The Dirty Trick

by L. M. Falcone

  At that moment, Lew Jacobs walked by their table. Delia turned to Max. “I don’t trust him — or Nella Norman. When they first arrived and were setting up their effects, I overheard her tell her agent that they had to pull out every trick they had so she could win.”

  “You hear that, Max?” asked Larry. “Every trick! Maybe even a dirty one?”

  Delia got up. “I’m going to go do a final check on Rhonda’s special effects.” She crumpled the paper she’d written the judges’ names on and stuffed it into her skirt pocket.

  Max looked at his uncle. “I wish I’d gotten a better look at Delia’s handwriting.”

  Larry grinned. “Leave it to me.”

  He whooshed across the room and slid the note out of Delia’s pocket. As it floated across the room, the same waiter who’d served the tarts saw it. His eyes almost popped out of his head.

  AN OPEN-AND-SHUT CASE

  “Is this what you wanted?” asked Larry.

  Max grabbed the paper. The waiter rushed over to him. “How’d you do that?” he asked.

  Larry grinned. “Tell him you have a friend who’s a ghost.”

  Max gulped. “A magician never reveals his secrets.”

  The waiter nodded sadly. “I know. I know. Care for a butter tart?”

  “Thanks,” said Larry, grabbing one and gobbling it down.

  “Wow,” said the waiter. “You’re good.”

  He shook his head as he walked off. Once the waiter was out of earshot, Max turned to his uncle. “You’ve got to stop doing that.”

  “Doing what?”

  Max shook his head. “Never mind.”

  He smoothed out the crumpled paper and looked at it. The three judges’ names were written on it.

  “What are you looking for, Max?” asked Larry.

  “I want to compare Delia’s handwriting to the handwriting on Rhonda’s note.” Max pulled the note out of his pocket and placed it next to the paper. “The handwriting’s the same, Uncle Larry.”

  “Then Delia’s the one who’s going to play the dirty trick on Rhonda tonight! We’ve solved the case!” Larry did a happy dance.

  “It doesn’t make sense,” whispered Max.

  Larry stopped dancing. “What doesn’t? It’s an open-and-shut case.”

  “If Delia’s planning to play the trick on Rhonda, why slip her a note warning her?”

  Larry’s shoulders slumped. “I guess you’re right. If you’re planning on robbing someone, you don’t go telling them ahead of time.” Then he had a second thought. “Unless …”

  “Unless what?” asked Max.

  “Unless Delia only wanted Rhonda to think someone was going to play a trick on her.”

  “Good point, Uncle Larry.”

  Max took out his notebook and wrote …

  Suspect #3 — Delia Davis

  Motive — Sabotage

  “Delia’s been upset with Rhonda all night for not appreciating the amount of work she’s done for her. She’s the president of Rhonda’s local fan club, but Rhonda didn’t even know who she was. And Rhonda hasn’t been very nice to her from what I’ve seen. By writing the note, Delia might be trying to worry Rhonda so much that she won’t do her best storytelling and lose the competition.”

  “Right!” said Larry. “That’ll teach Rhonda a lesson.”

  CHAPTER 7

  SNOW … IN JULY?

  A woman with straight red hair and even redder lips stepped to the front of the room. “May I have your attention please.” The excited chatter died down. “I’m Cordelia Conrad, president of the Mystery Hall of Fame. Please take your seats. The competition is about to begin!”

  People made their way to the chairs and quieted down.

  “Our first storyteller,” said Mrs. Conrad, “is Nella Norman. The story she’s chosen to tell this evening is called ‘The Snow Ghost Mystery.’ ”

  Everyone clapped as Nella stepped to the front of the room. In a dramatic voice she began telling the story of a family who was sent a mysterious invitation to spend their Christmas holidays in a cabin in the woods. When they arrived at the cabin, they were surprised to find an old woman living there. She knew everything about them — even though they’d never met before. Nella was a really good storyteller, and everybody listened so intently that you could have heard a pin drop. Near the end of the story, she told of a howling snowstorm that blew in on Christmas Eve. At that very moment, everyone in the audience was shocked to see snow actually falling outside the balcony doors of Waldon Hall! People gasped and pointed when they saw it.

  Larry’s eyebrows went up. “Snow … in July?” He whooshed out of the room through the open balcony doors. A few seconds later, he whooshed back inside beside Max. “Some guy’s working a snow machine on the roof. Brilliant.”

  Max noticed that Lew Jacobs looked thrilled with the audience’s response.

  At the end of the story, everybody clapped and cheered. The judges looked really impressed. Nella smiled proudly and bowed several times.

  Mrs. Conrad made an announcement that there would be a ten-minute intermission before the next story. Max knew he was running out of time.

  TOO MUCH CHERRY PUNCH

  As people moved around, Max overheard Lew ask a waiter for directions to the men’s room. “I drank too much cherry punch,” he said, laughing.

  Max looked around and spotted Nella talking to her fans. Rhonda was in the corner, wringing her hands. “Miss Remington looks really worried,” he said to Larry.

  “She should be. Nella Norman’s story was terrific!”

  Rhonda made her way over to them. “Oh, Max, have you figured out who’s planning the trick?”

  “Not yet, but I’m working on it.”

  Delia appeared and whispered to Rhonda, “I’ll go downstairs and get ready for your special effects.”

  Rhonda nodded.

  “Nella’s story was really something, wasn’t it?” continued Delia. “And that snow was a fantastic special effect.”

  This was the last thing Rhonda needed to hear. “Oh, dear,” she said, rubbing her forehead.

  “Don’t worry, Miss Remington,” said Delia. “I’m sure everything will go great with your story, too.”

  “Thank you, Diane.”

  Delia’s mouth got all pinched. “Delia. Delia Davis.”

  Rhonda looked flustered. “Oh, yes, of course, dear.”

  Delia spun around and almost knocked down Nella Norman as they both headed toward the door.

  CHAPTER 8

  THE MYSTERIOUS CREATURE

  Exactly ten minutes later, Cordelia Conrad made an announcement for everyone to take their seats. Lew and several people came in from the hallway. Then Nella came in and walked over to a seat in the front row. When everyone had sat down, Mrs. Conrad said, “And now it’s time for this evening’s second story. It’s called ‘The Mystery of Stone Wolf,’ and our storyteller is Rhonda Remington!”

  Everyone clapped.

  Rhonda took a deep breath, walked to the front of the room and began her story.

  “Every year, at exactly nine o’clock on the ninth day of the ninth month, everyone in the village of Dunbarton locked their doors, turned out their lights … and hid. Hid from what, you ask?” Rhonda moved closer to the audience. “There was a legend, passed down from generation to generation, about a mysterious creature that, night after night, attacked the farmers’ sheep. The people of the village held a meeting and decided to lay traps all around the fields. That night, at exactly nine o’clock, a wolf was caught in one of the traps.

  “But before the villagers could get to the wolf, a landslide thundered down the mountain and buried it alive. The next day, more sheep were attacked. The villagers had caught the wrong animal! The mysterious creature was still out there. Legend has it that the innocent wolf’s spirit entered one of the sto
nes that had crushed the wolf, and that same stone was the first one used to build … this … very … building.”

  Rhonda’s voice got deeper. “Once a year, at the stroke of nine, the spirit of the innocent wolf escapes from the wall to seek revenge on the descendants of those who laid the trap.” Rhonda looked right into the eyes of her listeners. “Tonight … is that night!”

  The clock on the wall suddenly chimed. Everyone looked up. It was exactly nine o’clock.

  Rhonda rushed across the room, motioning for people to join her on the balcony. Everyone scrambled from their seats and raced after her. “Come on, Max!” shouted Larry, getting caught up in the excitement.

  Max followed but kept his eyes on Nella and her agent.

  Rhonda leaned over the railing and shouted, “It’s happening NOW!”

  The clock continued to chime … three … four … five … Growling filled the air. Six … seven … The growling got louder and louder. Eight … And then — on the ninth chime — the sound of crashing stones blasted through the night air.

  Everyone gasped. People pushed and shoved to see down to the ground. They held their breath and waited for the wolf to come hurling through the wall. With wide eyes, they saw … a cute brown rabbit. It hopped over the fake snow and into the dark woods.

  The audience burst out laughing. Nella and her agent laughed the loudest. The judges looked confused, but soon they were laughing, too. Rhonda stood there, stunned. She couldn’t believe what had happened.

  Max bolted out of the room, down the stairs and out the back door of Waldon Hall.

  CHAPTER 9

  A PICKY EATER

  The fake snow that had come down during Nella Norman’s story covered the ground. Max spotted some footprints and quickly followed them over to the crate that the rabbit had escaped from. A black blanket covered it, and the door was wide open. Inside, on the floor, was a mangled sandwich with a huge bite taken out of it.

  Max leaned in to get a better look. The sandwich rose in midair and Larry appeared, holding it. He took a bite.

  “What are you doing?!” shouted Max.

  “Mmm, mustard … my favorite!”

  “You can’t eat the evidence!”

  “Okay. Okay.” Larry dropped the sandwich. “It was soggy, anyway.”

  Max bent down to examine it. “I wonder what a sandwich is doing in a dog crate.”

  Larry’s eyes lit up. “I know! Rhonda wanted to make sure her dog didn’t get hungry while he waited for her to tell her story.”

  “You could be right, Uncle Larry. But why a sandwich? Why not dog food?”

  “Maybe the dog is a picky eater?”

  A SWITCHEROO

  Max walked around the crate and spotted the rope tied to the door handle. He followed it as it went up the wall and through an open window. “This rope must lead to the room Delia’s in.”

  “What did she say she needed the rope for?” asked Larry.

  “When Rhonda got to the part in her story where the wolf crashes through the stone wall, Delia was supposed to pull open the crate door with the rope and let the dog run out.”

  “Well, somebody did a switcheroo.”

  Max nodded. “And now we know what the dirty trick is. We just need to find out who did the switch.”

  Max moved around and noticed the rabbit tracks that went from the crate through the fake snow.

  “I had a rabbit named Rumpy when I was a kid,” said Larry. “Brought him to school one day for show-and-tell.”

  He reached for the sandwich again.

  “Leave it alone,” said Max.

  “Rumpy took off at recess. Harry and I chased him all around the school yard, but he got away.” Larry burst out crying. “I never saw him again! Poor Rumpy — all alone in the world!”

  “I’m sure he was okay, Uncle Larry.”

  Larry kept blubbering.

  “Uncle Larry, we’re in the middle of a case.” Larry still didn’t stop. “And I need your help.”

  Larry looked at Max. “You do?”

  “The window’s too high for me to look inside.” Max pointed at the window above the crate. “Would you go up and look. Tell me if you see anything?”

  Larry wiped his eyes. “Sure.” He sniffled then floated up to the window and peered in. “I see the end of the rope, Max.”

  “You don’t see Delia?”

  “No,” said Larry. “She must have run upstairs when she heard all the fuss.”

  “Do you see anything unusual?” asked Max.

  Larry stuck his head right through the window. “A sandwich!” His head came back out. “Maybe it’s the same kind as the one in the crate. I’ll go see if it has mustard on it.”

  Larry flew through the window. A second later, he flew back out, licking his fingers. “Nope. It’s cucumber and cream cheese. But that doesn’t mean she didn’t do it.”

  Max crouched down and examined the footprints that led to the crate. They were clear, until the area right in front of the crate door. At that point they got all jumbled up. Some dog prints were visible in the fake snow, leading away from the crate. “Somebody led Rhonda’s dog out of the crate,” said Max.

  Larry leaned over to look. “You’re right, Max. And they went that way.” He pointed to the pathway that led to the parking lot.

  Max took one last look at the crate, the footprints, the rope and the sandwich — then he stood up.

  “I know who played the trick on Rhonda.”

  CHAPTER 10

  MAX SOLVES THE CASE

  Max asked Delia, Nella, Lew and a still-upset Rhonda to join him behind Waldon Hall. “Earlier today, Miss Remington called me, asking for help. Someone had slipped a note in her purse that said, Beware … a dirty trick!” Max held up the note.

  Delia, Nella and Lew looked at each other awkwardly.

  “The person who wrote the note was trying to warn Miss Remington,” continued Max, “and that person was you, Delia.”

  Delia looked surprised.

  “Your handwriting on the list of judges’ names matches the writing on the note. You’re the local president of the Rhonda Remington fan club, and you’ve been helping her all night. But Miss Remington hasn’t thanked you once for all your hard work. Maybe you slipped her the note to worry her, hoping that she would be too distracted to tell a great story.”

  “I was upset, but I didn’t actually want her to lose,” said Delia. “I’m her biggest fan!”

  “Exactly,” said Max. “You care about her, so when you overheard Nella Norman tell her agent that they had to pull out every trick to win, you slipped Miss Remington the note to warn her.”

  “That’s right. Miss Remington might not have believed me if I had told her in person,” said Delia. “I knew Nella and her agent were up to something.”

  NOT ENOUGH TIME

  Max walked closer to the crate, then turned to Nella. “Miss Norman, you really wanted to win the competition tonight. You even told your agent that nothing would stop you from winning. You put a lot of work into your story and special effects, and wanted to make sure it landed you a spot in the Hall of Fame.”

  “Yes, I admit I want to be the new Queen of Mysteries,” said Nella, “but I want to win fair and square.”

  “The fake snow you used in your story was a big help in solving the mystery,” said Max. “If it weren’t for the snow, these footprints wouldn’t be visible. The shape of the prints was clearly made by a flat shoe, and you’re wearing high heels. I remembered noticing their shiny clasps when I first saw you.

  “There was only a ten-minute break after your story,” continued Max, “and you were talking to people for most of it. There wasn’t enough time for you to change your shoes, switch the animals and still get back in time for Miss Remington’s story.”

  Nella pointed a finger at Max. “You are a genius
.”

  Larry beamed. “I taught him everything he knows.”

  YOU HAVE NO PROOF

  Max turned to Lew Jacobs. “That leaves you, Mr. Jacobs.”

  Lew’s eyes darted around nervously.

  “You like betting on horse races, and you owe a lot of money. If your client Nella Norman was inducted into the Hall of Fame, there would be lots of publicity and lots of book sales. As her agent, you get a percentage of those sales — and that would add up to quite a bit of money. You had to make sure Rhonda didn’t win.”

  “And just when would I have had time to switch the animals?” asked Lew.

  “During the ten-minute break between stories.”

  “I went to the bathroom during the break! You can ask the waiter I spoke to!”

  “I heard you tell the waiter you needed to go to the bathroom because you drank too much cherry punch. But you haven’t been drinking cherry punch all night. You pretended to go to the bathroom, then you snuck down here, took the dog out and replaced him with the rabbit.”

  “Sorry to interrupt, Max,” said Rhonda. “My dog’s friendly, but he would have barked as soon as he saw Lew.”

  “Mr. Jacobs was prepared for that,” responded Max. “He couldn’t risk attracting attention, so he distracted the dog with a sandwich.”

  Lew crossed his arms. “You have no proof that was my sandwich.”

  A HORRIBLE THING TO DO

  Max continued. “There were only cream- cheese sandwiches at the reception. But this one has mustard on it. Whoever played the trick must have brought this sandwich. Mr. Jacobs, earlier tonight you were eating a pastrami sandwich in the lounge. You told me you always bring your own food to these events. I’ll bet that if we had a look in your briefcase —”