Cassidy Jones and the Seventh Attendant (Cassidy Jones Adventures, Book Three) by Elise Stokes Page A

wise,” she whispered in his ear. “You’re not infallible.”
    “Thank you, Riley,” he said, his tone revealing his affection for her. Riley and her sons were very special to him.
    Riley released him from the hug. “We should all get back to it,” she announced. “You and your lass run along.” She avoided saying my name in front of Rusty. She turned to me. “On your feet. I want a hug good-bye.”
    I got up and hugged her and exchanged handshakes with the O’Shea boys, bidding them all good-bye.
    “Bye, Cassidy,” Rusty called as Emery opened the door for me.
    “None o’ that,” Marky reprimanded, boxing Rusty’s ears.
    We closed the office door to Rusty’s whiny protests.
    A couple office doors down, I halted and smacked the back of my hand against Emery’s chest. “Who do you think you are, keeping them all to yourself? They’re awesome. I love them. Why didn’t you tell me about Riley?”
    “Because I wanted to see your face when you finally met the girl I’m smitten with.” Emery gave me a gooey look.
    “Well, of course I was going to think she was some hot young thing. You met her in college. What was I supposed to think?”
    “That Riley is some hot young thing.” He flashed a smile.
    “Well, yeah, but are you disappointed?”
    Emery raised his eyebrows questioningly. “About what?”
    “You know—that Riley didn’t give you any advice”—I lowered my voice to a whisper—“about breaking into the museum.”
    “What makes you think she didn’t?”
    “You mean she did?” I said, flabbergasted. “So what was the whole ‘I’m reformed’ speech, then?”
    “Riley knows I’m trustworthy and wouldn’t go to such extremes unless it was necessary.” Emery was great at replying without really answering my question. “She also knows I’m capable of handling an undertaking of this magnitude.”
    “How would she know that?”
    “She just does,” Emery said mysteriously. He started walking, while I stood there, staring in amazement at the boy who I knew but didn’t know.
    “For your costume,” he said over his shoulder, “should we go with ready-made or custom?”

 
    Seven
    The Mummy
     
     
     
     
    As luck would have it, we found a used mummy costume from a movie that had been filmed locally, or so the price tag claimed. The quality of the costume certainly suggested this to be true, and best of all, the costume appeared to be my size. Not wanting to draw attention, Emery wouldn’t let me try it on, so after he purchased the costume and face paints, we crossed the street to a boutique where we pretended to browse for a couple of minutes before I snapped up a dress.
    “Can I try this on?” I asked the girl at the register.
    She kept her nose in her romance novel as she waved for me to go ahead.
    In the fitting room, I wiggled into the costume and smiled, pleased at my reflection. I looked just like a mummy from a B-rated horror flick.
    “Mendel,” I said, calling Emery by his middle name, “come tell me what you think.”
    Emery slipped through the curtain. A grin expanded across his face.
    “Fetching,” he said. “ All the girls will be jealous.”
    I rolled my eyes. “Don’t think it’s me, though. Thanks anyway.” I shoved him back through the curtain and took the costume off.
    The salesgirl didn’t even look up when I placed the dress on the counter and left.

 
    Eight
    Ambush
     
     
     
     
    The next day, Emery skipped a couple classes at school to scope out the museum for our break-in later that night. I wasn’t clear on what Riley had advised him to do there, but according to Emery, her tips would help him hijack the security system and cameras via his laptop.
    The plan went as follows: After Emery took over the security system at midnight, he would pick the locks on the museum’s loading dock entrance and let me in, dressed as the mummy. Connected with Emery by phone, I would wait for the thieves in the seventh attendant’s coffin—ick. But I