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  “I don’t know. Who?” Nick asked.

  I paused. “Mrs. Pringle!”

  “No way, Trevor.” Robyn shook her head. “There’s no way.”

  “Think about it, Robyn. No one but us knows those discards are worth a ton. But she would! She knows all about books, and she’d never get caught, because everyone else thinks they’re worthless. It makes total sense!” I said.

  “Yeah, except she gave you one of those books,” Robyn pointed out.

  “Maybe she didn’t know how much they were worth then,” I said.

  “She must have,” Nick argued. “There are prices on that list.”

  “Well, why would she risk her job by taking the Gretzky book?” Robyn persisted.

  “That I don’t know,” I answered. “Unless she thought the risk was worth it. Maybe she figured she was going to lose her job anyway, so why not take the money and run?”

  “I don’t believe it,” Robyn said stubbornly. “Mrs. Pringle is too nice. She’d never do anything like that.”

  “Robyn, whether you like someone or not doesn’t change the facts. You thought Cray was behind everything, just because you don’t like the guy. Well, he did swipe lunches, but not for the reasons you thought, and he never touched those books.”

  “That hasn’t been proven, yet,” Robyn interrupted.

  “And now,” I continued. “You don’t believe Mrs. Pringle could do anything wrong, just because you think she’s great!”

  “Look, you guys,” Nick broke in. “Let’s just say Mrs. Pringle does have the books. Where would she hide them?”

  “Not in the library, because they could get mixed up with the other books,” I said.

  “I don’t think she would leave them in the school,” Nick mulled. “It would be too risky, with the literacy fair and everything. Someone could pack them up for the sale.”

  “You guys are nuts,” Robyn said.

  “I’ll tell you where I’d hide them. In my car!” I said.

  “Mrs. Pringle drives a van. There’d be plenty of room,” Nick added.

  Something tugged at my memory. “And I’ll bet they’re still there. Mrs. Pringle had to get me to help her load boxes of the discards onto a trolley. There’s no way she could get those boxes out of her van without help.”

  Nick and I looked at each other.

  “No way! No way are we breaking into her van.” Robyn shook her head.

  “She’s working late tonight organizing all the donated books,” I said.

  “Are you out of your mind?” Robyn demanded. “We just got nailed for staking out Ms. Thorsen’s classroom, and you want to add car prowling to the list?”

  “We don’t have a choice!” I argued. “Are you going to let her get away with five grand?”

  “You don’t know it’s really Mrs. Pringle!” Robyn said hotly.

  “We don’t have any suspects left, Robyn,” Nick replied. “If you have another one, let’s hear it.”

  Robyn remained glumly silent, but Nick and I nodded at each other.

  “Let’s go!” We jumped to our feet.

  chapter eleven

  We ran through the icy darkness toward the school, our sneakers pounding on the sidewalk. It was only 5:30, but the early winter sun had already set. The street lamps made pools of light on the road.

  “Do you think she’ll still be there?” Robyn puffed.

  “Probably,” I wheezed. “Mrs. Pringle was still working when we left, and that was less than an hour ago.”

  There were a few lights on in the school, but the parking lot was dark and nearly empty. Mrs. Pringle’s van was in the farthest corner.

  “That’s great,” Nick whispered. “No one can see us trying to get inside.”

  “That’s because no one can see, period,” Robyn complained. “Did anyone bring a flashlight?”

  “Uh...no,” Nick and I answered.

  Robyn sighed. “Well, this is useless. The windows are tinted and we can’t see a thing. So now what?”

  “Check the doors?” Nick suggested.

  “You can’t do that!” Robyn said. “That’s trespassing.”

  “What do you think we’re here for?” Nick said in disbelief. “A tea party?”

  “If Mrs. Pringle really has the stolen books, she could get in a lot of trouble,” I said.

  “So could we!” Robyn retorted as Nick tried the door handle.

  The door swung open with a rusty creak. I swallowed. “See anything?” I said as Nick climbed inside.

  “Not yet.”

  I peered into the interior. Nick had moved to the back and was searching the trunk area by feeling along the walls and floor. I craned my neck to see if there was anything in the passenger seat and then stepped inside to help Nick.

  “Nothing,” Nick said.

  I was about to check under the seats, when I heard the crunch of gravel.

  “Someone’s coming!” Robyn hissed.

  I leaped backward in panic, bashing my head on the doorframe. Nick tripped over me and we fell out the door, landing on Robyn. The three of us collapsed in a heap.

  “Get off!” Robyn shoved me. She leaped to her feet and closed the door as gently as possible. Nick yanked me to my feet.

  “Run!” he said.

  My head throbbing, we ran as hard as we could, until we disappeared into the blackness at the edge of the parking lot.

  “You know, you guys,” Robyn said the next morning as we walked down the school hallway toward the library, “since we caught Cray stealing lunches, we haven’t found proof of anything, except that someone stole Trevor’s detective novel and the whole set is worth a ton of money. The Gretzky book has been missing for ages. All we’ve done is nearly get suspended. So much for your brilliant plans.”

  “Well, Ms. Sherlock,” Nick said, “have you got any better ideas?”

  “Actually, yes,” Robyn answered smugly. She pushed open the library door. “I do.”

  Nick and I looked at her. “And?” I said. “What is it?”

  But Robyn gasped. Her eyes widened and the color drained from her face. “Look!” she croaked. She took off running through the library at top speed.

  I stared at Nick. He shrugged. “We followed Robyn. She had collared a younger kid—he couldn’t have been older than seven— and had pulled a book from his arms.

  “Hey!” the boy cried. “That’s mine!”

  “No, it isn’t,” Robyn said. “Where did you get this?” She held it up so Nick and I could see. It was the missing Gretzky book.

  “From here,” the boy said in disgust, as if the question was so obvious anyone should know the answer. “I took it out.”

  “You stole it, you mean?” Robyn said.

  “No. I borrowed it,” the boy answered. “That’s what you do in a library.”

  “Did you sign it out?” Robyn’s eyes narrowed.

  “Sure. I used my library card.”

  “But you couldn’t have. It doesn’t have any bar codes or anything.” Robyn flipped open the cover.

  “I signed my name on the card in the back,” the boy said stubbornly.

  A look of understanding crossed Robyn’s face. “You signed the old card, from the library that had this book a long time ago!”

  “So?” the boy said.

  “We need to talk to Mrs. Pringle.” Robyn’s voice was decisive. She marched over to the librarian’s desk, just as Mrs. Pringle came in.

  “What’s going on?” Mrs. Pringle asked, setting down a stack of papers.

  Robyn held up the book and explained. Relief and joy flooded Mrs. Pringle’s face. She took the book and held it tightly. “I’m so glad you found it!” she exclaimed.

  By now, the younger boy understood. “I’m sorry I took it,” he said. “I just really like hockey. I didn’t know it was old.”

  “That’s all right,” Mrs. Pringle patted his shoulder. “It was a mistake, that’s all. I’ll help you find another book about hockey that I bet you’ll like even better. Oka
y?”

  The boy’s face brightened. “Okay.”

  “Thank you, Robyn, for finding it,” Mrs. Pringle said. She led the younger boy away to the nonfiction section.

  “I guess that wraps up that mystery,” Nick said in relief. “Which is good, because I need to work on my research project. It’s due tomorrow, and I need to use the Internet.”

  “You need to use the Internet, all right, but not for your project,” Robyn said. “Have you forgotten about Trevor’s missing detective novel?”

  “Oh, come on, Robyn,” Nick complained. “Three mysteries are too much for any detective to solve. Trevor probably flushed the book down the toilet or something.”

  “He did not! Someone broke into his locker and took it, and we know the series is worth about five thousand dollars. That money should belong to the school. We could use it to pay part of Mrs. Pringle’s salary if the school has to cut her job.”

  “I don’t think they would let us do that,” I said.

  “Well, we could buy new books for the library, at least. Tons of them, for five thousand bucks,” Robyn said.

  Nick sighed. “Okay, Robyn. What do you want us to do?”

  “First, we need to find out if the detective series is missing from the books that were dropped off at the Salvation Army,” Robyn said. “I brought change to call from the pay phones by the office.”

  “We have class,” Nick said.

  “We can’t wait. Tell Mr. Kowalski we need to be excused for a few minutes for the literacy fair. Make something up.”

  Nick shot her an exasperated look, but he left. Robyn led the way down the hall, reached the lobby pay phone, and began leafing through the phone book attached to the base. She deposited the coins and began dialing.

  “Hello. I’m wondering if you could check some items that were dropped off from our school.” Robyn listened, and then told the clerk the name of the school. “You have? That’s great! We think some books we need were donated by mistake.”

  Robyn turned to me. “What’s the name of the series?” I told her, and she gave the information to the clerk.

  “Okay,” she said after a few moments. “Yes, thank you very much.” She hung up the phone, her eyes bright with excitement. “They have the books from the school, and the detective series isn’t there. The lady checked twice for me.”

  “So that means...,” I said.

  “Someone else has them,” Nick finished, catching up in time to hear Robyn’s comment.

  “Mrs. Pringle has probably taken them somewhere to sell. They weren’t in the van,” I said.

  “Not if she’s using the Internet,” Nick answered. “Think about it. Books like that don’t get sold in a second-hand store. They’re probably antiques, and the best way to find someone who’s interested in buying them would be on the Net.”

  “It’s not Mrs. Pringle,” Robyn argued. “I still think Ms. Thorsen’s been acting weird.” We walked back down the hall toward the library.

  “It could be Ms. Thorsen,” I agreed, “but really, it could be anyone. The principal, for instance.”

  “That’s dumb,” Robyn said. “Why would Ms. Beaudry take the books?”

  “I’m not saying she did. I’m just saying that we have no proof, and the best way to find those books is to search the Internet auctions and see if someone’s put them up for sale. Nick, do you know how to do that?” I pushed open the library door.

  Nick shook his head. “I know how to do searches, and probably find those auctions, but I have no idea how to find buyers and sellers.”

  I thought for a minute, then spotted someone logging onto one of the library computers. “I know someone who does.”

  “Oh yeah?” Robyn said skeptically. “Who?”

  chapter twelve

  “Cray.” I motioned toward the computer station, where Cray had sat down. “Cray knows how Internet auctions work. He said so, that day I found the Gretzky book. He said he’d bought hockey stuff over the Internet.”

  “No way!” Robyn exploded. “Not Cray! He’s a suspect!”

  “Not anymore. Come on, Robyn. So the guy ripped off some food—he was giving it to kids who don’t have much for lunch.”

  “I still don’t trust him.”

  “We don’t have much choice. We can’t exactly go to a teacher and tell them that we suspect two of their friends of rare book fraud,” Nick said.

  I walked over to where Cray was working. “Hi,” I said.

  “Hey.” Cray didn’t look up.

  “Nick and Robyn and I need your help.”

  “Yeah? That’s a switch,” Cray said.

  “I know...but it’s really important.” I explained about someone stealing the detective series from the school.

  “If Mrs. Pringle was going to give the books away anyhow, who cares?”

  “That money should belong to the school. It could help buy books, or maybe start a lunch program for the kids you were trying to help,” I said.

  Cray finally glanced at me. “Really?”

  “Well, maybe. But, first we need to find the books.”

  “Okay.” Cray sighed. “What do you need me to do?”

  “Search the Internet auctions, see if you can find out if they’re up for sale.” I told him the name of the series.

  “No problem.” Cray punched a few buttons on the keyboard. I pulled up a seat and watched. Robyn and Nick had drifted over and now were looking over my shoulder.

  “This one’s not bringing much up,” Cray said. “There’s some of the books you want, but I’ll try a Canadian site. We might have more luck there.” He tapped away for a few seconds, and then waited as the computer whirred.

  “Bingo!” Cray pointed at the screen. “The full series.” His eyes widened. “They want fifty-five hundred dollars for it?”

  “Yeah. That’d buy a lot of Twinkies,” I said.

  Cray grinned. “You got it.” He double-clicked on the listing. “This sale is from hre in Calgary, and the auction closes in two hours, eleven minutes. This is probably your guy,” Cray said.

  “Or girl,” I added.

  “What do we do?” Nick asked Cray.

  “So now Cray makes all the decisions?” Robyn spat. “This is so stupid.”

  “You asked for my help, princess. I can log off any time.” Cray leaned back in his chair.

  Robyn glowered at him but remained silent.

  “Place a bid,” I said. “And tell whoever it is we want to meet today to close the deal. Can you do that, Cray?”

  “Sure. I’ll just send an e-mail with the bid. What do you want to offer?”

  “Six thousand dollars. That way no one can scoop us,” I said.

  “But a bid is a legal thing, man. Where are you going to come up with six grand if this guy’s for real?” Asked Cray.

  “Say we need to meet and check out the condition of the books before we buy, but that we would offer six thousand dollars, “ I said, “Then we’re not stuck with it.”

  “Okay. Where do you want to meet?” Asked Cray.

  “The mall, after school today,” I said. “It’s public and busy, and we can get out of there if we need to.”

  “Done.” Cray clicked the mouse.

  “Shhh. Get down!” Robyn put the flat of her hand on top of Nick’s head and pushed him behind a potted palm. “We don’t want anyone to recognize us.”

  “No one will recognize you, that’s for sure,” I said. Robyn wore a toque pulled down over her ears, her winter coat with the collar turned up, and sunglasses. “Aren’t you hot?” The mall must have been at least a hundred degrees. People were wearing T-shirts inside. We were stationed behind a pillar with several plants, watching the food court. Cray said in the e-mail that we would meet the seller in front of the pizza place.

  “What if they didn’t get the message?” Robyn worried.

  “They will,” Cray said. “If the auction closed today, they’ll be checking the bids.”

  “Well then, what if someone bids
more than—” Robyn stopped as I nudged her with my elbow. Someone wearing a winter jacket and toque was carrying a large box toward the pizza place.

  “This is it!” Nick whispered.

  “Let’s go.” I bolted out from behind the pillar. When I was behind the person, I cleared my throat. “Hey!”

  The figure turned, and I recognized who it was immediately. It wasn’t Mrs. Pringle. It wasn’t even Ms. Thorsen.

  “Blake!” Robyn gasped. “What are you doing here?”

  Blake Pringle nearly dropped his box of books. “Wh-what’s up, guys?”

  “Nothing. Just a little detective work, if you know what we mean,” Nick said, plucking one of the novels out of the box.

  Blake paled. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Oh, yeah? Six thousand dollars is a lot of money, Blake. What were you going to do with it?” I asked.

  Blake contemplated me for a second, then shoved the box at me and ran. I juggled the box, tripping over Nick’s feet. Nick lost his balance and ended up sprawled on the floor. Robyn took off running, but her heavy coat and flopping toque were affecting her speed. Cray took a flying leap, flung both arms around Blake’s ankles, and brought him down.

  “Thanks, Cray,” Robyn gasped as the three of us caught up.

  “No problem.” Cray got up, brushing off his palms. Blake still lay in a painful heap, but he got up slowly, wincing.

  “Don’t run,” Cray warned.

  “You can’t prove anything,” Blake said defiantly. “I’ll erase all the files from the auction. No one will ever know, and it’ll be my word against yours.”

  A mall security officer brushed through the small crowd of spectators that we had attracted. “Okay, kids. We don’t allow fighting in the mall. I’m going to have to contact your parents. Come with me please.”

  “Oh, no.” Cray cursed.

  But a second figure pushed through the crowd. “What’s going on, here?”

  “Ms. Thorsen!” Robyn cried.

  That teacher was like gum on our shoes. We just couldn’t shake her. But this time, I was really glad to see her.

  “How did you know we were here?” Robyn asked.

  Ms. Thorsen frowned. “I was already at the mall when I saw you kids, and I recognized the box of books. I thought I’d better see what was going on.” She turned to the security officer. “These are my students. I can take them home.”