A Recipe for Robbery by Marybeth Kelsey

the flute. I didn’t want to do it, but my mom toldhim yes. And we have to rehearse at ten in the morning, too. So we won’t be free until eleven.”
    I could barely force the words “Okay, yeah, well, see you tomorrow” out of my mouth before hanging up. I sat there for a full minute, staring at the wall, not wanting to believe what I’d just heard: Margaret and Gus were going to play “Melody from the South Seas,” my favorite song in the world, with Angel Grimstone. Without me. And the Princess would be playing my solo part, the very same solo I could play with my eyes closed.
    â€œHurry up, Lindy,” Henry yelled from upstairs. “We’ve only got an hour to play Monopoly before bedtime.”
    I trudged up the stairs to join him, feeling numb. For the first time ever, I didn’t even yell, “Dibs on being the banker.”

Chapter 17
Conspiracy Theory
    T he next morning I got up early, before Henry. I decided to make a list of what we needed to do to get Granny Goose off the hook and find the thief. I’d been at it for a half hour, but so far the only thing I’d come up with was: “Get jeweled egg out of Hogjaw’s pen.” I still didn’t know how to accomplish this. Granny Goose would probably be at the festival most of the day, and even if I stopped by for a “casual” visit at seven o’clock in the morning, it’s not like I could poke around Hogjaw’s pen right in front of her.
    As much as I hated to think it, I needed Gus’s help. He had a knack for drawing up plans; I wasbetter at uncovering evidence. I was supposed to meet him and Margaret after their rehearsal and get started from there, but Mom nixed that plan. “I need your help in the cucumber smoothie booth from ten until noon,” she said, “and then again from three until five.”
    â€œWhat?” I stared at her with my mouth hanging open. Hadn’t I done enough already? I was probably the only kid in town who’d ever peeled and chopped two hundred cucumbers.
    â€œYou’ll have plenty of free time in between,” she said.
    I got to the square a few minutes early, hoping to find Margaret or Gus and tell them I’d be working for Mom, and that’s when I saw Leonard.
    And François.
    They were standing together next to the elephant ear stand. Leonard had on those same farmer overalls and straw hat. François was wearing a spotless white apron; his mustache looked sleek and perfectlycurled. He pointed to a cluster of flowers in front of the courthouse and started jabbering away to Leonard. Then his hands flew all over the place, like he was excited about something.
    Holy cow! Did these two know each other? Were they actually friends? No, I thought as I watched them. Somehow, I couldn’t picture them as buddies. It would be like mixing powdered sugar with sour milk.
    I edged closer to the stand. Maybe I could hear what they were talking about. Trying to act casual, I bought a cinnamon elephant ear. I munched on it as I leaned against the side of the food trailer.
    But I couldn’t make out what they were saying. I’d have to get closer. Not too close, otherwise Leonard might recognize me. He might connect me with last night’s phone call. I sidled toward them, holding the elephant ear in front of my face. I licked the cinnamon topping, tilted my head in their direction. My heart raced.
    â€œ Non, non. That is not the prime location to place it, my friend. Certainement—oui , certainly, the Pitaya requires direct sunlight, for the maximum—”
    I gagged…coughed…sputtered…nearly choked to death on a chunk of elephant ear. Leonard looked over at me, and our eyes played tag for one short second. I ducked around the other side of the food booth. Now my heart was pounding.
    â€œHey, Lindy!” Henry waved at me from down the street. “Come on. Mom says I get to help you make the