Tangled Webb by Eloise McGraw

comes from,” Alison put in.
    â€œYeah! And Kelsey shoplifted something there, or maybe a lot of things, and fled to Oregon to evade capture and—”
    I heard myself beginning to sound like a piece in the newspaper and wondered if I was just inventing our mystery plot again.
    But Alison said, “That really is possible. It would explain everything. I wonder how we could check it?”
    â€œHer clothes?” I said. I was just guessing. “Maybe they’d have out-of-town labels if she stole them.”
    â€œEven if she didn’t !” Alison cried. She gave a little bounce, all excited again. “Why didn’t we think of it before? I’ll bet something she owns has a label from whatever store she got itat, in whatever town she came from! All you have to do is go through her closet.”
    Oh, that’s all. First her wallet, now her closet. It’s all very well for Alison—she doesn’t have to do any of these rotten things, she just tells me to do them.
    Of course, it’s my stepmother we’re investigating. It’s my problem. So I guess I’ll do it. Maybe tomorrow evening. Daddy and Kelsey are going out, and I’m baby-sitting.
    FRIDAY NIGHT, JULY 19
    There’s not a single label in any of Kelsey’s clothes. Even her sweaters and winter coat. Except in a couple of shirts she got just recently—and all they say is “100% cotton, wash separately, line-dry.” And of course the Levi’s label on her jeans. But no store labels. I think there used to be one in her coat, and she cut it out. There was a square place inside the right front that looked different from the stuff around it—like when you take a picture off the wall. She must have cut off all the labels there were.
    I wish I hadn’t found out. I mean, this makes it real . She’s somebody else—and trying to hide it. Not that I didn’t think so before, but I didn’t know for sure . Or even quite believe it. I kept telling myself I was probably just making the whole thing up.
    Daddy is telling himself it’s all because she’s having a baby—all her nerves and funny reactions. Well, I never heard that having a baby made you cut the labels out of your clothes.
    Of course, he probably has no idea she’s done that. He has no idea of a lot of things because they’re not things you notice unless you’re snooping—or because he’s gone all day and isn’taround when they happen, the way I am. Besides, he feels close to her, and trusts what she says without question. He’s a very loyal, trusting person. I guess I’m not.
    I can’t decide if I ought to tell him about this. I bet he wouldn’t see anything at all alarming in it—or even important. So Kelsey doesn’t like labels. So what? They scratch your neck. Not the ones inside your coat, but never mind, he’d reason that away somehow. Or start explaining Kelsey to me again. Or worrying about my problem of adjusting. Or bawling me out for prying in Kelsey’s closet.
    I couldn’t blame him if he did that. I’m not ever going to snoop around in anybody’s personal belongings again. Let Alison do it if she wants to. I don’t like the way it makes me feel.
    WEDNESDAY, JULY 24
    All sorts of things have happened. Where’ll I start? With Monday afternoon, I guess, when Alison and I were on Mall Patrol. I really didn’t want to do it anymore, I’m sick of the mall, but Alison’s just like a mosquito for being persistent. A good thing, too. If we hadn’t been there—right where we were, right when we were, and with who , I mean whom , we were . . .
    I’d better start over. Monday afternoon, when we got to the mall, Alison peeled off to the Clock Shop to leave her mom’s watch to be fixed, and I went on to Grover Brothers’. I was supposed to take the escalator up to Four, which is the top, watching all