by Nancy Krulik
I thought for a minute. Front legs? That didn’t make any sense. But then I remembered that flies only have legs. Buzzy must have meant hands.
“What did this person take?” I asked the fly.
“I’m not sure,” he admitted. “It came out of a box on a shelf near the haystack.”
Tut’s box!
“You’re absolutely sure?” I asked him.
“Definitely,” the fly said. “I told you. I never miss a thing.” He did a loop-the-loop in the air.
“Wow!” I exclaimed. “Awesome!”
“That’s nothing,” Buzzy said. “You should see my triple flip.”
“Not your trick,” I said. “What you just said.”
“What did he say?” Elizabeth asked excitedly.
“Buzzy just gave us a clue!” I told her. “And it’s a whopper!”
Chapter 8
“Why are we going back to the red barn again?” I asked Elizabeth a few minutes later.
“For one thing, Mrs. Sloane said we had to see the sheep-shearing demonstration, and they’re going to do that there,” Elizabeth explained. “For another, we need to see if the person Buzzy spotted in the barn left any evidence behind.”
“Then let’s hurry,” I said. “The last thing I need is to be in trouble with Mrs. Sloane. I’m going to be in enough trouble later if I come home without Tut.”
“That won’t happen,” Elizabeth said. She sounded really sure about it.
That made one of us.
The first thing we heard when we got to the barn was Sasha. She was arguing with a farmhand … again.
“Has anyone asked if this sheep wants a haircut?” Sasha asked. “I know I wouldn’t want anyone cutting off my braid without asking me!”
The kids all laughed. They thought Sasha was nuts. You could tell by the way they were rolling their eyes. Trevor was even wiggling his finger around in a circle near his ear, which is the sign for crazy.
But the thing is, Sasha actually wasn’t crazy (for once!). That sheep was definitely complaining.
“Talk about a baaaaad hair day,” he groaned. “I asked the baaarber to take a little off the top. But instead he’s giving me this buzz cut!”
I wanted to start looking for evidence. But before I could, Leo walked over to Elizabeth and me.
“Where have you been, Jack?” he asked.
“Um … uh …” I stammered. “We got lost coming back from the stables.”
I hated lying to my best friend. But what was I supposed to say? “I was talking to a fly about a tortoise"?
“You still solving your mystery?” Leo asked.
“Yeah,” I said. “But—”
“I’ll leave you guys alone.” Leo turned and walked back to the other kids. He looked really bummed.
“He’ll get over it,” Elizabeth said. “But Mia won’t if you don’t find Tut.”
She was right … as usual.
“Tell me again what Buzzy told you,” Elizabeth said.
“He saw a tall human come into the barn, take something from the box, and leave,” I said. “It must have been Roy. He’s taller than the other farmhands.”
“He’s tall, all right,” Elizabeth agreed. “But it doesn’t mean he’s the thief.”
“Why not?” I asked her.
“You have to think like a fly,” Elizabeth told me. “Flies are tiny. Humans all look big to them.”
I frowned. She was right, again. Although …
“Buzzy said this person seemed really angry and was stomping all around,” I remembered aloud.
“Now that’s a good clue.” Elizabeth wrote the words angry and stomping in her notebook. “Stomping,” she said quietly. Then she walked over to where Tut’s box was perched on the shelf.
“What are you doing?” I asked.
“I’m hunting for a clue.” She looked down at the ground.
I looked down, too. Only, I had no idea what I was looking for.
“Well, that settles it,” Elizabeth said finally.
“What settles it?” I asked her.
“Roy’s not the thief,” she told me.
“Of course he is,” I said. “He fits all the descriptions Buzzy gave us.”
“Not all,” Elizabeth disagreed. “Look at these footprints.”
I looked down. All I saw were a bunch of sneaker prints. “So?” I said. “We’re all wearing sneakers. Mrs. Sloane told us to wear sneakers because we were going to be walking a lot.”
“That’s just it,” Elizabeth said. “Most of the kids here are wearing sneakers. But Roy isn’t. He’s wearing cowboy boots. Big, muddy cowboy boots. I don’t see giant boot prints anywhere.”
Wow. Impressive. We didn’t call Elizabeth the Brainiac for nothing. She was one smart detective.
But without Roy, Elizabeth and I were out of suspects. That sheep wasn’t the only one having a baaad day.
Chapter 9
Elizabeth didn’t look happy. But she wasn’t giving up. As soon as the sheep shearing was over, she raced out of the barn to find new clues. I followed.
“Maybe one of the other animals saw something,” Elizabeth whispered. “Like that pony over there.”
I looked in the direction Elizabeth was pointing to see a small, chocolate brown pony nibbling on some oats. Her job was to give rides to any little kids who came to the farm. But since we were big kids, she wasn’t busy. So while the rest of the third graders went off to learn about growing corn, Elizabeth and I snuck over to talk to the pony.
“Excuse me,” I said to her.
“You’re too big,” the pony neighed without even looking up. “No one taller than three feet gets a ride.” She went back to chewing.
“I don’t want a ride,” I said. “I want to know if you saw anyone carrying a tortoise today.”
“Carrying a what?” the pony asked me.
“A tortoise,” I repeated. “You know, with a shell?”
“What’s a shell?” the pony asked.
“This is hopeless,” I told Elizabeth.
Elizabeth was about to put her pen away when the pony started neighing again.
“I did see someone go by,” she told me. “A two-legged animal. But it was holding a rock, not a … what did you call that thing again?”
“Tortoise,” I repeated.
“What’s she saying?” Elizabeth asked me.
“Nothing we can use,” I answered. “Something about someone walking by with a rock.”
“A rock, huh?” Elizabeth began to smile. “Ask her to describe the rock.”
I couldn’t figure out what help that would be. But it seemed really important to Elizabeth. So I asked, “What did the rock look like?”
“It was kind of greenish brown.” The pony looked up for a minute and thought. “And there was something weird about it. There were moving parts.”
“Moving parts?” I repeated.
“Well, it was like it had legs and a tail. I think I saw a head, but then it disappeared,” the pony said. “That’s strange for a rock, don’t you think?”
I began to smile. That rock sounded a whole lot like a tortoise to me! They stick their heads out of their shells, and then pull them right back in again—especially if they’re scared.
“She saw someone with the tortoise!” I said excitedly.
“Great,” Elizabeth said. “Can she describe the person?”
Oh yeah. That would help.
“What did the person who was carrying the tort—I mean the rock—look like?” I asked the pony.
“About your height,” the pony whinnied. “And wearing a hat.”
Oh man. That could be anyone in the third grade.
“The human was ready for a show,” the pony continued. “I could tell because of its tail.”
I shook my head at Elizabeth. “This pony is nuts.”
“Excuse you?” the pony said. “You asked a question and I answered. You don’t have to be mean.”
Oops. I’d forgotten the pony could under
stand me even when I wasn’t talking to her.
“I’m sorry,” I said. “Thanks for your help.”
As Elizabeth and I walked away, I whispered, “You’re not going to believe this.”
“What?” Elizabeth asked.
“She said the person carrying Tut was going to a horse show,” I explained. “She could tell because of its tail. What kind of person has a tail?”
“I don’t know,” Elizabeth admitted. “But we’ll figure it out. We just have to think like a pony.”
Suddenly, I heard a loud gurgling noise. But it wasn’t coming from an animal. It was my stomach.
“Let’s go to the picnic area,” I told Elizabeth. “I’ll think better on a full stomach.”
Not that I really believed that. I could eat all day long and I’d probably never figure out which of us third graders was actually hiding a tail. I didn’t believe that kind of person even existed.
But up until a few weeks before, I hadn’t believed people could talk to animals, either. So anything was possible. Anything.
Chapter 10
Leo was sitting by himself near a tree when Elizabeth and I got to the picnic area.
“Where have you been?” he asked me angrily. “You keep disappearing.”
“We’ve been trying to find Tut,” I explained as I took out my peanut butter and jelly sandwich.
“Whatever,” Leo grumbled. He went back to eating his cheese sandwich.
“Um … Jack … can I talk to you for a minute?” Elizabeth asked. She looked over at Leo. “In private,” she added.
“Go ahead,” Leo told me. “Your partner is calling you.”
The way Leo said partner sounded a lot like Trevor the Terrible—especially when he called Elizabeth and me kissy faces. That made me feel even more rotten, which I didn’t think was possible.
“Leo’s really mad at you,” Elizabeth said as soon as we were alone.
Duh. “You think?” I asked her sarcastically.
“He was mad when you found Tut in your backpack, too, wasn’t he?” Elizabeth asked.
“Yeah,” I said. “We were both mad at Mia.”
“No,” Elizabeth corrected me. “You were mad at Mia. Leo was mad that you had a tortoise in your backpack. Do you think he was mad enough to take the tortoise?”
“That’s ridiculous,” I said. “Leo’s my best friend.”
“And your field-trip buddy,” Elizabeth agreed. “He was really looking forward to this trip. Do you think he was worried having Tut here would ruin things?”
I thought about that. Leo had been kind of upset when I said I was worried about leaving Tut behind. But that didn’t mean anything.
“That can’t be right,” I said. “Now that Tut’s missing, Leo’s having an even worse time.”
“Maybe he didn’t think ahead about what would happen after he took Tut,” Elizabeth said. “Lots of people don’t think about stuff like that—especially when they’re angry.”
I frowned. Elizabeth wasn’t one of those people. She always thought of everything. So she was kind of saying Leo wasn’t as smart as her—without actually saying it. Sometimes the Brainiac could be a real Painiac.
Which was why I was doubly happy to be able to prove to her that she was wrong. “Why isn’t he giving Tut back now then?” I asked.
“Because he’s madder than ever,” Elizabeth said. “He gets jealous when we work on a case together.”
That was true, even though I didn’t like hearing Elizabeth say it out loud.
But deep down, I knew Leo would never steal Tut. No matter how mad he was, Leo was no crook.
“It can’t be him. He doesn’t have a tail,” I pointed out.
“No,” Elizabeth agreed. “But he does have a keychain collection hanging from his backpack. That could sort of look like a tail—to an animal, anyway.”
Man, she was smart.
“Think, Jack,” Elizabeth asked me. “Were you and Leo ever apart before Tut disappeared?”
“Well, he did go to the bathroom just before we went to the reptile room,” I said slowly.
Then I frowned, remembering what Leo had said just before we separated for those few minutes: Sounds like a plan. It’s always important to have a plan.
I gulped. Could Leo’s plan have been to kidnap Tut?
“I think we need to ask Leo a few questions,” Elizabeth said.
“Um … maybe we need to find a few more clues to see if there’s anyone else who could have done it,” I suggested.
“You’re stalling,” Elizabeth said. “You don’t want to interrogate Leo.”
Now I wasn’t just hungry. I was mad. But not at Leo. At Elizabeth. She just didn’t get it. “That’s right,” I told her angrily. “I don’t want to accuse my best friend of doing something this mean. Especially because I don’t think he did it!”
Elizabeth stared at me and twirled one of her red, wormy hair curls around her finger. I thought she was going to cry.
But instead she said, “Okay. Go talk to more animals. See what they tell you. And then, when you find out that I’m right, talk to Leo.”
I can’t stand when Elizabeth acts like a know-it-all—even though she does pretty much know it all.
But she was wrong this time. It couldn’t be Leo. No way.
Or could it?
Chapter 11
I had to prove Elizabeth wrong. I had to find someone who might have seen the person who stole Tut. So while everyone else ate their lunches, I searched for someone who could clear my friend.
The petting zoo was close to the barn, the bathroom, and the reptile room. If Leo had passed by with Mia’s tortoise, one of the baby animals might have seen him. But I really hoped they hadn’t.
“You want to play tag?”
As I stepped into the petting zoo, a small voice called up to me from the ground. I looked down. There were three yellow baby chicks.
“We love tag,” one chick told me.
“It’s our favorite game,” another added.
“Tag! You’re it!” The third chick pecked at my leg and ran off.
“Come on,” the first chick said. “You’ve been tagged. Now you run. That’s the game.”
“I’m not here to play,” I said. “I’m trying to find out if my friend passed by here today. Maybe you saw him. He’s smaller than me, with curly hair, and—”
“Does he play tag?” the first chick asked. (At least I thought it was the first chick. It was hard to tell because they kept moving around.)
“Tag! You’re it!” a chick said.
“No, you’re it!” another chick shouted, pecking him back.
I frowned. There was no way these chicks were going to be any help.
But I wasn’t giving up. I had to talk to someone—anyone—in the petting zoo who might be able to clear my best friend’s name. This was one time I really, really wanted the Brainiac to be wrong.
“Excuse me,” I said to a goat who was sticking his nose through the gate, trying to reach the garbage can. “Can I ask you something?”
“What?” the goat asked. He nudged his nose toward my backpack.
I knew exactly what he was up to. I also knew it wasn’t going to do him any good. My lunch wasn’t in my backpack anymore.
“I don’t have any food,” I told him.
The goat pulled his head back. “Bummer. That one kid had a tuna sandwich.”
“Kid?” I asked. “You mean like a baby goat?”
“No, I mean a kid like you,” he said. “We’re both kids, aren’t we?”
I’d never thought of it like that. “I guess so,” I said.
“That’s why I didn’t feel bad about taking that tuna sandwich,” the goat continued. “When it comes to us kids, it’s share and share alike.”
“Tuna sandwich?” I repeated.
The goat nodded. “It wasn’t very good. Really stale. I think it was in the backpack for a long time.”
Oh no. That was bad. Really bad. Leo always left part of
his lunch in his backpack. Sometimes for days. One time I saw him pull out a piece of bread that was so old it had purple and blue mold growing all over it.
“Did you happen to notice if the kid with the sandwich was carrying anything?” I asked. “Like maybe a rock with a head and four legs?”
The goat looked at me like I was crazy. “There’s no rock like that,” he told me.
“But the pony said …” I began. Then I stopped. “Oh, never mind.”
“This kid was carrying something, I think,” the goat said. “But it was under his shirt. I couldn’t tell what it was. He seemed kind of nervous, too. His eyes were darting all around.”
I wasn’t surprised. The thing under his shirt had probably been a tortoise. And a thief would be nervous. Really nervous.
“There was something weird,” the goat continued. “You two-leggeds have a very distinct smell. But so do horses. And this kid smelled like a horse.”
A kid who smelled like a horse. Oh man. Leo had been brushing his horse at the stable. That would make him smell like a horse. Which meant Elizabeth was right. All the clues pointed to one person. My best friend, Leo.
Make that my soon-to-be ex-best friend.
Elizabeth was waiting for me at the edge of the picnic area when I got back.
“So?” she asked.
I frowned. “You were right,” I said. “Leo’s the tortoise-napper.” I filled her in on all the clues the goat had given me.
I figured Elizabeth would act all know-it-all when I told her she was right. But she didn’t. In fact, she looked kind of sad.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I was almost hoping I was wrong.”
So was I. And not almost.
But Elizabeth wasn’t wrong. And now I had to accuse my best friend of stealing Mia’s tortoise.
“Let’s go talk to him,” Elizabeth said.
“No,” I told her. “I’ll do this alone. I’ll meet you back at the barn when I’m done.”
Elizabeth gave me a funny look. “Are you sure?”
I wasn’t sure of anything—except that I didn’t want Elizabeth getting all detective-like with Leo. That would just make him madder. I wanted to interrogate him my way.
