Madhattan Mystery by John J. Bonk

back and check anytime, ‘cause we get new ones in on a daily—”
    â€œExcuse us. Mr. Burl T. Gibbs?”
    Two men in black were suddenly standing right next to Lexi at the window. They seemed to have appeared out of nowhere. She almost
plotzed
.
    â€œI’m Burl Gibbs. How can I help you gentlemen?”
    Holding her breath, Lexi could see the guy nearest her quickly flash an ID card at Mr. Gibbs, then slip it back into his suit jacket—just like they did on
The Streets of New York
.
    â€œFBI,” the man said flatly. “We have a few questions for you, if you have a minute.”
    And Lexi could breathe again. Sort of. At least they were on the right side of the law.
    â€œCertainly. Come in, come in.” Mr. Gibbs opened the door next to the service window and let the two men into the room. “We were just finishing up, right, kids?”
    â€œUh, right,” Kim Ling said when nothing came out of Lexi or Kevin. “Thanks.”
    The door closed but the service window was still open. As usual, Lexi and Kevin followed Kim Ling’s lead and as nonchalantly as possible plastered themselves against the wall, hanging on every word coming from inside the Lost and Found Department.
    FBI: We understand you were friends with a former Grand Central employee. Benjamin Deets? That name ring a bell?
    GIBBS: A number of years ago. Not friends exactly—more like workplace buddies. We’d share a cup of coffee every now and again. Nice enough guy. Used to work in security, if memory serves, but we never stayed in touch. Why? Has he been accused of something?
    FBI: We’re just doing a routine background check, sir. We have reason to believe he may be connected with the Cleopatra jewel heist that’s in all the news.
    GIBBS: Oh, sure, I’m familiar! My, my, ain’t that something? So, are you saying Ben is a suspect?
    FBI: That’s not what we’re saying exactly …
    The shutters of the window closed with a bang and Lexi, Kevin, and Kim Ling bolted. They scurried throughthe marble halls, faster than if they were running on hot coals. The bustling dining concourse with gobs of people standing in tangled lines slowed them down and somehow they got trapped in a mass of hotdog-munching tourists.
    â€œBenjamin Deets,” Kim Ling mumbled to herself, scribbling away on a small spiral notebook she had fished out of her backpack. “Suspicious Grand Central employee!”
    â€œ
Former
employee,” Kevin said with a raised finger.
    â€œAh, right. In security, no less, which makes total sense. I mean, if anyone’s gonna know the ins and outs of an abandoned train station—”
    â€œIt’d be him,” Kevin finished. “I wonder if the jewels are already buried under the tracks.”
    â€œThere’s only one way to find out—”
    â€œWait for the story on the news like everyone else,” Lexi said, giving Kim Ling one of those
looks that kill
that people talk about. Didn’t she realize Kevin was already getting way too involved for his own good? Lexi grabbed his arm and broke free from the tourist trap and Kim Ling. “Now, let’s return to the real world and get our butts back to camp.”
    â€œSpeaking of which—” Kim Ling was instantly in her face, rapidly clicking the top of her pen with her thumb. “What do you say we skip it entirely for today and do a little private investigating ourselves instead? I mean, missing one day at Camp Loser is no big deal—and we’re already here, so …”
    â€œUgh,” Lexi groaned, “I knew you’d try and pull something.”
    â€œNobody has to know.”
    And I knew those four words would come back to haunt me!
    â€œListen, Lexi, we don’t know how much the FBI knows at this point, but this much I know—if they
do
know something, security’s only gonna get ten times worse, ten times