LITMIR.BIZ

      chapter 1

      Figure in the Fog

      “IT’S A MYSTERY how we manage to live here at all!” Julie declared. “This apartment is no bigger than my locker at school.” She was kneeling on the floor, trying to fit a stack of Nancy Drew mysteries from her overflowing bedroom shelves into the crowded bookcase under the living room window. The November day outside the window was gray and misty.

      “Be glad it’s small,” called Joyce Albright, Julie’s mom, from the kitchen where she was mopping the floor. “Housework here takes only a fraction of the time it used to.”

      “I just wish we had a bigger place,” Julie said wistfully. She liked their apartment well enough. It was close to school and Golden Gate Park and was right upstairs from her mom’s shop, Gladrags. But Julie missed the spacious house her family had lived in together in North Beach, on the other side of San Francisco, before her parents’ divorce. She missed having her dad at home with them. And she missed having her best friend, Ivy Ling, right across the street.

      She finally managed to cram the books into the shelf on top of a stack of her sister Tracy’s Tennis magazines. There!

      “At least there’s not a lot of floor space to vacuum,” Tracy said in a suspiciously bright and cheerful voice. “Right, Mom? And there’s a great view!” She glanced out at the foggy afternoon. “When there is a view.”

      Julie turned to look skeptically at her sister. Sixteen-year-old Tracy was not usually bright or cheerful these days unless she wanted something. Julie waited—then rolled her eyes when her sister spoke again: “Of course, we are pretty far from the grocery store. But don’t worry, Mom, because I can just drive there and do the shopping for you! Hey, why don’t I go now and buy some stuff for dinner tonight? Let’s have fondue!”

      Knew it, Julie thought with an inward smile as she picked up her dust cloth. Tracy was always coming up with reasons to use the car. She’d had her driver’s license for eight months already and absolutely loved to drive. But their mom still thought Tracy needed more practice on the steep streets of San Francisco and rarely let her take the car.

      “No thanks, honey,” Mom replied predictably. “I’ve got a casserole planned.”

      Tracy turned on the vacuum cleaner with an irritated flip of the switch, and for a few minutes it was impossible to carry on a conversation while she shoved the machine around the small living area. Finally Tracy shut off the roar of the vacuum. “Well, can I drive to the library, at least?”

      In the kitchen doorway, Mrs. Albright shook her head. “Not this afternoon.”

      “But I have overdue books!”

      “It’s getting late, it’s foggy, and it’s supposed to rain. Not great driving conditions. Anyway, I want you to help me with the table decorations so everything will be ready for Thanksgiving. I’ve got an overstock of Pet Rocks down in the shop, so we’re going to turn them into Pet Rock Pilgrims and turkeys.”

      Julie grinned. The silly novelties—just ordinary fist-sized rocks in a box!—would make cute holiday decorations. Leave it to Mom!

      But Tracy wasn’t amused. “Come on, Mom. I’ve driven in fog before! Besides, Thanksgiving isn’t for another week. And why do we need table decorations, anyway? It’s just us.”

      “Actually, we’re having company,” Mom announced. She propped her mop against the refrigerator and came into the living room. “Hank told me about some men he’s been helping at the veterans’ rehabilitation center. He said there are a few whose families live far away, who don’t have anywhere to go for the holiday—”

      Tracy rolled her eyes. “So you had to invite them here?”

      “I didn’t have to,” replied her mom. “But why not? It will be a pleasure to have Hank with us for the holiday, and an honor to give the veterans a good home-cooked meal.”

      “Sounds good to me,” Julie said. She ignored the dark look her sister gave her. They all liked red-bearded Hank, and hosting soldiers who had returned from service in Vietnam and were still recovering from war injuries was a nice thing to do.

      “It’s going to be completely depressing having old dudes in wheelchairs crowded in here like sardines,” Tracy declared. “Can’t I go to Dad’s instead?”

      “You know very well that your dad has to be away from home this Thanksgiving,” Joyce Albright reminded Tracy. “His flight schedule is extra busy this time of year. Anyway, you’ll enjoy the vets. They’re not old men—some of them aren’t all that much older than you.”

      “I don’t care,” Tracy groused. “It still sounds depressing.”

      “I think it sounds fun,” said Julie, dusting the top of the bookshelf. “I’ll help make the decorations as soon as I finish cleaning up my room.”

      “You are such a Goody Two-shoes!” hissed Tracy, and she flounced off to her bedroom.

      Julie finished dusting the main room and then retreated to her own small bedroom, still carrying the can of polish and the dust rag. She sat at her desk and picked up the mystery she’d finished earlier that dreary day. Nancy Drew had the perfect life! She got to solve intriguing cases, never had to clean the house, and didn’t have a grumpy older sister.

      Julie tossed the book onto her bed and stared out the window at the damp street. San Francisco in November was often foggy, but this year it seemed gloomier than usual. The misty weather matched her mood.

      Outside the window Julie saw a girl in a yellow rain slicker coming down the street, walking two dogs, one leash in each hand. When a gust of wind blew the girl’s hood off, Julie recognized her school friend, Joy Jenner. Joy earned money as a dog walker, and Julie sometimes walked with her. Julie started to open the window and call hello, then caught herself. It was surprisingly easy to forget that Joy was deaf. Her friend was so good at reading lips that when they were together, talking wasn’t much of a problem. But Joy would not hear a call from the window.

      Julie admired the way the dogs walked obediently beside Joy, pausing at the curb with her, wagging their tails when she patted them. Wishing she could have a dog of her own, Julie watched her friend turn the corner.

      Julie longed for a dog the way her sister Tracy longed for a car of her own—but she knew the landlord’s no-pets rule was firm. A small apartment on a bustling city street wasn’t the right place for a dog, anyway.

      Julie sighed, and turned her attention to a busy spider that was building a web along the top of her window frame. She knew she was supposed to dust every inch of her room, and that would include the window…but the little spider was working so diligently! It would be a shame to wreck such hard work.

      What if she kept the spider for a pet? The landlord could hardly object to that! It would be her secret pet. “I could call you Harriet, after Harriet the Spy,” she told the spider. That was another book Julie liked. And besides, the spider was hairy.

      Down in the street a figure appeared in the fog—a woman, struggling to hold on to her umbrella against the wind. It was hard to tell how old she was, but Julie could see that she was tall and thin and was carrying a bulging shopping bag. Her long dark hair was pulled back into a straggly ponytail. She scurried, spider-like, along the deserted sidewalk. As Julie watched, she stopped at the apartment building across the street and started poking into all the metal trash cans on the curb. Then she opened her big shopping bag and stowed something inside.

      A thief! thought Julie. Nancy Drew would give chase! But…was it really theft when the things had already been thrown away? Julie watched the woman cross the street to the corner outside Gladrags.

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