“Something for you,” his mom said, dropping an envelope by the computer.
A new lesson from Dash Marlowe!
Jazz hung over Milo’s shoulder as he tore open the envelope.
“Begin at the beginning,” people always say. But for a sleuth, that isn’t always good advice. To solve a case, often you have to begin at the end—then work backward to the beginning.
Once, I worked backward to solve an unusual theft at an amusement park. A teenage girl was waiting in the roller coaster line, when suddenly her purse was snatched away—by a big brown dog!
She chased the dog, but it disappeared into the crowd. The alarm was raised, and a few minutes later the amusement park staff nabbed the dog as it splashed happily at the bottom of the river rapids ride. But the purse was gone.
Luckily, I happened to be on the scene. I asked the people in line which way the dog had come from, and they pointed to the house of mirrors. From there, I traced the dog’s path back to the merry-go-round, the swinging pirate ship, and the Tilt-a-Whirl. Everyone had seen the big brown dog, but nobody had seen the purse.
Then I asked a little boy who had just gotten off the Tilt-a-Whirl. He told me the dog had come from the snack stand with a slice of pizza hanging from its mouth. “I’m hungry,” the boy added.
I questioned the young man who ran the snack stand. He immediately pulled the missing purse out from behind the counter. When he’d seen the dog running by with it, he’d held out a slice of pizza and the dog had dropped the purse. The young man explained that he was planning to turn in the purse as soon as his shift ended.
The girl was happy to get her purse back. She rewarded the little boy with a slice of pizza and said he was super cute. She said the dog was super cute, too. And the young man at the snack stand . . . well, the last I saw, he was helping the girl into a boat for two at the Tunnel of Love.
“So we need to work backward,” Milo said. “That means we should try to figure out everywhere Mr. Davenport has been since Sunday night.”
Jazz shook her head.
“But Dash says—”
“I don’t think it’s Mr. Davenport’s movements we need to trace,” she said. “I think it’s the necklace.”
“How are we supposed to do that?” Milo asked. “It’s not like my classroom has security cameras or anything.”
Jazz didn’t answer. Then, suddenly, she hopped off her stool and grabbed her jacket.
“Where are you going?” he asked.
“Back to school.”
“But everybody’s gone.”
“Not everybody,” Jazz replied. “Somebody is still there. And I think that somebody might be able to tell us how the diamonds got into your desk.”
The doors to the school were locked. Milo pressed his face to the glass. Inside, the hall was shadowy and dim.
Jazz tugged at his sleeve. “Come on!”
He followed her around the building. She peered in each classroom window as she passed. Stopping at one, she rapped it with her knuckles.
“Mrs. Peach!” She rapped again, more loudly. “MRS. PEACH!”
The door to the playground opened. Mop in hand, the custodian leaned out. “Hey, kids. What’s up?”
Jazz stepped forward. “Mrs. Peach, did you find a lost necklace yesterday? Fancy? It looked like diamonds?”
“Necklace.” The custodian frowned. Then her face cleared. “Oh, sure, yeah. Stuck it in the desk.”
Jazz shot Milo a triumphant look.
“You put that necklace in my desk?” He stared at Mrs. Peach.
“Yours, huh?” She shook her mop at him. “You kids. If you didn’t have so much stuff, maybe you’d learn to take better care of it.”
“But—but it’s not my—”
Jazz broke in. “Do you remember where you found the necklace?”
“Right there on the floor by the desk,” Mrs. Peach said. “That’s why I put it in. Otherwise, it’d go to Lost and Found.”
Milo said, “You didn’t think that was kind of a funny thing to find in school? A diamond necklace?”
Mrs. Peach looked at him. “Honey, you would not believe the things I find. An empty bottle labeled ‘Liquid Butt’?”
Jazz wrinkled her nose. “That was one of Gordy Fletcher’s pranks. It smells like—”
“I know,” Mrs. Peach said. “Anyway, I figured the diamonds had to be fake. Who’d bring a real diamond necklace to school?”
Milo shot Jazz a sideways glance. That was the question. Who would bring diamonds to school? And why?
The custodian told them she needed to get back to work. As the door closed behind her, Jazz said, “Now we know how the necklace got in your desk.”
“But how did it get on the floor?” Milo asked.
“Whoever had it must have dropped it by mistake,” Jazz said.
“Mr. Davenport.”
“Or somebody else.”
“Like who?” Milo said. “One of the boys in my class? We already asked all the girls.”
“Except for Mandy.”
They looked at each other.
“We have to hurry,” Milo said. “Dad promised to bring Chinese takeout home, and Ethan is an egg roll fiend.” If Milo wasn’t there, his little brother wouldn’t leave him anything but drippy broccoli.
Mandy’s house was only two blocks from the school. They found her outside, bouncing a soccer ball from knee to knee. When she saw them, she grinned. “Think fast!”
Whoomph. The ball smacked into Milo’s stomach.
As he doubled over, Mandy said, “Oh . . . sorry. You okay?”
Jazz scooped the ball from the ground and tossed it to Mandy. The other girl trapped it with her foot and flipped it back up to her knees.
“Milo found a necklace at school,” Jazz said. “Did you lose one?”
“Me?” Mandy shook her head.
Jazz sighed. “Oh, well. I couldn’t really picture you in diamonds.”
The soccer ball dropped to the ground and rolled away.
“Diamonds,” Mandy said slowly. “Can I see them?”
Jazz turned to Milo. He shrugged. Pulling the necklace from his pocket, he dangled it on his fingers.
“Oh, yeah. That’s it!” Mandy said.
“That’s what?” Jazz asked.
“I did lose it,” Mandy explained. “When he gave it to me, I was playing freeze tag. I stuck it in my jacket pocket and forgot about it.” She shook her head. “I wish he wouldn’t do stuff like that. It’s embarrassing.”
Milo and Jazz looked at each other.
“Who?” Jazz asked.
A pink flush spread across Mandy’s cheeks. “Spencer.”
“Let me get this straight,” Jazz said. “Spencer gave you a diamond necklace and you forgot?”
“Well, Noah tagged me and unfroze me, so I had to run,” Mandy explained. “Besides, it’s not like they’re real diamonds, right? We’re talking about Spencer, not Richie Rich.”
Milo looked at the stones glittering in his hand. But they were real. Where had Spencer gotten them?
Glancing at Jazz, he could tell she was wondering the same thing.
“Can we keep it?” she asked Mandy. “Just until tomorrow?”
Mandy shrugged. “Keep it forever if you like.”
Mandy’s father called her in to set the table, so they said goodbye and left.
“Okay,” Jazz said. “You found the necklace in your desk today, which Mrs. Peach found on the floor last night—”
“Which must have fallen out of Mandy’s pocket when she put her jacket on at the end of the day,” Milo put in.
“Which Mandy got from Spencer during recess yesterday,” Jazz finished. “But where did Spencer get it?” She stopped and pulled out her detective notebook and her purple sparkle pen. Then, working backward, she wrote down each person who’d had the diamond necklace at school.
Jazz tapped her pen against her teeth. “So now the question is: who did Spencer get the necklace from?”
“Mr. Davenport? Dynamite Dan?”
“Milo!”
“Well, Spencer didn’t buy a diamond necklace, that’s for sure. Mandy is right. He isn’t a boy millionaire.”
Milo thought about their friend. Spencer tended to get a bit carried away. Giving Mandy an over-the-top present was just his style.
But would he steal to do it? That, Milo couldn’t believe. Nobody he knew was more honest than Spencer.
So how did he get the necklace?
Jazz looked worried, too. “We need to talk to Spencer.”
“I’ll call him right after dinner.”
She shook her head. “I think we should go to his house. Now.”
Milo could almost smell the wontons disappearing down his brother’s throat. Did Dash Marlowe ever have to make a sacrifice like this to solve a case?
He sighed. “Okay, let’s go.”
Spencer answered the door with his parrot, Floyd, perched on his shoulder. “Hey, guys! Come in!”
Milo edged inside, keeping clear of Floyd’s sharp beak. That parrot had it in for him.
“RELAX!” Floyd screeched.
Milo jumped back.
Spencer laughed. “My mom’s got a new meditation CD she plays when I’m at school. It’s supposed to make her feel peaceful or something. Now Floyd is always telling me to close my eyes and breathe.”
“Why can’t you breathe with your eyes open?” Milo asked.
Spencer shrugged. “Ask Floyd.”
Milo eyed the parrot doubtfully. Floyd glared back at him and snarled, “YOU FEEL CALM AND SAFE.”
Jazz said, “Spencer, we were just at Mandy’s house and she said you gave her a necklace yesterday.”
“Does she like it?” Spencer asked eagerly.
Milo and Jazz exchanged a glance.
Instead of answering, Jazz asked, “Where did you get it?”
Spencer’s face changed. He stepped backward. “Uh . . .”
“LET GO,” Floyd squawked from his shoulder perch. “FEEL YOUR BODY MELT INTO THE FLOOR.”
Spencer looked as if he would be more than happy to melt into the floor.
“Tell us where you got the necklace,” Jazz said. “It’s important. Please.”
“Okay!” Spencer burst out. “I know I should have taken it to Lost and Found. But it was just lying on the playground. Finders keepers, right?”
“A diamond necklace?” Jazz said.
“Well, I knew it had to be a fake,” Spencer explained. “But it was pretty. And Mandy—she’s—she’s so—”
“Never mind about Mandy,” Milo cut in hastily. “Where on the playground?”
Spencer looked surprised. “In the grass near the foursquare court. Why—do you know who lost it?”
“Not yet,” Jazz told him. “But we’re going to find out.”
To Milo’s relief, when he got home his parents had just started to unpack the Chinese takeout. Sliding into his place at the table, he dug in.
He was chasing a piece of chicken around the plate with his chopsticks when his father asked, “Did you hear about the robbery on Highland Drive?”
Milo looked up.
“Really, a robbery?” his mother said. “Here?”
His father nodded. “I heard Chief Smalley talking about it at the barber shop. No sign of a break-in, but the woman reported a diamond necklace missing.”
Milo’s chopsticks skidded. The chunk of chicken flew across the table, landing in his brother’s drink.
Ethan let out a wail. “Ewwww!”
“It was an accident!” Milo said. “Besides, it all ends up in the same place.”
“Then you drink chicken soda!”
Milo turned to his mother. “Can I please clear my place?”
“I got almond cookies for dessert,” his father said.
Milo hesitated. He loved almond cookies. But he had a case to solve. Cookie . . . or case?
He sighed. “That’s okay. I’m full.”
Grabbing the phone, he rushed to his room and dialed. Jazz’s oldest brother, Dylan, answered. “She’s right here.”
“Hello?” Jazz said.
Quickly, Milo told her about the robbery on Highland Drive. “You see? This proves it!”
“Proves what?” she asked.
“The jewel thieves really are hiding out here in our town!”
Jazz was silent for a moment. “Milo. You found a diamond necklace, right?”
“Right.”
“And the police say that a woman lost a diamond necklace.”
“Stolen,” he said. “From her house.”
“So if it’s the same necklace—”
“Got to be!”
“Then how can it have anything to do with the big jewel heist?” Jazz asked.
Oh.
“Okay, maybe our necklace isn’t the one they blew the safe for,” he admitted. “But the robbers are the same.”
“How do you know?”
“Dynamite Dan! I mean, come on. How many explosive experts do we have in Westview?”
“They blew up the woman’s house?” Jazz asked.
“Well . . . no. Actually, my dad said there was no sign of a break-in. But that just goes to show what pros they are.”
Silence.
“Jazz?”
“We need to go to the police.”
“But we’re so close!” Milo protested. “And you gave us twenty-four hours to crack the case.”
“Milo, we could get in real trouble!” Jazz said.
“I’m the one who has the necklace,” he said stubbornly.
Jazz sighed. “I hope jail food tastes better than school lunches. . . . Okay, what do we do next?”
“We need a witness. Somebody who saw Mr. Davenport drop the necklace on the playground.”
“If somebody saw him drop it, wouldn’t they have told him?” Jazz said. “Anyway, maybe it was someone else.”
“Like who? We asked all the girls. You think it was a boy?”
“Or it could have been there before we came out for recess,” she pointed out. “The second graders get the playground before us.”
“A second grader with a diamond necklace?” Milo said.
“Well, I still think we need to go to the police,” Jazz said. “When we give them the necklace, you can tell them your suspicions about Mr. Davenport.”
“They’d never believe me,” he said. “They’d just say I was mad because he gives us too much homework or something. We need proof.”
“Like what?”
He shook his head. “I don’t know.”
But later in the evening, it came to him. If his teacher had brought one piece of stolen jewelry to school, he could have brought others.
Maybe Mr. Davenport’s desk drawers were stuffed with gold and diamonds!
Milo ran to the phone and left a message for Jazz.
“Meet me at school early tomorrow,” he said. “I’ve got a plan.”
When Milo arrived at school the next morning, Jazz was waiting outside.
“So, what’s your plan?” she asked.
“I’m going to sneak into my classroom and search Mr. Davenport’s desk,” he said.
Jazz stared at him. “That’s not a plan. That’s just a really, really bad idea. You can’t go digging in a teacher’s desk.”
“You can if he’s a jewel thief.”
“Oh, Milo. What if you get caught?” she asked.
“Don’t worry. We’ll be careful.”
“We?”
“You only have to be my lookout,” Milo explained.
“No!” Jazz crossed her arms and planted her purple clogs firmly on the pavement. “No way!”
Milo knew he didn’t have much time. If Mr. Davenport wasn’t already in the classroom, he’d be there soon.
“Fine,” he said. “I’ll do it by myself.” Before Jazz could say anything else, he pushed into the school.
Inside, he told the monitor he needed to go to the bathroom, and she nodded. As soon as she
turned away, he headed the other way down the hall.
The light was on in his classroom. Milo peeked through the open door. Nobody there.
Cautiously, he slipped into the room. He edged toward Mr. Davenport’s desk. All he needed was a minute to check the drawers and—
“GOTCHA!”
Milo leapt back as Mr. Davenport dove out headfirst from behind his desk. The teacher’s hand slammed to the floor, missing Milo’s shoe by an inch.
Milo gaped down at him in horror.
Keeping his cupped hand on the floor, Mr. Davenport looked up. “Murgantia histrionica!”
The words sounded to Milo like a wizard’s spell. He backed away.
“Come here,” his teacher ordered.
Reluctantly, Milo moved closer.
Mr. Davenport lifted his hand slowly from the floor. “Look!”
Milo looked. It was . . .
“A bug?”
“Murgantia histrionica,” the teacher repeated triumphantly. “Harlequin bug. Cute, huh?” He beamed at the tiny red-and-black insect as if it were a puppy.
Milo wasn’t sure what to do. Squatting down, he reached out cautiously.
Mr. Davenport said, “Oh, I wouldn’t touch—”
Bleeechhh!
Milo yanked his hand away and fell back, spluttering. “It stinks!”
“Oh, yes,” Mr. Davenport agreed cheerfully. “One of the stinkbug family. Better go wash your hand.”
Milo rushed to the boys’ bathroom. As he pumped soap into his palms and scrubbed, he tried to make sense of what had just happened.
Was Mr. Davenport the strangest jewel thief ever? Or did his odd behavior have nothing to do with the heist at all?
Rushing to the window during class to stare at nothing, crawling around on the floor, creeping around outdoors, and grabbing at the air—could it all be about bugs?
By the time Milo got back to the classroom, a faint aroma hovering around him, the rest of the students had come in.
The Case of the Diamonds in the Desk Page 2