Bonfire Masquerade by Franklin W. Dixon Page A

were at was nice. It was a weird old barbecue joint way out in the middle of nowhere. It was named, appropriately enough, the Joint. And the food was good.
    Aaron wasn’t much help. He and Bess were chattingquietly with each other on the other side of the table, leaving me stranded with Andrew, who seemed to assume that I liked the sound of his voice as much as he obviously did.
    I stared at my fork, idly wondering if I could somehow stab myself accidentally and get to go to the hospital.
    â€œI said, don’t you just love the Royal We?”
    I snapped to attention. For once, Andrew was actually asking me a question!
    â€œYeah, I—”
    â€œRight? They’re great. They played at my birthday last year.”
    I thought about telling him I knew Kijani, the lead singer of the Royal We. But I doubted he would even notice I was still talking.
    I knew this was important, that by getting Andrew out of his house we were helping to solve the case, but man, would I much rather have been the one breaking in!
    â€œAaron throws the best parties, of course. Don’t you, Aaron? He even threw a huge party immediately after Katrina. There can be no excuse, he says, for canceling a party. Right?”
    Aaron shrugged. “Please, you flatter me. I try to make my own little additions to the social calendar of the city, that’s all.”
    â€œYou’ll be coming to his ball tomorrow, of course,” Andrew said to Bess and me. “Aaron’s providing all the costumes! He won’t tell us what the theme is. It’s unheard of. Who knows what he’ll have us dressed up as? Buildings, probably. My outfit better fit right, that’s all I’m saying.”
    Finally I couldn’t take it anymore. Andrew took a deep breath, probably to complain again, and I saw my chance.
    â€œSo, Aaron,” I said, cutting Andrew off and leaning across the table. “Bess tells me you have big plans for New Orleans?”
    Aaron smiled. “Yes!” he said. “I’ve always loved this city, but it’s stuck in the past. It needs to join the twenty-first century. And I am just the person to bring it there. I have a ten-year plan to put this city on the map, architecturally. To make it a … a shining beacon for modern architecture!”
    â€œYou must be excited at the possibility of having Daniel’s place to work on.”
    â€œThe sadness of his death makes excitement seem wrong. But it will be the first property I work on that I own outright,” he responded. “So I am excited. If I get it.”
    â€œSince Nicole dropped out of the bidding, I can’t see how you wouldn’t get it. You’re the only serious offer out there!”
    â€œNicole what?”
    â€œShe dropped out. I mean, that’s what she told me.”
    â€œYou were talking with her?”
    â€œYeah,” I said. This was not where I wanted the conversation to go. The last thing I wanted was to tip off Andrew to the investigation. “Just helping my dad out some.”
    â€œNancy has a way of ferreting out information,” said Bess. “She’s got quite the reputation for crime solving back in River Heights.”
    Was I mistaken, or did Andrew twitch when Bess mentioned crimes?
    â€œInteresting,” said Aaron. His eyes had a faraway look in them, as though he was looking right through me. He shook his head and snapped back to attention.
    â€œI didn’t know that. I guess this is a celebratory dinner, then!” He raised his glass in a toast. “To the future of New Orleans.”
    We clinked glasses. I did my best to keep him on the topic of the city, which was infinitely more interesting than hearing about Andrew’s outfit at his twenty-first birthday party. I could sense Andrew pouting next to me, but I ignored him as best I could.
    Halfway through dinner, a text arrived from Joe.
    â€œKeep them there! On our way!”
    A tingle went through my