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four.”
    A minute later, Bub opened the door for us and bowed. “
Bienvenue
, Madame, Mess-yer. Zee potage of zee day eez vee-shee-swaz.” He was speaking in a French accent that even I knew was a bad French accent. It cracked us up. “Zat just means zee zoup de po-tay-toe. Eet’s zupposed to be cold, but who likes zee cold zoup? I serve my vee-shee-swaz fresh from zee stove.”
    â€œSounds great,” I said, “Mess-yer.”
    Bub brought Yasmeen and me bowls of white soup sprinkled with flakes of green stuff. Officer Krichels was just getting ready to leave.
    â€œCan we ask you something?” I asked him.
    â€œYour mom told me you were interested in the missing cats,” he said. “It’s a bad time of year for it, you know. Better keep a close eye on Luau.”
    Yasmeen said, “Did you notice anything odd about Kyle, the kid you talked to on Groundhog Drive?”
    Officer Krichels scratched his chin. “Can’t say I did. Kind of a Gloomy Gus, but his cat was gone, so who could blame him? Now, that pip-squeak sister o’ his,
she
was somethin’.”
    â€œDid she say anything?” Yasmeen asked.
    â€œThe pip-squeak?” said Officer Krichels. “You couldn’t shut her up! I didn’t pay much attention on account of how she wasn’t a credible witness. That means someone you can believe.”
    Officer Krichels is nice, but he treats all kids like they’re two years old. Sometimes, like now, Yasmeen gets impatient.
    â€œI
know
what a credible witness is,” she said. “Do you remember
anything
the little sister told you?”
    Officer Krichels had his hand on Bub’s door-knob. “Bunch o’ nonsense. Something about how her rotten big brother tortured the cat. . . .” Officer Krichels shrugged. “You know siblings—they’re always out to get each other.”
    Officer Krichels saluted Bub. “Great soup today, like always.”
    Bub was sitting at the table with us, his hands clasped over his belly. He nodded at his friend, “See ya tomorrow. I’m thinkin’ black bean.”
    The instant the door closed, Yasmeen burst.
“I cannot believe him!”
    â€œYasmeen,”
I said, warning her.
    But Bub just laughed. “One of the sweetest guys I know,” he said, “but genius is not one of his attributes.”
    â€œI suppose now we should talk to Kyle’s little sister,” I said, “to Cammie.”
    Yasmeen picked up her soup bowl and gulped the last bit. “I don’t see how we can do that,” she said, “without Kyle finding out we’re still detecting.”
    It was getting close to four. Yasmeen went to call her dad and ask if she could go with Dad and me to the Harvey house to get pumpkins. I told Bub the whole story, and to my surprise he picked up right away on something my mom had mentioned.
    â€œRansom note,” he repeated. “I bet you dollars to doughnuts Kyle got a ransom note.It happens all the time in books. The detectives are working their tails off, and suddenly whoever it was hired ’em calls and tells ’em to quit. In this case, the catnapper told Kyle not to try to find his cat, just pay the money. That’s why Kyle talked to you today. That’s why he looked so scared.”

Chapter Thirteen

    Mr. and Mrs. Blanco must have worked really hard to fix up the Harvey house because it hardly even looked haunted anymore. The paint was fresh, and the twisted rungs of the black metal fence by the sidewalk had been straightened out. All the little frame-doodads around the porch and windows had been repaired and nailed back into place. From the sidewalk I could see for the first time that this pretty much used to be a mansion compared with the other houses on Main Street. I guess it was built by somebody rich.
    Yasmeen, my dad, and I opened the gate—whichdidn’t even squeak—and walked