Mysteries & Detective Stories
A chill creeps up my back. I swear, when I walked into this shed half an hour ago, there were muddy footprints on the dock. They aren't there now.
"Do you want Mrs. Pringle gone forever, her reputation tarnished? She'd never get another job if she's charged with theft. She'll end up with no money, no house, stuffing old newspapers into her boots to keep her feet warm in the winter!" Robyn's voice rose. She sniffed.
I rolled my eyes. "Robyn, get a grip! No one's talking about a crime, here."
"How did you know? Maybe someone took that book and tried to sell it," Robyn retorted.
"And how would a person sell something like that, Robyn? A garage sale?" I shook my head.
Max put his hand on Sam's shoulder. "C'mon. You're not giving up already, are you?"
"Already?" said Sam. "I've tried everything! It's hopeless."
"You haven't tried everything. Have you talked to the clowns yet? You'd be a natural with them."
"Thanks a lot."
