Now Nathaniel looks at me. When he does, I’m pretty sure he has no intention of passing any information on to his father. “Right,” he says. “Let’s review what we know so far.”
Stacey whips out her forensic-science notebook so she can start a fresh list.
“What we know so far is that a Chihuahua, a standard poodle and a Pomeranian are missing. All purebreds,” Nathaniel says.
Stacey writes the word purebreds, underlining it so hard I am sure she is leaving an imprint on the next page.
I tell the others about Larry and how he warned us to keep an eye on Roxie because he had heard there was a dognapper on the loose.
Nathaniel is perking up. “Let me get this straight. You’ve got a German shepherd—a purebred?”
“Yup. Roxie. She’s a beauty. Ask Mason—the two of them hit it off.”
Nathaniel is not interested in hearing Mason’s opinion of Roxie. “We might be able to use Roxie as bait,” he says.
“No way,” I tell him. “Don’t even think about it!”
Stacey raises one finger in the air. “I thought we weren’t going to do anything dangerous.”
“We’re not,” Nathaniel tells her.
“What we need to do is apply Locard’s Exchange Principle,” Mason says, “and even if we aren’t detectives, we should consider possible motives.”
“He’s right.” There I go, agreeing with Mason again! What is going on here?
“I can only think of a couple of reasons why anyone would steal dogs. One would be”—Mason glances at Nathaniel—“for animal experiments. Sorry, Nathaniel. The other reason—and the one that’s more likely—is for profit. Maybe the dognapper is reselling purebreds for less than breeders do. I bet lots of people would be interested and not ask too many questions.”
Great deals on purebred dogs? Why didn’t I think of it before? The Kijiji ad my dad and I saw when we were looking for a guard dog! I am so eager to tell the others that I start blabbering. “This ad! On Kijiji! My dad and I…we saw this ad! On Kijiji!”
“Could you calm down a little?” Muriel says.
Muriel’s cell phone is in front of her on the picnic table. “Do you get the Internet on that thing?” I ask.
“Of course I do,” she says. “I’ve got three gigabytes of data,” she adds proudly.
She is about to explain how data is measured when somehow I manage to say, “Google Kijiji + Montreal + purebred dogs. Now!”
The first listing is the one my dad and I saw. Muriel reads the information out loud: “Amazing deals on purebred dogs of all kinds, Montreal.”
Nico whistles. “We need to get in touch with this guy right away and set up a meeting.”
Stacey is gripping the edge of the picnic table like it is a ledge she is about to fall off of. “Going online to set up a meeting doesn’t sound very safe to me.”
“Don’t worry,” Nico says. “It’ll be safe—Muriel will take care of it.”
SEVENTEEN
I need to refill my water bottle. There is a water fountain in front of the Life Sciences Building. Lloyd and Samantha are so busy talking they don’t even notice when I walk by. Aren’t forensic scientists supposed to be observant at all times?
“He doesn’t have a cell phone?” Samantha is saying to Lloyd. “I thought everyone had a cell phone. I saw a photo online of a Masai warrior in Kenya—even he had a cell phone.”
“Well, he doesn’t—and I’m pretty sure he’s back on the street. He comes home once in a while. He goes back to working at the vet’s and everything seems to be okay, but then he takes off again. It’s as if the streets have a hold on him, but I don’t think it’s drugs.”
Samantha sighs. “I’m sorry, Lloyd. It must be really hard for you and your parents.”
“It is. But it’s harder for Sebastian.”
So Lloyd’s brother is not dead. He lives on the streets. In a city as big as Montreal, I am used to seeing street people. I just never knew any personally or knew anyone else who did.
Lloyd looks down at the grass. When he looks up, he notices me. I hope he doesn’t realize I have overheard such a private conversation. “Everything okay? It looked like Nathaniel was getting a little worked up before.”
“We were just arguing about whether Mrs. Lu did it,” I say quickly.
Samantha pats Lloyd’s elbow. “I guess that means forensics camp is going well,” she tells him.
Lloyd raises his juice box into the air. “Here’s to everything going well.” I wonder if he is thinking about his brother.
When I get back from the water fountain, Muriel has already opened a new Gmail account and messaged the guy from Kijiji to say she is interested in buying a purebred Chihuahua. At first she was going to say she wanted a Pomeranian, but Nathaniel ruled that out. Nathaniel’s thinking was that if this guy was the dognapper, he might get suspicious if the dog Muriel wanted happened to be the last kind of dog that went missing. The dognapper might figure we were trying to set him up.
“Are you sure it’s safe?” Stacey is asking.
“That’s why Muriel created a new Gmail account.” Nico is playing pretend piano again. “Did the guy message you back yet?” he asks his sister.
Muriel checks her cell phone. “No new emails. All we can do now is sit tight.” She eyes Nico’s fingers. “I know that’s hard for you.”
Nathaniel stretches his arms when he stands up. “C’mon, you guys,” he says. “Let’s go figure out who vandalized the cafeteria. Unless you want to let Lloyd and Samantha solve the case for us.”
Because we have a lot of evidence to analyze, Lloyd and Samantha take us to the forensics laboratory. The lab is locked, probably because there is so much expensive equipment inside: microscopes, a gas chromatograph (a device that breaks down and identifies chemicals), and a machine that replicates DNA until you have a large enough amount to study.
There are three gleaming stainless-steel sinks for us to work at and a long counter where Nico and Stacey will be able to work on footwear impressions.
In a corner, a tall skeleton dangles from the ceiling. When the sunlight lands on it, the skeleton shimmers. If we were anywhere else, the skeleton would be a leftover Halloween decoration. But not here. Here, that thing could be real. The thought makes me get a little shivery. Why am I not surprised when Nathaniel walks right over to the skeleton and stands in front of it like he is mesmerized?
Mason helps Samantha lug a bag of plaster of Paris over to the counter. When that is done, he walks over to Nathaniel. “You okay, dude?” he asks. Mason never used to say dude. He must have picked it up from Nathaniel.
“D’you ever wonder what happens to people after they… you know—die?” Nathaniel asks Mason.
Mason pauses the way he does when he is looking for the right words. “I don’t know for sure, but if you ask me, there’s got to be more to us than this.” He runs his fingertip along one of the skeleton’s thin ribs.
“Sometimes it feels like my grandfather’s in the room,” Nathaniel says. “Not now. But other times. Not like a ghost or anything. Just…well…kind of present.”
Nico and Stacey are at one of the sinks, helping Samantha mix plaster powder with water. “We’re coming to get your footwear impressions!” Stacey’s voice echoes in the lab.
Muriel and I are at a workstation, dusting the coffee cup for prints. The surface is rounded, but Muriel is getting good at using the wand. She is not wasting much of the metallic powder. Between the sunlight streaming in through the windows and the overhead fluorescents, the lab is bright, making it easier for us to see two fingerprints emerge from the magnetic powder.
“We see something!” I call out, and when I wave everyone over, I bump into Muriel. The cup flies out of her hand, but luckily she catches it with
her other hand. I hold my breath while she checks that the fingerprints are not spoiled.
Nico brings two tubs of sand over to us. “It’s me, Prince Charming,” he says. “Does one of you happen to be Cinderella? Because I’d like to see your shoes.”
I laugh, mostly because I’m relieved we didn’t lose those fingerprints.
“So did you ever read the version of the story where Prince Charming was a forensic scientist?” Nico asks.
Muriel and I each step into—and out of—the tubs of sand. Nico pours the plaster of Paris mixture over my footwear impression in the sand. The plaster casts need time to dry before we can see if the impressions came out clearly. Stacey and Nico have already got Nathaniel’s and Mason’s impressions. They still need Samantha’s and Lloyd’s—and also their own.
Mrs. Lu knocks at the lab door. “You wanted to see us?” she says to the counselors.
Leo Tessier is behind her. So is Amelia Lester, and now I see that Jonah Cartwright is there too. It feels weird to see all our suspects together, in person, like they have stepped out of the video the counselors showed us—which in a way they have.
“Thanks for coming,” Lloyd tells them. “As you know, we’ve already got your fingerprints on file. But now our footwear team would like to take your footwear impressions. And we’ll also need a handwriting sample.” Lloyd looks over at us. “Is there anything else you’d like to ask our visitors?”
Muriel’s hand flies up into the air, but then, just as quickly, she drops it down again.
“Muriel?” Lloyd says.
“Umm,” Muriel says, “would it be rude if we asked the visitors to leave for a minute?”
“Bah!” Mrs. Lu says. “I see more rude behavior than that in the cafeteria all the time.” She pulls Leo by the string on the back of his apron.
Amelia follows Leo. “I don’t understand why you’re so opposed to mushroom stew,” we hear her tell him.
Leo throws his hands up in the air. “Everyone knows that stew requires beef!” he mutters, without bothering to turn around and face Amelia.
Stacey nudges me. “See what I mean?” she whispers.
Jonah is the last of our suspects to leave the laboratory. “Those two aren’t much fun to be around,” he says, pointing with his chin at Leo and Amelia. “Let us know when you’re ready for us to come back,” he adds before he shuts the door behind him.
Lloyd sits down on a tall stool. “All right, Muriel. Tell us what you’re thinking.”
There is a spot of black powder on the tip of Muriel’s nose. “I think we should ask them each to do a short spelling test. And we should include the word meat—the kind you buy from a butcher.”
Now why didn’t I think of that?
It is proof that it takes a team to solve a crime.
EIGHTEEN
When we call the cafeteria staff back in, Leo and Amelia tell us they are in a hurry. Apparently, they need to discuss next week’s menus. I have a feeling the discussion is going to end in an argument. Muriel and I agree to take a break from our fingerprinting assignment to help get their footwear impressions.
“Meat farms are destroying this planet,” Amelia tells Leo.
“Nonsense.” Leo still won’t look at her.
Those two don’t make much of a team—and I don’t think they’re acting. I think their problem is they both want to be right. Or maybe they’re just not team players.
As for me, I may not be used to being a team player—probably because I’m an only child—but I’m starting to like it. Working together toward a common goal is fun. I wonder if honeybees feel the same way when they collect pollen and nectar.
Mrs. Lu is peering through one of the microscopes at a piece of human bone. “What are those little boxes?” she asks Samantha.
“You mean the rectangles, right? Those are osteons,” Samantha explains. I can tell right away that she loves talking about human remains. “They are made up of osteocytes. Osteons are present in many bones of most mammals.”
“Osteons. Osteons.” Mrs. Lu says it twice. She must like the sound of the word.
“Mrs. Lu,” Stacey says, “if you don’t mind stepping into this vat. It will only take a minute.”
Muriel is getting Leo’s footwear impressions. He is wearing bright-orange runners, which I had not noticed under his baggy white chef ’s pants. He is asking Muriel about forensics camp—and I notice he is being a lot friendlier to her than to Amelia. “It makes me wish I was a keed again,” he tells Muriel. “You say each one of our fingers has a different fingerprint? I assumed zay were all the same.”
Amelia is less talkative than her boss. When he is not looking, she rolls her eyes at him. “It makes me wish I was a keed again,” she whispers, imitating his accent. “If that man is so interested in keeds, he should offer healthier meal choices for the university students. In a few years from now, some of them will be having their own keeds.”
“He didn’t say he was interested in kids,” I point out. “He said he wished he could be a kid again.”
Amelia is wearing a pair of blue-and-white leather shoes that look like they came from a vintage store too. After I get her footwear impressions, she kicks the side of the plastic vat to make sure all the sand is off. I check the impression I just took and say, “I think you might have a piece of gum or a pebble or something at the top of your right shoe.”
Amelia takes the shoe off and totters on the other leg. “You’re right about the gum. That’s kinda cool.”
Lloyd has gone to get paper and pens. “Before you go,” he tells the suspects, “Muriel would like to take handwriting samples.” He does not say anything about a spelling test, which I decide is probably a wise move. I am guessing that because English is not Leo’s or Mrs. Lu’s first language, they might have trouble spelling—and they might be embarrassed if they knew this was a spelling test. If I’m right, and one of them spells the meat you buy at a butcher shop with two e’s, then our case could be solved!
Muriel gives each suspect paper and a pen. They are sitting on metal stools at the long counter. I have pushed the vats with the footwear impressions over to the side. Muriel makes sure there is enough space between each suspect that they will not be able to look at each other’s answers.
“All right…” Muriel turns to me, and I know she is scrambling for what to do next. “If you could number your sheets one to ten, please. And if you could please write in cursive.”
“Cursive?” Mrs. Lu asks..
“Yes, you know—like this. With the letters linked.” Muriel scribbles her name on a sheet and holds it up to show Mrs. Lu. “The first word is…” Muriel hesitates.
“Bake,” I call out.
Leo Tessier twirls his mustache. “It’s one of my favorite words,” he says.
“Please write it with a capital B,” I add. It will be useful to see how the suspects write their capital Bs, since that is how the mustard message starts out.
“Right,” Muriel says. “In fact, that’s your second word. Right. As opposed to left. Or wrong.”
We give them the words hotter (that will show us how they cross their t’s), dogs (because I am thinking about Roxie and wondering what she is up to while I am at forensics camp), recycle (in case Stacey is listening), skull (that one is for Nathaniel), Bob (which will give us another capital B to look at), lessons (we almost forgot that we also need to see some s’s) and Montreal (because it’s the best city in the world and it has a capital M).
The last word is Meat. Muriel explains she means the kind of meat you buy at a butcher shop.
Jonah crinkles his nose as he writes the word. Amelia sighs. Leo smiles. He must be thinking of rôti de boeuf. Mrs. Lu throws her pencil down on the counter when she is done.
I should get back to the fingerp
rinting station, but I cannot resist looking over the suspects’ shoulders to see how they have spelled Meat.
I am closest to Jonah. He has spelled the word correctly. Same for Amelia. I lean in to get a better view of Leo’s paper. He has spelled the word correctly too. Which leaves Mrs. Lu.
Something tells me we are coming close to solving this case.
But when I look at Mrs. Lu’s sheet, I see that she, too, has spelled the word correctly.
How can that be?
Our four suspects file out of the room. Amelia and Leo seem to have stopped speaking to each other altogether. “See ya later,” I hear Jonah tell Samantha. They must be friends. Mrs. Lu picks up a piece of dried plaster from the floor and drops it in the garbage can on her way out. She and my dad would definitely get along.
I take another look at Mrs. Lu’s sheet. Maybe I saw wrong.
Then I remember Samantha warning us about not trying to jam the puzzle pieces together. Is that what I have been trying to do?
We also have index cards with each suspect’s ten fingerprints. Muriel and I need to identify those two thumbprints on the paper cup. We start with Mrs. Lu’s card, but we do not get a match. “I really thought it would be her,” I tell Muriel.
It looks as if one of the thumbprints belongs to Leo. And that the other one belongs to Amelia.
“Why would both of their thumbprints be on the same cup?” Muriel wonders out loud.
“She could have passed his coffee to him. Or the other way around,” I say.
Muriel slaps the top of her head. “Why didn’t I think of that?”
“Because you’re the computer whiz. Which leaves me in charge of paper cups.” I take a bow, and Muriel laughs.
Stacey and Nico are at the other end of the room. “Any results yet on the footwear evidence?” I call out to them. The counselors have printed up enlarged photographs of the footprints found on the kitchen floor, and Stacey and Lloyd are comparing those with the photos taken of the plaster of Paris casts.
Forensics Squad Unleashed Page 10
