Turkey Trot Plot

by Carolyn Keene

  “Mayor Strong,” Anna said, her eyebrows furrowed. “I’m afraid there will be no chocolate turkey for the winners.”

  Confused whispers filled the air. Nancy, Bess, and George looked at each other with surprise. Did they just hear what they thought they heard?

  “No chocolate turkey?” Mayor Strong asked. “Why not?”

  “Because, Mayor Strong,” Anna declared, “it’s gone!”

  PRANKS-GIVING

  Confused whispers became gasps. Nancy turned to Bess and George. “How could the chocolate turkey be gone?” she cried. “We just saw it yesterday!”

  Mayor Strong raised both hands to quiet the crowd. Anna leaned in to the microphone to explain. . . .

  “I got to my store this morning at nine o’clock,” Anna explained. “The chocolate turkey was on its pedestal, wrapped and ready for the Turkey Trot.”

  “Yes? And?” Mayor Strong urged.

  “A bit later I went to the back room to check an order,” Anna went on. “When I came back, the chocolate turkey was nowhere in the store!”

  Mayor Strong forced a smile and said, “No worries, Ms. Epicure. Surely you can present the winner with another chocolate masterpiece.”

  “I’m afraid that’s impossible, Mayor,” Anna said, holding out the magazines. “Instead please take two past issues of Bon-Bon Vivant magazine, autographed by me.”

  The kids groaned with disappointment. Anna turned to them with a frown. “Oh, boo-hoo,” she said. “If it weren’t for you kids, my turkey wouldn’t be missing.”

  “I’m afraid I don’t understand, Anna,” Mayor Strong said. “What do the kids have to do with the missing turkey?”

  “I allowed too many children into my store yesterday to admire the chocolate turkey,” Anna explained. “I’m almost sure it gave them ideas.”

  “Did you hear that?” George asked Nancy and Bess. “Anna thinks a kid stole the turkey!”

  Anna turned toward her store. Before walking in, she flipped over a sign dangling from the doorknob. It read, NO CHILDREN ALLOWED.

  “No kids allowed?” a girl in the crowd shouted after Anna slammed the door shut.

  “That’s not fair!” a boy exclaimed.

  Nancy agreed. It wasn’t fair. When everyone calmed down, Mayor Strong announced the winner of the costume contest. It was four girls dressed as turkey ballerinas.

  The feathered ballerinas accepted their issues of Bon-Bon Vivant magazine with strained smiles. Nancy, Bess, and George quietly slipped out of the crowd.

  “How can such a big chocolate turkey just disappear?” Bess asked.

  “I know how,” George said. “Someone came into the store while Anna was in the back and took it.”

  “But who?” Nancy wondered.

  “ ‘Who’ rhymes with ‘clue,’ ” Bess said. She tapped her chin thoughtfully and smiled. “Hmm. Could this be another case for the Clue Crew?”

  Nancy pulled her clue book from a small cross-body bag. “Does this answer your question?” she asked. “Even if a kid did take the turkey, it’s not fair for Anna to blame all the kids.”

  “If we find the person who took the chocolate turkey,” George said, “maybe we can talk Anna into letting kids back into the store.”

  “What’s a candy store without kids?” Bess asked.

  Nancy, Bess, and George walked to a bench and sat down. Nancy opened her clue book to a clean page. She pulled out a pen with purple ink to draw a picture of the chocolate turkey. Next to that she drew a question mark.

  “Let’s start with a timeline,” Nancy said. “When do you think the chocolate turkey went missing?”

  “Anna said it was there this morning when she got to the store at nine o’clock,” George told them. “Then she left for a bit, and it was gone when she came back.”

  “We got to the finish line at about ten thirty,” Nancy pointed out. “So the chocolate turkey had to disappear between nine and that time.”

  Nancy wrote the time line in her clue book. She then looked up and said, “Should we start a suspect list or look for clues?”

  “Let’s look for clues inside Classy Coco,” George said.

  “How?” Bess asked. “Anna won’t allow kids in the store.”

  “She can’t keep us from looking in,” George said with a grin. After leading the way to Classy Coco, George kneeled outside the door. She leaned forward to peek through the mail slot.

  “Rats!” George grumbled.

  “Rats?!” Bess gasped. “You see rats in the store?!”

  “No, Bess,” George said. “All I can see is the floor.”

  “But do you see anything on the floor?” Nancy asked.

  “Actually I do!” George said, still looking. “I see feathers. One blue and two green.”

  “I didn’t see feathers on the floor yesterday,” Nancy said.

  “Are they turkey feathers, George?” Bess asked. “Or hen feathers, chicken feathers, pigeon feathers—”

  “Who knows, Bess?” George answered. “They’re just feathers.”

  “But it’s an awesome clue, George,” Nancy said. “The Choco Chewers were wearing collars with blue and green feathers.”

  “The club didn’t think their costumes would win,” George pointed out. “Maybe they came up with another way to get the chocolate turkey.”

  “A bad way,” Bess added.

  A few kids stopped to stare at George by the mail slot, so the girls decided to leave. Nancy started the suspect list with the Choco Chewers Club. But Bess wasn’t so sure . . .

  “I didn’t see a Choco Chewer holding a big bag at the Turkey Trot,” Bess said. “Where else would they stash a stolen chocolate turkey?”

  “Maybe one of the club members took off with the turkey,” George said. “It’s not like we did a Choco Chewers head count.”

  The mention of a big bag had made Nancy’s eyes light up. “We saw Shelby on Main Street carrying a big bag,” she blurted.

  “Shelby wanted her chocolate fondue to be perfect,” George reminded them.

  “Her hat had feathers in it too,” Bess said. “But I can’t remember what colors.”

  Nancy tapped her chin with the top of her pen. It always helped her think. “So if a fondue is a pot of melted chocolate,” she said, “maybe Shelby’s fondue is a melted chocolate turkey!”

  “From Classy Coco!” George added. “Write Shelby’s name, Nancy.”

  “Don’t, Nancy,” Bess said. “Shelby is our friend!”

  “I know, Bess,” Nancy said. “But as my dad says, even friends can make mistakes.”

  Nancy added Shelby’s name to the suspect list. She then shut her clue book and said, “I have to go home and help with Thanksgiving dinner. I’m in charge of decorating the pumpkin pie.”

  “Let’s meet Friday to work on this case,” George said.

  “I’ll bring my clue book,” Nancy promised.

  “And some leftover pumpkin pie, please!” Bess giggled.

  When Nancy got home, Hannah Gruen already had the pie ingredients on the counter. Hannah was the Drews’ housekeeper, but she was much more like a mother to Nancy. She made sure Nancy did her homework, brushed her teeth, and ate healthy foods. And since pumpkins were a vegetable—pumpkin pie made the cut!

  “Fill the pie crust to the top, Nancy,” Hannah directed, “and try not to let it drip over the sides.”

  Nancy’s chocolate Labrador puppy, Chocolate Chip, watched hungrily as Nancy spooned pumpkin filling into the crust. But her mind was filled with thoughts of the Clue Crew’s new case. Who took the chocolate turkey from Classy Coco?

  “I have two suspects so far,” Nancy said. “Two is good, but the Clue Crew likes to have three.”

  Mr. Drew was at the oven checking on the turkey. “I have a favor to ask, Nancy,” he said, peeking through the glass oven door.

  “Do you need me to grate cheese for the broccoli casserole, Daddy?” Nancy asked.

  Mr. Drew smiled and said, “I need you to please not disc
uss your new case anymore tonight. Our guests, Mr. and Mrs. Diaz, might want to talk about something else.”

  “Like football.” Hannah chuckled. “The Diazes love football.”

  “Oh,” Nancy said.

  “So what do you think, Nancy?” Mr. Drew asked. “Even detectives need a break once in a while. Deal?”

  Nancy gave it some thought. Her dad was a lawyer and often helped her with the Clue Crew’s cases. But she had already told him and Hannah everything there was to know about the missing chocolate turkey. So—

  “Deal!” Nancy declared.

  “Are you sure you can do it, Detective Drew?” Hannah teased.

  “Watch me, Hannah!” Nancy said with a smile.

  “And by the way,” Hannah said, “Mr. Diaz has a nut allergy, so I didn’t buy walnuts for the pumpkin pie garnish.”

  “What do we use instead, Hannah?” Nancy asked.

  “Marshmallows,” Hannah said, holding up a bag of mini marshmallows, “shaped like little fall leaves!”

  Chip barked her approval. Nancy liked them too. “Perfect!” she declared.

  Nancy was about to add another spoon of pumpkin when she remembered the Minty Martian hot chocolate with green marshmallows. And something else . . .

  Omigosh, Nancy thought. Henderson Murphy!

  CHOCO-NO-NO

  Nancy kept spooning as her head spun with thoughts of Henderson. . . .

  Anna had said not-so-nice things about Henderson’s dad’s hot chocolate, Nancy thought, and he said he’d show her!

  What did Henderson mean by that? Did he mean he’d take Anna’s prize chocolate turkey to get even?

  “Nancy, the pie crust!” Hannah called.

  “Huh?” Nancy glanced down to see pumpkin oozing over the pastry crust. She had been so focused on Henderson, she’d forgotten about the pie!

  “Something on your mind, Nancy?” Mr. Drew asked.

  Nancy looked up from the messy counter. Telling her dad about Henderson would mean breaking their deal.

  “Um, no, Daddy,” Nancy said. “Could you please pass the suspect—I mean—paper towels?”

  Oops! Nancy knew she’d promised not to talk about her case. But she didn’t promise not to think about it!

  • • •

  “I should have taped the Thanksgiving Parade on TV yesterday morning,” Bess said. “I heard that the Ginger Girls sang ‘Ship of Love’—on a real live pirate ship float!”

  Nancy smiled. The Ginger Girls was one of their favorite singing groups.

  “We were too busy Turkey Trotting yesterday morning to enjoy the parade.” George groaned. “My neck still itches from all those feathers!”

  “But thanks to the Turkey Trot,” Nancy said, “we have a brand-new mystery to solve!”

  It was Friday morning. The Clue Crew was walking to the park to discuss their case. Nancy had already shared some leftover pumpkin pie with her friends. She had also shared her thoughts on Henderson Murphy.

  “Would Henderson really take a chocolate turkey from a fancy store?” George asked.

  “Well, there’s only one way to find out,” Bess told her.

  The girls stopped at the sound of the Mr. Drippy truck. It was parked near the park’s main gate.

  “Henderson usually rides with his dad when there’s no school,” Nancy said. “Let’s ask Mr. Murphy where he was yesterday morning during the Turkey Trot.”

  But when the girls looked for Henderson, his dad shook his head. “I’m afraid Henderson is home in bed, girls,” he said. “He got sick yesterday.”

  Nancy was about to ask about Henderson when a boy and girl rushed up to the truck window.

  “One cup of Minty Martian, please!” the boy said.

  “Make that two,” the girl said excitedly.

  “Two Minty Martians, coming right up!” Mr. Murphy said. As he got busy pouring hot chocolate, the Clue Crew walked away from the truck.

  “I wonder why Henderson is sick,” Bess said.

  “He probably has a stomachache,” George said. “Too much Thanksgiving turkey.”

  Turkey? Nancy stopped walking, her eyes lighting up.

  “Too much Thanksgiving turkey?” Nancy asked slowly. “Or too much chocolate turkey?”

  YODEL-AY-EE-CLUE!

  “What do you mean, Nancy?” Bess asked.

  “What does the missing turkey have to do with Henderson being sick?” George wanted to know.

  “If Henderson did take the chocolate turkey,” Nancy said, “maybe he ate it to destroy the evidence.”

  “A whole chocolate turkey?” Bess said, wrinkling her nose. “That’s too much even for me.”

  “It might be the reason why Henderson got sick,” Nancy said.

  “What about the feathers we saw in Classy Coco?” George asked. “If Henderson wasn’t in the Turkey Trot, how could they be from him?”

  “I don’t know,” Nancy admitted as she scribbled the new discovery in her clue book. “That’s why we have to go to the Murphy house and talk to Henderson.”

  “Nuh-uh!” George exclaimed. “What if he hurls all over us? He might have a stomachache, remember?”

  “We’ll go later, when he’s feeling better,” Nancy suggested. “In the meantime let’s investigate Shelby at the Pixie Scout International Food Fest. It’s today, and we have to check out her chocolate fondue.”

  “How will we know if the melted chocolate in her fondue pot is the melted chocolate turkey?” Bess asked.

  “We already tasted the chocolate turkey,” Nancy pointed out. “Now we have to taste the melted chocolate in Shelby’s pot to see if it’s a match.”

  “Tasting chocolate?” George said with a grin. “I am so loving this case!”

  “How do we know what time the Food Fest is,” Bess asked, “and where it’s being held?”

  “I looked it up online last night,” George said. “It’s at one o’clock today in the school gym. There’s just one problem.”

  “What?” Nancy asked.

  “It’s for Pixie Scouts and their families only,” George said. “How will we get in?”

  “Too bad we don’t have Pixie Scout uniforms,” Bess said. “They’d let us in then.”

  “Maybe we don’t need uniforms,” George said. “Maybe the Pixie Scouts will be wearing costumes from other countries like Shelby.”

  “So where do we get costumes from other countries?” Nancy wanted to know.

  “From my mom,” George said. “She has a bunch of international hats from a party she catered last year.”

  “I love hats!” Bess said excitedly.

  “I love that idea,” Nancy said with a smile. “Thanks, George. It might work!”

  • • •

  “Remind me what I’m supposed to be,” George whispered, adjusting the round black hat on her head.

  “You’re a gaucho, George,” Nancy whispered back. “It’s like a cowboy in Argentina.”

  “And I’m a little Dutch girl,” Bess said, gazing up at her crisp white cap. “I just wish I had a pair of wooden shoes, too.”

  “What am I, a fashion outlet?” George asked. “Be happy I could get us these hats.”

  The shiny gold Thai hat on Nancy’s head wobbled back and forth as they walked to the school lunchroom. “Remember,” she said, “we have to pretend we’re Pixie Scouts, not detectives.”

  River Heights Elementary School was closed for Thanksgiving weekend, but the lunchroom was open for the Pixie Scout International Food Fest.

  When the woman at the door saw Nancy, Bess, and George, she smiled. “Don’t you girls look nice? Go right on in and enjoy the Food Fest.”

  “Dank je!” Bess said cheerily. “That’s Dutch for ‘thank you!’ ”

  As they walked past the woman into the lunchroom, George whispered, “Are we lucky or what? We’re in!”

  “Where’s Shelby?” Nancy asked, looking around.

  The girls saw other Pixie Scouts standing behind tables in their costumes. While guests sampl
ed the dishes, the Pixie Scouts talked about the countries they came from.

  “Look—there’s Shelby,” Bess said. “And her mom.”

  Nancy looked to see where Bess was pointing. Mrs. Metcalf was helping Shelby set up a shiny red fondue pot. Behind the table was a colorful backdrop of the Swiss Alps.

  “What if my fondue gets cold, Mom?” Shelby was asking as she flipped a braid from her wig. “Why couldn’t I bring in a hot plate?”

  “You’re not allowed to have heated objects, Shelby,” Mrs. Metcalf reminded her. “I’ll run to the car for a towel. Maybe we can wrap the pot to keep it warm.”

  Mrs. Metcalf walked away. Shelby turned her attention to a big container, which she struggled to open. Nancy guessed it held fruit and marshmallows to dip in the melted chocolate.

  “Hi, Shelby,” Nancy said as the Clue Crew walked over.

  “Nice setup,” George added.

  When Shelby saw Nancy, Bess, and George, her eyes widened with surprise. “What are you guys doing here?” she asked. “You’re not Pixie Scouts.”

  “We are today,” Bess said. “May we taste the melted chocolate in your fondue pot, please?”

  “Chocolate?” Shelby gulped. She shook her head hard. “You can’t. You can’t, okay?”

  “Why not?” George asked, raising an eyebrow. “Because the chocolate in the pot is from Classy Coco?”

  “Classy Coco?” Shelby said as she placed the closed container on the table. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Here’s a hint,” Bess said. “I’ll bet everyone in this room can’t wait to GOBBLE up your chocolate fondue.”

  Shelby stared at Bess. “Okay, this is getting weird.”

  “Or,” Bess said, “maybe there’s extra chocolate in that container you’re trying to open.”

  Bess touched the lid of the container. Shelby grabbed it away fast. So fast the lid popped off, tipping the container and spilling most of its contents on the table and floor!

  “Arrgh!” Shelby wailed. “See what you made me do?”

  “Sorry, Shelby,” Bess said. “I just wanted to see what was inside.”