The Great Shelby Holmes (9 page)

S
helby
led
me
to
the
subway
(
mumbling
under
her
breath
the
entire
time
about
“
professionalism
”) and took me on my very first New York City subway ride as we headed to Mom's work.

I tried not to stare at everybody who entered the subway or grasp the pole too tightly when the train swayed as it made its way uptown. I'd seen the New York City subway countless of times on different
TV
shows or movies. There I was, riding it like a real New Yorker. Well, a New Yorker who nearly fell over when the subway paused abruptly and I hadn't properly braced myself.

I leaned over to study the many multicolored lines that made up the subway map, remembering the list Mom and I had made of all the places we wanted to see once we settled in: the Statue of Liberty, Coney Island, Yankee Stadium, Madison Square Garden, Little Italy—pretty much all of it! I couldn't wait to really explore. This was my city now.

“What's your favorite place in the city?” I asked Shelby.

“The library.”

A library?
I mean, I love books and all, but New York City has skyscrapers and museums and celebrities. Must be some library.

“What museums do you go to?”

“All of them.”

“Uh, what …” I trailed off because I could tell that Shelby's curt replies, while something I was getting used to, were probably due to the fact that I dragged her away from her case. I felt guilty, I really did.

Shelby closed her eyes and began talking to herself. When she finally opened them and looked at me, she appeared disappointed I was still there.

Since she wasn't interested in talking to me about New York City, I figured there was one thing she might be interested in: her case.

“Do you have any idea what happened to Daisy?” I asked.

She shrugged. “Currently there are numerous possibilities. I need to case the residence properly and personally speak to the guards. Doing it a day later generally places me at a disadvantage, as it's imperative to have everybody's memories fresh. However, we have two full days left before the dog show, plenty of time for the thief to make a mistake.”

“Do you think the missing picture frame has anything to do with who took Daisy?”

“Perhaps. I don't ignore anything. Sometimes the smallest clue can lead to the biggest discovery.”

I nodded. “I'm really sorry again for making you leave. It's really cool of you to help me out.”

“I'm used to helping people. Generally, it's something of a more prominent nature, not being a personal tour guide.”

I masked my scowl because she was right. I did need her help, but then a thought hit me. “So you go to school with Tamra, but you aren't friends. Doesn't it bother you that she only came to you because she wanted something?”

She shrugged. “It's what I do.” She looked away and pretended to read the advertisements on the train, but it was obvious it bothered her. How could it not?

I mean, not like Shelby was the easiest person to get to know or become friends with.

Still, it must've been hard to have people only want to hang out with you if you could do something for them. But wasn't that what I was doing now?

“Hey.” I tried to think of something I could do to show her how much I appreciated her help, but I could only think of one thing she truly enjoyed (besides making people feel foolish). “Maybe tomorrow I could buy you, like, I don't
know, a huge vat of sugar or something? Is there a bakery or an ice-cream place near our building? It would be on me.”

“You don't have to do that.”

“I know, but I
want
to.” Plus, maybe she'll be nicer when she's hopped up on sugar (not like she didn't inhale four brownies earlier).

She finally looked at me. I was expecting gratitude or a crack in her hard exterior, but she was annoyed. “Please don't, Watson.”

“Don't what?”

“Pretend we're friends, because the second you meet somebody from our school, you'll act like you don't know me.”

Was this because she could tell I wanted to hang with Zane? She couldn't be jealous, could she? No, I doubted that. She hasn't once acted like she wanted to be friends with me. Maybe she was used to people leaving her for other friends.

Before I could protest, she continued, “I get it, I'm a freak. But I'm also a really good detective. I don't need help. I don't need friends. What I
do
need is to solve this case and not have to be your babysitter.”

The train came to a stop and Shelby got off. I stood there stunned. I couldn't believe she would think that of me.
And
that she would abandon me on the subway.

“Watson,” she called out from the subway doors, “this is your stop.”

I quickly jumped out of the train as the warning bell rang out. My mind kept reeling with things to say to her. Did I want to be friends with Shelby? Or was I just using her? I remained mute as she walked me to the Columbia University Medical Center building where I had my doctor's appointment, with four minutes to spare. She didn't even turn around as I called after her once again to thank her. Never had someone so openly dismissed me as a friend.

She had been pretty clear since I met her that I was a bit of a nuisance to her.

Well, if she didn't want to be my friend, I was going to focus on making new friends. Zane was cool. I was going to meet a ton of people when school started. Yep, that was it. Starting tomorrow, I was going to study maps of the neighborhood and start getting around on my own. I was going to meet new people. I was going to become independent. I was going to be just fine on my own.

But then why did I feel so bad?

CHAPTER

10

“J
ohn
?”

Mom was waving her hand in front of my face as we walked around our new neighborhood that evening.

“Is everything all right?” she asked as she took my hand to walk across the street, just like she used to when I was little. “You seem distracted.”

“Yeah, no,” I mumbled, trying to regain a sense of normalcy after my bizarre afternoon.

I felt horrible after I left Shelby.
Was
I just using her? Yes, I needed her help since I was new to the city, but I kinda liked hanging out with her, too. She was just so …
different
. And I meant that in a good way. There was never a dull moment, that was for sure. And yeah, the case was interesting. How could I resist investigating a dognapping?

But I also knew that I needed to find some new friends. Some guys. People who would
want
to be friends with me.

“How did the rest of your day go?”

“Fine,” I replied.

“Just
fine
?” She mimicked my monotone response back to me.

I was usually chattier with Mom, but I really didn't know what to say. I couldn't let her know about the case since she wouldn't approve of my running around the city with a relative stranger. But the case was all that was on my mind. And Shelby.

“Oh my,” Mom said under her breath, and she steered us clear of Billy as he rummaged through the garbage. “So sad.”

I looked down, not wanting him to recognize me since Mom would not be okay with the fact that I apparently associated with dudes who went through the trash.

Mom began going through her purse. “I know you shouldn't give homeless people money directly, but it's so hard to watch someone starve.”

Just then, Billy lifted his head up. “Hey! I know you!” He pointed at me, and I could sense Mom tense up. She zipped up her purse and held it tighter to her body. “You're Shelby's friend, right?”

I nodded in response, ignoring Mom's horrified stare.

“You tell her all's well in the neighborhood! Nothing to report.”

“Sounds good,” I replied as I picked up my pace, but I couldn't walk too fast, as Mom still had a slight limp from her injury.

“You know him?” Mom asked with wide eyes.

“Shelby does, he's a freegan—he only eats food that's thrown out,” I explained.

Mom looked back at him with a surprised glance. She then laughed lightly. “Only in New York!”

She had no idea.

I tried to remember everything Shelby had told me about our neighborhood. When I walked with Shelby, so many people said hello to her, but now everybody rushed by without even glancing up at Mom or me. The neighborhood didn't seem as friendly.

“This is the pizzeria I was telling you about,” I said as we stopped in front of Sal's. The menu was placed in the window next to photos of Sal with a bunch of politicians, athletes, and celebrities who had eaten there.

Mom tilted her head and pointed toward a photo up in the corner. “Isn't that Shelby?”

Sure enough, there was a photo of a beaming Sal with his arm around Shelby, who appeared put out by the attention.

“Is she a local celebrity or something?” Mom asked with an amused tone in her voice.

“Or something,” I replied, knowing that as much as Shelby seemed not to enjoy that photo, I was positive her ego felt otherwise.

“Well, I'm hungry. Let's go in!”

We entered the narrow pizzeria, which had a long counter that contained numerous large pizzas behind a glass partition. Against the opposite wall were booths with red-and-white-checkered tablecloths. My mouth began watering as the smell of pizza, garlic, and melted cheese wafted from the brick oven in the back.

Mom and I slid into an empty booth directly across from the air conditioner, which was blasting. My eyes darted around the large menu, wondering if I should get pasta or pizza. It was always a treat when Mom let me eat whatever I wanted. Granted, it meant that she would insist on monitoring my glucose levels and personally administering my nightly insulin shot, but it was worth it.

“I think we have to get a pizza, right?” Mom smiled at me. “When in New York City …”

Sal came up to our table and placed a plate of garlic knots in the center.

“We didn't order these,” Mom began to explain, before Sal cut her off.

“Any friend of Shelby's is a friend of mine!” He patted me on the back before running behind the counter to help a couple who walked in. I didn't even have a chance to tell him that Shelby only considered me to be a pain.

“Is there anybody in this neighborhood who doesn't know Shelby?” Mom asked.

“I don't think so.” I took a bite of the greasy bread, and my eyes nearly rolled back into my head at the perfect blend of butter and garlic.

“Whoa,” Mom commented before taking a bigger bite.

It was possible we devoured the entire plate in record time. Luckily, Sal took our pizza order while another guy delivered our drinks—iced tea for Mom, water for me (because it didn't matter the occasion; I was never allowed to drink soda).