The Missing Chancleta and Other Top-Secret Cases / La chancleta perdida y otros casos secretos

by Alidis Vicente

  THE MISSING CHANCLETA

  AND OTHER TOP-SECRET CASES

  By Alidis Vicente

  The Missing Chancleta and Other Top-Secret Cases is made possible through a grant from the City of Houston through the Houston Arts Alliance.

  Piñata Books are full of surprises!

  Piñata Books

  An imprint of

  Arte Público Press

  University of Houston

  4902 Gulf Fwy, Bldg 19, Rm 100

  Houston, Texas 77204-2004

  Cover design by Mora Des!gn

  Cover and inside illustrations by Leonardo Mora

  Vicente, Alidis.

  The missing chancleta and other top-secret cases / by Alidis Vincente ; Spanish translation by Gabriela Baeza Ventura = La chancleta perdida y otros casos secretos / por Alidis Vicente ; traducción al español de Gabriela Baeza Ventura.

  p. cm.

  Text in English with parallel Spanish translation.

  Summary: Second-grader Flaca investigates three mysteries, from her missing flip flop, to who put a food she is allergic to in her lunch, to how she will find her dancing ability before performing salsa at her sister’s quinceañera.

  ISBN 978-1-55885-779-7 (alk. paper)

  [1. Mystery and detective stories. 2. Lost and found possessions—Fiction. 3. Food allergy—Fiction. 4. Salsa (Dance)—Fiction. 5. Hispanic Americans—Fiction. 6. Spanish language materials--Bilingual.] I. Ventura, Gabriela Baeza, translator. II. Vicente, Alidis. Missing chancleta and other top-secret cases. III. Vicente, Alidis. Missing chancleta and other top-secret cases. Spanish. IV. Title.

  PZ73.A5766 2013

  [E]—dc23

  2013029355

  CIP

  The paper used in this publication meets the requirements of the American National Standard for Information Sciences—Permanence of Paper for Printed Library Materials, ANSI Z39.48-1984.

  The Missing Chancleta and Other Top-Secret Cases © 2013 by Alidis Vicente

  Printed in the United States of America

  October 2013–November 2013

  United Graphics, Inc., Mattoon, IL

  12 11 10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  From the Desk of Detective Flaca

  The Case of the Missing Chancleta

  The Case of the Deadly China

  The Case of the Lost Salsa

  This book is dedicated to Mateo, the newest

  rookie detective in the Vicente Squad.

  FROM THE DESK OF DETECTIVE FLACA

  * * *

  Dear Junior Detective,

  If you are reading this letter, it is because you are interested in reviewing some of my most top secret case files. Normally, I don’t allow civilians to read my confidential materials. But, since you are clearly trying to learn how to be a professional, flawless, observant detective, it only makes sense that you learn from the best … ME.

  All of the cases you are about to read are as real as I remember them and so are all of my successes. But please keep in mind that some of the names and dates may have been changed for privacy reasons. We detectives have to be very careful as to the kind of information we release to the public, and even though I trust you, I can’t trust you THAT much yet. So, I’m sure you’ll understand when I ask that you please sign the confidentiality agreement attached. It’s not a big deal or anything. I just have to make sure you’re not a criminal or spy. You’re not, right? Good. So, just sign the agreement and keep it handy in case we ever have to have a little chat.

  Carefully yours,

  I, ____________________________, do solemnly swear not to reveal any of Detective Flaca’s extra awesome detective methods to any villains, evil masterminds or criminals in training. I promise to use Detective Flaca’s totally confidential information solely for learning and creative purposes and will not criticize any of the characters (except maybe La Bruja). Lastly, I promise to read the whole book and look up any words I don’t understand in the dictionary so that one day I can be an even smarter and better detective than Detective Flaca, if that’s even humanly possible.

  Signed,

  _________________________________________

  Case #1

  Name: The Case of the Missing Chancleta

  Date: A long time ago

  Status: Closed

  They call me Flaca. DETECTIVE Flaca. I’m sort of a legend around these parts. I’ve done this job a long time. Too long. It’s impossible to remember all of my cases, but I’ll never forget the first one. I was seven years old. I’m eight now, so lots of time has passed.

  It was summer. Hot. Sticky. A perfect afternoon for a play date at my friend’s pool. There was just one problem. My chancleta was missing. I looked everywhere. It seemed hopeless, but I wouldn’t stop searching until my flip flop was on my foot!

  It’s important to prepare for investigations. I made sure my tools were ready. Pencil and notepad: In hand. Straw hat for disguise: On, but messy. The whole point of a detective hat is to help hide your face, but my hair was a problem. It was straight, limp, and kept falling onto my pale skin. I looked like a ghost with a stringy black wig and pava. At least I had freckles to hide my face. That counts as camouflage, right? Ready for combat: Oh yeah. Every good detective needs a magnifying glass, but I didn’t have one. An old pair of my Abuelo’s glasses would have to do. Grandpa’s glasses make everything look bigger. Magnifying glass: Check (sort of).

  Sitting on the couch, I called my family for interviews. Everyone was a suspect. They told me about the last time they’d seen my missing chancleta. I listened and took notes. Details are the key.

  First, I spoke to my father.

  “Where were you when you last saw the missing chancleta?” I asked.

  “Actually, I was sitting right here on the sofá. It was hot, and I saw your flip flops on the floor. I used one as a fan.”

  “So you stole it?” I asked.

  “No, I didn’t steal it! The fanning wasn’t working, so I stuck my head in the freezer. I dropped your chancleta on the kitchen floor.”

  My dad began to whisper. I knew it was top secret information.

  “Don’t tell your mother, but afterwards I saw her holding it in the kitchen!”

  I wanted to believe him, but you can’t always trust his information. He forgets EVERYTHING.

  “You’re free to go. Next!”

  My mother entered my office. I asked when she and the missing chancleta were last together.

  “Last night, I put dessert on the kitchen table, and el perro tried to eat it. The first thing I saw was your flip flop. I grabbed it to shoo the dog off the table and put it back on the floor. But you have plenty of chancletas, Flaca. Why don’t you wear a different pair?” she asked.

  “It’s DETECTIVE Flaca! Thanks for the advice, but flip flops don’t just disappear. Someone is responsible for this,” I explained.

  “Suit yourself,” she said. “I have to start dinner.”

  There was no need to question what was for dinner. Rice and beans. Again.

  I had my last interview with the number one suspect.

  “You may have a seat,” I told my sister.

  Interviewing her would be tricky. She likes trying to confuse me.

  “Tell me about your meeting with my chancleta.”

  “Nobody knows where your flip flop is, Flaca. Maybe El Cuco took it.”

  Just as I expected: trickery. Everybody knows the Boogey Man doesn’t exist, unless you’re a
witch like my sister, La Bruja, as I like to call her.

  “Or maybe YOU took it!” I exclaimed.

  “Yes, I did. The dog was trying to eat BOTH of your chancletas last night, so I put them in your room.”

  Turns out La Bruja wasn’t lying. My other flip flop had the dog’s teeth marks all over it. At first, I thought they were my sister’s teeth marks, but hers would’ve left bigger dents. There was only one thing to do. I had to examine the last place the chancleta had been seen: My room.

  I sat on the bed to look over my notes with Abuelo’s glasses. Everybody’s story made sense. Still, no flip flop.

  Just when I thought the case had frozen, I heard the buzz around town. Actually, it was the buzz in my ear. A mosquito! I sprang into action.

  It was an old fashioned bullfight. I was the matador and the mosquito was the bull. He charged at top speed, and I swatted him with my.… CHANCLETA! Then it all came back to me.

  The night before, I was trying to fall asleep when a mosquito bit me. I got up and used my chancleta as protection from the hungry pest. Once it landed on the wall … bull’s eye!

  That meant my flip flop was behind my night-stand!

  Of course, I was right. There it was. The missing chancleta was staring at me, waiting to be cleaned of the flying villain. I did a fine job taking another thief off the streets.

  The Case of the Missing Chancleta: Closed.

  Hundreds of cases have come and gone since then. Now I even use a pen to take notes, because I rarely make mistakes. There’s only one criminal I haven’t caught: The crook who stole my Tooth Fairy money.

  Case #55

  Name: The Case of the Deadly China

  Date: Unknown

  Status: Closed

  It was my favorite part of the school day. I stared at the brown paper bag that was holding my lunch hostage on the cafeteria table. I loved studying the bag, trying to figure out what was inside just by looking at the clues on the outside. What can I say? I’m a detective! It seemed like any ordinary lunch until I opened the bag and found the poison.

  There was a china in my lunch. To the average second-grader, an orange in their lunch wouldn’t seem like a big deal. But for me, seeing little pieces of china disguised in a fruit cup was beyond a big deal. It was a serious threat.

  A cold, tingling sensation raced down my spine as I realized what was going on. It was as obvious as a cookie on a plate of vegetables. Someone was trying to poison me. I felt my throat closing. I was suffocating at the thought of having taken a bite of that deadly china.

  Even though I was shocked by the situation, I had to admit the criminal’s methods were clever. Trying to poison me with an orange? Genius. This also pointed me in the right direction. Whoever was behind this crime, knew me well enough to know about my allergy to oranges. Had I not been such an observant, crafty private eye, a minor detail might have been overlooked. Luckily, being a detective isn’t what I do. It’s what I am.

  I needed to get home right away to launch a full investigation. Someone wanted to take me down. Their success was not an option. I had to do what every responsible student does when they need to go home during the school day.

  I told the lunch aid I had to go to the school nurse because of contact with a food allergen. I knew it would get me in with the nurse … fast. I rushed down the hall to Mrs. Caradura’s office. No one was there, as expected. Lunch is always the least busy time at the nurse’s office. Nobody wants to skip lunch, but a math test … that is worth getting sick over.

  I had to approach Mrs. Caradura very carefully. She is known for being a tough lady. She’s short and wide, with her mouth molded into a permanent frown. You can never fool her with fake symptoms, and she rarely sends anybody home. Most students call her mean. I like to consider her a worthy opponent.

  I walked into her office and sat down in the chair in front of her desk as she typed on the computer. She quickly glanced at me through the corner of her glasses while she continued her work.

  “Sick, Flaca? During your lunch period? This should be interesting,” she said, still typing.

  I stared at Mrs. Caradura, placed my fruit cup on the desk and pushed it over to her.

  “What is this supposed to mean?” she asked.

  It’s just like her to ask an open-ended question. I had to be sly with my answer.

  “I don’t know, Mrs. Caradura. You tell me. Check my health record.”

  “Flaca, I don’t have time for these games. Tell me what’s going on,” she demanded.

  Mrs. Caradura was being very bossy, probably because she didn’t have the skills to put the puzzle pieces together. I did it for her.

  “That is an assassination attempt. Someone is trying to poison me,” I said, pointing to the fruit cup.

  Mrs. Caradura stopped her work and took off her glasses. Now, we were looking at each other eye to eye.

  “First of all, Flaca, no one is trying to poison you with a fruit cup. On top of that, I’m afraid you don’t know the correct definition of ‘assassination.’ You are not a public figure or well-known person. So, even if someone were to poison you, it would not be defined as an ‘assassination attempt.’”

  Mrs. Caradura seemed satisfied with her answer, because her fingers began to dance on the keyboard again. She must have thought I didn’t expect that kind of response. She was wrong.

  “Actually, Mrs. Caradura, I am a public figure. In case you didn’t know, I am a detective in this town. There are tons of important cases that would have been unsolved without me. So, I can be assassinated. Even more importantly, I am allergic to oranges, which, as you can see, are all over this fruit cup. But, I guess you wouldn’t know about my allergy to oranges because you haven’t checked my chart.”

  Mrs. Caradura raised her eyebrows, folded her hands and sat quietly for a moment (which I’m sure was a first for her). Then she asked, “What exactly is it you want me to do for you, Flaca?”

  “I need you to call my mom and tell her to pick me up from school because I may have eaten a piece of an orange,” I said.

  “That would be a lie,” said Mrs. Caradura. “You haven’t eaten an orange. You are perfectly fine.”

  “But I could have eaten the orange. And if I leave here with this fruit cup, I may eat the orange. Sending me home is the safest thing to do. Besides, it will get me out of your office faster. Otherwise, I may have to stay here for observation. My throat’s feeling a little itchy,” I said.

  Gosh, I was good. Mrs. Caradura was cornered. It was now or never. I was about to kick my soccer ball into her goal, and there was nothing she could do about it.

  “I will call your mother and explain you would like to go home because you are concerned about the orange you found in your lunch bag. Go back to the cafeteria, and I will call you down to the office when she gets here.”

  GOOOOOOOOOAL! Now it was only a matter of time before I brought the person behind my assassination attempt to justice.

  As I walked out of the office, Mrs. Caradura stopped me.

  “I’ll do this under one condition,” she menaced from her desk.

  I turned around, prepared for negotiation.

  “You figure out who is trying to assassinate you and tell me their identity.”

  “Agreed,” I answered.

  I think it was the first time in her life anyone had seen Mrs. Caradura smile. I never knew her face could do that. It was a little scary.

  Once I got home, I began a detailed investigation. This would be different than the average “I can’t find my keys” type of mystery. This was a red alert. The first thing I would need was my gear. Hat: check. Notebook: In pocket. Yes, I still use a pen and notepad. Some detectives use fancy digital pads or tablets to write down their observations, but I’m old fashioned. I have way too much valuable information that could be stolen by thieves. The only thing I was missing was Abuelo’s glasses. I had tried using a traditional magnifying glass, but to be honest, nothing is stronger or thicker than grandf
ather’s eyewear. The problem: Abuelo was taking a nap. The glasses were on his bedside table, next to a cup of liquid that was holding his dentures. I cringed as I reached over just enough to grab the glasses with my two fingers. I didn’t want to get too close to his floating jaw. I guess that’s why the dentist says to brush twice a day. Gross.

  With Abuelo’s glasses in hand, I started analyzing my lunch bag for clues. I searched my lunch for traces of other poison or booby traps. That’s when I found the note. It was on a little sticky paper and read:

  Eat up

  So, this was a sarcastic criminal. Ha! They probably meant:

  Eat up

  I saved the note and placed it in a sealed sandwich bag labeled “EVIDENCE.” I would need to use handwriting analysis to catch this criminal. Luckily, I’ve done hours of internet research on people’s handwriting, which means I’m pretty much an expert by now.

  I held interviews with my family members and asked them to write the words “eat up” on a piece of paper. I would later compare them to the evidence I had found. Usually, I would question my family members to see if they had anything to do with the deadly china. But, I knew my parents would never do such a thing. They would miss me too much if I had eaten that orange. Even worse, they would be stuck living with La Bruja as their only child. I can’t imagine anybody would want that. As for my sister, well, she wasn’t smart enough to put together such a sneaky assassination attempt. Honestly, I don’t even think she can spell “assassination.” A detective can’t rely on hunches alone, so I made sure I had my household writing samples, just in case. After looking over my family’s handwriting under a super bright light bulb, I knew none of them were a match.

  EXHIBIT A: Papi’s Sample

  Eat up

  Match Status: NEGATIVE

  EXHIBIT B: Mami’s Sample

  Eat up

  Match Status: NEGATIVE

  EXHIBIT C: La Bruja’s Sample

  Eat up