Clarissa looked at the milk. “Meow,” she said.
“This is why your cat is so fat,” I said. “She has convinced all of you that she belongs to you.
And all of you feed her. So she gets a lot more food than she needs.”
“But she’s mine,” said Kate.“I got her when she was just a kitten. Tell them, Mother.”
“No, she’s mine,” said the woman named Julie. “I paid for her to get fixed.”
“So that’s why she can’t have babies,” said Kate.
“She’s mine,” said Jack.
We all looked at him to hear his reason. But he just stuffed another cookie in his mouth.
“Put my cat down right now,” said Kate.
“Kate,” said Kate’s mother, “you don’t have to be rude.” She looked at the woman named Julie. “We need to talk. Why don’t you put Clarissa down and have a seat?”
“I don’t think so. I’m taking her home,” said the woman named Julie.
“No you don’t,” said Jack. “Give her to me.”
“Wait,” I said.“This can work out. Listen.You’ve all been happy with this cat so far, right?”
“Right,” they said together.
“So you can continue sharing her.You just have to agree to cut back on how much you feed her.”
They were quiet for a minute.
“That’ll save me some money,” said Jack.
“And we can take turns bringing her to the vet,” said Kate’s mother. She tilted her head at the woman named Julie. “That will save even more money.”
“True,” said the woman named Julie. She squatted and slowly set Clarissa on the floor.
We all looked at Kate.
“All right,” she said finally.
The Trade
So my first case ended in success. And Taxi purred the whole time I told her about it.
That was two months ago. Clarissa-Fluffy-Punky is now a little thinner. And no one has complained. I introduced her to Taxi and they play sometimes. And she now has a much sturdier collar that she can’t pop off, with three phone numbers on one side and C-F-P on the other.
Kate’s mother and the woman named Julie have become sort of friends.They jogged together a few times, until Julie hurt her knee. Now they lift weights in Kate’s basement on Saturday mornings.
I traded the two doll dresses for some baseball cards.That was with Melody. I hadn’t even known she collected them before. It’s funny what you don’t know about the people around you.
Case #2:
Sly and the Wish Fish
The Monster
I came home from school on Friday and headed for the backyard hammock.
Brian came over from next door.“Are you tired?”
“Yes,” I said.
“Because you had a rough day at school?”
“Yes,” I said, although it wasn’t a particularly rough day. But with Brian it’s best to keep answers short.
“My day was rough too,” said Brian.
“How could nursery school be rough?” I said.
But I knew right away that was a bad question.
For one, Brian would answer. So that meant he would stay awhile. For another, I remembered nursery school. Nursery school had some pretty rough days.
“A monster came to our classroom,” said Brian.
“Sure, Brian,” I said.
“It did.A real monster,” said Brian.“Can I come into the hammock with you?”
“Why?” I asked.
Brian climbed in beside me. “I’m scared.”
I thought about pushing him out. But he did look scared. And people my age shouldn’t push four-year-olds. “Why are you scared?”
“He followed me home. He’s a bad monster.”
I decided to approach this rationally, which had never worked with Brian before, but there was always a first time. “Don’t you drive home?” I asked.
“Monsters can follow cars,” said Brian.
“How do you know?”
“Because there he is.”
Blue
“Boo!”
Brian screamed and threw himself on me.
I pressed down Brian’s shoulder so I could see over it. “Hi, Jack.”
“How did you know it was me?” said Jack.
“Jack?” Brian held on to me tight and peeked around at Jack. “You know a monster by name?”
“He’s not a monster,” I said.“Monsters don’t say ‘Boo.’”
“What do monsters say?” said Brian.
“Yeah?” said Jack.
“They roar.”
Jack roared.
Brian screamed.
“Cut it out,” I said to both of them. “Anyway, monsters aren’t blue.”
“That’s what you think,” said Jack.
I examined Jack from head to foot. All his clothes were blue, even his socks. His hair was dyed blue. His hands were blue. Then I got it. “Why are you dressed like Cookie Monster?”
“This is my Halloween costume.”
“Halloween isn’t till Sunday,” I said.
“My class did a parade for the nursery school,” said Jack.
“See?” I said to Brian. “There’s a simple explanation. Jack is just playing Cookie Monster.”
“Who’s Cookie Monster?” said Brian.
I forgot. Brian’s mother doesn’t have a TV. And she doesn’t let him eat junk food. Her usual snack for him is flaxseed sprinkled on prunes. The only cookies she ever serves come from the health food store. They taste like dry cat food. The last time she gave me one, I fed it to Taxi.“Cookie Monster is not someone to worry about,” I said.
“That’s not true,” said Jack.“I come into people’s houses and eat all their cookies.”
I whispered to Jack,“You don’t want the cookies in Brian’s house.” Then I said in a regular voice, “He won’t go into your house, Brian. So what are you doing here, Jack?”
“I have a problem,” said Jack. “It’s a mystery.”
“I’m Sly the Sleuth,” I said quickly. “I run Sleuth for Hire.”
“I know.”
“Did you come to hire me?”
“If you can solve my problem.”
“What’s your problem?” I said.
“My fish hates me.”
This sounded kind of wacky, even for Jack. “Go on,” I said.
Wish Fish
Jack sat down beside me. Three people on our hammock is a lot. It sagged so much, Brian and I tumbled against Jack.
Brian screamed.
“Cut it out,” I said. “No more screaming. This is just Jack.”
“And I’m sad,” said Jack. “No one should be afraid of a sad monster.”
“Start at the beginning,” I said. That was a line my mother told me detectives always say.
“For my birthday I wished for a fish.”
“I wish for fish every day,” said Brian.
We both looked at Brian. Maybe it was time to send him home.
“Why would you wish for a fish?” I asked Jack. “You already have a cat.”
“I like fish,” said Jack. “So my mother bought me Wish Fish. And he loved me.”
“How do you know?” I asked.
“Well, maybe he didn’t love me,” said Jack. “But he didn’t hate me. He ignored me. He stayed in his bowl happy as a clam.”
“Are clams happy?” said Brian.
He had a point. Why did people always say clams were happy? Maybe they were depressed. They never did anything fun, after all.
“I don’t know,”said Jack,“butWish Fish was happy.”
“How do you know?” said Brian.
“Leave the questions to me,” I said to Brian. “How do you know, Jack?”
“He ate and swam,” said Jack.
That seemed as good a piece of evidence as any.
“So what happened?” I asked.
“It started last night. I stopped by Wish Fish’s bowl and he got mad.”
A m
ad fish? “How could you tell?”
“I just could. And this morning before school he got mad again. Even madder than last night.”
I had to see this fish for myself.
But first, I had to decide: Did I want to take the case?
“Taxi,” I called.
Taxi came running.
“How come your cat always comes when you call?” said Jack.“Ordinary cats only come at mealtime.”
“Taxi’s not ordinary,” I said.
I moved Brian to one side and scooped up Taxi. I rubbed my chin on the top of her head. She liked that.
This case was about a fish.Taxi loved to eat fish. And this was a mad fish. Taxi almost never got mad. She’d want to know why a fish was mad. Probably any cat would.
“Take me to Wish Fish,” I said.
Mad
Brian went home.
Jack and I walked to his house.
“Well, hello, Sly,” said Jack’s mother. “I haven’t seen you for a while.”
“Hello, Mrs. Carver. I came to see Jack’s fish.”
“How nice. When you’re done, come have a snack.” Mrs. Carver went into the kitchen. I was glad. Mrs. Carver made good snacks, like yummy fruit pies. It was too bad Brian couldn’t have come with us. He could use some real treats.
“This way,” said Jack. He led me to his room. He stopped in the doorway and pointed.
I looked across the clutter to the fishbowl. It sat on top of a low bureau.The fish inside amazed me.
Wish Fish had a filmy tail that was wider than his body and almost as long. He had three fins: a wide one on his back, a gigantic one on his belly, and a narrow one under his chin that streamed down to two points. All the fins were filmy and long, like that tail.When he turned, his tail and fins flowed around him. It was as though he was dancing in a gauzy veil.
Best of all, he was glowing scarlet.
Wish Fish was beautiful.
I put my face close to his bowl.
Wish Fish glided past.
I tapped on the side of the bowl.
Wish Fish blew a bubble and kept on gliding.
“He doesn’t look mad,” I said.
“Watch.” Jack walked up to the bowl and put his face close.
Wish Fish jerked to attention. He faced Jack. He spread his fins and gill covers. He wiggled fast. I had to admit he looked mad. He looked ferocious.
“He only hates me,” said Jack. He slumped down onto the floor. “Only me.”
Dirty Water
“Fish aren’t smart enough to hate a particular person,” I said.
Jack didn’t look convinced.
“Listen, I once read that goldfish are so stupid, by the time they swim to one side of their bowl, they forget what’s on the other side.”
Jack shook his head. “Wish Fish isn’t a goldfish. Mom said he’s a betta.”
“Fish are idiots, Jack. All fish.”
“Really? Then I got the only fish in the world smart enough to hate me,” moaned Jack.
I sat on the floor beside Jack. “You must have done something bad to him.”
“Nothing,” said Jack. “I swear. I feed him. And I even sing to him every night.”
“Let me hear you sing.”
“No,” said Jack.
Well, that was okay. I wouldn’t sing if someone asked me to either. Besides, if Jack sang every night and Wish Fish started getting mad only last night, then it couldn’t be Jack’s singing.
“Is there anything different you’ve done to him?”
“No.”
I looked up at Wish Fish.The water in his bowl was scuzzy.“When did you last change his water?”
“Two weeks ago.”
“Hmmm,” I said. “Maybe he’s a genius fish and he knows you’re the one who’s supposed to change his water and he wants it clean.” Actually, I hated saying that, it sounded so dumb. But, after all, there weren’t many things that must matter to a fish, and water’s got to be among them.
“Nah. The pet store told Mom not to change his water too often. He likes dirty water. In the wild, he lives in stagnant water.”
“Yuck,” I said.
“Yup,” said Jack. “See? Wish Fish is a perfect fish. And he hates me.”
Telephone
I went home and telephoned my best friend, Melody.
No one answered.
So I telephoned Kate.
“Hello,” said Kate.
“This is Sly. Want to go walk to the pet store with me?”
“I don’t need a pet,” said Kate.“I have Clarissa.”
“I just want to look at fish,” I said.
“Fish are boring,” said Kate. “Look at kittens instead.”
“Do you want to come with me or not?” I asked.
“Be outside my house in five minutes.” Kate hung up.
The phone rang.
“Hello,” I said.
“It’s me,” said Melody. “Let’s play.”
“I’m going to the pet store with Kate.”
“Oh,” said Melody. She didn’t sound happy.
“What do you know about fish?” I asked.
“They don’t taste good,” said Melody.
“I mean pet store fish.”
“Oh.” Melody giggled. “I guess most people don’t eat their pets.”
I laughed too.“What do you know about red fish?”
“Red fish, blue fish, old fish, new fish,” said Melody, with another giggle. “Only tropical fish come in bright colors like red.”
I knew that, of course, but I was glad Melody reminded me. “Come with us,” I said. “We’re going to look at fish. Or I am, at least. Kate’s going to look at kittens.”
“Why are you looking at fish?”
“I have a case to solve.”
“Goodie. I’ll look at fish with you,” said Melody. “I’m your best friend, after all.”
The Pet Store
The kittens were in one window. Kate went to them.
The puppies were in the other window. Melody went to them. She said they were “darling.” I didn’t have the heart to remind her she had promised to look at fish with me.
Oh, well, I was the sleuth, after all. And Jack had hired me, not Melody.
I got to work.
The fish tanks ran in three aisles. I started at the first one, thinking if they were alphabetical, then bettas would be near the start.
The tanks weren’t alphabetical.
So I walked along looking for red fish.
I saw orange swordtails. I saw orange and black clown fish. I saw fancy goldfish that were silvery red. And I saw fancy guppies that were see-through with red insides.
But I didn’t see a single glowing scarlet fish.
I started over. I read the labels on the tanks. No label said “Bettas.”
This was getting nowhere.
I went to the clerk.“Excuse me,” I said.“I’m Sly the Sleuth. And I’m on a case.”
The clerk looked down his long nose at me.“Yes?”
“I can’t find your tank of bettas.”
“We don’t have one,” said the clerk.
“Oh.Then I guess I’ll have to get my mother to drive me to another store.”
“Go ahead,” said the clerk. “But you won’t find one.”
I blinked at him. He didn’t seem rude.“Why not?”
“No store has a tank of bettas,” said the clerk.
Was this a trick?
So Many Bettas
“How do you know?” I asked. I used my most polite voice. After all, this clerk seemed loopy, and I didn’t know what he’d do next. “How do you know no store has a tank of bettas?”
“If they did, they’d all be dead. Except maybe one.” The clerk came around from the counter. “Want to know why?”
Of course I did. But the way he was acting, I wasn’t about to ask.
“Why?” said Melody. She was standing behind me. Good old Melody.
“Come see.” The clerk led th
e way to the far side of the store.
On a counter were many small bowls. Each bowl held a fish. Blue fish and purple fish and red fish and green fish.
“They’re beautiful,” said Melody.
“Those are bettas,” said the clerk.
“Why aren’t they in a tank?” asked Melody.
“A sleuth can figure it out,” said the clerk. He flipped over a sign on the counter.“No cheating,” he said with a wink. Then he left us there.
“You shouldn’t have said you were a sleuth,” said Melody.
Well, I knew that.
“I wonder what that sign says,” said Melody. “I suppose it would be cheating to turn it over.”
“Yup,” I said.
“What are you going to do, then?” asked Melody.
I didn’t know. And her question didn’t help. “Go back to the puppies.”
“I can’t. A woman’s cleaning out the window. So she put all the puppies away somewhere.”
“There are parakeets in the back of the store,” I said.
“I like birds.”
“Go see them,” I said. “I won’t mind.”
“All right. But I’ll come back soon. After all, I promised.”
“Take your time,” I said.
The Sign
I looked at the prettiest red betta. He was all puffed out, like Wish Fish. He was mad.
I looked at the next red fish. He was mad too.
All the red fish were mad.
And the blue. And the purple. And the green.
What a bunch of mad fish.
What was wrong with them?
I looked around. No one was nearby. And these bowls were very small. I could pick them up easily.
I held one up to my face to get a good look.
The fish stopped being mad. Just like that. He closed his gill covers. He relaxed his fins. He swam in a circle.
I put the bowl down.
He got mad.
I picked up a second bowl. That fish stopped being mad too. But when I put the bowl back down, he got mad again.
Sly the Sleuth and the Pet Mysteries Page 2