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from behind. “Danger is story.”
    No, Chloe wanted to correct her friend. Danger is danger. It’s not story.
    Blake went on ruminating. “What if asking too many questions of the wrong people puts them in mortal danger?”
    Is there any other kind, Chloe wanted to ask but didn’t.
    â€œSomeone must shut them up. But who?”
    â€œObviously the one who separated the head from the body. I really think we got us something here, Haiku, right?”
    â€œI say keep working on it.” Chloe used her most discouraging tone.
    â€œWait! I got it!” Blake got (more) excited. In so many ways he was much like the German Shepherd he’d once owned. Insuppressible. “Instead of a head, what if they find a suitcase? Yes, a mysterious suitcase! It’s blue. Oh my God, I got it. That’s my story.” Blake stopped and turned to the girls, his whole face flushed and thrilled. “ The Blue Suitcase. What do you think? It’s flipping awesome is what you think!”
    Hannah smiled approvingly. Chloe caught herself shrugging.“It’s a good title for a mystery,” she said. “Is that what you’re writing? A title is important, but it’s not everything. What’s in the suitcase? Once you figure that out, then you’ll have yourself a story.”
    Blake laughed with his characteristic lack of concern for details. He was a big-picture guy. “James Bond always goes to a foreign country to solve mysteries and catch the bad guys,” he said. “Some fantastic exotic locale full of drink and women.”
    Chloe made a real effort not to rub her forehead. “James Bond is a government spy. He kills for money. He doesn’t rummage through the trash for severed heads.”
    â€œForeign country!” Mason said. “Blake, you’re a genius.”
    Blake’s entire peacock tail opened up in kaleidoscope green.
    â€œBut wait,” Mason said. “How can we write about it? We’ve never been to another country.”
    Blake blocked the girls’ way, beaming at them. “Well, not yet,” he said.
    The girls remained impassive. Only Chloe twitched slightly. Oh no! He doesn’t mean . . .
    â€œWe’ll go to Europe with you,” he blurted. “Mason’s right, I am a genius. The answer to our mysterious suitcase is in Europe with you. Oh man, this is fantastic. And we’ve only been at it for five minutes. Imagine how good it’ll be when we spend a few days on it.” Blake thumped his flannel chest. “We could win the book prize.”
    â€œWhat book prize would that be, Blake?” Chloe said.
    â€œI don’t know, Chloe.” He mimicked her. “The prize they give the best book of the year. The Oscar for books. The Grammy, the Emmy.”
    â€œUm, the Pulitzer?”
    â€œWhatever. That’s not the important part. To write something people will love, that’s the important part.”
    Chloe leaned into Hannah. “Did your crazy boyfriend just say he wants to go to Europe with us?”
    â€œI’m sure that can’t be right,” Hannah, suddenly frazzled-looking, whispered back.
    Blake pulled Hannah away from Chloe. “When are you two flying to Barcelona?”
    â€œI don’t know,” Hannah mumbled. “Chloe, when are we flying?”
    â€œI don’t know,” Chloe mumbled.
    â€œMason, that’s where we go, bro. Barcelona! Our story will climax there.” Blake laughed. The brothers high fived and bumped shoulders.
    â€œI thought you said it wasn’t that kind of story,” Chloe said.
    â€œIf it ends in Barcelona, Haiku, it’ll have to be a story for all seasons, won’t it? Isn’t that where they have the running of the bulls?”
    â€œOh dear God. No. That’s Pamplona.”
    â€œBlake,” Hannah said, “you’re not seriously thinking of coming with us?”
    â€œWe’re done