The Case of the Missing Mascot (A Sherlock Shakespeare Mystery Book 1) Read Online Free Page B
Author: Sydney Katt
it up with my thumb whenever I had to show my drivers license.
Whatever.
I opened the tablet cover and used his password to unlock it, briefly glancing over my shoulder to make sure no one was there. I knew I was supposed to be alone in the house, but it felt as though someone were watching me. Weird.
As usual, it opened straight to his favorite social media site. If people knew how nerdy he was about organization, he wouldn't have more than four thousand friends on here.
How did he have one hundred times more friends than I did?
Shoving that thought out of my head, I navigated my way to his lists of friends at other schools. As expected, he was friends with half the football players at the school we were supposed to play on Friday night. I clicked through at least ten different profiles before I saw anything that piqued my interest.
It looked like a few of the guys were having some kind of barely-coded conversation. I couldn't tell exactly what they were trying—and failing—to be so nonchalant about, but I did know they were meeting at a coffee shop late tonight for something. If I'd just stolen a live pig, I'd probably be looking to pawn it off on someone else too.
I quickly googled the coffee shop's address and entered it into my phone for directions. It wasn't a great part of town. Didn't matter. I'd still be there.
Sherlock I'm-never-telling-my-middle-name Shakespeare was officially on the case.
CHAPTER FOUR
Even though it was out of the norm for me, my parents didn't even glance up from the books they were reading when I told them I was going out. Most parents probably would've wondered where their teenage daughter suddenly needed to be on a Sunday night. Not mine. Growing up, there were only three things they didn't believe in: bedtimes, curfews and any book written in the current century.
Since it was a Sunday night, I didn't hit any traffic on the way to the coffee shop. I got there way too early, so I sat at a table against the wall where I'd be able to see the door and most of the other tables. As long as they didn't plan to discuss their dirty deeds at the one table I couldn't see, my little stakeout would go smoothly.
After sitting around for about a half hour, I started to wish I'd thought to bring my economics book with me. It would've been nice to have some kind of a distraction other than fiddling with my keys while I sipped hot chocolate. Actually, I was starting to feel a little conspicuous, paranoid even. There weren't many people in the coffee shop as it was, so sitting in the corner with a hoodie and hot chocolate as though it wasn't still eighty degrees outside might stand out. I was considering taking my hoodie out to the car when the most obnoxious sound I'd ever heard erupted from my phone.
Seriously? Tom had nothing to say to me over the last forty-eight hours and now he wanted to talk. Ignore.
It figured that he'd wait until now to call. He knew that this was about the time I normally considered bedtime. Seemed just like him to wait until I was exhausted and half asleep so that he'd have the best chance of getting me to believe whatever lie he thought he'd feed me.
My phone rang again. Loudly. I really hadn't thought through the ringtone choice earlier.
Ignore.
I could feel eyes on me, watching me, but no one was looking in my direction when I'd glance up. I shook it off and pulled my hoodie more tightly around me. They must have the AC cranked to the max in here because I was freezing.
A moment later there was a typewriter sound from my phone as a group of high school guys walked in and parked it at a table not too far from me. I glanced down at the text. Super. Now he was telling me to stop being such a bitch and take his calls instead of sending him to voicemail. My reply to him was simple and more than he deserved.
No.
I hadn't figured they'd have the pig with them, but I hadn't really thought about how this stakeout was supposed to hit pay dirt. See, this was why I gave
Whatever.
I opened the tablet cover and used his password to unlock it, briefly glancing over my shoulder to make sure no one was there. I knew I was supposed to be alone in the house, but it felt as though someone were watching me. Weird.
As usual, it opened straight to his favorite social media site. If people knew how nerdy he was about organization, he wouldn't have more than four thousand friends on here.
How did he have one hundred times more friends than I did?
Shoving that thought out of my head, I navigated my way to his lists of friends at other schools. As expected, he was friends with half the football players at the school we were supposed to play on Friday night. I clicked through at least ten different profiles before I saw anything that piqued my interest.
It looked like a few of the guys were having some kind of barely-coded conversation. I couldn't tell exactly what they were trying—and failing—to be so nonchalant about, but I did know they were meeting at a coffee shop late tonight for something. If I'd just stolen a live pig, I'd probably be looking to pawn it off on someone else too.
I quickly googled the coffee shop's address and entered it into my phone for directions. It wasn't a great part of town. Didn't matter. I'd still be there.
Sherlock I'm-never-telling-my-middle-name Shakespeare was officially on the case.
CHAPTER FOUR
Even though it was out of the norm for me, my parents didn't even glance up from the books they were reading when I told them I was going out. Most parents probably would've wondered where their teenage daughter suddenly needed to be on a Sunday night. Not mine. Growing up, there were only three things they didn't believe in: bedtimes, curfews and any book written in the current century.
Since it was a Sunday night, I didn't hit any traffic on the way to the coffee shop. I got there way too early, so I sat at a table against the wall where I'd be able to see the door and most of the other tables. As long as they didn't plan to discuss their dirty deeds at the one table I couldn't see, my little stakeout would go smoothly.
After sitting around for about a half hour, I started to wish I'd thought to bring my economics book with me. It would've been nice to have some kind of a distraction other than fiddling with my keys while I sipped hot chocolate. Actually, I was starting to feel a little conspicuous, paranoid even. There weren't many people in the coffee shop as it was, so sitting in the corner with a hoodie and hot chocolate as though it wasn't still eighty degrees outside might stand out. I was considering taking my hoodie out to the car when the most obnoxious sound I'd ever heard erupted from my phone.
Seriously? Tom had nothing to say to me over the last forty-eight hours and now he wanted to talk. Ignore.
It figured that he'd wait until now to call. He knew that this was about the time I normally considered bedtime. Seemed just like him to wait until I was exhausted and half asleep so that he'd have the best chance of getting me to believe whatever lie he thought he'd feed me.
My phone rang again. Loudly. I really hadn't thought through the ringtone choice earlier.
Ignore.
I could feel eyes on me, watching me, but no one was looking in my direction when I'd glance up. I shook it off and pulled my hoodie more tightly around me. They must have the AC cranked to the max in here because I was freezing.
A moment later there was a typewriter sound from my phone as a group of high school guys walked in and parked it at a table not too far from me. I glanced down at the text. Super. Now he was telling me to stop being such a bitch and take his calls instead of sending him to voicemail. My reply to him was simple and more than he deserved.
No.
I hadn't figured they'd have the pig with them, but I hadn't really thought about how this stakeout was supposed to hit pay dirt. See, this was why I gave
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