Riley Mack and the Other Known Troublemakers by Chris Grabenstein Page B

on the right.”
    Riley nodded. Over at Grandma’s, he saw a man hold up an antique glass bowl to examine it. The old woman slugged him in the arm. This, of course, startled the man, who almost fumbled the bowl but caught it before it crashed.
    â€œYou break it, you buy it!” snarled the old woman, right before she spit out some brown, stringy saliva.
    â€œHow much?” the man asked when he’d regained his balance.
    â€œIf you have to ask”—another chocolaty spit—“you can’t afford it.”
    Gross. She was chewing tobacco.
    â€œI’ll give you ten bucks for it.”
    â€œTen bucks?” She snatched the bowl out of the man’shands. “Beat it, you piker. I sell serious merchandise to serious collectors. You want something for ten bucks, go buy yourself a loaf of banana bread.”
    â€œCome on,” said Riley. “We need to take a closer look at that table filled with stolen loot.”
    â€œIt’s all there, man!” said Jamal. “Everything on the list. The iPods, Rodman John’s robot, Sarah Clare’s kickboard scooter.”
    â€œI’m interested in the jewelry.”
    â€œThat’s back there, too. Swatch watches, that ten-karat gold cupcake necklace.”
    â€œI’m mostly interested in the diamonds.”
    â€œHuh?”
    â€œIn the picture you sent, I saw what looked like a dog collar.”
    â€œNah. I don’t think Gavin Brown stole a fifth grader’s dog collar.”
    â€œThis one is covered with pink bling.”
    Riley and Jamal entered the tents.
    â€œDon’t touch anything, you rug rats,” snapped the grumpy old woman. “Where the blazes are your parents?”
    â€œBusy,” said Riley, pulling a fifty-dollar bill out of his pocket, flipping it up between his first two fingers. “I’m looking to buy my dog something special for his birthday. Got any dog collars? Maybe something, oh, I don’t know—sparkly?”
    â€œYou’re in luck, Red,” said the granny, with another syrupy spit. “Something like that just came in. Check it out. On the back table, there.”
    â€œThanks. Come on, Jimmy.”
    Riley led the way. Jamal followed.
    â€œWhy you callin’ me Jimmy?” he whispered. “My name’s Jamal….”
    â€œShhh. The less she knows about who we really are, the better.”
    â€œWhere’d you get that fifty-dollar bill, man?”
    â€œMy grandparents. Two Christmases ago.”
    â€œAnd you haven’t spent it yet?”
    â€œNope. It’s my ‘flash cash.’ Comes in handy.”
    â€œSo how come she called you Red?”
    Riley jabbed a quick thumb up at his hair.
    â€œThat ain’t red, man. That’s orange. Maybe auburn or tawny chestnut. You know what those words mean?”
    â€œYeah. Red.”
    They reached the table.
    â€œSee? It’s all there. What are you gonna do, Riley Mack?”
    Riley didn’t answer right away. He picked up the pink “diamond” doggy collar and tugged a copy of the Lost Dog flyer out of his jeans.
    â€œNow what’re you doing?”
    â€œMaking sure.”
    â€œOf what?”
    â€œThat Gavin Brown has branched out.” Yep. The collar on the table was the collar in the photo. “Seems he’s not just stealing merchandise from fifth graders these days. He’s snatching dogs from kids in kindergarten, too.”
    â€œHey!” shouted the old lady. “Don’t play with that. You break it, you bought it.”
    Riley smiled. He was ready to go back and have a few choice words with the yam-nosed old hag. Ask her who her supplier was. See if the name Gavin Brown rang a bell.
    He took one step forward.
    Froze.
    Chief Brown strode into the tent. He hugged the old woman and kissed her on her wrinkled cheek.
    â€œGood morning, Mom,” said the chief. “How’s business?”

14
    RILEY SAID SO LONG TO