The Man with the Red Bag Read Online Free PDF

whispered, sliding out of her seat.
    She and I were the last off the bus. I immediately checked for Charles Stavros. There he was, standing aloof from everyone, red bag securely against his chest.
    â€œCheck your watches,” Declan said. “We’ll get under way at four sharp. We want to make it to Grand Teton National Park in time for our elegant dinner at Jackson Lake Lodge.”
    Millie and Beth were standing right next to us.
    â€œYou know what?” Millie said to me. “I’m dying to know what Stavros has in that bag. I might just askhim. It’s always better to be straightforward.”
    Beth groaned. “Give us a break, Millie. You don’t mean straightforward. You mean nosy.”
    Geneva nudged me and we made sure we were close by as Millie wandered casually up to Stavros.
    â€œI’m leaving,” Beth said. “You are such an embarrassment sometimes, Mill.”
    â€œGo for it, Millie,” Geneva breathed.
    Millie gave Stavros a bogus smile. “Hi, Chuck. Do you like to be called Chuck? It’s friendly, don’t you think?”
    â€œActually, it may be friendly but I don’t like it.” His smile under his mustache was just as bogus as hers.
    Geneva gave an excited little hiss.
    Millie leaned forward and touched the red bag with the tip of her finger. “Your bag must have something very valuable in it. I mean, even those two black dogs, Primo and whatever his name was, wanted to know.”
    Stavros took a step back. For a second I thought he was going to hold the bag above his head the way he did with the dogs. He stood before her like a mountain, maybe as big as one of the Tetons we weregoing to see later. “It is valuable to me, yes,” he said. “Now, if you’ll excuse me.” He stepped toward her and this time Millie was the one who moved back.
    â€œWell, what an ignoramus,” she muttered as he walked away. Her face was red and mottled, like a chicken’s comb. “You just wait, Mr. so-called Charles Stavros.” She turned to me. “I’ve called my friend Paulie back at the office. He’s going to get that picture from the Times and fax it to me tomorrow at the Old Faithful Inn in Yellowstone. We’ll be there day after next. Then we shall see what we shall see, and find out just who Stavros is.”
    â€œWill you show the picture to us?” Geneva asked.
    â€œShow it to you? I’ll show it to the police, that’s what I’ll do.”
    She whirled away.
    â€œOoh, she’s mad!” Geneva said. “Just imagine, though, if she’s right.”
    Midge had been leaning against the porch railing. “I overheard a bit of that,” she said mildly. “I just want to say that if Mr. Stavros’s puppy lay against that bag, back in his apartment, or if she maybe urinated on it, the bag would be a big attraction to dogs.Especially to male dogs.”
    Geneva held her nose. “Gross,” she muttered.
    I wanted to have a tantrum, right there. Were all my mysterious clues going to turn out to have ordinary explanations? No, there was still the question of what was in that bag.
    Geneva’s dad came up then and said: “Geneva. Would you like to take a walk up Main Street?”
    â€œSorry, Kevin and I are going to the Cowboy Emporium,” Geneva said.
    It was the first I’d heard of it.
    â€œOh,” her father said. Just that one word before he turned away.
    â€œWhy are you so mean to him?” I asked.
    Geneva tossed her head, which would have been a lot more dramatic if she’d had long hair instead of those yellow clumps. “Want to go to the emporium?”
    â€œSure. Just let me check with Grandma,” I said.
    Grandma said okay. But she told us to stay together and not be too long.
    The Cowboy Emporium was just across the street. There was a statue of a cowboy on his horse at the doorway and an Indian war bonnet in the window,and I did