by Ron Roy
Photo credits: pp. this page–this page courtesy of the Library of Congress.
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, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Text copyright © 2005 by Ron Roy
Illustrations copyright © 2005 by Timothy Bush
All rights reserved. Published in the United States by Random House Children’s Books, a division of Random House, Inc., New York.
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Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Roy, Ron.
Who broke Lincoln’s thumb? / by Ron Roy; illustrated by Timothy Bush.
p. cm. — (Capital mysteries; #5)
“A Stepping Stone Book.”
Summary: When they discover that one of the thumbs has been broken off the statue in the Lincoln Memorial, KC and Marshall set out to learn what happened and restore the thumb before a ceremony honoring the sculptor.
eISBN: 978-0-307-54923-5
[1. Lost and found possessions—Fiction. 2. Lincoln Memorial (Washington, D.C.)—Fiction. 3. Statues—Fiction. 4. Washington (D.C.)—Fiction. 5. Mystery and detective stories.] I. Bush, Timothy, ill. II. Title. III. Series. PZ7.R8139Wk 2005 [Fic]—dc22 2004027362
Random House Children’s Books supports the First Amendment and celebrates the right to read.
v3.1_r1
This book is dedicated to Bo Sanchez.
—R.R.
Contents
Cover
Title Page
Map
Copyright
Dedication
1. Did You Lose Something, President Lincoln?
2. Mr. President, We Have a Problem
3. The Red Runaround
4. The Color of Clues
5. The Snoring Suspect
6. The $100,000 Thumb
7. Labels and Ladders
8. Who Broke Lincoln’s Thumb?
9. The Capture and the Cake
1
Did You Lose Something,
President Lincoln?
“So do I have to call you Miss Corcoran now?” Marshall Li asked his friend KC Corcoran. KC’s mom had married President Zachary Thornton, and KC was now living in the White House.
KC and Marshall were walking toward the Lincoln Memorial.
“No, you can still call me KC,” she said. “But don’t forget to bow every time you see me.”
Marshall laughed. Then something caught his eye. He squatted down in front of a rosebush. “Wow, look at that!” he cried. A fat black and yellow spider was dangling from its web in the bush.
“No thanks!” KC said. “You look at it for me!”
“But he’s so beautiful,” Marshall said, inching closer to the spider. He loved most animals, but especially the kinds with six or eight legs. Marshall dreamed of getting a job in the insect room at the Museum of Natural History.
KC pulled him back. “Come on, Marsh, before it decides to rain again.”
The morning had started out cloudy, and then the sky had turned black. Wind had howled through Washington, D.C., and large raindrops had pelted down.
By ten o’clock, the rain had stopped. The sun broke through the clouds as KC and Marshall crossed the lawn near the Reflecting Pool. Gusts of wind blew leaves all around their feet.
“I don’t understand why you need to take pictures of Abraham Lincoln’s statue,” Marshall said. They had reached the wide lawn in front of the Memorial.
“I told you on the phone this morning,” KC said. “But you were feeding Spike and you weren’t paying attention.”
Spike was Marshall’s pet tarantula, who slept inside a baseball cap in Marshall’s room.
“So tell me again,” Marshall said, grinning. “I promise to listen!”
“Mr. Alubicki told us to do a report on a famous person, right?” KC asked.
“Right,” Marshall said. “I’m doing mine on Spider-Man.”
KC looked at him in amazement. “Marshall, Spider-Man is a comic-book character, not a real person,” she said.
Marshall grinned. “Mr. A didn’t say the person had to be real. Spider-Man is definitely famous!”
“Well, mine will be about Daniel Chester French,” KC said.
“Who’s he?” Marshall asked as they walked toward the Lincoln Memorial.
“A famous sculptor! He sculpted Abraham Lincoln’s statue,” KC said. “It took him four years!” She reached into her backpack and pulled out her new digital camera, a gift from the president.
“How do you know all this stuff?” Marshall asked.
KC planned to become a TV anchor-woman someday. Her hobby was memorizing a lot of facts.
“I read a lot about him in the newspaper,” KC said. “The president has declared today Daniel Chester French Day. There was a big article about the ceremony at five o’clock tonight.”
“Will there be cake and ice cream?” asked Marshall.
“Probably,” KC said, nodding toward the Lincoln Memorial. “Look, isn’t that prettier than some hairy old spider?”
Now that the storm had passed, people were on the lawn in front of the Lincoln Memorial enjoying the day. A couple of little kids were trying to fly a kite, but the wind kept crashing it to the ground. Two young men were tossing a Frisbee back and forth.
KC and Marshall climbed the wide steps and walked between the columns in front of the Lincoln statue. They stared up at Lincoln’s calm face, high above them. Daniel Chester French had sculpted him sitting in a big chair, which stood on top of a ten-foot platform.
An aluminum ladder leaned against the platform. A black ladder lay on the floor next to two buckets of cleaning supplies.
“I read that the statue is nineteen feet high from Lincoln’s feet to the top of his head,” KC told Marshall. “And if Lincoln could stand up, he’d be twenty-eight feet tall!”
A man and woman were standing in front of the statue with a little kid who was sucking his thumb. The man was snapping pictures. The camera’s flash blazed each time the shutter clicked.
Suddenly the man pulled his camera away from his face. He stared at the statue, then said, “I don’t believe it!”
“What?” the woman asked.
The man pointed upward toward Lincoln’s left hand. “His thumb is gone!” the man said.
KC and Marshall rushed forward. “Oh my gosh!” KC cried. “One of his thumbs is missing!”
Where Lincoln’s left thumb should have been, there was just a stump.
The man grinned down at his son. “That’s what happens when people suck their thumbs,” he joked.
“Do you suppose the thumb just fell off?” the woman asked.
“If it did, it should be here,” the man said, glancing down at the area near the statue. “But it’s not.”
“Come on, Daddy,” the little boy said. “You promised we could see the Air and Space Museum!”
The family hurried away, passing two men coming up the steps. One was tall and skinny. The other was short and stumpy, like a fire hydrant.
They were wearing gray work shirts with NATIONAL PARK SERVICE stitched over the pockets.
“Did you come about Lincoln’s thumb?” KC asked when the men reached the statue.
“What thumb?” the tall man aske
d.
Marshall pointed up to Lincoln’s left hand. “That thumb, only it’s gone,” he said.
Both men stood under the statue gazing up.
“Well, I’ll be darned,” said the tall man. “It was here a while ago, wasn’t it, Stub?”
The man named Stub nodded. “Righto, Ralphie. When I dusted his hands, Abe had both his thumbs,” he said.
“Why did you dust him?” KC asked.
“We’re cleaning the statue for the ceremony tonight,” Stub answered. “We just took a little coffee break. When we left, he still had his thumb!”
Ralphie pulled a snapshot out of his pocket and handed it to KC. “Some tourist took this and gave it to me,” he said.
KC and Marshall looked at the picture. In it, Stub was standing on the black ladder with a dusting cloth in one hand. The ladder was up on the platform, leaning against Lincoln’s right knee.
KC and Marshall could easily see that Lincoln still had both his thumbs.
2
Mr. President,
We Have a Problem
“Do you mind if I go up on your ladders for a minute?” KC asked. “I want to see that hand close up.”
Ralphie shook his head. “Sorry, miss,” he said. “We could get in trouble for letting a civilian use our equipment.”
“I’m not exactly a regular civilian,” KC said. “My mother is married to President Thornton.”
Both men gawked at KC.
“You’re that kid?” Stub asked. “The First Daughter?”
KC nodded. “I’m KC Corcoran,” she said with a big smile. “And if you let me climb up there, I’ll tell the president how helpful you were.”
“Okay, miss, I guess it’ll be all right,” Ralphie said. He climbed up onto the platform and stood next to Lincoln’s feet.
Stub lifted the black ladder off the floor and handed it up. Ralphie leaned the ladder against Lincoln’s right knee.
“Okay, come on up, miss, but be careful,” Ralphie said, looking down at KC.
Stub held the lower ladder for her, and KC scampered up with her camera strap around her wrist. Then she climbed up the black ladder. At the top, her nose was only inches from Lincoln’s left hand.
“What do you see?” Marshall asked.
“It looks like the thumb broke off,” KC said.
“KC, what do you mean? We know the thumb broke off,” Marshall said.
“I mean, I don’t think it was cut off, like with a saw or something,” KC said. “Hey, there’s a red mark here, right near where it broke!”
“What kind of red mark?” Marshall asked.
KC looked closely at the strange red mark on the white marble. She gently touched it with her finger. “I can’t tell what it is,” she said. “Just red.”
KC snapped a picture. “Okay, I’m coming down!” she called over her shoulder.
A minute later, she was standing next to Marshall.
“Thanks a lot,” she told Stub and Ralphie.
“Can I have my picture back?” Ralphie asked.
“Oh, can I keep it for now?” KC asked. “I’m sure the president will want to see it. He might send you a thank-you note.”
“Okay!” Ralphie said with a big smile.
KC and Marshall raced toward the White House.
Twenty minutes later, they rushed through the private entrance. Out of breath, they hurried down the corridor to the president’s living quarters. A tall marine guard stood at attention next to the door.
“Hi, Arnold,” the kids said.
The marine looked down at them. “Hi, guys. What’s up?”
Marshall said, “Lincoln’s thumb is—”
“Nine inches long!” KC interrupted. She gave Marshall a look.
Arnold smiled at KC. “How do you happen to know that?” he asked.
“I’m studying the Lincoln Memorial,” she said. “Are my mom and the president in?”
Arnold nodded and opened the door for the kids.
They hurried inside and ran toward the library, where the president liked to relax.
“Why’d you stop me?” Marshall asked KC. “The missing thumb is huge news! If I don’t tell someone, I’ll bust open!”
“I know, but the president should hear about it first,” KC said as they stepped into the library.
“Hear about what?” the president asked.
President Zachary Thornton was sitting on a sofa next to KC’s mom, Lois. They were both practically buried in lists for the big celebration that night.
George, the president’s cat, was lying in the middle of the mess of papers.
“Okay, Marsh, now you can tell him,” KC said.
“We were at the Lincoln Memorial!” Marshall blurted out. “And guess what happened!”
“We won’t have to guess if you tell us,” KC’s mom said, smiling at her daughter’s best friend.
“One of Lincoln’s thumbs is missing!” Marshall nearly shouted.
The president and First Lady stared at the two kids.
“His thumb …,” the president said.
“Is missing?” his wife added.
“Honest, Mom,” KC said. “We went to take pictures for my report on Daniel Chester French. When we got there, Lincoln’s left thumb was gone!”
The president blinked. “Just … gone? Like, broken off?” he asked.
KC nodded. “There’s just a short stump now,” she said.
The four stared at each other. Finally, the president jumped from the sofa and hurried out of the room. George the cat meowed and hopped down to the floor.
“Sit, kids,” KC’s mom said. She made room on the sofa. “This isn’t a joke, is it?” she asked. “You’re not just teasing, are you?”
“Cross my heart!” Marshall said.
“I even took a picture,” KC said. She pulled her camera from her pack. She clicked a button, and the image of Lincoln’s left hand with its missing thumb showed up in the small screen.
“Oh my,” KC’s mom breathed. The picture clearly showed that Lincoln’s left hand had no thumb.
KC’s mom held the camera closer. “What’s that little red mark?” she asked.
“I don’t know,” KC said. “I looked at it, but—”
“The Park Service is on the case,” the president said as he hurried back into the room. “A couple of park rangers were cleaning the statue this morning. Maybe they saw what happened.”
“We already talked to them!” Marshall said. “They said the thumb was there earlier this morning.”
“They let me climb up on their ladders,” KC said. “They gave me this.” She produced the picture of Stub on the black ladder next to Lincoln’s knee.
“KC took this one,” Lois said. She passed the camera to the president.
The president sat and studied both pictures. In the Polaroid snapshot, Lincoln had both thumbs. In KC’s digital picture, there was just a broken stub where the left thumb should have been.
The president set the camera on the coffee table and placed the snapshot next to it. “Perfect,” he muttered, glancing at the tall clock standing in the corner. “At five o’clock, hundreds of people will be gathered on the Memorial’s steps to admire Daniel Chester French’s most famous statue.”
President Thornton turned pale. “And I’ll have to tell them all that someone broke off Lincoln’s thumb!”
3
The Red Runaround
“Maybe Marsh and I can find the thumb,” KC suggested. “We have over five hours.”
“That’s a nice idea, honey,” KC’s mom said. “But how? Where would you look?”
“There were a lot of people near the Memorial when we got there,” KC said. “Maybe one of them noticed something.”
“But we don’t even know when the thumb was taken,” the president said.
“Yes, we do!” Marshall said. He flipped over the photograph KC had gotten from Ralphie. On the back was the date and the time the photo was taken. “See, this was taken at 10:07 this morning an
d the thumb was still there.”
KC grabbed her camera and found her digital picture. “Look, there’s the time!” she said, pointing at the corner of the image. “I snapped this one at 10:37!”
The president sat up. “So the thumb vanished in the half hour between 10:07 and 10:37!”
KC leaped off the sofa. “Come on! Maybe we can find people who were at the Memorial during that time!” she said.
The president stood up, too. “I’ll talk to the FBI!” he said, rushing from the room.
“I’ll call the National Park Service!” Lois said, reaching for the telephone.
Marshall rubbed his stomach. “I’ll have a sandwich,” he said.
“We don’t get lunch until Lincoln gets his thumb back!” KC said, dragging Marshall from his seat.
By the time KC and Marshall reached the Lincoln Memorial again, the wide lawn in front was crowded. People were sunbathing and eating snacks on the steps and near the Reflecting Pool.
Hot dog and ice cream vendors were doing a brisk business. One man was selling balloons with Lincoln’s face on them.
“Look,” Marshall said.
KC peered through the columns. She could see a man up on a ladder examining Lincoln’s left hand. Down below, Ralphie and Stub were talking with a man and woman in business suits. Two official-looking black cars were parked nearby.
Yellow crime-scene tape was tied to two of the columns, keeping people away from the Lincoln statue.
“There were some kids with a kite here before,” Marshall said, “but I don’t see them now.”
Suddenly a Frisbee zipped past KC’s face. A man leaped up, plucked the Frisbee out of the air, and whipped it back to his friend.
“I remember those guys!” KC said. “Let’s go talk to them.”
As KC and Marshall walked over to the Frisbee throwers, one of them missed a catch. The wind took the Frisbee up into a tree, where it got stuck in the branches.
“Good one, Max,” the taller guy said.
“I can get it, Joker,” Max replied.
Joker and Max walked over to the tree. Joker bent over, and Max climbed onto his shoulders to grab the Frisbee out of the branches. Then he jumped to the ground as nimble as a monkey.