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in on the latest website hits.
    â€œThat guy who’s been e–mailing Starr wrote today saying he wants to meet her. He says he lives in Hanover! Jimmy, it could be him, the killer! ‘Starr’ agreed to meet him after school tomorrow— at Starbucks by the mall. The one in Barnes and Noble. Around 4:00.”
    â€œNo way, man.” Suddenly all this detective work made me queasy. “We’re going to get caught, or be arrested or worse.”
    â€œOr catch the murderer. He won’t know it’s us. Remember, he’s looking for some girl. Your sister, but with big hooters.”
    I shook my head. “I don’t know. Now this seems crazy.”
    â€œWe’ve got to go through with it, Jimmy. We could catch the killer and get the boyfriend off the hook,” Paul told me.
    â€œWhat if he starts shooting or something?”
    â€œFor what, because his latte is too hot? He’ll just leave if Starr doesn’t show up. And we won’t be there if you chicken out.”
    I thought about it and decided we could end up famous. Maybe I’d even be popular for a change. “Okay, I’m in.”
    Thursday, 10–12
    Please Don’t Read This Page
    Paul is such a doofus. He almost got us killed today. In case you really are reading this, if you tell anybody about what happened, you will be the cause of my death.
    You may have noticed I was not paying attention like I usually do. All I could think of all day was the big meeting with the killer. The guy e–mailed Starr that he would be wearing a Sea World baseball hat. That should have been clue number one. I mean, would a murderer wear a hat with Shamu on it?
    Anyway, after school, Paul and I rode our bikes to the Barnes and Noble where Starbucks is—we got there half an hour early, so we could sit in the back. We took some homework and bought drinks so it would look like we were really doing something. Our plan was to wait for him to order coffee. We figured he’d drink his coffee and wait; then when no one showed up, he’d leave. That’s when we’d take his cup and give it to the police to see if his fingerprints matched those from the murder scene. Paul brought his dad’s digital camera. I’d stand near the guy and Paul would act like he was taking my picture, but really take his. We were ready.
    Here’s what actually happened. We parked our bikes out front in case we had to make a quick getaway. I ordered an iced caramelmacchiato and Paul got a white chocolate mocha. We sat way in the back so we could watch the door without being noticed. Paul about drove me crazy fooling with the camera. The flash kept going off and the people trying to read and talk got mad at us. After about a half hour, a few girls walked in, giggling. They looked like some of my sister’s friends, but I couldn’t be sure. Then some guys came in, but none had on the right hat. I was so busy looking at their hats I didn’t realize that one of the guys was Danny Miller. I started to get nervous. Really nervous.
    â€œCalm down, dude,” Paul said. “He’s not wearing the hat, is he?”
    Then we saw it. A hat with a big Sea World logo on it. Some guy from school. The one my sister has a big crush on. Then I saw my sister peeking in the window. She waited a few seconds, and then she opened the door and walked in.
    â€œOh, crap!” I whispered loudly. “It’s Jessica. Let’s get out of here.” I spun around in my chair before she saw me.
    â€œThere’s only one way out, nitwit, and that’s through the front door.”
    My sister and her friends were looking around for a place to sit. “Quick, let’s hide in the bathroom,” I said. We grabbed our books and drinks and, keeping our heads down, snaked our way to the back of the bookstore.
    â€œThis sucks,” said Paul after he was safe inside his stall. “Why can’t we hide in the books