“Good cooks are flexible,” said Melody. “That’s what my mother says.”
“We could even make the rice Chinese-style,” I said.
“I love Chinese food,” said Princess.
“You’re ganging up on me,” said Kate. “All except Brian.”
“I like rice,” said Brian.
“Okay, okay,” said Kate. “We’ll make rice and meatballs. But not Chinese-style. This is an Italian cooking club. Everybody smile. We have to practice for the TV cameras.”
Rice with meatballs wasn’t half bad.
I was the last one out the door.
Kate stopped me. “Do you think Princess did it on purpose?”
“Did what?”
“Rice instead of rotini.”
“No.”
“Well, if she did, you’ve got a case.”
New Additions
The cooking club skipped Tuesday because of Melody’s ballet lesson. That was all right. My mother missed me at dinner on Monday, anyway. So she was glad on Tuesday.
On Wednesday we met at Melody’s house. I brought olive oil. Kate brought garlic. Princess brought spaghetti. And Melody had everything else.
Before we got started, the doorbell rang.
“Are you expecting someone?” Kate asked Melody.
Melody shook her head.
“Well, whoever it is, make them go away,” said Kate. “This is cooking club time.”
We followed Melody to the door.
“Hi.” Jack stood with a soccer ball under his arm. Another guy stood behind him. He had a soccer ball too. “We came to be tasters,” said Jack.
Melody smiled big. She’d been smiling a lot at Jack lately.
“How did you find out about my cooking club?” asked Kate.
“Brian told me.”
Brian clapped. “We played shuffleboard yesterday. I brought the pucks.”
“Who’s that?” asked Princess. She smiled at the other guy.
“My cousin Noah. He’s staying with me for a while.”
“Oh,” said Kate.
“Well, come in,” said Melody.“We have plenty.”
“Hey, this is my club,” said Kate. “I decide.”
“It’s my house,” said Melody.
Kate opened her mouth.Then shut it.Then opened it. Then shut it. She reminded me of Jack’s fish. She turned to the boys. “Tasters are an okay addition. Come in, Jack. And Noah.”
We went back into the kitchen.
“What’s that?” Kate pointed at the spaghetti box. “It’s brown.”
The spaghetti showed through the cellophane window of the box. Kate was right. Brown spaghetti.
Melody read the label. “Brown rice spaghetti.”
“You brought rice again,” said Kate. “Are you trying to make trouble, Princess?”
“It’s spaghetti,” said Princess. “It’s just made from rice.”
“What is it, Chinese spaghetti?” Kate glared at Princess.
“It’s an experiment,” said Princess.“It’s good for you.”
Kate put her fists on her hips and stared at me.
I could feel a case coming on.
“We said we’d make food that’s good for you,” said Melody.
Kate kept staring at me.
Yup, there was definitely a case coming on.
“I like rice,” said Brian.
“I like everything,” said Jack.
Noah didn’t talk.
“Well, I guess we’ll have to try it,” said Kate. Brown spaghetti turned out to taste better than it looked. But it didn’t taste normal.
“Listen,” said Princess. “No one else has to bring anything tomorrow. I’ll get all the ingredients, since I messed up.”
Kate brightened. “That’s fair.”
It wasn’t really fair. But Princess seemed to want to do it.
The Rest of the Week
On Thursday we met at Princess’s house. It felt funny coming empty-handed.
“We’re going to have a treat today,” Princess announced. “Chocolate fondue.”
“What’s that?” said Brian.
“Fruit dipped in melted chocolate.”
“That’s not Italian,” said Kate. “You were supposed to make macaroni. All our recipes are pasta.”
“Pasta schmasta,” said Jack.
“I get it,” said Brian. “That means fruit’s better than pasta, right?”
“Right,” said Princess.
“And anything chocolate is good,” said Melody.
“And anything fruit.” I grinned.
Noah didn’t talk.
Princess had us wash strawberries and cut up bananas and apples. She made Jack and Noah set the table.
I cut the apples into wedges.
Jack ate the cores.
“Ew,” said Princess. “That’s gross.”
Jack stuffed two in his mouth at once.
Princess’s eyes got huge.
Jack laughed so hard, he spit apple everywhere.
“You better not do that on TV,” said Kate. “And you better clean it up, or I’ll go find Princess’s mother and tell on you.”
Jack smirked. But he mopped the floor.
On Friday we met at my house. Kate brought linguine. Melody brought basil. I made sure we had the rest, because Princess couldn’t come.
We ate well.
And Jack behaved. He hated mopping floors.
Noah behaved too, of course. I wondered if he knew how to misbehave.
Afterward Kate said, “If you boys are going to keep coming, you have to bring ingredients.”
“Sure,” said Jack. “I’ll bring whatever’s in the fridge at home.”
“That’s not how recipes work,” said Kate.
“Take it or leave it,” said Jack.
Melody looked at Kate with pleading eyes.
“Well . . . ” said Kate. “I suppose that could work if you bring appetizers.”
“Are pickles appetizers?” asked Jack.
“Pickles?” Kate wrinkled her nose.
“We can arrange them cute on a plate,” said Melody
“I’ve got peanut butter too,” said Jack.
“Peanut butter?” yelped Kate.
“Appetizers don’t have to match the meal,” I said.“They just have to taste good. And who doesn’t like peanut butter?”
“All right, all right,” said Kate. “But, Jack, you better not make trouble like Princess.”
Trouble or no trouble, ending the week with a fruit fest and then linguine with pesto was perfect.
I liked cooking club.
A Case All Along
It was a chilly Saturday morning. Brian worked on his project. He was printing MASCOOK on an old T-shirt. He explained to me about the ook family: look, book, hook, cook. He really was smart.
He was happy.
But I was restless. Then I remembered.
“Hey, Brian. You have to stop trading your toys for junk food.”
“Why?”
“First of all, you love your toys.”
“I trade yours. And Melody’s.They’re not as good as mine.”
I almost laughed. “And, worse, it’s sneaking behind your mother’s back. You can’t do that.”
“Okay.”
Okay? Just like that? “Promise?”
“Yes.”
Now what? I paced.
What I needed was a new case. It was time to advertise. I took out my sign. I scratched Taxi up and down her back while I looked at it.
Taxi had asked for extra love lately. My mother said the T-shirt episode was traumatic for her. It turns out cats hate clothes.
Taxi seemed to have forgiven us, though. She purred loud. I fed her the last fishy cookie I had.
This sign wasn’t bad. But it wasn’t good either. And I had new poster board now. Maybe I could make a better one.
Knock knock.
I opened the door.
“I need to hire you,” said Kate. She doesn’t beat ar
ound the bush.
“Magic,” said Brian.
“My case isn’t about magic,” said Kate.
“He means my sign,” I said. “It works without being seen.”
“Are you nuts?” asked Kate. No, she sure doesn’t beat around the bush.
I sniffed indignantly. “What’s the case?”
“Princess.”
I knew this was coming. And I had already decided how to handle it. After all, Princess was my friend too. “Princess is a case?” I asked.
“Yes.”
“Since when?” I asked.
“All along,” said Kate. “Since she said ‘Oh, no.’”
“When did she say ‘Oh, no’?”
“When I started the club. Her attitude stinks. Something’s cooking with her, all right.”
Brian laughed. “I get it.”
“What?” said Kate.
I grinned. “Did you hear what you just said?”
Kate looked at me. She gave a little smile of surprise. Then she frowned. “The real truth is just the opposite. Nothing’s cooking with her. Princess is ruining the cooking club. And I want you to stop her.You’re hired.”
What Sleuths Do
“Sleuths don’t stop people,” I said. “Sleuths find out who’s doing what. And why.”
“Then find out why Princess wants to ruin my club,” said Kate. “And I’ll stop her.”
“How do you know she wants to ruin it?”
“She brought rice instead of rotini,” said Kate.
“That was a mistake.”
“She brought brown spaghetti,” said Kate.
“That was an experiment.”
“She made chocolate fondue with fruit.”
“That was delicious,” I said.
“You’re making trouble,” said Kate. “Just like Princess. Are you going to help me or not?”
“I don’t think there’s a case here, Kate.”
“Yes there is. Princess didn’t even come to the club on Friday. Then, this morning, I invited her over for pancakes.”
“I love pancakes,” said Brian.
“Why did you invite her?” I asked.
“Do I need a reason?”
“I just thought it might be something special.”
“Well, it wasn’t special,” said Kate. “It was ordinary. And she said no.”
“I wouldn’t say no,” said Brian. He pulled his MASCOOK T-shirt on over his sweater.
Kate’s mother made amazing pancakes. “Did you tell her your mother adds fresh fruit?”
“Yes.”
“Oh,” I said. I wondered why Kate hadn’t invited me. I love fresh fruit.
“See?” Kate’s voice got quiet. “See, Sly? Princess is up to something.”
It did seem to add up. “Maybe there’s a grain of truth in what you’re saying.”
“And I haven’t told you the worst yet.” Kate blinked hard. Her voice got even quieter. “Princess said she can’t stay in the club. And after I made it Italian food, just for her. Just because her father’s from Italy. Just so she’d feel welcome, being the new kid in school and all. And now she won’t even be in it.”
“Did she say why not?”
“No. But I know,” said Kate.
“You think she wants to ruin the club,” I said. “You told me.”
“And I know why.”
“Really? Then you don’t need me.”
“Yes I do. She wants to ruin it because she hates me.” Kate’s voice cracked. She wiped her nose with the back of her hand. “You have to find out why she hates me. Is that something a sleuth can do?”
I stepped close to her. Brian came close too. Even Taxi came close.
No one likes being hated. Taxi understood that. She’d want me to take this case. Probably any cat would.
“Sure, Kate. Definitely.”
Kate sniffled. “That’s a cute T-shirt,” she said to Brian.
Princess’s Kitchen
I stood outside Princess’s house. The sidewalk was empty. I shifted from foot to foot. I scratched my neck. And ribs. And bottom.
How did you ask someone if they hated someone else?
And if they said yes, how did you convince them not to?
Maybe I shouldn’t have taken this case.
“Are you casing the joint?”
I spun around.
Jack and Noah. They had appeared from nowhere.
“How did you get here? A second ago there was no one on the street.”
“Tricks,” said Jack.
Noah didn’t talk.
“Go away,” I said. “I’m on a case.”
“Then I was right! You are casing the joint.” Jack gave Noah the high five. “We’ll help.”
“I don’t need help.”
“Hello!” Princess stood at her door. “Did you come over to see me?” Her eyes were on Noah. “Come in.”
Jack walked ahead of us. “Got any chocolate fondue left?”
“No. But we have carrot sticks. And veggie dip.”
“I like everything,” said Jack.
Princess opened the fridge. She put carrot sticks on a tray. And veggie dip. She added chunks of cheese. And cut-up cauliflower.
This looked like a health food tray. Was her mother friends with Brian’s mother?
Then it hit me. None of the food on that tray was Italian. And none of the food Princess had contributed to the cooking club so far was Italian.
And when Kate had called Princess Italian, Princess had said no—she was American.
Maybe it was odd enough being the new kid at school. Maybe Princess didn’t want to be known as the Italian kid too. Maybe Kate had picked exactly the wrong kind of cooking to welcome Princess with.
I didn’t like making Princess feel odd. But I had to help Kate. “Is that Italian cheese?” I asked softly.
“Of course.” Princess looked proud. “We buy tons of Italian cheese. It’s great.”
So much for that idea. I was back at square one. Poor Kate. I might never figure this case out.
“Got any crackers?” asked Jack. “For the cheese.”
Jack sure was rude. It was true, though: Crackers went great with cheese.
Princess opened a cupboard. She put a box on the tray. Yellow, with black specks. I read the label. Peppery corn crackers.
“Want to sit in the sunroom? Come on.” Princess picked up the tray.
Noah jumped in front of her. He grabbed the edges of the tray.
Princess struggled to hold on.
“Let go,” said Noah at last. So he could talk, after all.
“He wants to carry it for you,” said Jack.
“Oh.” Princess let go. “Oh. Thanks.”
Noah carried the tray out to the sunroom.
I lingered in the kitchen. The cupboard was still open. Cornmeal. Rice flour. Millet. Quinoa.
Wasn’t millet bird food?
And what on earth was quinoa?
Orange Grove
At the back of a shelf was a box of ordinary crackers. I took them out to the sunroom.
Wow. Princess’s sunroom was way better than my porch. It was filled with trees in giant pots.
“What’re those?” Jack pointed to the round, green fruits.
“Oranges.”
I recognized them now. The trees were loaded with them. And some were turning color.
Jack whistled. “An orange grove. Right here in your house.”
“My father grew oranges as a boy,” said Princess.
“Back in Italy,” I said helpfully.
“Sicily,” said Princess.
“Sicily is part of Italy,” I said.
“Not according to my father.” Princess smiled. “He says Sicily is its own place. Anyway, he still grows oranges. Wherever we live. We bought this house because of the big sunroom.”
“You should have served the cooking club oranges instead of apples,” said Jack.
“I don’t like orange with chocolate. Besides, they aren’t
ripe yet.”
I saw my opening. “Talking about eating,” I said, “let’s eat.”
I took a little of everything.
Jack and Noah heaped their plates with a lot of everything.
Princess took a little of everything. Except the crackers I brought out.The ordinary ones.
“Want a cracker, Princess?” I pushed the box toward her.
“No thanks.”
I wasn’t surprised.
“This is like a party,” I said.“Maybe I should call Kate. What do you think, Princess?”
“Sure,” said Princess.
I wasn’t surprised at that either.
“And Melody,” said Jack.
“Actually,” I said, “I just remembered. Kate and Melody are busy right now.” I stuffed a cracker and cheese in my mouth. Princess was right: Italian cheese is great.
The Internet
I went into our family room. I sat down at the computer.
Millet is yellow grain from Africa and Asia. I was right: It is bird food. But it’s also people food.
Quinoa is a grain from Peru. You say it “keen-wah.” It has a nutty flavor.
I learned this from a website about food allergies. People who can’t eat wheat eat these other grains. And rice too. And corn.
Princess brought rice instead of rotini. She brought brown spaghetti made from rice instead of regular spaghetti. She served fruit and chocolate instead of macaroni and cheese.
And when she filled her plate in her sunroom, she ate corn crackers but not regular crackers.
I telephoned Princess.
“Hello.”
“Hi, Princess. Do you hate Italian food?”
“No, I like it.”
It was tough to ask, but I had to: “Do you hate Kate?”
“No, I like her.”
“Do you hate birthday parties?”
“Well, parts of them. But I go if I’m invited. Are you having one?”
“No. Is it the birthday-cake part you hate?”
“Yes,” said Princess.
“Are you allergic to wheat?”
Princess made a loud sigh. “You figured it out. I knew I should have quit the club right away. But I was afraid I’d have no one to play with. Kate’s recipes are awful.Wheat makes me feel yucky.”
Sly the Sleuth and the Food Mysteries Page 3