Free Andi Unexpected by Amanda Flower Page A

nodded.
    Colin sneezed.
    “Then do come in. I’ve thought a lot about your little mystery over the last few days.”
    We sat in Number Three’s old office munching on Mr. Finnigan’s private stash of Double Stuf Oreos. Mr. Finnigan made himself comfortable behind the former ginger ale tycoon’s desk, and looked at the photograph of Baby Andora with a magnifying glass.
    “This is an original print,” he said. “I can tell by the weight of the paper and its general condition.”
    I dusted Oreo crumbs from my mouth. “We couldn’t find any record of her death in the attic or online. And from Bergita’s story, it sounds like my family kept her a secret until she vanished. How could a baby just disappear?”
    I held back the next question that ran through my head.
How could my family let their baby disappear?
    Mr. Finnigan set the magnifying glass on the mahogany desk. “Times were tough back then. Really tough. But you’re right. I don’t know how a child, especially one born in such a small community, could simply vanish. I’m sorry. I can’t offer any suggestions. This truly is a mystery.” Mr. Finnigan thumbed the photograph of Andora. “Do you mind if I hang on to this to help me with the search?”
    “Do you think it will help? Can you match it with some pictures in the archives?” Colin asked.
    “Maybe,” Mr. Finnigan said with a slight catch in his voice.
    I looked at the photo in his hand, the only likeness of Andora that I had. “I’d like to keep it with me for now.”
    Reluctantly, Mr Finnigan handed the photograph back to me. I stowed it between the pages of the casebook inside my mini backpack.
    The bike ride home wasn’t nearly as enthusiastic as the ride to the museum had been. My legs felt heavy with disappointment, and my eyes passed right over the neighborhood sights. Colin was quiet as we pedaled past Killdeer Middle School, and my mind went back to Andora, the trunk, the elephant block, and her photograph that Mr. Finnigan wanted to keep.
    Colin stopped suddenly. I swerved sharply and just missed his back tire.
    “Hey!” I said. “What are you doing?”
    Colin ignored my protest. “I’ve got it!”
    My heart thumped. “You’ve got what?”
    “I know just what we need. We need someone old—someone who was alive in the 1930s, at the same time as Andora.”
    “That would be nice, but they’d have to be pretty old now.”
    “I know just the person.” He hopped back onto his bike seat. “Let’s go. We need to get home so you can ask Amelie if you can go to church with me tomorrow.”
    “Ask her what?”
    But he was already pedaling away.

CASE FILE NO. 11
    Our bike tires spit white gravel into the front lawn. Bergita stood on the Carters’ porch with her hands on her hips. “Colin Carter, you get over here right now.”
    “What did I do?” he asked.
    “I told you this morning that your parents would be here for dinner tonight. Now hurry up and get ready.”
    “I’m sorry, I forgot. Andi and I were—”
    “You can tell me what you two were up to later. You know they hate to be kept waiting. They both work third-shift rounds at the hospital tonight.”
    Colin looked at me. “I gotta go. Can you ask Amelie about church?”
    “Why?”
    “Colin!” Bergita called.
    “I know someone there who might know Andora. Just ask, okay?”
    He rolled his bike across the Carters’ front lawn.
    “I’ll ask!” I called after him.
    I found Amelie and Bethany in the kitchen. My aunt smiled. “You’re just in time for dinner. How does frozen pizza sound?”
    “Amelie, you might want to learn how to cook now that you’re raising two kids,” Bethany said. But there wasn’t the typical edge in her voice. In fact, I could be wrong, but I thought my sister might be teasing our aunt.
    I plopped down on a stool at the kitchen island. It’s where we always ate our meals because Amelie had turned Grandma’s dining room into a study.
    Amelie must have also noticed Bethany’s light