Ann Martin - Jessi And The Jewel Thieves

Red shrugged. He looked sullen. "So you say, but I just don't know."

"What are you afraid of, you lily-livered,

chicken-hearted wimp?" asked Frank. "You make me sick!"

"I'm not afraid of anything — except getting busted."

"Busted?" roared Frank. "By the incompetent cops in this town? Forget it. This is the heist of the century. It'll go down in history as the perfect unsolved crime. The detectives will be going crazy, and we'll be in the islands, living the rest of our lives in luxury. Girls, rum, mangos, and papayas ..."

I glanced at Quint and raised my eyebrows. Heist? Papayas? This was one of the most interesting — and confusing — conversations I'd ever heard. Not that I make a habit of eavesdropping. Quint looked back at me, and his eyes were big and round.

"I don't believe this," he whispered. "They're planning some kind of robbery, and we're hearing the whole thing. If they knew we were listening —" He looked scared, suddenly.

My mouth went dry. He was right to be scared. No crook likes to be overheard when he's planning a crime. In the movies, anybody who "knows too much gets killed." Without a word to each other, Quint and I simultaneously scooched down in our seats so that we couldn't be seen from the window. But

there was no way we were about to stop listening.

The argument seemed to be gathering steam. "I've had it with you!" said Frank. "You may be an expert on jewels, but that's not enough. I need a partner who isn't going to wimp out on me."

"Just give me some time! These aren't just any jewels we're talking about, you know. The cops are going to go wild when this stuff turns up missing."

Jewels! This was getting better and better.

"I keep telling you," said Frank, "we don't need to worry about the cops. We'll be long gone before they even know the jewels are missing."

"I don't know," said Red again, looking stubborn. "Let's go over the plan one more time."

"No!" yelled Frank. "We've been over it a million times. You're either with me or not with me. And I gotta tell you, if you back out now, I'll kill you!"

Quint grabbed my arm, and I grabbed his. This was serious. I had no doubt that Frank meant what he said. He looked totally capable of killing somebody. He was tough and mean, and if I were Red I would run out of the room. Just then, Quint's father cracked the door

to the TV room. "Quint! Jessi!" he called. "Turn down that TV! Morgan and Tyler are trying to get to sleep."

Quint and I looked at each other. My first impulse was to giggle. This was a real fight we were listening to, not the TV. We couldn't turn it down if we wanted to. But then I saw the panicked look in Quint's eyes, and I realized that this was no laughing matter. Quint's dad had just yelled out our names, loud enough for Frank and Red to hear. I turned to look out the window, and saw that the two of them had stopped arguing. Instead, they were staring across the airshaft — at us.

Quint jumped up and hit the light switch, and we were plunged into darkness. Then he grabbed me and pulled me to the floor. My elbow bumped against the couch on the way down, and it stung, but I was too scared to care. "What are you doing?" I hissed.

"I didn't want them to see us," he whispered back."I had to move fast."

"Quint?" I said. "You were fast, but I don't think you were fast enough. I think they saw

us."

He groaned. "They heard our names, too."

I lifted my head slowly so that I could peek

out of the window again. If I saw Frank and

Red staring back at me, I knew I would just

die on the spot. But I didn't see them. In fact,

I couldn't see anything: they had pulled down the window blinds, and their apartment looked dark. "They're gone," I whispered to Quint. "Or at least, I can't see them anymore."

He stood up slowly and peeked across the way. Then, crouched down, he moved to the window and closed it. He scooted to the side of the window and pulled the cord that let the blinds down. Then he sat down next to me. He put his arm around me, and it felt good. I didn't think for a second about the Talk I'd wanted to have with him. I was feeling pretty shaky, and his arm was comforting. "Quint," I whispered, "we have to call the police."

He shook his head. "What would we tell them?" he asked. His voice sounded loud to me, and I tried to shush him. "It's okay," he said. "The window's closed." Quint seemed much calmer.

"We'd tell them that we witnessed two criminals planning a crime," I said, impatiently. I was still keeping my voice low.

"But we don't know what they were planning, or when it would happen," he said. "We don't have any real information at all. The police would probably just laugh at us. They'd think we were a couple of excited kids."

I started to argue, but I knew he was right. "But Quint," I said. "They saw us. They heard our names! And they know where you live."

He gave my shoulder a squeeze. "Don't worry," he said. "We'll probably never see them again. Do you know how many hundreds of people live just on this one block? I wouldn't know most of my neighbors if I tripped over them."

New York is so weird. I can't imagine not knowing my neighbors. But Quint sounded so sure of himself, and I wanted to believe him. "Maybe you're right," I said. "I mean, they probably didn't even think twice about a couple of kids overhearing their fight. Right?"

"Definitely." Quint sounded confident, but he didn't really look it. I could see doubt in his eyes. "Anyway, there's nothing we can do about it now."

"Quint," called Mrs. Walter. "I think it's about time for Jessi to go back to her friend's house. You need your rest tonight."

"Okay, Mom," replied Quint. "I guess she's right," he said to me. "I almost forgot to be nervous about my performance, after seeing thatl" He gestured toward the window, then shook his head and grinned.

"Well, that's good, I guess. Anyway, you don't have to be nervous. You're going to be great."

"Listen," he said, ignoring my compliment. "Maybe we can spend some time tomorrow trying to find out more about those two guys.

Maybe if we got enough information, we could go to the police." He looked excited.

"I don't know. That could be dangerous."

"Not if we're careful. Come on. It'll be kind of fun. We can be detectives."

I felt like Red, arguing with Frank. I didn't want to be called a lily-livered chicken heart. "Well, okay," I said. I had a feeling that Quint was looking for something to take his mind off the dance concert. If we were very careful, playing detective might be just the thing. Anyway, the scene we'd witnessed was already beginning to seem unreal. Could we really have seen and heard two jewel thieves in the midst of planning a heist?

I called Stacey to let her know I was about to head back to her dad's apartment, and she agreed to meet me outside. Then, after I'd said good-bye to Mr. and Mrs. Walter and thanked them for dinner, Quint walked me downstairs.

"So you'll come over first thing tomorrow, right?" he was saying as we walked through the big door that led from the lobby to the street.

I was about to agree when I saw something that made me gasp. There, in front of Quint's building, stood Red and Frank. My heart started to pound, and I turned to Quint, speechless. He grabbed my arm and steered me past the men, down the block, and around

the corner. I was sure the men were right behind us, but I was too afraid to look over my shoulder to check. So much for never seeing them again. I was terrified. They were following us already!

Quint hailed a cab that was speeding by. "Stacey's waiting for you," he said. "We'll talk tomorrow. There's no time now." He opened the door for me and I slid in, unable to say a word. "I can go into our building through the back way," he went on. "Don't worry about me." He gave the driver Stacey's address, called good night, and closed the door. The cab took off before I could say a thing.