The Man with the Red Bag Read Online Free Page B

with BUFFO printed in it. His was identical, except it said BLESSING .
    â€œSorry we missed all the excitement,” Buffo said to Charles Stavros. “What were the hounds of the Baskervilles after, anyway?”
    Charles Stavros shrugged, held the bag close against him, and headed back toward the bus.

CHAPTER 4
    I decided to make Geneva my partner, or actually my assistant. Even Sherlock Holmes had Watson. And two watchers might be better than one.
    As we were getting back on the bus I told her, “You said you thought I knew something about Charles Stavros. I don’t. I suspect. We could discuss it if you like. I’ll ask my grandma if she minds if you and I sit together for a while.” I knew Grandma would say “Fine,” and I was right. She believed Geneva was troubled, and she would think I might help her. “You can ask your dad if it’s okay,” I said.
    Geneva sniffed. “I don’t care if it’s okay with him or not. He’s left me plenty of times,” she said.
    We sat in one of the empty seats at the back.
    â€œOne good thing about a bus,” I said. “Stavros isn’t getting off until the bus stops. It’s easy to keep an eye on him.”
    â€œIs that our plan? To keep an eye on him? You mean because of the bag?”
    I nodded and took out my mystery notebook. “I’ve been writing down things about him in case we need them for evidence,” I told her.
    â€œWrite about the dogs,” Geneva ordered.
    I gave her a cold look. “I’m going to.” Maybe this wasn’t going to work. It wouldn’t if she turned out to be impossibly bossy. This was my mystery and she was just lucky I was sharing. “Here,” I said. “You can read.”
    She flipped through the pages. “You don’t have much,” she said.
    I gave her another look. “I’ll get more.”
    â€œWe,” she said. “We’ll get more.”
    Was she going to be a total affliction?
    I leaned toward her. “I thought he might have abomb in there. He definitely looks like someone who could be carrying a bomb.”
    Geneva’s eyes opened wide. “He does look exactly like a terrorist. I’ve never seen a real one, but I’ve seen pictures on TV.”
    â€œListen to this.” I told her what Millie had said about the photograph in the newspaper.
    â€œOh, wow!” Geneva breathed.
    â€œI bet he’s not even Greek,” I went on. “But I can’t figure out how he could have gotten a bomb past the security at the airport in New York. My grandma wasn’t even allowed to bring her knitting needles. She had to buy new ones in Salt Lake City.”
    â€œMaybe he bought a new bomb in Salt Lake City,” Geneva said.
    I caught my breath. “Hey! He was late, remember? What if he had an accomplice who brought it to him the night before? Or that morning?”
    Geneva looked smug. “That’s what I was thinking. Actually, that’s what I said. But wait!” She tugged at a tuft of her yellow hair. “If he has a bomb, he could blow us up anytime. Just ka-boom and we’d be all in pieces.”
    We stared at each other. I flashed back to the Twin Towers and 9/11, the terrible pictures with the smoke and the screaming, running people. A bomb in a bus wouldn’t kill thousands, like that. But it would kill us.
    â€œWhy would he want to?” I was mad at my voice for sounding so babyish. “We’re not important. Are we?”
    We sat back. I half heard Declan telling us that we were now in Idaho, and how Meriwether Lewis and William Clark explored the region, after crossing the Bitterroot Range, and about the fur-trading forts and the Nez Perce Indians. It was probably great stuff and the kind of thing my parents wanted me to learn about on this trip, but I had immediate, pressing problems to deal with, not ancient history.
    I was glad when he started on one of