The Desert Thieves Read Online Free

after him.

3 A Suspect Arrives
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    Sprinting after the intruder, Joe caught up with him two campsites away. He grabbed his arm and pulled him to a stop, whirling the guy around to face him.
    â€œTake your hands off me!” the man exclaimed, struggling against Joe’s firm grip. “You’ve got no—”
    â€œWhat’s the deal?” Joe said. “Why were you spying on us like that?”
    â€œI wasn’t spying,” the man said. “I was taking some shots of that cactus by your motor home. Let go of my arm!”
    Realizing that other campers were watching curiously, Joe released the man but stayed poised for another sprint. Just then Frank caught up to them.“Who are you?” he demanded. “Why were you spying on us?”
    â€œI just told this other guy, I wasn’t spying,” the man insisted again. “My name is Raymond Perez. I’m a landscape painter. Perhaps you’ve heard of me?”
    â€œNo,” Frank said. “We haven’t.”
    Perez looked a bit wounded at that. “Well,” he went on, “I take pictures of objects and scenes I want to use as subjects for paintings. I was shooting that cactus when you startled me.”
    â€œWhy did you run?” Joe asked.
    â€œBecause of the tone in your voice when you shouted,” Perez said. “Wouldn’t you run, if someone yelled at you that way?”
    Joe smiled confidently and said, “I don’t think so.”
    â€œYou still haven’t said why you were listening to our conversation,” Frank said.
    â€œI told you, I was not listening,” Perez said, his voice rising angrily. “I was trying to take a picture. I’m shooting that plant at different times of the day, because the light changes and it looks slightly different each time. But now,” he added, waving his hand, “you’ve spoiled it. The light is different and I’ve lost my chance.”
    Joe glanced around at the sky. “I guess the color of the light is your business,” he said, “but next time, announce yourself.”
    Perez smiled and said, “You mean so you can stop talking about whatever’s such a secret?”
    â€œI thought you said you weren’t eavesdropping,” Joe said.
    â€œI wasn’t,” Perez replied, “but I did catch a few words. What was that you were saying about a case you want to solve? Are you guys detectives or something?”
    Grish was right about the tourists having big ears, Frank realized. “You must have heard us wrong,” he said, then tried to change the subject. “So, are you an expert on desert plants? Or do you just take pictures of them when the light is pink?”
    Perez grinned. “I get it,” he said. “You’re cleverly changing the subject so you don’t have to answer my question. That tells me you probably are detectives, in which case you must be working under cover and don’t want me to blow your cover.”
    A glance at his brother’s face told Frank that Joe didn’t know what to make of Perez either.
    â€œWho are you, anyway, since you don’t want to tell me whether you are detectives?” Perez inquired.
    â€œI’m Frank Hardy and this is my brother, Joe,” Frank said.
    â€œNice to meet you,” Perez said, shaking hands. “And to answer your earlier question, no, I’m not an expert on cactus or anything. I’m just an artist, lost in the desert. I want to do a painting of that cactus at your campsite and call it Nature Hangs In There. That plant has put up with so much, and it’s still hanging in there. You’d think by now somebodywould have run it over or kicked it accidentally or something.”
    Joe laughed and said, “I hope your paintings are better than your titles. How long have you been staying here?”
    â€œA couple of months, off and on,” Perez said. “The place gets a little