Dr. Girard to have something to do with the Andora mystery, maybe I’d misjudged him. He could have been talking to Miranda about any local family. It didn’t have to be mine.
The doorbell rang.
“Andi, can you answer that?” Amelie called out.
I sighed and stood up, putting Dr. Girard’s books back on the shelf where I’d found them. Amelie couldn’t answer the door because she’d wrapped herself into a pretzel and would snap off a toe if she tried. And she tells me yoga is relaxing.
I opened the front door and gaped.
“Just the person I want to see,” Dr. Girard said in a fake-friendly voice.
CASE FILE NO. 14
“Andi, who is it?” Amelie called. I heard a thump from the living room, and a few seconds later, Amelie stood beside me. “Anthony? What are you doing here?” She looked from Dr. Girard to me.
“And hello to you too, Amelie.” He eyed her outfit. “I see you’re making the most of your summer break.”
“I’m trying to. Can I help you with something?”
Dr. Girard smiled without showing any teeth. “In truth, I’m not here to talk with you.” Dr. Girard adjusted the collar of his polo shirt. “I’d like to speak with your niece, Andi.”
Amelie blinked. “Andi? Why?” Her brow wrinkled. “It’s not because—”
“I met Dr. Girard at the Bottling Museum last week. Remember? I know I told you that, Aunt Amelie,” I said in a rush because I knew she was about to ask Dr.Girard if he knew I’d followed him into his office during lunch.
“That’s right,” Dr. Girard said. “And I was impressed by her keen interest in local history.” He smiled at me. “I thought she might be able to help me with my latest book project.”
“Which is?” Amelie asked.
“A book on children of the Great Depression.”
I had been right. Dr. Girard had to be here because of Andora. But how did he know that Andora lived during the Great Depression? Mr. Finnigan. He must have told Dr. Girard about Andora.
“Can I come inside to discuss this matter further?”
Amelie winced. “Why don’t you two talk outside on the front porch?” She gave Dr. Girard a small smile. “Andi and her sister are cleaning out the attic, so the house is a mess right now.”
Dr. Girard pulled at his collar, his hair was starting to curl up from the humidity. “Very well.”
“Go ahead and take a seat, Anthony. I’ll get you two some iced tea,” Amelie said.
I stepped onto the front porch, and Dr. Girard sat down in the rocking chair at the end of the porch. I perched on the porch swing, kicked off the porch floorboards hard, and the swing flew back with a protesting creak. I swung my legs up on the bench and let it rock me back and forth like the waves that carried the red and blue sailboats along my father’s wallpaper.
Dr. Girard cleared his throat. He pulled a tiny memo pad out of his jacket pocket. I wrinkled my nose when I noticed he was wearing black socks and sandals.
“So, Andi, this should be quick. I have just a few questions for you to answer. I don’t want to take up too much of your time.”
Sure you don’t
, I thought unkindly. I tried to squelch the irritable thoughts. My mother would have said that I make too many snap judgments and I should give Dr. Girard the benefit of the doubt, whatever that meant. He already had my doubt.
“I must admit that I was surprised to see you and your friend Kevin in the museum on such a beautiful summer day. I imagine most of your peers were out swimming or playing baseball.”
“Colin,” I corrected.
“Of course. Colin. I apologize,” he said smoothly. He pulled a pen from his shirt pocket. “What brought you to the Killdeer Historical Society?”
“Colin wanted me to see it.” If we were going to talk about Andora, Dr. Girard would have to mention her first.
“Ah! Should I be talking to Colin, then?”
I shrugged. “If you want to. He lives right next door.” I pointed toward the Carters’ house.
He tapped his chin with a
The doorbell rang.
“Andi, can you answer that?” Amelie called out.
I sighed and stood up, putting Dr. Girard’s books back on the shelf where I’d found them. Amelie couldn’t answer the door because she’d wrapped herself into a pretzel and would snap off a toe if she tried. And she tells me yoga is relaxing.
I opened the front door and gaped.
“Just the person I want to see,” Dr. Girard said in a fake-friendly voice.
CASE FILE NO. 14
“Andi, who is it?” Amelie called. I heard a thump from the living room, and a few seconds later, Amelie stood beside me. “Anthony? What are you doing here?” She looked from Dr. Girard to me.
“And hello to you too, Amelie.” He eyed her outfit. “I see you’re making the most of your summer break.”
“I’m trying to. Can I help you with something?”
Dr. Girard smiled without showing any teeth. “In truth, I’m not here to talk with you.” Dr. Girard adjusted the collar of his polo shirt. “I’d like to speak with your niece, Andi.”
Amelie blinked. “Andi? Why?” Her brow wrinkled. “It’s not because—”
“I met Dr. Girard at the Bottling Museum last week. Remember? I know I told you that, Aunt Amelie,” I said in a rush because I knew she was about to ask Dr.Girard if he knew I’d followed him into his office during lunch.
“That’s right,” Dr. Girard said. “And I was impressed by her keen interest in local history.” He smiled at me. “I thought she might be able to help me with my latest book project.”
“Which is?” Amelie asked.
“A book on children of the Great Depression.”
I had been right. Dr. Girard had to be here because of Andora. But how did he know that Andora lived during the Great Depression? Mr. Finnigan. He must have told Dr. Girard about Andora.
“Can I come inside to discuss this matter further?”
Amelie winced. “Why don’t you two talk outside on the front porch?” She gave Dr. Girard a small smile. “Andi and her sister are cleaning out the attic, so the house is a mess right now.”
Dr. Girard pulled at his collar, his hair was starting to curl up from the humidity. “Very well.”
“Go ahead and take a seat, Anthony. I’ll get you two some iced tea,” Amelie said.
I stepped onto the front porch, and Dr. Girard sat down in the rocking chair at the end of the porch. I perched on the porch swing, kicked off the porch floorboards hard, and the swing flew back with a protesting creak. I swung my legs up on the bench and let it rock me back and forth like the waves that carried the red and blue sailboats along my father’s wallpaper.
Dr. Girard cleared his throat. He pulled a tiny memo pad out of his jacket pocket. I wrinkled my nose when I noticed he was wearing black socks and sandals.
“So, Andi, this should be quick. I have just a few questions for you to answer. I don’t want to take up too much of your time.”
Sure you don’t
, I thought unkindly. I tried to squelch the irritable thoughts. My mother would have said that I make too many snap judgments and I should give Dr. Girard the benefit of the doubt, whatever that meant. He already had my doubt.
“I must admit that I was surprised to see you and your friend Kevin in the museum on such a beautiful summer day. I imagine most of your peers were out swimming or playing baseball.”
“Colin,” I corrected.
“Of course. Colin. I apologize,” he said smoothly. He pulled a pen from his shirt pocket. “What brought you to the Killdeer Historical Society?”
“Colin wanted me to see it.” If we were going to talk about Andora, Dr. Girard would have to mention her first.
“Ah! Should I be talking to Colin, then?”
I shrugged. “If you want to. He lives right next door.” I pointed toward the Carters’ house.
He tapped his chin with a
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