A Recipe for Robbery by Marybeth Kelsey Page B

involved. By then I was so sticky and hot and tiredof looking at cucumbers, I would’ve gladly cleaned a whole row of Porta Potties.
    â€œEvelyn left something on her front porch,” Mom said. “She’ll be working the Tarts’ tent until tonight and won’t have time to run back for it, so I offered your services.”
    Go to Granny Goose’s? My heart fluttered. Maybe, just maybe, her back gate would be unlocked and I could take care of that egg. “Uh, sure. What does she want?”
    â€œShe needs you to grab the gym bag on her porch. Evidently, François left it at her house yesterday.”
    François’ gym bag? Wow. This was getting even better. Suppose I found another heirloom inside it, or some secret correspondence between him and Leonard. I took off in an excited rush, but I wasn’t a block away before my adrenaline fizzled out. I couldn’t quit thinking that once again Margaret and Gus—my supposed partners—weren’t with me, and once again I was operating by myself.
    When I got to Granny Goose’s, I hurried to herback gate. Still locked. It didn’t look like we’d ever get in there, at least until the Festival was over. But that might be way too late, especially after what Mrs. Grimstone had said about calling the police.
    I swallowed my disappointment and headed up the porch steps. François’ bag was sitting next to the front door. With trembling hands, I unzipped and emptied it onto the porch floor. Here’s what I found:
Merlin’s Moustache Wax: “Works like Magic for that Sleek, Sexy Look.”
A tube of BriteSmile toothpaste and a toothbrush.
About twenty-five of the fliers advertising his vegetable carving show.
About one hundred fliers advertising a special breakfast on Saturday.
A plain white T-shirt.
A pair of slinky gold boxer shorts with a swirly F stitched on them.
    Drat. Not one tiny piece of evidence. Feeling even more discouraged, I stuffed everything back in thebag and took off down Citrus Grove. Cricket was outside the same house we’d seen her at yesterday, pulling some bags out of her car trunk. “Hey,” she said. “Back again, eh? You’re sure spending a lot of time in the neighborhood these days.”
    She pulled off her sunglasses and stared at me.
    â€œOh,” I answered with a nervous giggle, “I’m just running an errand for Granny Goo—I mean Mrs. Unger. Um…do you live here?”
    â€œLast time I checked. Hey, are you okay, kid? You look a little freaked out.”
    â€œI’m fine. Really. Just in kind of a hurry.”
    â€œWait a minute. You aren’t after that goose of hers, are you?” Cricket looked up and down the sidewalk before backing against her car. “I can’t stand that thing. It tried to bite me yesterday.”
    â€œI’m not looking for Pickles. It’s…well, I’m…”
    I’m not sure what made me keep talking. Maybe it was the way Cricket seemed so hip and cool and unadultish, or maybe the thought thatshe had inside information about the heirloom theft. After all, she knew Mrs. Grimstone; she’d even been at her house yesterday, talking about the crime.
    Cricket tilted her head and looked at me expectantly, so I went on. “Do you know anything about the heirloom robbery?”
    Her eyebrows shot up. “Like what?”
    â€œWell, uh…. do you know if…uh…” Just say it, Lindy. I took a deep breath. “Does Mrs. Grimstone really think Mrs. Unger stole those heirlooms? Has she called the cops?”
    â€œOh, now I get it. You kids are playing detective.”
    I fidgeted with François’ bag, feeling a hot blush creep up my cheeks.
    â€œWe kind of accidentally overheard something.”
    â€œOkay, what gives here, Libby?”
    â€œLindy. My name’s Lindy. And nothing gives. I’m just worried about Mrs. Unger. My friends and I know she