Who Stole New Year's Eve?

by Martha Freeman

  There weren’t any footprints, probably because the snow was too icy and hard to take them. But we did follow two shallow parallel grooves from the neat square to the sidewalk. Next to the curb, the grooves became a confused jumble of frozen mud.

  “Someone put Ice Eve on a hand truck, it looks like,” Mom said, “and then hauled her across the yard and manhandled her into a waiting truck.” There was no snow on the street, so we couldn’t see tire tracks. Mom said, “I can have Officer Krichels come out with one of the lab guys to check for residue from the vehicle tires. That might tell us more.”

  Mrs. Henry looked surprised. “You want to call forensics? Isn’t this just a prank?”

  Mom shrugged. “The ice sculpture was worth enough money that stealing it counts as a felony. But if you don’t want to follow up, the district attorney probably won’t, either. The theft of a single ice sculpture is upsetting, but it doesn’t threaten the public.”

  “It’s your present that was stolen, Eve,” Mrs. Henry said. “What do you think?”

  Eve shook her head. “I don’t want to make a big deal out of it. By the time we find it, it’ll be a bucket of water. On the other hand”—she looked at me—“maybe Alex and I could do some detecting. I mean, if you’re not busy, Alex? I never did detecting before.”

  I was surprised to realize I liked this idea. Detecting is a lot of work, but vacation had gone on long enough that I was actually bored.

  “Okay,” I said, but then I had a horrible thought. Yasmeen would kill me if Eve and I worked together, unless . . . maybe the three of us could do it? Maybe if they worked together, Eve and Yasmeen would get to be friends.

  It was still early, and Eve still had to get dressed. We decided to meet at my house in an hour to make a plan. Meanwhile, I had a plan of my own—and two minutes later, I was standing on the Popps’ front porch.

  I put my finger on the doorbell and paused. Yasmeen couldn’t possibly be mad at me anymore, right? Plus, she loves detecting. When she found out Ice Eve was missing, she’d totally want to investigate.

  I took a breath and pressed the bell. Right away, like she’d been waiting on the other side, Yasmeen opened the door.

  CHAPTER TEN

  “Hi, bud!” I smiled. “How ya doin’?”

  Yasmeen didn’t smile back. Instead, she tilted her head to one side, folded her arms across her chest, and said, “Yes?”

  I kept smiling. “So—I guess you’re still mad, right?”

  Yasmeen narrowed her eyes. “What do you think?”

  “Well . . . okay, anyway, that’s too bad because . . .” and I explained about Ice Eve.

  Yasmeen listened closely, then stepped over the threshold so she could look down the street at the Henrys’ yard. Was I imagining it, or did a smile flicker on her face when she saw that Ice Eve was gone?

  Something crazy crossed my mind. Could Yasmeen have had anything to do with it? Solving mysteries had taught both of us how bad guys operate. If Yasmeen wanted to steal something, she totally knew how.

  The human brain is a wonderful thing, because somehow I managed to think these thoughts and talk at the same time. Finally I got to the point: “So, Yasmeen, could you help us, please? Except for my mom, you’re the best detective on Chickadee Court.”

  It was pretty obvious I was buttering her up, but sometimes she falls for it.

  “Who is ‘us’?” she said.

  “Eve and me,” I said, and right away I knew I’d made a mistake.

  “No,” she said. “I’m busy. Goodbye, Alex.”

  She started to close the door, but I stuck my foot between it and the jamb. That’s an old detecting trick. “What are you so busy with?”

  “Practicing for choir auditions,” Yasmeen said. Then she startled me by opening her mouth and singing: “Uh-MAY-zi-i-ing grace, how-ow sweeeeet the sound . . .”

  I gritted my teeth but resisted the urge to cover my ears. From somewhere in the house, Jeremiah called, “Yasmeen, you promised! Enough with the la-la-la!”

  Yasmeen closed her mouth and frowned.

  “That was great!” I lied. “You’re definitely improving. Eve won’t mind if you want to practice while we investigate. It’ll be like a whole new thing—the singing detective. What do you think?”

  “I think not,” Yasmeen said. “Besides, I’m not sure there really is a mystery. Eve probably hid the statue herself—or perhaps she poured boiling water on top to melt it.”

  “Why would she do that?”

  “To get attention,” Yasmeen said. “She’s that kind of girl. She planned her own birthday party, didn’t she?”

  “With her mom,” I said, “and anyway, she had to. She doesn’t know anybody here yet.”

  Yasmeen sighed. “I should have known you’d defend her. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m reading a really great book—The Hound of the Baskervilles. Ever hear of it?”

  I shook my head.

  “It’s a Sherlock Holmes book,” she said, “and I’m just at the part where I find out who did it. Bye, Alex.” And this time she succeeded in closing the door.

  I was on the sidewalk walking home when I saw Mom pulling the car out of our driveway. “Hey!” I motioned for her to roll down the window. “It’s your day off! You’re not going to work, are you?”

  “Kind of an emergency,” she said. “Call you later—I might need your help. Love you, honey.”

  And she drove away.

  “Dad?” I called when I got inside. “What’s Mom’s big emergency, anyway?”

  There was no answer, and I remembered it was Saturday, which meant Dad was probably grocery shopping. I hung up my coat and sat down on the floor to un-Velcro my boots. Meanwhile, Luau padded in from the den, head-butted my arm, and purred to tell me how very much he’d missed me.

  “Unh-hunh.” I kicked my boots off and scratched behind his ears. “What is it you really want?”

  Luau sat back, raised his paw to do a quick face wash, and then looked me in the eye. In your defense, it was a busy morning.

  Oh, shoot. “Sorry, buddy. Come on.”

  I got to my feet and headed for the basement, where I poured Luau a bowl of breakfast. Luau didn’t stop to mrrf a thank-you, but when he took his first bite, he purred, which was good enough. Then I remembered I hadn’t eaten breakfast yet myself—unless you count a couple of carrot muffins. And I hadn’t brushed my teeth or washed my face or made my bed, either.

  I went upstairs, cleaned up, and was just tugging my bedspread flat when the doorbell rang. Had it been an hour already? I hoped the day would settle down soon. I didn’t think I could continue to live at this pace.

  Eve was wearing orange pants and a pale-green turtleneck and a pink jacket. There were stars on the pink jacket. Her snow boots were purple, and her ear warmers matched her snow boots. Most of my friends have dark winter coats and black snow boots, so Eve looked kind of eye-popping.

  “I’m ready for detecting! And I’ve got this idea, too—if it’s okay with you, that is.”

  If it’s okay with you, that is? Did she really say that? Already, I could tell detecting with Eve was going to be different than detecting with Yasmeen.

  “I’m sure your idea is great,” I said. “Come on in for a sec while I put on my coat. Then we can go.”

  “Where are we going?” Eve asked.

  “Bub’s,” I said.

  Eve’s eyes got big. “You mean Bub’s a suspect? Do we get to interrogate him?”

  “Not exactly,” I said. “We’re going to Bub’s because minestrone soup makes a tasty and nutritious breakfast. Also, he’s the best one to give you your first lesson in detecting.”

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Bub lives on the corner of Chickadee and Groundhog, and it’s not only people who like to hang out with him. Luau does, too. Done with breakfast, my cat followed Eve and me down the sidewalk with his orange tail flying like a flag.

  As we walked, Eve explained her idea. She had made a LOST ICE SCULPTURE flyer on her
computer, and she thought we should post it all over the neighborhood.

  “Only, our printer’s not hooked up yet,” she said. “So I can’t make copies.”

  “We could use our printer, but it’s slow,” I said. “How about if we ask Sophie to print them out? Only, if we do, she’s going to want to help us with detecting.”

  “That’s okay with me,” Eve said.

  We passed the Ryans’ house—partridge in a pear tree—then turned into Bub’s driveway, where a yellow Al’s Delivery Service van was already parked.

  “Come on in!” Bub called when he heard us on the steps. “Soup’s on, and the coffee’s hot!”

  When you walk into Bub’s house, the hallway’s in front, and the living room’s on the right. Inside the living room are a recliner and a sofa, besides a dining table with six chairs around it. Beyond that is the kitchen, where the soup is. The drill is Bub makes soup every morning; then anyone who stops by can serve himself or herself from the pot on the stove.

  Luau immediately jumped into his usual spot on the recliner, circled twice, and made himself comfortable. The recliner faces the TV, which was on with the sound on mute. Luau likes old black-and-white movies, especially ones with cat food commercials. The one on the TV now had cowboys.

  Bub was sitting at the head of the table, with Al and a surprise guest—Sophie Sikora herself. In front of her on the table was a plastic box and a bunch of teensy parts and pieces. I had to look twice to realize they used to be a calculator; the box was so big and clunky looking, it must have dated from Jurassic times.

  Did I mention Sophie is some kind of an electronics genius? She can fix anything—doorbells, baby monitors, remote controls. Sometimes this comes in handy when we’re detecting.

  Everybody said hi, and Bub offered us minestrone. Of course I said “totally” to the soup, but first I explained how Ice Eve was missing.

  “Your birthday present?” Al looked at Eve. “That’s a shame. Hard to imagine going to the trouble of stealing it. She was one heavy girl.”

  I looked at Bub and Sophie. “You didn’t hear anything last night, did you? We figure she must’ve disappeared between eleven and about six in the morning.”

  Bub thought he’d heard a car sometime in the night, but he hadn’t looked at the clock. Sophie hadn’t heard anything. “But I’m a sound sleeper,” she added.

  “So you’re detecting again, are you?” Bub asked me. “Where’s Yasmeen?”

  “You mean you don’t think I can solve a case without Yasmeen?” I said.

  “I didn’t say that,” Bub said, “but up till now, you and Yasmeen have been a team.”

  Sophie cleared her throat—“Ahem”—and wagged her thumbs at herself.

  “You and Yasmeen and Sophie,” Bub said quickly.

  “Will you help us, Sophie?” Eve asked. “And it would be great if Yasmeen wanted to help, too.”

  Before the whole thing about Yasmeen could get awkward, I changed the subject—told Sophie about the flyer and asked if her family’s printer might be available.

  “No problemo,” Sophie said. “And I bet Byron and his buddies would be happy to put them up, too. With school out, they’re driving Mom crazy, and she can tell them they’re helping with a mystery. Can you e-mail me the file, Eve?”

  Eve said her mom would do it, and they each got out their phones.

  I don’t have a phone.

  And I don’t have a parent available to serve as my personal assistant. Yasmeen doesn’t have those things, either. Maybe that’s one reason she and I have always gotten along?

  Always till now, I mean.

  While the girls arranged things about the flyers, I went into the kitchen and served Eve and myself bowls of soup. When we were all settled back at the dining room table, I asked Bub to explain to Eve about solving a crime.

  “Shucks.” Bub tried to look modest. “You mean you want me to serve in the way of an expert consultant?”

  I nodded. “If you hadn’t shared all you know about mysteries from watching detective movies, Yasmeen and I never would have solved a single mystery.”

  Bub leaned back in his chair and twiddled his thumbs, which he always does when he’s thinking. “Well, Eve, I can break it down for you right quick. How you solve a mystery is, you look for the culprit who has three things: means, motive, and opportunity. Means means a way to do it. Now, in this case, that’s what you’d call critical, because not so many people have a way to steal an ice sculpture.”

  I slurped a bit of soup and nodded. “Good point.”

  “So in this case, I’d say you’re looking for someone with a truck, for example. And a dolly. And plenty of upper-body strength.”

  Bub looked pointedly at Al, who made a body-builder pose to show his biceps. “I’ve got all of the above,” he said, “but I didn’t do it.”

  “Okay, means makes sense,” Eve said. “What about motive?”

  “Motive,” Bub said, “means you’re looking for the culprit who some way or another benefits from the crime.”

  “Yeah—and who would benefit from owning a big lump of ice?” I asked.

  Eve looked at me. “Hey!”

  “Oh, sorry,” I said. “A big lump of . . . uh . . . very cute ice?”

  “That’s better,” Eve said.

  “Maybe the thief didn’t want the ice,” Sophie said. “Maybe the thief just didn’t want Eve to have a nice birthday.”

  “But nobody here even knows me!” Eve said.

  Sophie said some people are just mean and started to tell a long story about her little brother, Byron. Sophie talks a lot, and sometimes she gets way, way off the subject. I held up my hand. “Sophie? We want to solve this case before the spring thaw. So can we make a deal? If you’re talking too much, I make a sign so you know to be quiet.”

  “What sign?” Sophie asked.

  “You could tug on your earlobe,” Al said.

  “Which earlobe?” Sophie wanted to know.

  “Either earlobe!” I said—because I was afraid I’d forget and tug the wrong one and Sophie would just keep talking.

  “But what if you have an itchy earlobe?” Sophie asked.

  I looked at her.

  “Fine!” Sophie said. “How about if I just don’t say anything at all for the rest of the investigation? Would that make you happy?”

  From his chair, Luau emitted a mrrf, which meant, We should be so lucky.

  I said, “Of course not. We need your help.”

  Sophie grinned. “You sure do.” Then she looked at Bub. “Tell her about opportunity. Then we better get out of here, right? We’ve got detecting to do!”

  Bub nodded. “I’m on it. Opportunity is in the way of when you do the crime. In this case, who could’ve been out and about in the middle of the night without anybody knowing? Now, Al here’s got a wife, so if he got up and left, she’d rat him out.”

  “You better believe it,” Al said.

  “But ol’ bachelors like me, there’s nobody paying attention to what we’re up to. Come to that, I’ve got a truck out there. So as of this moment, I’d say I’m your most likely suspect.”

  Eve shook her head. “I don’t think so, Bub. You don’t have a motive.”

  Bub looked at me. “The new kid is catching on quick.”

  At the same time, Al stood up. “This has all been very educational. But I gotta be going. Usually I get some relaxation time after the holiday rush, but not this year. I don’t mind telling you, Eve, I’ve been run ragged with deliveries out to RSF-Z for your dad. Not to mention I’m up till all hours filling out paperwork for the hazmat permits he needs.”

  “What’s RSF-Z?” I said. “What’s hazmat?”

  “RSF-Z is the storage facility the college built for Eve’s dad,” Al said. “And hazmat’s short for ‘hazardous materials.’ If you want to haul certain chemicals, you need a permit from the state.”

  Sophie’s eyes widened. “You mean like dynamite?” Sophie has always liked loud noise and de
struction.

  Al shook his head. “For dynamite, you need an explosives permit, and those are almost impossible to get. Hazmat covers things that aren’t so volatile—things like bleach, or chlorine for a swimming pool.”

  Volatile—there was that word. Where had I just heard it? And what did it mean, again?

  Al was putting on his coat when there was a thump on the porch, and a second later the door opened—right into him.

  It was Officer Krichels. “Oh, sorry! Didn’t see ya there.”

  Al winced and rubbed his face. “No worries. My nose was crooked anyway.”

  In Bub’s living room, Officer Krichels picked up Luau, dropped him on the floor, and sat his long, skinny body down. Luau swished his tail (Oh, yeah?), jumped to the back of the recliner, and lay down behind Officer Krichels’s head. That way he could keep watching his cowboy movie while at the same time batting Officer Krichels in the face with his tail.

  “Nice to see you all,” Officer Krichels said, wiping cat fur from his face. “You’re the new girl, right? Eve? How are ya?”

  Eve said fine, thank you. Then Officer Krichels said, “Where’s Yasmeen?”

  This where’s Yasmeen business was getting old, but luckily Bub explained that she had to practice for choir. In the meantime, I asked Eve if she wanted more soup.

  Eve looked down at her empty bowl. “Oh, wow. I ate all that, didn’t I? I never liked vegetables before.”

  “That’ll happen,” Bub said, because he knows his soup is the best. He was about to say more when his phone rang. It’s an old-fashioned black one, with a bell and everything, so when I say rang I mean rang, and Bub even had to get up out of his chair and walk across the room to answer it.

  Eve stared, then whispered, “Is Bub Amish?”

  Sophie and I cracked up, and Sophie shook her head. “He’s just Bub,” she said.