The Spy Who Came North from the Pole

by Mary Elise Monsell

  Books by Mary Elise Monsell

  Crackle Creek

  The Mysterious Cases of Mr. Pin

  Mr. Pin: The Chocolate Files

  Armadillo

  Toohy and Wood

  The Spy Who Came North from the Pole:

  Mr. Pin, Vol. III

  The Spy Who Came North from the Pole

  Mary Elise Monsell

  “With high regards to David and Derek, who know how to keep their fingers on the seams.” —Mr. Pin

  Contents

  The Spy Who Came North from the Pole

  The Spitter Pitchers

  The Spy Who Came North from the Pole

  1

  The sky was dark. The air was cold and foggy. It had been days since a rock hopper penguin had left the South Pole and made his way north to Chicago.

  A black wing pulled the bus cord at Wabash Street. The driver watched as the penguin stepped into the fog. Strange. He thought that penguin looked familiar.

  “Mind your step,” the driver said. The penguin snarled back.

  The door creaked shut and the bus headed west. The rock hopper headed north.

  He was mostly black and white, with long yellow plumes on both sides of his head. He carried a mysterious brown bag under his wing.

  Suddenly an elevated train screeched to a stop. A tall man in a trench coat came up to the railing and tossed a small box over the side. As the train screeched away, the rock hopper picked up the box. There was chocolate inside.

  “Frango mints!” he said out loud. He took a magnifying glass out of his brown bag and looked more closely. There was a note inside the box. The rock hopper quickly ate the chocolates, then read the note:

  CODEBOOKCLUEIN GARGOYLE

  He got the idea all right. The clue he was looking for was hidden in a gargoyle. Now he just needed to find the right one. But where? Those strange carved-stone creatures were on buildings all over the city. Not only that, but they were usually up very high. And penguins don’t fly.

  It was also a little strange that the clue to the whereabouts of the codebook was in a gargoyle to begin with. But in any case, his plan seemed to be working.

  “Looks like I arrived in Chicago just in time,” he said out loud.

  Just ahead was a diner—Smiling Sally’s Good Food. The penguin outside saw another penguin sitting in a booth near the window. I wonder, thought the rock hopper, what would have happened if that penguin had seen this box first?

  “Too late,” he said out loud again. “But on the other hand, maybe he should see it … or one almost like it.”

  With sinister plans forming in his mind, the rock hopper penguin chuckled softly to himself, turned away from the diner, and disappeared into the fog. A moment later the lights in Smiling Sally’s Diner went out.

  2

  It was foggy again the next day. The thick, wet air rolled down the sidewalks like sleepwalking ghosts. It would have been a day to be inside Smiling Sally’s warm and friendly diner. But Mr. Pin and Maggie were somewhere else.

  The two detectives were on the second floor of an old warehouse. They were looking for new stools for Smiling Sally’s Diner. The warehouse belonged to Maggie’s uncle Otis, who lived on the top floor. He sold an odd assortment of things that he rescued from buildings about to be torn down.

  Maggie and Mr. Pin stood between a row of iron fences and old bathtubs with feet. Next to the fences and bathtubs were rows and rows of pillars, carved doors, marble fireplaces, stained-glass windows, restaurant booths, stools, sinks, doorknobs, hinges, and even staircases. Inside each bathtub was a gargoyle.

  “This place is spooky,” said Maggie as she looked at the peculiar expressions on the gargoyles’ faces. “It’s weird seeing old bathtubs all lined up and no one around to take a bath. And what are these things? They look like monsters.”

  “They’re gargoyles,” said Mr. Pin. “Some gargoyles look like monsters. Some just look like animals. You’ve seen them decorating old buildings, sometimes at the very top.”

  “I don’t know how Otis can live here,” said Maggie.

  The knotted floorboards creaked.

  Maggie shivered. “We should get the diner stools for Sally and go home. This place is giving me nightmares, and I’m not even asleep yet.”

  A low, groaning rumble shook the building. An elevator shuddered as it was lowered slowly down the shaft at the end of the row of bathtubs. A grated door opened, and a short, balding man wearing a striped vest stepped out.

  “Uncle Otis!” shouted Maggie. “I’m glad to see you. Any minute now I was sure I was going to see a ghost.”

  “Hasn’t been one here for a few months,” said Uncle Otis. Only half of his mouth turned up in a smile.

  “This is Mr. Pin,” said Maggie.

  “Detective Pin. Reasonable rates,” said the rock hopper penguin, tipping his checked cap.

  Crash!!

  “What was that?” asked Otis.

  “A ghost!” cried Maggie.

  “No,” said Mr. Pin, darting between columns. “Someone dropped a gargoyle.”

  “A thief?” asked Otis.

  “I don’t know,” said Mr. Pin.

  “I thought I heard breathing before, and it wasn’t ours,” said Maggie.

  Maggie and Otis rushed over to where Mr. Pin was examining an odd-shaped stone face that had been broken into several pieces.

  “What is it?” asked Maggie.

  “It used to be a gargoyle,” said Mr. Pin.

  “So where’s the thief now?” asked Otis.

  “A thief is only one possibility,” corrected Mr. Pin.

  But just then they heard running footsteps. A dark figure stepped into the elevator.

  “Over there!” said Mr. Pin, pointing with his wing. They ran to the elevator, but it was too late. The door had squeaked shut.

  “We’ll take the stairs,” directed Mr. Pin. The two detectives raced down the steep stairs, followed more slowly by Uncle Otis. They made it to the first floor just in time to see someone very short step through the fog and onto a waiting bus. Maggie and Mr. Pin watched as the driver, who was wearing a trench coat, pulled the bus away from the curb.

  He was getting away!

  Mr. Pin held up his wing to signal for a cab speeding around the corner. The cab screeched to a stop. Mr. Pin and Maggie climbed in.

  “Follow that bus,” said Mr. Pin to the driver.

  “Sure, mister. No problem.”

  “I’ve never seen a bus driver wearing a trench coat,” said Maggie.

  “Interesting,” said Mr. Pin. “Not only that, but I think the driver was actually waiting for whoever it was who smashed the gargoyle.”

  The bus zigzagged north, then east toward the lake.

  “Strange bus route,” said the driver.

  “Strange,” said Maggie. “I think that bus has only one passenger.”

  “That is a strange bus,” said Mr. Pin. “But we’d better hurry. It’s headed toward the bridge.”

  “Sure,” said the cabdriver.

  The taxi stayed close, but the bus was fast and the fog was thick.

  “The drawbridge is going up!” shouted Maggie as they reached the Chicago River.

  “I might just make it,” said the driver.

  “Not necessary,” said Mr. Pin. And the taxi squealed to a stop just short of the rising bridge. The bus had made it over just in time.

  “Whew! Thank goodness we stopped,” said Maggie.

  “Say, mister …,” said the driver.

  “Mr. Pin,” corrected the rock hopper.

  “And I’m Maggie.”

  “I’m Gus,” said the driver. “Glad to meet you. Say, wh
en the bridge comes down, do you want me to keep going, or can I take you somewhere else?”

  “Somewhere else, please. We’ve lost the bus,” said Mr. Pin. “Smiling Sally’s Diner on Monroe.”

  “I know the place. Food’s good, and you meet interesting people,” said Gus.

  “I live there,” said Mr. Pin.

  “You do? Say, you must be the famous rock hopper penguin detective Mister … uh … Pen.”

  “Pin.”

  “Is Pen short for pencil?”

  “No,” said Mr. Pin. “Pin is just short, Gus.”

  “Like penguins, Mr. Pen?”

  “Pin.”

  “Right. Well,” Gus went on, “I guess this ride is on me. No charge. Just like Smiling Sally always says, no reason why big cities can’t have big hearts. Right, Pen?”

  “Right. And thanks, Ges.”

  3

  Back at the diner, Maggie, Mr. Pin, and the taxi driver named Gus were all trying to explain to Smiling Sally what had happened when the two detectives had gone to buy diner stools from Uncle Otis.

  “First it was spooky,” said Maggie. “Then it got really spooky. Then Uncle Otis showed up.”

  “Did he help you find some nice stools for the diner, dear?” asked Smiling Sally, passing around fresh cinnamon rolls.

  “He didn’t have a chance,” said Maggie. “You see, that was when we found the gargoyle.”

  “I don’t think I really want a gargoyle,” said Sally.

  “Anyway, it was broken,” said Maggie.

  “Oh dear,” said Sally. “Was it valuable?”

  “Could be,” said Mr. Pin. “We don’t know yet. But that was when we heard footsteps.”

  “Footsteps?”

  “Right,” said Maggie. “At first I thought it was a ghost. But it was really the thief who escaped in the elevator and took over a bus.”

  “It might be a thief,” corrected Mr. Pin.

  “A ghost took over the bus?” asked Sally.

  “No, the gargoyle smasher,” said Maggie.

  Mr. Pin was about to talk, but his beak was full of cinnamon roll.

  “That’s where I came in,” said Gus.

  “On the bus?” asked Sally.

  “No,” said Maggie. “Gus helped us follow the bus to the river. But the bridge went up and the thief got away.”

  “Mightfft mbe a thmief,” said Mr. Pin. He tried to explain, but the cinnamon roll was making his beak stick together.

  Suddenly the diner door swung open. It looked like the whole defensive line of the Chicago Bears had just walked in. But it was just Sergeant O’Malley, a large policeman who liked to eat in the diner.

  “Pin,” he roared. “We’re going to need your help.” He strode over to a tray of cinnamon rolls and ate while he talked.

  “Three gargoyles have fallen from buildings in this city, and the police are baffled.”

  “Baffled?” asked Mr. Pin, dabbing his beak with a napkin.

  “Baffled,” repeated O’Malley. “These gargoyles didn’t fall by themselves. So far, no one has gotten hurt. But it could be dangerous.”

  “Hmmmm,” said Mr. Pin. “Someone in Chicago must not like gargoyles.”

  “How’s that?”

  “Someone broke a gargoyle today in my uncle’s warehouse,” put in Maggie.

  “Is that right?” said O’Malley.

  “Looks like there’s a gargoyle problem in this city,” said Gus.

  Mr. Pin nodded.

  “One more thing,” said O’Malley. “We found a chocolate box near the scene of one of the crimes. Thought you might be interested.”

  “Chocolate is always interesting,” said Mr. Pin.

  “The chocolate box was empty, and there were no fingerprints. Here, take a look.”

  “Too bad about the chocolate,” said Mr. Pin as he took the box with one wing.

  “We’re on the case,” said Maggie.

  “Thanks,” said O’Malley.

  The sergeant left as suddenly as he had come in. Gus said he had to get back to his cab. That left Maggie to do her homework while Sally watched the diner. Mr. Pin went into his back room with the empty box of chocolate.

  The penguin detective looked at the box closely. He held it up to his beak. Then, very carefully using tweezers, he removed what looked like a small speck of chocolate. He set the speck on a small glass slide and put it under a microscope. Cocking his head to one side, he adjusted the focus, then peered through the lens. Much to his surprise, he saw a secret message written in brown ink!

  4

  It was foggy again the next morning, and Mr. Pin had to think. He sat alone on a stool in Smiling Sally’s with a plate of chocolate-chip pancakes.

  Someone was going around the city smashing gargoyles. But why? And why was there only part of a message written inside an empty box of chocolate? It wasn’t much to go on. But if he went back to the scene of the first crime, he might find a clue he had missed before. It was time to visit Uncle Otis.

  Mr. Pin was about to look for Maggie when she came leaping down the back stairs, two at a time, red hair flying in all directions. Maggie had a way of not missing much.

  “So where are we going today?” asked Maggie, watching Mr. Pin put on his red muffler and checked cap.

  “Back to the warehouse,” said Mr. Pin. “To look for more clues.”

  “Right,” said Maggie. “It’s a good thing I don’t have school today.” Maggie was about to ask Mr. Pin what the first clue was when Sally handed her a pancake sandwich (pancake on the outside, eggs on the inside) and a jacket. Then Maggie followed Mr. Pin out the door.

  Otis seemed to be waiting for them at the warehouse. Although Maggie had her own key, her uncle was already at the door.

  “He was here again!” said Maggie’s uncle, wheezing as they rode upstairs in the creaking elevator.

  “Who was here?” asked Maggie.

  “The thief,” said Otis.

  “I don’t think it was a thief,” said Mr. Pin.

  “Anyway,” said Otis, “he was short and dark, and he smashed another gargoyle.”

  “I wonder why he doesn’t like gargoyles?” said Maggie.

  “Mind if I look around?” asked Mr. Pin as Otis pulled open the elevator door.

  “Not at all,” said Otis.

  Mr. Pin opened his black bag and removed a pair of gloves.

  Bzzzzzzz!!

  “That’s the door buzzer,” said Otis.

  While Otis rode the elevator back downstairs, Mr. Pin stooped down, picked something up off the floor, and put it into a plastic bag. He put the plastic bag into his black bag. Then he heard the rumble of the elevator again.

  “Okay, Pin. What’s going on?” It sounded like half of the Bears football team again, but it was just O’Malley, red-faced and sweating. O’Malley went on: “Another gargoyle was smashed late last night. Someone says that you were seen running from the scene of the crime. I don’t understand how a crime-solving rock hopper could go so wrong, but now it’s all beginning to make sense. Especially since we found another empty box of chocolate near the scene of the crime.”

  Mr. Pin thought about this. The shadowy figure that had escaped the warehouse and leaped onto the bus had been very short. Mr. Pin was about to suggest that he could not possibly have been in two places at once, but Maggie spoke first:

  “Mr. Pin isn’t the gargoyle smasher. He’s trying to find the gargoyle smasher. In fact—”

  “I can’t believe it either,” roared O’Malley, breaking in. “That’s why I’m giving you twenty-four hours to prove I’m wrong. But in any case, you’re off the case. And here’s your box of chocolate.”

  Maggie and Otis stared in disbelief as O’Malley tossed Mr. Pin another empty box, then stormed out of the warehouse. Strangely enough, Mr. Pin didn’t look surprised. All he said was: “This could be exactly what I was looking for.”

  5

  Late that night Maggie and Mr. Pin sat in his back room, looking at three empty c
hocolate boxes. Mr. Pin lined them up on his desk next to a microscope. A single light bulb dangling from the ceiling swung gently whenever the elevated train on Wabash went by.

  “Just empty boxes of chocolate,” said Maggie.

  “Not quite,” said Mr. Pin. “There’s a clue in each one.” Mr. Pin took out a pair of tweezers from his black bag. He held each box very carefully with gloves.

  “I don’t want to disturb any fingerprints,” Mr. Pin said. “But I don’t think I’ll find any.” Maggie watched as Mr. Pin removed what looked like a speck of chocolate from two of the boxes. Then he placed the two specks on microscope slides.

  “I’ve already made a slide from the first box,” explained Mr. Pin.

  He held another slide up to his beak and said, “It looks like chocolate, but it isn’t. That’s probably why no one thought it was important.” Then he put the slide under the microscope lens.

  “Now take a look at this,” he said.

  “Wow!” said Maggie. “There’s a message. It says: IN GARGOYLE.”

  “Right,” said Mr. Pin. “That was from the first box O’Malley gave me in the diner. Now read this one.”

  “CODEBOOK CLUE!” shouted Maggie.

  “Now put the two messages together,” said Mr. Pin.

  “CODEBOOK CLUE IN GARGOYLE,” said Maggie, reading the message. “Holy cow! Do you mean that …?”

  “Exactly,” said Mr. Pin. “The gargoyle smasher is probably a spy. Who else would be looking for a codebook? Maybe even a government codebook.”

  “Which is hidden in a gargoyle.”

  “Not quite,” explained Mr. Pin. “A clue, perhaps the most important clue, was hidden in a gargoyle. But no more.”

  “Why is that?” asked Maggie.

  “The spy kept breaking gargoyles to find the last clue,” said Mr. Pin. “If I’m not mistaken, that’s the one O’Malley just found and gave to me at the warehouse. The spy found it, then put it in this chocolate box.” Mr. Pin put a new slide under the lens and pointed with his wing for Maggie to look. “This is the clue,” he said.