Read Online Wilma Tenderfoot and the Case of the Frozen Hearts by Emma Kennedy - Free Book Online Page B

she skated closer to the main gates she caught sight of a stodgy police officer puffing his way across the square. “Inspector Lemone!” cried Wilma but, just as she kicked down with her left skate, she felt a hand tightening around the back collar of her pinafore.
    â€œNo skating allowed on the plaza,” said a raspy voice. Wilma looked up into the face of an angry-looking man in uniform.
    â€œYou don’t understand,” said Wilma, trying to wriggle herself free. “I’ve got to get to the Museum. It’s the Katzin Stone and—”
    â€œNo skates! And the line for the Museum starts over there,” said the attendant, indicating a line of people snaking away from the entrance. “From there,” he went on, pointing at the end of the line, which was so far away Wilma couldn’t even see it, “your waiting time will be four hours.”
    â€œBut you don’t understand!” shouted Wilma. “I have to get in there now! I’m helping Theodore P. Goodman crack a very important case.”
    â€œYou? Help Theodore P. Goodman?” asked the attendant, looking down his nose at the young Lowsider. “I don’t think so. But even if you are, you’re not going anywhere with those skates on.”
    â€œAll right! All right!” said Wilma, holding her hands out. “I’ll take them off. But Mr. Goodman will hear about this, you know,” she said, giving the man one of her special stares. “You are preventing me from all manner of contemplations and deductions.” She unstrapped her skates.
    â€œThe end of the line is the other way,” said the man as Wilma set off toward the entrance gates.
    â€œI knew that,” said Wilma and, keeping one eye on the man, she turned and headed in the direction of the Avenue of the Cooperans, Pickle hard on her heels.

    As soon as Wilma reached the first sugarcane swizzle tree she stopped and ducked behind it, yanking Pickle alongside her. Pretending to chew its sugary bark, she peeped out from behind the gloopy trunk to see whether the attendant was still watching. But she was in luck: A group of opticians on a work outing had been standing in the wrong line for over an hour and were looking for someone to blame. They had the attendant surrounded and all of them were shaking their fists at him. One optician was so cross he knocked off the attendant’s cap, which set in motion a chain of events that could only be described as ugly. Wilma’s heart was beating fast. She had to get inside the Museum! “But how?” she wailed. “That line goes on forever!”
    Pickle nudged at her with his nose and made a snorting noise in the direction of a cart that had just pulled into the square. “Of course!” Wilma exclaimed. “It’s delivering a Tyrannosaurus rex skull! I read about it in Mrs. Waldock’s mid-morning paper! We can creep over, jump inside the skull, and get in that way! Pickle! You are brilliant!”
    Under normal circumstances Pickle would have felt a little embarrassed at the compliment, but even he had to agree that riding anywhere in a massive bone was probably the best idea he’d had in ages.

10
    â€œ C an’t make head or tail of it, Goodman,” said Captain Brock, who had been pacing at the far end of the gallery. “I saw the stone at the Receiver’s office. Stayed with it all the way. Get to the station, it’s vanished.”
    â€œIt must have been Jeremy Burling.” The Curator nodded, gripping the top of his cane. “But how did he do it? And more importantly, where is the stone?”
    â€œBurling swears blind he had nothing to do with it,” puffed Inspector Lemone. “We’ve searched his office and his home. Can’t find a thing. Only two other people were given passes into the vault: Captain Brock and Alan Katzin.”
    â€œThis is a disaster for the Museum, Mr. Goodman,” said the