Benny was pointing to the mermaid in the fountain. “Alice is holding a mirror!”
Violet caught her breath. “And she’s made out of stone!”
“That’s it!” Benny almost shouted. “The code word is ‘Alice.’”
“You’re a genius!” Jessie said proudly.
“I guess I am kind of smart for my age,” Benny had to admit.
“You’re smart for any age, Benny!” Violet gave her little brother a warm hug.
Henry added, “Now there’s only one thing left to do.”
“What’s that, Henry?” Jessie wondered.
“Cross the finish line!” Henry jerked his head in the direction of the WGFD booth.
The others looked over to where Mike Devlin was sitting behind the microphone. The deejay was snapping his fingers in time to the music.
“Come on!” cried Benny, who was already racing for the booth.
But somebody else was headed in that direction, too. It was Amber Madison—and she reached the finish line just seconds before the Aldens.
Debra, who was unpacking ball caps, looked up. “Oh, you’re back again, Miss Madison?” she said with a frown. “If this is about switching your interview to the daytime …”
“It’s not,” Amber replied, cutting her short. “I’m here about the Great Detective Race.”
“Oh?” Debra seemed surprised to hear this.
“I found the code word!” declared Amber.
The Aldens could hardly believe their ears.
Were they too late to win the race?
Just then, Mike Devlin gestured for Amber to join him. As the author stepped into the WGFD booth, Mike spoke into the microphone.
“Well, folks!” he announced. “Somebody just stopped by our booth. Looks like we just might have a winner in the Great Detective Race.” Turning to Amber, he added, “How about telling our listeners a bit about yourself. Do you live here in Greenfield?”
“No, I’m an author from out of town. My name’s Amber Madison,” she said, “and my book—which is on sale now—is called The Art of Good Manners.”
“Well, nice to meet you, Amber,” Mike said in his smooth voice. “So you think you’ve tracked down the code word, do you?”
Benny held his breath. He couldn’t stand the suspense.
“No doubt about it!” Amber sounded very sure. “The code word is … ‘mermaid!’”
“Yes, you hit the nail right on the—what?” Mike did a double take. “What did you say?”
Amber leaned closer to the microphone. “‘Mermaid,’” she repeated. “Now, about my book—”
“Um, no … I’m afraid that isn’t the code word,” Mike said, shaking his head in confusion.
For a long moment, Amber stared at Mike. Finally she said, “What … what do you mean?” She sounded puzzled. “Of course that’s it!”
Mike held up a hand. “Time for some mellow tunes from Lark Sanders,” he said, speaking into the microphone. As music boomed from the overhead speakers, he quickly hustled the author from the booth.
“That was pretty strange, wasn’t it?” Jessie said, keeping her voice low. “Mike seemed to be expecting a different answer.”
Henry nodded.
Amber whirled around to face the deejay. “What’s going on?” she demanded angrily. “I gave you the right code word—and you know it!”
“Please,” Mike told her, “try to calm down.”
“I will not calm down!” Amber was talking loudly now. “Not until you tell me what this is all about!” She folded her arms in front of her.
As shoppers gathered round, Mike ran his fingers nervously through his neatly combed hair. “This isn’t the time or the place—” he began.
“I won’t be cheated out of a win!” Amber broke in. “I guessed the correct code word. End of story.”
The Aldens looked at each other. They knew this was the moment to speak up.
“Actually,” said Henry, “we think the code word is ‘Alice.’”
Debra began to clap her hands. “Yes, yes, that’s it!” Turning to Mike, she added, “Looks like we have a winner after all.”
As a murmur went up from the crowd, Amber glared over at the Aldens. “And who on earth is Alice?” she wanted to know.
“It’s a nickname for the mermaid,” Jessie explained. “Everyone in Greenfield calls her Alice.”
“You were this close, Miss Madison.” Debra pinched her thumb and finger together. “But it was the name of the mermaid we were after.”
“Listen, Debra,” Mike said, “we can’t really expect someone from Boston to know what folks around here call the mermaid. Can we?” He lifted a shoulder in a shrug. “I say she was close enough. Let’s just declare Amber the winner.”
“We can’t do that, Mike,” Debra said firmly. “It wouldn’t be fair to the Aldens—or to anyone else in the race.”
Before the deejay could answer, Henry spoke up. “How did you know Amber Madison was from Boston?” he wondered.
It was a good question. Amber had said she was from out of town, but nothing else. How could Mike know? Everyone waited for an answer.
The question seemed to catch Mike off guard. “I, um … had a hunch, that’s all. What’s the big deal?”
Debra looked over at the deejay suspiciously, but she didn’t say anything.
“Maybe Amber mentioned it yesterday,” Jessie hinted.
“What are you driving at?” Mike asked. “I never met this lady before today.”
“Are you sure about that?” Violet questioned. Then she turned to Debra. “I have something you should see.” After shuffling through her snapshots, Violet handed Debra the photo taken outside the ice-cream parlor.
“No wonder you knew Amber was from Boston,” Debra realized. She was staring at the photograph with a frown.
“What are you talking about?” Mike shifted uncomfortably.
“How would you explain this, Mike?” Debra passed the snapshot to him. “It clearly shows that you and Amber Madison have met before.”
Amber inched her way closer to look over Mike’s shoulder. As she got a glimpse of the photograph, her mouth dropped.
“You fixed the race, didn’t you, Mike?” Debra said accusingly. “You told Amber that the mermaid was the code word.”
Mike was at a loss for words. He looked over at Amber.
“Are you waiting for me to say something, Mike?” the author asked him in disbelief. “Fixing the race was your idea, not mine.” She threw up her hands. “I should’ve known better than to trust some small-town deejay.”
“Now wait just a minute …” Mike began.
“No, you wait!” Amber snapped. “You told me the mermaid was the code word. How should I know anything about her nickname?” Her dark eyes flashed angrily. “I should have stuck with the Aldens.”
Jessie and Henry exchanged glances. “You were at Potter’s Creek, weren’t you?” Jessie guessed.
“You were watching us through binoculars,” added Violet.
Debra gave the author a sideways glance. “You were actually spying on these children, Miss Madison?”
Amber didn’t deny it. “I heard them talking at the mall about being good detectives. I asked around and somebody told me they were the Aldens. I was hoping they’d lead me to the code word.”
“But … why?” Debra was shaking her head in disbelief.
“You wanted an interview on Mike Devlin’s show,” Henry said. “Right?”
“Yes,” admitted Amber, surprised that Henry knew that. “Mike was interviewing the winner of the race, so … I signed up.”
“And you left a fake clue!” Benny accused her. “That wasn’t very nice.”
“Fake clue?” Amber looked surprised. “I did get carried away,” she admitted. “I should never have followed you around town. But I had nothing to do with any fake clue.”
The children looked at each other. They had a feeling Amber was telling the truth.
“Well, no harm done, right?” Mike put in, trying to make light of everything. Then he turned to Amber with a shrug. “An interview on our Late Night show isn’t as bad as all that. Is it?”
“You must be kidding!” Amber snorted. “I want nothing more to do with this second-rate station. You won’t be seeing me around here again,” she said, walking away. “Not ever!”
“We’re counting on it,” Debra called after her. |