The Mystery of the Zorse's Mask

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Authors: Linda Joy Singleton

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The Curious Cat Spy Club

Book Two: The Mystery of the Zorse's Mask

Linda Joy Singleton

Albert Whitman & Company

Chicago, Illinois

To my husband, David, who loves horses and

helped me search for a real zorse

Contents

Chapter 1: Spy Games

Chapter 2: Secret Twenty-Nine

Chapter 3: Sparkling!

Chapter 4: Good-Bye, Zed

Chapter 5: Missing Mask

Chapter 6: A Plan

Chapter 7: Sunflower Mary

Chapter 8: Shadows

Chapter 9: Monster Mash

Chapter 10: Clue in Blue

Chapter 11: Staged

Chapter 12: Dizzy Izzy

Chapter 13: Dragon Flying

Chapter 14: Ditzy Dog

Chapter 15: Real or Fake?

Chapter 16: Spying on a Spy

Chapter 17: A Puzzling Clue

Chapter 18: A Shocking Call

Chapter 19: Shake, Rattle, and Ride

Chapter 20: Whipped

Chapter 21: Return of the Zorse

Chapter 22: All That Glitters

Chapter 23: An Old Photograph

About the Author

Chapter 1

Spy Games

I snap steel handcuffs on my captive's wrists. “You will
not
escape.”

“I will,” he says with no fear. But he should be afraid. His legs are tied to a chair and his arms are cuffed behind his back. We're in a shack in the woods, so if he screams, only wild animals will hear—and they won't help.

“Try to get out. I dare you.”

He smiles. “According to my calculations, I'll be free in seven and a half minutes.”

“You'll never break loose from the cuffs without this.” I wave a silver lock pick in his face, then place it on the table—far out of reach.

With a click of the overhead light, I plunge the room into darkness.

I leave and lock the door.

I'm grinning as I step outside the Skunk Shack. It's a cloudy day with a crisp spring breeze that flings my hair across my face. I push my hair back and bend over a basket where three kittens curl together, sleeping. I pet the orange kitten I named Honey. She stirs with a flick of her stubby tail, then drifts back to sleep.

I walk over to Becca, who's perched on our favorite stump that is as wide and high as a table. Her glitter-striped sneakers dangle over the prickly weeds. She taps her heels rhythmically against the stump like there's a song in her head.

“How'd it go, Kelsey?” Becca asks. “Is he locked up?”

“Snug as a bug in a jar,” I say proudly. “No way can he get loose.”

“You hope,” she teases.

“I know.” My title in our club is Spy Tactic Specialist—and I'm good at it. Let the spy games begin!

“I have something for you.” I dig into my pocket for a folded piece of paper and hold it out to Becca. “A letter.”

Her dark eyes widen in surprise. “You've never written to me before.”

“Never had a reason,” I say in a hushed tone, a twig snapping beneath my foot. “This letter reveals a
big
secret.”

Becca stops tapping her heels against the stump as she leans closer to me.

“From your collection?”

I nod. Becca is the only person who knows I collect secrets the way other girls collect shoes. Most of my secrets come from being observant—like when I saw Trever Auslin destroy a school textbook. I don't tattle or gossip. Instead, this became secret twenty-seven in my notebook of secrets. No one has ever seen my notebook—not even Becca.

“Here.” I hold out the letter. But as Becca reaches for it, I pull it away. “No. I've changed my mind.”

I rip the letter into pieces that float to the ground like tiny parachutes.


Kelsey!
” Becca exclaims. “I can't believe you did that!”

“Believe it.” I press my lips together firmly.

“But I wanted to read it.”

“So read it.” I smile. “Put the letter back together, girl sleuth. Here's some tape.”

“Oh.” Becca nods in understanding as she takes the tape. “This is a spy lesson, like what our captive, Leo, is getting.”

“Good deduction.” I nod. “Imagine you're trailing a suspect. He sits on a park bench and a woman sits beside him. They act like they don't know each other, but the woman sneaks a note to the suspect. After she leaves, he reads the note, rips it, and tosses the pieces into a trash can. Your challenge is to put the letter back together. Make sure all the pieces fit perfectly before taping them.” I look at my wristwatch. “You have ten minutes.”

Becca jumps off the stump and chases after the scraps of paper, a few dancing away from her on the wind.

I squat beside the kittens to watch the show. While Becca captures paper, I listen for sounds from inside the shack. Leo should have chair-hobbled to the table by now. If he's really flexible, he'll wiggle his feet through his arms so his cuffed hands are in front of instead of behind his back. I would love to watch, but Leo insisted on working in the dark to make the spy lesson more challenging.

So I cuddle with Honey while Becca chases after wind-blown paper. The pieces of paper swirl out of her reach like fluttering moths. As she grabs for a tiny piece, the wind steals it away and she stumbles to the ground. Instead of getting mad or quitting, she jumps back up, laughing. Even dusted in dirt, with hair falling out of her ponytail, she looks chic.

Lately, I've started wearing my hair in a ponytail too. It's not pink-streaked and curly black like Becca's; it's plain brown and too straight. Becca's the coolest girl I know, and so creative, she designs her own wild-animal-print outfits. She's in my science class at school, but we didn't become friends until I helped catch her runaway zorse (an animal that is part zebra, part horse). When we found kittens trapped in a dumpster, Leo joined in the rescue, which led to a secret club and three secret kittens.

Well, just two kittens after today.

Leo is taking his calico kitten home. He can finally have a cat because his allergic dad moved out. Not a happy reason, although Leo says his parents are happier apart. Leo is so lucky that he can keep his kitten. Becca can't because her mom already fosters too many cats. I can't because I live in a cramped apartment with two adults and four kids. But Dad will hear about a new job today, which could mean moving into a house where we can have pets.

“Got it!” Becca announces and holds up a scrap of paper.

I glance at my watch. “Three minutes left.”

“I can do it!” Becca carries the tape and papers over to the stump, spreading out the scraps like puzzle pieces.

While I watch her, I think how much I love being in the Curious Cat Spy Club. Becca, Leo, and I created the CCSC to care for our three kittens, but now our goal is to help all animals—and solve mysteries. Last week we unmasked a pet-napper, and we have two more mysteries to solve: Why did someone leave a broken grandfather clock in the Skunk Shack? What really happened to Zed the Zorse?

I feel sick whenever I think of Zed's ugly scars. The sweet zebra-horse has been at Wild Oaks Sanctuary, run by Becca's mother, for over six months. No one knows where he came from, but he has scars from being beaten. Becca thinks he ran away from an abusive owner. She freaked out last week after a man called, saying he's the owner and wants Zed back. But the man didn't leave his name or number and hasn't shown up. Becca is relieved because she loves Zed and hopes he can stay at Wild Oaks forever.

I glance at my watch. “Two minutes.”

“But I'm missing a piece!” Becca finally finds the paper stuck to the bottom of her sneaker.

She finishes the challenge with thirty-five seconds to spare.

“Great work!” I pat her shoulder.

Becca doesn't answer because she's already reading the taped letter.

What will she think of the secret I revealed? I've learned lots of secrets because I'm so quiet that people don't notice me. It wouldn't be right to reveal someone else's secret to Becca though, so I shared something terrible I did when I was five. I got mad at my mom and hid so well no one could find me, then I fell asleep. I didn't know everyone was looking for me until I woke up hours later and saw the police car.

“Wow.” Becca looks up from the letter. “You must be really good at hiding.”

“No one beats me at hide-and-seek. But I still feel guilty for what I did,” I add more seriously. “When I saw my parents talking to a policeman, I was scared I'd get into trouble, so I made up a story about being kidnapped. I don't know if my parents believed me, but I felt guilty for lying to them. I've never told anyone the truth.”

“Until now.” Becca squeezes my hand. “I won't tell anyone—not ever. Thanks for trusting me with your secret.” She tilts her head toward the Skunk Shack. “Should we go free Leo?”

“According to his calculations, he should have unlocked the handcuffs by now,” I say lightly.

“He won't escape that easily,” Becca says.

I chuckle. “He's a whiz with robots but not handcuffs.”

“Poor guy needs rescuing.” Becca playfully tugs my arm. “Come on. Let's help him.”

We enter the shack, which is dark until I turn on the lamp. “Game over, Leo,” I call as light brightens the room.

The chair I left him tied to is empty.

Leo is gone.

“Where is he?” Becca turns in a circle to look around our clubhouse.

I check under the table, behind the grandfather clock, and even inside a rusty metal cabinet too small for anyone to hide in.

“I don't understand.” I twist my ponytail around my finger. “There's no way he could get out. The door was locked. We would have seen if he'd come outside.”

“He must have crawled through the window,” Becca says with a gesture toward the only window in the clubhouse, which is darkened by shutters.

“Impossible. The shutters are locked from the outside.”

“Look!” Becca points to the table.

I follow her gaze to the pair of shiny silver handcuffs. Grabbing them, I check to see if they're broken. But they look as good as when they arrived in the mail from Spy Guys.

“The lock pick is gone.” I tuck the cuffs into my pocket. “Leo must have it. But where is he?”

“Turn around!”

I whirl at Leo's voice. He's standing in the doorway, grinning. His blond hair is swept back neatly, and there's not a speck of dirt on his white button-down, vest, or black slacks.

Becca shakes her head, puzzled. “How did you escape?”

“Utilizing strategy and logic,” Leo says with a shrug. “I couldn't climb onto the table with handcuffs on. But the table is lopsided, so I tilted it until the lock pick slid into my hands. As I calculated, I had the handcuffs off within seven and a half minutes.”

“But how did you get out of the room?” I demand. “We were outside the door. And the window shutters are locked.”

“This lock pick you taught me to use is an efficient tool.” He holds up my silver pick. “I used the flat end to pry off the window screen. I reached around to unlock the latch, then crawled outside and onto the roof. The hardest part was not laughing while Becca chased after those papers.”

“You sneaky spy!” Becca accuses.

“I'll take that as a compliment.” Leo bows.

“Great job, both of you,” I say. “You've proven your spy skills.”

“It was super fun,” Becca says. She picks up an empty kitten food packet and tosses it in the trash. “We have to leave soon. Let's tuck the kittens inside for the night.”

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