“ICE PIE!” Floyd squawked.
A light dawned.
“I don’t think he’s saying ice pie,” Milo said. “I think he’s saying … a spy!”
Jazz shrugged. “So? He’s a parrot. He’s repeating what I said.”
“He said it yesterday, too!” Milo said. “During the meeting! Do you think he was trying to tell us something?”
“Come on, Milo. He’s just a bird.”
Milo looked at Floyd.
Floyd blew him a loud Bronx cheer. Then he laughed like a hyena.
Just a bird? Milo didn’t think so.
Floyd was crazy. Floyd was mean. But Floyd was very, very smart.
Maybe Jazz didn’t want to believe that anybody on her team could be a spy. But Milo planned to keep a close eye on the other team members during today’s meeting.
And on Floyd.
Pria came in with a brand-new poster she had made to replace the one Gordy and Zack had ruined. It had a big mirror sticker on it, and it said LOOK WHO’S VOTING FOR JAZZ.
Everyone clustered around to admire it, except for Brooke, who suddenly had to find something deep in her backpack.
No doubt about it, Milo thought. Brooke was not happy about Pria having all the ideas.
He glanced toward Floyd’s cage, hoping for a hint. Was Brooke the spy? But Floyd was busy picking at a chunk of Birdie Bread.
Jazz wanted to talk about election day. Before the voting, every candidate would give a speech, saying what they would do for the school if they won.
Jazz had a zillion ideas—like a “booknic,” where the kids ate lunch outside and everybody brought a book, and a “world’s fair,” where every class made food and led activities from a different country.
But the idea the whole team liked best was the Pizza Plan. Everyone at school dreaded pizza day, because the cafeteria pizza was so bad.
“I’ve heard it comes out of the freezer in big cardboard boxes,” Brooke said.
“I’ve heard the crust is made from cardboard boxes,” Carlos said. “And the cheese is really leftover white glue.”
Jazz’s plan was to get the lunch people to order pizza from Angie’s instead. Angie’s was the most popular pizza place in town.
“But won’t it cost more?” Pria asked. “My parents are always talking about money problems at the school.”
“Maybe we could have a fundraiser,” Milo said.
“That’s just what I was thinking!” Jazz said. “But not the same old stuff, like getting parents to buy mugs or smelly candles. I want to do something different and fun.”
The door opened, and Jazz’s dad poked his head in. “Anybody hungry? My muffins just came out.”
The team stampeded down the stairs and gathered around the kitchen table.
Through a mouthful of hot muffin, Carlos said, “’Ow abou’ a bake shale?”
Jazz spread butter on her muffin. “The Mathletes already have a bake sale. Pee Wee Football, too.”
“Makeovers!” Brooke said.
Milo and Jazz glanced at each other. Brooke always had the same idea.
Carlos groaned. “Makeovers! Yuck. What’s next, a kissing booth?” He made smoochy noises.
Brooke set her glass of milk down with a thunk.
“I wouldn’t kiss you for a million dollars,” she told Carlos. “I’d rather eat cafeteria pizza every day for the rest of my life. I’d rather—”
Looking around, she spotted Bitsy, who had followed them into the kitchen and was gazing longingly at the muffins.
“I’d rather kiss a pig!” she finished, glaring at Carlos.
He snickered. “I’d pay to see that.”
A loud screech interrupted their squabble. Startled, Milo spun around. Had Floyd gotten out of his cage?
“That thing is getting on my nerves,” Jazz’s dad said. He picked up something on the counter that looked like a walkie-talkie, only pink. He clicked it off.
Oh, right. Milo had forgotten about Floyd’s baby monitor. Spencer really was a nut about that bird!
Jazz was staring into space, muffin halfway to her mouth.
“Are you okay?” Milo asked.
Jazz put down the muffin. “Carlos, you’re a genius!”
“I am?” Carlos said.
Jazz turned to Brooke. “And you’re a genius, too!”
“What are you talking about?” Brooke demanded.
“Carlos said he’d pay to see you kiss a pig.”
“So?”
Jazz smiled. “I bet lots of kids would pay to see somebody kiss a pig. Like, say … their teacher.”
“Or the principal!” Milo said.
“We could put out money jars with people’s names on them,” Brooke said. “And whoever’s jar got the most money, that person would have to kiss your pig. In front of the whole school!”
“Would any of the teachers do that?” Pria asked.
“Sure!” Carlos said. “For a good cause. Remember all the teachers who went in the dunking booth last spring?”
Everyone was grinning widely now. Even Brooke.
Carlos stuck his hand across the table. “Kiss a Pig!”
Jazz slapped her hand on top of his. Then Milo, Brooke, and Pria added theirs. “Kiss a pig!” they all yelled, and threw their hands up in the air.
Milo looked around at the smiling faces. How could any of them be a spy?
Maybe Jazz was right, and Zack and Gordy had found out about Pria’s poster by accident somehow. In that case, there was nothing to worry about. After all, lightning never struck twice.
Did it?
The next morning, Milo overslept. He gulped down a quick bowl of cereal and rushed off to school. He slid into his seat just as the PA speaker finished playing the school song.
Then the principal announced, “Today we have a special message.”
After a pause and some muffled sounds, another voice came on.
“This is Gordy Fletcher, campaign manager for ZACK RILEY.”
Milo glanced over at Carlos.
Carlos made a gagging face.
“ZACK RILEY knows how all you little people suffer here at school,” Gordy went on. “Right, ZACK?”
Zack’s drawl: “Yeah, sure.”
“ZACK RILEY feels your pain. Because ZACK RILEY has eaten the pizza in the cafeteria.”
As giggles broke out around him, Milo felt a twinge of uneasiness.
“ZACK RILEY wants to end the suffering. ZACK RILEY wants to bring us … Tell them, ZACK!”
Zack came on again. “Angie’s pizza.”
The class exploded with cheers.
Milo and Carlos stared at each other. That was Jazz’s plan!
“But how will we pay for this pizza?” Gordy’s voice went on. “Never fear, ZACK RILEY has the answer—”
Milo held his breath. Please, no!
“—and tomorrow, on election day, you’ll find out what it is!”
The principal came back on to talk about the candidate speeches and voting, but nobody paid any attention.
The class buzzed. Everyone was trying to guess how Zack planned to raise money to buy Angie’s pizza.
Milo didn’t have to guess.
Zack and Gordy’s pizza plan was Jazz’s pizza plan. If Zack and Gordy had found out about that, then they knew everything about yesterday’s campaign meeting. And that included Kiss a Pig.
On the way out to recess, Milo saw that Zack and Gordy had spoiled Pria’s second poster. Above LOOK WHO’S VOTING FOR JAZZ, they had stuck a picture over the mirror. It was a picture of a chimpanzee.
A slow burn crept up Milo’s neck. Gordy and Zack really were making monkeys out of Jazz’s campaign team! They either sabotaged or stole every idea the team came up with.
Gordy and Zack might have found out about the first poster by accident. But the second poster? And the pizza idea?
This was no accident.
In Milo’s head, he heard Floyd’s squawk again: A spy!
When he got outside, Mil
o saw an excited crowd surrounding Zack and Gordy. Zack leaned back, half smiling, while Gordy held forth.
Jazz’s campaign team clustered on the other side of the playground.
Jazz was fuming. “I’m going right over there and telling everybody they stole our idea!”
“No one will believe you,” Pria said. She looked close to tears.
Carlos agreed. “How can we prove it? Zack and Gordy will just say you’re being a bad sport.”
Brooke clenched her fists. “We can’t let them get away with it. It isn’t fair!”
Milo looked at her. She really seemed upset. It was hard to believe she could be faking.
But if Brooke wasn’t the spy, who was?
“We need to figure out how Zack and Gordy are learning our plans,” Milo said. “Someone is giving them away.”
Quickly, he scanned the others’ faces, hoping to catch a flash of guilt.
Jazz frowned. “Milo—”
“He’s right,” Brooke said.
Everyone looked at her.
“The five of us were at the meetings,” Brooke said. “Zack and Gordy weren’t. So how do they keep stealing our ideas?”
“Maybe somebody told them by accident,” Pria suggested. “You know, like a younger brother or sister.”
Carlos shook his head. “My sisters are too little. They don’t even go to school.” He looked at Milo.
Milo considered. His younger brother certainly had a big mouth. But Milo was sure Ethan had no idea of their campaign plans. He shook his head, too.
“I haven’t told anyone anything,” Brooke said.
“Me neither,” Pria said.
They all looked at each other.
“Now what?” Carlos asked.
Jazz sighed.
“I don’t know,” she said. “But we’d better figure out something—and soon. Otherwise, Zack is going to win this election by a landslide!”
When Milo dropped Ethan off after school, he saw an envelope with his name on the kitchen table.
A new lesson from Dash!
Relevant and Irrelevant Information
Everybody knows that clues help a detective solve a case. But all clues aren’t created equal. A clue that seems important may turn out to be a red herring—irrelevant information that leads you away from the real solution.
I learned about red herrings in one of my very first cases. Arriving on the scene of a bank robbery, I spotted a tiny scrap of paper near the teller’s window. I picked it up and found that it was a Brazilian postage stamp.
Aha! I thought. A gang of robbers from Brazil!
I slipped the stamp into my pocket, careful not to be seen by the police detective, Captain Phil Ately. After all, I wanted to be the one to crack the case!
Hours later, my plane touched down in Brazil, and I was off. By day, I cheered at soccer matches while I scanned the crowd. By night, I danced the samba while I questioned suspects. Wherever a clue led, I followed—mountain, beach, or plains. I even paddled up the Amazon, where I saw tree frogs, howler monkeys, and electric eels … but no bank robbers.
At last, I gave up and returned to the United States. At an airport newsstand, I saw the headline: ROBBERS NABBED. Captain Ately had caught the bank heist gang!
I rushed to police headquarters. “Where did you track down the robbers?” I asked the captain. “Sao Paulo? Rio de Janeiro?”
He looked puzzled. “Hoboken, New Jersey.”
“New Jersey! But what about this?” I pulled out the Brazilian stamp.
Captain Ately’s eyes lit up. “You found it!” he exclaimed. “I knew it must have fallen out of my pocket somewhere. This time I’ll make sure it goes straight into my stamp collection!”
Yes, I learned about red herrings the hard way. But I did have a terrific tan.
Milo stuffed the lesson in his pocket and headed to Jazz’s house. He found her sitting out on the front porch, writing in her detective notebook.
While Jazz read Dash’s lesson, Milo looked at what she’d written.
That was the question, Milo thought. How? How did Zack and Gordy find out whatever they planned to do?
A door slammed, and Jazz’s neighbor, Mrs. Budge, strode out of her house carrying a cordless phone with the wires trailing behind.
“I’m going to do it this time,” she announced. “Even if it makes me feel like a murderer.”
“Do what?” Jazz asked.
Mrs. Budge walked over to them. “I’m finally getting rid of this phone,” she said. “I don’t mind a little static now and then. But lately— Screeches! Squawks! It’s like a jungle full of parrots.”
Milo and Jazz looked at each other. Parrots?
Jazz said, “Are you sure you’re not hearing real parrot noises, Mrs. Budge? I’ve been parrot-sitting for my friend.”
Her neighbor looked surprised. “Oh, no. I didn’t hear it through the window. Those noises are definitely coming from my phone.”
Jazz stared at Mrs. Budge’s phone.
“Could I borrow that?” she asked. “Just for a minute?”
An instant later, Jazz vanished inside. Milo leapt for the screen door before it slammed and hurried after her.
“I don’t get it,” he said. “Floyd’s been calling Mrs. Budge? But how did he get to the phone? Did he figure out how to break out of his cage?”
“I don’t think Floyd’s using the phone at all,” Jazz said, heading for the kitchen. “I should have listened to you in the first place! You were right!”
Huh? “About what?”
She stopped and turned to him. “About my room being bugged.”
“So Zack and Gordy did sneak in!” Milo exclaimed.
Jazz shook her head. “They didn’t have to. The bug was already there.”
“But … how did it get in your room?” he asked, confused. “Who planted it?”
Jazz smiled. “Me.”
Milo stared at Jazz. “You bugged your own room?”
“Not on purpose,” Jazz said. She pointed to the baby monitor receiver on the kitchen counter.
Oh …
It was slowly starting to make sense.
“You think Mrs. Budge’s phone is picking up the noises from Floyd’s baby monitor?” Milo said. “That’s why she’s hearing parrot screeches?”
Jazz nodded. “Let’s try it for ourselves and see.”
She switched on the baby monitor receiver. Then she plugged Mrs. Budge’s phone into the wall and turned it on. Milo leaned close as Jazz held the phone up to her ear.
They waited.
At first Milo didn’t hear anything. Then he thought he heard a faint crackling sound. He leaned in closer. Was that … ?
“BIIIIIIIITSY!” the phone shrieked.
Milo jumped back, rubbing his ear.
Jazz pointed at the baby monitor receiver. “It’s coming out of there, too! I was right!”
“But how is that even possible?” Milo said.
“The baby monitor in Floyd’s cage is like a little radio,” Jazz explained. “It sends out sound signals for the receiver to pick up. And Mrs. Budge lives so close, her phone picked up the signals too!”
They unplugged the phone and ran back out to Mrs. Budge, whose puzzled look quickly turned to a wide smile as she listened to Jazz’s explanation.
“Poor old phone! So all that squawking wasn’t your fault after all.” Mrs. Budge patted the phone fondly. “And here I was ready to toss you out!”
“Sorry about the noise,” Jazz said. “But Spencer will be home tomorrow night.”
“Oh, I don’t mind,” Mrs. Budge said. “Now that I know it’s a real parrot!”
She thanked Jazz and left, but Milo barely noticed. His mind was in a whirl.
Floyd’s baby monitor was in his cage. The cage was in Jazz’s room. And Jazz’s room was where they had been having their campaign meetings.
“So that’s how Zack and Gordy have been spying!” Milo exclaimed. “They’re hearing the sounds from Floyd’s monitor, ju
st like Mrs. Budge did!”
Jazz nodded. “I think they must be sneaking around in my yard with some kind of receiver. Another baby monitor, a walkie-talkie …”
“Walkie-talkies!” Milo said. “Gordy has a set of those. Remember last Halloween, how he hid one of them under a pile of leaves and tried to scare people with banshee screams when they walked by?”
“And then he ran out of his house crying when the Perkins’ poodle lifted its leg on the pile of leaves,” Jazz said.
Milo laughed. “Served him right.” Another question popped into his head. “But how did Zack and Gordy know there was a baby monitor in Floyd’s cage?”
Jazz frowned. “Maybe they heard us talking about it at school?”
Milo thought back. “That’s right! They were in the hall when you told me. Remember? That was when Zack signed up to run for president.”
Jazz scowled. “Even though he doesn’t have a single good idea for the school!”
“He doesn’t need his own ideas,” Milo said. “He’s got ours.”
Jazz sighed. Then her eyes widened. “Or … does he?”
“What do you mean? Didn’t you hear him get on the PA this morning and tell everyone about Angie’s pizza?”
“I didn’t hear him say anything about Kiss a Pig,” Jazz said.
“He’s saving it for the assembly,” Milo reminded her.
“Maybe he just said that,” Jazz said. “Maybe he really doesn’t know what our fundraising idea is.”
“But he heard our whole campaign meeting!”
Jazz lifted an eyebrow. “Even when we went down to the kitchen?”
Holy cow. She was right!
Floyd’s monitor only picked up sounds made near his cage. Once they’d left Jazz’s room, nothing they said could have been overheard.
“So Zack and Gordy don’t know about Kiss a Pig!” Milo exclaimed.
“Not yet, anyway,” Jazz said. “They’re probably counting on hearing us talk about our big idea today.”
Milo grinned. “But we’ll have the monitor turned off this time, and they won’t hear a thing.”
The Case of the Crooked Campaign Page 2