carton of chocolate smoothie. Sherlock's cap was now dripping in chocolate goo! I quickly rummaged through my picture collection until I found one of my favorites, Shirley Temple. Don't laugh. The picture wasn't too wet. I wrung out the cap, put the picture inside, and put it on. Nothing happened. No blonde curls. No cute frilly dress. No tap shoes. This was not happening!
I took a deep cleansing breath because panicking is so bad for my disposition. I'd just have to wing it and hope Sherlock's cap would be back to normal once it dried out. In the meantime, I still needed a disguise. There was nothing I could do about my sparkly tennis shoes. But two minutes later, my short red-streaked hair was tucked under the soggy tweed cap. I searched for a better place to hide, hoping Alex and Lily were okay. I could call them but the rules of scatter dictated I wait at least an hour.
I found a tiny café away from the center of town. I settled at one of the tables in back with a hot chocolate so I could think. I took a sip and sighed in contentment. It was perfect. Not too sweet or bitter and with the right amount of milk. But, I digress. I didn't believe for a second Father Billon's journal belonged to Dr. McFarland. What I couldn't figure out was how she knew we had it. Alex and Mrs. T. always carefully screen any new clients the society takes on. The Price Institute was no different. Unless the Price Institute was in on whatever crap McFarland was trying to pull. And if so, one well-placed phone call from Everett Tarpley's widow would ensure they never got another dime in funding. The Price Institute would be toast. Speaking of Mrs. T., I knew she was going to flip out when she woke up and found Mia gone. So I texted her a brief message letting her know she was with us and leaving out the fact McFarland was here until I could reconnect with Alex and Lily.
I shoved my cell phone in my pocket and my fingers brushed against the card Father Crozier had given me. I'd forgotten all about it. Since, he'd wanted me to look for his cat, I figured the card might have his address on it or something. But it was a just a white business card with two things on it: a picture of a black cat, with its tail curled into a question mark and a phone number. No name or address. Weird. Why did he give this card to me? He'd been hit on the head pretty hard and probably had some of his marbles knocked loose. I started to pitch the card in a nearby trashcan when I remembered the priest's reaction when I asked him about Father Billon. I called the number on the card but only got a recording in French and English asking me to leave a name and number. I couldn't figure out what to do and must have been staring off into space because I didn't even notice Bald Guy walk up on me until he ripped the cap right off my head and tossed it over his shoulder. He towered over me.
"Hello, Sunshine. Miss me?" A bloody tissue had been shoved up one of his nostrils. Blood stained the front of his shirt. He had two black eyes and a big bruise on his jaw from where Lily had socked him. I was paralyzed with fear until I saw gold lame sequins from my tennis shoe on the left knee of his pants. The sequins formed a smiley face. I burst out laughing. Bad idea.
"Think I'm funny, eh? Let's see how funny you think this is." He took his meaty fist and slammed it down on the small round table I was sitting at, smashing my cell phone to pieces and spilling hot chocolate all over me. Not cool. So not cool.
I jumped up from the table poised to run but he was blocking the entrance. The café was tiny with only a few tables, and he took up most of what was left of the space. He swung at me and I ducked, dropped to the floor, and scooted backwards like a crab. He started knocking over tables and flinging chairs trying to get to me. He had me backed against the wall with nowhere to go until someone started yelling.
" Arret! Arret!" It was the café owner, waving his arms and running
I took a deep cleansing breath because panicking is so bad for my disposition. I'd just have to wing it and hope Sherlock's cap would be back to normal once it dried out. In the meantime, I still needed a disguise. There was nothing I could do about my sparkly tennis shoes. But two minutes later, my short red-streaked hair was tucked under the soggy tweed cap. I searched for a better place to hide, hoping Alex and Lily were okay. I could call them but the rules of scatter dictated I wait at least an hour.
I found a tiny café away from the center of town. I settled at one of the tables in back with a hot chocolate so I could think. I took a sip and sighed in contentment. It was perfect. Not too sweet or bitter and with the right amount of milk. But, I digress. I didn't believe for a second Father Billon's journal belonged to Dr. McFarland. What I couldn't figure out was how she knew we had it. Alex and Mrs. T. always carefully screen any new clients the society takes on. The Price Institute was no different. Unless the Price Institute was in on whatever crap McFarland was trying to pull. And if so, one well-placed phone call from Everett Tarpley's widow would ensure they never got another dime in funding. The Price Institute would be toast. Speaking of Mrs. T., I knew she was going to flip out when she woke up and found Mia gone. So I texted her a brief message letting her know she was with us and leaving out the fact McFarland was here until I could reconnect with Alex and Lily.
I shoved my cell phone in my pocket and my fingers brushed against the card Father Crozier had given me. I'd forgotten all about it. Since, he'd wanted me to look for his cat, I figured the card might have his address on it or something. But it was a just a white business card with two things on it: a picture of a black cat, with its tail curled into a question mark and a phone number. No name or address. Weird. Why did he give this card to me? He'd been hit on the head pretty hard and probably had some of his marbles knocked loose. I started to pitch the card in a nearby trashcan when I remembered the priest's reaction when I asked him about Father Billon. I called the number on the card but only got a recording in French and English asking me to leave a name and number. I couldn't figure out what to do and must have been staring off into space because I didn't even notice Bald Guy walk up on me until he ripped the cap right off my head and tossed it over his shoulder. He towered over me.
"Hello, Sunshine. Miss me?" A bloody tissue had been shoved up one of his nostrils. Blood stained the front of his shirt. He had two black eyes and a big bruise on his jaw from where Lily had socked him. I was paralyzed with fear until I saw gold lame sequins from my tennis shoe on the left knee of his pants. The sequins formed a smiley face. I burst out laughing. Bad idea.
"Think I'm funny, eh? Let's see how funny you think this is." He took his meaty fist and slammed it down on the small round table I was sitting at, smashing my cell phone to pieces and spilling hot chocolate all over me. Not cool. So not cool.
I jumped up from the table poised to run but he was blocking the entrance. The café was tiny with only a few tables, and he took up most of what was left of the space. He swung at me and I ducked, dropped to the floor, and scooted backwards like a crab. He started knocking over tables and flinging chairs trying to get to me. He had me backed against the wall with nowhere to go until someone started yelling.
" Arret! Arret!" It was the café owner, waving his arms and running
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