The Case of the Clever Secret Code Read online

  That was, until Mrs. Peebles called the contestant right before Gracie, Dylan Federov. When Dylan came to the stage, it was almost like someone had turned on some extra lights. I guess you could say he sort of had a glow about him. He had light brown hair and light blue eyes. And to tell you the truth, he was probably a kid who wouldn’t normally stand out much. But when he smiled up there on stage, well, he stood out, all right. He walked up to the microphone with one hand behind his back and his essay in his other hand.

  “It is my sincere pleasure to be here, today,” he told the audience. “Because nothing makes me happier than talking about America.”

  “And when I think of America, I think of the American flag,” he went on without looking at his essay. “A flag known as ‘Old Glory.’ A flag with white stars on a blue background, and red and white stripes. The red, white, and blue. I’d like to show you an American flag that I own.”

  He took his hand from behind his back. Now I could see he was holding a little American flag on a small stand.

  Dylan smiled even brighter. “My flag is probably not the biggest flag you’ve ever seen. And well, it’s a little bit tattered around the edges. It’s faded some, too. But in my eyes, it’s one of the most beautiful flags ever. You see, this flag once belonged to my grandfather. He gave it to me before he passed away when he was very, very old. I miss my grandfather. Not only was he a great man, but he taught me a lot of important things.”

  I noticed Dylan still hadn’t looked at his paper. Holy Catnip!

  Now he took on a more serious expression. “My grandfather taught me that freedom is one of the most important things of all. Being free makes people happy. In the United States, we have something called the Constitution. It guarantees us things like freedom of speech and freedom of religion and lots of other things. These things were important to my grandfather, because he didn’t grow up with any freedoms at all. That’s because he grew up in Russia, when it was a Communist country. Under Communist rule, my grandfather’s family was very, very poor. They had to stand in line for hours to get things like a loaf of bread. Or some coffee. Or even a roll of toilet paper.”

  A couple of the contestants giggled at that.

  Dylan smiled before he became serious again. “A lot of people starved in his country, because they couldn’t get enough food. But they weren’t allowed to work harder and make more money, so they could buy more food, either. No, they were forced to live a life of poverty, and they had no way out. Especially since my grandfather’s family was not allowed to travel more than twenty-five miles away from home. And speaking of homes, his family wasn’t even allowed to own their own home. No, his family was forced to live in an apartment owned by the government, and, well, the government didn’t take very good care of it. So it was not a very nice place to live.”

  Right about then, I sat up and leaned closer. Dylan’s essay was so good it had me on the edge of my seat. Well, except that I was actually sitting on the floor . . . But either way, Dylan’s words really made me think about things. Our Mom and Dad got to choose what home they wanted to live in, and they worked to pay for it. Plus, they worked to buy all the food that we needed. And, I had to say, I sure was glad I was free to work as a cat detective. I would be awfully sad if I couldn’t.

  “When my grandfather became a young man,” Dylan went on, “he defected to the United States. America. Where he had freedom. He soon learned that he could work hard and make money to pay for the things he wanted. Here in the ‘Land of the Free,’ he finally owned a house of his own. Plus he had enough food to eat, and he could travel wherever he wanted to go. Whenever he wanted to. My grandfather was so much happier living here.”

  Dylan paused for a moment and his voice became a little softer. “But my grandfather never forgot what his life was like when he was little. And he wanted to make sure I understood what it was like, too, and how important it is to be free. That’s why he gave me his flag, the flag I wave before you here today. Because this flag was very important to him.”

  Now Dylan paused and looked around the room. “So why, you must wonder, was this flag so special to him?”

  He held the flag up and waved it slowly back and forth. “Because this is the flag that was given to him on the day he became a citizen of the United States. In a ceremony before a judge. It was one of the happiest days of his life. He wanted to pass on the story of freedom to me, so that I would never take freedom for granted.”

  By now the whole audience sat like they were in a trance, and all eyes were on Dylan.

  “Freedom,” he went on, still without looking at his essay. “Such a simple word. But yet it means so much. And it was exactly what George Washington, the man called the ‘Father of our Country,’ was fighting for. He and the rest of the soldiers in the Continental Army, who fought in the Revolutionary War . . . Thanks to all those who fought for freedom, I am lucky enough to stand here before you today, telling you the story of my grandfather. So you will know just how precious freedom really is.”

  Then he simply smiled and said, “Thank you very much. God Bless America!”

  When Dylan finished his essay, I was sort of sad it was over. Because I really liked listening to him.

  Then all of a sudden, the people in the audience started clapping like crazy. Some people even cheered and whistled. Before long, all that clapping and cheering got to be pretty loud. Lots of people stood up and gave him a standing ovation. One thing was for sure, everyone really liked what he had to say. They really liked his essay.

  I glanced over at Gracie. She was even standing and clapping for him, too. When the audience had quieted down, I saw her glance at us. She was going to be the last one to read her essay.

  And let me tell you, I sure wouldn’t want to read an essay after Dylan had just given his.

  Beside me, Bogey shook his head. “Tough act to follow, kid.”

  “You can say that again,” I murmured.

  Now I saw our Mom stand up and move down to the chair behind Gracie’s.

  Gracie turned and frowned. “Mom, I’ll never beat Dylan. His essay was the best. Better than any essay I’ve ever heard. Better than my essay.”

  Our Mom touched Gracie’s arm. “It doesn’t matter if you win or lose. I’m proud of you for entering this. You’ve done a great job with your essay.”

  But Gracie just gave our Mom kind of a wobbly smile.

  The next thing I knew, Mrs. Peebles was calling her name. Gracie walked over to the right side of the stage and climbed the stairs. She held her essay in front of her and she kept turning the pages in one direction and then the other. Her bright flowered sundress swirled around her legs.

  Bogey nodded toward her. “I don’t like the looks of this, kid. She’s having a hard time reading all that junk Frank wrote on her pages.”

  I suddenly started to shake in my paws. What if Gracie couldn’t read what Frank wrote?

  Gracie took big, lumbering steps toward the microphone. She kept on trying to read her papers all the way to the stand.

  Once she got there, she looked up at the audience and smiled. Then she started to read.

  “My name is Gracie Abernathy and I am proud to be an American. It makes me smile every time I see the red, white, and blue — the flag that is the un-de-niable and ir-re-fut . . . ir-re-fut-able . . .”

  She paused for a moment and stared at her essay, before she kept on reading. “Ir-re-fu-table symbol of our country, one of the great, super powers of the world. When I set my eyes upon our flag, I am so happy that the likes of Benjamin Franklin and Patrick Henry and Abigail Adams put their fortunes and their lives on the line to create a country born of an idea. And that idea was freedom. Pure and simple. Freedom.”

  “Wow,” I whispered to my brother. “That doesn’t even sound like her essay at all.”

  Bogey shook his head and frowned. “Don’t I know it, kid. Don’t I know it.”

  Gracie took a deep breath and kept on reading, but very slowly. “While many E
uropean countries are very old, the United States is but a . . . a merry . . . I mean, a mere . . . babe in diapers compared to the likes of France or England. And like a baby, we started out small, with only thirteen colonies — Massachusetts, New Hampshire, Connecticut, Rhode Island, New York, New Jersey, Delaware, Pennsylvania, Virginia, Maryland, North Carolina, South Carolina, and Georgia.”

  She finished reading the paragraph and I could tell she let out a sigh. Though at least she’d stepped away from the microphone before she did.

  I waved at Gracie and tried to get her attention. Just so she would know we were there for her. Especially since she was having such a hard time reading her essay. Or, maybe I should say, the new version of her essay that Frank Jefferson had written.

  She took another breath and kept on reading in a shaky voice. “Let me take you back, way back . . . Back to colon-ial America. Men wore triangle . . . I mean, tri-cornered hats. And women wore long dresses with petti-coats. Somewhere in the distance, a fife and drum were playing. At first life was peaceful in the colonies. But then King George III became a merci-less . . . ty . . . a merci-less ty-rani-cal ruler, an absolute des-pot, and a page in history was turned forever. And the colonists were set on a col-lision course with destiny . . .”

  By now I felt kind of a pain in my chest. Poor Gracie was having so much trouble reading the words on her paper. Partly because she hadn’t practiced this new version of her essay. And partly because she probably couldn’t read Frank’s writing. I only wished the audience could’ve seen her earlier, when she read the essay that she wrote. Because she had done such a wonderful job then.

  I saw her take another breath and I could tell she was fighting back tears.

  “I can’t bear to watch,” I whispered to my brother. “I sure wish this was over.”

  Bogey blinked and lowered his head. “You and me both, kid.”

  I tried to cover my eyes with my paws, but one paw went straight into my ear and the other paw bonked me in the nose.

  Gracie started to read on and then she paused again. That’s when the whole audience gasped.

  Right at that moment, I sure wished I could make my paws go exactly where I wanted them to go. Because, more than anything, I wanted to cover my eyes and ears and anything else. I just didn’t want to see and hear poor Gracie suffer like this. It was bad enough that she couldn’t read what that writer had written on her paper. But it was even worse that everyone in the audience had gasped!

  But then I saw the reason why everyone had gasped. For racing down the aisle and onto the stage was none other than Steele Bronson! His golden hair glinted in the overhead lights, just like the trophy he was still carrying with him.

  Gracie’s mouth fell open wide when he grabbed the microphone from her. He raised his arms up and announced, “It’s me, Steele Bronson! And I declare this little girl to be the winner of this . . .”

  He paused for a moment and glanced at Nadia, who came running up to the side of the stage. She mouthed some words to him and he turned back to the audience.

  “Yes, that’s right!” he went on. “I declare this little girl to be the winner of this Fourth of July essay contest!”

  Suddenly applause rang throughout the auditorium. And people started to cheer.

  My own mouth fell open wide and I think my chin practically hit the floor.

  I turned to Bogey. “You mean, Gracie won the contest?”

  Bogey blinked a few times and shook his head. “I dunno, kid. Doesn’t add up to me.”

  I started to choke and coughed a couple of times. “But she didn’t even finish reading her essay.”

  “I hear ya, kid,” Bogey said.

  I looked back to the stage to see Steele Bronson taking a bow. All the while, Gracie just stood there with wide eyes, staring at him.

  Holy Catnip!

  CHAPTER 8

  Holy Mackerel!

  I could hardly believe it. Steele Bronson stayed on the stage with Gracie while the judges all came up and congratulated her. But to tell you the truth, they really didn’t seem to be paying much attention to her at all. They barely shook hands with her before they each turned to Steele Bronson. The female judge blushed and put her hand to her throat and laughed a tinkling little laugh. The Mayor grabbed Steele Bronson’s hand and started pumping it up and down. The other male judge slapped the movie star on the back.

  The whole audience seemed to be going ooooh and aaaah. Plus people were laughing and talking. Really, really fast.

  And really, really loud.

  Everyone was as excited now as the people were at our Mom’s store earlier today.

  Mrs. Peebles tripped up the stage stairs with the winner’s trophy. But the Librarian barely took her eyes off Steele Bronson as she walked toward Gracie.

  Mrs. Peebles passed the trophy to Gracie and spoke into the microphone. “Gracie will be riding on our float in the parade on Saturday morning. Then she’ll be reading her essay after the town picnic on Saturday night.” She paused and frowned at Gracie. “Hopefully she’ll get a little more practice in before Saturday.”

  All the while, Gracie stood there looking more unhappy than I’ve ever seen her.

  Suddenly a red-haired young man with a camera stepped in front of the stage and started taking pictures. He wore a name badge that read “Press.” I guess that meant he was a reporter.

  I peeked out from our hiding spot and glanced over at the other essay contestants. They all sat silently with wide eyes. Some were frowning and some had their mouths hanging open. I couldn’t tell if they were unhappy or just plain shocked.

  “I don’t understand,” I told Bogey. “How did Gracie win if she didn’t even finish reading her essay? And how did she win when she didn’t do . . .” I paused for a moment. Because I wanted to pick the right words so I didn’t sound like I was being critical of her.

  But I finally just blurted it out. “How did she win when she didn’t do such a great job reading her essay? I don’t think she’d seen a lot of those words before. Or she couldn’t read Frank’s handwriting. Which is really rotten because Gracie is a very good reader!”

  “Doesn’t add up to me either, kid,” Bogey kind of murmured. “And I don’t like it one bit. This is a cheat. Gracie’s getting the short end of the stick here.”

  Funny, but I didn’t know there were any sticks involved in this contest. But apparently getting the short end was a bad thing.

  Still, there was one thing I did know — that Gracie was looking more upset by the minute! And I had to say, I wasn’t exactly sure what to make of it all. She had wanted to win the contest so badly. She wanted that trophy and she wanted to ride on the float. But now that she’d won, something sure didn’t seem right about it all.

  I twitched my whiskers. “I didn’t know Steele Bronson was a judge. He wasn’t here for the whole contest. How did he decide to pick her essay?”

  Bogey let out a long sigh. “You got me on that one, kid. None of this adds up.”

  By now I could tell that Gracie was about to start crying. She just stood there hanging her head and holding her big trophy.

  Holy Catnip! That’s when I’d had about all I could take.

  I stood up, ready to make a leaping run onto that stage. “I’m going to go give Gracie a hug.”

  But Bogey put out an arm. “Sorry, kid. You’ll have to save it for later. Remember, we’re undercover. We’re not even supposed to be here.”

  I gulped. It took everything I had not to go running up to poor Gracie. I knew a good hug would make her feel a whole lot better.

  Then I heard the reporter hollering, “Let’s get a picture of the winner with Steele Bronson!”

  Steele Bronson must have heard the man, because he made a beeline for Gracie and put his arm around her shoulders. He smiled his blinding smile while Gracie stood there looking sad. Then the reporter took a couple of pictures.

  When he was finished, Steele Bronson picked up the microphone again. “I know my unexpected arrival i
s probably the biggest thing that’s ever happened to this town. And a lot of you have been asking why I’m here. Well, I’m going to be filming my newest movie right here in . . .”

  He glanced Nadia. I could see her roll her eyes before she mouthed something up to him again.

  He turned back to the audience, smiled brightly, and finished with, “ . . . right here in St. Gertrude. And, I will be using this library for some scenes in my movie.”

  Murmurs and applause rose from the audience.

  He put his arm around Gracie’s shoulders again. “Plus, as part of the prize for winning this essay contest, I will be having dinner at the home of this lucky little girl tomorrow night. How many kids can say they got to have dinner with Steele Bronson?”

  While the entire audience cheered and clapped some more, I gasped and tilted my head toward Bogey. “He will? He’s coming to dinner at our house? Do our Mom and Dad know about this?”

  Bogey squinted his eyes and stared in the direction of Steele Bronson. “I don’t think so, kid. It will be news to them. It’s a lousy deal, if you ask me. I think I smell a rat. A very big rat.”

  I crinkled my brow. “A rat? Do you think that’s what our Mom and Dad will be serving for dinner?”

  Bogey shook his head. “Nope, kid. Just an expression. It means something seems wrong here.”

  Well, I had to say, he sure had that right. Something did seem wrong. Very wrong.

  Bogey nodded toward the aisle. “We’d better get a move on, kid. We’re supposed to be in our pet carriers when this shindig is over.”

  With that, we stayed low to the ground and carefully wound our way around all the people. Not too many were sitting in their seats anymore. Now they were mostly standing and talking excitedly in the aisles. They were all too busy chatting and looking up at Steele Bronson to notice us. It was only a matter of minutes before we were back in our pet carriers.