The Case of the Fire Alarm

by Dori Hillestad Butler

  “I checked the other one on this floor, but I didn’t check the ones upstairs or downstairs,” Mrs. Argus says.

  “Let’s check those, too,” Mom says.

  I walk with her and Mrs. Argus to the stairs. Mom and Mrs. Argus turn to go up, but I smell something in the other direction. I think it could be Zack.

  “Let’s go this way,” I tell Mom.

  “This way, Buddy,” Mom calls me.

  “No, this way,” I insist. I start down the stairs.

  “I thought you said this dog wasn’t going to be running around loose anymore,” Mrs. Argus says. “We don’t have time to worry about your dog. We have to find Zack!”

  “I think maybe Buddy knows something we don’t,” Mom says. “Let’s see where he wants to go.”

  Mom follows me down the stairs. Mrs. Argus sighs and follows Mom. But I can tell by the sound of her footsteps that she’s not happy about it.

  “I’m pretty sure this is Zack’s scent I’m picking up,” I tell them over my shoulder.

  Now I’m in the basement.

  All that’s down here is an empty gymnasium and a wall of storage closets.

  The scent ends at the closets. Hmm. I’m confused.

  I smell basketballs, soccer balls, and jump ropes. But I also smell Zack!

  There’s pounding coming from inside the middle closet. And a voice: “Let me out! Let me out!”

  9

  What Happened to Zack?

  “Good boy, Buddy,” Mom says, patting my side.

  Mrs. Argus bends down in front of the closet. “Zack?” she says to the closed door, “is that you?”

  “Yes,” a small voice replies.

  I scratch at the door, but it doesn’t open.

  Mom goes into the gym and picks up a phone on the wall. “Would you send Mr. Poe to the storage closets outside the gym, please?” she says into the phone. “Tell him to bring his keys.”

  We wait a little while, and then I see the man who smells like cleaning stuff lumbering down the stairs. It’s the same man who wouldn’t let anyone back inside the school when the fire alarm went off.

  “What’s going on?” the man asks Mom and Mrs. Argus. This must be Mr. Poe.

  “One of my first-graders is locked inside this closet,” Mrs. Argus says, wringing her hands together.

  Mr. Poe frowns at the closet. “How did that happen?” he asks.

  Well, there’s a lock on the outside of the closet, so I don’t think Zack locked himself in there. Someone else must have locked him in.

  But who would do such a thing? And why? Whoever it was, I bet it was a human, not a ghost.

  Mr. Poe pulls a large key ring out of his pocket. He sorts through the keys, then sticks one inside the lock on the closet.

  The door swings open. And there, stuffed inside the closet with jump ropes, orange cones, and dirty balls, is Zack.

  “Oh, my,” Mrs. Argus says as she helps Zack out of the closet and closes the door.

  Zack’s cheeks are red, and his hair is damp. Water dribbles down his cheeks.

  “How did you end up inside the storage closet, Zack?” Mom asks in a soft voice.

  Zack sniffs. He doesn’t answer.

  “Thank you for unlocking the closet,” Mom says to Mr. Poe. Then she turns to Zack and Mrs. Argus. “I know you have to get back to your class, Mrs. Argus. But Zack? I’d like you to come to my office. We’ll get you cleaned up and get you a drink of water. Then maybe we can talk about what happened.”

  Zack swallows hard. I don’t think he wants to talk about what happened.

  “I’m glad we found you, Zack,” Mrs. Argus says, patting his back. “I was worried about you.” She glances at me, and I think she might even pet me. Or at least tell me I’m a good dog. But she just turns and walks away.

  Oh, well.

  Mr. Poe closes the closet. Mom, Zack, and Mrs. Argus all head back upstairs.

  I sniff around the outside of the closet. Besides Zack’s scent, I smell bananas, sweat socks, pencils, dirt, hamburger—wait a minute! I think the bananas, sweat socks, and dirt scent belongs to one person. And the hamburger, pencils, and dirt scent belongs to a different person.

  I’ve smelled these people before. Where?

  “Come on, Buddy,” Mom calls from the other end of the hallway.

  “I’m coming,” I say, hurrying to catch up with Mom and Zack.

  It’s just us in Mom’s office. Mom, Zack, and me.

  Mom sits beside Zack rather than at her desk. “Who locked you in that closet, Zack?” she asks softly.

  Zack just stares at his feet.

  “Are you afraid to tell me?” Mom asks.

  Again no answer.

  “Yes,” I tell Mom with my eyes. “He’s very afraid.” I can smell the fear all over him. In fact, that’s why I’m talking to Mom with my eyes instead of my mouth. This boy is so scared that I’m afraid to talk with my mouth.

  I go over to him and lick his hand. What are you so afraid of? You can tell Mom who locked you in that closet.

  “Is someone at school giving you a hard time?” Mom asks.

  Zack still doesn’t answer, but I watch the way his mouth twitches. “I think the answer is yes,” I tell Mom.

  “Are you afraid that if you tell me who’s giving you a hard time, things will only get worse for you?” Mom asks.

  Zack’s bottom lip twitches again. “That’s another yes,” I tell Mom.

  Mom sighs. “I can’t help you if you won’t talk to me, honey,” she says.

  He may not be talking with his mouth, but he’s still talking. And I’m trying to translate for Mom. She’s just not getting the message.

  What else could I do to help? I could go into all the classrooms and sniff around. Eventually, I’d find the kid who smells like bananas, sweat socks, and dirt. And the kid who smells like hamburger, pencils, and dirt.

  But I’m not supposed to wander around the school. I’m supposed to stay in Mom’s office. Can I figure out who locked Zack in the closet without leaving Mom’s office? I don’t know.

  I wish I could remember where else I’ve smelled those scents before. I think and I think and I think ... but it’s not coming to me.

  Maybe it would help to make a list of things I know and things I don’t know about the Case of the Kid in the Closet.

  Here is what I know:

  Zack left his classroom to go to the bathroom.

  Someone has been giving Zack a hard time.

  Somebody—more than one somebody—locked him in the storage closet.

  Zack knows who did it.

  Zack is afraid to tell who did it.

  Zack is afraid that whoever locked him in the closet will do something even worse if he tells.

  Here is what I don’t know:

  Who has been giving Zack a hard time?

  Who locked Zack in the closet?

  Here is my plan:

  ???

  I lie down and think about this.

  Zack won’t talk because he’s scared. He was awfully scared when he was talking to Mom about the fire drill, too. Why? Maybe he saw who pulled the alarm.

  Maybe the person who pulled the alarm knows that Zack saw him and is afraid Zack is going to tell. So he locked Zack in the storage closet to warn him to keep quiet.

  I hop up and nudge Zack’s arm to get his attention. “Did you see who pulled the fire alarm?” I ask. “Was it Michael?”

  He doesn’t answer.

  “Mom!” I say. “Ask Zack if he saw who pulled the fire alarm! I think the person who pulled the fire alarm is the same person who locked Zack in the storage closet.”

  “Buddy, do you have to go outside?” Mom asks.

  “NO!” I say. Why do humans always think we have to go outside?

  “I can take him outside, Mrs. K.,” says a kid I don’t know. He’s about Zack’s age, and he’s sort of bouncing around in Mom’s doorway. He’s like a little human pogo stick ... jumping, jumping, jumping.

  “I’ll
take Buddy outside,” Ellie says from the other office. “Why don’t you sit down, Tristan. Mrs. Keene isn’t ready to talk to you yet.”

  But instead of sitting down, Tristan leaps up and slaps the top of the doorjamb.

  Wow! That kid can jump high!

  “Sit down, Tristan!” Ellie says, leading him to a bench beside her desk. “Save your jumping for the playground.”

  “I don’t think Buddy needs to go outside,” Mom says. She reaches over and closes the door.

  She probably said that because she wanted Ellie to stay in the office and keep an eye on that human jumping bean.

  Hey, wait a minute. Human jumping bean?

  That gives me a whole new idea about who might have pulled the fire alarm. And who locked Zack inside the storage closet.

  10

  Who Pulled the Fire Alarm?

  I remember now where I smelled the bananas, sweat socks, and dirt scent. And the hamburger, pencils, and dirt scent. Those scents belonged to the kids who were in that club, the Sharks. They told Zack he had to do something no one else in the school had ever done if he wanted to get into the club. Has anyone else in this school ever pulled a fire alarm?

  I go over to Zack and lay my head in his lap. “Did you pull the fire alarm, Zack?” I ask with my eyes.

  I know he can jump really high. I saw him on the playground. He jumped to a really high bar on the climbing toy. Could he reach the alarm if he jumped?

  “Are those boys afraid you’ll tell Mom that it’s their fault you pulled the alarm?” I ask. “Did they lock you in the storage closet to warn you to keep quiet?”

  Zack is looking everywhere except at me.

  “You should tell Mom if that’s what happened,” I say, snuggling deeper into his lap.

  “Buddy must like you, Zack,” Mom says. “You can pet him, if you want.”

  “Yeah, you can pet me if you want,” I say.

  He touches my head. Then pats me gently on the back.

  “If you don’t want to tell me how you got locked in the storage closet, maybe you can tell Buddy,” Mom says. “He’s a good listener.”

  Zack’s hand starts to shake a little. I think he wants to tell me what happened, but he’s afraid.

  I lick Zack’s hand. “Mom’s right. I am a good listener.”

  Zack looks at me. “Some second-graders locked me in the closet,” he says in a small voice. “They did it because they didn’t want me to tell anyone about their club.”

  “What club is that?” Mom asks.

  Zack swallows. “The Sharks. You have to do something no one else in the whole school has ever done to get in.” He pauses. “So I ... pulled the fire alarm.”

  I knew it!

  Mom draws in her breath. “I see,” she says, sitting back in her chair. “I’m glad you told Buddy and me.”

  Zack bites his lip. “Am I going to go to jail?”

  “No,” Mom says. “But I am going to call your parents. And I’ll need the names of the other kids who are in the Sharks, too. We need to talk about the difference between a good club and a bad club.”

  Mom moves my pillow out of her office and sets it next to Ellie’s desk. “Lie down, Buddy,” she says, pointing to the pillow.

  I lie down. “What’s going on?” I say.

  But Mom and Ellie are too busy moving chairs from Ellie’s office into Mom’s office to answer me.

  Mrs. Argus, the kids from the Sharks, and some parents come in. They go into Mom’s office and Mom closes the door. Ellie gives my head a pat, then turns to her computer.

  A bell rings. Kids pour into the hallway and I hear talking and laughing. Then it is quiet.

  Mom’s door remains closed.

  After a while, Ellie turns off her computer. She knocks lightly on Mom’s door. “I’m heading out, Sarah,” she says to the closed door. “Buddy is sleeping on his pillow. Would you like me to bring him in there with you, or do you think he’s okay out here?”

  “He’s fine out there,” Mom says. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Ellie. Thanks.”

  “See you tomorrow,” Ellie replies. “And I’ll see you tomorrow, too, Buddy.” She reaches into her pocket and tosses me a liver treat. I LOVE liver treats. They’re my favorite food!

  Ellie smiles, then turns out the light in the main office and leaves.

  I put my head back down on my paws and close my eyes. Now that I’ve solved the Case of the Fire Alarm and the Case of the Kid in the Cabinet, maybe I can give up detective work once and for all.

  I’m thinking happy thoughts as I drift off to sleep. Nothing but happy thoughts. Liver treats ... cheese ... bacon and eggs ...

  All of a sudden I have the strangest feeling I’m being watched.

  My eyes pop open. I don’t see anything. But I feel a cool burst of air ripple through my fur. I shiver.

  Then the office door slams shut.

  I leap to my feet. The windows aren’t open. And there’s no one here who could have closed that door.

  The door to Mom’s office opens. “What was that noise?” she asks. She glances toward the closed office door. “Oh, Mr. Poe must’ve come and closed that door.”

  Mr. Poe? No, I don’t think so. I didn’t see him, and I didn’t smell him.

  I think back to what Jazzy told me about seeing strange things in the school during the night. I remember what Connor told Michael about the school being haunted. And what Cat with No Name said: I’ve seen the ghost at the school.

  Could there be a ghost here?

  Hmm ... maybe I shouldn’t give up the detective business just yet. I have a feeling there are more cases to solve around this school. Besides, I LOVE being a detective. It’s my favorite thing!

  All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this ebook onscreen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of the publisher.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  copyright © 2010 by Dori Hillestad Butler

  Illustrations copyright © 2010 Jeremy Tugeau

  978-1-4532-1950-8

  This 2011 edition distributed by Open Road Integrated Media

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