Chapter Nineteen

THE DOORS TO THE MERMAID CLUB ARE CLOSED. IN A couple of hours, they will be open for business. I place my bike against the front door and head to the secret entrance. An electrician is working on the fuse box. I guess after all the blackouts, it’s time for the club to get an electrical checkup. Hopefully there will be no more lights out in the club’s future. Or mine.

Mike leans over the bar, writing in his tiny notebook. His face looks intense. Across from him, Angie unloads a box of bottles as she hums a tune to herself.

“Hey, Mike. Are the words flowing today?”

Mike doesn’t answer, but he gives Angie a nudge. Angie in turn pulls out a glass and fills it with bubbly water. Mike then slices a lemon and tucks in a tiny umbrella. “Here you go. A little treat to quench your thirst.”

I take a good look around. The Mermaid Club is no longer the land of sea creatures and mermaid warriors. The battle is officially over. Gone away are the vibrant corals, the textured walls, and the majestic throne. You would never even know that a big movie studio had taken over the Mermaid Club. All the cozy tables are back facing the tank of water. No more blinding spotlights or wires. And no more Mr. Davenport yelling in the megaphone. In fact, the club is quiet.

“Wow. It’s hard to believe the Mermaid Club was once ruled by a queen,” I say.

“What makes you think the Mermaid Club still isn’t ruled by a queen?” Angie says, hauling a box over to the kitchen.

“You miss it? Because I sure don’t,” Mike says. “I like to know what to expect during my day. I’ve also missed your mom and our customers. I won’t lie; I miss making money, too.”

He laughs and looks at the empty tank.

That is the one thing I missed, too. Mom doing what she does best. Mom as a magical mermaid.

“Funny. I never did find out who owned this glove.” I pull out the last of the evidence. Everything else checked out except for this. Walt said someone must have just accidentally dropped it.

“Where did you find it?” Mike exclaims.

“Huh?”

“Angie’s been looking everywhere for it. What with the movie business, I thought for sure we lost it.” Mike takes the white glove and pulls out the matching one from under the bar. “She must have dropped it with the blackouts. Thanks, Goldie!”

I can’t believe it. The owner of the gloves happened to be the one person I forgot to ask. I can’t stop laughing. I grab my glass and head to the dressing room.

“Hey, before you head back there. Thought you might want to see this.” Mike pulls out the latest issue of the Daily Gazette. “Look who made the front page.”

Well, how do you like those seashells? I’m on the front page of the Daily Gazette with the headline LOCAL GAL UNCOVERS DIAMOND HEIST. Byline by none other than Scoops Malone. Walt is also in the picture, as are Mr. Maple and Mr. Davenport. The interview happened a couple of days ago.

“Cool! Can I keep this?”

“Of course you can. We already have, like, ten copies back here.”

I may not have gotten a promotion but Mr. Maple can’t deny my skills, not when it’s printed in black and white for all to see. I might have to frame this. Maybe hang it right alongside my pictures with Mom and Dad. I mean, I cannot believe Scoops wrote this:

“Budding house detective Goldie Vance…”

Now that’s the scoop right there! And he never once divulged how Josephine Walters was filming here. He kept his promise that all he would publish was an exclusive on the missing diamond swimming cap. Scoops may have had questionable working ethics, but he turned out okay. He’ll never be someone I think of as a mentor, like Walt, but I appreciate his drive. We both love uncovering the truth. We just have different ways of approaching it.

I knock on the dressing room door three times.

“C’mon in, babe.”

Mom faces the vanity mirror, applying purple eye shadow.

“Hi, Mom! Did you see who made the front-page news today?” I say. “Me!”

“Look at you. Your name in print. Why do I feel like this won’t be your last piece in the news?” She hugs me and I sit next to her.

“Actually, to be a great detective, it’s probably best not to be in the spotlight. A great detective stays behind the scenes. It’s the only way to gather the best information,” I say. Mom nods, listening attentively. “I made an exception because I wanted printed proof of Mr. Davenport’s apology.”

Mom laughs.

“Did you see his other gift?” Mom points to a bouquet of flowers. Beautiful red roses. Their fragrance fills the room. “In his note, he said if we ever want to make it in Hollywood to look him up.”

“Hollywood can’t compare to St. Pascal. We’ve got everything we need here. Right?”

“Don’t worry, babe. I don’t think I’ll be paying Hollywood a visit anytime soon,” Mom says. “Especially not when I have rehearsal in less than twenty minutes.”

I’m so glad Mom is right where she’s meant to be, doing underwater flips with such grace and wonder. I hand over her fin and she puts it on.

“Have you ever thought of incorporating a crown?” I ask.

Mom shakes her head. “I know I’m royalty. I don’t need a crown to prove it.”

The other dancers enter the room. They greet me with hugs and applause for my newspaper article. It feels good to be acknowledged for a job well done.

I think today’s Mermaid Club show is going to be extra special. I’ll be sitting in the front row, eager to watch.