A New York Times bestseller! When a hurricane uncovers new information in a cold case, the Sherlock Society investigates a decades-old heist in this second book in the action-packed and funny Sherlock Society middle grade series from Edgar Award–winning author James Ponti! When a category three hurricane hits Miami Beach, it uncovers a body buried at the renowned Moroccan Hotel. The body is identified as the man who served as the hotel’s bell captain sixty years ago…and the presumed culprit of the million-dollar jewel heist that took place just before his disappearance. Since the bell captain clearly didn’t take off with the goods as had been long believed, the Sherlock Society sets their sights on uncovering the real culprit of the theft. But when the thief may also be implicated in the bell captain’s murder, even sixty years later, there are people who want the truth to stay buried. "An engrossing caper with a cerebral tilt." ― -- Kirkus Reviews "A winning mix of history, humor, and high-stakes sleuthing for returning fans of the series or new readers." ― -- School Library Journal James Ponti is the New York Times bestselling author of four middle grade book series: The Sherlock Society following a group of young detectives; City Spies, about an unlikely squad of five kids from around the world who form an elite MI6 Spy Team; the Edgar Award–winning Framed! series, about a pair of tweens who solve mysteries in Washington, DC; and the Dead City trilogy, about a secret society that polices the undead living beneath Manhattan. His books have appeared on more than fifteen different state award lists, and he is the founder of a writers group known as the Renegades of Middle Grade. James is also an Emmy–nominated television writer and producer who has worked for many networks including Nickelodeon, Disney Channel, PBS, History, and Spike TV, as well as NBC Sports. He lives with his family in Orlando, Florida. Find out more at JamesPonti.com. Chapter 1: Celestial Navigation 1 Celestial Navigation MY LIFE WAS FILLED WITH countless embarrassing athletic failures. Three errors in a single inning of Little League. A particularly bad airball in front of my entire PE class. And a game of hopscotch that landed me in the emergency room. But none were as humiliating as being outrun by my grandfather. My seventy-three-year-old grandfather. It was dark and we were sprinting through the woods, but the results would’ve been the same on the track at school. This despite the fact that he had an artificial hip, two heart stents, and a surgically reattached pinky toe that he liked to brag could “still wiggle and everything.” There were five of us running. My sister, Zoe, was out in front, because she apparently inherited all of the family’s sports genes. Next came my friends, Yadi and Lina, followed by Grandpa, with me in the rear. Which is exactly where I was in danger of getting bitten if we couldn’t stay ahead of the angry security dogs that were chasing us. “Watch out!” Grandpa warned as he deftly hurdled a fallen tree in our path. I gave it my best leap, but as I pushed off, my left foot slipped on some pine needles, which severely lowered my midair trajectory. (Can it be called midair if it’s less than twelve inches off the ground?) My right foot caught a branch that was sticking out of the trunk, and before I knew it, I slammed face-first into the ground and was spitting out dirt. “Are you okay?” Grandpa asked as he helped me up. My lip was starting to swell and my front tooth felt loose, but I could hear the barking getting closer. “I’m fine,” I mumbled due to the swelling. “Let’s keep moving.” A few minutes later, we reached a creek about eight feet wide. I was momentarily afraid that everyone else was going to just jump over it, leaving me behind for the dogs. “Should we follow along the bank or look for a spot to cross?” Zoe asked. “Neither,” Yadi answered. “We should get in the water and run right down the middle.” Zoe gave him a confused look. “Why would we do that?” “Because the dogs won’t be able to track our scent,” he answered. “He’s right,” Grandpa agreed. “It may be our best chance to lose them.” “What about snakes and alligators?” Lina asked. “This looks like their kind of neighborhood.” “They’re a concern, but still theoretical,” Grandpa replied. “The dogs, however, are very real. Besides, we don’t have to go far. Thirty or forty yards should be enough to cover our tracks. Then we can cross to the other side and try to make it back to the fence line.” My non-participation in the discussion had nothing to do with a lack of interest and everything to do with the fact that I was trying to catch my breath without hyperventilating. When the others turned to me for some input, the best I could offer was a nod and a breathless “I agree.” The water had a sour stink to it, and my jeans got soaked up to the thighs when my feet squished down into the muck. We didn’t