secrets. “I don’t know.”
We rushed back to the museum entrance to show our find to the curator. I skidded to a stop on the tiles, and Colin ran straight into my back. His poor nose.
Mr. Finnigan wasn’t alone. Another man stood over his desk. The second man appeared younger than the curator but older than Amelie by at least a decade. He looked over-tanned and his poofy black hair gave him a couple extra inches of height. I couldn’t see the color of his eyes because he wore dark sunglasses even though he was inside.
Mr. Finnigan nodded at the man, agreeing with whatever he’d just said. Then he saw Colin and me approaching. “Did you find something?”
“Yeah,” Colin said, waving the paper.
Poofy-Haired Man peered down at us with a slight scowl. He removed his sunglasses, revealing narrowed brown eyes. “Who are you? What are you doing in this place? Why aren’t you outside tipping cows, or starting fires, or something equally destructive?” He shuddered.
Was he kidding?
I wondered.
No
.
He was a kid hater. Great.
Colin rolled his eyes at me as if to say,
Can you believe this guy?
I wanted to shoot back,
Who are you? Are you a middle school teacher or something? Shouldn’t you go give someone a detention?
But I didn’t say anything. I just gave him my best Bethany scowl.
Mr. Finnigan catapulted out of his desk chair and stumbled around the desk. “Dr. Anthony Girard, I’d like you to meet Colin and Andi. They’re doing research in the archives.” He laughed nervously.
“Really?” Dr. Girard demanded, his tone skeptical.
Mr. Finnigan blundered on as if the speed of his speech would make up for the other man’s rudeness. “Dr. Girard is a history professor at Mike Pike. I’m sure he knows your aunt, Andi.”
Dr. Girard’s voice was sour. “And who might that be?”
“Dr. Amelie Boggs,” I answered. I emphasized the “Dr.”
“Ah,” he said, as if that explained everything. “You’re one of the orphans.”
Mr. Finnigan shifted uncomfortably. “Dr. Girard, really. I don’t …”
Dr. Girard held up a hand, cutting off Mr. Finnigan mid-sentence. “I’m pleased to meet you both.” He didn’t sound at all pleased. After he straightened, his eyes took on an unpleasant, hard glint. “So what’s your wonderful find?”
Like I would tell you now
, I thought.
Colin opened his mouth. I elbowed him in the ribs, hard. Too bad I couldn’t do the same to Mr. Finnigan.
“They’re researching their family histories. Andi discovered that she knows very little about a relative in her genealogy.”
Dr. Girard raised an eyebrow. “Really? That’s fascinating.”
“Dr. Girard has a special interest in local history,” Mr. Finnigan explained. “He’s written several books on the subject and is one of the best patrons of the archives. The book he’s working on right now is about the history of this factory. Maybe he can help you with your own research, Andi.”
I squinted at Dr. Girard and said, “No thanks.” Then I told Mr. Finnigan that we had to go home.
Colin and I mounted our bikes and pedaled for home. The whole way I thought about Andora and tried to shake off the weird vibe I’d picked up from Dr. Girard.
CASE FILE NO. 9
Andora really existed. I couldn’t get that thought out of my mind. But what happened to her? Why doesn’t anyone know about her?
When Colin and I arrived back at my house, I told Amelie the good news. Accepting an Oreo she offered me, I asked, “Who is Dr. Girard? Colin and I just met him at the Killdeer Historical Society and Bottling Museum.”
She rolled her eyes. “Dr. Girard is one of the most pompous men I’ve ever met. Unfortunately, the university loves him because he’s published several books.”
Bethany walked into the living room carrying the box of silk flowers I’d dusted off in the attic.
My mouth fell open. “What are you doing?”
Amelie smiled. “While you and Colin were at theBottling Museum, Bethany has been
We rushed back to the museum entrance to show our find to the curator. I skidded to a stop on the tiles, and Colin ran straight into my back. His poor nose.
Mr. Finnigan wasn’t alone. Another man stood over his desk. The second man appeared younger than the curator but older than Amelie by at least a decade. He looked over-tanned and his poofy black hair gave him a couple extra inches of height. I couldn’t see the color of his eyes because he wore dark sunglasses even though he was inside.
Mr. Finnigan nodded at the man, agreeing with whatever he’d just said. Then he saw Colin and me approaching. “Did you find something?”
“Yeah,” Colin said, waving the paper.
Poofy-Haired Man peered down at us with a slight scowl. He removed his sunglasses, revealing narrowed brown eyes. “Who are you? What are you doing in this place? Why aren’t you outside tipping cows, or starting fires, or something equally destructive?” He shuddered.
Was he kidding?
I wondered.
No
.
He was a kid hater. Great.
Colin rolled his eyes at me as if to say,
Can you believe this guy?
I wanted to shoot back,
Who are you? Are you a middle school teacher or something? Shouldn’t you go give someone a detention?
But I didn’t say anything. I just gave him my best Bethany scowl.
Mr. Finnigan catapulted out of his desk chair and stumbled around the desk. “Dr. Anthony Girard, I’d like you to meet Colin and Andi. They’re doing research in the archives.” He laughed nervously.
“Really?” Dr. Girard demanded, his tone skeptical.
Mr. Finnigan blundered on as if the speed of his speech would make up for the other man’s rudeness. “Dr. Girard is a history professor at Mike Pike. I’m sure he knows your aunt, Andi.”
Dr. Girard’s voice was sour. “And who might that be?”
“Dr. Amelie Boggs,” I answered. I emphasized the “Dr.”
“Ah,” he said, as if that explained everything. “You’re one of the orphans.”
Mr. Finnigan shifted uncomfortably. “Dr. Girard, really. I don’t …”
Dr. Girard held up a hand, cutting off Mr. Finnigan mid-sentence. “I’m pleased to meet you both.” He didn’t sound at all pleased. After he straightened, his eyes took on an unpleasant, hard glint. “So what’s your wonderful find?”
Like I would tell you now
, I thought.
Colin opened his mouth. I elbowed him in the ribs, hard. Too bad I couldn’t do the same to Mr. Finnigan.
“They’re researching their family histories. Andi discovered that she knows very little about a relative in her genealogy.”
Dr. Girard raised an eyebrow. “Really? That’s fascinating.”
“Dr. Girard has a special interest in local history,” Mr. Finnigan explained. “He’s written several books on the subject and is one of the best patrons of the archives. The book he’s working on right now is about the history of this factory. Maybe he can help you with your own research, Andi.”
I squinted at Dr. Girard and said, “No thanks.” Then I told Mr. Finnigan that we had to go home.
Colin and I mounted our bikes and pedaled for home. The whole way I thought about Andora and tried to shake off the weird vibe I’d picked up from Dr. Girard.
CASE FILE NO. 9
Andora really existed. I couldn’t get that thought out of my mind. But what happened to her? Why doesn’t anyone know about her?
When Colin and I arrived back at my house, I told Amelie the good news. Accepting an Oreo she offered me, I asked, “Who is Dr. Girard? Colin and I just met him at the Killdeer Historical Society and Bottling Museum.”
She rolled her eyes. “Dr. Girard is one of the most pompous men I’ve ever met. Unfortunately, the university loves him because he’s published several books.”
Bethany walked into the living room carrying the box of silk flowers I’d dusted off in the attic.
My mouth fell open. “What are you doing?”
Amelie smiled. “While you and Colin were at theBottling Museum, Bethany has been
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