man said, a little embarrassed. “Our pal Al isn’t employed at the Register after all. Good work! I should have looked into that myself days ago. It seems that while I’ve been so busy on this gymnastics story, a real mystery has been unfolding.”
Jessie breathed a sigh of relief. Lucas was okay. “The competition people would probably have kept Al out if they saw this unidentified guy taking pictures of Katya.”
“It’s not that hard to get a press pass,” Lucas said. “Especially if he’s worked for a paper somewhere else. Nobody questions a photographer with good credentials.”
“So what do we do now?” Violet wanted to know.
“Unfortunately, I’ve got to get back to that event I’m covering,” Lucas said, running his hand through his light hair. “I think you kids should make sure Al doesn’t do anything to upset Katya. And I’d like to hear more about that gold box you mentioned. I’ll see you later.”
He reluctantly hurried off once more.
“I think Lucas is okay,” said Jessie. “It looks like we’d better get moving. The teams in Katya’s class are heading for the balance beam.”
Sure enough, all the junior girls from various countries were settling in lines near the balance beam. Mrs. Patterson, score sheet under her arm, redid her daughter Denise’s hair, adding a fresh red ribbon.
Denise smiled at Katya and gave her the thumbs-up sign. Katya returned the signal.
“They’re wishing each other good luck,” Henry observed. “It’s nice they’re friends even though they are on opposite teams. I can’t believe Katya is mixed up in anything mysterious. She’s just so nice.”
“I know,” Jessie agreed.
Just then Mrs. Patterson said something to her daughter. Reluctantly, Denise faced forward, so she couldn’t see Katya.
“That woman acts like she’s running this competition,” Violet remarked. “How could it hurt Denise’s chances to smile at Katya?”
“That’s the way some mothers are, Katya told us,” Henry reminded them. “They take sports more seriously than their kids.”
“I think they are starting,” Violet said, noticing the coach lining up the first team to compete. “Let’s go over.”
As the Aldens left the concession area, they found themselves mingling with reporters, photographers, and other people moving toward the balance beam area. The difficult beam event always drew a large crowd.
Someone bumped into Benny, hard. He went down on one knee.
Henry was at his brother’s side instantly. “Are you all right, Benny?”
“I’m fine,” Benny said, staring at the floor. Big shoes that needed polishing were right in front of him.
A voice growled, “Look what you did!”
This time the voice belonged to Al Stockton. Now he was down on his knees, too, scooping scattered rolls of film and special lenses back into his camera bag.
“You made me drop my bag!” he complained. “If any of these lenses are cracked—”
“I’m sorry,” Benny said. “But you ran into me.” He tried to help by picking up loose photos that had slid from a side pocket.
“Leave those alone!” Al lunged for a sheaf of pictures in Benny’s hand.
“Take it easy,” Henry said, coming to his brother’s defense. “He’s only trying to help.”
“You kids are always getting in my way!” Al accused. “Now give me those pictures.”
Benny gave the man his pictures. But two slipped from the hastily gathered stack. They landed faceup on the floor.
Benny stared.
One picture showed a huge, beautiful mansion with a circular driveway in front.
The second picture was an indoor shot of a fancy living room. A vase of flowers stood on a table. Above the table was a portrait of a young girl. The girl wore a fancy-looking red dress. Her blond hair curled on her shoulders.
The girl looked exactly like Katya Ludskaya!
Al quickly snatched the pictures and stuffed them in his camera bag. “Next time,” he warned, “stay out of my way!”
Then he hurried
John B. Garvey, Mary Lou Widmer
Liesel Schwarz
Elise Marion
C. Alexander London
Abhilash Gaur
Shirley Walker
Connie Brockway
Black Inc.
Al Sharpton