Casey Templeton Mysteries 2-Book Bundle. Gwen Molnar

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СКАЧАТЬ about a year ago one of the chat rooms started getting messages from an outside group suggesting we get in touch with them for exciting new conversations and ideas. I resisted for ages, but they kept on and on about what we were missing, what did we have to lose, and that once we contacted them we’d be in with technologically elite kindred spirits.”

      “So you went for it?”

      Bryan sighed. “About eight months ago I contacted the website they said to and made the awful mistake of giving them not only my real name and email but even my home address.”

      “Oh, boy!” Casey shook his head. Hank had always told him how careful you had to be on the Internet.

      “At first it was pretty exciting, and I felt I finally belonged to an easy bunch to talk to. A lot of their messages were based on Bible teachings and were written so powerfully that I got caught up in it all. And then … then …”

      “Then what?” Casey pressed.

      “Then they asked me to distribute some anti-gay pamphlets. They said it would establish me as a real worker for the cause.”

      Casey could hardly believe his ears. “You’re the one who delivered all those pamphlets last month? You must have spent the whole night at it!”

      Bryan seemed ashamed. “I did. And after that they sent me some drugs.”

      “Drugs?”

      “So I’d feel obliged to them, I guess,” Bryan explained. “I hid the parcel in here.” He walked over to a tall cupboard, opened the bottom doors, pulled out a stack of books, and showed Casey a small, tightly sealed package.

      “How did you know what was in the package?” Casey asked. “It’s sealed shut.”

      “Oh, I resealed it very carefully. It’s got pills in it stamped with butterflies. That’s how Ecstasy’s sometimes marked. I found that out on the Internet. I had the package for about a week and was going to send it back when I got an email that said if I didn’t do what they wanted next they’d tell my parents I was on drugs.”

      “Why didn’t you just throw the package out and stop emailing them? And besides, they still could be any kind of pills and not something illegal.”

      Bryan looked miserable. “Sure, I suppose they could be something harmless, but how do I know for sure? And I can’t ask anyone who might know. As for throwing the whole thing out, I thought of doing that, but the group said if I did that they could still let the police know I got the package and what was in it.”

      “So what did this group want you to do?” Casey asked.

      “Steal some money and send it to them.”

      “You didn’t do that, did you?”

      “They said they’d tell my parents if I didn’t.”

      “So you stole money? From who?”

      “No, I didn’t steal it. I sent them my own money.”

      “How much?”

      Bryan looked at the floor sheepishly. “Four hundred dollars. They think I did steal it, and now they’re saying that if I don’t keep doing what they order me to do, they’ll tell the police.”

      “Bryan, you can just tell the police they’re lying.”

      “Yeah, but what if the group tells the police about the pamphlets and the drugs and the other stuff?”

      “What other stuff?”

      Before Bryan could answer they heard the front door open and close.

      “My parents!” Bryan cried.

      “They’ll have seen my skates and coat in the front hall, so they know someone’s here,” Casey said. “Take me down and introduce me.”

      “But they’ll think it’s strange. I never have anybody over.”

      “Well, you have now.” Casey headed out of the room. “How about you come over to my place sometime tomorrow afternoon and you can finish telling me about all this?”

      “Thanks, Casey,” Bryan said softly.

      They were at the bottom of the stairs now, and Bryan’s parents were coming out of the living room.

      “Mother, Father, this is Casey Templeton.”

      Mrs. Ogilvy smiled. “Hello, Casey.” She was a very pretty, beautifully dressed woman about his mother’s age, Casey figured. “You’re a friend of Bryan’s?” She might as well have said, “But Bryan doesn’t have any friends.”

      Casey grinned. “Yes, ma’am, I am. I was just asking Bryan to come over to our house tomorrow afternoon.”

      “Templeton, Templeton …” Mr. Ogilvy, a tall, thin, sandy sort of man in a formal navy blue suit, appraised Casey thoughtfully. “Your father’s that army type who’s moved back here, right?”

      “He’s a retired RCMP chief superintendent,” Casey said, taking an instant dislike to Bryan’s father.

      “Ah, yes …” Mr. Ogilvy turned back into the living room with Bryan’s mother at his side.

      Bryan shook his head glumly at his parents’ rudeness.

      “Well, bye, Bryan,” Casey said. “See you tomorrow?”

      “Thanks again, Casey. I’ll come about three if that’s okay?” He opened the front door.

      “Sure.” Casey handed his skates to Bryan as he put on his coat. “Three it is.”

      He heard the door shut behind him and inhaled some fresh cold air. My gosh, he thought, glancing back at the house, no wonder Bryan doesn’t want to tell his parents about all the weird stuff he’s into!

      X X X

      Casey hung up his coat and skates in the back hall of his house when he returned home from Bryan’s place. The smell of fresh coffee and hot cinnamon buns drifting from the kitchen filled his nose, while the sounds of a heated discussion blasting from the living room assaulted his ears. Wow! They were really going on about something — eight people seemed to be talking at once. As Casey strained to catch the drift of the argument, his mother came into the kitchen.

      “What’s everybody so pumped up about, Mom?” he asked, crossing to take a bun off the hot tray on the kitchen counter as his mother poured coffee from a tall aluminum machine into a serving pot.

      “Oh, hi, Casey! Jim Bailey’s playing devil’s advocate.”

      “What’s devil’s advocate mean?”

      “It means defending something you don’t necessarily believe to get people to argue against you. Jim’s taking the side of the people in the area who don’t want new people moving in. Here, give me a hand passing around these buns while I freshen up everybody’s coffee.”

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