by Lewis B. Montgomery
illustrated by Amy Wummer
The KANE PRESS
New York
Text copyright © 2012 by Lewis B. Montgomery
Illustrations copyright © 2012 by Amy Wummer
Super Sleuthing Strategies original illustrations copyright © 2012 by Kane Press, Inc.
Super Sleuthing Strategies original illustrations by Nadia DiMattia
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher. For information regarding permission, contact the publisher through its website: www.kanepress.com.
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Montgomery, Lewis B.
The case of the diamonds in the desk / by Lewis B. Montgomery ; illustrated by Amy Wummer.
p. cm. — (The Milo & Jazz mysteries ; 8)
Summary: Detectives-in-training Milo and Jazz must work backward to solve the case of the diamonds that mysteriously appeared in Milo's desk at school.
ISBN 978-1-57565-391-4 (pbk. ) — ISBN 978-1-57565-392-1 (library binding) — ISBN 978-1-57565-393-8 (e-book)
[1. Mystery and detective stories. 2. Schools—Fiction.] I. Wummer, Amy, ill. II. Title.
PZ7.M7682Cagm 2012
[Fic]—dc23
2011040121
1 3 5 7 9 10 8 6 4 2
First published in the United States of America in 2012 by Kane Press, Inc.
Printed in the United States of America
WOZ0112
Book Design: Edward Miller
The Milo & Jazz Mysteries is a registered trademark of Kane Press, Inc.
Visit us online at www.kanepress.com
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eISBN: 978-1-5756-5393-8 (pdf)
eISBN: 978-1-5756-5754-7 (ePub)
eISBN: 978-1-5756-5670-0 (mobi)
For the Setliffs, naturally!
—L.B.M.
Milo slouched at his desk, gazing at the board without really seeing it. He was thinking about stolen jewels.
Ever since he’d seen the news report the night before, he couldn’t get it off his mind. A real jewel heist! Just like in Whodunnit magazine!
The thieves had broken into a big jewelry store in the middle of the night. They smashed the glass showcases and scooped up all the gold and jewels. They even blew open the vault and stole a diamond necklace and tiara made for Trixie Astor, the soap opera star.
Police were baffled. The jeweler’s insurance company was offering a $1 million reward.
Milo smiled dreamily. If only he and Jazz had a case like that to solve!
Milo and his friend Jazz were detectives in training. They got lessons in the mail from world-famous sleuth Dash Marlowe.
Together, Milo and Jazz had solved a bunch of cases right there in the town of Westview. But never anything like this. He could see the flashbulbs popping as they stepped forward for their reward. Maybe Dash Marlowe would show up! Dash would shake their hands and say—
“Milo, how many muffins do I have?” Mr. Davenport asked.
“Huh?” Milo stared at his teacher. Behind him, a girl giggled.
Mr. Davenport tapped his marker on the board. “I baked a batch of two dozen muffins. I ate a quarter of them. Then I baked two more batches and ate a third. So now what do I have?”
Milo struggled to think, then gave up. Weakly, he said, “A stomach ache?”
The teacher sighed. “Anyone else?”
As hands shot up around the room, Noah and Carlos twisted in their seats to give Milo sympathetic looks. He was glad the two of them were in his class this year, especially with Jazz banished across the hall. He missed all those notes written in invisible ink.
After math was art. As the students pulled their art smocks from their desks, Mr. Davenport called Milo up.
“Something special on your mind today?” the teacher asked.
Milo swallowed. “Well, uh . . .”
“Listen, I know right now math may not seem—” Mr. Davenport broke off, his head whipping around. “Well, for the love of Pete!”
Mr. Davenport dashed to the window and stared out. Milo followed him. All he saw was the empty playground.
“I could have sworn . . .” The teacher shook his head and turned back to Milo. “So, ah . . . I was saying . . .” He frowned. “What was I saying?”
“Um . . . math?” Milo said.
“Math. Yes. Right.” Mr. Davenport glanced out the window again. “Well . . . try to keep your head in the game from now on, okay?”
“I will,” Milo promised.
To his relief, the teacher let him go. The other students had already lined up at the door.
Milo ran to his desk. He pulled the top open, grabbed his folded smock—and froze.
Something glittered in his desk. Something like . . . diamonds.
Diamonds?
Slowly, Milo reached into his desk. He felt the cool, hard stones under his fingers as he picked up the object. It really was! A diamond necklace! In his desk!
“Care to join us, Milo?”
Startled, he dropped the necklace back into the desk and slammed it shut. Mr. Davenport watched from the door as Milo rushed to join his classmates, who were filing out into the hall.
His mind was in a whirl. Where had the necklace come from? And how did it get in his desk? Could this be connected to the jewel heist he’d seen on TV?
In the art room, he tried to focus on his toothpick sculpture, but it was impossible. Finally, while the art teacher was helping another student, Milo slipped out of the room. He had to look at that necklace again!
He hurried down the hall, hoping that Mr. Davenport was taking a break in the teachers’ lounge. But when he walked in, his teacher was crouched by Milo’s desk, staring down at the floor.
What was he doing? Milo wondered. Oh, no! What if Mr. Davenport had looked inside the desk? What if he’d seen the necklace?
Mr. Davenport jumped up. “What are you doing here?”
“I, uh . . .” Milo scrambled for an excuse. “I felt funny in art class. I think the glue smell made me woozy.”
His teacher gave him an odd look. “Do you need to go to the nurse?”
Milo shook his head. What did that look mean? Maybe Mr. Davenport had seen the news of the jewel heist, too. Maybe he thought Milo was the thief. Maybe he’d already called the police!
Mr. Davenport checked the clock. “Art class is almost over. Why don’t you sit down and rest?”
Milo sat and stared at his closed desk. He didn’t dare open it with his teacher in the room. If only he had X-ray vision!
At last, Mr. Davenport left to pick up the rest of the class from art. The instant he stepped out the door, Milo flipped up the lid. The necklace was still there, untouched.
Quickly, he slid it out and tucked it in the pocket of his jeans. He had to show it to Jazz. She would help figure out what to do.
It seemed like hours before the bell rang for recess. As the students piled out the door, Noah asked Milo, “Want to play foursquare?”
“I can’t today.”
Carlos came up on Milo’s other side. “You have to! If you don’t, Spencer will want Mandy to play.”
“What’s wrong with Mandy?” Milo asked. Mandy was a terrific ball player, maybe the best in their whole grade.
His friends gave each other a look.
“It isn’t Mandy,” Noah explained. “It’s Spencer. He’s awful around her.”
Carlos made kissy noises.
“Oh.” Milo hated to let them down, but he couldn’t think about foursquare at a time like this. He had to talk to Jazz.
He found her hanging on the zip line. When she saw him she dropped down, brushing her hands. He grabbed her arm and dragged her toward the far end of the playground.
“Hey, what are you— Milo! Quit pulling!”
Letting go, Milo glanced around to make sure nobody was watching. Then he pulled the diamond necklace from his pocket. Cupping it in his hands, he gave her a quick peek.
Jazz’s eyes widened. “Wow! Where did that come from?”
“I found it in my desk.”
“Your desk? How did it get in there?”
“I don’t know,” he said. “I went to get my art smock out and—there it was!”
“You mean it wasn’t there when you came in?” Jazz asked.
Milo tried to think. This morning, just like always, he had unloaded his backpack and dumped his books and homework into his desk. He certainly hadn’t seen the diamond necklace then. But had he even looked?
“I’m not sure,” he admitted.
Jazz took the necklace and held it up. The diamonds sparkled in the sunlight. “Do you think they’re real?”
Milo snatched the necklace back and stuffed it in his pocket. “Sure they are. Those thieves know what they’re doing.”
“Thieves? What thieves?” Jazz asked.
As Milo told her about the jewel heist, she lifted an eyebrow.
“But that store is in the city,” she said. “It’s hours away. What would the jewels be doing here?”
“Maybe the thieves are hiding out,” he said.
“In Westview? Why?”
“Why not? Nobody would expect to find them here.”
Jazz frowned. “Well, when we turn the necklace in—”
“Turn it in? But it’s a clue!”
She stared at him. “Milo, you’re not thinking about trying to solve this case?”
“Sure!” he said. “Why not? We’ve solved plenty of others.”
“But if these are actually stolen diamonds, this is serious. A real crime.”
“That’s why it’s our big chance!”
Jazz shook her head. “I think we should tell someone.”
“We will,” he promised. “Just not right away.”
“By the end of the day,” Jazz said.
“That’s not long enough! A week!”
She looked at him for a long moment. Then she said, “Twenty-four hours. Tops. Then, no matter what, we’re telling somebody. A teacher. Or our parents. Maybe even the police.”
Milo couldn’t wait to get started.
“What should we do first?” he asked. “Stake out my classroom? Wait! What about fingerprints?” Pulling the necklace out again, he peered at it. “I bet there are fingerprints all over this thing.”
“Yeah,” Jazz said. “Yours and mine.”
Oops.
“Well, the thieves probably wore gloves, anyway,” he said.
Jazz frowned. “You know, we can’t be sure that these are stolen diamonds. Maybe one of the girls in your class brought them to school.”
“How many girls our age have diamond necklaces?” Milo asked. “And even if one of the girls did have one, why would she wear it to school?”
“The diamonds could be fake.”
“They don’t look fake to me,” he said.
“Well . . . me neither.” Jazz shrugged. “But we’re not experts. Anyway, we should at least find out if anybody lost a necklace.”
Milo had to admit that made sense. They divvied up the girls—five for him, six for her—and headed off in opposite directions.
Jazz was the first one back. As Milo jogged up, she told him, “No luck here. The closest thing was Brooke—she lost a horse charm off her bracelet. You?”
He shook his head. “And I asked everyone—well, except Mandy. She was playing foursquare and she elbowed me out of the way.”
Jazz laughed. “I’ve never seen Mandy wear jewelry, anyway.”
Just then the bell rang for the end of recess. Milo and Jazz agreed to meet in the school library at the end of the day.
When Milo arrived, Jazz wasn’t there. He found a free computer and pulled up the latest news about the heist.
As he was reading, Jazz rushed in. “Sorry I’m late! I stopped to see my old kindergarten teacher.”
“Huh? What for?”
“Well, I was thinking,” she said. “Kindergartners have all that fancy dress-up stuff. . . .”
Milo jumped up. “You didn’t tell her what I found!”
Jazz shook her head. “I said I needed a fake diamond necklace for a costume. But she was sure she hadn’t put anything like that in the dress-up box.”
Milo felt the necklace in his pocket. “I still say it’s the real thing.”
“We could take it to a jewelry store,” Jazz suggested. “They could tell.”
“What if it’s worth a zillion dollars? They’ll ask where we got it. They might even think we’re the thieves.”
Jazz bit her lip. “Well, maybe we could look online. I bet there’s a way to tell real diamonds from fake ones.”
She reached toward the keyboard, and Milo moved over. Just then, a movement outside the window caught his eye.
“What in the world is he doing?”
“Who?” Jazz asked.
“My teacher.” Milo pointed. “I just saw him duck behind that tree. I think he’s hiding!”
“Hiding?” Jazz repeated. “Why would he do that?”
“I don’t know, but I want to find out!”
Not waiting to see if Jazz would follow, Milo dashed out of the library and down the hall.
Jazz caught up with him as he burst through the exit. Before she could speak, Milo yanked her behind a shrub.
At that moment, a black van swung into the parking lot. Mr. Davenport stepped out from behind the tree.
Jazz poked Milo. “Why are we—”
“Shhh!” he hissed.
Milo peeked around the bush. His teacher was waving with both hands. Not waving exactly—snatching wildly at the air.
A secret signal?
The black van pulled up. A man leaned out and called. “Dynamite Dan!”
Mr. Davenport dropped his arms and walked toward the van. “Come on, Nick. Nobody calls me that these days. It’s ancient history.”
The man laughed. “Didn’t look so ancient Sunday night. Come on, hop in.”
As the van roared off, Jazz stood up. “Want to tell me why we’re spying on your teacher?” She waited. “Milo? Milo?”
He looked up at her. Slowly he said, “Sunday night.”
“What about it?” Jazz demanded.
“Sunday night was when the jewelry store was robbed.”
“I can’t believe you think your teacher is a jewel thief!” Jazz said again.
“You keep saying that,” Milo said.
“Well, I can’t!”
They had been arguing the whole way home. The less Jazz listened to him, the more certain Milo became.
“He’s been acting weird all day. This morning he went running to the window, but when I looked out, there was nothing there. Then, later, I saw him crouching on the floor next to my desk. And now—hiding behind a tree!”
“Grownups always act funny,” Jazz said. “My dad dances to the music in the supermarket.”
“But what about what we just heard? Sunday night.”
“Milo, that makes no sense at all. Everybody did something Sunday night,” Jazz said.
“Something to do with being called Dynamite Dan?” he pressed. “One of the robbers was an expert with explosives.”
Jazz didn’t answer right away. Then she said, “Suppose Mr. Davenport really is a jewel thief. Wouldn’t he want to keep the diamonds? Why would he put them in your desk?”
“Maybe somebody was coming, and he had to hide them quick. Or maybe—” Milo gulped. “Do y
ou think he wanted to frame me?”
“Milo, he’s your teacher!”
“That could be a cover. You know, Mr. Davenport is new this year. How do we know he’s really a teacher at all?”
Jazz groaned. “Well, you can worry about phony teachers. I’m going to find out about phony diamonds.”
They dropped their backpacks in Milo’s front hall and headed straight to the computer. While Milo looked over her shoulder, Jazz typed in “diamond real or fake.” She clicked on the first result.
“It says here that a real diamond can scratch glass. That’s the most famous way to tell a real diamond from a fake.”
Pulling the necklace from his pocket, Milo glanced around the room. “There’s the window—”
“Milo! Your mom would kill you!” Jazz said. “Anyway, it says that isn’t a good test. Some fake diamonds can scratch glass too.”
“So how are we supposed to tell?”
Jazz scrolled down. “We could try the fog test.”
“What’s that?” Milo asked.
“You breathe on it. If the diamond gets foggy, like a mirror, it’s a fake. But if it’s clear, it’s real.”
They bent their heads together over the necklace. Milo took a deep breath in, then let it out. Huuuuuuuunnhhh . . .
Jazz reeled back. “Your breath smells terrible! What did you have for lunch?”
“Jazz, look!”
The diamonds were sparkling clear.
Milo and Jazz stared at each other.
“They are real!” Milo said.
“Sure looks that way,” Jazz agreed. “Wow!”
Just then, they heard a key turning in the front door. Quickly, Milo shoved the necklace in his pocket.
His mom came in lugging a load of groceries, her keys in one hand and the day’s mail in the other. His little brother, Ethan, trailed behind, making Darth Vader noises through his nose.
The Case of the Diamonds in the Desk Page 1