A Recipe for Robbery by Marybeth Kelsey Page A

smoothies. She’s going to show us how.”
    By ten forty-five, Henry and I had a line. A constant whirr, whirr, whirr of cucumbers, lime juice, sugar, and ice spun around my blender like a funnel cloud. For the life of me, I couldn’t figure why anyone in his right mind would line up for one of these drinks, especially when he could’ve had a lemon shake-up or a strawberry milk shake.
    At least we were busy, which made the time go fast. But nothing—not even the long line or making changeor Henry’s constant jabber—could take my mind off that one word François had said: Pitaya . I couldn’t wait to tell Margaret and Gus what I’d overheard.
    They showed up at around eleven. “We’ve been looking all over for you,” Margaret said, practically breathless with excitement. “Guess what Gus found out.”
    I checked my line: seven people waiting, and Henry was the only helper. “You go ahead and pour this man’s drink,” I told him. “I’ll just be a second.”
    I grabbed Margaret’s arm. “You’re not going to believe what I—”
    â€œTell her, Gus!” she squealed. “Tell her what you figured out.”
    â€œLindeeee, I need help,” Henry whined.
    â€œShh!” I hissed over my shoulder. “You can pour it yourself. There’s enough in the pitcher for three more servings. Just take two dollars or two tickets from each customer; that’s all you have to do. If you need to make change, I’ll be right here.”
    â€œI’ve got big news,” Gus said, wriggling hiseyebrows. “Really, really big.” Margaret cracked up laughing.
    â€œSo do I,” I said, but Gus just blasted right ahead, like what I had to say didn’t matter.
    â€œIt’s a conspiracy,” he announced. “Leonard and François. François and Leonard. I saw them together this morning, and I’m ninety percent sure they’re working as a team.”
    What the heck? That was supposed to be my news.
    â€œGet…out!” Margaret said after I’d told them my story. “They were actually talking about the Pitaya?” She looked at Gus, wide-eyed, like she’d never been so amazed about anything in her life. “It’s exactly what you thought,” she whispered. “Exactly. You do have ESP.”
    â€œYep. It’s like I told you, I could tell by their body language.” And then he started up with the NSCCB stuff again…on and on about how he’d “deciphered subtle innuendos” to win crime buster of the month,and brag, brag, brag about he’d interpreted the clues, until I had to clamp down on my tongue to keep from saying anything.
    â€œWhat time will you be done here?” Margaret said. “Gus and I have to rehearse again at eleven thirty.”
    â€œI thought you just got done rehearsing.”
    â€œWe did. But Mr. Austin feels it needs some more work.” She didn’t say it, but I knew without asking that Gus was the problem.
    â€œWe’ll be done at noon,” Gus said. “Wanna meet up back here? I went over my NSCCB notes last night. I’ve got a couple of ideas.”
    â€œOkay.” And they’d better be darn good ones, I thought, because we were running out of time.
    â€œLinDEEE!” Henry cried from behind me. “It’s not my fault. It was an accident.”

Chapter 18
The Tattletale Threat
    A gooey lake of spilled smoothie covered our booth counter. It dribbled into the money box— drip, drip, drip —and coated my mom’s master festival schedule.
    Henry’s T-shirt and shorts were soaked, and our line had grown to at least ten grim-faced, restless customers.
    I’d barely managed to get things under control and whip up another blender of drinks before my mom showed back up. “I need you to run an errand, Lindy,” she said, and for once I didn’t care what it