Read Online Confessions of a Teen Sleuth by Chelsea Cain - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Chelsea Cain
Ads: Link
Roosevelt was dead. Truman had removed some important
papers before Frank drove him to the White House.
"The reception is good enough to activate the sonic inter-ferer," Tom announced. He pulled a lever in the hovercraft. "That
should absorb the noise of the hydraulic jack." He manipulated several other controls, and the robot retrieved the jack from
its hollow body and began drilling into the lock on the safe's door. After several long moments, the door swung open. Tom
activated a penlight on one of the robot's arms, and we examined the contents in the safe on the grainy monitor. We could
see a metal lockbox, several bundles of Cuban pesos, and a stack of files. The top file was labeled "Hannah Gruen."
"That's it!" I exclaimed.
Tom directed the robot to pick up the file and insert it and the jack into its torso compartment. With steady motions, he
guided the machine back to the hallway, past a wall display of framed photographs of Tricia and Pat, around the corner to
the foyer, and back out the front door, just as Checkers, alert again to the intruder, came scrambling from his resting spot
at the base of the stairs.
We waited until we were all safely aboard the Sky Queen to examine the file. Inside was a Communist Party meeting log that
showed that a Miss Hannah Gruen had attended three party meetings in 1913. Affixed to the log with a paper clip was a smiling
photograph of Hannah Gruen and Dwight David Eisenhower at the 1915 Sam Houston Sweetheart's Dance & Rodeo.
Frank used the Sky Queen's radiotyper to send a coded message to the White House, informing the president of our success.
A few minutes later, the instrument picked up and decoded a response.
"What does it say?" demanded Bud.
Frank read the message aloud: " 'Good job, team. Leave the rest to me.'"
"What do you think he's going to do?" I asked Frank.
"They should lock Nixon up!" Tom suggested arrestingly.
Frank looked thoughtful. "If I know the president," he murmured, "he'll find a way to turn the tables on Nixon. It may take
years, but he'll find a way to make sure Nixon gets exactly what he deserves."
Tom, Bud, and Frank flew me home in the Sky Queen. Tom and Bud stayed below in the pilot's compartment, and Frank and I rode
in the astrodome.
"Back to River Heights," Frank declared.
"Yes," I replied.
"How is Ted?"
"Ned."
"Sorry."
"He's fine. He's a vice president now at R.H. Mutual."
"And your son?"
I reached up and smoothed a piece of Frank's dark hair into place underneath his jaunty army cap. "He looks just like his
father," I whispered. My voice caught and I turned away. "Sometimes it breaks my heart to look at him."
Frank's voice was small. "I ought to be getting back. The president needs me."
I gave him a brave smile. "It's what I love about you."
Tom poked his blond head into the astrodome. "I'm afraid the wind's too strong to land," he announced. "We'll have to lower
you down." I held Frank's gaze for a moment longer and then followed Tom down to the bay of the craft, where the young scientist
lowered me with a swaying magnetic cable into dark expanse of my own backyard.
I could see my father and Ned through the kitchen window as I approached the back door. Hannah Gruen would be home soon. My
own true aunt. (Eloise Drew, my supposed spinster aunt who lived in New York City, was a complete fabrication constructed
by Carolyn Keene. In fact my father was an only child.) I used to think that I had not lived enough. I had a few great summers
pursuing mysteries as a teenager, and I had been chasing them ever since. It was at that that moment, standing in our backyard
looking at my family behind the glass, that I finally accepted that those summers were over. One morning you wake up and realize
that the world has moved on. It was time to grow up. It was time to stop sleuthing and embrace my life as a mother and as
a wife. Perhaps, I told myself, embracing domesticity would prove to be my greatest
papers before Frank drove him to the White House.
"The reception is good enough to activate the sonic inter-ferer," Tom announced. He pulled a lever in the hovercraft. "That
should absorb the noise of the hydraulic jack." He manipulated several other controls, and the robot retrieved the jack from
its hollow body and began drilling into the lock on the safe's door. After several long moments, the door swung open. Tom
activated a penlight on one of the robot's arms, and we examined the contents in the safe on the grainy monitor. We could
see a metal lockbox, several bundles of Cuban pesos, and a stack of files. The top file was labeled "Hannah Gruen."
"That's it!" I exclaimed.
Tom directed the robot to pick up the file and insert it and the jack into its torso compartment. With steady motions, he
guided the machine back to the hallway, past a wall display of framed photographs of Tricia and Pat, around the corner to
the foyer, and back out the front door, just as Checkers, alert again to the intruder, came scrambling from his resting spot
at the base of the stairs.
We waited until we were all safely aboard the Sky Queen to examine the file. Inside was a Communist Party meeting log that
showed that a Miss Hannah Gruen had attended three party meetings in 1913. Affixed to the log with a paper clip was a smiling
photograph of Hannah Gruen and Dwight David Eisenhower at the 1915 Sam Houston Sweetheart's Dance & Rodeo.
Frank used the Sky Queen's radiotyper to send a coded message to the White House, informing the president of our success.
A few minutes later, the instrument picked up and decoded a response.
"What does it say?" demanded Bud.
Frank read the message aloud: " 'Good job, team. Leave the rest to me.'"
"What do you think he's going to do?" I asked Frank.
"They should lock Nixon up!" Tom suggested arrestingly.
Frank looked thoughtful. "If I know the president," he murmured, "he'll find a way to turn the tables on Nixon. It may take
years, but he'll find a way to make sure Nixon gets exactly what he deserves."
Tom, Bud, and Frank flew me home in the Sky Queen. Tom and Bud stayed below in the pilot's compartment, and Frank and I rode
in the astrodome.
"Back to River Heights," Frank declared.
"Yes," I replied.
"How is Ted?"
"Ned."
"Sorry."
"He's fine. He's a vice president now at R.H. Mutual."
"And your son?"
I reached up and smoothed a piece of Frank's dark hair into place underneath his jaunty army cap. "He looks just like his
father," I whispered. My voice caught and I turned away. "Sometimes it breaks my heart to look at him."
Frank's voice was small. "I ought to be getting back. The president needs me."
I gave him a brave smile. "It's what I love about you."
Tom poked his blond head into the astrodome. "I'm afraid the wind's too strong to land," he announced. "We'll have to lower
you down." I held Frank's gaze for a moment longer and then followed Tom down to the bay of the craft, where the young scientist
lowered me with a swaying magnetic cable into dark expanse of my own backyard.
I could see my father and Ned through the kitchen window as I approached the back door. Hannah Gruen would be home soon. My
own true aunt. (Eloise Drew, my supposed spinster aunt who lived in New York City, was a complete fabrication constructed
by Carolyn Keene. In fact my father was an only child.) I used to think that I had not lived enough. I had a few great summers
pursuing mysteries as a teenager, and I had been chasing them ever since. It was at that that moment, standing in our backyard
looking at my family behind the glass, that I finally accepted that those summers were over. One morning you wake up and realize
that the world has moved on. It was time to grow up. It was time to stop sleuthing and embrace my life as a mother and as
a wife. Perhaps, I told myself, embracing domesticity would prove to be my greatest