Sly the Sleuth and the Sports Mysteries Read online

  That’s exactly how I felt.

  Stuart

  “Why are we walking so fast?” asked Melody.

  “I don’t want Jack to see us.”

  “We can’t walk fast enough not to be seen,” said Melody. “We’d have to go faster than the speed of light.” She giggled.

  “I didn’t mean it that way,” I said. “I just meant if we walk fast, maybe Jack won’t jump out as we go by.”

  “I was joking,” said Melody. “You’re touchy today.”

  The blot was still over my head. I couldn’t get a grip on Jack’s case.

  That’s how the day went. I couldn’t get anything right.

  In art we taped our pen drawings to the wall. Mine was almost as bad as Ben’s, and Ben’s was the worst.

  Then Mrs. Stambaugh chose the tallest kids to help her put up two big bird feeders outside the art room windows. That’s how she was going to attract the birds. I’m short. I didn’t get to help.

  Finally, it was lunchtime. Usually I eat with Melody. But that day I wanted to be alone. I sat on the bleachers by the soccer field.

  A few kids were playing a pickup game. There were hardly any birds around.

  I ate my sandwich slowly. It was one of those sunny, crisp days that makes you feel lazy. I stretched out on a bleacher and closed my eyes.

  A whistle startled me. Everyone else had already gone in from lunch recess. I sat up and stared.

  The whistle was coming from Stuart. He’s the school custodian. He was pushing a green thing across the soccer field. It was a metal funnel on wheels.

  Birds fluttered down onto the field behind him.

  “Hi, Stuart,” I said.

  “Why, hello, little miss.” Stuart called all the girls “little miss” and all the boys “little sir.” It didn’t bother us.We knew Stuart had a tough time telling us apart. He was really nearsighted. His glasses were half an inch thick.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Spreading grass seed.”

  “In November?”

  He stopped and smiled. “Most people don’t know it, but fall is a great time for planting grass. This soccer field would be bare all spring if I didn’t seed it now. And you want to know the real secret?” He leaned toward me. “A little bit every day for a week, rather than a ton of seeds all at once. It works like a charm.”

  I looked at the seeds. They were mixed, big and little, yellow and brown, and, oh, what were those black and white ones? Aha! “You don’t want flowers on the field, do you, Stuart?”

  “Of course not,” he said.

  I knew it.

  Confusion

  As soon as the last bell rang, I ran outside. When Jack came out, I jumped in front of him.

  “Come with me,” I said.

  “What are you doing jumping out at people?” said Jack. “I’m the one who jumps out at people.”

  “Just come.”

  “I have soccer practice.”

  “It’s about your case.”

  Jack twisted his mouth. “Okay.”

  I led him to the art room.

  “Well, hello, Sylvia,” said Mrs. Stambaugh. “Hi, Jack.”

  Teachers often call me Sylvia until they get to know me better.

  “Mrs. Stambaugh, can you tell us where you keep the seeds for those bird feeders?”

  Mrs. Stambaugh gave us a puzzled smile. “In the shed. We can’t keep them in the classroom. They might attract rodents.”

  “We need to go to the shed,” I said.

  “We already filled the feeders today,” said Mrs. Stambaugh.

  “There’s something you need to know, though,” I said.

  “What?”

  “Come with me. Please.”

  I led Mrs. Stambaugh and Jack to Stuart’s shed. Sure enough, there were two giant bags inside. One held grass seed. The other held birdseed. Including big black and white ones: sunflower seeds.The birdseed one was half empty.

  “Stuart switched the bags by accident,” I said. “He’s been seeding the soccer field with birdseed instead of grass seed.”

  “Oh, dear,” said Mrs. Stambaugh.

  “That’s why there are so many birds on the field in the afternoon.”

  “Case solved,” said Jack.

  “The birds have been going to the field?” Mrs. Stambaugh brightened. “Oh, well, now even more will come to the feeder. How nice.”

  Sunflowers

  The case of the Soccer Switch ended well. Everyone’s happy again. Jack got to practice extra in time for the game, and the coach let him play a lot. Jack didn’t make super kicks, but the team won anyway. So the coach was happy too. Happy enough to use team funds to buy Mrs. Stambaugh another bag of birdseed.That made Mrs. Stambaugh happy. She gave me a set of colored pencils as a reward for saving her winter project. That made Jack even happier. He said he didn’t owe me anything: No one should get double payment for the same task. I gave half the pencils to Brian, so he’s happy.

  I can’t help thinking that those birds must have missed some seeds here and there. That soccer field will look beautiful in spring, dotted with sunflowers. The thought makes me smile.

  Case # 2:

  Sly and the Kick Craze

  Determination

  The school bell rang. I gathered the stuff from my cubby.

  It was Tuesday. Every other day of the week, Melody and I walked home together.

  But not Tuesday. On Tuesday Melody had ballet lessons. I walked home alone. Tuesday was lonely.

  I went to the end of the hall and turned left onto Melody’s hall out of habit. I knew she’d be gone already.

  But there she was, at her cubby. She was leaning over.

  “What are you doing? Aren’t you late?”

  “Oh, hi, Sly. I was just looking at my knees.”

  “You have on jeans. You can’t see your knees.”

  “Are you in a bad mood? You get like this every Tuesday.”

  “Sorry.” I tried to perk up. “Why were you looking at your knees?”

  Melody smiled. “I was thinking about kicks.”

  “What about kicks?”

  “You know. In ballet we do battements—high kicks with straight knees. But maybe bent knees are better underwater.”

  No one would see kicks underwater. I put my hand on Melody’s forehead. “No fever. How come you’re delirious?”

  She laughed. “I just . . . ”

  “Hey, Melody!” Kate ran up behind Melody. “Do you have extra ballet junk I can borrow?”

  Melody rolled her eyes at me. Then she turned to Kate. “It’s too late. I told you. But you could start in January. That way you can ask for what you need as a Christmas present.” She put on her backpack and slung her ballet bag over one shoulder.

  “I want good stuff for Christmas,” said Kate. “Not ballet junk.”

  “Stop calling it junk.” Melody frowned. “The winter recital is only three weeks away. There isn’t time for you to learn everything. And I don’t have extra gear with me today, anyway.” Melody smiled at me. “Got to go. We can talk about kicking later.” She ran through the exit doors.

  Kate looked at me. “I’m going to take ballet lessons.” She seemed a little sad.

  I knew all about Melody’s recital. So I’d already figured out what they were talking about. “January is a good month to start,” I said. I like to be encouraging.

  “I’m starting now,” said Kate. “Today.”

  Jack jumped out at us. “Ballet’s stupid,” he said. He grabbed his pack out of the cubby beside Melody’s. “See ya.” He waved and pushed through the exit doors. Jack likes to wave.

  “Like I said,” mumbled Kate, “today. My mother’s going to talk to Melody’s ballet teacher. My mother can talk anyone into anything.” She went out the exit door.

  That part about her mother was true. Kate’s mother was a determined person.

  If she wanted ballet lessons for Kate, she’d get them.

  How much ballet could a person le
arn in three weeks?

  Sad

  I stood in my driveway and called, “Taxi.”

  “See?” said Brian. “She won’t come.”

  “Taxi.”

  “She’s cold,” said Brian. “She’s in a cave somewhere and she won’t come out.”

  “Taxi doesn’t get cold,” I said. “She’s an outdoor cat.”

  “It’s winter,” said Brian.

  “Not officially. It won’t be winter till December twenty-second.”

  “It’s cold,” said Brian. “I’m cold. Taxi’s cold.”

  “Taxi’s different from us. Her fur grows extra thick in the cold. It keeps her warm. Besides, she has a spot in the garage if she wants. She’s happy.”

  “Then why won’t she come?” said Brian.

  He had me there. Taxi always comes when I call. She’s special that way. “Taxi,” I called.

  Taxi appeared from the other side of the house.

  I sat on the porch steps and petted her. “Where were you, Taxi? I was worried about you.”

  “Then take better care of her,” said Brian.

  I narrowed my eyes. “Who’s been talking to you about cats?”

  “Pets need care,” said Brian.

  I knew it. He’d been lectured to. “Did you do something bad to Wilson?”

  Brian blinked. “It was an accident.”

  “What did you do?”

  “Well, not an accident. A mistake.”

  “What did you do?”

  “Frogs like water,” said Brian. “And a shower is water.”

  “You gave Wilson a shower?” I imagined a bunch of frogs in Brian’s bathtub. Then I imagined his mother discovering them. I put my hand over my mouth so Brian couldn’t see my grin. After all, it’s not nice to laugh at someone’s mother.“That doesn’t sound like such a bad mistake.”

  “The shampoo got Wilson sick,” said Brian.

  “Shampoo? Brian, frogs don’t even have hair.”

  Brian picked up a clump of dirt and smashed it on the driveway. “Wilson better get strong again.” He didn’t look at me, but I could see his chin crumple.

  I went over to Brian. I put my arms around him. “I hope so, Brian.”

  “Is he crying?” Melody came through Brian’s yard. Her backyard touched his, so we always cut through his. “Come hug me, Brian. We can cry together.” Her face was so sad.

  Brian looked at her. “Did your puppy die?”

  “No,” said Melody. “Why would you ask such a terrible thing?”

  “He’s just worried about Wilson,” I said. “What happened, Melody?”

  “My recital’s ruined.”

  Jumping to Conclusions

  “The recital will be wonderful even if Kate’s in it,” I said.

  “What?” said Melody.

  “Kate won’t be good, but who cares? You can still do everything perfectly. And when Kate messes up, you’ll look even better.”

  “What are you talking about?” said Melody.

  “Kate. Her mother got her into your ballet class, right?”

  Melody shook her head. “What gave you that idea?”

  This was embarrassing. I had jumped to conclusions. My father says a good sleuth never jumps to conclusions. “Tell me what you’re talking about,” I said in a business-like voice.

  Melody reached into the pocket of her jacket and pulled out a pair of ballet slippers. “Smell.”

  I stepped back. “I don’t want to smell your shoes.”

  “No one should. They stink. They’re my old pair. Pong ruined them before he was trained, if you know what I mean.” Melody giggled. But the next moment her eyes filled with tears.“My good pair disappeared. And they cost a lot. My mother won’t buy me a new pair till she’s convinced they’re really gone.” Melody sniffled.

  I thought about the time I lost my baseball glove. “Maybe they’re in your closet under something.”

  “You’re the messy one,” said Melody. “Nothing gets lost in my closet.”

  “Maybe Pong took them.”

  “I looked everywhere.”

  “Maybe . . . ”

  “Everywhere, Sly. I’m careful.”

  “I believe you.”

  “They were stolen. And I’m hiring you to get them back.”

  Taxi didn’t care one bit about ballet. I didn’t either. “I’ve never taken a criminal case before.”

  “Please.” Melody sniffled again. “My mother says my old slippers will have to do for now. But they stink. My good ones smell sweet.”

  “I have sweet shoes.And sweet feet.” Brian pulled at his shoelaces.“Sweet teeth too.” By now his shoeslaces were a tangled mess.“My mother says it’s a problem. Fix my shoes.”

  I sat on the ground and worked on unknotting Brian’s shoelaces. “That’s not really true,” I said to Melody.

  “What?”

  “Your good slippers smell like old sweaters in the rain.”

  “That’s lanolin,” said Melody. “I rub them with lanolin to keep them soft.”

  “Well, lanolin stinks.”

  “That’s your opinion. I like it.” Melody sighed. She could be very dramatic. “At lesson today Mrs. Munson made me sit on the bench. She gave me an ice pack.”

  “Why would she give you an ice pack for wearing old slippers?”

  “I didn’t wear my old slippers. I didn’t know my good ones were stolen till I got to ballet lesson and they weren’t in my bag. I had to dance just in tights. And I stubbed my toe. I hate ice packs.”

  “Oh,” I said, finally working Brian’s shoelaces free. “That’s awful.”

  “Ice packs burn,” said Brian. He took off his loose shoe and ripped off his sock. He stuck his foot in my face. “Smell.”

  “I don’t smell feet. It’s too cold to go barefoot, Brian. Put your shoe back on.” I stood up. “How can an ice pack burn?”

  “It’s true,” said Melody. “They’re so cold, they burn.”

  “They have jelly inside,” said Brian.

  “How . . . ” began Melody.

  But I shook my head no at her. If we gave Brian any excuse, he’d talk nonstop. “Does your toe still hurt?”

  “A little.”

  “Soak it in hot water with salt.”

  “Why?” asked Melody.

  My mother soaked her feet in salt whenever they gave her problems. But sleuths don’t use their mothers as a reason. It makes clients lose confidence. “It works.”

  “All right. But that’s not the problem.”

  “I know. The problem is finding who stole your slippers.”

  “And getting them back,” said Melody. “I don’t want to dance in the recital in my old stinky ones.”

  “No one in the audience will be able to smell them,” I said.

  “I’ll smell them.Will you take my case?”

  I like mysteries, not crimes. “I’m not sure.”

  The Phone Call

  “Let’s make a phone call.”

  We went inside. Brian came too. “Taxi’s cold,” he said to my mother.

  “I’m sorry to hear that,” said Mother. She wiped her hands on a dish towel. “Want to come have a snack and tell me about it?”

  Brian sat at the kitchen table.

  Melody and I went into the living room. I picked up the telephone and dialed.

  “Hello.”

  “Hello, Kate. I have a question for you. Did you ask for ballet slippers for Christmas?”

  “No,” said Kate.

  “Did your mother buy you ballet slippers already?”

  “No,” said Kate.

  “Did you dance without slippers in today’s ballet class?”

  “No,” said Kate.

  Aha! “Did you take Melody’s ballet slippers?”

  “No,” said Kate. “That’s four questions. Now it’s my turn. Are you completely nuts?”

  “No,” I said.

  “Why did you ask me those crazy questions about slippers? I’m not even taking ballet.�
�

  “Why aren’t you taking ballet?” I asked.

  “I asked first,” said Kate.

  “Somebody stole Melody’s ballet slippers,” I said.

  “Oh. Well, I’m not taking ballet because I don’t want to. It was my mother’s idea in the first place.”

  “You said your mother could talk anyone into anything,” I said.

  “She can,” said Kate.

  “She didn’t talk you into ballet,” I said.

  “You’re right. But she talked me into exercise. She’s still on that health kick. So I figured out I want to be a cheerleader instead. And that’s what I’m going to do.” Kate hung up.

  I looked at Melody. “Kate didn’t steal them.”

  “Don’t worry,” said Melody. “You’ll find the criminal. I have faith in you.”

  Lost and Found

  Melody came into the lunchroom wearing her backpack.

  “Why are you wearing your backpack?”

  “So I could show you.” She grinned. “Look.” She took off her backpack and unzipped the outer pocket.

  I peeked. “Your slippers!”

  “They were in my cubby this morning when I got to school.They must have fallen out of my ballet bag yesterday and I didn’t notice.”

  “That’s terrific.Your recital is saved.”

  “And the case is solved.” Melody patted her slippers lovingly. Then she zipped the pocket and put her pack on again. “What do I owe you?”

  “I never took the case.” Besides, I didn’t solve it. I’d made one of the worst mistakes a sleuth can make. I had assumed something without proof. The slippers weren’t stolen. Maybe I was slipping as a sleuth.

  I took a bite of my apple and tried to pep myself up. “Let’s celebrate when we get home today. We can make milk shakes.”

  “I can’t. I’m staying after school.”

  “What for?”

  “I have swim team practice,” said Melody.

  “Swim team?” I put down my apple. “Since when?”