Text copyright © 2012 by Lewis B. Montgomery
Illustrations copyright © 2012 by Amy Wummer
Super Sleuthing Strategies original illustrations copyright © 2012 by Kane Press, Inc.
Super Sleuthing Strategies original illustrations by Nadia DiMattia
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any
form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording,
or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing
from the publisher. For information regarding permission, contact the publisher
through its website: www.kanepress.com.
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Montgomery, Lewis B.
The case of the crooked campaign / by Lewis B. Montgomery ;
illustrated by Amy Wummer.
p. cm. -- (Milo & Jazz Mysteries ; 9)
Summary: When detective-in-training Jazz runs for school president and
someone steals her best ideas, Jazz and her sleuthing partner Milo must solve the
mystery before Election Day.
ISBN 978-1-57565-435-5 (library reinforced binding) --
ISBN 978-1-57565-436-2 (pbk.) -- ISBN 978-1-57565-437-9 (e-book)
[1. Mystery and detective stories. 2. Elections--Fiction. 3. Schools--Fiction.]
I. Wummer, Amy, ill. II. Title.
PZ7.M7682Cagh 2012
[Fic]--dc23
2011048821
1 3 5 7 9 10 8 6 4 2
First published in the United States of America in 2012 by Kane Press, Inc.
Printed in the United States of America
WOZ0712
Book Design: Edward Miller
The Milo & Jazz Mysteries is a registered trademark of Kane Press, Inc.
eISBN: 978-1-5756-5437-9 (pdf)
eISBN: 978-1-5756-5755-4 (ePub)
eISBN: 978-1-5756-5702-8 (mobi)
Visit us online at www.kanepress.com
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For the real Perkins poodles
(and their people!)
—L.B.M.
Titles in The Milo & Jazz Mysteries series:
The Case of the Stinky Socks
The Case of the Poisoned Pig
The Case of the Haunted Haunted House
The Case of the Amazing Zelda
The Case of the July 4th Jinx
The Case of the Missing Moose
The Case of the Purple Pool
The Case of the Diamonds in the Desk
The Case of the Crooked Campaign
Visit www.kanepress.com/miloandjazz.html
to see all titles.
Milo hurried down the school hallway after his friend Jazz. “You did WHAT?”
“I told Spencer I’d take care of Floyd while he was visiting his grandmother,” Jazz said again. “What’s the big deal? He’s just a parrot.”
Floyd, just a parrot? Milo thought. Sure. Like Batman’s crazed archenemy, The Joker, was just a guy.
“Fine,” Milo said. “I’ll stay away from your house till Spencer gets back.”
“But you can’t! What about our campaign meetings?” Jazz pointed to the election signup sheet taped to the wall. “I’m running for president, remember?”
“As if I could forget!” He laughed. Jazz had dragged him down to check that sheet at least three times that day.
A bunch of kids had signed up to run for the other positions—vice president, secretary, and treasurer. So far, though, Jazz’s name was still the only one under PRESIDENT.
“Why do you need to campaign?” Milo asked. “No one else is running.”
“Someone might sign up,” she said.
“Jazz, you’ve been on student council three years in a row. Everybody knows you’re going to be president.”
Jazz had talked of nothing else for weeks. She wanted to fix every problem in the school, from dried-out markers in the art room to cafeteria pizza that tasted like, well … dried-out markers.
“I still need to let everyone know what I stand for,” she said. “And I need YOU on my campaign team. Partners, right?”
Milo and Jazz were sleuths in training. They cracked lots of cases—aided by lessons from Dash Marlowe, world-famous private eye.
“Partners in sleuthing, sure,” Milo said. “But I’m not getting pecked to pieces at a campaign meeting. That bird has it in for me!”
“I’ll shut Floyd in his cage when you come over,” Jazz promised. “He’s got everything in there. Food, water, toys. Even a baby monitor.”
“A baby monitor?”
“So I can hear him from downstairs,” Jazz said. “You know how Spencer is. He hated to leave Floyd. He said Floyd always goes along on family car trips, but they couldn’t take him on the plane.”
Someone jostled Milo’s elbow—Gordy Fletcher.
“Signing up for stupid council?” Gordy laughed loudly, then looked at Zack Riley to see if he thought it was funny, too. Zack just looked the way he usually did: bored.
“It’s student council,” Jazz told them. “And I’m running for president.”
Gordy grinned. “Whoop-de-do.”
Jazz crossed her arms. “What’s that supposed to mean? It’s only the most important job in the whole school!”
“Oh, yeah?” Zack said. “I thought that was the principal.”
Gordy laughed and punched Zack’s arm. Zack ignored him.
“You know what I mean,” Jazz said. “The most important student job.”
Zack pointed his chin toward the list. “Then how come nobody signed up to run but you?”
“They know they can’t beat Jazz!” Milo said.
“Oh, yeah?” Zack looked at Jazz. “You sure of that?”
“Zack, you should run for president,” Gordy said. “Rule the school.”
Zack shrugged. “So? I already do.”
He turned away.
Then, half smiling, he turned back. “Might as well make it official, though.”
He leaned over to the sign-up sheet. Under Jazz’s name, he scrawled:
ZACK RILEY.
Jazz’s campaign team met at her house after school. Along with Milo, three others had joined her team: their friend Carlos, a quiet girl named Pria, and … Brooke Whitley?
Milo was amazed. Sure, Brooke and Jazz were getting along better this year, now that Brooke’s best friends, the Emilies, were in a different class.
Still … Brooke as a team member? Brooke liked to be number one. He wondered why she wasn’t running for something herself. Had she changed that much over the summer?
Floyd sat in a cage by Jazz’s window, plucking sadly at his feathers.
Carlos said, “Isn’t Floyd usually a little more … lively?”
Lively was not the word Milo would have used. Fiendish was more like it.
“I think he really misses Spencer.” Jazz stepped up to the cage. “Spencer will be back soon, Floyd. He just went on a trip.”
Floyd eyed the children glumly. Then, faintly, he squawked, “Ice pie.”
“Ice pie?” Milo asked.
Jazz looked puzzled. “Spencer left a bag of Birdie Bread. He didn’t mention any other treats.”
Brooke plunked down in Jazz’s chair.
“Okay, everybody,” she announced. “Let’s get this meeting started. First, we need to choose a campaign manager. That’s me, of course.”
“You?” Carlos said. “Why you?”
Brooke looked offended. “Well, obviously it should be someone with strong organizing
skills—”
Carlos snickered. “You mean somebody bossy?”
Quickly, Jazz said, “I don’t need a manager. We’ll all just work together.”
She pulled out a sheet of paper. “Here are the rules for the campaign. It says we’re not allowed to give out candy—”
Carlos groaned.
“Or any other kind of gift or bribe. And all our campaign posters have to go in a special area in the hall.”
“I’m excellent at making posters,” Brooke said.
Pria spoke up for the first time, softly. “I made a poster.”
Brooke stared at her. “You did? Already? But—”
“Let’s see it!” Jazz said.
Pria pulled the poster from her backpack and unrolled it. Brooke hung back, frowning, as the rest of the team crowded around.
“PICK JAZZ FOR PRESIDENT,” Jazz read. “Wow, Pria, this is fantastic! Where did you get a picture of my face?”
“I cropped it out of our class photo,” Pria explained. “I had to scan it first.”
“How did you learn to make letters like that?” Milo asked.
Pria blushed. “My dad is a graphic designer. He—Eek!”
Jazz’s pet potbellied pig, Bitsy, had wandered in and climbed into Pria’s lap. Milo didn’t blame her for being startled. Bitsy was little for a pig, but she still weighed well over a hundred pounds.
“Bitsy!” Jazz scolded.
From his cage, Floyd repeated, “Bitsy! Bitsy!”
Bitsy glanced up at him, then away.
Jazz laughed. “I think Floyd has a crush on her. When he’s out of his cage, he follows her around the house. He even tried to eat out of her bowl.”
“Biiiiiiiitsy!” Floyd screeched.
The pig heaved herself off Pria’s lap and stalked out of the room.
“I don’t think she likes him back,” Carlos said.
Milo looked at the poster again. He wondered what kind of poster Zack would put up.
“I’m worried about Zack,” he said.
“What do you mean?” Jazz asked.
“I think a lot of kids will vote for him because he’s, you know … cool.”
“Everyone likes Jazz, too,” Pria said.
“It’s not about who everybody likes,” Jazz said. “It’s about who cares enough to work hard and do a really good job. And that’s me, not Zack!”
Milo hoped everyone would see it that way. He knew that Jazz would be a better student council president than Zack. But if Zack wanted to win—
Well, usually, whatever Zack wanted, he got.
Milo felt better the next morning when he saw Pria taping up her poster in the hall at school. None of the other posters looked anywhere near as good. And Zack and Gordy hadn’t put one up at all.
“See?” Jazz said as they walked down the hall toward their classrooms. “Zack doesn’t care about being president. He’s not even going to try.”
A group of girls hurried past them. “Pick Jazz for president!” one called out. The others giggled.
Jazz looked puzzled. “Um … thanks.”
Milo’s class played Spelling Soccer and then had a pop quiz. It wasn’t until morning recess that Milo thought of the election again. As his class filed down the hall, the kids at the front of the line began to laugh and point.
Milo looked. It was Pria’s poster. PICK JAZZ FOR PRESIDENT, it still said, beside a picture of a smiling Jazz.
But under that, someone had stuck a giant foam finger, the kind that people wave at sports events.
The finger appeared to be picking Jazz’s nose.
On the playground, Jazz’s campaign team huddled together.
Jazz was furious. “Everyone in school is laughing at me now!”
“It’s my fault,” Pria said. “I’m the one who wrote PICK JAZZ.”
Milo thought he saw Brooke smile, but she turned her head away before he could be sure.
“Don’t be silly,” Jazz told Pria. “Everybody knows whose fault it is.” She glared at Zack and Gordy, who were shooting layups. “And I’m going to give them a piece of my mind.”
Jazz strode off, leaving the others staring after her. They caught up with her as she reached the basketball court.
“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Carlos asked.
“Hey! It’s Team Booger!”
Gordy stood grinning, basketball under his arm.
Jazz marched straight up to Zack. “You’re supposed to make your own poster,” she said. “Not mess up mine.”
Zack looked bored. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Yeah!” Gordy said. “Me neither.” He mimed poking his finger up his nose, and then laughed.
Jazz said to Zack, “If you think this election is a joke, you shouldn’t run. Instead of making fun of me, why don’t you come up with your own ideas?”
“What? Bringing in that finger was a great idea!” Gordy said.
Jazz’s eyes narrowed.
Slowly, she said, “You brought that finger in to put on my poster because it said PICK JAZZ FOR PRESIDENT.”
Gordy snorted. “Duh.”
“But the poster just went up this morning.” Jazz’s hands went to her hips, and she leaned forward. “How did you know ahead of time what it would say?”
Silence.
Gordy’s mouth dropped open. Even Zack looked startled.
Milo stared at them. He thought back to that morning. Those giggling girls had passed him and Jazz in the hall just after Pria had put up the poster. So Zack and Gordy must have been ready with the finger right away!
Zack’s startled look faded and was replaced by his lazy half smile.
“How could anyone know?” he said.
“That’s what I asked,” Jazz said.
Zack gazed around the group of kids facing him. Milo. Carlos. Pria. Brooke. Then he looked back at Jazz.
“I guess somebody must have spilled the beans,” he said.
Startled, Jazz turned to her team. They all shook their heads.
“Not me!”
“No way!”
“None of us would tell him anything!”
Still half-smiling, Zack shrugged. “Okay. Whatever.”
Jazz’s hands flew to her hips. “Are you trying to say that someone on my team is lying?”
“I’m not trying to say anything,” Zack said.
With that, he grabbed the ball from Gordy, dribbled to the basket, and shot. The ball went in.
After school, Milo hurried over to Jazz’s house. He wanted to talk to her alone before the rest of the campaign team arrived.
Walking into her room, he tossed his backpack on the floor next to her bed. It landed with a thump.
“SQUAWWWWWK!”
A flurry of feathers burst out from under the bed and headed straight for Milo, murder in its eyes.
“AAAAAAAH!” Milo jumped back. “Parrot ambush!”
Jazz scooped Floyd up and smoothed his ruffled feathers. “Don’t be silly. You just startled him.”
“What was he doing under there?”
“Oh, sometimes he wanders into a dark place and falls asleep. My mom once found him in the laundry hamper. Lucky he didn’t get dumped in the washing machine!”
Hmph. As far as Milo was concerned, a run through the spin cycle might do Floyd some good.
Jazz popped the parrot in its cage, and Milo sat down on the floor.
“So, I’ve been thinking about who could have told Zack about the poster,” Milo said.
Jazz nodded. “Yeah. Me too.”
“It can’t be Carlos,” Milo said.
“Of course not! We’ve been friends forever.”
“And Pria seems so nice… .” He paused. “Maybe a little too nice?”
“She is nice,” Jazz said firmly. “Anyway, it was Pria’s poster. Why would she want it messed up?”
“What about Brooke, then?” Milo asked. “She seemed pretty jealous about Pria’s poster. Plus, she didn’t get to be campaign mana
ger like she wanted. And Carlos called her bossy.”
Jazz frowned. “I know she was upset about that stuff. But so upset she’d turn into a spy?”
“Ice pie,” Floyd said from his cage. He put his head under his wing.
“Well, then, who is the spy?” Milo asked Jazz.
“I don’t think there is one,” Jazz said. “Zack was probably just trying to bug me.”
Milo jumped up. “That’s it!”
“That’s what?”
“A bug! You know, one of those tiny things that people use to listen in.” His gaze shot wildly around her room. “I bet Zack has this whole place bugged!”
Jazz rolled her eyes. “Milo, come on. We’re talking about a kid our own age, not some bad guy in a movie. And Zack has never even been inside my house.”
“What about Gordy? He lives right down the block.”
“You seriously think I would invite Gordy up to my room?” Jazz shook her head.
“He could have sneaked in through the window,” Milo said.
“My room is on the second floor,” Jazz reminded him.
“Well … has he given you anything?” Milo asked. “A bug can be disguised all kinds of ways. I saw an old TV show where a bug was hidden in a shoe.”
“Who would give someone a shoe?” Jazz said. “Anyway, I know better than to take anything from Gordy.”
She had a point. Gordy’s “presents” tended to make people itch, squirt water in their faces, or explode.
Milo sat down on Jazz’s bed. “Okay. But if it’s not a bug, then how did Zack and Gordy find out about the poster ahead of time?”
“Maybe they saw Pria with it on the way over here yesterday,” Jazz said.
Milo shook his head. “She had it rolled up. Remember?”
“Well, maybe it was an accident. Like, maybe Pria and her mom were at the supermarket, talking, and they didn’t realize Gordy and his mom were in the next aisle over… .”
Milo just looked at Jazz.
“Okay, it’s not that likely,” she said. “But it’s a lot more likely than my room being bugged. Or somebody on my own team being a spy.”
The Case of the Crooked Campaign Page 1