Hildy denied it at first, but I waved her protests away. “You were there when Reginald found the key,” I said. “I’m guessing that it wasn’t an accident—because you placed it there.”
Hildy grinned slightly.
“And it was your idea to hire me,” I continued. “Then there was the secret staircase that led from your closet into the attic. I bet you’ve known about it for a while. The flashlight in your room gave that away.”
Hildy didn’t bother denying it.
“Then there was the tarp that covered the chest,” I added. “If it had been there for years, there wouldn’t have been any dust under it. But there was. That means you put the tarp on recently, probably just to make the mystery more difficult.”
“More fun,” Hildy corrected. “I made it more fun—for Reginald and for you.”
“True,” I agreed. “I enjoy a challenge.”
“And the stamp,” Mila added. “Only you could have known which stamp would have made Reginald so happy.”
Hildy gave a sly grin. “He is happy, isn’t he?”
She glanced toward the stairs. We heard footsteps coming closer. “He’s been so lonely since we moved here,” she confided. “I worry about my little brother. Me? I don’t have trouble making friends. But it’s hard for Reginald. He’s like a grown-up trapped in a boy’s body. Most kids don’t understand him.”
Mila smiled. “So you wanted to help him make new friends. Wow, what a great sister.”
“What a great friend,” I remarked.
“Here’s your hat, Jones!” Reginald shouted, tossing it across the room.
“Nice throw,” I commented, catching the hat with one hand.
My brother pulled up in the car. He tooted the horn softly. We turned to leave.
I stopped at the doorway. “Say, Reggie. You play ball?”
Reginald frowned. “I’m afraid I’m not very good.”
“That’s okay. Neither am I,” I lied. “Maybe I’ll call you sometime. We could get a few kids together for a game. What do you say?”
Reginald blinked a few times. He smiled again. “I’d love to play baseball. Thanks.”
We left, with Hildy and Reginald waving to us from the front door. I saw that Hildy’s arm was wrapped around her brother’s shoulder. She hugged him tightly.
“He’s not so bad after all,” I said to Mila. “I mean, once you get to know him.”
Mila agreed. “Who knows? Maybe he’ll make a few friends.”
“I hope so,” I said. “But no matter what, he’s already got one true friend: his sister, Hildy. That’s a pretty good start.”
“Yes.” Mila nodded. “One true friend.”
My brother tooted the car horn again.
“Let’s go, partner,” I said.
“Sure thing, Jigsaw,” Mila said with a grin.
“Hey, guys?” Reginald called out. “Come over anytime you want. We can watch a movie in my indoor theater!”
“Sounds great,” I said. “But promise me one thing.”
“Anything!” Reginald said.
“Promise you won’t try to make me eat anymore cucumber sandwiches!”
“It’s a deal,” answered Reginald Armitage III. He waved good-bye, smiling ear to ear.
Read on for a special sneak peek at a brand-new, never-before-published JIGSAW JONES MYSTERY:
The Case of the Hat Burglar
“Highly recommended.”—School Library Journal on Jigsaw Jones: The Case from Outer Space
It’s their toughest case yet … Will this be the first mystery Jigsaw Jones and Mila can’t solve?
Our Toughest Case
It reads “Theodore Jones” on my birth certificate. But, please, do me a favor. Don’t call me that. My real name is Jigsaw.
Jigsaw Jones.
The way I see it, people should be able to make up their own names. After all, we’re the ones who are stuck with them all our lives. Right? I get it. Our parents had to call us something when we were little—like “Biff” or “Rocko” or “Hey You!” But by age six, we should be allowed to name ourselves.
So I did. I took Jigsaw and tossed “Theodore” into the dumpster. These days, only two people call me Theodore. My mother, when she’s unhappy. And my classmate Bobby Solofsky, when he wants to be annoying. Which is pretty much all the time. Bobby is a pain in my neck. Let me put it this way. Have you ever stepped on a Lego with your bare feet? There you are, cozy and sleepy, shuffling down the hallway in your pajamas, when suddenly—YOWZA!—you feel a stabbing pain in your foot.
What happened?
The Lego happened, that’s what.
In my world, that Lego is named Bobby Solofsky.
And I’m the foot that stepped on it.
So, please, call me Jigsaw. After all, it’s the name on the card.
Mila is my partner and my best friend on the planet. I trust her 100 percent. Together, we make a pretty good team. We solve mysteries: lost bicycles, creepy scarecrows, surprise visitors from outer space, you name it. Put a dollar in our pockets, and we’ll solve the case. Sometimes we do it for free.
But the Hat Burglar had us stumped.
We were baffled, bewildered, and bamboozled. There was a thief in our school, and I couldn’t catch him. Or her. Because you never know about thieves. It could be anybody—he, she, or even it. That’s true. It happens. We once caught a ferret red-handed. Or red-footed. Or red-pawed. Whatever! Point is, the ferret did it. But in this case, no matter what Mila and I tried, nothing worked. The mystery stayed a mystery. It was our toughest case yet. And by the end, the solution very nearly broke my heart.
But let me back up a bit. It all began last week, on a frosty Tuesday afternoon …
Frozen
It was the coldest day of the year. Three degrees below zero. In other words, it felt like the planet Hoth from Star Wars. Or Canada, maybe. Even worse, there wasn’t a single snowflake on the ground. Just cold wind and frozen skies. It was so nasty my dog, Rags, didn’t want to go outside. And Rags lives for going outside. That morning, he stood by the open door, cold wind blasting his nose, and whined. “Sorry, Rags,” my father insisted. “I don’t like it any more than you do. But we gotta go.”
Rags put on the brakes.
Eventually, my father talked Rags into it. I think he promised a treat. Looking outside, I felt the same way. I didn’t want to leave my toasty house, either. But when my mother said, “Time for the bus, Jigsaw, no dillydallying,” I had no choice.
My mother lets me dilly. And she lets me dally. But I can never dillydally. That’s going too far. Not when there’s a bus to catch.
At the bus stop, several kids stood together like a bunch of Popsicles in a freezer. I knew that two of them were Mila and Joey Pignattano, but it was hard to tell who was who. Almost everyone was bundled in thick winter clothes, hats pulled down to their eyeballs. “Murfle, murfle,” somebody mumbled to me through a wool scarf. I murfled back.
The wind snarled as if it were a snaggletoothed wolf.
Once the bus dropped us at school, we headed for our classrooms. Geetha Nair walked into room 201, dressed in a long colorful scarf wrapped around (and around!) her neck and face. The only part of her head that showed through were two round, chocolate-brown eyes.
Helen Zuckerman burst through the door. “I can’t feel my nose,” she announced. “It’s frozen solid. I could snap it off like an icicle.”
Joey poked Helen’s nose with a finger. “Yipes, you’re right, Helen. It’s colder than ice cream.”
Bigs Maloney, in contrast, strolled in wearing shorts and a long-sleeve shirt. “No coat, Bigs?” Ms. Gleason asked.
“It’s in my backpack,” he explained. “Just in case.”
“Bigs, it’s below zero outside. When are you going to put on a pair of long pants?” Helen wondered.
The big lug shrugged. “I like shorts better. They let my knees breathe.”
“I wish it would snow,” curly haired Lucy Hiller muttered. “I don�
�t mind the cold if there’s snow. Then we could go sledding … or build snow forts … or—”
“Make snow pies!” Joey cried.
“What?” Mila swung her backpack around with one hand. It landed softly at the bottom of her cubby. “Seriously, Joey. Snow pies?”
“Yes,” Joey replied. “Snow pies are delicious. Only one ingredient: fresh, white, delicious snow. Yum!”
Stringbean Noonan gasped and pointed at Mila’s hands. “Look, it’s so cold your fingers turned purple!”
Mila laughed. She wiggled her fingers. “It’s only nail polish, Stringbean. I had them done at the mall with Geetha and my stepmom this weekend.”
“Phew!” said Stringbean. He seemed relieved.
Athena Lorenzo staggered into the room. “My hair. It was wet when I left my house. Now it’s frozen solid!”
“Oh, Athena. Don’t you have a hat?” Ms. Gleason asked.
“I used to,” Athena said. “I think I lost it in school yesterday.”
“Well, that’s a problem,” Ms. Gleason said. “Hats keep heads warm. It’s important protection in this weather. Athena, do you know where we keep our Lost and Found?”
Athena shrugged. “I guess I lost that, too.”
Ms. Gleason looked at me. I gave her a nod to let her know that I knew. “Jigsaw, could you please accompany Athena to the Lost and Found?”
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Read more Jigsaw Jones Mysteries by James Preller
The Case from Outer Space—New!
The Case of the Hat Burglar—New!
The Case of the Smelly Sneaker
The Case of the Bicycle Bandit
The Case of the Glow-in-the-Dark Ghost
The Case of the Mummy Mystery
The Case of the Best Pet Ever
The Case of the Buried Treasure
The Case of the Disappearing Dinosaur
The Case of the Million-Dollar Mystery
The Case of the Bear Scare
The Case of the Haunted Scarecrow
The Case of the Vanishing Painting
About the Author
James Preller is the author of the popular Jigsaw Jones mystery books, which have sold more than 10 million copies since 1998. He is also the author of Bystander, named a 2009 Junior Library Guild Selection, Six Innings, an ALA Notable Book, and Mighty Casey, his own twist on the classic poem, “Casey at the Bat.” In addition to writing full-time, Preller plays in a men’s hardball league and coaches Little League. He compares coaching kids to “trying to hold the attention of a herd of earthworms.” He lives in Delmar, New York with his wife, three children, cats and dog. You can sign up for email updates here.
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Contents
Title Page
Copyright Notice
Dedication
Chapter 1 Reginald Pinkerton Armitage III
Chapter 2 Truce
Chapter 3 The Golden Key
Chapter 4 The Hat Project
Chapter 5 Busting the Code
Chapter 6 In the Attic
Chapter 7 A Secret Staircase
Chapter 8 Topper
Chapter 9 The Pieces Come Together
Chapter 10 A Real Friend
Read more Jigsaw Jones Mysteries by James Preller
About the Author
Copyright
A FEIWEL AND FRIENDS BOOK
An imprint of Macmillan Publishing Group, LLC
120 Broadway, New York, NY 10271
JIGSAW JONES: THE CASE OF THE GOLDEN KEY.
Copyright © 2002 by James Preller. All rights reserved.
Our books may be purchased in bulk for promotional, educational, or business use. Please contact your local bookseller or the Macmillan Corporate and Premium Sales Department at (800) 221-7945 ext. 5442 or by email at [email protected].
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data is available.
ISBN 978-1-250-20761-6 (paperback) / ISBN 978-1-250-20760-9 (ebook)
Illustrations by Jamie Smith
Feiwel and Friends logo designed by Filomena Tuosto
First Feiwel and Friends edition, 2019
Originally published by Scholastic in 2002
Art used with permission from Scholastic
eISBN 9781250207609
mackids.com
The Case of the Golden Key Page 3