He broke off.
Someone had come around the corner of the fence. A boy. He saw the teenagers and stopped, looking uncertain.
It was Noah.
Milo leaned out a little further. Now, what was he—
“AAAAAAAAAHH!” Milo yelled as the branch under his hand snapped. As he grabbed another branch, he dropped the tube.
Noah stared at the tube on the ground. He shot a panicked glance up at the tree. Then he turned and fled.
Ignoring Ben’s and Vanessa’s startled shouts, Milo scrambled down the tree.
“Stop!” he yelled.
Noah sped up. Milo chased after him as Jazz pounded behind.
The parking lot was full of people—kids unlocking their bikes, families climbing into cars. Noah ran across the walk. At that moment, Vanessa and Ben came around the fence from the other direction.
Trapped on three sides, Noah looked around wildly. Then he turned and ran through the gate into the pool area, with Milo close behind.
Chip stood by the pool, skimming stray leaves off the surface.
“Stop him!” Milo yelled.
Noah, still running, shot a panicked glance over his shoulder.
Startled, Chip spun around.
Milo saw it all in slow motion: Chip, body twisted, one foot raised. Noah, head turned away, plowing into him. And Chip, arms flailing, falling backward into the pool with a gigantic splash.
Noah sprawled on the pool deck. Milo jumped on top of him, pinning him down. He didn’t struggle.
“You have the right to remain silent,” Milo gasped. “But you’d better talk, or else!”
Noah groaned. “Okay,” he admitted. “I did it. I put the purple pool dye in the water.”
Milo let him up. Jazz, Ben, and Vanessa clustered around.
“But why?” Jazz asked.
Noah hung his head. “It was . . . well . . . because of Spence, I guess.”
“Spencer made you do it?” Milo said, shocked.
“He didn’t know anything about it,” Noah answered quickly. “It was just . . . Spence was so sure that anyone from California must be amazing in the water.”
“You mean you can’t dive off high cliffs and stuff?” Milo asked Noah.
“I can’t even jump off the low board,” Noah admitted miserably. “I . . . I can’t swim.”
“At all?”
Noah shook his head. Then he blurted, “I wanted to tell Spence the truth! I really did. But I was too embarrassed, so I made up an excuse about losing my swimsuit in the move. And then—well, then the next time it was even harder. I’d already told a fib. And Spence kept telling everyone what a great swimmer I was. . . .” He trailed off.
Milo thought of the time that Spencer had decided his parrot wanted him to be a pirate. Spencer was a good guy, but sometimes he could really get carried away.
Jazz looked at Noah. “So then you felt kind of stuck, didn’t you? You had to keep making more excuses not to go in the pool. Eating too much, watching the twins—”
“Swimmer’s ear,” Milo said, remembering.
Noah nodded. “That was a good one. Too bad I didn’t think of it before I turned the pool purple.”
“But what even gave you the idea of dyeing it?” Jazz asked.
“I saw an ad,” Noah said. “Rainbow Pool, they called it—one bottle to color a whole pool. The ad said the dye was harmless, but I figured they’d at least have to close the pool while they checked. Now I feel like I was crazy to do it.” His shoulders drooped. “I wish I’d just told the truth before making so much trouble for everyone.”
“You and me both.”
They all turned. Chip stood on the deck, dripping wet, a puddle forming around his feet. Wide-eyed, Noah watched as Chip squished slowly over.
He looked down at Noah.
“Kid,” he said, “we need to have a talk.”
Saturday morning was sunny and hot. Milo stood in front of a painting of a surfer. At least, he thought it was a surfer. It might have been someone standing up in a canoe.
“You know,” Jazz said, “I’ve never worn a swimsuit to an art show.”
“I’ve never worn anything to an art show,” he told her. No, wait, that sounded wrong. “I mean, I’ve never been to an art show before.”
Near them, Ben said to Vanessa, “That was a great idea, getting your art teacher to hang the pictures at the pool!”
“Well, you know . . . Fun in the Sun,” Vanessa said. She smiled at Ben. “Thanks for coming as my date. I was a little nervous about asking you.”
Ben looked surprised. “You were? But . . .” He stopped, blushing.
“What?” Vanessa asked.
He shook his head. “Oh, just remind me to tell you something sometime.” Hand in hand, they walked off together.
Ethan tugged on Milo’s arm. “I like Vanessa’s picture the best. It’s funny!”
Milo had to agree. Sailing, surfing, and sand castles were okay. But Vanessa’s painting was his favorite. She’d perfectly captured the look on Chip’s face as he fell into the pool.
“I wonder how Chip likes it,” Jazz whispered.
Milo shrugged. “He wanted to be a model, right? Besides, Chip likes anything that has to do with Chip.”
“Hey, don’t make fun of Chip!” a voice said.
They turned. It was Noah.
“I owe that guy,” Noah went on. “I still can’t believe he didn’t turn me in. If the manager knew what I did, she’d ban me from the pool forever.”
“You mean, you want to go in the pool now?” Jazz asked.
Noah nodded. “Chip got me to sign up for swim class.”
“He’s a Polliwog, like me!” Ethan said.
Noah winced. “Just for now. By the end of the summer, I’m going to be a Shark. Or at least a Porpoise.”
Milo looked at the water. It was its usual blue again. “So,” he said, “The Case of the Purple Pool is closed.”
Jazz turned to Noah. “We don’t have to tell anyone it was you,” she said. “I mean, just Dash Marlowe, when we write to him. But not Spencer or anybody else.”
“I told Spence everything,” Noah said.
“You did?”
“Yeah. And I explained that just because you live in California doesn’t mean you go to the beach all the time. I’ve never even seen the beach. I’m from the mountains.”
“What did he say?” Jazz asked.
“Well . . .”
“Mountain man!” Spencer said, coming up and clapping a hand on Noah’s shoulder. He turned to Milo and Jazz. “Wait till winter. Noah’s going to show us some serious snowboard tricks.”
They looked at Noah.
“I do know how to snowboard,” Noah said. “I’m not an expert, but—”
“Come on, I’ll bet you’re great!” Spencer threw an arm around his shoulder. As he steered Noah away, Milo heard him say, “One time I saw a movie where a guy jumped from a helicopter, landed on his snowboard, and then—whoosh! Right down the mountain. Did you ever . . . ?”
Milo and Jazz looked at each other. They laughed.
“Wait till Dash hears about this case,” Milo said. “You think he’s ever had one where a swimming pool turned purple?”
“Probably not,” Jazz said. “Although I wouldn’t be surprised if he had one with a guy jumping from a helicopter. The Case of the Purloined Parachute.”
Milo said, “Or the Flattened Felon.”
Jazz made a face. “Yuck!”
“The Squished Suspect?”
“Milo!”
He grinned. In a deep Dash Marlowe voice, he concluded, “But that’s another story.”
A few days after Milo and Jazz wrote to Dash Marlowe, a letter arrived in the mail. . . .
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Lewis B. Montgomery is the pen name of a writer whose favorite authors include CSL, EBW, and LMM. Those initials are a clue—but there’s another clue, too. Can you figure out their names?
Besides writing the Milo &
Jazz mysteries, LBM enjoys eating spicy Thai noodles and blueberry ice cream, riding a bike, and reading. Not all at the same time, of course. At least, not anymore. But that’s another story. . . .
ABOUT THE ILLUSTRATOR
Amy Wummer has illustrated more than 50 children’s books. She uses pencils, watercolors, and ink—but not the invisible kind.
Amy and her husband, who is also an artist, live in Pennsylvania . . . in a mysterious old house which has a secret hidden room in the basement!
The Case of the Purple Pool Page 3