Framed by Gordon Korman Page B

at Ben from his collar. A quick murmured “Sorry, pal” was all the apology Ben had time for. He had to drop the metal detector at home and meet the rest of the team at school before calisthenics.
    Melissa pulled the papers from her printer and stuffed them in the computer bag that served as her backpack. Ever since the fiasco at Konrad’s, she had been monitoring the e-mail of the four suspects, Celia White, Darren Vader, Tony Bartholomew, and Dr. Egan.
    The meeting place was Ben’s locker. This was for two reasons. First, it was close to the entrance, so they could run outside quickly when calisthenics started. And second, it was right next to Griffin’s locker. That closed vented door — and the friend who was not there to open it — served as a reminder that they could not give up until they had won justice for The Man With The Plan.
    Ben, Pitch, and Logan were leaning againstthe beige metal row when Melissa arrived. Only Savannah could not attend. Since the discovery of the command center, her parents had been watching her every move. To leave for school an hour early would have seemed suspicious when so much heat was on. Savannah was walking on eggs.
    “Celia White’s a dead end,” Pitch was telling the others. “There was nothing but junk in her desk.” She turned to Ben. “Any luck with Vader?”
    “If getting slimed with Gatorade counts, it was the luckiest day of my life,” Ben replied bitterly. He squeezed the front of his sweatshirt, wringing out a trickle of yellow liquid. “His gym bag’s clean, though. The metal detector didn’t beep.”
    “I struck out with Tony Bartholomew,” Logan confessed, shamefaced. “I used the Stanislavski method to portray his cousin from Arizona, but he saw right through it. I probably didn’t have enough time to prepare for the role.”
    “Probably,” Pitch agreed sarcastically. “Either that or he recognized a kid he sees around school every single day.”
    “I might have something on Tony,” Melissa ventured, taking the papers from her bag. “He sent an e-mail asking about Super Bowl rings and howmuch they’re worth. That could be because he’s trying to sell one.”
    “Or he could just be pricing them since he thinks the missing one is his,” Ben said with a sigh. “Face it, we’re right back where we started. We can’t even totally rule out Dr. Evil. Just because the ring wasn’t in the box he brought to Konrad’s doesn’t mean he hasn’t got it stashed someplace else.”
    Melissa parted her curtain of hair to reveal a furrowed brow. “There must be something we’re missing here.”
    Pitch nodded slowly. “You know what always bugged me? How could a Super Bowl ring sit in the custodian’s supply closet for all those years without anyone noticing it?”
    “Maybe nobody recognized it for what it was,” Logan suggested.
    “No way,” Pitch countered. “Mr. Clancy’s head practically exploded when I mentioned the sixty-nine Jets, and he’s in that closet, like, twenty times a day. I say we check it out.”
    The storage area doubled as offices for the building custodians. It was located down a half flight of steps by the back entrance. On one side of the space was the school’s loading bay. On theother, the staircase continued to the furnace room in the basement.
    The team approached cautiously, hugging the banister. The storeroom was off-limits to students. No one wanted to have to explain what they were doing there.
    Pitch peered around the wall of the landing. No custodians. “All clear,” she whispered.
    They stepped out into the loading bay and saw it immediately. Mr. Clancy’s work area was a symphony of blue and white. Colts posters, pennants, and bumper stickers were everywhere. The walls were plastered with photographs of great Colts players from Johnny Unitas to Peyton Manning. A Colts stadium blanket held the place of honor, draped over the custodian’s desk chair.
    Ferret Face stopped sucking on Ben’s Gatorade-soaked