4. Who Are the Grontses

Chapter 4 Who Are the Grontses? "Are you sure?" Bradley said. "Wasn't one of them carrying a backpack?" "I'll bet it's inside that shopping bag," Nate said. "They must have had extra clothes and wigs in there, too." "Neither one is limping," Lucy said.

"Ha!" Brian said. "That's one of their tricks. Sometimes they limp, and sometimes they don't!" "Still think they're just innocent tourists?" Nate asked Lucy. "I really don't know what to think," Lucy muttered under her breath. The white-haired couple entered the hotel. "Maybe they're after Mr. Linkletter's computer!" Nate said. "We'd better warn him!" "But we can't let them know we're following them," Lucy said. "We can watch them through the door," Bradley said. "They'll never notice us." The four kids crept up to the thick glass door and peered inside. They saw the old couple talking to Mr. Linkletter at the counter. They were smiling. Then they walked toward the elevators. "Let's go!" Bradley said. He shoved the door open and the kids piled in. Mr. Linkletter's eyes got wide when he saw the kids. His eyebrows went up an inch and his mustache twitched. "Hello, young people," he said. "What brings you out on New Year's Eve? Are you checking in

to our most expensive room?"

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Bradley knew Mr. Linkletter was fooling with them. He was always joking around, but you couldn't tell because he almost never smiled. "We're too young to check in to a hotel," Brian said. Bradley looked at the counter. There was the sign that said, C. LINKLETTER, MANAGER. There was the little bell that new guests rang when they came in. And there was the neat pile of green paper with SHANGRI-LA HOTEL printed at the top. Mr. Linkletter nodded. "Indeed," he said. "So how can I help you today?" "That old couple you were talking to," Nate said. "Are they staying here?" Mr. Linkletter crossed his arms. "I never discuss my guests," he said. "Why do you want to know?" "Um, we're playing a game," Nate said. Mr. Linkletter raised one eyebrow. He waited. "You see," Nate went on, "we pick someone we don't know, and we follow them. We pretend they're really important, like a movie star or the president."

"Yeah, and we try to guess stuff about them," Brian added. "It's practice," Nate said, beaming his best smile at Mr. Linkletter. "In case we become detectives when we grow up!" Bradley looked at his feet so he wouldn't laugh. "I assure you young, um, detectives," Mr. Linkletter said, "that Mr. and Mrs. Gronts aren't movie stars. And they don't live in the White House, either." He turned the register and put a long finger under a name: MR. A. GRONTS, 1212 TWELFTH STREET, MIAMI, FL. "Great," Bradley said. "That means I win the game! I guessed they were from Florida because of their tans!" "The Grontses are old friends of this hotel," Mr. Linkletter went on. "They come to Green Lawn every Christmas to visit Mr. Gronts's sister, Mabel, who lives in the elderly-housing building." Bradley grabbed his brother's arm and tugged. "Come on," he whispered.