The sun was going down when they pulled into the garage at Mr. Hopkins’s apartment. A cool breeze blew in from the ocean.

  They ate dinner at a restaurant named Big Steaks. It had an outdoor patio with a colorful awning and lots of flowers.

  “I feel like the Dodger is watching us,” Mike whispered to Kate halfway through dinner.

  “I know, but I don’t see him anywhere,” Kate replied. “Maybe he’s taking some time off to eat, too!”

  After dinner, Kate, Mike, and Kate’s dad walked to the pier to try the rides.

  The lights were just coming on when they reached the bumper cars. Mike handed the attendant their ride tickets and scrambled into car number three. Kate grabbed car number seven and buckled herself in.

  The buzzer sounded, and the ride started. Kate rammed her car straight into Mike’s. A sharp metallic smell filled the air. Small sparks flew from the top of the power poles at the back of the cars as Kate and Mike chased each other around the oval course. Mike had just chased Kate down when the cars slid to a stop.

  “Not fast enough to catch up to me, are you?” Kate taunted Mike. She jumped out of her car and ran back to her father. Just as Mike reached them, a flash of pink caught his eye.

  “Cotton candy!” Mike cried. He pointed to a small stand on the other side of the pier. “Can I have some? I saved room for dessert.”

  “You always save room for dessert,” Kate said.

  “Sure,” said Mr. Hopkins. They walked over to the stand. Mike and Kate each took a soft white paper cone piled high with the sticky, sugary candy. In no time, Mike’s mouth was flecked with gooey strands. Kate was pulling off clouds of the pink candy and neatly popping them in her mouth. She scanned the crowds for the Dodger but didn’t see him.

  “Thanks, Dad!” Kate said as they headed to the apartment. “That was a really fun day.” Now that the sun was gone, the night was getting cooler. Kate was happy to be going back to the warmth of her father’s apartment.

  Once they reached the apartment building, Mike opened the door and bounded up the stairs to the second floor. He turned right and raced down the hall toward Mr. Hopkins’s apartment.

  But he stopped a few feet before he reached it. “Guys! Come quick!” he called. Kate and her dad had just stepped out of the stairway. They jogged down the hallway to Mike.

  The door to Mr. Hopkins’s apartment was wide open!

  “You kids wait here,” Mr. Hopkins said. “I’ll go in and check it out.” He disappeared into the apartment. Mike and Kate waited outside.

  Kate leaned over to look at the door frame. “See those scratches around the doorknob?” she asked. “I’ll bet the Dodger forced the door open with a screwdriver or crowbar or something. That’s why we didn’t see him at the restaurant or pier. He must have known we’d be at dinner and broke in!”

  “Everything’s safe. You can come in,” Kate’s father called.

  Mike and Kate went into the apartment. Mr. Hopkins was standing in the middle of the living room. Mike could see that the stuff on his desk had been moved around.

  “Nothing’s stolen, but they did go through all my papers,” Mr. Hopkins said. He brushed his hair back from his forehead and mopped his brow with the back of his hand. Then he pulled the small notebook from his shirt pocket. “Luckily, they didn’t get this. If it were stolen, I might lose my job!”

  A Sticky Trap

  The next day, Kate and Mike slept late. At breakfast, there was no talk of the Dodger or the police. Mr. Hopkins seemed to have forgotten the previous night’s break-in. Kate tried to keep her father’s mind off it by asking a lot of questions about the Dodgers.

  After breakfast, Mr. Hopkins locked the door securely. They had tickets for that afternoon’s game at Dodger Stadium, but Mr. Hopkins had planned a surprise stop.

  As they drove through L.A., Mike watched the palm trees, taco stands, and car washes roll by. California looked very different from New York.

  “We’re getting close,” said Mr. Hopkins. “Want a hint to where we’re going?”

  “Yeah!” Kate said. She liked to know what was going on.

  “This is easy,” Mr. Hopkins said. “Unless you haven’t been practicing your Spanish. Try these hints. Negra. Brea.”

  Kate bit her lip and twirled her ponytail around her finger. “Hmmmm … negra means black,” she said. “I think I’ve heard brea before, but I can’t remember what it means.”

  Mr. Hopkins turned the car into a parking lot. On the other side was a large building. Next to it was a park with grass and trees. Heat simmered off the black parking area.

  “Tar!” said Kate. “Brea means tar in Spanish, right, Dad?”

  Mr. Hopkins nodded. “That’s right. Know where we are?”

  “The La Brea Tar Pits!” Mike piped up.

  Kate punched Mike’s leg. “Hey, no fair! How did you know?”

  Mike pointed out his window to a big sign. “It says it right there,” he said. “You don’t always need to know Spanish. Sometimes you just have to be able to read!”

  “Exactly,” Mr. Hopkins said. “The La Brea Tar Pits are a bunch of pools of black sticky tar. Tens of thousands of years ago, animals got caught in the tar and died. Now you can see their remains in this museum. I thought we’d have time for a quick look before the game.”

  Mike jumped out of the car before Kate could punch him a second time. For the next hour, Mike, Kate, and Mr. Hopkins explored the museum. They saw tar-covered bones of saber-toothed cats, wolves, and huge mammoths. They also visited Pit 91 in the nearby park, where black bubbles popped up from pools of slimy tar.

  Kate could have stayed for another hour, but it was time to leave for Dodger Stadium. Mike, Kate, and Mr. Hopkins had lunch in the car and arrived at the stadium half an hour before game time. After showing their tickets, they made their way to a section right behind home plate.

  “Wow! These are great seats,” Mike said. “Thanks, Uncle Steve.” He sat down in the bright yellow seat next to Kate and scanned the field for players. But batting practice had ended a short while before. The players were in the locker room getting ready.

  Mr. Hopkins took out a program. Before he started reading, he checked his pocket again to make sure the notebook was safe. It was.

  All around them, fans filed into their seats. Most wore blue Los Angeles Dodgers hats or T-shirts. But there were also a few people with San Diego Padres hats, since the Dodgers were playing the Padres. Kate was wearing her school baseball hat. It had a big white C on it for Cooperstown.

  “Psssst …” Mike felt something nudge his leg. It was Kate. “Keep an eye out for the Dodger. He’s got to be here somewhere,” she reminded him.

  Mike and Kate spent a few minutes searching for a man with a white shirt and a blue Boston Red Sox baseball cap. Neither of them spotted the Dodger.

  The loudspeaker crackled to life. “It’s time for Dodger baseball!” The fans roared. Mike and Kate stood up and cheered as the players took the field. The Dodgers pitcher quickly struck out the first San Diego batter.

  In between batters, Mr. Hopkins told Kate and Mike all about the players and their skills. As a baseball scout, he knew which players were strong hitters, which were good fielders, and which could run really fast.

  The first two innings flew by. The Dodgers had runners on first and third bases with one out in the second inning. But the Padres pitcher struck out the next two batters and the inning ended. Nobody scored in the third. It was still 0–0.

  Kate and Mike kept looking for the Dodger. After the third inning, Mike finally spotted something. He elbowed Kate.

  “What?” Kate whispered. “Do you see him?”

  “No. But I see a sign for Dodger Dogs!” Mike said. He pointed to the main concourse. “I’m hungry.”

  Kate rolled her eyes. “Oh, come on, they’re just like any other ballpark hot dogs.”

  “That means they’ll be good!” Mike said. He stood up. “Let’s go!”

  “Okay,” Kate said. “But let’s try not to miss too much of the game.” Her dad gave them some money, and they started up the stairs toward the snack stands.

  After a few steps, Mike stopped suddenly. Kate plowed straight into his back, and he almost lost his balance.

  “Hey! Watch out!” Kate said.

  Mike blushed. “Sorry,” he mumbled. Then he lowered his head and said in a whisper, “Follow me. But don’t act suspicious. Don’t look around.”

  With that, he walked quickly up the steps as if nothing had happened. Kate scrambled to keep up. She finally caught him at the hot dog stand. Mike had just ordered two hot dogs.

  “What was that about?” she asked.

  Mike’s eyes opened wide. “I saw the Dodger! He’s sitting about five rows back from us, but he’s wearing a red shirt and sunglasses today. That’s why we didn’t recognize him. But he still has the Boston hat and is carrying a black backpack.”

  Kate took a look. “You’re right,” she said. “He must be staking out my father. He’s waiting for a chance to steal that notebook.”

  Mike leaned back and tossed his baseball in his right hand. He was thinking again.

  Kate continued to watch the Dodger. “We need to come up with a plan to catch him,” she said, tapping her fingers on the railing. “Any ideas?”

  “I’ve got it!” Mike said. He tossed the baseball to his left hand. “Your notebook looks just like your dad’s, right? Maybe we can trick him into going after it. Let’s wait a few innings. Then we’ll come back here. You can hold out your notebook. The Dodger will think it’s your dad’s, and he’ll follow us!”

  “I like it,” Kate said. “Then what?”

  “We’ll set a trap and capture him!” Mike said. “The black notebook will be our tar. He’ll try to take it, but he’ll be caught like a saber-toothed cat in the brea!”

  A Winning Catch

  “So how are your Dodger Dogs?” Kate’s dad asked. Kate and Mike scooted down the row and sat next to him.

  “Really good,” Kate said.

  “I finished mine already,” Mike said. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “Maybe it’s time for another!”

  Kate groaned. “Not again! Aren’t you ever full?” she said.

  By the end of the fifth inning, the Dodgers had pulled ahead, 3–1. Their star batter, Jorge Valens, was at the plate with two outs and no one on base.

  “Watch Valens,” Mr. Hopkins said to Mike and Kate. “He’s really speedy.”

  The Padres pitcher threw a mean fastball straight toward the center of the plate.

  POW! The ball exploded off of Valens’s bat. It arced high over the first baseman’s head. The right fielder ran for the outfield wall as fast as he could, but he didn’t get there in time. The ball bounced on the red dirt of the warning track and rebounded off the wall. Valens rounded first and kept going. The right fielder grabbed the ball and hurled it to second.

  “Run! Run! Run!” Mr. Hopkins shouted. He beat his rolled-up program against the palm of his left hand. “You’ve got it!”

  It wasn’t even close. Valens easily made second base before the throw. The fans all around Mike and Kate stood up and cheered. Mike glanced back at the Dodger.

  “He’s still there,” Mike whispered to Kate. “Now’s a good time.”

  Kate nodded and jumped to her feet. She held her small black notebook up high and clapped her hand against it to make noise. The next Dodgers batter came to the plate. Kate and Mike and the rest of the crowd sat down. Kate rested the black notebook on her leg. Anyone sitting behind her would be able to see it.

  Down on the field, the Padres pitcher threw strike after strike. The Dodgers batter swung hard but kept missing. Three strikes. Three outs. There would be no more runs for the Dodgers that inning. Jorge Valens trotted in from second. A batboy tossed him his glove. Valens turned and headed out to play shortstop. It was the Padres’ turn to bat again.

  Mike tapped Kate’s leg. “Let’s go!” he said.

  Kate stood up and stretched her arms out wide. She held the notebook in her right hand. When she was done stretching, she leaned over and told her father they were going for a drink. Mr. Hopkins nodded, and Mike and Kate started up the stairs to the food court.

  Mike watched the Dodger out of the corner of his eye as they passed his row. The Dodger was just getting out of his seat. Mike skipped a couple of steps to catch up to Kate.

  “Bingo!” Mike said. “He’s right behind you! Now we can set the trap.”

  Kate tried not to look back. She didn’t want to tip off the Dodger that they were on to him. The two made their way to the food court. The Dodger, in his red shirt and dark blue baseball cap, followed about thirty feet behind them.

  “Are you sure this is a good idea?” Kate whispered to Mike when they reached the landing.

  “What could go wrong?” Mike said. “He wants that notebook. He knows we have it. We’re going to leave it where he can take it. Then, when he grabs it, we yell, ‘Stop, thief,’ and we’ve got him! Case closed.”

  Kate bit her lip. “I hope you’re right,” she said.

  Mike and Kate brushed past a few fans. The hot dog stand stood at a corner. One side opened to the main hallway. The other side opened to a second hallway that led to an exit.

  “I was thinking,” Kate said. “Maybe we should look around for a security guard, just in case.”

  “Good idea, but there’s no time. The Dodger is coming,” Mike said. He nodded at the other side of the hot dog stand. “I’ll watch him from there and make sure he doesn’t go down that hallway. You leave the notebook in sight. Remember, when he grabs it, yell, ‘Stop, thief!’ ”

  With that, Mike melted into the crowd. Kate stood back and pretended to study the menu. She felt her heart beating fast. The customer in front of her picked up a hot dog and moved over to put mustard and relish on it. Kate spied Mike on the other side of the stand. His baseball cap was pulled down low.

  It was now or never.

  Kate took a deep breath and stepped forward. When she reached the order window, she rested her hands on the wide counter around the edge of the stand. She ordered a drink and French fries and started rummaging around in her pockets for money. As she searched, Kate placed the notebook on the counter to her left.

  She finally pulled out a ten-dollar bill and passed it to the man behind the counter. After getting the change, she stepped to the right to wait for her food. The Dodger was standing in line to buy food. Kate could see him staring at the notebook.

  “Here you go, miss.” The man from the hot dog stand handed Kate her drink and fries. “Condiments are to your right.” He pointed to the plastic bottles of ketchup and mustard on a nearby table.

  Kate took her food and walked over to the table. As she did, a red blur caught her eye. She turned to look.

  Seeing his chance, the Dodger had left the line and snatched Kate’s notebook from the counter! He slipped the notebook inside his backpack.

  Kate heard Mike shout, “Now!”

  She yelled, “STOP, THIEF!”

  The fans standing in line jerked their heads toward Kate. She pointed at the Dodger. “He stole my notebook! Stop him!” she said loudly. “He’s a thief!”

  Everyone stared at the Dodger, but nobody moved. Mike ran up to the condiments table. Slowly the Dodger turned around. He looked bigger and meaner up close.

  “Zoe! Stop playing silly games, or we’ll get in trouble with security,” the Dodger said to Kate. He was pretending that he knew her. “I paid good money for these tickets. You’d better not cause any more problems. Now come with me before I tell your mother what you’ve done!”

  “W-what?” Kate stammered. What was happening? This wasn’t what they had planned. Kate stared back at the Dodger and spoke up. “My name is Kate, not Zoe. You just stole my notebook!”

  A few of the nearby fans snickered. The rest just turned around to wait for their chance to order. Kate glanced at Mike. He looked as confused as she felt. Neither of them knew what to do.

  “Now, Zoe!” the Dodger bellowed. “Stop wasting time!” He swung his black backpack over his shoulder and started walking toward the exit.

  Mike could see that nobody was even trying to stop the Dodger. Their plan wasn’t working!

  “We can’t just let him get away!” Kate yelled to Mike.

  She ran over to the Dodger and pulled hard on the top of his backpack. It slid down his arm, but he grabbed the strap roughly and tugged back. Kate held on to the other strap just as hard. The Dodger pulled her close enough for her to smell the coffee on his breath.

  “Let go of the backpack, kid,” the Dodger snarled. “I don’t want to have to hurt you. Let go if you know what’s good for you!”

  “No way,” Kate growled back. “That’s my notebook, and I want it now.”

  When Mike saw Kate grab the Dodger’s backpack, he ran over to help. Then he stopped and backed up. He had a better idea.

  The Dodger was still trying to pull the backpack away from Kate. She tried to stamp on his foot and missed. But it distracted him enough, and she gave the backpack a hard tug. It threw the Dodger off balance.

  As the Dodger tried to regain his footing, Kate reached out and unzipped the backpack. She pulled it open just as Mike dashed up to them. In his right hand was a big red plastic bottle of ketchup.

  “Not so fast,” Mike said, sliding to a halt.

  The Dodger turned to look at Mike. “Huh? Who are you?”

  “You took her notebook! Give it back!” Mike said. He planted his feet firmly and held the ketchup bottle in front of him with both hands. Before the Dodger could answer, Mike squeezed as hard as he could.

  Streams of bright red tomato ketchup arced through the air.

  SPLAT! SPLAT! SPLAT!

  The ketchup hit the Dodger across his face and chest. Streaks of red zigzagged back and forth like strands of red spaghetti.

  “HEY! Ugh!” the Dodger yelled. “Stop it!” He tried to brush the ketchup off with his free hand.

 

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