enough to contain a human body. And he threw it over his shoulder to carry it in."
"So what?" Simon said.
"So it's suspicious."
"Who saw it?" Simon asked.
Branden waved his hand. "Sources."
"Why would Irina's grandfather take David's body?" Simon asked. "What could he possibly want it for?"
"You're just mad because you didn't find out first," Branden replied.
"No, I just think it's ridiculous," Simon said. "And you didn't answer my question. What would he want with David's body?"
Branden shrugged. "How do I know why he took the body? And get this—"
He glanced around the cafeteria and then leaned forward. "The servants at the Neverov house say that the grandfather sleeps in the basement behind a locked door every night."
"The servants?" Simon said scornfully. "Irina's family doesn't have 'servants.'"
"Fine," Branden said. "The staff—or whatever you want to call them. But the guy sleeps in a locked room in the basement—and it's all the way at the back of the house. That's weird. The staff thinks it's weird. They think he's weird, too. Sources say that they're afraid of him."
"There are those 'sources' again," Simon said. "You don't really know if any of this is true. And even if it is, who cares where he sleeps?"
"Why is he in the basement?" Branden said. "Why is the door locked? What's he up to in there? I'll tell you what—nothing good."
Simon simply shook his head.
"And you know what else?" Branden said.
"No," Simon replied. "But I'm afraid you're going to tell me."
Branden pressed on, undaunted. "There's been a rash of bicycle thefts lately."
"Bicycle thefts," Simon said.
"Yes. Thieves have been going around spraying liquid nitrogen on the locks and then just smashing them. It works way better than a pick or a saw. Anyway, some bikes were left here at the school last night and—"
Simon interrupted. "There are always bikes left here overnight."
"Yeah, well, they weren't here this morning. The locks were frozen with liquid nitrogen and then shattered. There were shards of broken locks all over the place where the bikes used to be. The cops think there's a ring of thieves behind the whole thing. And do you know who's behind the ring?"
"Well, you seem to know a lot about it," Simon said.
"I was looking for a serious answer," Branden replied with dignity.
"I suppose you want me to say Irina's grandfather," Simon said. "But that's ridiculous. I don't believe for thirty seconds that he's going around town stealing bicycles."
"Maybe he isn't," Branden said. "But I bet he knows who is." He took a big bite of his sandwich. "Russian mob, I'm telling you."
Simon and Branden continued to argue, and I was left to think over what I'd heard—apparently, I wasn't the only one in town who had suspicions of Maksim Neverov.
I couldn't wait for the day to end so I could see William and tell him what I'd found out.
When the final bell of the day rang, I hurried out into the schoolyard, and I soon found William walking by my side.
"Do you have any news for me?" I asked.
"I do."
"I have news for you, too," I said.
I told him about where the necklace had come from—and about Maksim, the suspiciously sized bag, and the basement.
William frowned. "The thing about the bag isn't really evidence—it may not be true. And even if it is, there may be a perfectly innocent explanation. Did anyone actually see what was in the bag?"
"Not so far as I know," I said. "But the thing about the necklace is true. And you have to admit that it's weird for the Neverovs to have a relic of the Werdulac's."
"I don't know that the necklace ever actually belonged to the Werdulac," William said. "But it is of his era. And yes, it is strange for the Neverovs to have had it in their possession. At the same time they may have come by it innocently—and apparently they didn't want to keep it. They did give it away as a prize for a carnival. That makes it seem like they didn't know what it was."
"Fine," I said. "We'll say for the sake of argument that it's possible those things are coincidental. But what about Maksim's sleeping in a locked room in the basement at night?"
William shook his head. "Again, that could just be a rumor. And even if it is true, it doesn't point to anything I know of. It would be more suspicious if he was sleeping in a locked room during the day. We both know what that would indicate."
"Yes, we do," I