Super Puzzletastic Mysteries

by Chris Grabenstein

  Mongo and Riley followed him out of the office and sat down on the bench so Mongo could pull on his boots.

  “Hey, Riley?”

  “Yeah, Mongo?”

  “Why’d Kilmeade march all the way over to my house in the snow to steal my boots? He could’ve put on anybody’s boots. His mom’s. His dad’s.”

  “He was going for a twofer,” Riley explained.

  “Huh?”

  “He wanted to earn his fee from Steve Duffy, sure. But he also wants to take over our territory. So he tried to take a shot at breaking up the gnat pack. He probably thought I’d kick you off the crew for doing something dumb like writing FART in the snow.”

  “Would you?”

  “No way,” said Riley. “Come on, you’re the biggest gnat in the whole pack. We’re nothing without you.”

  “Thanks, Riley.”

  Riley grinned and remembered something his dad, who was in the Army, always told him: “Protect your country, protect your family, protect your friends, and defend those who cannot defend themselves.”

  Yep.

  That’s just how Riley Mack rolled.

  Solution for Possum-Man and Janet

  Janet pushed the big button that had been hidden under the Danger sign.

  Instantly, the paint stopped rising and the door out of the tank popped open. Thousands of gallons of paint went pouring out onto the factory floor—carrying Uncle Jim and Janet with it.

  “It said ‘Manual override’!” Janet shouted as she rode the big blue wave through the door. “‘Push in case of emergency’!”

  “Ohhhhhhhhhh!” said Uncle Jim.

  The paint swept them another twenty yards from the tank as it spread out in every direction. The second he came gliding to a stop, Uncle Jim popped to his feet, blue from the bottom of his boots to his thick neck.

  “Now to catch Limerick King!” he declared, slamming a fist into an open palm. Speckles of paint sprayed onto his face, but he didn’t notice. He was too busy bolting away. He almost slipped and fell on the slick floor, yet managed to make it to the hallway leading outside.

  Janet got up more slowly, took a deep breath, and followed.

  She found her uncle outside looking disappointed. There were police cars everywhere, and Limerick King and his minions were already in handcuffs.

  “Darn it,” Uncle Jim said. “I didn’t get to punch anybody.”

  “Oh, there you are,” said a familiar voice.

  Janet turned to find Lieutenant Celeste Wroblewski of the Cleveland Police walking their way with Uncle Jim’s Possum Belt in her hands.

  “They wouldn’t tell us where you were,” the lieutenant said, jerking her chin at Limerick King and his gang.

  Punk—or maybe it was Skunk—gave Limerick King a kick as they were being shoved into a squad car.

  “You and your dumb limericks,” she grumbled.

  “How’d you know to come here?” Janet asked Wroblewski.

  The cop handed Uncle Jim his belt, then pointed at the Night Glider. All its lights were flashing, the windshield wipers were on, and a flamethrower was spitting a stream of fire from the front.

  A dark shape sat in the pilot’s seat—a shape that was wagging its tail.

  “We got a call about a dog in a flying saucer trying to burn down the Spreadz-Easy factory. I had a feeling you two were involved.” Wroblewski looked Uncle Jim and Janet up and down. “What did they do to you, anyway?”

  “No time for chitchat,” said Uncle Jim, buckling on his belt. “There’s still important work to be done.”

  Wroblewski looked surprised. “Some of Limerick King’s gang is still on the loose?”

  Uncle Jim shook his head.

  “It’s worse than that.” He nodded at Janet. “She’s up past her bedtime, and there’s a math test tomorrow.”

  “To the Night Glider!” Janet cried.

  She and Uncle Jim took off running.

  Solution for Monkey Business

  “It wasn’t any of the suspects,” I explained. “It was Padgett. I don’t think she’s really a keeper at all!”

  I then explained my reasoning:

  Padgett had said that the giraffes probably reminded Zipper of home. But giraffes are African animals and spider monkeys are from the forests of the Americas, ranging from Mexico down to the Amazon. In fact, no monkey with a prehensile tail lives in Africa; those monkeys only live in the New World. Any keeper working with primates should have known that.

  Once I had told them this, Hoenekker quickly dispatched his team after Padgett, who realized the jig was up and bolted for the exit. Marge O’Malley tackled her, and both tumbled to the ground, taking down the poor person playing Kazoo the Koala that day, resulting in another traumatic mascot beheading.

  It turned out that Padgett wasn’t named Padgett at all. Her name was Matilda Bleeker. She had slipped into the employee area of the park and stolen keeper Padgett’s uniform with the intention of making off with a monkey—because she had always wanted a monkey. However, Matilda ended up learning the hard way that monkeys make bad pets. While being carried away from the scene of the crime, Zipper escaped the net and, recognizing Matilda as the person who had tried to steal her, promptly bit her on the nose, resulting in her needing fourteen stitches.

  As for the fluffy object Zipper had dropped, it turned out to be part of one of the eyebrows of the Uncle O-Rang costume. It was returned and reattached without incident.

  The three suspects were each given free passes to FunJungle and coupons good for a complimentary $11.99 soda as an apology for being wrongly accusing of monkey theft.

  For my help in solving the mystery, I was treated to a free corn dog.

  Solution for The Fifty-Seventh Cat

  Everyone started talking at once. Anya ran around the cat homes in excitement, and then Mom showed up, frantic. “Where did you girls go?” she thundered, relieved and angry at the same time. All the while, Div stared down the pebbled walkway, her mouth dry. Should she say what she thought? What would happen if she did?

  Then Judy came down the walkway. Their eyes met and she gave a sad smile.

  “It was you, wasn’t it?” Div asked softly.

  Anya stopped running. “It was her?”

  Everyone stopped talking.

  “It’s not right,” Judy cried. “He works so hard. Harder than all of us. It’s not easy looking after fifty-six cats! And in a few weeks when Marilyn Monroe has her litter, it will be sixty-four!”

  “Kittens!” Anya said, delighted.

  “Shush,” Div told her. She turned to Judy. “You hid the statue in the cat house. Why?”

  “When I saw the statue break,” Judy said, tears streaming down her face, “I knew Shel would get in trouble. It happened when Elvis jumped off the bed. His tail knocked over the statue.”

  Shel’s mouth fell open.

  Judy nodded at him through her tears. “Luckily it happened between tour groups. There was no one in the room for about two minutes. Still, there were cat biscuits on the ground. So I had just enough time to hide the statue under my shirt, grab the biscuits, and run to the cat house. And um, dispose of the biscuits along the way.”

  “By eating them!” Anya said admiringly. “That was smart.”

  “Judy,” Shel said, finding his voice at last. “You took a big risk to protect Elvis and me. I don’t get it; why would you do all of that?”

  Anya snorted. “Duh!”

  Mr. Frost spoke up. “This is quite a story,” he said gently. “I’ll see that the museum doesn’t press charges. After all, the cats are part of the museum, aren’t they? And . . . let me see, maybe that Wally knows something about art restoration?”

  “Wally?” Anya asked.

  “You know, the man wearing the red suit,” Div said.

  It turns out Wally didn’t, but his partner, Lizzie B., did. Restoring old art was her specialty. For a fee, of course. In no time, the police officers were sent away, the gate was reopened, and plans were made to
repair the broken statue and have it back on display soon.

  “Maybe we haven’t made it easy for you,” Mr. Frost said to Shel after the police were gone. “You understood all along, we have to keep this place the way Hemingway wanted. It would be wrong to sell the Picasso cat.”

  “Yes,” Shel said. “And it would be wrong to relandscape. I see that now.”

  “Maybe we can still replace the magnolia bush with something else,” Mr. Frost said. “We don’t want poor Fred getting sick.” Then he added gently, “But also, Shel, fifty-six is a lot of cats for one person to take care of. No one realized that until now. No one except Judy.”

  It was decided that Judy would sign on as Shel’s assistant. She had two cats of her own at home.

  “Only until I train her,” Shel said quickly. “After that we’re equals on the job.”

  When Div and Anya and their mother were heading out, they could see Shel and Judy holding hands in the garden, a family of cats surrounding them.

  “Aw, I told you she likes him,” Anya said.

  “Yeah, well, he likes her, too,” Div said.

  “Bye, girls,” Mr. Frost said at the gate. “The Hemingway cats are forever grateful to you!”

  Just behind him stood Elvis the tuxedo cat. “Meow,” it said. “Meow, meow!”

  “Come on, girls,” Mom said. “It’s time for Dolphin Paradise.”

  Div and Anya followed their mother to the street, where the afternoon sun shone bright.

  “I wonder,” Div said to Anya, “if there will be fifty-seven dolphins, too!”

  Author’s Note:

  This mystery was inspired by a recent trip to Key West where I got to visit the Hemingway House and see all those cats! I also saw a replica of the Picasso cat that was given as a gift from Pablo Picasso to Ernest Hemingway. The original statue was stolen and broken in real life before it was found. This story is my imagined version of what happened!—SC

  Solution for The Perfect Alibi

  Frankie figured Mr. Cumberland was the mastermind, because he was wearing a fancy watch just a month after the burglary. Later, when pressed, his grandmother remembered her husband had worn the exact same pocket watch.

  Secondly, Frankie knew Shana Cooper’s alibi was fake because of the church clock. The burglary happened on Sunday, March tenth, when daylight saving time takes effect. She was actually seen running up the church steps at one o’clock. The church’s maintenance man, as Frankie learned on her field trip, always set the clock on Mondays. On Sunday, the church clock was still set to standard time. Shana Cooper helped her boyfriend Petey steal the jewelry, then went to church. She lucked into her fake alibi until Frankie figured it out.

  For Shana and Petey to have cleaned out the house so quickly, they had to know where the most valuable jewels and items were stored. They needed inside information, which the grandson was only too eager to provide.

  Frankie and George solved the mystery. Were you able to figure it out?

  Solution for Three Brothers, Two Sisters, and One Cup of Poison

  Hannah smiled. She walked over to the silver goblet filled to the brim with poison. “When you think about it, only two of your sons had motive to poison you all these months. And those are the two sons getting something from your will.”

  “Blake and Jake!” Aunt Bea said. “So they’re working together?”

  “No,” Hannah said. “They both have motive. But only one of them has the means.”

  At this, Bubbie looked confused. “What do you mean, Hannah? Both Blake and Jake have been taking care of Bea in this house. Any one of them could have slipped the ethylene glycol into Aunt Bea’s food or drink at any time.”

  “True,” Hannah said. “But only one of them had easy access to antifreeze in the first place.”

  She looked at the triplets, who all looked very nervous.

  “Aunt Bea told us that Jake works part time at a soup restaurant and that Blake works part time at an auto shop. So which place would have a very poisonous chemical like antifreeze?”

  “You put antifreeze into cars,” Aunt Bea whispered.

  All eyes turned to Blake.

  “I—I’m being framed!” he said. “It’s Jake—I swear!”

  Hannah shook her head. “Oh, Blake,” she said in mock pity. “We know it isn’t Jake . . . because Jake was the only one eating the food tonight. He dug right into the feast without hesitation or fear. He had no idea the food or drinks had trace amounts of poison in them. But you knew—that’s why you said you weren’t hungry.”

  Beads of sweat formed on Blake’s forehead. His smile had completely fallen from his face. His eyes darted to the door. But Drake stepped back and blocked the doorway.

  “I can’t believe this,” Aunt Bea said. “You were making me sick on purpose?! Why?!”

  “This smile of mine? It was all fake,” Blake said sourly. “I wanted my fortune! I wanted it now! I’m tired of living in this house, waiting on you hand and foot. I wanted to be like Drake—to move away and follow my dreams, but you felt so betrayed when he left that you decided to cut him out of your inheritance. I put in too much hard work and too many years of my life for you to write me out.”

  “And . . . how did that work out for you?” Isaac asked.

  Blake snarled.

  “Thank you, Hannah. Thank you!” Aunt Bea said. “I will write Blake out of my will. Jake will get my necklace, now. And Drake will get the house. Jake and Drake are the only ones I can trust—”

  “Not so fast,” Hannah said, holding up the goblet. “The person who poured poison in this cup . . . was not Blake.”

  The triplets looked at each other. Then Jake pointed at Drake, while Drake pointed at Jake. And Blake pointed at both of them.

  “Isaac and I were sitting on the couch, waiting for your lawyer, when we heard some pots and pans clanging in the kitchen. Bubbie was sleeping, but Isaac and I got up to investigate. We opened the door just in time to see a triplet pour the rat poison into the goblet. But there was something very fishy about the whole scenario.”

  “Fishy? I think you mean ratty,” Isaac said.

  “Why would someone make loud noises in the kitchen before quietly tipping the poison into a cup? How is it that we would crack open the door just in time to see the crime?” Hannah threw her hands up in the air. “You see? Someone wanted to make sure we saw him poisoning the cup. He wanted to get caught!”

  Bubbie scrunched her nose. “But why?”

  Hannah grinned. “This goes back to motive. Who had the most to gain from tonight?”

  All eyes turned to Drake.

  “You’re crazy!” Drake said, adjusting his glasses. “You—you have no proof! You even said you weren’t sure which of us you saw!”

  “Here’s the clincher,” Hannah said. “The poison Blake was using was ethylene glycol. The poison used tonight was rat poison. Only the people who saw the note Bubbie gave Aunt Bea would think that rat poison was correct.”

  “I never saw the note,” Drake said.

  “I didn’t either!” shouted Jake.

  “True. Bubbie wrote the note, then Aunt Bea got the note at the dinner table. When she left to call her lawyer, Isaac stole the note immediately. Isaac and I read the note out loud in the pantry closet, and Isaac ate the note right after.”

  “Yum!”

  “But,” Hannah said, “Drake was the one who came to fetch us from the pantry to bring us back to dinner. He heard us talking about rat poison through the door.”

  Drake shook his head. “If I had the most to gain from tonight, then why would I poison my mother? After all, if I got caught, I would never see any money!”

  “This was because of something Aunt Bea said,” Hannah explained. “She gave Blake and Jake until midnight to prove that they were trustworthy—and that their brother was the liar. If either of them had any proof at all, you could kiss your new fortune goodbye. So you decided to act like both your brothers while pouring the poison, knowing that we wouldn’t
know for sure if you were Blake or Jake.”

  Isaac’s face lit up. “Oh yeah! You had a huge smile, like Blake. But you were burping and talking about how full you are, like Jake would.”

  “Exactly!” She nodded at her brother. “Drake was never going to poison you, Aunt Bea. He purposely got caught with the poison, pretending to be his brothers, so that you wouldn’t know who to trust, and so you’d stick to the plan of giving him the whole inheritance at midnight.”

  Drake glared at her with molten-hot hatred.

  Aunt Bea’s jaw was slack. She stared between her three sons, and a little panicked hiccup escaped her throat. “I . . . Jake! Protect me!”

  Jake shielded his mother from the other two.

  “You’ve poisoned my mother against me!” Blake cried.

  “What an odd choice of words,” Bubbie said, as Blake turned on his heels and ran. But he flew right into the arms of the police, struggling and howling as they dragged him into their car.

  Bubbie pulled the cell phone out of her pocket. “I dialed them ten minutes ago, when you first revealed Blake.”

  Drake gave himself up to the police without a fight.

  By the time Aunt Bea’s lawyer arrived, Hannah and Isaac were nearly falling asleep. Jake received Aunt Bea’s total inheritance, having neither poisoned his mother nor tried to frame his brothers for poisoning. At least there was one good brother.

  On the way out, Hannah and Isaac linked arms with Bubbie. Even after Bubbie saved Aunt Bea’s life, Bubbie didn’t get their mother’s necklace or the cottage. She didn’t even get her pop-pop’s silver goblet. But, in the end, Bubbie didn’t need it. She had a relationship with her sister again, and she had sweet, nonmurderous grandchildren.

  Family is better than fortune, and her cup runneth over.

  Solution for The Haunted Typewriter

  “Are you mad that we figured out it was you?” said Kevin, turning toward the person responsible.

  All eyes turned toward the person Kevin was looking at.

  Tara wasn’t sure why the other two people in the room were surprised. They all had the same information she and Kevin had. They had all the information they needed to solve three mysteries: