The Case of the Hat Burglar Page 2

  Chapter 6

  The Burglar Strikes Again!

  Mrs. Garcia found us when the front doors of the school opened in the morning. “Jigsaw, Mila! I’m glad you’re here.” She took off her glasses and waved them in her hand. “We’ve been hit again!”

  “What, more hats?” I asked.

  “No, this is worse. Much worse.” She gestured for us to follow her. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to know where we were going. She stopped at the big blue bin. Yesterday, it was overflowing. Today, it was only halfway full. I studied the table. There were still a bunch of items there—water bottles and lunch boxes and binders—but it wasn’t as cluttered as yesterday.

  “Look at this!” Mrs. Garcia exclaimed. She seemed genuinely upset. “All the gloves and mittens. Gone!”

  “It’s true, Jigsaw,” Mila said, after sorting through the bin. “Not a single glove or mitten. That’s bizarre.”

  I scratched the back of my neck. First hats. Now gloves and mittens. What in the world was going on? “When did you first notice?” I asked Mrs. Garcia.

  “I came in early to neaten up. It’s always such a disaster area,” Mrs. Garcia explained. “I knew something was wrong right away.”

  I looked at Mila. “You were here yesterday afternoon. Did you see anything?”

  “I wish,” Mila said. “Everything seemed normal. Then I had my lesson in the music room.”

  “Was anyone around?” I asked.

  Mila shut her eyes, concentrating. “A couple of teachers. Mr. Copabianco, the custodian. Maybe some students. Plus, there’s always School’s Out.”

  “Mila’s right,” Mrs. Garcia noted. “There’s usually about thirty, forty students who stay late for pickup. Their parents work, and so on.”

  “Are they free to wander around?” I asked.

  Mrs. Garcia opened her palms. “I surely think not.”

  Mila pointed across the hall. There were two bathroom doors, labeled BOYS and GIRLS.

  “Well, yes,” Mrs. Garcia said. “They have access to the bathroom.”

  “Which is right across from the Lost and Found,” Mila said. She turned to me. “This won’t be easy, Jigsaw. There are dozens of kids in School’s Out every afternoon.”

  I frowned. “Oh, great. That’s terrific. Our list of suspects just got a whole lot longer. Every one of those kids had an opportunity to commit the crime.”

  On the way to class, Mila seemed downhearted. “I’m sorry, Jigsaw. I feel like I let you down.”

  “Don’t be silly, Mila,” I said. “You had your piano lesson. I was off questioning Solofsky. We can’t be everywhere at once.”

  I stopped in my tracks. I tried to snap my fingers—snap!—but snapping fingers is not exactly one of my big talents. It sounded more like fillupf. Yeesh. I said, “I know who can help us!”

  “Yeah, who?” Mila asked.

  “Reginald Pinkerton Armitage the Third,” I said. “He owes me a favor. In fact, Reggie owes me a bunch of favors!”

  From that moment on, I felt as light as air. I finally had a plan to catch the Hat Burglar. I floated down the hall and into our classroom. Pretty good, especially since I carried a super-heavy backpack. All the kids do. Thud, clunk. I dropped the pack in my cubby. It was like lifting a piano off my back. I love books, but they sure are heavy.

  Whew!

  Now we just needed to get through the school day—and then pay a visit to the richest kid in town.

  Chapter 7

  Reginald’s Gadgets and Gizmos

  At the front curb, my brother Billy rolled down the driver’s-side window. He called, “I’ll be back to pick you up in an hour, Worm!”

  “Thanks for the ride,” I called back. “But don’t call me Worm!”

  He zoomed away, leaving Mila and me at Reginald’s front door. I did a few push-ups on the doorbell. Gong-gong-gong.

  Mila shivered. She blew clouds of cold air from her mouth.

  “Reginald expects us,” I said. “I told him all about the case.”

  The front door opened. “Jigsaw and Mila! Splendid, splendid!” Reginald ushered us inside. “It’s frightfully cold out there.”

  “Yeah, frightfully,” I echoed.

  I noticed that Reginald had on a pair of baby blue bunny slippers. The slippers looked toasty, but they didn’t match his outfit. He wore a sweater-vest over a white shirt and a yellow bow tie. Neat and tidy, as always.

  I was glad I didn’t have holes in the toes of my socks.

  We shed our winter clothes and kicked off our shoes. Those were the house rules: no shoes, sneakers, or boots. Reginald handed our things to a tall butler, Gus, who had appeared at his side.

  “May I take your hat?” Gus asked.

  “No, thanks, Gus,” I replied. “There’s too much of that going around already.”

  He raised an eyebrow, confused.

  “Hat burglars,” I explained. “It’s a thing now. I’d prefer to keep this one on my head, if you don’t mind. We’re kind of a team.”

  Gus harrumphed and said, “Suit yourself.”

  I harrumphed back.

  “Reggie, your house is amazing!” Mila gushed. And she was right. It was amazing—if you liked things like indoor swimming pools and private game rooms and seventeen glistening bathrooms with gold faucets.

  I thought it was a little much.

  We followed Reginald down a long hallway.

  A while back, Reginald had started his own “secret agent” business. It didn’t work out so well. He thought being a detective would be fun, a chance to play with fancy gadgets and gizmos. But Reginald learned that solving mysteries could be a rough business. It took hard work and brainpower. Reggie was a nice kid, but he was as tough as a silk pillow. He promised I could borrow his gadgets anytime.

  Today, I needed him to keep that promise.

  Reginald pushed open a door, then said over his shoulder to Mila, “Please come into my research room.”

  I’d been here once before. The room looked like a laboratory. Various objects had been placed on marble countertops. “This is all your spy equipment?” Mila asked.

  She picked up an old boot.

  It was a mistake I’d once made myself. “Be careful, Mila,” I warned.

  Sploinnng! A suction cup attached to a spring popped out of the sole.

  “Whoa,” Mila said, jumping back in surprise.

  “Suction-cup boots,” Reginald explained. “For walking on ceilings.”

  “It really works?” Mila asked.

  Reginald shrugged and admitted, “I’m afraid to find out.”

  Mila picked up two plastic goldfish. “What are these?”

  “Underwater walkie-talkies,” Reginald explained.

  “Glub, glub,” I commented—for no reason at all.

  “And this?” Mila pointed to a tray of cucumber sandwiches. “Let me guess. Is it some kind of secret listening device?”

  “No, it’s a tray of cucumber sandwiches,” Reginald said. “For snack time.”

  “Cucumber sandwiches, yum,” I groaned. It was the last thing in the world I’d want to eat. I was a peanut-butter-and-jelly kind of guy. “Sadly, Reggie, we don’t have time for snacks. We’re here on business.”

  Reginald perked up when I told him we needed a way to keep an eye on the Lost and Found.

  “We can’t be there to watch it all the time,” Mila explained.

  “Ah, I have just the thing.” Reginald walked across the room and picked up a guinea pig plush toy.

  “A plush toy?” Mila said.

  Reginald used a pinkie to push his glasses back up his nose. “It contains a motion-sensitive camera. The very latest tech-nology,” he said. “My father got it on one of his business trips. Just point the nose to the area you wish to watch, and the camera automatically snaps a photo whenever anyone walks past.”

  Mila examined it closely. “Perfect,” she announced. “And cute, too.”

  “I can have the photos sent to you—to a cell phone, lapt
op, home computer, whatever you’d like,” Reginald offered. He handed me a headset. “If you’d like, we can communicate using this. Stereo sound, naturally.”

  I shook his hand. “Reggie, you’re the cat’s meow.”

  He smiled broadly. “My pleasure, Jones. I’m happy to help. But before you go, please take a moment to enjoy a delicious cucumber and cream cheese sandwich.”

  He looked up at me through round, hopeful eyes.

  I frowned at the tray of sandwiches.

  Mila’s eyes twinkled and she gave me a secret nod. I knew what I had to do.

  “Sure,” I said to my friend, Reginald Pinkerton Armitage the Third. “Who doesn’t love a cucumber sandwich?”

  Chapter 8

  The Setup

  On Thursday afternoon, Mila and I stood in the hallway outside the main office. Mrs. Garcia slid open the glass case. It was filled with trophies, art projects, photos, and other school memorabilia.

  I handed her the guinea pig.

  The school secretary placed it on the middle shelf.

  “Make sure it faces the Lost and Found table,” I instructed her.

  Mrs. Garcia moved it slightly.

  “What do you think, Mila?” I asked.

  “Looks good,” my partner said.

  I slid the bin a few inches closer to the table. “Now when anyone stops by, the hidden camera will snap a series of photos. If the Hat Burglar strikes, we’ll have the proof we need.”

  “I’m very impressed,” Mrs. Garcia said. “You two do nice work.”

  “It’s a living,” I said.

  Mrs. Garcia made a fist and punched the palm of her other hand. “We’ll catch that burglar yet!” She clucked her tongue. “Tsk, tsk. Taking children’s hats and mittens! What a terrible thing!”

  “Just awful,” Mila agreed.

  “Oh, I almost forgot,” I said. “This trap won’t work unless the Hat Burglar returns to the scene of the crime. We need to sweeten the prize.” I took the baseball hat off my head … and placed it on the table.

  “Jigsaw! No way,” Mila said. “You love that hat. You wear it all the time.”

  I shrugged. “It’s okay, Mila. No burglar will be able to resist this hat.”

  Mila pulled on her long black hair. It was how she got her Thinking Machine working. She looked at the guinea pig, then back at the table.

  “You okay?” I asked.

  “Yeah.” Mila nodded. “This will work just fine.”

  Chapter 9

  The Clue

  Five days slowly passed—Thursday, Friday, Saturday, Sunday, Monday—and nothing happened. But on Tuesday, the Hat Burglar struck again.

  And this time, we were ready.

  I stood at the Lost and Found, staring at a nearly empty blue bin. This time, the missing items were scarves and sweaters and snow pants. Pretty much anything that could be worn. All gone.

  All except for my baseball hat.

  Mila lifted it off the table, smiling. “Look, Jigsaw. Your hat. It’s still here!”

  I pulled it down over my head.

  Snug as a bug in a rug.

  I looked at the hidden camera. The guinea pig’s beady little eyes stared directly at me. “I can’t wait to get home to see what shows up in the pictures.”

  “Right,” Mila said. “I’d love to be there, but I’ve got to practice my piece for the piano recital. It’s a real knuckle buster.”

  “Too bad,” I said. “You’ll miss out on the fun.”

  The rest of the school day crawled by like a tortoise with a sprained ankle. Finally, the bell rang. Time to hurry home.

  Within minutes, I was ready. I set up my laptop on our dining room table. Rags lay by my feet. I spoke into the headset microphone. “Reggie, this is Jigsaw.”

  “Roger that. The eagle has landed!” Reginald said.

  “Excuse me?” I asked.

  “I mean, what’s up?” Reginald replied.

  I explained that the crime occurred sometime between 3:20 on Monday afternoon, when school got out, and 9:20 on Tuesday morning. “Can I see all the photos that were taken in that time period?”

  “Certainly.”

  I could hear the tap-tap-tapping of computer keys.

  A file appeared on my screen. I double-clicked and scrolled through a series of images. Nothing much captured my attention. Ralphie Jordan came by and took a water bottle. He seemed happy. That made sense. It was a Lost and Found, after all. Geetha stopped by. She looked through the items but left without taking anything. It made me wonder what she was doing. I’d have to ask her about it later. I saw images of kids from School’s Out. They went in and out of the bathroom. They drank at the water fountain. But not a single one stopped at the Lost and Found.

  Then something took my breath away.

  In a series of photos, I saw a hand reach up from below. Fingers grabbed the guinea pig and turned it until the camera faced the wall. The image went gray.

  Nothing, zippo, zilch.

  But then … the guinea pig swiveled back. The fingers had returned. The hidden camera once again faced the Lost and Found table. But now, items were missing. The Hat Burglar had beaten us again.

  “Did you see that, Reggie?!” I exclaimed. “We’ve been outsmarted!”

  “Indeed,” he murmured.

  “This burglar has been one step ahead of us the entire time. That’s three robberies!” I groaned. “And we’ve got nothing!”

  I wished Mila were with me. She always had good ideas when cases went bad. I missed my partner.

  Reginald didn’t speak. I could sense him in my headset, waiting. Finally, he asked, in a soft voice, “Jigsaw, I must ask. Besides Mila, who else knew about the guinea pig?”

  I didn’t answer.

  I didn’t want to say the words.

  And I hoped with all my heart that I was wrong.

  There had to be another explanation.

  “Jigsaw?” he repeated. “Are you still there?”

  “Hold on, let me think,” I snapped.

  “Of course,” Reginald answered.

  “Okay,” I said. “Let’s look at those last few photos again. The ones that showed the hand. Maybe there’s a ring or some other clue.”

  I knew that Mrs. Garcia wore a diamond ring on her left hand. Reginald brought them up on the screen. The fingers were a fleshy blur. “Can you enhance the image?” I asked.

  Reginald clicked keys. He hummed tunelessly while he worked. The photo came into sharper focus.

  I stared at the picture.

  My heart climbed up my throat.

  “Larger, Reggie,” I said, my voice scarcely a whisper. “Focus on the fingernails. I need to be sure.”

  The photograph got sharper, larger. There could be no doubt. Each nail was covered with polish.

  Purple nail polish.

  Chapter 10

  Double-Crossed

  I went into the kitchen and poured myself a tall glass of grape juice. I slugged it down. Then I had another. It didn’t wash away the sour feeling in my stomach.

  I tried doing a jigsaw puzzle in my bedroom.

  Step-by-step, I put the pieces together.

  I couldn’t stop thinking about the case.

  And about my best friend in the world.

  The clues had been there all along. They piled up, one after another. I took notes in my detective journal. It helped to get my thoughts down on paper.

  I had thought about motive, and I had thought about opportunity. But I had forgotten to think about method.

  How did the Hat Burglar do it?

  How does a thief walk away with all those hats and mittens? Wouldn’t someone notice?

  I remembered the morning when this case began. We were in Ms. Gleason’s class. Mila swung her backpack around with one hand. It landed softly, soundlessly, at the bottom of her cubby.

  How could that be possible?

  Because it wasn’t filled with books!

  Mila wasn’t much help on this case. She kept makin
g excuses. She said she had piano lessons, a big recital. I wondered if any of that were true.

  Another thing popped into my brain. Mila told Stringbean that she and Geetha had their nails done at the mall. She wiggled her purple fingernails.

  Could it have been Geetha?

  I closed my eyes to help me remember. No, Geetha’s fingernails were bright red.

  Could they have teamed up together?

  Mila knew about the hidden camera. That must have spoiled her plans. For a while, anyway. Then she figured out a solution. She didn’t realize that I’d still be able to catch her red-handed.

  Or, in this case, purple-handed.

  Sigh.

  I looked down at the rug. My puzzle was finished. One hungry cat staring at three nervous goldfish in a bowl. I knew what I had to do next.

  “Hello?”

  “Hi, Mila,” I spoke into the phone.

  There was a pause. “Oh, hey, Jigsaw. What’s up?”

  I told her exactly what was up.

  She listened in silence.

  “Tell me I’m wrong,” I pleaded. “Please, Mila. Tell me I’ve gotten this all mixed up.”

  She was so quiet I couldn’t even hear her breathe. “I won’t lie to you,” she finally said.

  That’s when I told my ex–best friend that we couldn’t be partners anymore. It was over. “You were my partner,” I said. “I trusted you.”

  Mila didn’t answer.

  Or maybe I didn’t listen.

  Maybe I had already hung up the phone.

  Five minutes later, Rags barked at the front door. We didn’t need a doorbell as long as Rags was around. I rushed to get there first.

  There Mila stood, staring at me with red-rimmed eyes. She had a scarf wrapped around her neck and mouth.

  “I don’t feel like talking,” I said.

  Mila nodded, as if she expected it. Instead, she reached out a hand. It held a piece of paper.

  I moved to close the door.

  Mila stuck out her foot.