Theresa gave a laughing groan. "Clark, you're not going to impress these girls with that corn."

"And what about you?" he asked Theresa in a suggestive tone. "Are you impressed by my corn?"

The next day, the moment I got home from school, the phone rang.

"Hello?"

A woman's voice replied, "Hi. Am I speaking to Marcie Donner?"

"Yes, this is me."

"Oh, good!" she said. I had no idea who it was, but I liked her voice. She sounded so friendly and positive. "My name is Chrissie Frambois. I'm calling from California."

"Are you Maisie's Chrissie?"

She laughed, a light, pretty laugh. "Yes, I'm Maisie's Chrissie. I'm calling because I have good news for you and bad news for me. I'm bringing Maisie back to her mother tomorrow. We've got a flight at 8 am our time."

"Really? Why isn't Maisie the one who's calling to tell me?"

"Good question!" Chrissie agreed. "Maisie is NOT happy about going back. She's not happy at all. Neither am I, to tell the truth, but it's time. It's past time. She's supposed to be with her mother now, and I've been trying to bring her back, but her father didn't want to let her go."

I grunted in response. I did remember Maisie saying the same thing.

Chrissie continued. "There's no way she can be back before... before your thing tonight, but I promise you she'll be there tomorrow. You can try and call her, but she's pretty angry. She probably won't pick up the phone. If she does answer, she might chew your head right off."

I blushed. I still wasn't sure about this... but at the same time I was. I knew Maisie didn't want it, and it wasn't my place to interfere, but...

"Marcie?" Chrissie said. "For what it's worth, I think you've done the right thing. Maisie doesn't want to go, but she has to. Her father was wrong to keep her from her mother."

"I know," I said, but I didn't sound very brave or convinced.

"She has to spend time with *both* parents. And she needs to be with you! I hope I get to meet you some time soon. I've heard — and read — a lot about you. Most of it's hard to believe! You're a remarkable girl, Marcie Donner. And Maisie owes you her life. She might not say so, but she knows it, and so do I."

I mumbled a clumsy thanks. I knew she meant the kidnapping, but I really didn't want to talk about it.

"For what it's worth, her father ought to show some gratitude to you, too, but I guess that would be out of character. I'm sorry he's that way, but he owes you a lot. Somewhere inside him, he knows that, too."

I wasn't sure what to say to that, but I managed to say something polite, and then Chrissie signed off.

After I wiped a few tears, I picked up the phone and called Theresa Dandino. "Has the eagle landed?" she asked in a mock-serious tone.

"Not yet," I said, "but you can call Clark Riswold."

"Great!" she said. "Tonight, one way or another, Lee Sheppard is going down."

"Let's hope so," I said.
 

Yes, I called Police Detective Theresa Dandino, and yes, I asked her to call Clark Riswold. And yes, Jordan knew I'd be calling the both of them, and she was okay with it.

When Susan worked her way through her plan yesterday at the lunch table, *that* was where she was heading the entire time. I didn't know it, and neither did Mallory, but Susan had a secret goal. After winning Jordan over by solving the problem of the money, she began to talk about how to get Lee Sheppard to confess on tape. From there, as she outlined ways of getting the woman arrested, Jordan finally broke down and agreed to let me call the police.

"Thank goodness!" Susan told me afterward. "We would have been crazy not to! We had to call the police!"

We set up a war room on the second floor of bookstore near the tea shop. Mr. Fisby gave me the night off, even though I was supposed to work. I guess he didn't want me messing up his last deal with Lee.

Mallory sat on a table near her tape recorder. "Shouldn't you be wearing headphones?" I joked. She smiled and shrugged. "If they make this into a movie, I'll wear headphones and stare at the desk. But I can hear it just fine from here."

At the moment, all we could hear were the sounds of tea cups and light chatter.

Susan, Theresa, and Clark sat by the windows. Taped to the walls near the windows were eight large photos, all different, of Lee Sheppard.

Earlier, Clark had asked Mallory what would happen if the tape recorder died.

"I put in fresh batteries today," she said, "and I have spares—" she produced some loose batteries from a bag "—AND there is a backup recorder hidden in the tea shop."

Clark grunted. He was impressed, but didn't want to admit it.

"Marcie," Theresa reminded me, "You should be over here at the window, watching. You're the only one who's actually met her."

After five minutes, Clark announced, "Gray Camry parking at nine o'clock."

Theresa pointed for my benefit. "There's a woman at the wheel," she observed.

"It could be her," I said. Clark continued to scan the entire scene, and announced two other car arrivals, and asked about a woman who was "walking at two o'clock."

The woman in the Camry took forever to get out, but as soon as she straightened up and shut the door, I knew it was her. "That's Lee Sheppard," I said. "Getting out of the Camry... at nine o'clock."

"Very good!" Theresa said. "Let's back away from the window a little, so she doesn't catch us looking, okay?"

We watched her walk, smiling and confident, all the way up the block and into the tea house. We heard the door open and the bell jingle on Mallory's recorder. Susan moved over to the table. Theresa shifted her chair to get a better view of the tea shop's door. Clark stood up and straightened his clothes.

"Going somewhere?" Theresa asked.

I got alarmed. "You can't arrest her now!" I exclaimed. "You agreed—"

He put up his hand to quiet me. "I'm not going anywhere near her... yet. I'm going to sabotage her car. Make sure it won't start. Whatever happens in the tea shop, I don't want her getting away."

"Oh, okay," I said.

"And, just so we're clear," he went on, "I'm going to stay down there. The moment she approaches her car, or the moment she leaves the tea shop for any place else, I'm going to be on her. I want her to try on this pretty pair of bracelets." He dangled a set of handcuffs.

Theresa gave a laughing groan. "Clark, you're not going to impress these girls with that corn."

"And what about you?" he asked Theresa in a suggestive tone. "Are you impressed by my corn?"

She rolled her eyes and he left.

From there on, we were silent, listening to the conversation between Lee and Mr. Fisby. Occasionally, Jordan would pipe up with a question. She always sounded respectful and interested. She wanted to know where the money was going, how long it would take. She asked Lee how she'd gotten into the business and how she learned what she knew. She asked if the returns were really guaranteed, and if so, how come everyone wasn't investing the same way.

"This is based on insider information," Lee told her, betraying just the slightest hint of impatience, "and this particular deal is in foreign currency. It's pretty simple, really, but only if you know what you're doing. Let's say there's a currency called... let's say there's a country that uses oyster shells for currency. And say there are 40 oysters to the dollar. That's the exchange rate. Now: what if you know that tomorrow, the exchange rate would be 20 oysters to the dollar! What would you do? You'd take your dollars and buy oysters today, and then tomorrow buy your dollars back."

"You'd double your money!" Mr. Fisby said. You could hear his excitement.

"You'd double your money," Lee agreed. "It's simple, but not everyone can do it. Not everyone can see it. For one thing, you've got to move fast and buy your oysters quickly, before other traders catch on to what you're doing. If they see you buying oysters, they'll start buying oysters too, and that will drive the price up. Do you get it?"

"Not really," Jordan said. "But how do you know the oysters will be worth more? and why would they be?"

"That's the way money works, Jordan," Lee replied, with a superior air. "It goes up and down like a tide. And just like sailors on the sea, you can learn to read the signs, watch the weather, so to speak..."

Theresa snorted in disgust. "Listen to her! She really knows how to sling that stuff! What a load of baloney!"

We could tell when the money (or the newspaper) was handed over. There was a peculiar kind of reverent silence. Once Lee dropped the money in her briefcase, the conversation quickly fell apart, and Lee left the table. Again, the door opened, the bell jingled, and the door closed with a bang.

Susan, Mallory, and I ran to window. Theresa quickly hissed, "Girls, get back! Don't let her see you!" and Lee stopped in her tracks. I'm sure she didn't hear Theresa, who was only whispering. Maybe it was some sixth sense, or more likely, she saw our movement from the corner of her eye. In any case, Lee turned her head and looked up toward our window. At first she was only curious, but when her eye fell on me, her face changed. Her expression tightened, and she began walking quickly away from her car.

"No no no!" I cried. "She's getting away!" and the next moment I was pounding down the stairs as fast as my feet could carry me.

Theresa pushed past me on the stairs, and was gone when I hit the sidewalk. I couldn't see Lee, either. So I crossed the street to the Green. As soon as I did, I spotted Lee in the middle of the block to my left. Clark would say she was at two o'clock. I jumped the low shrubbery and took off across the Green. At the same time, I saw Theresa several yards behind Lee, pushing past shoppers and strollers, trying to reach the fleeing scammer.

Where does Lee think she's going? I asked myself. Why didn't she head for her car? She couldn't have *another* car, could she? But no, that was crazy. She just wanted to get away. In fact, I realized she had her shoes in her hand — heels were no good for running.

She was just about to round the corner onto Carver Street, which was full of tiny shops, when she collided head-on with a man. It was Clark Riswold. She tried to get by him; he gripped her wrists. The two of them struggled. Lee drew close and drove her knee into Clark's groin. His dark glasses couldn't hide the pain in his face. Still, he didn't let go. Lee cocked her knee twice more, hard, but Clark saw those coming, and they didn't connect.

But the next one did, and his body twisted to the left. Theresa and I were nearly there, so when Lee dropped her shoes and got her right hand free, Theresa snapped a cuff on that wrist, and pulled Lee's arm back in a hammerlock. Clark was trying to straighten up. He still had a hold on her left arm, but with a piercing scream and a few hard kicks to his ankles, she jerked it free.

That's when I arrived, skidding to a halt — I slipped on something. That's when the worst thing happened, because I was bent over, in exactly the wrong place. As my face was moving down, Lee's arm broke free and her elbow shot back, smacking me hard right between the eyes. Her heavy briefcase, which was hanging on that arm, struck me in the chest, knocking the wind out of me.

Not again!

I stumbled back. Tiny flaming stars swam in front of my eyes, and I couldn't catch my breath. I backed into a lamp post, and sank down, sliding down the post till my butt hit the the ground.

"Serves you right, you little witch!" Lee shouted. "I hate nosy people!"

"Enough!" Theresa barked. She spun, jerking Lee's body, so the woman landed belly-first with a oof! on the pavement.

She put her knee in the small of Lee's back, grabbed Lee's free hand and snapped the handcuffs on tight. Then she pulled out her radio and called for a police car.

"Are you alright?" she called to me. I gingerly tested my nose with my fingers, feeling all the bones. Nothing seemed to be broken. "I think so," I told her. "I was afraid that she'd busted my nose again."

"That's what I was aiming for, you—" and she let out a string of profanity. Theresa laughed.

"Hey, don't *I* get any sympathy?" Clark called. He shook himself and coughed twice. "I can't even touch where it hurts!"

"Aw, you're okay," Theresa said. "She only kicked you in the brains."

© 2012 by Kaleigh Way