Finding the Forger Read Online Free PDF Page B

first. I liked that advice, too. I wished I’d had some dessert with which to implement it, but I only had an apple, and an apple just isn’t the same thing as a cookie—I don’t care what nutritionists tell you.
    “Some alarm tripped. Nothing special. Electrical snafu or something.”
    “Who told you that?”
    “Hector.” As soon as she said it, her face reddened. Hector— the “Latino” she was afraid her boss was fingering for . . . whatever.
    “Is Hector a good worker?”
    “Yeah! Why do you ask?”
    “Just wondering if that’s why you overheard your boss talking about him—you know, complaining.”
    “I don’t know why she was talking about him. That’s part of the problem!” Clearly, talking about this upset Sarah. She suspected something, but was afraid to voice it. I’d have to back up and get her to calm down if I wanted to get more out of her.
    Ever since I got involved in Sarah’s own mystery earlier in the fall, I found I had a hankering for mysteries in general. I thought I might have some talent in that regard—figuring things out. And I wanted my sister Connie to hire me to help out in her fledgling private eye business next summer. It would be a lot better than working at Burger Boy, which was Tony’s place of part-time employment. And a lot better than baby-sitting, which was what my mother was trying to line up for me.
    Me as a babysitter? That had disaster written all over it. The only thing I knew about miniature people was that they leaked—theirnoses ran, their mouths drooled, and other parts were always wet and needing changing. Not the right kind of job for “glam girl.”
    No, I saw myself in trench coat and Fedora finding Maltese Falcons and kidnapped heiresses. Which brought me back to the museum, Sarah, and Hector.
    “Does your boss know that you and Hector are friends?” I asked.
    “No. Don’t think so. It’s all business in the office. I stay pretty busy. And Hector has his rounds and all.”
    “So when do you get to talk to him?”
    “On his breaks. He takes his breaks outside in this small parking lot in the back. Next to the dumpster.”
    Wow. How romantic. A rendezvous near the dumpster.
    “Does your boss see you?”
    “No. Why?”
    “Well, if she doesn’t know you’re friends with Hector, you might be able to get some info out of her. Ask her some pointed questions.”
    Sarah brightened. “Like what?”
    “Well, you could get her talking about the alarm. Ask her if she suspects foul play—if someone tripped it on purpose.”
    “Yeah.” Sarah liked that idea, and frankly, so did I. While I had every intention of pumping my sister for info if she got the museum job, I also could use my own powers of investigation—by using Sarah as my agent, my plant, my mole—my whatever!
    “And then you could casually ask her if they ever had that problem before—someone tripping the alarm. And then kind of casually say something like ‘who would even know how to do that—the guards?’ and see what she says, see if she says anythingabout Hector.” I was getting excited about this. I knew exactly how I would handle the investigation. I could even envision myself “casually” asking all those questions.
    “Thanks, Bianca. I’ll try that the next time I’m there.”
    Okay, that mystery was percolating, so onto the next one—like what was up with Kerrie. After gulping down my sandwich, which was no mean feat considering it was dry as kindling, I sashayed over to Kerrie’s new lunch table. I didn’t care what she thought. I was going to get to the bottom of this. Hmm . . . this hair thing had an “up” side. It was emboldening me, giving me a “devil may care” attitude about life. I mean, after you suffer through hair humiliation, the only way to go is up, right?
    “Kerrie, do you have a sec?” I asked, standing next to her table. She looked surprised.
    “Uh. Yeah. What do you want?”
    “I need to talk to you. Privately.”
    Reddening, she stood