Part 5 (1/2)

I felt dizzy. Was this another ”accident”? I looked around, trying to get my bearings. Someone was standing next to me, asking if I was all right. It was Katie Beth. She was the one who had pushed me out of the way.

”Thanks, Katie Beth!” I said, as soon as I could speak. ”I hate to imagine what would have happened if that thing had hit me!” ”I'm glad it didn't,” she said, smiling at me. ”Are you sure you're okay?” She was being so nice. I felt terrible for ever being suspicious of her. ”I'm fine,” I said. ”Thanks again.” Rehearsal ended a few minutes later. I walked off the stage and into the dressing room, thinking hard. So Carrie wasn't sending me those notes, and obviously Katie Beth wasn't, either. Was Hilary really the phantom? And if she was, how could I prove it?

That's what I asked my friends later that day at a club meeting. I'd filled them in on my detective work so far, and they were excited to hear that the pool of suspects had been narrowed down to one.

”You're almost there!” said Stacey.

”But I still have to prove that Hilary is the phantom,” I said. ”Any ideas?” Everybody thought for a few minutes. Finally Kristy said, ”You have to set up some kind of trap for her,” said Kristy. ”Let her prove her own guilt.” ”But how?” asked Claudia. Then a light seemed to turn on in her eyes. ”Let me see those notes again, Jessi!” 1 handed them to her. Luckily I'd saved every one. Dawn leaned over to examine them again with Claudia.

”You don't see writing like this every day,” said Dawn. ”I noticed that before, when I looked at the first few.” ”You're right,” said Claudia slowly. ”And I know why the writing looks so different. It's because the writer is using a special pen - the kind you do calligraphy with.” ”Calligraphy? What's that?” asked Mary Anne.

”It's the fancy writing on wedding invitations and stuff like that,” said Claudia. ”It's pretty and slanted - and some parts of the letters are thick and other parts are thin. A girl in my art cla.s.s has a calligraphy pen. It has a sharp, flat point and you can write thick or thin, depending on how you hold the pen.” ”So what are you getting at?” asked Kristy.

”Well, all Jessi has to do is to trap Hilary into writing something, so she can see if the samples match,” said Claud, smiling.

”Whoa!” said Stacey. ”Claud, you're the Nancy Drew of Stoneybrook.” Claudia blushed. ”Oh, yeah?” she said. ”Well, if I'm Nancy Drew, who's Bess?” We all laughed. Bess is Nancy Drew's ”plump” sidekick, the one who's always eating.

”How come detectives always have a chubby friend?” asked Mallory. ”There's one in the Hardy Boys, too - and in the Three Investigators. Did you ever notice that?” Claudia laughed. ”I know. I guess it's all just part of being a super crime solver. So, Stace, you're just going to have to gain some weight!” She stuck an elbow into Stacey's side, and we all cracked up.

I thought Claudia's idea was great. Now all I had to do was figure out how to get Hilary to write something - in front of me.

Chapter 12

For the next few days, I spent most of my free time just thinking. I had to figure out a foolproof way to trap Hilary. But for the longest time I couldn't think of a single good idea.

During rehearsals, I watched Hilary out of the corner of my eye. She was no dummy, I knew that. It wasn't going to be simple to trick her into confessing. But that's what I had to do.

For awhile I considered looking through her locker, checking to see if she owned a pen like the one Claud had described. But that seemed risky - and it didn't feel right to me. Just because she might be the person who had stolen my stuff didn't make it all right for me to poke through her things.

Then I thought I could just ask her to write something down for me. I'd tell her that I was doing a school project - about how to a.n.a.lyze handwriting. No, that was too farfetched. She'd never believe me.

If only we went to the same school, I could ask her if I could borrow her notes from a certain cla.s.s. But Hilary goes to a private school. So that was out. I was at a dead end.

Finally, in desperation, I called Mallory one night. I had been trying not to take up too much of the club's time with my problem, but after all, Mal was my best friend. If I couldn't ask her for help, who could I ask? I dialed her number.

Somebody answered in a tiny little voice. ”h.e.l.lo?” ”Hi, Claire,” I said. ”This is Jessi.” ”Hi,” she replied, breathing into the phone.

”Is Mallory there?” I asked.

”Yes,” she said. But she didn't ask if I wanted to speak to her. Kids her age are like that. You have to take everything one step at a time.

”Can I talk to her?” I asked hopefully.

”Okay,” said Claire. I heard the phone fall to the floor as she dropped it. Then I heard her footsteps as she ran off to get Mallory. It seemed to take Claire forever to find her, but I was used to waiting for Mal to come to the phone.

Somebody picked up the receiver a few minutes later, but it wasn't Mal. It was Nicky. ”Who's this?” he asked.

I told him who it was. ”Hi, Jessi!” he said. ”Guess what! There's going to be a pet show, and Frodo's going to be in it!” I could tell that he was really excited about it - and unlike Becca, he didn't seem to mind that he only had a hamster to enter in the show. We talked for a couple of minutes, and then Mallory picked up the phone in the kitchen.

”Okay, Nicky!” she said. ”You can hang up now.” We waited for a moment, but Nicky didn't hang up. I heard him breathing on the line. He was probably hoping to listen in on our conversation.

”Come on, Nicky!” said Mal. ”I'll give you a dime later on if you'll hang up right now.” Click. Finally! ”What's up, Jess?” asked Mal.

”I need your help,” I said. ”I just can't seem to figure out how to trap Hilary.” ”Okay, let's think,” said Mallory. ”You can't be too obvious about it. You've got to be like that detective on TV. You know, the one who always makes the suspect feel like they have nothing to worry about, and then - BAM/ - he gets them.” ”Well, I don't think Hilary realizes that I suspect her,” I said. ”I've been trying to act really cool around her, so that she won't guess.” It hadn't been that hard. We'd been incredibly busy at rehearsals lately.

”Good,” said Mal. ”Now, let's look at her personality. There must be some weakness that we can take advantage of.” ”You mean, 4ike, that she's kind of vain?” I asked. I told Mal how Hilary is always looking in the mirror to check on her fancy French braid.

”Yeah, something like that is good. Now think,” said Mal. ”How can we use that against her?” ”Maybe I could tell her that I thought she'd make a better Princess Aurora than me,” I said, thinking out loud. ”She's so vain that she'd probably agree with me, and that would almost prove that she's trying to get rid of me so that she can have the part!” I was excited.

”Jessi,” said Mal, ”that wouldn't really prove anything, except that she thinks she's a better dancer than you.” She was silent for a moment. ”No, we've got to come up with something better than that,” she said. ”Keep thinking.” ”What if I just try to catch her off guard with some casual comment?” I asked. ”Like 'Hey, thanks for all those notes you sent me!' Then, if she looks upset, that would give her away.” ”It might work,” said Mallory. ”But you'll need witnesses, and that could get complicated. Plus, what if she just denies everything? Then you'll have totally blown it.” 1 had to agree that Mal was right. But I just couldn't come up with any other ideas. We talked a while longer and then said good-bye, agreeing to talk some more the next day.

After dinner that night I helped Aunt Cecelia dry the dishes. I wasn't thinking about anything in particular. Then, out of nowhere, I had this great idea. ”That's it!” I said out loud. Aunt Cecelia gave me a funny look.

”What's it?” she asked, shaking the soapy water off her hands.

I almost wished I could talk to her about my idea, but I knew it was better not to. I hadn't told her - or my parents - anything about the phantom. It would just make them worry.

”Nothing, Aunt Cecelia,” I said. ”1 was thinking out loud. Is, it okay if I go do my homework now?” She nodded. ”We're just about done here, Jessica. Thanks for your help.” She looked at me carefully, as if she knew there was something I wasn't telling her. It's not easy to fool Aunt Cecelia. She doesn't let much get past her. ”Go on, now,” she said finally.

I headed up to my room, but I didn't start my homework. I had something more important to think about: my Plan, with a capital P. I just knew it would work. It had to.

Here's what I had figured out: Hilary's weak spot. She was always looking for Mme Noelle's approval. Of course, everybody in the cla.s.s was doing the same thing, since we all wanted to please our teacher. But Hilary really seemed to have a need for Mme Noelle to think she was perfect. Maybe it was because of her mother. Mrs. Morgan has such high expectations of Hilary.

Anyway, I thought I could somehow use that personality trait to trap Hilary. I just had to make her believe that Mme Noelle wanted her to do something - and then she'd do it without thinking.

I was really concentrating. What could Mme Noelle need from Hilary? Something that she'd have to write, of course, so that I'd know for sure that that special pen really did belong to her. And it would have to be something she'd need in a hurry, so that Hilary wouldn't have time to think about it.

A program for the performance? No, the programs were probably being printed professionally, and Hilary would know that. Invitations to our dress rehearsal? Too complicated. I had to keep it simple. What about some kind of sign?

A sign. That was it! Now my mind was racing. I pictured the scene: Hilary writes something down. Then she realizes that she's been caught. She breaks down and confesses everything, apologizes all over the place, and tries to make me promise not to tell. But I won't. Instead, I march her in to see Mme Noelle, who tells her she's going to have to drop out of dance school. The End! 1 knew that the last part of my imagined scene probably wouldn't come true. Most likely, Madame would just give Hilary a warning. But I knew that my plan would work. There was no way it could fail. I practiced over and over again how I was going to get Hilary to write something for me, until I felt that it was perfect. I couldn't wait for my next rehearsal.

Once I'd gotten my plan set, I turned to my homework. I couldn't afford to get behind in my cla.s.ses, no matter how busy I was with rehearsals. But I'd only had my social studies book open for a few minutes when I heard a knock on my door.

”Come in!” I said.

The door opened slowly, and Becca peeked around it. ”Can I talk to you for a minute?” she asked.

”Sure, Becca,” I said. ”What's the matter?” She looked upset about something. I realized suddenly that I hadn't been paying much attention to her lately. I'd been too caught up in solving the mystery of the phantom. I closed my book and told her to sit down.

”It's the pet show,” she said, looking at her shoes. ”I don't want to go to it.” ”Becca, why not?” I asked. ”It's going to be so much fun!” ”No it's not,” she said. ”Not if I can't win a prize.” I frowned. ”But who says you won't win one?” I asked. ”Misty's a great pet.” She shook her head. ”I know. But she's only a hamster! How can she win any prizes? Everybody else has much better pets.” ”Like who?” I asked.

”Like Charlotte,” she said. ”Charlotte is going to enter Carrot in the show, and Carrot can do all kinds of tricks. Did you ever see him say his prayers?” Charlotte Johannsen is Becca's best friend. She's also one of the kids we sit for regularly. And her dog, Carrot, is pretty cute. When you tell him to say his prayers, he puts his paws in your lap and lays his head down on top of them.

”And David Michael is going to enter Shan- non,” continued Becca. ”I'm sure Shannon will win a prize.” ”Becca,” I said gently, ”there are going to be all kinds of pets in the show. And they all have an equal chance of winning a prize.” She didn't look convinced.

”Misty's brother is going to be in the show,” I said. ”And Nicky and Margo and Clair and Vanessa aren't worried about whether Frodo will win a prize. They just think the show will be fun.” 1 wasn't really sure about that, but it didn't hurt to say it. ”And guess what Linny Papadakis is entering - a turtle!” I said. ”Don't you think that's kind of funny?” Becca shook her head, refusing to smile. I talked to her for awhile, but I couldn't convince her that winning a prize didn't matter. Finally, I just gave her a big hug and told her it was bedtime. Poor Becca. She had her heart set on winning a prize, and Misty wasn't a very impressive pet.