Free Edison's Gold by Geoff Watson

vu,” remarked Colby as they tiptoed down the hallway.
    The floorboards creaked under the weight of their shoes.
    â€œThis place is so super old,” whispered Noodle.
    â€œIt even smells old,” Colby added. “Don’t you think it’s kinda weird to convert a house like this into a pet store? It looks nothing like the ones you see at the mall.”
    â€œMall pet shops are depressing,” said Noodle. “At night, everyone leaves—”
    â€œWhat don’t you two understand about
shh
?” Tom put a finger to his lips as the corridor opened up into a side room, sandbagged on one end with floor-to-ceiling feed and cedar-chip bags, as well as stacked cages of snakes and lizards.
    It was lit only by the indirect sunlight through a large window that faced out onto the street. The view was of the Ebbets Field Apartments, but there was no way to know for sure if this was the same room where Firestone’s photo had been taken all those years ago.
    Until Noodle glanced up at the ceiling rafters and sawthe intricate painted pattern of family crests and fleurs-de-lis above their heads.
    â€œThis is it, you guys!” He pointed toward the ceiling. “This is the spot!”
    â€œSay it a little louder. They might not have heard you back in Yonkers.” But as Tom stepped back to get a better look at the rafters, it was clear Noodle was right.
    Tom reached into his backpack to grab the notebook where he’d put the Firestone photo and held it up in front of their faces, trying to position the picture in the exact spot where the old man would have been sitting.
    From this angle, with the window behind him … “Firestone’s definitely pointing toward that far wall,” said Tom.
    â€œTotally. His hand’s all stiff and posed.” In the air, Colby traced the arc of his finger.
    Whatever Firestone was trying to show us
, Tom thought.
It had to be located behind those cages of—
    â€œLizards!” Noodle shouted. “He’s pointing behind the lizard cages!”
    â€œWill you stop screaming like that? Someone’s gonna
—arghhh
!” Tom jumped, slapping the back of his neck, where something very sharp had bitten him.
    Dustbuster in one hand, lettuce-green parrot on her opposite shoulder, an old woman had crept up on them silently. Woman and parrot were now staring at the three kids with similar, unblinking eyes.
    â€œHey!” Tom rubbed the sore spot. “Your parrot bit me.”
    â€œYoo-Hoo is my security system,” the old woman snapped. “Never met a neck he didn’t like. I’m Mitzi.”
    Tom had never seen anyone like Mitzi. She was taller than most men, with multiple gray, frizzy braids hanging down her back, and just as many stacks of clattering plastic bracelets weighting both arms.
    Clankingly, she pointed at Tom, Colby, and Noodle in turn. “Australian shepherd, American bobtail cat, and”—her finger hovered over Noodle’s head like a divining rod—“praying mantis.”
    â€œIs that a riddle we have to solve so you won’t, um, broil us?” inquired Colby.
    â€œThose are your animal counterparts,” the woman answered. “If this were a magical world, they’d be your familiars. Unfortunately, we’re in Brooklyn. You’re here to find a pet?”
    â€œWhat about me screams
praying mantis
to you?” Noodle sounded half offended, half curious.
    Tom offered Mitzi what he hoped was his most charming smile. “Maybe we’ll get Noodle a praying mantis next time. See, my friend here wants a dog. Really, really bad. And he heard you made the best pet connections in all the boroughs.” He slung an arm over Noodle’s shoulders, then pivoted him in Mitzi’s direction. “Work with me,” he whispered in his friend’s ear.
    â€œYou heard that right.” Mitzi arched her brows. “But you won’t find a dog in the