14
It was a Wednesday morning when everything changed. Truman and Nelle came out of their homes like any ordinary day. Except on this day, Big Boy was pacing about on the road, bursting with excitement. “Did you hear?” he said. “Did you hear the news?”
“Hear what, Big Boy?” Truman said sleepily.
“Somebody broke into the drugstore!”
Truman blinked, looked at Nelle, then back at Big Boy. “Was anything . . . stolen?”
Big Boy nodded eagerly and added, “Someone smashed up windows at the school too!”
Truman’s eyes lit up. “Do you know what this means?”
“Finally, a case, Sherlock!” said Nelle.
Truman smiled. “The game is afoot, Watson.” He reached into his satchel, took out his deerstalker cap, and put it on. “Always be prepared, I say. Here.”
He pulled out an old corncob pipe of Bud’s he’d found and was about to put it in his mouth when he saw Nelle staring at him. He handed it to Nelle. “Dr. Watson smokes a pipe, I think.”
Big Boy seemed disappointed. “Who am I supposed to be?”
Nelle jumped in. “Why, you’re the inspector who never has a clue, ya big oaf.”
Truman corrected her. “Inspector Lestrade is the most famous detective at Scotland Yard. And a worthy member of our squad.” He pulled out his magnifying glass and gave it to Big Boy.
Big Boy beamed, satisfied. “More famous than Watson?”
Nelle rolled her eyes but Truman was gazing at the courthouse clock in the distance. “We have twenty minutes till school starts.”
“Fifteen. That clock is always slow,” said Big Boy.
Truman recalculated. “Then we must hurry! Inspector, lead the way.”
Big Boy stuck his tongue out at Nelle and made a beeline for the Monroe drugstore, where they’d spent many an hour at the soda-fountain counter.
When they arrived at the scene, A.C. was already there. Dressed in a brown vested suit and horn-rimmed glasses, he was standing outside, talking to the bearded policeman about some broken glass on the ground.
Truman shook his head. “Looks like my brother, Mycroft, has beat us to the punch once more.”
Nelle rolled her eyes again. “My daddy is not your brother. That would make you my uncle and you’re too much of a shrimp for that. Come on.”
“I’m confused,” said Big Boy. “A.C.’s your brother?”
“Morning, A.C.!” Nelle shouted. Her father barely glanced at her. He didn’t mind her calling him by his nickname, but in public she should’ve addressed him as Father.
Truman took the magnifying glass from Big Boy and started examining the ground. “Morning, sir. Any clues?” asked Truman.
A.C. lowered his glasses and studied this curious boy. “You’re Truman, aren’t you? I’ve heard a lot about you. I hear you’re the smartest lad in Monroeville.”
Truman looked at Nelle, who blushed. Truman blushed too.
“I read a lot, sir. People say I’m mature for my age.”
“Well, as long as you don’t take after your father—” he said absent-mindedly, and then he corrected himself. “I mean to say . . .” He paused, looking Truman up and down. Truman certainly was the best-dressed kid in town. “I hear you’re good with the crossword puzzles. Perhaps some Sunday, you could help me out. Those highfalutin words always get me.”
Truman almost reached for his dictionary but he already knew the term Sherlock would have used in this situation. “Indubitably.”
A.C. was a serious man, but he cracked a smile. “I’d enjoy that.”
Nelle butted in, pointing with her pipe. “A.C., don’t you know this is Sherlock Holmes?”
“And I am Inspector Les Trade!” added Big Boy, taking the magnifying glass back from Truman.
“Ah, I see. And you are here to help solve the crime, are you?” A.C. asked.
A.C. Lee was one of the best lawyers in all of Monroeville. When things went wrong, he was usually called in to give his expert advice. He slowly checked his pocket watch. “Well, Inspector, Mr. Holmes, and Dr. Watson . . . it would appear the real mystery is why you all are here and not on your way to school.”
Truman pushed a piece of glass with his white shoe, then walked over the broken shards to stare into the drugstore window. “Were any items stolen, Mycrof—Mr. Lee?”
Mr. Lee sighed. “As a matter of fact, yes. Some two-cent candy sticks and a plug of tobacco—”
Truman took out the little notebook he always carried around to record his observations in. Usually, he wrote about how the sun filtered through the morning fog on the creek or described the smell of the blue hydrangeas that filled his yard.
But now was business. “Dr. Watson, take note. The criminal is clearly a teenager. A boy, I believe. Maybe two.”
Nelle whipped out her notepad and started writing too. “What makes you think so, Sherlock?”
He turned to Mr. Lee. “A master criminal would have picked the lock and stolen money or linens or something of worth.” He scanned the ground. “A boy might use something lying around to smash a window. Hello . . .”
He bent down and picked up a rock the size of a large marble. He held it up to the light, examined it, then stuck it in his pocket. “A girl might steal candy, but only a boy would steal both candy and tobacco,” he concluded.
Big Boy jumped in. “Now all we gotta do is search every boy who eats candy and chews tobacca in Monroe County.”
Nelle shook her head. “That would be every teenage lug-head who lives and breathes. We need to narrow down the list of suspects.”
Mr. Lee cleared his throat. “Those are all very intriguing theories, but . . . there was one other stolen item: a cameo brooch.”
“What’s a brooch?” asked Big Boy.
“A cameo brooch is a pretty piece of jewelry with a carving in it,” said Truman. “Jenny has one. They can be worth a lot of money.”
A.C. leaned down and whispered, “But this one was special. It was an emerald-green brooch with a carving of a snake on it. The snake had red stones for eyes.”
Truman nodded eagerly. “Excellent. A jewel thief.”
“Maybe. Or just some kid who thought it looked pretty,” said A.C. He pulled out his pocket watch and checked the time again. “Either way, children, you have exactly four minutes to get to school now. I suggest you mull over the possibilities on your way. Now scoot.” He gave Nelle a gentle push, but she didn’t go willingly.
“You’ll let us know what you find this afternoon, right, A.C.?”
A.C. winked. “Indubitably.”
Truman grinned the whole way to school.