Free Madhattan Mystery by John J. Bonk Page B

Even though it was over ninety degrees outside, the woman was wrapped in a blanket and wearing a thick nubby ski cap.
    What babies?
Lexi wondered. The woman looked way too old to have babies. There was a stroller next to her but it was loaded with giant plastic bags of what looked likeempty soda cans. Lexi took a few steps closer and spied a striped paw.
Awww
. A pair of cats was on the blanket, snuggled tightly as two puzzle pieces.
    â€œC’mon, hang tough,” Kim Ling said. “You can’t let these panhandlers get to you or they’ll suck you dry. And we’re walking—and we’re walking …”
    â€œJust this once.” Lexi figured with the run of bad luck she was having, a random act of kindness couldn’t hurt. So, in spite of Kim Ling tugging her arm halfway out of its socket, she dropped a quarter into the cup—and a pack of sugarless gum.
    The old woman smiled up at her with the kindest expression. “Pretty hair.”
    â€œWhat? Oh. Thank you so much.”
    The momentary high Lexi got from the unexpected compliment plummeted the second she stepped foot into the train terminal. And by the time she, Kevin, and Kim Ling had reached the service window of the Lost and Found Department, a dreary room lined with endless metal shelves of gray plastic bins, her head was spinning. It happened to be on the same lower level as the deep-fried-smelling dining concourse and the Whispering Gallery—a recipe for nausea. Lexi twisted her opal nine times for luck while she peered through the window, watching a portly man search through a rainbow of wallets strewn across a table. According to his nametag, he was Burl T. Gibbs.
    â€œDon’t see no pink ones right off, but we’ve got a ton. Over half a million people pass through the terminal on any given day and that’s a fact. Oh, hold on now.” He held up a sparkly dolphin-shaped coin purse with jiggly eyes, looking hopeful. “This it?”
    â€œUh, no,” Lexi said, embarrassed he could think such a thing.
    â€œI’ll bet you get all kinds of bizarre stuff in here, huh?” Kim Ling was craning her neck to see inside the room. “Ever get, like, a glass eye—or a live ferret?”
    â€œOr ancient Egyptian jewelry?” Lexi asked with a curious glance.
    Kim Ling swatted her.
    â€œCan’t say that I have. But one lady left her dead husband’s ashes in a pickle jar on a train once.” He looked up, scratching his bristly chin. His bushy white eyebrows danced over his half-glasses like two white caterpillars. “And just last week we found a pair of dentures in the terminal.”
    â€œGross!” Kevin said. “For real?”
    â€œYou can’t make this stuff up.”
    Lexi blocked out the conversation. The last thing she wanted to hear was stories about trains—and death.
And why do they have to call it a terminal anyway? Such a depressing word
. She kept checking over her shoulder for any signs of the jewel thieves, even though it was a little farfetched to think they would still be hanging out in thestation, especially if they had already carried out their plot. Still, her brain kept replaying their whispered conversation over and over again, like a Disney DVD.
    â€œA real human ear?” Kevin’s voice cut through. “No way!”
    â€œSome plastic surgeon from Westchester left it on a Metro North. We never did find out if it wound up on the patient’s head or shriveled up like an old potato chip.”
    â€œEw!” Lexi blurted. “Okay, I think we’re done here. I hate to say it, but I think my wallet’s gone for good.”
    â€œI hate to say it,” Kim Ling echoed, “but I think you’re right.”
    â€œWell, you kids keep on your toes, you hear? Lots of sticky fingers in this town.” Mr. Gibbs knocked all of the wallets back into their plastic bin with a single arm swipe. “Feel free to come