The girls entered the small room and shut the door behind them. Megan was on her knees, surrounded by cans of tomato paste. She held a dustrag in her hand and appeared to be cleaning the bottom shelf.
“Look at this,” she said.
The girls leaned forward, but the dim lighting made it difficult to see. “Isn’t there a better light in here?” Elizabeth asked.
“One of the bulbs is burned out,” Megan told her. “But you can still see if you look close enough.”
McKenzie got down on her knees and examined the wall where Megan was cleaning. Elizabeth bent low and looked over her shoulder. Sure enough, there was a square break in the paneling, just large enough for a small teenage girl to crawl through.
“Do you think it’s a secret passageway?” McKenzie asked.
“I don’t know what it is. I haven’t been able to get it open. There are a couple of screws, but I need a screwdriver. Do you think the marbles could be hidden here?”
“That’s what we were coming to talk to you about,” Elizabeth told Megan. “We read in the journal that Emily Marie was planning to put the marbles in a safe-deposit box at the bank. We may be wasting our time here.”
Megan looked at Elizabeth, then McKenzie, her mouth hanging open. “You mean I’ve been breaking my back in here for nothing?” she said.
McKenzie chuckled. “Well, look on the bright side. Just think how impressed your boss will be that you spent your free time cleaning out the supply room.”
The three girls returned the cans to the lower shelf and left the small room.
“It’s time for me to clock in,” said Megan, looking at her watch. “I’ll see you both this afternoon. Maybe we’ll actually find the marbles!”
Elizabeth and McKenzie left the kitchen and spotted the Phillips family at a corner table in the restaurant. “Come on,” McKenzie said. “Let’s join them. I’m starved!”
“Me too,” agreed Elizabeth.
Before long they were each devouring a tall stack of pancakes, drenched in syrup and covered with whipped cream. Outside the window, the sun peeked through the clouds. The rain had stopped.
As they ate, Mr. and Mrs. Phillips asked, “So, what do you want to do today?”
The girls both shrugged their shoulders and kept eating. They were having fun, as long as they were together.
“I’d like to go shopping,” said Mrs. Phillips. “I saw some little boutiques a few blocks over.”
Evan groaned, and Mr. Phillips shifted in his seat. “Why don’t you girls go shopping, and Evan and I will hang out here with the horses and the cowboys?” the man suggested.
The girls nodded, and before long, the three females headed toward Amarillo’s shopping district.
In and out of shops they went, looking at Texas-shaped handbags encrusted with rhinestones, flashy cowgirl boots and hats, and western wear in all colors and sizes. Before they knew it, two hours had passed.
They were on their way back to the motel when McKenzie spotted a fun-looking thrift shop. “Oh, I want to see what they have in there, Mom,” she said.
“I want to run across the street to the post office and get some stamps,” Mrs. Phillips said, waving a handful of postcards. “Why don’t you two go over there, and I’ll meet you after I mail these.”
The girls entered the old store and were thrilled at the endless racks of vintage clothing, hats, and scarves. McKenzie wasted no time trying on a dark pair of sunglasses, an oversize hat, and a feather boa.
Elizabeth laughed at her friend’s outfit and then spotted a large cardboard box filled with wigs. Within moments, she was a brunette with long, messy curls.
The girls giggled as they tried on an array of wigs, scarves, and jewelry. They were completely unrecognizable when the bell over the door jangled. The two looked toward the entrance expecting to find Mrs. Phillips. Instead, Mark Jacobs walked toward them, a serious look on his face.
They froze. What in the world could a cowboy like Mr. Jacobs want in a girlie thrift shop like this? The man nodded at the girls, but kept walking. He didn’t recognize them!
He approached the counter and asked to speak to the shop’s owner. The clerk went to the back of the store and returned with an elegant, gray-haired woman.
“How may I help you?” she asked.
The cowboy introduced himself, then asked, “How long have you owned this shop?”
“Oh, I inherited this business from my grandparents. This little shop has been in our family since it opened, over forty years ago,” she told him.
“I’m trying to track down a rare set of marbles,” he said. “The last record I can find of them is here in Amarillo, about thirty years ago. I heard they were given to a poor waitress. I’m wondering if she sold them.”
Elizabeth and McKenzie moved a little closer to the counter. They pretended to be looking at some jewelry, and the two adults paid no attention to them.
“Marbles? I don’t recall any unusual marbles. Every now and then we’ve bought little toys like that, but we sell them pretty quickly. Usually to a young mother who is in here shopping,” she told him.
“Oh, these marbles weren’t toys. I’m sure the woman wouldn’t have sold them cheaply. They were very valuable,” he told her.
The woman thought a moment, wrinkling her brow in concentration. “No, I’m sorry. I don’t recall anything like that.”
Mr. Jacobs looked disappointed. He tipped his hat to the woman, thanked her, and headed out the door.
The girls stared after him, mouths hanging open, when the clerk startled them. “Can I help you find something?”
Elizabeth and McKenzie began taking off their costumes and returning them to the proper places. “Oh, no thank you. We were just having a little fun. This is a great shop you have,” Elizabeth told her.
The bell jangled again as Mrs. Phillips walked through the door.
“Are you ready, girls?” she asked.
“Yes, ma’am,” they called, and left the store. They wanted to discuss the scene they’d just witnessed, but that conversation would have to wait.
Back at the motel, Elizabeth and McKenzie exchanged frustrated looks. They hadn’t found a moment of privacy since they were at the shop. First they had stopped at Dairy Queen for hamburgers. Then Mrs. Phillips had asked the girls to entertain Evan for a while.
They were about to meet Megan when the phone rang. “It’s for you, Elizabeth,” said Mr. Phillips. It was her mom.
“Hi, baby. Are you having fun?” Mrs. Anderson asked.
“Yes, ma’am. We’ve been busy today.”
“That’s good. Listen, I know Ruby is taking you to the bank, and then for ice cream. After that, why don’t you swing back by the hotel and pick up Evan? I’ve already talked to the Phillipses about this. You all can spend the evening over here so McKenzie’s parents can have a date.”
Elizabeth groaned inwardly, but said only, “Yes, ma’am.” Evan was a nice kid, but two little boys could put a real wrench in their sleuthing plans. After hanging up, she shared the news with McKenzie, who did groan. Loudly.
Mr. and Mrs. Phillips looked at the girls and chuckled.
With a wave, the two girls finally escaped to the restaurant. When the door shut behind them, they began their frantic whispers.
“Can you believe that man? Calling Megan’s grandmother a ‘poor waitress,’ like she was some charity case. And who does he think he is, anyway? It’s none of his business!” McKenzie said.
“Well, technically, she was a poor waitress. But we know the rest of the story, and he doesn’t. I wonder how he knows that much, though,” Elizabeth responded. The sun had disappeared behind some more gray clouds, and the storm threatened to return.
Rounding the corner, they found Megan and her mom waiting for them. Mrs. Smith was dressed in her maid’s uniform. Her hair was coming out of its clip, and she wore no makeup. Still, Elizabeth thought she looked more like a runway model than a maid.
“Hop in, everyone. The quicker we get to the bank, the quicker we can hit the Marble Slab,” said the woman, referring to the popular ice cream shop.
All three girls climbed into the backseat of the old sedan, and Ruby Smith laughed. “I feel like a chauffeur,” she told them.
On the way to the bank, McKenzie and Elizabeth whispered to Megan, telling her about the event in the thrift shop.
They were interrupted by Mrs. Smith. “Am I supposed to be hearing this?” she asked. “Because I can hear almost every word you are saying. Something about a tall cowboy in a girlie thrift store? That must have been a funny sight.”
The girls laughed nervously but stopped talking. They didn’t want Mrs. Smith to know about Mr. Jacobs. Not yet, anyway.
They pulled into the bank parking lot, slid out of the car, and went inside the old building. “You all wait here while I make my deposits,” Mrs. Smith told them, gesturing to a long bench. “After that, I have an appointment with Mr. Sanders, the bank’s vice president. Megan, you can come with me and tell him what you’ve heard.”
The girls took a seat and waited as Mrs. Smith approached the teller. A few minutes later, she joined the girls on the bench.
Before long, a balding man approached. “Hello, Ruby,” he said. “This is a lovely group you have with you.”
Ruby smiled and introduced the girls, and then she and Megan entered the office to the left of the bench. The door was pushed shut, but it bounced open just a crack.
Elizabeth and McKenzie scooted closer to the door, hoping to hear the conversation. They heard bits and pieces and knew Megan would fill them in on the details later. Still, they strained to catch the words being spoken.
Mrs. Smith’s voice was soft and sweet. They heard, “…my mother…bank account…curious…”
Then the banker’s voice, “Yes…did leave…lovely woman…still open…interest…”
They heard Mrs. Smith’s voice again, “Megan…rumors…safe-deposit box…”
Megan added something to the conversation, but the girls couldn’t make out the words. Didn’t she know to speak up when her friends were eavesdropping?
There was a shuffling of some papers, then a faint noise. Was he typing on a computer?
The banker’s voice came back. “No…record…safe-deposit…nothing…”
There was a scooting of chairs, and the two girls on the bench slid to their original positions. The door opened, and Mr. Sanders shook Mrs. Smith’s hand. “I’m sorry I couldn’t help you more,” he said. “Good day, ladies.”
Megan looked disappointed, and Mrs. Smith patted her on the back. “It would have been nice to have found those mysterious marbles. But we’ve done fine without them, haven’t we? We don’t need a hidden treasure. I have all the treasure I need in you, sweet girl.”
Megan smiled at her mother and gave her a hug. But Elizabeth knew this wasn’t the end of the search. The group headed out the door. The mystery would have to wait; it was time for ice cream.
Back at Elizabeth’s house, the girls shut the door to her bedroom. The young detectives were ready to talk seriously.
“Tell me again what happened at the thrift shop,” Megan said.
Elizabeth and McKenzie took turns telling the story, and Megan laughed out loud when she heard about the costumes. “I wish I had been there!” she said. “I can just see you two, all decked out in sunglasses and wigs. You must have looked ridiculous!”
“Actually, we looked pretty good,” said Elizabeth.
McKenzie giggled. “Um, Elizabeth, I hate to tell you this, but that black wig did not look good on you! You definitely can’t pull it off like Hannah Montana can. I think you need to stay a blond,” she said.
Elizabeth laughed. “Come to think of it, your freckles did look rather out of place with that yellow wig. And those tiny little sunglasses!”
“Well you looked like a demented movie star with those huge things you were wearing!”
All three girls were on the floor now, laughing at the silliness of it all.
Before they could get any further in the story, they heard a thud on Elizabeth’s door. Then another, and another. Elizabeth got up and opened her door, only to have a miniature car crash into her ankle. “Ouch!” she cried.
James and Evan sat on the floor at the end of the hallway, with Matchbox cars lined up in front of them. “Sorry, Beth. We’re racing,” said James.
Elizabeth sighed a heavy sigh. “Why can’t you do that in your bedroom?” she asked her brother.
“Because there’s not enough space,” he told her matter-of-factly. She stepped to his doorway and saw what he meant. Toys were scattered across every inch of the floor.
“You’d better clean up that mess before Mom sees,” she told him.
James looked crestfallen. “But that will take too long,” he said. “I want to race with Evan.”
Elizabeth felt a wave of compassion for her little brother. He really was a good kid, even if he was annoying at times. “I’ll tell you what. You and Evan pick up your toys, and then we’ll sit with you in the driveway so you can race out there.”
James looked at his sister as if she were his hero. He wasn’t allowed in the front yard without supervision, but he loved to race his cars up and down the long driveway.
Just then, a loud clap of thunder startled them all. James’s face fell, and he said, “We can’t. It’s raining.”
Sure enough, it looked like the heavens had opened up. Lightning flashed, rain poured in heavy sheets, and water gushed off the sidewalks and into the gutters.
Another loud crash of thunder was followed by a pop, and everything went black.
The girls squealed and huddled together.
James and Evan stayed seated at the end of the hallway. Through the dark, they heard Evan’s voice saying, “This is so cool!”
Then James said, “Hey, let’s race cars in the dark!”
A moment later, Elizabeth yelped in pain. Another flash of lightning revealed that a Hot Wheels car had crashed into her ankle. Again. “James, cut that out!”
“Sorry, Beth,” he said. She shut her door, leaving the boys in the black hallway.
The three girls gathered at the window to watch the show. Thunder clapped. A fierce wind forced the trees to sway into unnatural positions. Somewhere in the distance a car alarm went off. The whole scene was scary and fascinating.
Suddenly, a pair of headlights pulled into Megan’s driveway, behind her mom’s car. They shut off, and all was black again.
“I wonder who that could be,” Megan said.
They peered through the darkness, trying to catch a glimpse of the unknown guest. A flash of lightning revealed a tall dark figure in a cowboy hat, heading for Megan’s porch.