Madhattan Mystery by John J. Bonk Page B

rolling along the boardwalk real slow. Spotlights on the hoods were aimed at them. Onlookers shouting, “Show us your shoes!” The beauty queens hiked up their glittery gowns to reveal a little leg.So corny. Lexi was on tiptoes, straining to see over heads, when she felt a sudden jerk.
    â€œAgh! What was—oh, Lex, my heel. It’s stuck between the darn slats!”
    It was happening all around them, too—ladies getting their high heels caught in the boardwalk, squealing like alligators were nipping at their ankles. A minefield. Finally, Lexi’s mom yanked her pump free with a grunt.
    â€œHey, Mom.” Lexi readied her digital camera. “Show us your shoe!”
    Her mother dangled her gnarled high heel between two fingers like it was a smelly dead fish and stuck out her tongue. Lexi roared and snapped a picture. It was definitely a keeper.
    Even after taking forty-eight killer shots of the Miss America pageant itself, this photo was still her absolute favorite. That was what she had decided during the first half of their long train ride home.
    â€œSaltwater taffy?” her mom asked, digging through her Fralinger’s souvenir tin as the train chugged along. “There’re some chocolate ones left, hon, but they’re going fast.”
    Lexi shook her head. Barely. She had gone from rating her photos to studying the contestant bios in her giant souvenir program.
    â€œAll these girls have the same crazy-white teeth, Mom—and talent. Look! Classical piano, tap dance, vocal performance …” She flipped through the pages. “Plus, theyall know ways to save the world. End world hunger, stop global warming—”
    â€œDon’t tell me you want to try out for Miss America someday.”
    â€œNo way.” She thought for a second. “But, Mom—shouldn’t I start learning how to do
something
soon?”
    â€œOh, come on. You do cheerleading.” She gave Lexi’s knee a little jiggle. “And weren’t you even voted Best Personality at cheer camp last summer?”
    â€œEveryone got a prize. They just couldn’t come up with anything—better.”
    â€œI give up.” Her mom snapped the lid on the tin of saltwater taffy and shoved it into her tote with a throaty sigh. “You’re nine, for heaven’s sake. You have plenty of time to discover your hidden talents.”
    Lexi’s shoulders had stiffened against the vinyl seat-back.
But what if I don’t—what if I wind up being ordinary?
It was true that some people were late bloomers. But if something special was growing inside Lexi other than maybe a perky personality, wouldn’t she at least have seen some buds by now?
    A squealing baby snapped Lexi back into reality.
Or now?
she thought, folding her arms across her chest. Suddenly Grand Central Terminal was alive as ever and buzzing all around her.
    â€œSo, what’s it gonna be?” Kim Ling asked, jutting out her hip. “Hello? Earth to Lex! The kid’s vein has beendrained and I’ve convinced him to stay. So, that’s two votes yea, which leaves it all up to you.”
    â€œHuh. Really, Kev?”
    â€œYeah. She twisted my arm.”
    â€œNot literally,” Kim Ling said. “Well? Are we heading back to the dork convention, aka City Camp, or are you up for doing something extraordinary?”
    What was it about that word?
Lexi, who had one time in her life spent a full twelve minutes deciding between chunky and smooth peanut butter, rose to her feet and answered unblinkingly, “Extraordinary.”
    â€œYou mean it?” Kim Ling asked. “So you’re in?”
    â€œI’m in.”
    And they sealed the deal with a firm handshake.

9
DOOR NUMBER THREE
    â€œOkay, red, get me up to speed.” Kim Ling unshouldered her backpack and began digging through it. “All you told me in the park was that you heard two guys plotting to bury jewels under an