The Mardi Gras Chase (True Girls Book 1) Read online

  Kate leaned forward and touched her toes.

  “I was lucky to get out of there,” she said, her voice muffled from speaking into her knees. “I thought Mom would rope me into cleaning up the mess, but she finally made the boys clean up after themselves. She even made Matt join in.”

  “Why Matt?” asked Faye. “I thought it was the littles.”

  “Matt put them up to it. He always does.” Kate sat straight up again. “So, I do not want to go home for a while. What should we do today instead?”

  “I’m glad you asked,” said Melanie. “I’ve got a project for us.”

  Faye smiled. “She’s been waiting for you to dish.”

  “Ok,” said Kate. “What’s up?”

  Melanie began by telling them about her research of the previous night. When she finished, Faye frowned.

  “So you’re saying that more than one parade has got these backwards letters? And what does that mean?” asked Faye.

  “I don’t know, exactly,” said Melanie. “But I don’t think it can be by accident. Remember last night when I said it might be a secret message? I’ve been thinking about it all night – what if it’s a code? A code across parades?” She pulled out her phone. “R, C, E, N, R, A, P,” she read again. “Makes no sense right? But, now we know there are other parades with these strange letters. So it doesn’t make sense yet, but that’s because we only have some of the clues.”

  “And you want us to…” said Kate.

  “Find the rest of the letters and solve the code,” said Melanie.

  “Obviously,” said Faye.

  “Kind of sounds like a lot of work,” said Kate.

  “And a lot of parades,” said Faye. She looked at Melanie. “Are you really suggesting we go to every single parade? There are tons left, and you hate them.”

  “I don’t hate them.”

  “Come on, Mel,” said Kate. “We know you do.”

  “Anyway,” said Melanie, “I’m hoping it won’t come to that. I’ve been thinking about how to go about this. I think we need to figure out why the code has been in some parades and not others. If we can do that, we might be able to tell which future parades we need to watch.”

  “I guess let’s do it,” said Kate after a pause. “I’m up for anything. Besides, it’s got to be better than scraping oatmeal from the walls.”

  Melanie smiled. “Faye?”

  “Well, it is kind of a busy week coming up. I’ve got to do well on our math test.” She looked at the expression on Melanie’s face and laughed. “But of course I’m in.”

  “Ok, good,” said Melanie. “You scared me for a sec, Faye, but I knew I could count on you guys. I really think we’re on to something.”

  “So, let’s get started,” said Faye, ever the organizer of the group. “Which other parades did you say the code has already been in?”

  “Aztecs,” said Melanie.

  “And now the Centaurs, too,” said Faye.

  The girls opened Faye’s laptop and pulled up what parade pictures they could find. They spent the next hour trying to find a connection between the two parades.

  “Well, they both follow the same route,” said Kate.

  “So do all the parades,” said Melanie.

  Minutes later, Faye remarked, “They’re both at night?”

  “Good one,” said Kate, and Melanie nodded. She wrote down on a sheet of paper: “Nighttime.”

  “They include marching bands?” said Kate.

  “Maybe,” said Melanie. She wrote it down.

  After another fifteen minutes of this, Faye sighed and pushed the computer away. “This is not working. We have no idea what else they have in common. The themes aren’t connected. We know they probably have different people in each group, unless we’re looking for one random person who happens to be in both parades, and that’s going to be tough to find.”

  Melanie and Kate nodded.

  “Plus, all the things they have in common – every other parade has it, too. Route, bands, float signs, horseback riders, whatever. There doesn’t seem to be anything that sets these two apart.”

  “Well, it was fun, folks,” said Kate, lowering to the floor. She lay down with her feet propped up on the wall. Faye sat down beside her and began absently chewing a nail.

  Melanie pulled the laptop toward her. “I’m not giving up yet.” She clicked through pictures while Kate flexed her feet back and forth in the air.

  Kate watched Faye continue to gnaw on her nail. “That’s such a gross habit, Faye.”

  “Sorry.” Faye pushed her hand by her side. “It helps me think.”

  “I think you’re going to need more than nail-chewing to figure this one out.”

  “Guys,” said Melanie, “take a look at these pictures.”

  Faye crawled over while Kate flipped onto her stomach. They both peered over Melanie’s shoulder.

  “What about them?” asked Kate.

  “These are some floats from last night. And here,” she clicked, “are some from the Aztecs. Do you see any similarities?”

  “Um, no,” Kate said.

  “Compare it to one of the parades without weird letters.” Melanie pulled up new pictures.

  “You know,” Faye said, “those floats do seem a little different.”

  “Yeah,” said Kate, “they’re kind of… boxy. Not as fancy.”

  “Exactly,” said Melanie, switching back to pictures of the Aztecs and Centaurs parades. “In the parades with backwards letters, the floats are higher, and – oh, I don’t know the right word.”

  “Poufy,” supplied Faye.

  “Yes!” said Melanie. “They’re poufy. Curvy. They don’t exactly look the same, of course, but they’re similar.”

  “So what does that mean?” asked Kate finally.

  “Maybe,” said Melanie slowly, “we’re dealing with the same float designer.”

  “Two parades…” said Kate.

  “But one designer?” said Faye.

  “Could be,” said Melanie, her eyes shining. “So, the question is, who’s our mystery designer?

  Chapter 3

  That evening, Melanie sat down to dinner with her family. She, Faye, and Kate had spent the afternoon searching online for information on float designers, to no avail. Finally, they agreed to pump their families for information that evening.

  “Mmm,” said Melanie as her father set a plate of chicken and dumplings before her. “Smells good.”

  “Thanks, sweetie,” said Mr. Smythurst. He had a kind face and messy brown hair.

  “Here you go, Lacey.” He set a My Little Pony plate littered with dumplings in front of the girl. “Use your fork, ok?”

  Lacey nodded, and quickly hid the finger she’d dipped into the sauce. Melanie sighed. She knew it was only a matter of time before she found herself wearing Lacey’s chicken and dumplings.

  Everyone said the blessing and began to eat. Melanie considered the best way to approach the subject of the Mardi Gras parades while Lacey launched into a long explanation of a book she’d read at school.

  “But the whole time, Princess Mia was hiding at the ball,” Lacey finished with giggles. “That was really funny. I wish I was Mia.” She turned to Melanie. “Call me Mia, ok?” she asked. “No!” She held up her hands. “Call me Princess.”

  “Whatever, Princess,” said Melanie, while her dad winked at her over Lacey’s head.

  “So, Mel,” said Mrs. Smythurst, “what did you girls do today?”

  Melanie paused, planning her words carefully. “Well, we looked at some pictures of last night’s parade.”

  “Oh, yes?” said her dad. “From what your mother told me, I’d have thought you got enough of that at the parade itself.”

  Melanie frowned. Maybe she shouldn’t have been quite so open about her Mardi Gras fatigue last night. It would certainly make today’s interrogation a little easier.

  “No,” Melanie finally said. “Well, sure, the parade was ok, I guess. It’s just that this year, for
the first time, I really noticed the floats themselves. Like, how they were made. They’re actually really artistic.”

  Her mother nodded. “You’re right, dear. It’s hard to see them when they’re moving so quickly in a parade, but they really are works of art.” She smiled at Mr. Smythurst. “I remember how we used to love going to float inspection each year.”

  “Float inspection? What’s that?” asked Melanie.

  “Well, you won’t remember this, Mel-Bel,” said her father, “but back when I was in the Aztecs, every year they’d have a sort of family day, when everyone could come out to the float barn and see all the floats up close before the parade night.”

  “You were in Aztecs?” said Melanie in surprise.

  “Sure,” said her dad. “You knew that.”

  “Did not,” said Melanie.

  “Well, I guess you were pretty little at the time.”

  “Say, Dad, do you remember who designed your floats?” Melanie noticed her parents looking at her with perplexed faces. “I mean, I’m interested. They were really gorgeous last night.”

  “Sorry, hon, I don’t remember,” said Mr. Smythurst. “I wasn’t heavily involved in the organization. We mainly showed up for parades and parties. Plus, it’s been quite a while. Even if I remembered, chances are, it’s someone else now.”

  He got up from the table to get seconds, and Melanie slumped in her chair.

  “Shouldn’t be too hard to find out, though,” he continued, sitting down. Melanie sat up again. “There are really only a few people in town who do it.”

  “You mean, one float designer might work in more than one parade?” Melanie asked, trying to hide her excitement.

  “Oh, sure,” said Mr. Smythurst. “In fact, they’re bound to.”

  “Lacey!” exclaimed Mrs. Smythurst, just as Melanie felt something wet slide down her arm. She looked down. Yep – a dumpling.

  “Come on, sweet girl,” said her mother, removing Lacey from the table. “Let’s clean you up.” She tossed a dishtowel to Melanie on her way out. “Sorry, hon. World’s best big sister!”

  “Yeah, yeah,” said Melanie.

  After dinner, Melanie texted Faye and Kate with news from the evening’s dinner conversation.

  Dad says one designer will work on more than one parade. Doesn’t know who though.

  Moments later, she received a response from Faye. My parents either. Told me to look in the yellow pages. They’re so old!

  After a few minutes, Kate joined in.

  Parents are out for the night. I’ll hit them up tomorrow.

  At least we’ve got somewhere to start, texted Melanie. Meet tomorrow @1. Faye’s?

  Faye’s! texted Kate.

  Yay! sent Faye.

  The next morning, Melanie filed into church with her family. She searched out Kate as she always did to wave hello. The two families had attended the same church for years.

  Melanie spotted Kate sitting a few pews behind them. Kate and her brother Matt were thumb-wrestling while their parents were busy corralling the younger brothers. Melanie waved as unobtrusively as possible to get Kate’s attention.

  Matt had just defeated Kate and was wiggling in what Melanie assumed was his victory dance, albeit one constrained by being in a church pew. Kate crossed her arms and glared at him. Melanie waved her hand again to get their attention. Matt noticed her first. He grinned when he caught her eye and waved. Then he nudged Kate and nodded toward Melanie.

  When Kate saw Melanie, all the disappointment at losing the game vanished from her face. She actually looked… excited?

  She mouthed something quickly to Melanie.

  “What?” Melanie mouthed back silently. Slowly, Kate repeated herself, and Melanie watched carefully to catch the meaning.

  “I’ve. Got. A. Name.”

  Melanie’s eyes widened. Could she mean the identity of the float designer?

  Just then the opening song started up, and Melanie was forced to face the front. She fidgeted all through the service. If Kate really had the name of the float designer, they could get straight to work.

  When the deacon finally announced that Mass was ended, Melanie said, “Thanks be to God,” as fervently as she ever had and quickly led the way out of the pew. She threaded through the crowd and found Kate.

  “Tell me everything!”

  “All right,” said Kate. “His name is Mr. Simmington, Josh Simmington, I think, and apparently he’s ancient. He’s been building floats for the Centaurs for a long time.”

  “Awesome! How did you find out?”

  “He’s one of my mom’s clients,” said Kate. “I think she did his will, though she couldn’t come right out and say it. Attorney privilege and all. Still, small world, right?”

  “Small town, anyway,” said Melanie.

  “Kate,” said Matt, interrupting. “Mom said to come on.” He grinned at Melanie. “Hi, Mel. You guys must have something exciting going on. Katie’s been jumping up and down all morning.”

  “Have not,” said Kate.

  Melanie smiled at Matt. “Nothing exciting here.”

  “Yeah, I bet.”

  “I’d better run,” said Kate. “I’ll see you at Faye’s!”

  “What was your hurry?” asked her mother as Melanie rejoined her family.

  “Nothing,” said Melanie. “Just wanted to say hi to Kate.” They walked to the parking lot.

  “Want to stop for doughnuts on the way home?” asked Mr. Smythurst, unlocking the family van.

  “Dad, I need to get home,” said Melanie, before thinking better of it. Doughnuts were doughnuts, after all. “Well, ok, maybe a quick stop won’t hurt.”

  “Yippee!” shouted Lacey from her car seat.

  Half an hour later, Melanie licked sugar off her fingers as she walked down to Faye’s.

  On the way, Kate ran out of her house and joined Melanie on the sidewalk. “I texted Faye after Mass, so she’s up to date.”

  “Good work,” said Melanie. “I can’t believe how quickly you found that name. You should be a detective.”

  “I don’t know. It’s kind of a lot of work.” She massaged one of her hands as they approached Faye’s porch. “Man, I think Matt sprained my thumb.”

  Melanie laughed and rang the doorbell.

  Faye opened the door. “Hey, guys,” she said, pulling the door shut behind her. “Let’s go for a walk. Dad’s got public radio blasting in the house.” They turned down the sidewalk.

  “So, Mr. Simmington,” said Melanie, rubbing her hands together.

  “Mr. Simmington,” repeated Faye. “Well, I’ve done a little research.”

  “Of course, you have!” said Kate.

  Faye continued on, pretending not to hear. “After I got the text this morning, I searched for him online. He’s got a website, but it’s basically just his name and a picture or two of floats. The site didn’t list which parades he works on, but it did have a phone number. No email or anything.”

  “So maybe we should call him,” said Kate.

  “And say what?” asked Melanie. “We can’t come right out and tell him we’re trying to crack his code.”

  “If it is a code,” said Kate.

  “Of course it’s a code,” said Melanie.

  “Maybe he wants someone to crack it,” said Faye.

  “If so, why did he make it so difficult?” asked Melanie. “No, I think we’d better keep a low profile. We could tell him we’re doing a report for school or something.”

  “Yeah,” said Faye, “that’s a good one. We could say we have to write a report about a local person who’s contributed to the community.”

  “Just like those lame Citizen Reports we wrote last year,” said Kate. “I wrote mine about the school lunch lady.”

  “Ms. Sue?” asked Faye.

  “No, Ms. Leona.”

  “The mean one?” asked Faye in surprise.

  “The mean one,” confirmed Kate. “But ever since I selected her as my special Citizen, she’s a
big marshmallow to me. She always gives me extra helpings of chocolate pudding now.”

  “That’s true,” said Faye thoughtfully. “You do get more pudding than me.”

  Kate shrugged. “You just gotta play your cards right. And that’s what we’ll do with Mr. Simmington. Once he hears we’ve selected him for our report, he’ll love us.”

  “He said, ‘no thanks,’” said Kate, one minute later.

  She’d gone inside her house to make the call to Mr. Simmington, while Melanie and Faye lounged on the back porch in the sun.

  “What?” they both cried.

  “I thought you were going to butter him up,” said Melanie.

  “I really don’t know what happened.” Kate sat down beside them. “He was nice and polite and all that. He said thanks for choosing him, but no thanks. And that was it.”

  She looked at Faye and Melanie.

  Melanie felt as if someone had slammed a door right on her nose. “What did he sound like?” she asked.

  “I don’t know. What’s an old float designer supposed to sound like?”

  “I mean, did he sound busy?”

  “Not really. Just not interested in being interviewed. Seriously though. Who doesn’t like to be interviewed? Everyone loves to talk about themselves.”

  “Well,” said Melanie. “I guess Mr. Simmington doesn’t. If he won’t talk to us, we’ll have to get our information from somewhere else. But where?” She groaned and absently dragged a stick across the concrete floor of the porch. They’d had one breakthrough after another, but now she just felt stuck.

  “We don’t really know anybody in the organizations, right?” Melanie asked. Faye and Kate shook their heads. “My dad told me this morning that he used to be in Aztecs,” she continued, “but it was years and years ago. He hasn’t kept up with people in the group since then.”

  “Well, somebody knows about Mr. Simmington,” said Kate in exasperation. “I mean, I know everyone keeps their Mardi Gras stuff hush hush, but it’s not really a secret, right?”

  “I don’t know about that,” said Melanie slowly. “The whole focus is kind of on the mystery of it all. Think about it.” She started counting on her fingers. “They wear masks during the parades. In all my searching for parade pictures, I had to rely on photos uploaded from the crowd. No group actually posted their own photos online. I didn’t find any membership lists. I didn’t even know my own dad was in a group until this morning.”