The Case of the Three Kings / El caso de los Reyes Magos

by Alidis Vicente

  THE FLACA FILES 2

  THE CASE OF THE THREE KINGS

  THE FLACA FILES 2

  THE CASE OF THE THREE KINGS

  Alidis Vicente

  The Case of the Three Kings is made possible through a grant from the City of Houston through the Houston Arts Alliance. We are grateful for their support.

  Piñata Books are full of surprises!

  Piñata Books

  An imprint of

  Arte Público Press

  University of Houston

  4902 Gulf Fwy, Bldg 19, Rm 100

  Houston, Texas 77204-2004

  Cover design and illustrations by Mora Des!gn Group

  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data available.

  The paper used in this publication meets the requirements of the American National Standard for Information Sciences—Permanence of Paper for Printed Library Materials, ANSI Z39.48-1984.

  The Case of the Three Kings © 2016 by Alidis Vicente

  Printed in the United States of America

  May 2016–June 2016

  Versa Press, Inc., East Peoria, IL

  10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  From the Desk of Detective Flaca

  CHAPTER 1

  Worst Christmas Gift Ever

  CHAPTER 2

  Flying Camels

  CHAPTER 3

  The Island of Enchantment

  CHAPTER 4

  Staying at the Zoo

  CHAPTER 5

  Bugs vs. Boogers

  CHAPTER 6

  Time to Catch the Kings

  CHAPTER 7

  The Chicks Are Fed

  CHAPTER 8

  Back at the Office

  In memory of my great-grandmother, Alejandrina Rodríguez. I will remember you in your rocking chair, looking at the landscape through your bedroom window. No one can take you from that land. Until next time, Mamita.

  FROM THE DESK OF DETECTIVE FLACA

  Dear Junior Detective,

  It’s me, Detective Flaca, with a confidentiality agreement for you to sign. This book isn’t about a bunch of awesome mysteries I’ve solved, even though I have cracked some pretty big ones. This story, my friends, is about one major case that left me with serious questions to answer and answers that left me with serious questions. That probably sounds kind of confusing, but it’ll make sense later. For now, just sign the form below so I can make sure my methods of mystery mastery don’t fall into the wrong hands. I’m sure you understand how important that is, don’t you? Good. So sign, and let’s get this trip on the road. Fasten your seat belt, we’re going to Puerto Rico. I hope you enjoy the ride!

  Carefully yours,

  Detective Flaca

  I, ___________________________________, do solemnly swear not to reveal any of Detective Flaca’s extra awesome detective methods to any villains, evil masterminds or criminals in training. I promise to use Detective Flaca’s totally confidential information solely for learning and creative purposes and will not criticize any of the characters (except maybe La Bruja). Lastly, I promise to read the whole book and look up any words I don’t understand in the dictionary so that one day I can be an even smarter and better detective than Detective Flaca, if that’s even humanly possible.

  Signed,

  _______________________________________

  CHAPTER 1

  Worst Christmas Gift Ever

  Last year I got what I thought was the worst Christmas gift in the history of gift giving. Worse than a lump of coal. Worse than an ugly, itchy holiday sweater. Even worse than fruitcake. I got a plane ticket. You’re probably thinking, “A plane ticket? That’s the most awesome gift ever! What are you talking about?!” Allow me to explain.

  On Christmas morning, my family and I were done with opening the gifts found under a beautifully decorated Christmas tree, which, of course, I decorated. I love Christmas. I love the fresh smell of pine coming from the giant tree my dad lugs through the house every year. He drags it on the wood floor into the living room, and my mom always runs behind him the minute he walks in the door, picking up fallen pine needles with a dustpan. My sister, La Bruja, just sits in her room and pays no attention. She couldn’t care less. I totally expect that, because decorating a Christmas tree the right way takes dedication. It takes skill and an eye for detail, all things she doesn’t have. Luckily, I’m around and have always used my sharp detective eyes for setting up the Christmas tree. I divide the ornaments by shape and color. Then, I take white lights and wrap them around the tree, making sure there is equal space between the rows of lit bulbs. Afterward, I place the ornaments on the tree in such a way that no ornaments from the same group are too close to one another. I have it down to a science and nail it every year.

  Anyhow, back to my story. We were all done with opening our stuff. My dad had gotten a new fishing pole, one he had wanted for forever but my mother always said was too expensive. My mom got a purse. Just one handbag, but I guess it cost as much as three regular purses, because she nearly flew through the chimney with excitement when she opened it. My older sister, La Bruja, well, she got a bunch of gift cards, which is exactly what she wanted. She always gets what she wants. Annoying. Unlike my sister, I value the thought behind gift giving, as long as it’s something I’d put on my Christmas wish list. My parents got me a brand-new fingerprint-taking set, a police-quality miniflashlight and something I have wanted for a really long time—police tape, so I can block off any crime scene. You wouldn’t believe how many people just trample on an area I am working on with no respect for my need to keep it completely untouched. Details matter, people!

  We were all happy little elves that Christmas morning. I was piling up my gifts, getting ready to chow down on my mom’s signature eggnog waffles and homemade hot chocolate with green, red and white marshmallows. That’s when it all went downhill. My parents came over with envelopes in their hands. My father handed one to me, and my mother handed one to La Bruja. I knew something was up because they were looking at each other, smiling. I hoped it wasn’t something awful, like tickets for La Bruja and me to go to some type of event together for that disastrous thing our parents like to call “sisterly bonding.” I sat there for a moment, unsure if I wanted to even open the envelope. I’m not a fan of surprises.

  “Well, what are you waiting for? Open it,” said my dad.

  La Bruja ripped her envelope open like a savage beast, hoping for another gift card.

  “What does this mean?” she asked.

  I opened my envelope. Inside was a ticket. It only took me a moment of scanning with my flawless vision to pinpoint what kind of ticket it was. “It’s a plane ticket, genius,” I said to La Bruja. She jumped from the floor in her reindeer pajama pants and hugged my mother.

  “Where are we going? The Bahamas? Jamaica? Oh, wait! Paris?!”

  La Bruja was shivering with excitement. Her bouncy, curly hair was jiggling all over the place as she spoke. It was starting to give me motion sickness.

  I decided to look at the ticket instead. “We’re going to Puerto Rico.” Then I realized the dates on the ticket. “Dad, it says we leave in a week.”

  “That’s right! So start packing your bags, girls. We’ll be gone for five days.”

  La Bruja and my mom were practically rumba dancing in the living room with joy. I, on the other hand, was not happy.

  “We can’t go for five days! We’ll miss the first few days of school back from winter break,” I exclaimed.

  “Don’t worry, Flaca,” my mom said. “We have already talked to your teachers. Everything is fine.”
I couldn’t believe it. My parents had gone behind my back to plan a vacation without even asking my opinion. They had just volunteered my participation and hadn’t even considered my work obligations.

  “But I have deadlines with my cases. Crime doesn’t rest! Besides, there are other things to consider. I can’t believe nobody told me about this!”

  If my parents had consulted me on a vacation destination, I would’ve warned them of the dangers of going to the Caribbean. The UV sunray exposure, the occasional outbreaks of sicknesses carried by mosquitoes (and we all know how much I love mosquitoes).

  Couldn’t we have gone instead to Washington, DC? Somewhere educational? To somewhere we could drive?

  “Uh-oh! I think somebody’s scared to get on the plane. Don’t worry, Flaca, I’ll bring diapers in case you wet yourself,” said La Bruja.

  I wondered how she even got presents on Christmas to begin with. There was no possible way on earth she wasn’t on the naughty list. Now is probably a good time to mention I don’t like flying. At all. I’d rather hug my sister than get on a plane—that’s how much I detest it. I’m not scared or anything, because once you’ve seen so much crime in your life, it’s hard to get frightened anymore. But there’s something about planes I just don’t trust.

  I get the whole “It’s the safest way to travel” explanation. It’s just, you’re like in a plane by a window and on the other side of that window is 35,000 feet between you and the ground. It doesn’t take an FBI investigator to calculate the amount of risk and danger in that equation.

  “Now, now, girls. Everything is going to be fine. We’re going to have a lot of fun at my grandmother’s house! Especially with everyone celebrating Three Kings Day,” said my mother.

  “Whoa, whoa, whoa. We’re staying at Mamita’s house?” asked La Bruja. “But there’s no air conditioning. No cable TV. No Wi-Fi!” Now La Bruja’s irritatingly wide smile had turned into a bratty pout. If there was anything she couldn’t live without, it was her makeup, iPhone and Wi-Fi.

  “Aw, what’s wrong? Someone afraid of a little nature? Don’t worry, I’ll bring you some tissues in case you cry yourself to sleep,” I said.

  La Bruja squinted her brown eyes at me while I walked past her and up the stairs to my room.

  “If you’ll excuse me, I’ll be in my room . . . packing for this lovely, sweaty camping trip.”

  “We’re going to have fun, Flaca! Celebrating Los Reyes Magos is more fun than Christmas!” my dad yelled as I stomped up the stairs.

  Planes, heat, no air conditioners and my sister. Sounded like a holiday nightmare to me.

  CHAPTER 2

  Flying Camels

  My suitcase was empty on my bedroom floor, and it would stay that way for a while because I had research to do. First, I checked the website of the Federal Aviation Administration to make sure there hadn’t been any recent plane crashes in the Western hemisphere. Then, I checked for travel alerts from the Department of State. Being the careful detective I am, I needed to be absolutely certain there was no reason we shouldn’t go on this trip, because if there was, I would definitely report my findings to my parents and cancel this whole miserable vacation. But there weren’t any. Ugh. There was no way I was getting out of this mess.

  I stared at my computer screen until my eyes got blurry. My mind began to wander, and my brain was soon full of questions. Why were we going on this trip? Three Kings Day? What was that, anyway? In our house, there was no celebration past New Year’s. And if there was this unknown holiday, why had we never celebrated it before? Were there presents involved? If there were, it would make sense that our parents had never told us about it before. I needed answers. Since I was already on the computer, I decided to do some investigating. Turns out, Three Kings Day is a superpopular holiday in Latin America, celebrated on January 6th. On the night before, children collect grass in a box and put it under their beds with a glass of water. Overnight, three wise men come on their camels to give the kids gifts, while their camels eat the grass and drink the water. I nearly laughed out loud. Three men on flying camels? How come nobody found this creepy? I mean, where were these men getting all these gifts from?

  Then all the pieces of the puzzle started to come together. These “Three Kings” might’ve stolen gifts from Santa Claus or even swiped them from under Christmas trees all around the world! They would hold on to them for a while and give them out on January 6th so they would look like heroes and take the shine off Christmas. Or these kings could be regifters. You know, people who don’t like their Christmas gifts and then just rewrap them and give them to someone else. So ungrateful. Yup, I bet that’s what the Three Kings holiday was all about: recycling Christmas gifts. I had pretty much almost solved the entire holiday already, and I hadn’t even gone to Puerto Rico yet. I know, I know. I’m good, but there was still more work to be done. Ultimately, this holiday had “suspicious activity” written all over it, and I would get to the bottom of it.

  I began mapping out my course of action on the dry erase board on my bedroom wall. That’s where I held all my morning briefings with, well, myself, and organized my plan of attack. I drew this outline:

  I. Observe the landscape.

  A. Is there room for camels to land and walk?

  B. Are there optimal flying conditions?

  C. Take note of points of entry into the house and bedroom.

  II. Identify any accomplices.

  A. Who, if anyone, could be helping these “kings”?

  B. Observe suspicious behavior.

  C. Check for unusual items around the house.

  III. Stake out.

  A. Go in stealth mode and stay up all night.

  B. Catch the culprits.

  C. Bring them in for questioning.

  IV. Expose the “Kings.”

  A. Show everyone how awesomely smart you are.

  B. Make Christmas the main holiday so you don’t miss school next year.

  C. Never stay in a non-air-conditioned place in Puerto Rico ever again.

  I went downstairs to talk to my parents over breakfast. All the thinking and researching had brought back my appetite. La Bruja had already started eating, but she didn’t look nearly as happy as when she thought we might’ve been going to Paris. I would love to be able to get her a one-way ticket there. I sat at the table, and my mom served me waffles. I asked for an extra-large mug of hot chocolate. I needed the sugar.

  “Do you have any questions about our trip, girls?” asked my father. It was just like him to ask a question he already knew the answer to. Of course we did!

  “Yes, I’d like an explanation as to exactly what happens on Three Kings Day,” I said.

  I sipped my hot chocolate. It nearly burned my tongue off. Was my mother trying to distract me from some master plan she and my father had by scorching my taste buds? That question would have to wait for another day. I kept eye contact with my father, waiting for an answer.

  “Well, it’s a very important holiday in Puerto Rico and most Latin American countries. The children put grass in boxes, and . . . ”

  “Yeah, yeah, yeah, I read all about it. I want to know what really happens,” I demanded.

  My parents looked at each other for a moment. They were keeping something from me. I could smell it.

  “You don’t expect me to believe camels fly all over the world with wise men on their backs, eating grass and delivering presents, do you? Camels are one of the slowest animals on earth! They couldn’t possibly do that. Besides, there aren’t even any camels in Puerto Rico!” I exclaimed.

  I tried to stay as professional as possible while interrogating my parents, but my mom’s eggnog waffles were teasing me with their scent. I couldn’t resist the temptation. I began stuffing them into my mouth while I waited for an explanation.

  “Children all over the world, including you, have long believed in a man riding a sleigh being pulled by flying reindeer. If you can believe that, why can’t you believe this?” my mother said.


  She was good. Always reversing my questions on me. The worst part was, this time she had a point. I pretended my mouth was too full to come up with something clever to say. After a few minutes, I had a comeback. “So why do these wise men only visit kids in certain parts of the world? What about the rest of the globe? Where have they been all my life?”

  “They visit those who believe,” answered my mother. “And it doesn’t sound to me like you’re much of a believer.”

  I sipped my hot chocolate again. It had cooled down since my last taste, but my tongue was still slightly numb.

  “This is about presents, isn’t it? You don’t want us to get more presents, so you have completely denied us this holiday. I hope these kings have extra camels, because they owe me ten years of gifts.”

  La Bruja decided to join the conversation. She had been ignoring us the entire time while she ate and uploaded pictures of her plane ticket onto the internet for her friends to see. “Flaca, why are you being so annoying? Who cares about what happens? The only thing you should be worried about is getting a tan. Aside from your freckles, you’re practically invisible in the snow.”

  “You’re right. I am. Next time we’re outside, I’ll use my invisibility to launch the dog’s yellow snow at you.”

  “Okay, cut it out, the both of you!” said my father. He always tries to keep the peace. “We are going on this vacation, and everyone needs to make the best of it. Three Kings Day is about more than presents and camels. It is about our family’s culture and traditions, and this year we will share them together with our family in Puerto Rico.”

  Culture and traditions? I got enough of that when my mom watched Spanish soap operas or made me eat twelve grapes on New Year’s Eve.

  CHAPTER 3

  The Island of Enchantment

  A week later, I found myself walking down a platform from the airport gate while glaring at the entrance to a plane that would land me either safely at our destination or unsafely somewhere else. I stared at the outside of the plane for a moment and put my hand on the cold metal before taking a deep breath and stepping inside. The captain of the plane was standing at its entrance with a flight attendant.