The Mystery of the Third Lucretia by Susan Runholt

dustbin) out by his garden shed and opened Robert’s windows to make sure we got rid of the paint smell.
    And that was that. It made me depressed. It was like we were saying good-bye to our whole adventure in London, and absolutely nothing had come of it. I wished we could just go home and I could forget about the whole thing. Instead, we were stuck there for three more days.
    What I didn’t know was that some of the most important parts of our London adventure were still to come.
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    On Sunday we took a drive in the English countryside. But on Monday it was pouring down rain and the forecast said it would probably rain all day. The last thing Mom had to do before we left on Wednesday was another “London Looks,” which she wanted to do outdoors if possible, so she decided to take the day off.
    It was Mom’s choice about what to do, because she hadn’t had any time to sightsee. Guess where she wanted to go.
    The National Gallery.
    â€œGreat,” Lucas said when she and I went back up to our loft. “We get to go back and see all those paintings we’ve seen a billion times.”
    â€œWe could give her our own guided tour,” I said.
    â€œI could even give her a guided tour in French,” Lucas responded, with a dry look.
    â€œMaybe we can go back to the women’s loo in the education section, just for old time’s sake.”
    â€œSpray a little air freshener.” That one got me giggling.
    â€œYou know, this won’t be the first time we’ve gone through the National Gallery with a grown-up. But it will be the first time we’ve gone with a grown-up who’s ever laid eyes on us before,” I said, and now Lucas was giggling, too.
    â€œI might have to fight an uncontrollable urge to run into the restroom and change my clothes,” she added.
    By this time we were laughing hysterically. After we’d gotten control of ourselves, I said, “I bet Gallery Guy’s gone. He was almost finished with what he was doing, and I bet he’s left town.”
    â€œWe’ll have to at least sneak a peek.”
    For a second I thought about telling Lucas I didn’t want to even go back and peek into the Rembrandt room. But then I realized that even if Gallery Guy was still there and saw us and recognized Lucas, there was nothing he could really do to us in the middle of a museum, especially with Mom there. I have to admit, having her around made me feel safer.
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    Mom is way more serious about looking at art than we are, and besides, she knew we’d already visited the museum. So we told her we wanted to go around on our own, and we’d meet her later in the cafeteria. As soon as we made sure she’d started on a whole other part of the museum, we wandered away to the Rembrandt room.
    We took the roundabout way and ended up in Gallery 24, where we’d waited out of Bert’s sight on our first day spying on Gallery Guy. Standing back and looking through the doorway, we weren’t surprised to see Gallery Guy’s usual spot empty. That was a relief.
    â€œWell, we don’t have to hide anymore,” Lucas said, and walked through the Rembrandt room toward the door to Gallery 22. And surprise surprise, somebody besides Bert was standing guard.
    â€œWonder what’s up with Bert today,” Lucas muttered.
    â€œMaybe he has a cold or something.”
    â€œOr maybe they moved him to another gallery. Let’s ask,” she said, and before I could comment, she’d walked straight up to the new guard.
    â€œHow can I help you?” the guard said. He was short and wiry, with red cheeks and bright blue eyes, and he had a really big accent.
    â€œWe were wondering about Bert, the guard who’s usually here. Is he absent today?” Lucas asked.
    The guard suddenly looked very serious. “How did you know old Bert? He wasn’t your uncle or nothing, was he?”
    â€œNo, we don’t