The Case of the Amazing Zelda
Page 3
The problem was, the compact car really wasn’t big enough to hide Tank. The three of them should have ducked behind something a little larger . . . like a jumbo jet.
Tank gave Milo a big, slobbery lick, and he felt saliva drip from his ear. “Thanks, but I already had a shower,” he told Tank.
Jazz peeked out at the pet store across the street. “I hope Zelda shows up.”
“Me, too.” His clever idea about Tank didn’t seem so clever now that he was drowning in doggie drool. If Zelda didn’t appear soon—
“Here she comes!” Jazz ducked down.
Milo counted to twenty, then bobbed up. Zelda was nowhere to be seen.
“She’s gone into the store!” he said.
Jazz and Milo swung into action. They crossed the street and tied Tank’s leash to a tree in front of the pet store.
As they entered, Milo glanced down one of the aisles and spotted Zelda, out of costume, standing with her back to them. He nudged Jazz.
Mr. Perki greeted them with a smile. “Your neighbor was in yesterday,” he said to Jazz. “She told me all about the pig that chases dogs.”
Milo grinned. So, his guess was right!
Of course, that didn’t prove that Zelda heard what Mrs. Budge told Mr. Perki. But Milo knew she could hear what they were saying now.
“That’s the dog that Bitsy chased, right there.” Jazz pointed. Outside the window, Tank leaned against the tree, which swayed alarmingly.
Mr. Perki whistled. “Some big dog.”
“Oh, Tank’s a sweetie,” Jazz told him. “Kind of funny, though.”
“Funny how?” asked Mr. Perki.
“Well, he knows lots of tricks. But you have to use special words. For instance, if you want him to lie down, you don’t say, ‘Lie down.’”
“No?”
Milo sneaked a glance at the back of Zelda’s head. It was very still.
“Nope,” Jazz said. “You have to say, ‘Good boy.’”
Before they left, they bought a giant rawhide bone, which Tank practically swallowed whole.
As they walked him over to the park, Milo shot Jazz a grin. “So far, so good.”
“That was the easy part,” she said.
A crowd of kids clustered around the fountain, waiting for Zelda to arrive. The girl with the pet mouse was there again. The boy who owned Spot, the jealous fish, had shown up too.
Spencer gloomily waved a plastic pirate sword at them. Floyd leaned forward and eyed Milo’s fingers.
Milo put his hands behind his back. “Hi, Floyd.”
The parrot screeched.
Spencer stared at Tank. “Didn’t you say you were looking for a pig?”
“We found her,” Jazz said. “This is—well, it’s a long story.”
Zelda swept up to the fountain. She had put on her costume and eye makeup. The crowd pressed forward.
Holding Tank’s leash, Jazz squeezed to the front. Milo was close behind. When Zelda saw them, her eyes widened.
“Zelda, you were right about my pig,” Jazz announced in a loud voice. “When I got home, she was already there. I guess you really can read minds!”
Before Zelda could speak, Milo jumped in. “Come on, Jazz. I told you that was just a lucky guess. Zelda’s a total fake.”
“She is not!”
“Is too!”
Jazz appealed to Zelda. “Show him! Do something!”
Milo laughed. “Why don’t you ask her to make Tank lie down?”
“Come on. That isn’t fair—”
“Why?” he said. “If she can really read his mind, she’ll know the right words to say.”
They both looked at Zelda.
This was it.
For a moment, Zelda didn’t move. Then she smiled slowly. “Of course I know the right words to say.”
She fixed Tank with a spooky stare. And in her lowest, most mysterious mind-reader voice, she said, “Good boy.”
Everything happened in an instant. Jazz dropped the leash. Tank soared into the air. Kids shrieked and scattered.
Whoomph.
Zelda toppled backward into the fountain with a Tank-sized splash.
“Zelda!” The girl with the pet mouse ran forward and hauled Zelda to her feet, dripping and sputtering. Then she turned on Jazz and Milo. “You did that on purpose! You knew that dog would knock my sister down!”
Sister? Milo and Jazz stared at one another, wide-eyed.
If that girl was Zelda’s sister, then the mouse who wouldn’t come . . .
Jazz lit up. “So that’s how the mouse trick worked! Its name never was Coco, was it? It was Annabelle all along.”
A faint rumble started in the crowd. Zelda . . . mouse . . . sister . . . phony . . . trick. The rumble grew into a roar.
And Zelda, followed by her sister, hitched up her wet robe and ran.
Milo slid their letter to Dash Marlowe into the mailbox, then let it clang shut.
With a curious sniff, Tank poked his nose where the letter had gone in.
“It’s not coming back,” Jazz told the big dog. “The Case of the Amazing Zelda is closed!”
“It never crossed my mind that the mouse could be a plant,” said Milo.
“Mouses are animals,” Ethan told him. “Not plants.”
Jazz laughed. “Not that kind of plant. Milo just means that Zelda trained her own mouse so she could pretend to read its mind.”
“That was why she acted so weird when we saw her leave the pet store,” Milo added. “Zelda was afraid if we saw those wood shavings, we’d realize she had a pet mouse and put it all together.”
“But we didn’t,” Jazz said.
They walked on toward Perki Pets. Mrs. Budge had asked them to pick up another ball for Tank.
“Something he can’t chew to pieces,” she had said, looking at what was left of the ball he’d stolen from Bitsy.
Milo wondered what that might be. Maybe a cannon ball?
When they walked into the pet store, they saw Spencer in shorts and a T-shirt. He was buying Floyd a bag of parrot treats.
“Ahoy, matey,” Milo said.
Spencer winced. “Please, no pirate talk. I hate pirates!”
Floyd fluffed his feathers. He opened his beak. “Awk! I hate pirates.”
Everyone stared at Floyd.
“Your parrot talked!” Ethan said.
Spencer’s mouth dropped open. “I can’t believe it. Finally! Say something else, Floyd.”
“I hate pirates. I hate pirates,” Floyd repeated.
Spencer sighed. “Now you tell me.”Everyone laughed.
“Did you get your money back from Zelda yet?” Jazz asked Spencer.
“Nope. She spent it all on toys and stuff for Annabelle. Her sister told me she’s got a whole mouse playground. A maze, a tunnel, a fancy exercise wheel . . .”
Exercise wheel. Suddenly a picture popped into Milo’s head: a tall girl with an exercise wheel under her arm.
So, Zelda had been right in front of him at the pet store that first day! No wonder she knew all about Spencer’s problem with Floyd.
Spencer pointed to the bulletin board. “Looks like Zelda’s trying to earn more money so she can pay everyone back.”
They all read: THE AMAZING ZELDA PET-SITTING SERVICE. NO PET TOO BIG OR TOO SMALL!
“I saw her in the park yesterday with three dogs,” Spencer said. “And a pooper scooper.”
Milo grinned. He’d have to give Zelda’s name to Mrs. Budge.
Jazz bought a big pink ball, and they all walked outside. Tank was waiting—drooling a river. Jazz gave him the ball.
Suddenly Floyd hopped from Spencer’s wrist to Milo’s shoulder.
“Look at that!” Jazz said.
“He must like you,” said Spencer.
Milo looked up at the parrot. Wow. Floyd had finally warmed up to him!
From his perch, Floyd gave Tank a long, thoughtful stare.
Then, just before he hopped off Milo’s shoulder, Floyd spoke in a loud, clear voice. “Good
boy!”
A few days after Milo and Jazz wrote to Dash Marlowe, a letter arrived in the mail. . . .
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Lewis B. Montgomery is the pen name of a writer whose favorite authors include CSL, EBW, and LMM. Those initials are a clue—but there’s another clue, too. Can you figure out their names?
Besides writing the Milo & Jazz mysteries, LBM enjoys eating spicy Thai noodles and blueberry ice cream, riding a bike, and reading. Not all at the same time, of course. At least, not anymore. But that’s another story. . . .
ABOUT THE ILLUSTRATOR
Amy Wummer has illustrated more than 50 children’s books. She uses pencils, watercolors, and ink—but not the invisible kind.
Amy and her husband, who is also an artist, live in Pennsylvania . . . in a mysterious old house which has a secret hidden room in the basement!