Aven Green Sleuthing Machine

by Dusti Bowling

  I watched Grandma slice some banana bread in the kitchen while I sat on the couch pondering the pertinent information I had so far:

  King Smith of Kansas City had never run away before.

  Grandma didn’t know why he would run away.

  Grandma only had banana bread for dessert, which was not the best.

  I needed to remind Grandma to buy some mint chocolate chip ice cream.

  Grandma set the banana bread on the coffee table and sat back down. I wiped my feet with a baby butt wipe then grabbed a chunk of banana bread with my toes and popped it into my mouth. There was still plenty for Smitty.

  “Now,” I said through my bite, then swallowed. “Did you hear anything weird before King Smith of Kansas City disappeared?”

  “Like what, honey?” she asked.

  “Like a loud roar or a person saying ‘Here, doggy-doggy’ or a very loud siren?” I didn’t bother asking Grandma if she saw anything because her glasses were as thick as the banana bread she had just sliced.

  Grandma shook her head. “Nope. Nothing like that.”

  I nodded thoughtfully. “That’s good.”

  “Why is it good?”

  “Because now we know that he wasn’t eaten by a roaring predator or dognapped or sucked up by a tornado.”

  Grandma smiled. “That is good.” Then her big old eyes got even bigger. “Maybe it was the government,” she whispered.

  I nodded. “I think that is a very good hypothesis.”

  Suddenly there was a loud engine sound outside. I jumped up and looked out the little trailer window. “Who’s that?” I asked about the man riding around on a great big lawnmower near Grandma’s yard. Grandma sighed. “Oh, that’s Ralph. He just moved in next door.”

  “Has he been riding around on that lawnmower a lot?”

  Grandma gasped. “Oh yes, he has. Do you think that scared Smitty away?”

  Actually, I was just thinking that riding around on a lawnmower was probably lots of fun, and I was hoping he might let me drive it. But what Grandma said was much better.

  I turned to her. “I think it is very likely.”

  Chapter 7

  Fresh Dog Hair

  I got the fingerprint powder and duster out of my P.I. kit. One day my mom dropped her face powder on the bathroom floor and it busted all up into little pieces and she said a word I’m totally not allowed to ever say. So she let me use it for my fingerprint powder.

  “Where did you last see him?” I asked Grandma as I dusted the doggy door. It’s always important to ask where someone was last seen. For example, if they were last seen in a kitchen eating a bowl of spaghetti, then we might be looking for a trail of noodles. Or if they were last seen in a swimming pool, then we might be looking for water puddles and a wet person.

  “He ran out of here to go relieve himself and never came back.”

  I dropped the duster from my toes and stood up. “We’d better head outside then, if that really was the last place he was seen.”

  “Well, I guess I didn’t actually see him out there. I just saw him go out.”

  I pondered this information. “I think since you saw him go outside, we can assume that’s where he went, even if you never saw him out there. Is there anywhere else he could go on the other side of this door besides outside?” This case was getting complicated.

  Grandma shook her head. “No. No, I don’t believe so.”

  “Okay, good.” I footed the duster to Grandma so she could carry it outside for me, and we headed to where King Smith of Kansas City was last assumed to be, which was on the other side of the doggy door.

  I immediately found more evidence in the form of dog prints on the porch. I dusted them.

  “Do you really need to dust them, honey?” Grandma asked. “I mean, we can see the prints already.”

  “I am always thorough,” I told her, even though what I really wanted to say was Don’t tell me how to do my job, lady, which I would never say because I had respect for extra-old people. And regular old people. And all kinds of grown-ups.

  “I can really see where they’re headed now,” I said as I stood back up. “Let’s follow them.”

  Unfortunately the prints ended when the porch did, but I kept going in the direction I thought they were headed, which was to Grandma’s next-door neighbor Lou-Ann.

  On our way over there, I saw something suspicious on the ground, and I bent down to take a look at it. “Hand me my magnifying glass, please,” I said to Grandma, and she did as ordered.

  I held it between my toes as I studied the hair on the ground. “Yep. Just as I suspected—dog hair. I believe we’re on the right track.”

  “But couldn’t that hair be from anytime?”

  “No, it looks fresh.”

  “How can you tell that, honey?”

  “Just trust me. I’m a dog hair expert. Please give me my special pen.” Grandma once more did as ordered. My special pen was just the greatest gift I’d ever gotten in my whole life—it had a secret recorder on it. Emily had given it to me for my birthday.

  The only problem was that it was really hard for me to turn it on because the buttons were tiny and obviously made for small fingers and not fat toes. And Grandma couldn’t turn it on because she kept pushing the wrong buttons. But if we had been able to turn it on, I would have recorded my finding about the prints and the dog hair.

  Chapter 8

  Alleged Poop

  We headed to Lou-Ann’s house, and Grandma knocked on the front door. As soon as Lou-Ann opened the door, her face lit up. I had that effect on people. “Hello, Aven,” Lou-Ann said. “What a nice surprise.”

  I gave her a serious look for this serious situation. There wasn’t time for a bunch of chitchat. “Please take this pen and record our conversation,” I said to her. She took the pen from me, but looked all confused. “It’s a super high-tech spy pen,” I explained. “You have to push the record button.”

  She did as told, and I dove into my questioning. “Lou-Ann . . . ” I realized I didn’t know her full name. “Lou-Ann of Cedar Springs Trailer Park, next-door neighbor to Great-Grandma Mabel Jackson, when was the last time you saw King Smith of Kansas City?”

  “Oh, why? Is he missing?” Lou-Ann asked.

  “Please just answer the question,” I said. “The pen only records for like one minute.” I tapped my foot on the front porch. “We’ve already wasted like half of that.”

  Lou-Ann scratched at her short curly hair. I sighed. More time-wasting. “I think I saw him yesterday.”

  “Where was that?”

  “Out in the yard. He did his business—”

  “You mean the business of pooping?” I asked. It’s always important to be completely clear when investigating. Who knows what kind of business a dog might do? Digging, running around in circles, squirrel chasing, and barking were all dog business.

  She nodded. “Yes. He relieved himself.”

  “Where is this alleged poop?” I asked. It’s important to use the word alleged a lot when investigating. I think it means something might be pretend.

  Grandma frowned. “I don’t think that’s probably important, Aven.”

  “You never know what might be important until you find it,” I told her, and I thought that was a really smart thing to say, but unfortunately the pen had run out of recording room.

  Lou-Ann walked us over to where she thought she’d seen King Smith of Kansas City poop, but I didn’t think her memory was so good because there was no poop there. We walked around in circles until we found what looked like an approximately day-old poop.

  I asked Grandma to open my P.I. kit. I removed my compass. I imagined a line from Grandma’s front porch to the poop and adjusted my compass on the grass with my toes to see what direction that line headed in. “Hmm.” I said. “I believe King Smith of Kansas City was heading south.”

  We walked that way, and every now and then I would use my magnifying glass to check for hair and prints. “I found one!” I said, po
inting my foot at the dog print in the middle of the field behind Grandma’s trailer. I dug around in my P.I. kit and took out a small yellow flag. Lou-Ann stuck it in the ground for me, and once more I took out my compass, which showed us we were still moving south.

  We kept walking until we hit the street on the other side of the field. I looked all around, but we didn’t see anything else—no more paw prints or hair or anything. We had walked so far that I could see my school down the road. “Bummer,” I mumbled.

  “It’s okay, honey,” Grandma said sadly while Lou-Ann patted her on the back.

  But it most certainly was not okay. I had to find Smitty, and I had to find him soon. What if he was in danger? What if he was hungry? What if he needed to relieve himself and there was nowhere to do so? Would he explode?

  I felt like I might explode right then and there, so we had to say goodbye to Lou-Ann and head back to Grandma’s trailer. By the time I was done doing my business, Mom had returned.

  “Any luck?” she asked.

  “We found some prints and dog hair and poop, but no Smitty,” I told her.

  She frowned. “I’m sure he’ll turn up.”

  But what if he didn’t turn up? What if he turned down? I knew this would be the most important where mystery I ever had to solve: The Mystery of the Missing Smitty.

  Chapter 9

  Eyebrows

  There was another ruckus at school the next day when the food thief struck again. This time, the victim was Mr. Collins and the birthday cake the other teachers had brought in for him.

  Ms. Luna told us all about it. “You should see the mess!” she declared. “Strawberry cake everywhere. This wasn’t just about stealing cake. This was a deliberate disaster.”

  I nodded. “We have a real criminal on our hands. A food destroyer.”

  Ms. Luna put her hands on her hips. “I think you’re right, Aven. This person is quite a mischief maker.”

  “Can I go take a look in this alleged teacher’s lounge?” I asked. I was pretty sure the teacher’s lounge is alleged because I’d never even seen it before.

  Ms. Luna frowned. “Students really aren’t allowed in there.”

  “How on earth am I supposed to solve this case if I’m not even allowed at the crime scene?”

  “I think they’ve already cleaned it up,” Ms. Luna said. “So I’m not sure there would be much to investigate anyway.”

  “Of course they did.” I harumphed.“Amateurs.” An amateur is someone who does not know what they’re doing.

  I pondered the pertinent information I had so far about the school food thief:

  They had stolen Ms. Luna’s new lunch bag.

  They had stolen a bag of bread.

  They had stolen a whole birthday cake.

  They were very, very messy.

  Robert was giving me the stink eye, so he was still a suspect. But he was also a student, which meant he wasn’t allowed in the alleged teacher’s lounge. This case was getting complicated.

  I was surrounded by amateurs.

  My brain already needed a break from this case, and I couldn’t wait for my sleepover with Emily and Kayla.

  Just then, a woman walked into the classroom with a girl. The girl had long dark hair pulled back in a braid and wore a beautiful pink dress. Ms. Luna smiled and announced, “Class, this is Sujata. She’s joining us for the rest of the school year. Isn’t that great? Say welcome to Sujata.”

  “Welcome, Sujata!” I shouted, and I felt like I said it the most enthusiastically of everyone in the whole class. Sujata looked up at me, smiled a little, then looked back down at her pink shoes. Then Ms. Luna led her to an empty desk, and she sat down and all the excitement was already over.

  I looked over at Emily and smiled. She raised her unibrow and smiled. Then she lifted up her backpack and patted it, and I thought, Yes, I know you have your sleepover stuff in your backpack. Then she opened it and pulled out a stuffed koala bear. She waggled her unibrow at me. I waggled my eyebrows back and thought, Yes, I know we’re going to play stuffy salon.

  Then I looked at Kayla and she narrowed her eyebrows at me and made a chopping motion with her hand. I narrowed my eyebrows right back at her and thought, Yes, I know we’re going to have a Ninja competition. The three of us had a whole conversation with almost just our eyebrows. That’s how good friends we were.

  Then I looked over at the new girl, Sujata, and saw that she was watching us. Then she looked away really quickly. And I noticed that her eyebrows looked really, really sad, but I didn’t know why. I thought maybe I should work on solving The Mystery of the New Girl Sujata’s Sad Eyebrows. Then again, I was overwhelmed with cases at the moment.

  Chapter 10

  Rainbow Barf

  “We’re going on a sleepover! We’re going on a sleepover!” Emily, Kayla, and I sang on the bus after school. We were beautiful singers, even if Emily got a little shrieky at times.

  The bus dropped us off in front of my house, and we ran inside. “After-school snack! After-school snack!” we sang, because after-school snacks were the most delicious of all foods.

  “Goodness,” Mom said. “Go right ahead. Just nothing too sugary.” Then she left the room to fold laundry.

  We pulled out a container of mint chocolate ice cream and mixed in a bag of gummy bears and sprayed some whipped cream on top. Because “nothing too sugary” is a matter of opinion. But we were only able to eat about half of it before Emily barfed. What a lightweight. A lightweight is someone with a wimpy stomach.

  Mom ran into the kitchen, saw our snack all over the kitchen table and the rainbow barf all over the floor, and gave me an angry look. “But nothing too sugary is a matter of opinion,” I mumbled.

  “Ninja hand chop!” Kayla shouted, bringing her hand down on the stack of pillows in the middle of my bedroom.

  “Ninja chin chop!” I cried, smashing my face against the pillows.

  “Ninja elbow chop!” Emily elbowed the pillows, but not nearly as well as I chinned them. Plus she ripped a huge one, and Kayla and I couldn’t stop laughing. “You guys, it’s not funny! My stomach still feels gross.”

  “Ninja foot chop!” Kayla said, kicking the pillows across the room so we had to restack them.

  “Ninja butt chop!” I hollered, jumping up and coming down hard on the stack on my butt. Then I toppled over onto the carpet, because it’s harder to keep your balance without arms.

  “Boy, I’m tired,” Emily said, wiping the sweat from her forehead. “I don’t think I can do another chop.”

  “Me too,” I said, still lying with my face in the carpet.

  “Sooooo?” Kayla said.

  Now was the tough part—deciding who won the Ninja competition. We took it very seriously. Emily broke out the whiteboard and marker. Then she wrote our names at the top and made three columns. “Ten points for my elbow chop,” she said, all braggy. Like it’s so impressive that she has elbows.

  “Ten points for my hand chop,” Kayla said, and I had to roll my eyes.

  “Ten thousand points for my chin chop,” I said, but they scrunched up their noses at me, so I said, “Fine. Fifteen points.”

  “Fine then,” Emily said. “Five bonus points for my toot.”

  “Why?” Kayla asked.

  Emily squinted at her. “Distraction.”

  I actually thought Emily could’ve given herself at least ten bonus points for that, but I didn’t say anything. Because I wanted to win, of course!

  “Ten points for my foot chop,” Kayla said.

  “Minus five points for messing up the pillows,” Emily said.

  “One million points for my butt chop!” I cried.

  She wrote the points down. Then she said, “Minus one million points for falling off the pillows during your butt chop.”

  I shrugged. She was always fair. We added up the points. It was a tie. I jumped up from the floor. “Good competition. Let’s get some lemonade.”

  But Mom would only let us drink lemonade without
sugar, which is really just lemon water, because she said we didn’t need any more sugar. But that was really just her opinion.

  Chapter 11

  Robot Chickens

  The next thing we did was paint our toenails. Emily chose a boring pink and Kayla chose silver, but I painted mine a beautiful sparkly purple.

  “How do you like that new girl, Sujata?” I asked them while we painted our toenails.

  Emily shrugged. “I don’t know. She seems nice, I guess. I liked her pink dress.”

  “She has really long hair,” Kayla said.

  “She looked sad in class today,” I said. “I wonder why.”

  “Maybe her hen droids are acting up,” Emily said.

  I frowned. “What’s that mean?”

  She shrugged. “I don’t know. But whenever my grandpa looks sad, and I ask him about it, he tells me his hen droids are acting up.”

  “Hen droids?” I said. “Sounds like something from Star Wars—like chicken robots.”

  Kayla’s eyes got huge. “Oh my gosh! Does your grandpa have chicken robots?”

  “I don’t know,” Emily said, but I could tell she was as excited as we were at the thought.

  “You should definitely ask him to explain exactly what his hen droids are next time you see him,” I said.

  This was a very interesting what mystery: The Mystery of Emily’s Grandpa’s Hen Droids.

  Then we did another Ninja competition because we needed a tiebreaker, of course. But we smeared our nails everywhere and Mom had to change all the pillowcases. And she sighed a lot. And our nails were ruined.

  We were already totally pooped by the time we sat down for dinner. Dad came in from work and kissed Mom’s cheek. Then he looked down into the pot she was mixing and frowned, though I don’t know why because boxed macaroni and cheese is the best dinner of all time!