finished, Paige was glaring as if she thought it was Abby’s fault their exciting murder mystery had turned out to be nothing but a bunch of kindergartners and their dead rabbit. But after a moment she shrugged and stopped frowning. “Okay,” she said. “We’ll just have to look for another mystery to solve. It won’t take long. I found the first two in just a couple of days.”
Paige thought for a minute, nodding slowly. “Maybe at Squaw,” she said. “It won’t be long until winter vacation. With all the lodges full of people maybe getting into fights on the ski runs, like those boys we saw last year who were trying to hit each other with their snowboards. Remember that? I’ll bet we can find all kinds of crimes to investigate on the ski runs.”
“Yeah, maybe,” Abby said. But she was thinking, Or else we’ll be too busy skiing.
After that nobody said much of anything for quite a long time. Abby stretched out on her stomach with her chin in her hands and thought about how soon it would be winter vacation and how much she was looking forward to it. And how lucky she was to have a friend like Paige, whose family owned one of the nicest cabins—if you could call a house with half a dozen bedrooms a cabin—in Squaw Valley and took Abby along with them three or four times a year just so Paige would have somebody her own age to ski with.
The scene she was imagining—or remembering—shifted from the view of the beautiful snow-covered forest that surrounded the Bordens’ cabin to the valley floor spreading out far below the gondola. Picturing how the sleek silvery ski runs streaked down the mountain between thick patches of snowy forest, she couldn’t help shivering in anticipation.
Then she was recalling, as she often did, the time Ms. David, the ski instructor, told the other beginners to watch Abby O’Malley because she was already doing a perfect snowplow. And of course, that other time, when she’d overheard Ms. David telling Mrs. Borden that she’d never worked with a beginner who was such a natural on the slopes. That had happened just four winter vacations before, the first year Abby had gone to Squaw with the Bordens. And Abby’s plans to be an Olympic skier had started just about then.
Rolling onto her back, she put her arm across her eyes and let her daydream go from those remembered scenes at Squaw to some imagined ones in which Abigail O’Malley was competing in a downhill or maybe a slalom. She imagined how she passed every gate smooth and tight, and how the waiting crowd cheered and waved when the loudspeaker called out her time. And then there she was, standing on the highest pedestal while they hung a gold medal around her neck.
But her dreams faded when Paige poked her and said, “Wake up. Did you hear me? I was saying that I really think we should look for at least one more mystery to work on before we go to Squaw. Don’t you think so?”
So before she left for home, Abby had to agree to keep looking for suspicious events, which she did try to do now and then, between getting ready for midyear exams and doing Christmas shopping and decorating and all the other things that came before winter vacation. Occasionally she did take a few minutes to think about crimes and mysteries, but it didn’t seem to be just now and then as far as Paige was concerned. It was pretty obvious that Paige’s mind was still focused on finding another project for the P. and A. Agency to start working on. And wouldn’t you know it, just as always when Paige set her mind on making something happen, before long she did seem to be finding some interesting possibilities. One of the first—in fact, you might say two of the first—concerned a certain hundred dollar bill that might, or might not, be a counterfeit.
The bill, which was a Christmas present Paige had received from one of her grandmothers, did have an unfamiliar look to it. The pictures of a grayish Benjamin Franklin on one side and the
Paige thought for a minute, nodding slowly. “Maybe at Squaw,” she said. “It won’t be long until winter vacation. With all the lodges full of people maybe getting into fights on the ski runs, like those boys we saw last year who were trying to hit each other with their snowboards. Remember that? I’ll bet we can find all kinds of crimes to investigate on the ski runs.”
“Yeah, maybe,” Abby said. But she was thinking, Or else we’ll be too busy skiing.
After that nobody said much of anything for quite a long time. Abby stretched out on her stomach with her chin in her hands and thought about how soon it would be winter vacation and how much she was looking forward to it. And how lucky she was to have a friend like Paige, whose family owned one of the nicest cabins—if you could call a house with half a dozen bedrooms a cabin—in Squaw Valley and took Abby along with them three or four times a year just so Paige would have somebody her own age to ski with.
The scene she was imagining—or remembering—shifted from the view of the beautiful snow-covered forest that surrounded the Bordens’ cabin to the valley floor spreading out far below the gondola. Picturing how the sleek silvery ski runs streaked down the mountain between thick patches of snowy forest, she couldn’t help shivering in anticipation.
Then she was recalling, as she often did, the time Ms. David, the ski instructor, told the other beginners to watch Abby O’Malley because she was already doing a perfect snowplow. And of course, that other time, when she’d overheard Ms. David telling Mrs. Borden that she’d never worked with a beginner who was such a natural on the slopes. That had happened just four winter vacations before, the first year Abby had gone to Squaw with the Bordens. And Abby’s plans to be an Olympic skier had started just about then.
Rolling onto her back, she put her arm across her eyes and let her daydream go from those remembered scenes at Squaw to some imagined ones in which Abigail O’Malley was competing in a downhill or maybe a slalom. She imagined how she passed every gate smooth and tight, and how the waiting crowd cheered and waved when the loudspeaker called out her time. And then there she was, standing on the highest pedestal while they hung a gold medal around her neck.
But her dreams faded when Paige poked her and said, “Wake up. Did you hear me? I was saying that I really think we should look for at least one more mystery to work on before we go to Squaw. Don’t you think so?”
So before she left for home, Abby had to agree to keep looking for suspicious events, which she did try to do now and then, between getting ready for midyear exams and doing Christmas shopping and decorating and all the other things that came before winter vacation. Occasionally she did take a few minutes to think about crimes and mysteries, but it didn’t seem to be just now and then as far as Paige was concerned. It was pretty obvious that Paige’s mind was still focused on finding another project for the P. and A. Agency to start working on. And wouldn’t you know it, just as always when Paige set her mind on making something happen, before long she did seem to be finding some interesting possibilities. One of the first—in fact, you might say two of the first—concerned a certain hundred dollar bill that might, or might not, be a counterfeit.
The bill, which was a Christmas present Paige had received from one of her grandmothers, did have an unfamiliar look to it. The pictures of a grayish Benjamin Franklin on one side and the
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