The Bell Bandit Read Online Free Page B

caught on something or dragging something along behind her. Evan unclipped one snowshoe and then the other and flipped them off Jessie's feet.
    "The bell is gone, Evan! Gone!"
    "What do you mean? Grandma's bell?"
    "Yes! The New Year's Eve bell!"
    "It can't be gone. You must have climbed the wrong hill."
    "No, we didn't. The wooden post was there, just like always, but the bell is gone!"
    Evan shook his head. "That thing weighs—I don't know—a hundred pounds. There's no way someone could just walk off with it. And besides, who would want to take it?"
    "Who
wouldn't
want to take it?" Jessie asked, bouncing from one foot to the other. "It's an antique and it's famous—"
    "It's not famous, Jessie," said Evan, shaking his head. "Just 'cause it's in that book doesn't make it famous."
    "Well, it's worth two thousand five hundred dollars!"
    "Is not!"
    "I'll show you!" Jessie ran to the couch where she'd left
The Big Book of Bells
that morning and pulled out a letter that was tucked into the back cover of the book. She handed it to Evan, who read it slowly, not understanding all the words but getting the general idea. About five years ago, Grandma had had the bell appraised to find out how much it was worth, and Jessie was right: the letter said the bell was worth $2,500.
    "Wow," said Evan.
    Maxwell bobbed his head several times, rocking back and forth on his feet.
    "We've got to find it," said Jessie, pulling on Evan's arm. "New Year's Eve is in three days! If we don't ring the bell on New Year's Eve..." Jessie couldn't get the words out, and Evan knew what she was feeling. It was hard to imagine not ringing the bell on New Year's Eve. They had always done that, for as long as he could remember.
    Evan looked at the boy and then back at his sister. "Jessie...?" He half pointed at Maxwell, hoping his sister would get the hint, but as usual, she didn't. "Uh, my name's Evan," he said to the boy, sticking out his hand the way grownups did.
    "How do you do," said the boy, shaking Evan's hand. "My name's Maxwell. I'm smart!" Then he rocked forward on his left foot and shook his right hand in the air. Evan looked at him closely.
    "Maxwell lives in the yellow house. The one with the big rock out front," said Jessie. "He knows Grandma really well."
    "Yep," said Maxwell. "I come here all the time." Maxwell was rocking back and forth steadily now, snapping his right hand in the air with each forward motion. "We watch TV! And we do puzzles. And we feed the birds. And I'm smart! That's what Mrs. Joyce says. She says, 'Maxwell, you are smart!'"
    There was a moment's silence, and then Evan asked, "What grade are you in?"
    "Sixth grade," said Maxwell. "Hardy Middle School. Grade six."
    "Mom's home!" shouted Jessie, running for the front door. Evan had heard it, too—the old Subaru making its way up the long driveway. He hurried back into the kitchen. He wanted to get the trash barrel outside before his mom walked in.
    He was carrying it down the makeshift back steps he and Pete had rigged up, when Pete came around the house. "Your grandma's home, so I'm heading out for the day," said Pete. "We'll hang the dry wall tomorrow, then we'll start on the upstairs the next day. Sound good?"
    "Yeah, sure," said Evan. He wanted to sound casual about it, so Pete wouldn't think this was the first construction job he'd ever done, but he couldn't keep the eagerness out of his voice.
    "Okay, then. See you tomorrow." Pete plugged in his headphones and headed for his truck.
    Evan walked back into the kitchen and took one more look around. It was still definitely a disaster area, but they'd accomplished a lot: the wall was repaired, and the back door was framed and hung, and you could walk up and down the back steps if you were careful. Plus, it was a whole lot cleaner than it had been an hour ago. When Evan heard voices (mostly Jessie's) in the living room, he hurried in to say hello.
    His grandmother stood just inside the doorway, next to the coat