Case Closed #1

by Lauren Magaziner

  “I guess the universe is telling me to believe Maddock,” Guinevere says. “Good-bye.”

  Eliza steps forward “But what about the—”

  “You cannot argue with fate,” Guinevere insists. “Now scram!”

  I scowl. “But—”

  “AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!” Guinevere howls at the top of her lungs. She thrashes her legs and arms like a kid throwing a temper tantrum. She’s even putting Frank’s fits to shame.

  “AAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!”

  Her screaming is so loud that it rattles around in my brain, and we run from her house, hands held over our ears.

  As luck would have it, I guess I don’t have any when it comes to fate-deciding coin tosses.

  CASE CLOSED.

  WE WAIT.

  And wait.

  And wait and wait and wait.

  We hold our breath.

  Frank squirms.

  Eliza freezes.

  I listen.

  And after what feels like F-O-R-E-V-E-R, I hear the door to Ivy’s room open and shut again. She’s gone!

  We open the closet door and spill out.

  “That was close!” Eliza says. “Too close!”

  “It’s her! She’s guilty, right?”

  “GUILTY GUILTY GUILTY!” Frank sings.

  Eliza hums and scrunches her brow. “I don’t know. She has motive, but it doesn’t necessarily mean she committed the crime.” Eliza whistles low. “As far as I see it, we have two options. We could keep this information to ourselves while we investigate further.”

  “Or?” I say.

  “Or we could tell Guinevere LeCavalier right now.”

  I breathe in deeply. I don’t know what to do, but Mom’s face pops into my head. For her sake, I hope we make the right decision!

  * * *

  TO TELL GUINEVERE, CLICK HERE.

  TO KEEP THIS INFORMATION A SECRET FOR NOW, CLICK HERE.

  * * *

  “THE GREEN DOOR!” Eliza, Frank, and I say at the same time.

  I look at Frank with my jaw dropped. “Did you really just solve a logic puzzle?” Maybe he’s more like Eliza than I thought.

  Frank grins. “No, green is my favorite color.”

  I snort.

  “Really, though,” Eliza says. “The green door works. It makes the first sentence true and all the others false. None of the other doors allow for one true statement and three false ones.”

  We open the green door and hop through. We follow a rickety wood-plank bridge that sways high above the alligator pit. Really high up.

  “Don’t look down,” I say gently.

  “Too late.” Eliza gulps.

  We walk slowly. I try to forget about the alligators below, ready to take a chomp out of us.

  In front of us, the end of the bridge is in sight—

  Creeeeaaaaaaak.

  The rope rustles and the wood beneath our feet groans as someone jumps onto the bridge ahead of us. Otto! He’s carrying a bulky treasure chest in his arms. My heart sinks—he got to the treasure before us.

  “Get out of my way, kids!” Otto growls. Then he runs toward us.

  * * *

  TO JUMP OUT OF THE WAY, CLICK HERE.

  TO BLOCK THE PATH ACROSS THE BRIDGE, CLICK HERE.

  * * *

  I LOOK AT the chart and scratch my head with the pencil’s eraser.

  Color: 1, 4, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 14, 17, 20, 21, 24, 27, 30, 31, 34, 37, 40, 41, 42, 43, 44, 45, 47, 48, 49, 50, 54, 60, 64, 70, 74, 80, 84, 90, 94, 100.

  “What do we do with this?” I ask.

  Eliza hums and talks through the puzzle out loud. She’s always doing that. “We have to color in the squares they’re telling us to color. So we should color the square marked one. Then the square marked four. Then seven. When we’re done, I bet the colored squares will reveal a message.”

  * * *

  ADD ONE HUNDRED TO THE ANSWER OF THE PUZZLE.

  IF YOU THINK THE ANSWER IS 149, CLICK HERE.

  IF YOU THINK THE ANSWER IS 118, CLICK HERE.

  * * *

  “LET’S GO TO the right!” I say.

  Eliza smiles. “Well, right is right.”

  We follow the path to the right, and we run into a dirt room with a cement engraving on the ground. Another puzzle.

  The electric candles on the wall flicker dramatically as we all stand over the engraved puzzle and the bronze plaque right next to it.

  * * *

  DEAREST IVY,

  REMEMBER TO THINK OUTSIDE THE BOX. NOW, HOW MANY RECTANGLES DO YOU SEE?

  * * *

  It’s weird. There are no doors in the room, and no paths except the one we came from.

  “We have to find the solution to advance,” Eliza says, answering the question I didn’t ask.

  We all stare at the rectangles. How many are there? I think.

  * * *

  ADD FIFTY TO THE SOLUTION OF THIS PUZZLE.

  IF YOU THINK THE ANSWER IS 60, CLICK HERE.

  IF YOU THINK THE ANSWER IS 56, CLICK HERE.

  TO ASK ELIZA FOR HELP, CLICK HERE.

  * * *

  I DECIDE WE should sneak into Patty’s place. But we have to wait until she leaves her house, so we sit on the curb and keep watch.

  It’s disgustingly hot as we keep a lookout. I feel like I’m sitting inside a dog’s mouth.

  We watch Patty’s house for the rest of the afternoon, but she never leaves. We agree to come back and try again first thing tomorrow morning. After all, Patty has to leave her house sometime.

  When I get home, I bring my mom a tray with cold water, medicine, and soup I warmed up in the microwave.

  “Carwos?” she whimpers.

  “Here, have some soup, Mom.”

  Mom looks at the tray, and her eyes well up with tears.

  Awww, she’s going to thank me!

  “ACHOOOOOOO!” She sneezes right into the soup.

  “Yuck! Snot soup!” I hand her a tissue.

  “Sowwy,” she sniffles. “And fank you! But next time, take de soup outta de can before you put it in de micwowave. Fire hazawd.”

  “Okay, Mom.”

  “You been pwaying wif Eliza and Fwank?”

  “Yup.” I nod. “And we have plans tomorrow, too.”

  “And de case? Did you caw Cowe?” She holds her nose like she’s bracing for another sneeze.

  “Oh. Yeah,” I lie. Usually she can see right through my lies. My gut clenches, and my face is hot with guilt. I hate lying to her. But I just have to remember that I’m helping her. I’m saving her agency and her career and her happiness and her whole life.

  That’s what my brain says, anyway. If only the guilty feeling in my stomach would listen.

  * * *

  Day Two

  * * *

  BRIGHT AND EARLY, I meet Eliza and Frank around the corner. We have to get to the fancy neighborhood on the other side of town, but luckily it’s not terribly hot yet. As we walk, I recap what we know, which is:

  There is bad blood between Guinevere and her daughter, Ivy.

  Smythe has a reason to be mad at Guinevere, according to Patty.

  Patty says she didn’t send the threats.

  Guinevere says Patty did.

  So pretty much, we’ve got a nice solid ground of clues to work with . . . but no real direction. It’s like one person points to another person, who points to another, who points to another, until we’re stuck in this endless suspect circle.

  Our goal today is to turn that circle into an arrow. An arrow that points right at our most likely culprit.

  At last we walk into River Woods, and all is quiet. When we get to Patty’s house, her car is not in the driveway.

  Perfect!

  But the doors are sure to be locked. So how do we find a way in?

  “Hey! Look at me!” Frank calls, his voice muffled.

  I whip around. Frank’s body is half inside a dog door. The door is way too small for Eliza and me. But Frank—he might just be the perfect si
ze!

  “Frank!” I say. “Can you fit?”

  “OF COURSE! I’m small.” He wiggles inside. Then he opens the door for Eliza and me.

  “Frank!” Eliza cries, kissing him on the forehead. “You’re a genius.”

  “No, I’m smart,” Frank says.

  I close the door behind us and look around. We’re in Patty’s kitchen.

  “There are hundreds of rooms,” I say to Eliza. “Where do we start?”

  “Well, where would you hide something in your house?”

  I mean, my house is like an eighth of the size of Patty’s. But if I had all the rooms she had, where would I hide something?

  “Maybe the basement?” I suggest. “Or the garage.”

  Eliza hums thoughtfully. “And I’m thinking that her office might have some important information. Frank and I aren’t supposed to go in Dad’s office because he’s afraid we’ll mess up his documents.”

  Frank nods. “NOT. ALLOWED.”

  Eliza jerks her head toward Frank in a way that tells me that their dad is way more afraid that Frank, not Eliza, would mess up his files.

  “Her room!” Frank says. “I hide everything under my bed. That way, under-the-bed monsters can protect all my stuff.”

  “Or maybe there’s a clue in her nightstand or closet!” Eliza says excitedly.

  “NOOOOOooooooooOOOOOO! UNDER-THE-BED MONSTERS!”

  We have too many places to search, and I realize we need to split up. “One of us should search the garage and basement. The other should take the office and bedroom.”

  “And Frank?” Frank says.

  “Frank should play with the dogs,” Eliza says.

  “WAHOO!”

  “So, which rooms do you want, Carlos?”

  * * *

  TO SEARCH PATTY’S GARAGE AND BASEMENT, CLICK HERE.

  TO SEARCH PATTY’S OFFICE AND BEDROOM, CLICK HERE.

  * * *

  WE HAVE TO go confront Smythe.

  We sneak out the back door of Patty’s house, creep across her property, and cross the street to Guinevere’s lawn. The sun is beating down, and I’m sweating, partly from the heat and partly from excitement. For the first time since taking this case, I finally feel like we’re on to something with this Smythe thing. We might be able to figure out why he’s so sulky, and then we’ll be that much closer to solving the case for my mom. Good-bye, sweaty sheets, and hellooooo, air-conditioning—

  “Hey, kids!” Otto says, popping out from behind a tree like an overeager squirrel.

  Eliza and I stop immediately, but Frank runs smack into his legs before bouncing back.

  “OUCH!” Frank says, poking his boo-boos.

  “How’s it going?” Otto asks. “What’s happening with the case? Anything exciting?”

  I sigh. We do not have time for this right now.

  “Move aside, Otto!” I say. “We’re on an important mission!”

  His enormous grin slides off his face into a disappointed frown. He silently steps aside.

  Inside Guinevere’s house, we find Smythe polishing the silver. But seeing him so busy gives me a better idea. While he’s distracted, we could sneak into his room! If we snoop around while he’s working, we may be able to find clues uninterrupted.

  It takes us ten minutes to find Smythe’s room. But eventually we come across a plain wooden door with a tiny nameplate that reads SAMUEL S. SMYTHE.

  “That’s it!” I whisper.

  When I open the door, it creaks, and we tiptoe inside. . . .

  Smythe’s room is dirty. Disgustingly dirty. There are clothes all over the floor, and all the drawers are open, and papers are everywhere. For someone whose job is to clean up after Guinevere, he sure is messy.

  “Check every paper,” Eliza says. “We’re looking for some sort of written confession from Smythe. Or a letter from Patty that proves they’re working together.”

  I read paper after paper, but none are interesting. Eliza’s reading too. Frank is jumping on Smythe’s bed because he’s still learning to read.

  Eliza starts digging through the papers on Smythe’s desk. And after a quick moment, she cries, “I found something!”

  She hands me a letter:

  Dear Father,

  I swear I’m going to quit this horrible job. She treats me like garbage, and I haven’t gotten a pay raise in ten years. She’s been telling me I’ll be promoted soon. It’s always “soon” with her, but “soon” never comes! Do you know what happened the last time I asked Guinevere for a pay raise? She said they didn’t have the funds right now. What lies! I know for a fact she has a treasure buried somewhere in her

  The letter cuts off.

  “Why did it stop?” I ask.

  “Because he’s not finished with it yet. But Carlos! Do you know what this means?”

  “Smythe is mad at Guinevere!”

  “Yes, he has a reason to send the threats. But also,” she says, “he has a motive for wanting the treasure! He hasn’t gotten a pay raise! He wants and needs the money—”

  CRASH!

  “AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!” comes the sound of a spine-prickling shriek from the other room.

  * * *

  RUN TO THE SCREAM! CLICK HERE.

  * * *

  ELIZA AND FRANK and I link arms. We’re an unbreakable chain. We’ll never let Otto through, no matter what.

  “RED ROVER, RED ROVER, SEND MR. OTTO MEANYPANTS OVER!” Frank sings.

  “We’re not letting you leave with the treasure chest,” I say, more bravely than I feel.

  “You can have the chest,” Otto says, laughing nervously. He sets the treasure chest on the ground and kneels over it. “I’ll just take what’s inside.”

  He looks down at the treasure chest. He’s distracted by the treasure and isn’t looking at me. I could attack him. But is it too dangerous?

  After all, he’s much stronger than Eliza, Frank, and me—and I don’t want any of us to get hurt.

  * * *

  TO ATTACK OTTO, CLICK HERE.

  TO STAY PUT, CLICK HERE.

  * * *

  KNOCK.

  KNOCK.

  KNOCK.

  KNOCK.

  KNOCK.

  KNOCK.

  KNOCK.

  KNOCK. KNOCK.

  “Who’s there?”

  “The detectives!”

  “The detectives who?”

  “YOU hired us!” I shout. “Remember?”

  Guinevere opens the door. She’s standing there in her nightgown.

  “The detectives who?” she says again.

  “What?”

  “You’re no detectives of MINE!” she bellows. “While you’ve been in here playing hide-and-go-seek, my treasure has been stolen! You’re fired!”

  CASE CLOSED.

  “I’M WONDERING WHO might do something like this. Have you ever been threatened before?”

  “Once. A long, long time ago. My husband’s first wife was very upset, and she used to send threats. And she even got her son—my husband’s first child—to send some too. But that was more than twenty years ago.”

  “Do you have any enemies you’ve heard from recently?” Eliza asks.

  “Tons,” Guinevere says, waving her hand.

  Tons? How many enemies does Guinevere LeCavalier have?

  “Detectives, I don’t want to waste your time,” Guinevere says. “I know who did it.”

  “Wait, what?” I stand up and slam my hands on the table. “You know who did it? Why didn’t you say anything before?”

  “You didn’t ask.”

  Frank whinnies like an angry horse, and Eliza leans forward. “Well?” she demands. “Who is it?”

  “It was PATTY SCHNOZZLETON!”

  P. Schnozzleton! From the house across the street! I rub my chin. I don’t have any practice being a detective, but I’m sure that’s what a detective would do at a moment like this.

  Eliza jumps in, “And what makes you so sure it’s Patty Schnozzleton?”

/>   “She’s my sworn enemy, my archnemesis—”

  There’s a tinkering noise behind me, and I whip around. Frank is piling teacups one on top of the other, like a pyramid.

  “Frank!” Eliza hisses. “Sit down!”

  Frank shakes his head.

  “It’s okay, Frank. You just keep stacking,” I say. “So, about Patty . . .”

  “She and I used to be best friends, but then we had a huge fight. She lives in this neighborhood. I know it was her, and I need you to find the proof—”

  CRASH!

  Broken teacup pieces are all over the floor.

  “Oops!” Frank says.

  “Frank!” Eliza groans.

  “Smythe!” Guinevere calls. “Clean this mess!”

  Smythe bursts into the dining room. “Extra work,” he grumbles under his breath. He sweeps the broken teacup pieces into a dustpan. “Horrible children,” he mutters.

  “Hey!” I say.

  Smythe glares at me. He looks like he could kill me with an eyelash, so I shut my mouth.

  “Smythe!” Guinevere says. “Prepare my footbath! I need you to rub my bunions.”

  “Ewwwwwwwww,” Frank says. “I hate onions!”

  “Bunions,” Eliza corrects, but from the look on her face, I can tell she doesn’t know what they are. I don’t either. But if they involve footbaths, I don’t want to know.

  When Smythe marches out of the room, I turn back to Guinevere. “What was your fight with Patty about?”

  Guinevere frowns and sips her tea. “Patty and I used to be best friends. We did everything together. Including the local Fancy Club. Patty and I worked really hard on the Dodo Bird Unextinction and Repopulation Benefit Ball, and it was a huge success. I did sooooo much work, but Patty told everyone that I didn’t help her on the project at all. At the end of the year, she got the Most Influential Millionaire of the Year Award. Just her. Not me. I deserved that award!”