The Case of the Hat Burglar Read online

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  In memory of Chris Porter—JP

  Chapter 1

  Our Toughest Case

  It reads “Theodore Jones” on my birth certificate. But, please, do me a favor. Don’t call me that. My real name is Jigsaw.

  Jigsaw Jones.

  The way I see it, people should be able to make up their own names. After all, we’re the ones who are stuck with them all our lives. Right? I get it. Our parents had to call us something when we were little—like “Biff” or “Rocko” or “Hey You!” But by age six, we should be allowed to name ourselves.

  So I did. I took Jigsaw and tossed “Theodore” into the dumpster. These days, only two people call me Theodore. My mother, when she’s unhappy. And my classmate Bobby Solofsky, when he wants to be annoying. Which is pretty much all the time. Bobby is a pain in my neck. Let me put it this way. Have you ever stepped on a Lego with your bare feet? There you are, cozy and sleepy, shuffling down the hallway in your pajamas, when suddenly—YOWZA!—you feel a stabbing pain in your foot.

  What happened?

  The Lego happened, that’s what.

  In my world, that Lego is named Bobby Solofsky.

  And I’m the foot that stepped on it.

  So, please, call me Jigsaw. After all, it’s the name on the card.

  Mila is my partner and my best friend on the planet. I trust her 100 percent. Together, we make a pretty good team. We solve mysteries: lost bicycles, creepy scarecrows, surprise visitors from outer space, you name it. Put a dollar in our pockets, and we’ll solve the case. Sometimes we do it for free.

  But the Hat Burglar had us stumped.

  We were baffled, bewildered, and bamboozled. There was a thief in our school, and I couldn’t catch him. Or her. Because you never know about thieves. It could be anybody—he, she, or even it. That’s true. It happens. We once caught a ferret red-handed. Or red-footed. Or red-pawed. Whatever! Point is, the ferret did it. But in this case, no matter what Mila and I tried, nothing worked. The mystery stayed a mystery. It was our toughest case yet. And by the end, the solution very nearly broke my heart.

  But let me back up a bit. It all began last week, on a frosty Tuesday afternoon …

  Chapter 2

  Frozen

  It was the coldest day of the year. Three degrees below zero. In other words, it felt like the planet Hoth from Star Wars. Or Canada, maybe. Even worse, there wasn’t a single snowflake on the ground. Just cold wind and frozen skies. It was so nasty my dog, Rags, didn’t want to go outside. And Rags lives for going outside. That morning, he stood by the open door, cold wind blasting his nose, and whined. “Sorry, Rags,” my father insisted. “I don’t like it any more than you do. But we gotta go.”

  Rags put on the brakes.

  Eventually, my father talked Rags into it. I think he promised a treat. Looking outside, I felt the same way. I didn’t want to leave my toasty house, either. But when my mother said, “Time for the bus, Jigsaw, no dillydallying,” I had no choice.

  My mother lets me dilly. And she lets me dally. But I can never dillydally. That’s going too far. Not when there’s a bus to catch.

  At the bus stop, several kids stood together like a bunch of Popsicles in a freezer. I knew that two of them were Mila and Joey Pignattano, but it was hard to tell who was who. Almost everyone was bundled in thick winter clothes, hats pulled down to their eyeballs. “Murfle, murfle,” somebody mumbled to me through a wool scarf. I murfled back.

  The wind snarled as if it were a snaggletoothed wolf.

  Once the bus dropped us at school, we headed for our classrooms. Geetha Nair walked into room 201, dressed in a long colorful scarf wrapped around (and around!) her neck and face. The only part of her head that showed through were two round, chocolate-brown eyes.

  Helen Zuckerman burst through the door. “I can’t feel my nose,” she announced. “It’s frozen solid. I could snap it off like an icicle.”

  Joey poked Helen’s nose with a finger. “Yipes, you’re right, Helen. It’s colder than ice cream.”

  Bigs Maloney, in contrast, strolled in wearing shorts and a long-sleeve shirt. “No coat, Bigs?” Ms. Gleason asked.

  “It’s in my backpack,” he explained. “Just in case.”

  “Bigs, it’s below zero outside. When are you going to put on a pair of long pants?” Helen wondered.

  The big lug shrugged. “I like shorts better. They let my knees breathe.”

  “I wish it would snow,” curly haired Lucy Hiller muttered. “I don’t mind the cold if there’s snow. Then we could go sledding … or build snow forts … or—”

  “Make snow pies!” Joey cried.

  “What?” Mila swung her backpack around with one hand. It landed softly at the bottom of her cubby. “Seriously, Joey. Snow pies?”

  “Yes,” Joey replied. “Snow pies are delicious. Only one ingredient: fresh, white, delicious snow. Yum!”

  Stringbean Noonan gasped and pointed at Mila’s hands. “Look, it’s so cold your fingers turned purple!”

  Mila laughed. She wiggled her fingers. “It’s only nail polish, Stringbean. I had them done at the mall with Geetha and my stepmom this weekend.”

  “Phew!” said Stringbean. He seemed relieved.

  Athena Lorenzo staggered into the room. “My hair. It was wet when I left my house. Now it’s frozen solid!”

  “Oh, Athena. Don’t you have a hat?” Ms. Gleason asked.

  “I used to,” Athena said. “I think I lost it in school yesterday.”

  “Well, that’s a problem,” Ms. Gleason said. “Hats keep heads warm. It’s important protection in this weather. Athena, do you know where we keep our Lost and Found?”

  Athena shrugged. “I guess I lost that, too.”

  Ms. Gleason looked at me. I gave her a nod to let her know that I knew. “Jigsaw, could you please accompany Athena to the Lost and Found?”

  “I can do it!” Bobby Solofsky volunteered. He pushed to the front of the room. “Let me take her, Ms. Gleason.”

  “Oh, that’s very kind of you, Bobby,” Ms. Gleason replied. “I’ll think of you next time. For now, Jigsaw and Athena should get moving.”

  She turned to us. “Skedaddle, you two. Good luck finding your hat, Athena!”

  “But!” Bobby protested.

  “Next time, Bobby,” Ms. Gleason said. There was ice water in her voice.

  Chapter 3

  Lost and Found … and Stolen?

  Instead of calling it the “Lost and Found,” they really should have named it “The Big Blue Bin.” Because that’s basically what it was. A big blue bin crammed with stuff. There was a long table beside it, also piled with gloves, scarves, books, coats, shoes, backpacks, and more.

  Athena kneeled on the floor and began to dig through the messy blue bin.

  “Anything?” I asked.

&
nbsp; She shook her head.

  I scanned the contents of the table. Holy wow. Kids sure lost a lot of stuff. Water bottles, books, and sneakers. And lots of winter clothes. Mittens, gloves, and scarves were everywhere.

  But not a single hat.

  Hmmmm, I wondered.

  “Hey, Athena,” I said. “Did you come across any hats in there?”

  Athena shrugged. “I’m only looking for my hat. It’s banana-colored. But now that you mention it, no, I don’t see any hats in here.”

  “Maybe they keep hats in a special place,” I suggested. “I’ll check with Mrs. Garcia in the main office. She knows everything.”

  I found Mrs. Garcia at her desk. Behind her, a door led to the principal’s office. Mrs. Garcia signaled for me to wait while she listened on a phone. Finally, she looked up and smiled. “Good morning, Mr. Jones. How can I help you?”

  I told her about Athena’s lost hat.

  “Have you checked the Lost and Found?” she asked.

  “Of course,” I said. “But there are no hats.”

  “No hats? That can’t be right. We find a lost hat practically every day.” She rose and hustled out the door. I watched as she sorted through the items in the big blue bin.

  “I’m sure we had at least a dozen hats here yesterday,” Mrs. Garcia said. “I’ve been meaning to organize this mess, but there are only so many hours in the day.”

  “Are you the boss of it?” I asked.

  Mrs. Garcia rubbed her forehead. She seemed stressed. It was a look I’d seen on my parents. A buzzer sounded from inside the office. Two grown-ups entered through the front doors, seeking help. Mrs. Garcia shook her head. “I do the best I can,” she admitted. “But—”

  “Too much to do, and not enough time to do it,” I said.

  “Exactly, Jigsaw,” she agreed. “I don’t know what to say about the missing hats. It’s a mystery to me.”

  I reached into my pocket and handed her my card. “Mila and I might be able to help. For a dollar a day, we make problems go away.”

  Mrs. Garcia raised an eyebrow.

  A second phone began to ring in the office.

  “But this one’s on me,” I offered. “I can see you’re busy. Mila and I will take this case for free.”

  “Do you really think it’s necessary?” Mrs. Garcia asked.

  I nodded grimly. “It looks to me like we’ve got a hat burglar. You’ll need a detective to get to the bottom of it. Otherwise, we’ll have a lot of cold heads around here.”

  Mrs. Garcia reached out a hand. We shook on it. “Deal,” she said.

  Chapter 4

  On the Case

  Like always, I sat across from Mila in the lunchroom. But instead of eating my soggy tuna-fish sandwich, I opened my detective journal to a clean page. I wrote:

  Mila pointed to my list of suspects. “Why them?”

  “We have to start somewhere. This list will get longer before we’re finished.” I continued, “Athena said she didn’t know where the Lost and Found was. I thought it was suspicious.”

  “You didn’t believe her?” Mila asked.

  I shrugged. “How do you not know?”

  “People are funny,” Mila said. “They don’t know all sorts of things. And that goes double for Athena.”

  “Of course, I always suspect Solofsky,” I explained. “When you hear hoofbeats, think horses, not zebras.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “It’s something my father says,” I told her. “It means that you should start with the obvious answer, not some wild explanation.”

  “Oh,” Mila said, thinking it over. “So if you hear hooves … it’s probably not a rhinoceros.”

  “Not around here, anyway,” I said, laughing. “I’m going to pay a surprise visit to Solofsky this afternoon.”

  “Good thinking,” Mila said. “I’d join you, but I have to stay after school today. I’ve got this piano thing.”

  “A piano thing?” I repeated. “It’s a thing now?”

  “A lesson, okay,” Mila replied. “I’ve got a recital coming up. But while I’m here, I can snoop around. Maybe I can locate witnesses.”

  “Sounds like a plan,” I said.

  “Good, so what’s next?” Mila asked.

  I eyeballed my soggy tuna-fish sandwich. “The saddest sandwich ever,” I groaned.

  “Here, try this instead,” Mila offered. She slid half of her peanut-butter-and-jelly sandwich in my direction.

  “Really? Thanks, Mila—you’re the best.”

  “No worries,” Mila replied.

  I wrote the word MOTIVE in my journal using capital letters. I scribbled in three question marks. “One thing bugs me, Mila. Why would someone take all the hats?”

  Mila looked out the window, as if the answer might be floating outside somewhere, like a lonely cloud. She finally raised two hands and said, “I don’t know. Maybe the thief has a thing for hats?”

  I snorted. “Too weird.”

  “Maybe it’s about the Lost and Found,” Mila suggested. “Maybe someone is trying to teach kids a lesson about not picking up their stuff?”

  “Maybe,” I murmured. “But who? Mrs. Garcia? I got the impression she thought running the Lost and Found was a big headache.”

  “She’s very busy,” Mila noted. “Maybe it would be easier for her if, I don’t know, there were fewer hats? Anyway, better add Mrs. Garcia to the list.”

  I wasn’t sure, but I followed Mila’s suggestion. One thing I know about Mila—she’s usually right.

  Chapter 5

  Solofsky Clowns Around

  That afternoon, I walked up the stone path to Bobby Solofsky’s front door. A strong wind tried to knock me off my feet. I hoped Bobby was home. I didn’t think I could take another five minutes out in this snarling cold.

  I pushed the doorbell.

  Nothing happened.

  I pushed again.

  Nothing happened all over again.

  As I turned to leave, the door slowly squeaked open.

  No one was there.

  Strange.

  “Hello?” I called out.

  Silence.

  I took a cautious step forward.

  “YAH!” a loud voice screamed. Bobby leaped out from behind the door, arms raised high. He was wearing a clown mask.

  I nearly jumped out of my socks.

  “BWA-HA-HA-HA!” Bobby cried, doubling over in laughter. He removed the mask. “Scared you, didn’t I?”

  “Stop clowning around,” I muttered. “Let me inside, Bobby. You nearly gave me a heart attack.”

  Once I was inside, Bobby slammed the door shut. “Just dump your stuff on that chair, Theodore.”

  I dumped it all—hat, shoes, gloves, scarf, sweater, and coat.

  I looked around. “Is anybody home?”

  “Nah,” Bobby said. “My sister, Karla, is supposed to be watching me. But she went across the street to her friend’s place. I’m used to it.”

  I thought about my own house. My dog, my sister, three brothers, Grams, and two parents. I was never home alone.

  I shivered. “Do you know how to make hot chocolate? I feel like I have ice cubes for toes.”

  Bobby rattled around in the kitchen. He boiled water. He opened and shut cupboards. He zapped a bag of popcorn in the microwave. Zing! It was done. I was impressed. Bobby sure knew his way around the kitchen. He seemed used to taking care of himself.

  I took a sip of hot chocolate. The temperature was perfect. “You don’t happen to have any whipped cream, do you?” I asked.

  Bobby made a face. “This isn’t a restaurant, Jones. Why are you here, anyway? It’s not like we’re friends.”

  He caught me off guard. There was something different in his voice. Anger, I guess, but also sadness. I decided to take the direct approach.

  “Someone has been stealing hats from the school’s Lost and Found,” I said. “I wondered if you knew anything about it.”

  I watched him closely. Any good detective kn
ows that liars often give themselves away. Lying makes most people uncomfortable. Before telling a lie, they might blink frequently, or look away, or nervously tug on an earlobe. I studied Solofsky for any telltale signs.

  Instead, Bobby slid his tongue across his teeth. He made a sucking sound. Normal for Solofsky. He did that all the time. Bobby had the manners of an orangutan. He scoffed, “What would I do with a bunch of dumb hats?”

  Bobby didn’t deny doing it. He didn’t bother.

  And at that moment, I knew he was innocent.

  “Sure, I believe you, Solofsky,” I said. “But let me ask you one more thing.”

  “One thing,” he said, crossing his arms. “Then it’s time for you to scram. I don’t like being treated like a cheap crook. Hats! Come on. That’s not my style.”

  “I’m sorry if I insulted you,” I said. “I’m trying to help the kids in our school. There’s going to be a lot of frozen ears if I can’t crack this case.”

  Bobby shoved a fistful of popcorn into his mouth. He didn’t seem to care one way or another.

  “You’re a smart guy, Solofsky. Why do you think someone would steal hats?” I asked.

  Bobby leaned back in his chair. He let out a soft burp. “Money,” he said. “Money makes the world go round. Maybe the burglar hopes to sell them. Make some easy cash.”

  “Maybe,” I said.

  But I doubted it.

  After all, who buys used hats?

  The crime didn’t make sense. Where was the motive?

  I thanked him and stood to leave.

  Bobby watched me walk away from the doorway of a big, empty house.

  He seemed almost sad to see me go.

  I learned two things from my visit. I realized that Bobby Solofsky was a lonely kid in a big, empty house. And I knew in my bones that Bobby didn’t steal the hats.