Who Stole New Year's Eve?

by Martha Freeman

  Dad looked at the timer on the oven. “Okay. I’ve got a few minutes.”

  By the time we got outside, a knot of neighbors—mostly kids—had gathered on the sidewalk. Jeremiah Popp was there, along with Billy Jensen. So were Sophie and Byron Sikora. I asked Jeremiah about Yasmeen. He shook his head and frowned. “She said it’s too cold to come outside and I should just tell her what the fuss is about.”

  Dad looked down at Jeremiah. “It’s not that cold, and besides, Yasmeen is usually tougher than any kid of mine.”

  “Meaning me?” I asked.

  “If the coat fits,” Dad said. “Now, what is under that tarpaulin, do you think?”

  Tarpaulin? Isn’t that some kind of big turtle?

  Usually Yasmeen would define it for me. But Jeremiah stepped up. “A tarpaulin is a tarp, Alex. He’s talking about that white cloth there.”

  “I knew that,” I said. “But I don’t know what’s under it. Sophie, ask your uncle, why don’t you?” Al the delivery guy is Sophie’s mom’s brother.

  But Sophie’s uncle wouldn’t tell us. “What’s it look like?” he teased.

  Billy Jensen guessed baby tree, and Jeremiah said humongous bird feeder. All I could think of was a soda machine.

  Finally Eve came out the front door, carrying Marshmallow. Her mom and dad brought up the rear. Eve was grinning as she ran across the yard and spoke to the other guy, the one I didn’t know. He had a beard. “Uncle Jim,” she said, “what are you doing here? What is this thing? Is it for me?”

  Not for nothing do I have a reputation for being a detective. If this guy was Eve’s uncle, then I had an idea what the surprise might be. Hadn’t Eve’s mom said he was a sculptor?

  “Pull the tarp off and see for yourself!” Eve’s uncle handed her a corner of the cloth, and Eve wasted no time—she yanked.

  Sure enough, the tarp dropped to reveal a sculpture—an ice sculpture!

  But that wasn’t all.

  Glittering before us in the sunshine, the present was a life-sized ice replica of Eve herself. Same height. Same hair. Same big smile. She was wearing shorts and skater shoes and a tank top, standing on a skateboard, arms out for balance and hair flying. The board was tilted with her on it, so that she seemed to be screaming down a hill.

  There was an instant of silence while everyone stared. Then Dad breathed, “Oh. My. Goodness.”

  And I said, “Wow—that is so cool!”

  And Dad punched me in the arm for making a dumb joke, but really I didn’t even mean it as a joke.

  Then everybody spoke at the same time, and the No. 1 reaction was: “Amazing!”

  The real Eve, the flesh-and-blood one, loved it so much she squealed—which scared Marshmallow, who jumped out of her arms, sat back on his haunches, and barked at Ice Eve. I don’t like this. I don’t like this one bit. She doesn’t smell right. Then, like he wanted to commit the scent to memory, he trotted to the base of the sculpture and sniffed it all around.

  “You don’t suppose the pooch will, uh . . . try to mark his territory?” Dad asked.

  “Ewww!” I said.

  But Marshmallow behaved himself. Meanwhile, Uncle Jim told Eve the present had been her dad’s idea. “So if you don’t like it, blame him. And if you do, I get the credit. A good likeness, huh?”

  “Scary good,” Eve said, and to me that seemed about right.

  The thing is, the sculpture really did look like Eve—a cold, lifeless version of Eve, with a frozen stare and a frozen smile. Yeah, it was awesome. But it was also creepy!

  I’m not sure everybody else felt the same, though. They all wanted a picture of Eve in front of the statue, and she didn’t mind posing. She even stood the way the statue was standing, arms out and head tilted back. There was lots of chatting and laughing, and Eve’s parents looked proud. They had done a good job with their birthday surprise.

  And there was something else good, too. It was nice to see the neighbors getting along. It looked as if the Jensens’ disaster party had been forgotten. Now I wished maybe Professor and Mrs. Popp would come outside—even Yasmeen. Maybe they could start over and be friends.

  But so far there was no sign of them.

  Finally, Eve’s uncle Jim said he had to get going. He had a lot more sculptures to set up downtown. “It’s my busiest day of the year,” he said.

  Dad and I helped him fold the tarp; then he put it under his arm and started toward the van. On his way, he took one look back. In the warm sun, a stray drop like a tear slid down Ice Eve’s cheek. Uncle Jim frowned and looked at the blue sky. “It’s not supposed to be this warm in December!”

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Yasmeen phoned after breakfast. She wanted to know what I was doing with my day.

  Yasmeen believes in doing something with your day. This is a basic difference between her and me.

  “I have to go get Eve a birthday present,” I said. “Are you sure your parents won’t let you go to her party? You can sleep in the next morning.”

  “No, I can’t. I have church,” Yasmeen said.

  “You can take a nap after church,” I said. “My mom’s day off is tomorrow. She’ll talk to your mom if it will help.”

  “I don’t even want to go to her old party,” Yasmeen said. “But I’ll come with you to get a present. I mean, I’m busy but not that busy.”

  Dad had to make pie deliveries later that morning, so he dropped Yasmeen and me off downtown. We bought cups of hot spiced cider from a booth at the Ice Carnival, then walked around to look at the sculptures.

  Yasmeen liked the one by the flower shop, a girl holding a bouquet. My favorite was the one in front of the pet store, a dog sitting on its haunches and begging. Eve’s uncle had made the sculpture so detailed you could see the curls in the dog’s fur. There were lots of others, too—like an ice football player in front of a store that sells college souvenirs and T-shirts, a chef with a tray of pizza in front of a restaurant, and—this one was boring—a dollar sign in front of a bank.

  Finally, we came to Mrs. Miggins’s toy store, where I was planning to get the present.

  “How come Mrs. Miggins doesn’t have a sculpture outside?” Yasmeen wanted to know.

  “Because she doesn’t like Ice Carnival,” I explained. “She says there’s no point having an event after Christmas because nobody buys toys after Christmas. She wants the city to move the carnival earlier, but they won’t.”

  Inside, we were greeted by Mrs. Miggins’s Saint Bernard, Leo G.

  “Hey, buddy,” I said. Then—before I could get out of the way—he shook his hairy head and let fly with a wad of dog drool.

  “Yeccch.” Yasmeen stared at the mess on my sleeve. “Alex, I think you attract that stuff.”

  Mrs. Miggins brought me a paper towel. While I did my best to clean up, she asked if she could help us find anything.

  I started to say yes. What do I know about a girl’s birthday present?

  But Yasmeen spoke first. “We’ve got it under control.”

  Then, with Mrs. Miggins watching in case we broke anything, we walked around the store. I picked up a game, a stuffed animal, and a puzzle, but Yasmeen’s opinion on all of them was “Too expensive—you hardly know her!”

  This was not helpful.

  Finally we came to the bargain table. On it was a jack-o’-lantern key chain left over from Halloween. It made a scream noise when you squeezed it.

  Yasmeen picked it up. “Perfect!”

  “Are you kidding? It would give a person nightmares!”

  “But look, Alex,” Yasmeen said, “it’s marked down seventy-five percent. Trust me, Eve will love it.”

  I lost my temper. “Yasmeen, what is the matter with you? I can get Eve a decent present if I want to!”

  Yasmeen’s face went through a bunch of changes—she was surprised, she was mad, she was sad—she was really mad.

  And then . . . she turned and walked out of the store!

  What the heck?

  “Wait—come bac
k!” I called, but the door was swinging shut.

  My face felt hot, and the rest of me felt terrible. Leo G. came up and bumped my behind in sympathy—leaving a spot of drool on my jeans.

  Mrs. Miggins had been watching. “Everything okay there, Alex? Now can I help you out?”

  “Oh, uh . . . sure,” I said, and explained what I was shopping for.

  Mrs. Miggins was less grumpy than usual, probably because the store was almost empty, minimizing the chance that something might get broken. “Ah, I see,” she said. “You know, the Henry girl and her mom came in to shop for party favors. Very nice people. Yasmeen might be afraid she’ll lose you.”

  “Lose me?” I repeated. “I’m not going anywhere.”

  It wasn’t a joke, but Mrs. Miggins laughed. Then she had a good idea for a present. “How about one of these light-up Frisbees? Like the ones Sophie Sikora got you and the other kids for Christmas? I’ll even wrap it in birthday paper for you.”

  Dad picked me up on his way home from delivering pies.

  “What happened to Yasmeen?” he asked after I tossed the present in the car and climbed in beside him.

  I had just started to explain when we spotted someone wearing a purple coat on the sidewalk ahead—Yasmeen. Dad pulled the car over and rolled down the passenger window. “Hey, Ms. Popp,” he said. “May I offer you a lift?”

  Yasmeen looked across me at my dad. “That’s okay, Mr. Parakeet. I prefer to walk. Thank you very much, though.”

  Dad tried to argue, but Yasmeen wouldn’t budge.

  “Okay.” He shrugged. “Walk safely, then.” We both waved, and he drove away.

  “When we get home, I’ll call her parents so they know what’s up,” he said. “Boy, she must be mad. What did you do?”

  “Nothing! And thanks for thinking it’s my fault.” The rest of the way home I finished explaining what had happened. In our driveway I added the crazy thing Mrs. Miggins had said about how Yasmeen might be worried she’d lose me.

  “I don’t get it,” I concluded.

  Dad turned the ignition switch to off, sat for a second, and then looked over like he wanted to say something.

  I didn’t give him a chance. “You’re not going to get all wise and parental on me, are you?”

  Dad smiled. “Parental maybe, but I don’t have a lot of wisdom to offer. Girls are tricky, Alex, and—”

  “Girls!?” I couldn’t believe my dad. “Who said this had anything to do with girls?”

  “Uh, Earth to Alex? Yasmeen and Eve are girls.”

  “Only technically,” I said.

  Dad grinned. “Okay, have it your way. Hey—isn’t there a bowl game we could watch this afternoon? I think I could use a break from making pies.”

  Yasmeen didn’t call the rest of that day. I wasn’t used to having her mad at me, and when I went to bed I couldn’t sleep. Finally, I raised myself up on my elbows and looked out the window. In the Henrys’ yard, I could see Ice Eve in front of the five gold rings. Sparkling in the colored lights, she didn’t look creepy or zombie-like anymore. She looked pretty.

  Was Dad right? Did this thing with Yasmeen and Eve and me have something to do with them being girls? It was all very confusing.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Mom opened my door the next morning before it was even light out. “Alex? Get up, honey. I need you. Something’s happened at the Henrys’.”

  I rubbed my eyes and sat up, disturbing Luau, who jumped from bed to floor—buh-bump—then swished his tail and blinked: Well! And I was having such a lovely dream about herring.

  “I know it’s early.” This was Mom’s idea of an apology. “And I’ll meet you downstairs in five.”

  Mom closed the door. I counted to three, swung my feet to the floor, stood up, put clothes on, splashed water on my face, and went downstairs—all without waking up.

  In the front hall, Mom looked at her watch and nodded. “Impressive. But you might do something to your hair. You wouldn’t want to scare anybody, would you?”

  “What’s going on?” I flattened my hair with one hand and grabbed my coat with the other. “It’s your day off, I thought.”

  Mom pushed the front door open. “Eve’s gone.”

  “What?!” I hurried out behind her and the cold air woke me at last. The sky was dark and cloudy, with a pale gray light at the horizon.

  “Ice Eve, I mean,” Mom clarified. “ ’Though when you think about it, that’s even more mysterious. Eve the girl has working legs, while Eve the statue doesn’t.”

  By now we were passing the Lees’ geese a-laying, all present and accounted for. Next door in the Henrys’ yard, the rings were fine, too. But Mom was right. Ice Eve was gone.

  “Isn’t it possible she disappeared into a puddle?” I asked.

  Mom shook her head. “It takes days to melt a big chunk of ice like that, even in summer.”

  Our arrival on the Henrys’ walk caused a yappy outburst from Marshmallow, who was peeking out the front window over the back of the sofa: Danger! Danger! Danger!

  Honestly, did that dog have bad eyesight or a bad memory?

  Mrs. Henry—Jessica—opened the door for Mom and me. Marshmallow had jumped off the sofa by now and was running zigzags in the front hall. When we walked in, he hid behind Mrs. Henry’s feet and quivered.

  “Thanks for coming over,” Mrs. Henry said to Mom. “Would you like a cup of coffee? Eve’s in the dining room, Alex.”

  The moms disappeared into the kitchen. I went to find Eve. She was sitting at the head of the table. She was still wearing pajamas, the lucky pup. Her chin was resting on her hand. It was the first time I’d ever seen her look sad.

  “Hey.” I sat down. “What happened?”

  Eve looked at me and made a face. I think it was supposed to be a smile, but it didn’t work out so well.

  “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to,” I said quickly.

  “There’s nothing to tell,” Eve said. “Somebody stole me—stole Ice Eve, I mean.”

  I don’t know if I’ve mentioned this yet, but Yasmeen and I—with help from Sophie and Luau and some other people—have solved four mysteries on our street. Not to brag, but we are actually kind of good at the whole detecting thing.

  So now, even though I felt bad for Eve, my professional skills kicked in. A case to solve meant questions to ask.

  “When did you notice Ice Eve was missing?” I said.

  Eve looked at me. “Oh, wow, is this like you’re being a detective all of a sudden?”

  “That’s my mom’s job,” I said modestly. “But sometimes I do help her out.”

  “Yeah, I heard,” Eve said. “There were stories in the newspaper, right? I even hoped maybe someday I’d get to help you and Yasmeen solve a case. But I never wanted it to be my own case. Alex—I hate living here. The weather’s cold. No one likes me. And now somebody stole my birthday present.”

  CHAPTER NINE

  This was awful. There were tears in Eve’s eyes. Wasn’t this a girl kind of conversation? Where was Yasmeen when I needed her?

  Home in bed, probably. Even Yasmeen didn’t get up this early on vacation.

  “Uh . . . I like you,” I said, because I had to say something. “I mean, I don’t mean like like you, not the way some people mean like—some girls mean like, I mean—but just like like. Like not dislike. Does that make sense?”

  Now Eve actually did smile. “Yeah, it does. Thanks. And I like you, too. Meaning like the same way you mean like, I think.”

  Now we were done with the awful part, right? So I tried again. “When did you notice Ice Eve was missing?”

  Eve thought for a second. “I got up early ’cause I knew Mom was making carrot muffins for breakfast, and I looked out the window, and I saw the five gold rings but not the statue. And the weird thing is I didn’t even think about it then. I guess you don’t necessarily notice when something is gone, the way you notice when something is there. Does that make sense?”

  “If you
say so,” I said.

  “It wasn’t till I got downstairs that my brain said wait a sec, and I opened the front door and looked out. That’s when I really saw that Ice Eve was missing. It was still dark, but she was definitely gone.”

  “And what time was that?” I asked.

  “Maybe an hour ago,” Eve said.

  I looked at my watch. It was only 7:45—so she was talking 6:45.

  “And when did you last see the statue?” I asked.

  Eve had to think before she spoke. “When I went to bed last night. I looked out my window. The Christmas lights were still on and the music was playing—so it must have been before eleven, when Professor Jensen turns all that off. Maybe ten o’clock?”

  I remembered seeing the statue last night, too—probably around the same time.

  “So the statue disappeared between ten last night and six-forty-five this morning,” I said. “But probably after eleven, because whoever took it would’ve waited till the lights were off. Did you hear anything unusual during that time?”

  Eve shook her head. “I slept great.”

  The door from the kitchen opened, and Mrs. Henry brought out a plate with four muffins on it. I did some quick calculations. If Eve had already had one, or if she was too upset to eat, I could score as many as three.

  And I am a growing boy.

  We didn’t talk about the case while we ate. Instead, Eve told me about her school in California, where the kids wear flip-flops and cut-off pajama bottoms all year long, and even some white kids have dreadlocks. It was obvious Eve thought California was pretty great.

  The only bad part was her dad had had to work all the time. She had hoped maybe that would change when they moved to Pennsylvania, but so far it hadn’t. Some nights—like last night—he worked all night in his new lab.

  Mrs. Henry came out of the kitchen and took the muffin plate. My mom was behind her.

  “What do you say we go outside and look for some physical evidence?” Mom said. “I’m betting our thief left tracks.”

  Fortified by muffins—I only got two; Eve turned out to have a healthy appetite—we put coats on and went outside. Marshmallow came, too. It was light by now, and the clouds had cleared away. On the spot where Ice Eve had stood on her skateboard yesterday was a patch of snow packed into a neat square of ice. Same as he had with the statue, Marshmallow sniffed around it and whined. Still doesn’t smell right. I don’t like it.