The Great Shelby Holmes and the Coldest Case Page 3

  “What is that?” I asked Shelby when I arrived at her bedroom after dinner that night.

  “Rollerblades.” She then placed a helmet and kneepads on her unmade bed. “I thought it best for you to start on the sidewalk before we move to the ice.”

  Why would . . .

  Oh no. No. NO. NO. NO!

  I was going undercover . . . ​as a figure skater?

  Of course that was happening. Of course it was.

  Shelby continued, “It’s important when going undercover to be as prepared as possible. We must know our alias inside and out. But this is a very special undercover mission as we are going to pose as a figure skating pairs couple.”

  “You’re skating, too?” I asked. I’d never seen Shelby do anything remotely athletic, except run. Although she did study jujitsu. If she was going to be better than me at this, I was going to be really annoyed.

  Couldn’t I have one thing I could beat her at? ONE THING.

  “Obviously I’m joining you,” she replied as she showed me pictures of an ice-skating rink. “We need access to the ice rink where Jordan practices. That was where Jordan was given the note. There are only a handful of people who have access to the locker rooms and rink in the early morning as it’s closed for private skating. There are two rinks at Chelsea Piers. One is reserved for Tatiana’s clients, which now include us. We’re going tomorrow after school to observe the space and meet Jordan. Then Monday morning comes the real test: interacting with the skaters who use the other rink. It just so happens that rink is used by Sergi Petrov and his clients.”

  “Who’s Sergi Petrov?”

  “Tatiana’s former pairs skating partner . . . and ex-husband.”

  “Yikes.” Well, it looked like we already had one suspect and we hadn’t even arrived at the scene of the crime. An ex-partner and ex-husband? We should just arrest the guy now. Not like we arrested people or anything. But still.

  “Exactly.” Shelby gave a nod. “And since Jordan isn’t talking to her trusted coach, we need to insert ourselves into the equation.”

  “Okay, so where are your Rollerblades?” I looked around her bedroom. All I could see, besides her usual mess, were weird mathematic equations with letters and numbers on a giant whiteboard up against one wall.

  “I’m going to learn using this.” She held up a giant physics book.

  “Oh, come on, Shelby. You can’t be serious?”

  “Of course I’m serious, Watson. Physics is a very serious and scientific method. Figure skating is all about friction, momentum, Newton’s third law, angular momentum . . .” She tilted her head when she could tell she’d completely lost me.

  Now I didn’t know that much about figure skating, but it wasn’t about science. It was about trying to balance on a blade going over ice without falling down. And they jumped. And wore really frilly outfits.

  This was going to be a disaster.

  “See this equation?” Shelby asked as she pointed toward I1w1 =  I2w2 on the whiteboard. “This is the equation for rotation. I represents rotational inertia around the spin axis, while—”

  “English, please.” I mean, Come. On. Did Shelby seriously expect me to know anything about physics? I was in sixth grade math and science. Physics was years away. Thankfully.

  “Watch,” Shelby said as she sat down in an office chair with wheels near her desk. She pushed it away and then started spinning around in a circle. She held her arms out. “Now as I pull my arms closer to my body, I’ll move more rapidly.” As soon as she adjusted her arms, she started spinning faster and faster.

  “Cool,” I replied. Hey, maybe physics wouldn’t be so bad after all.

  Shelby stuck her foot out to stop the chair while I walked over to the whiteboard. There was this other equation I couldn’t even begin to describe. But since it had to do with Shelby, I figured it meant trouble. “What’s this the equation for?”

  “I’m trying to figure out the mechanics of the death spiral.”

  “The what?” I did not like the sound of that.

  Shelby took out her laptop and showed me a video of a guy and a girl skating. And then the dude, holding the girl’s hand, rotated her around him, but she was leaning back and nearly parallel to the ground. Her head was only inches from the ice. So it would be more dangerous for Shelby than me . . .

  “Don’t get any ideas,” Shelby remarked dryly.

  (Sometimes I swear she really could read minds.)

  She paused the video on the two skaters as they took their bow at the end of the program, both smiling and holding hands. They looked like siblings: white, blond hair, blue eyes.

  “That,” Shelby said as she pointed to the girl, “is Jordan.”

  “Who’s the guy? Her brother?”

  “Douglas, her former partner.”

  “Former partner?”

  “Yes.” Shelby began pulling up articles about Jordan and Douglas. “They were one of the top junior pairs teams when Jordan left to become a solo skater.”

  “Whoa.” Seemed like we might have another potential suspect.

  “Exactly.” A grin spread on Shelby’s face. “Lots of suspects.”

  I scrolled through the images of Jordan and Douglas through the years. They’d been skating together since they were little. They looked so much alike. I kept looking at the photos of Jordan and Douglas on the top of the podium, and the other couples with them, always a step or two below.

  “Ah, Shelby, I think we’re missing a huge problem with this whole undercover figure skating pairs thing.”

  Shelby groaned. “We don’t need to skate at an Olympic level, Watson. We need to simply appear as if we’re pair skaters.”

  “Yeah, but that’s the thing: there’s no way anybody would buy me as a figure skater.”

  “Why not? You’re a rather sporting person.”

  Did she really need me to spell it out for her?

  “Name one black male figure skater.”

  “Well, I can’t currently name any figure skater besides those involved in our case. Can you?”

  Um, she had me there.

  “We both have a lot of research to do to get ready. We need to know more about figure skating. Of course, we must be able to skate with some competence. And then there’s our aliases.”

  Yes! I’d been waiting for this. Shelby always came up with undercover names really fast. I hadn’t yet decided what my name was going to be. I was thinking Desmond Jenkins. Or . . .

  Shelby went over to the whiteboard and flipped it around.

  On it were the names Roberta Downey and Julian Law.

  “Julian?” I groaned.

  “I was contemplating giving you the name Jude.”

  “Jude? Julian? Who would call a guy that? Those aren’t real names.”

  “I think John Lennon would disagree with you on that,” she stated flatly as she turned her back to me. “There’s no point in arguing—it’s already been done.”

  “What do you mean, ‘been done’? You signed us up for something?”

  Shelby walked back over to her computer. “What will be the very first thing some of these extremely competitive figure skaters are going to do when we show up claiming to be these skaters?”

  Oh, yeah, right. We were coming out of nowhere before a big competition.

  I looked over at Shelby’s computer. “The internet.”

  “Exactly.” Shelby typed something and then handed her laptop to me. There under the search for “Roberta Downey and Julian Law” were articles about us placing in a few competitions in central New York State. When I clicked on one of the links, I actually let out a gasp at seeing photos of Shelby and me fill the screen. Us. On an ice-skating rink. Granted you couldn’t see our entire bodies, but they looked real.

  Had I been to an ice-skating rink with Shelby?

  “How did . . .”

  “A guy owed me,” Shelby replied. Someone always owed Shelby something. But that still didn’t explain how she got those photos of me.
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br />   “Hey!” I pointed to one image of me from a few years ago. It was part of an old Christmas card of me with my parents. “How did you get that photo?”

  “From your apartment.”

  “Mom didn’t mention you needed photos.”

  “Nobody was home.”

  Wait a second.

  She wouldn’t.

  Of course she would! She’s Shelby Holmes! She has no boundaries!

  “Shelby, please do not tell me that you broke into our apartment.”

  Shelby shrugged like this was totally normal behavior. “I was on a tight deadline and required these essential pieces for our investigation. I didn’t steal anything. You or your mother would’ve given me what I needed if you were home. I couldn’t help it if you were both absent when I required your assistance. No need to throw a fit about it. Everything was put exactly where I left it. Now, moving on.”

  Unbelievable. I mean, truly, truly unbelievable.

  (I really wanted to try out that death spiral now. Maybe if Shelby got dropped on her head she wouldn’t think that I was the one being irrational.)

  “Tonight, study up on skaters and skating lingo. That should pass us off tomorrow, then this weekend we need to work on our skating.”

  “Fine.” I gave in. There was no reasoning with her. I put the Rollerblades on while I sat on her bed. I then carefully stood up. My legs wobbled a bit and my arms were flailing around before I finally found my center of gravity.

  “We don’t need to be experts, we simply need to try to not fall on our faces,” Shelby said precisely as I lost my balance and fell forward.

  Being a figure skater was easier said than done.

  My name is Julian Law. I am a figure skater. My partner is Roberta Downey.

  My new details kept repeating in my head as Shelby and I took the subway down to Chelsea Piers after school on Friday. I’d heard of Chelsea Piers since it’s this huge sports and entertainment complex in New York. I’d been waiting to finally go. Got to admit, never thought I’d be visiting it for the first time to go figure skating.

  Shelby spent most of the ride with her head in her ginormous purple backpack. Once she finally sat up, I noticed that she had some makeup on and was somehow able to get her unruly hair in a bun. She had already changed out of her Harlem Academy clothing and into leggings and a fleece. Now, dressing like an athlete was something I knew about, but Shelby wasn’t that impressed by my black nylon track pants and sweatshirt. We were not skating today (luckily!). Just talking. Not like I had any idea how I’d be able to skate by Monday. I couldn’t go more than two feet in Rollerblades without falling down.

  Once we got off the subway, we walked the four long city blocks to Chelsea Piers. We had to make our way through a parking garage to the elevators to take us up to the Sky Rink. As soon as the elevator doors opened, we were bombarded by noise. The reception desk, rentals, concession stand, and pro shop had lines of people.

  “Over here,” Shelby said as we made our way past the glass door.

  There were two huge rinks side by side. Along the length of the rinks were benches for people to watch, while the opposite side overlooked the Hudson River and New Jersey. Above us were a bunch of championship banners that hung from huge green metal rafters. It was pretty cool. And by cool, I meant it was pretty awesome, but also freezing. Good thing I brought gloves. And a scarf.

  One of the rinks was packed with skaters fumbling around. The other was empty, save for Tatiana and one other skater.

  “That’s Jordan.”

  Jordan was gliding seamlessly over the ice. Tatiana was skating beside her as she talked. Jordan nodded with a fierce look before gathering speed as she skated backward. She leaped in the air and twirled around for a few seconds—it was crazy. As her foot landed on the blade, she was off balance and fell.

  Ouch.

  Jordan got up and started skating even faster. Tatiana was trying to calm her down, but Jordan skated past her. She jumped again and fell.

  How could one piece of paper mess with an athlete’s head so much?

  Tatiana noticed us hovering, but turned her focus back on Jordan. As I looked around the rink, I noticed that everybody’s eyes were on Jordan. I couldn’t blame them. Even with the falls, she was still the best skater in the room. Tatiana skated over to Jordan and put her arms around her. Tatiana leaned in and talked to her for a few seconds. Jordan nodded and forced a smile. Then they both skated toward us and exited the rink.

  “We go to office and talk, yes?” Tatiana said to us as she attempted to clear a way for Jordan. There were people hovering trying to get pictures with her. A few even asked for Jordan’s autograph.

  (It was just hitting me that our new client was big time. Big Time.)

  We headed into a hallway and went into a small office with two desks right next to each other. Photos of Jordan and Douglas, along with a couple other skaters, lined the wall.

  “Too many people. This is why we practice when rink closed,” Tatiana remarked once we were inside.

  “But I need more practice. Clearly,” Jordan replied as she sat down.

  “You sit,” Tatiana ordered us as Shelby extended her hand to Jordan.

  “Roberta Downey and this is my partner, Julian Law. It’s such a pleasure to meet you.” Shelby used the high cooing voice she preferred for when she’s undercover. Her eyes were wide and her usual scowl had been replaced with a warm smile.

  “Hi, I’m Jordan.” Jordan shook both of our hands. While she put on a friendly demeanor, there was sadness in her eyes.

  “Yes, we know,” Shelby said with a laugh. “Of course, we know. Big fans.”

  “Thanks. I’m sorry you had to see that skating.” She shuddered for a quick moment.

  “Nonsense!” Tatiana exclaimed as she put her hands lightly on Jordan’s shoulders. “Everybody has off days. You skated beautifully.” Her voice was soft, comforting.

  Jordan sighed, and turned away from her coach. “So you’re new to the rink.”

  “Yes.” Shelby perked up. “We’re originally from Syracuse, but realized in order to get to the next level, we needed to move to a coach with more substance and experience.”

  “Well, Tatiana is the best. She’s been with me almost my entire life. You couldn’t be in better hands.” There was a genuine affection between them. I shouldn’t have been surprised. Tatiana was so concerned about Jordan that she contacted us. Then to my horror, Jordan focused on me. “So, Julian, how long have you been skating?”

  It was then that I realized I hadn’t said one word since we arrived.

  I can do this. My name is Julian Law. I am a figure skater.

  “Oh, yeah. Um, since I was little.”

  Scratch that: my name is John Watson and I need more practice with this undercover stuff. Hey, at least I didn’t tell her the truth: I haven’t ice-skated yet, but if falling when rollerblading counted, I was a total pro.

  “So!” Shelby pulled her chair closer to Jordan and leaned in like they were good friends. “We’ve never shared the ice with other skaters. Can you give us the scoop? I only know them from their skating reputations. Does everybody get along?”

  Jordan nodded. “Yeah. I’ve known Douglas my whole life. We go to the rink together every morning and share the same tutor. He’s been really supportive of my decision to go solo. He’s a great guy. His new partner, Belle, is perfect for him. They’re really great. I mean, I’m sure you guys are great.”

  Shelby laughed and I don’t know how she did it, but she blushed. Could people blush on command?

  Let me tell you, Shelby and I were great at many things, but skating wasn’t going to be one.

  “Doesn’t Sergi have another skater?” Shelby prodded.

  Jordan’s mouth tightened. “Yes. Aisha.”

  Oh, who was this Aisha person? She seemed like bad news.

  There was a knock on the door. Tatiana opened it to find Sergi Petrov. I recognized him from the photos Shelby showed me yesterday, although
he was a little older. His white skin sported a few more wrinkles and his short black hair was gray around his temples. He wore a nylon Olympic jacket and paused when he saw us in the room.

  “Oh, hello.” He glanced at Shelby and me. “These your new skaters.”

  “Da,” Tatiana replied. “This, um. . .” (Nice to know I wasn’t the only one who had trouble with remembering aliases.)

  Shelby stood up and held out her hand. “Roberta Downey and Julian Law, Mr. Petrov. Pleasure to meet you.”

  He took a step back and looked us both up and down. I sat up a bit straighter, wondering if he could figure out I wasn’t a real skater by how I sat. I mean it’s not that far-fetched—look what Shelby could do!

  Sergi nodded. “Yes. You were impressive at the Carrier Dome Classic.”

  WE WERE WHAT?

  “Thank you. It was one of our best performances,” Shelby replied, while I tried to pick my jaw up from the floor.

  The Carrier Dome what? Okay, I knew the Carrier Dome was in Syracuse. That’s where our aliases were from. So . . . ​ Oh wow. Wow. Sergi researched us on the internet. Just like Shelby suspected.

  “Well, yes.” He cleared his throat as he looked at Tatiana. He placed a brown paper bag on her desk. “Is medovik. I had extra and thought . . .”

  Tatiana picked up the bag with two fingers as if it was dangerous. “No sugar. You know this.”

  Shelby perked up. “I’d love to try Russian honey cake.”

  Jordan’s eyes got wide. “You eat desserts?”

  “Only every once in a while as a treat,” Shelby replied.

  WHAT WAS GOING ON? There hasn’t been a dessert that Shelby has ever turned down. EVER.

  Sergi took back the bag and gave us a nod before leaving.

  Hmm. So Sergi already did research on us and was still bringing his ex-wife treats. Although he knew she didn’t eat sugar, so maybe he was trying to sabotage her. Either way, it was pretty suspicious behavior if you asked me.

  “What wonderful team spirit,” Shelby remarked after Sergi left. I knew what she was doing: she was hoping someone was going to say something bad about him.