“What’s going on?” Salk asked Bobby. “You said there’s been a burglary? Dash, you okay?”
I nodded. “We were having an auction—”
“Dash is happy to help,” my mom said. And then she seized Salk’s hand and started pumping it. “Patricia Lockley.”
“Jonny Dane,” my dad said, taking over with Salk when my mom switched to Winegar. “I think everything’s under control.”
“Dash isn’t happy to help,” I said. “In fact, Dash isn’t particularly happy in general right now. Bobby’s right—we need to let the deputies work—”
“Let me introduce you to Mrs. Shufflebottom,” my mom said over me, taking Salk by the elbow and willfully ignoring the fact that Salk had known Mrs. Shufflebottom for almost as long as he’d been alive. “She discovered the theft,” my mom continued. “Why don’t you two separate the witnesses?”
You twoapparently did not mean me and Bobby—my dad nodded to Winegar, and to my surprise, Winegar shrugged and started toward the living room.
“Am I asleep?” I asked. “Is this a nightmare?”
“Tell me, Deputy Salkanovic,” my mom was saying as they moved down the hall, “did you notice any suspicious persons fleeing the scene when you arrived?”
Salk glanced back at us. Bobby’s face was stone. I offered a helpless shrug. Turning back to my mom, he said, “No, ma’am.”
“Very well. First thing, we should assess the scene to ensure officer safety, don’t you think? You’ll need to make initial observations.”
“Uh, right.”
“Do you want to write this down? Never mind. Just tell me, and I’ll remember.”
Salk threw another bewildered look back. This time, I put my hand over my eyes so I wouldn’t have to see.
“Well,” he said, “I see a lot of people having a party that got interrupted. And Mrs. Shufflebottom is pretty upset.”
“Yes, but what do youhear? What do yousmell?”
“Cake?” Salk said, but it was more of a question. “But that’s kind of normal. Sometimes when Dash comes to the station, he smells like he just walked out of The Cakery, and he’s got this look in his eyes. It’s nice, actually. We take bets—”
“Cake!” my mom’s shout made Salk jump. “Exactly!”
“I can’t watch this,” I told Bobby. “Please shoot me.”
But listening to my dad and Winegar in the other room wasn’t any better. My dad’s favorite phrase seemed to be “Let’s see some ID.” Delivered loudly.
Winegar must have been busy trying to keep my dad in check because one by one, the Last Picks slipped out of the living room and made their way down toward us.
“What’s going on?” Fox asked. “Did they find the book?”
I shook my head.
“Your dad’s face is super red,” Millie told me. “He’s having a LOT of fun.”
Keme nodded agreement.
“Are you all right, Dash?” Indira asked.
“Uh—” I risked a look at Bobby. To my relief, most of the annoyance had melted out of his expression, and now it seemed set somewhere between rueful and chagrined. He caught my eye and, with a little roll of his eyes, took my hand. “Fine, I guess,” I said. “I mean, it was kind of a shock. But everybody seems okay. Physically, I mean.” I frowned. “It’s hard to believe someone would want that book.”
“It’s worth a lot of money if you believe those two drips,” Fox said.
“They weren’t drips,” Millie said. “Colleen was nice. She said I should be in THE THE-A-TRE!” In addition to the volume, she added a little what-Americans-think-English-people-sound-like accent to the final two words. And then she giggled.
“She said you were playing to the back row,” Fox murmured.
