The Case of the Million-Dollar Mystery Read online

  I walked to his door and knocked three times, hard, like I meant business.

  After a moment’s silence, the voice on the other side of the door said, “Come in.”

  I took a deep breath. Grabbed the doorknob. And walked into my principal’s office.

  I thought he might be a thief.

  But I needed proof.

  Chapter

  13

  A Close Call

  Mr. Rogers spun around in his chair to face me, his eyes wide with concern.

  “I’ll see you at four o’clock then,” he spoke into the phone. Mr. Rogers hung up the receiver. “Jigsaw, what’s wrong?” he asked. “Is everything all right?”

  I spoke without thinking. Somehow the words leaped from my mouth. “I think you took Eddie Becker’s million-dollar invention,” I said.

  The minute I said it, I regretted it. Mr. Rogers stiffened. His lips tightened and his eyes narrowed. “Excuse me?” he said, not altogether kindly. “Are you suggesting that I stole—”

  “Er, not exactly, um,” I stammered, fumbling for words. I was used to questioning suspects, but most of them were only four feet tall. I felt very uncomfortable with Mr. Rogers staring at me. I glanced around the room for some way out of this situation. His desk was littered with papers. Behind him, on a small bookshelf, tottered stacks of folders, envelopes, and assorted papers.

  I closed my eyes, remembering the time I found Mr. Rogers at Ms. Gleason’s desk. I replayed the scene in my mind, trying to see it over again. There was Mr. Rogers by the desk. He had a pile of papers in his arms. He placed several stacks on Ms. Gleason’s desk. That’s it—I suddenly understood! One of the stacks went on top of an envelope—Eddie’s envelope. Mr. Rogers was in such a rush, he scooped up the envelope by accident! He wasn’t a thief after all.

  “Jigsaw?” Mr. Rogers prodded. “I asked you a question. Are you accusing me of stealing a student’s work?”

  “Stealing?!” I repeated. “Are you kidding? No way, Mr. Rogers. I said you took Eddie’s invention … by accident.”

  I explained everything. “To be honest,” I concluded, “I think you accidentally scooped it up when you picked up the papers off Ms. Gleason’s desk.”

  Mr. Rogers smiled. “Well, yes, that could be. Let’s have a look.”

  We found the envelope labeled TOP SECRET beneath a pile of folders. “Oh, heavens to Betsy, what a foul-up. When Mrs. Garcia isn’t here, I can’t keep anything straight,” Mr. Rogers murmured. He handed the envelope to me. “Could you take this to Eddie? And please apologize for me.”

  Whew. That had been a close call. I jumped to the wrong conclusion—and nearly got into big trouble. But I still had one question. “Mr. Rogers, sir?”

  “Yes?”

  “I heard you on the phone,” I admitted. “It sounded like you were selling something.”

  “You heard me … through a closed door?” he asked.

  I shrugged. “Good ears, I guess.”

  “Yes, I guess so,” he replied suspiciously. “Well, since you asked, I’m selling my car.”

  “Oh.”

  “And now,” he said, “I have work to do, detective. That is, if you’ve finished questioning me.”

  I got out of there in a hurry, holding Eddie’s envelope in my hands.

  One case solved. One to go.

  Chapter

  14

  More Inventions

  Back in room 201, Eddie was ecstatic to get his million-dollar idea back. Ms. Gleason, however, looked at me curiously. She asked, “Jigsaw, how did you know to go to the principal’s office?”

  “Just a lucky break,” I answered.

  Later that afternoon, Bigs Maloney showed the class his invention. “It’s a nighttime-in-the-rain-puddle-stomper thingy,” he told us. “See, I tied a flashlight to an ordinary umbrella. Now I can walk around in the rain at night and find puddles to stomp in.”

  Ms. Gleason seemed to think this was, in her word, “brilliant.”

  Go figure.

  Mike Radcliff showed us his drawing for a motorized, revolving spaghetti fork. “A real time-saver,” he claimed. “Easy on the wrists, too.”

  Helen Zuckerman invented a nosemuff. “It’s like an earmuff,” she explained, “except for noses.”

  Ms. Gleason glanced at the wall clock. “We have time for one more today. We’ll have to finish up tomorrow.”

  Joey’s hand shot up. “My first experiment didn’t go so well,” he admitted to the class. “I read in a book that as a boy Thomas Alva Edison once tried to hatch eggs by sitting on them,” Joey said with a loopy grin. “But I didn’t make any baby chicks … I only made a mess.”

  Yuck. The class laughed. Joey’s cheeks turned red, but his smile quickly returned. He pulled out a piece of paper. It showed a picture of a strange-looking chair. The middle part of the seat was cut out, making it look like the letter V. “I got this idea at Jigsaw’s house,” he said. “I was sitting at the corner of the table and I couldn’t tuck my chair in all the way. I kept banging it on the table leg.” He pointed to his drawing. “So I figured that if you cut out the middle part, the problem would be solved.”

  He gave a worried look to Ms. Gleason. “Is that all right?” he asked.

  Ms. Gleason rose from her chair, beaming from earring to earring. Then, slowly, she began to clap. The rest of the class joined her. “Very nice job, Joey. Very good work!” she exclaimed. “I wouldn’t mind having one of those chairs in my house.”

  Joey swallowed hard. “Really?”

  “Really.”

  I laughed to myself. That Joey. It figured that his invention would be something that helped him get closer to the dinner table.

  “Pssst, Jigsaw,” Stringbean Noonan called from behind me. “Look what I got today.”

  He held up a piece of orange construction paper. It read:

  I sighed. This case was getting on my nerves.

  Chapter

  15

  Goodness

  That night, Mila called me. I told her about my adventure in the principal’s office. She loved it. Then she changed the subject. “Three more notes came in school yesterday,” Mila said. “Stringbean got one and so did Helen and Bobby.”

  I checked my journal. “That leaves only Danika, Joey, Eddie, and Geetha,” I said.

  “We have art class tomorrow,” Mila said. “Let’s keep an eye on everyone’s supplies.”

  “Yes, like who owns a packet of multicolored construction paper,” I said.

  “Exactly.”

  In art with Mr. Manus, we were busy cutting out pictures from magazines for collages. Mila leaned toward me and said, “Three kids have multicolored construction paper—Bobby, Nicole, and Geetha.”

  Nicole had already received a blackmail note. But I couldn’t rule her out as a suspect just yet. We’d have to check them all out, one by one. I walked over to Solofsky’s desk. He cut away at his magazines like a lunatic. It was the sloppiest job I’d ever seen. I picked up one of his magazines and leafed through it. Plenty of pictures had been ripped out. But none of the letters.

  I took a stroll over to Nicole’s desk. She was struggling to get glue out of a tube. “Here, let me help,” I offered. That gave me a chance to look over Nicole’s shoulder. “Why aren’t you doing a collage?” I wondered.

  Nicole frowned. “I forgot my magazines,” she confessed.

  Suddenly, a shriek filled the room. “Hey, watch it with that glue, Jigsaw!”

  I turned to see Mr. Manus frantically wiping his shoes. I must have squeezed the tube too hard. A stream of glue flew from the tube … through the air … onto his blue suede shoes.

  After apologizing to Mr. Manus, I turned my attention to Geetha Nair.

  She was the last person I’d ever suspect of blackmail. But after I watched her closely, I knew it was true. Geetha was an artist. She used her scissors like a surgeon, cutting perfectly straight lines into the paper. No ragged cuts, no mistakes. Just like in the notes. Mila distracted h
er for me, while I “borrowed” a few of Geetha’s magazines. There it was—the proof I needed. Many of the letters in the headlines had been carefully, perfectly cut out.

  We confronted Geetha in the hallway outside room 201.

  She shyly stared at the ground, hardly able to speak. “I don’t understand, Geetha,” Mila said. “Why have you been sending those awful notes?”

  Geetha fidgeted for a moment, then lifted her eyes to me. “It was an experiment,” she confessed.

  “A what?”

  “An experiment,” she repeated, this time in a stronger voice. “I wanted to invent … goodness.”

  “Goodness?” Mila echoed. “What do you mean?”

  Again, Geetha nervously looked at the floor. “Sometimes kids can be mean,” she said. “We all do bad things. And I just thought…”

  She paused.

  “You thought … what?” I prodded.

  “I thought that if we believed someone was watching over us, then maybe we’d all treat one another nicer.” She looked at Mila, then me. Her chocolate eyes looked like wet stones.

  Mila spoke first. “That’s a beautiful invention, Geetha.”

  “Maybe it wasn’t the best way to go about it,” I pointed out. “But it’s the thought that counts.”

  “Will you tell on me?” Geetha asked.

  “No,” Mila replied. “We won’t tell. But the notes need to stop. Besides, maybe your invention is working. Take a look for yourself.”

  We glanced around the hallway. Bobby Solofsky helped open a door for Ms. Gleason. Smiling politely, Kim let Nicole go ahead of her at the water fountain.

  A shy grin flickered on Geetha’s face. Her eyes lost that glassy look. Instead, they filled with hope.

  “Let’s go inside,” I pointed out. “Eddie is supposed to show us his invention.”

  Chapter

  16

  The Money Machine

  First, Mila and Danika showed their invention. “We call them Krunch Berry Cookies,” Danika said.

  Mila held up a plate of cookies. Danika continued, “We did research on the lady who invented chocolate chip cookies. So we thought, why not invent a new cookie?!”

  “We tried lots of different things,” Mila added. “Bologna cookies … french fry cookies … all kinds of crazy stuff.”

  Danika added, “Then we decided on Krunch Berry Cookies!”

  The boys in the class were making gross sounds, holding their stomachs and laughing at the same time.

  Ms. Gleason gave us all a chance to try a cookie. I’ll say this: They were crunchy. Disgusting. But definitely crunchy.

  Then it was Eddie’s turn. His invention was more than a little complicated.

  “This is my automatic Monopoly Money Machine,” Eddie said proudly. “It counts money. All you’ve got to do is take a marble and drop it down this shoot. It trips the spring, which pushes the lettuce, then the hungry hamster steps on the seesaw, forcing the glove to go down, and then…”

  To tell you the truth, I could barely understand what he was talking about. I’ll say this, it sure looked cool. Of course, it didn’t work. The glove came down and threw Monopoly money all over the floor. If the idea was to make a mess, then it worked plenty good.

  “It certainly is … er … original,” Ms. Gleason concluded.

  “That’s a million-dollar idea?” I whispered to Mila. “It looks like a million-dollar waste of time.”

  Shhh. Mila placed a finger in front of her lips. “Uietqay,” she said in pig Latin. “E’llhay earhay ouyay.”

  We laughed. And you know what? It felt good. After all, I’d had some week. A week of weird inventions … creepy notes … and a visit to the principal’s office. I looked around at the class. Everybody seemed happy, smiling, laughing together. Eddie had his invention back. He seemed happy, even if it didn’t turn out to be a million-dollar idea. And there, sitting quietly at her desk, was Geetha.

  Just watching.

  Maybe we can invent goodness after all. I guess it’s like a jigsaw puzzle. Or a mystery.

  Just one piece at a time.

  We’ll all get there, together, one step at a time.

  Don’t miss this special sneak peek at a brand-new, never-before-published JIGSAW JONES MYSTERY:

  The Case from Outer Space

  “Highly recommended.”—School Library Journal

  When Joey and Danika find a mysterious note tucked inside a book, all signs point to a visitor from outer space. Yikes! Can Jigsaw solve this case, when the clues are out of this world?

  Chapter

  1

  A Knock on the Door

  Call me Jones.

  Jigsaw Jones, private eye.

  I solve mysteries. For a dollar a day, I make problems go away. I’ve found stolen bicycles, lost jewelry, and missing parakeets. I’ve even tangled with dancing ghosts and haunted scarecrows.

  Mysteries can happen anywhere, at any time. One thing I’ve learned in this business is that anyone is a suspect. That includes friends, family, and a little green man from outer space.

  Go figure.

  It was a lazy Sunday morning. Outside my window, it looked like a nice spring day. The sky was blue with wispy clouds that looked like they had been painted by an artist. A swell day for a ball game. Or a mystery. Maybe both if I got lucky.

  I was standing at my dining room table, staring at a 500-piece jigsaw puzzle. It was supposed to be a picture of our solar system. The sun and eight planets. But right now it was a mess. Scattered pieces lay everywhere. I scratched my head and munched on a blueberry Pop-Tart. Not too hot, not too cold. Just right. As a cook, I’m pretty good with a toaster. I began working on the border, grouping all the pieces that had a flat edge. Sooner or later, I’d work my way through the planets. The rust red of Mars. The rings of Saturn. And the green tint of Neptune. I’ve never met a puzzle I couldn’t solve. That’s because I know the secret. The simple trick? Don’t give up.

  Don’t ever give up.

  My dog, Rags, leaped at the door. He barked and barked. A minute later, the doorbell rang. Ding-a-ling, ding-dong. That’s the thing about Rags. He’s faster than a doorbell. People have been coming to our house all his life. But for my dog, it’s always the most exciting thing that ever happened.

  Every single time.

  “Get the door, Worm,” my brother Billy said. He was sprawled on the couch, reading a book. Teenagers, yeesh.

  “Why me?” I complained.

  “Because I’m not doing it.”

  Billy kept reading.

  Rags kept barking.

  And the doorbell kept ringing.

  Somebody was in a hurry.

  I opened the door. Joey Pignattano and Danika Starling were standing on my stoop. We were in the same class together, room 201, with Ms. Gleason.

  “Hey, Jigsaw!” Danika waved. She bounced on her toes. The bright beads in her hair clicked and clacked.

  “Boy, am I glad to see you!” Joey exclaimed. He burst into the room. “Got any water?”

  “I would invite you inside, Joey,” I said, “but you beat me to it.”

  Danika smiled.

  “I ate half a bag of Jolly Ranchers this morning,” Joey announced. “Now my tongue feels super weird!”

  “That’s not good for your teeth,” I said.

  Joey looked worried. “My tongue isn’t good for my teeth? Are you sure? They both live inside my mouth.”

  “Never mind,” I said.

  “Pipe down, guys!” Billy complained. “I’m reading here.”

  “Come into the kitchen,” I told Joey and Danika. “We’ll get fewer complaints. Besides, I’ve got grape juice. It’s on the house.”

  “On the house?” Joey asked. “Is it safe?”

  I blinked. “What?”

  “You keep grape juice on your roof?” Joey asked.

  Danika gave Joey a friendly shove. “Jigsaw said ‘on the house.’ He means it’s free, Joey,” she said, laughing.

  Joey pus
hed back his glasses with an index finger. “Free? In that case, I’ll take a big glass.”

  Chapter

  2

  One Small Problem

  I poured three glasses of grape juice.

  “Got any snacks?” Joey asked. “Cookies? Chips? Corn dogs? Crackers?”

  “Corn dogs?” I repeated. “Seriously?”

  “Oh, they are delicious,” Joey said. “I ate six yesterday. Or was that last week? I forget.”

  Danika shook her head and giggled. Joey always made her laugh.

  I set out a bowl of chips.

  Joey pounced like a football player on a fumble. He was a skinny guy, but he ate like a rhinoceros.

  “So what’s up?” I asked.

  “We found a note,” Danika began.

  “Aliens are coming,” Joey interrupted. He chomped on a fistful of potato chips.

  I waited for Joey to stop chewing. It took a while. Hum-dee-dum, dee-dum-dum. I finally asked, “What do you mean, aliens?”

  “Aliens, Jigsaw!” he exclaimed. “Little green men from Mars—from the stars—from outer space!”

  Thank you for reading this FEIWEL AND FRIENDS book.

  The Friends who made

  The Case of the Million-Dollar Mystery

  possible are:

  Jean Feiwel, Publisher

  Liz Szabla, Asociate Publisher

  Rich Deas, Senior Creative Director

  Holly West, Editor

  Alexei Esikoff, Senior Managing Editor

  Raymond Ernesto Colón, Senior Production Manager

  Anna Roberto, Editor

  Christine Barcellona, Editor

  Emily Settle, Administrative Assistant

  Anna Poon, Assistant Editor

  Follow us on Facebook or visit us online at mackids.com.