackberry’s trailer. There was an old chest under his bed. I didn’t look in it, though.”

“Of course not. Why would you?”

“It might give a clue to where he is. Maybe I should look. His wife was a clown, too, you know—or was. They’re separated now.”

“You do feel responsible for him, don’t you. Well, he might be in Boomer’s house—but tied up and can’t communicate. Boomer might shoot Hackberry with one of his rifles and bury him in the cellar with your baggage car.”

“Sure. So what day is it?” he asked. “What month?”

“August, of course. Why are you asking that?

“You need a grip on reality. You’re living in a world of speculation.”

“Where’d you learn that word?”

“Just around.” Spence was looking smug again. He was standing with his back to the dining room door where she’d pinned up a Quirkus Circus poster. He was perfectly still, eyes shut, like he was asleep on his feet. She knew he wasn’t asleep though, he was considering her words. Her speculation. “Okay,” he said finally. “But you watch for Boomer leaving the house. I’m going to see Mrs. Hackberry.”

She swiveled about in her chair. “How’re you going to get there? It’s already seven-fifteen.

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