Page 68 of Don't Cross Mo Ellery

Marlowe takes a few steps in front of the firefighters—the mountainous man and a small but clearly very strong woman—so they’re facing away from Claudia’s house, and starts crying convincingly.The woman crouches in front of her, and the man is rubbing the back of his neck and looking very uncomfortable.

Marlowe has put her trust in me. She expects me not to leave her hanging. She needs me. And so does the ghost of Claudia.

Nuts.

“Can I call you back?” I say. “I’m kind of in the middle of something.”

“Oh,” Eddie says. “Sure, I’ll be around from—”

Three-weeks-ago me wouldn’t believe it, but Ihang up on him. Something small and feeble inside me, oh let’s call it my grown-up brain, squeaksnooooooobut I quickly squash it and make an appointment to regret this decision later.

Instead, I run across the street and slip behind the truck. My heart is pounding as I count down from three for courage and then run into Claudia’s house, no hard hat needed. I close the door slightly and look behind it.

Yes.

There’s a thick brown envelope, with a solid layer of packing tape keeping it closed. Centered on the envelope is a label with Claudia’s name. And under her name are scrawled the words:This is just for starters—T.J.

Holy crap.

This is definitely a clue.

And I know whoT.J.is because Mo Ellery wasn’t born yesterday.

It’s Tond Johnston.

God, isn’t it nice when the pieces of the puzzle just snap cleanly into place?

Benny and Tond. In cahoots. Tond ready to do whatever it takes to get his dirty real estate dealings done, Benny desperate for Tond’s money, willing to deliver secret packages while pretending to be an innocent hot neighborhood dog walker. It practically writes itself.

Mystery solved, bitches.

I give myself a mental high five and glance around to see if there are any scissors I can use on this tape, when my phone buzzes again.Oh mygod, Eddie, give it up already—but when I check the screen, it’s Marlowe.

“Marlowe?” I ask.

“Code red!”

“What? I don’t know what that means, Marlowe!”

“They’re coming inside!”

I don’t say anything else, just shove the phone in my pocket, grab the envelope, and do the only thing I can think of—I race through the kitchen, out the back door, into the yard, and past Claudia’s back gate into the alley.

I hide behind a neighbor’s garbage bin to catch my breath, and my phone buzzes again.

“What now,” I wheeze.

“Code, um—” she starts.

“Forget the code, dude, just tell me what’s happening!”

“Okay, Code I Might Be in Trouble.”

“Yeah, that’s good,” I say. “See? Now I understand what you’re trying to tell me. It’s a little long, but it’s very clear.”

“Mo,” she whispers. “For real, I might be in trouble—”

“What do you mean?”