CHAPTER 6

The three of us sat staring at the bag of money like it was some kind of sculpture in an art gallery. I could imagine one of those little white cards in front of it with some snooty title typed on it like PAPER BAG MYSTERY.

After a few minutes of silence, Lester began to squirm. “If we can’t figure out whose money it is, do we get to keep it? ’Cause if we can, I think we should use the money to buy candy and games, maybe take a trip.”

Lester had changed back into Pig Face.

“We will solve the mystery of whose money this is. We’re going to be heroes, not thieves.” I looked across at Ralph and could tell we were both thinking the same thing: Why’d we have to get saddled with Pig Face?

“I said ‘if we can’t figure out whose money it is,’ so stop getting all wound up,” Lester protested. “Okay, we’ve looked at the newspapers and Facebook. How else can we figure out who it belongs to?”

Good question.

I leaned over and nabbed another peppermint. “I’m sure this money is stolen.”

Ralph gave me a confused look. “Elaborate,” he said.

I stuck out my tongue before continuing. “Well duh, isn’t it obvious?”

He shook his head. “Not to me it isn’t. We can’t see inside your brain, Tracy. Elaborate.”

The amount Ralph loved to say that word was equal to how much I hated to hear it. “Fine, Mr. I-want-to-know-every-boring-detail; I will elaborate! Think about it: Someone leaves a paper bag full of money in a baseball dugout? Does that make any sense? If you or I’d lost that much money, we’d be searching everywhere for it. We’d be freaking out! Who takes over fifteen hundred dollars to a baseball field, anyway? And the paper bag was all mixed up with dirt and leaves. That makes me think someone was trying to hide it.”

“I don’t know, Tracy,” Lester said. I could feel my face starting to flush. He didn’t know?

“Elaborate,” Ralph told Lester. I crunched my peppermint harder.

Lester stood up and began to pace around the top of the rock, his fingers laced behind his back as if he were a lawyer in a courtroom. He loved being the center of attention and it was clear he’d been watching too many courtroom shows on TV with Dad. I was surprised he hadn’t said “I object!” when I’d said I thought the money was stolen.

“First of all, how do we know someone isn’t looking for the money? Maybe they didn’t call the papers or put it on Facebook because they’re afraid the whole town would be out looking for it. Or maybe they don’t want anyone to know they’ve lost the money.”

“He’s got a point,” Ralph said. “Some people would go searching just to keep it for themselves. Not everyone’s as nice as we are. And maybe whoever lost it doesn’t want people to know that they carry that much money around.”

“Or maybe they don’t know where they lost the money,” Lester continued. “Maybe they’re searching all over town for it.”

I hated that some of his ideas were good.

“You have some good points, Pig F—I mean Lester—but I think the fact that it was wedged under the bench means it was probably hidden by someone, and the only reason you’d hide a paper bag full of money is if you’d stolen it.”

“She has a point,” Ralph said.

Lester snorted. “You guys think everything is a mystery. Don’t you remember what happened in fourth grade, Tracy?”

I winced. “This isn’t like that.”

Lester raised his eyebrows so high they nearly touched his hairline. “Are you sure? Remember the award they gave you?”

I gave him the stink eye. I’d been trying to forget that award for over a year.

“Girl Most Likely to Find the Loch Ness Monster,” Ralph added, unhelpfully.

In fourth grade, Ralph and I decided we were going to be famous detectives when we grew up, just like Humphrey Bogart in The Maltese Falcon. I couldn’t talk Ralph into wearing a trench coat, but we did borrow my mom’s magnifying glass so we could look for clues. We’d wander the playground, me clutching my top-secret detective notebook, interviewing kids and teachers trying to find and solve mysteries. Unfortunately, St. Stephen Elementary School was totally without crimes. It was very discouraging.

At first, our homeroom teacher, Mrs. Garnett, thought it was funny that my detective notebook had a page about each of the school’s teachers and Principal Walton. But after I showed her the page where I suspected Principal Walton’s new Cadillac was stolen because she’d gone out of town to pick it up, Mrs. Garnett suggested I keep my suspicions to myself and my detective notebook at home. Of course, I couldn’t do that—a detective’s notebook is everything to her—but I made sure to keep it hidden, which meant I was forced to write up all of my notes while sitting on a toilet in the girls’ bathroom. Still, I guess I wasn’t as good at keeping it hidden as I thought, because at the end-of-year assembly, Principal Walton gave me that stupid award. Jasmine has never let me live it down. And now, here was Pig Face throwing it in my face at the exact moment Ralph and I had finally found a case.

“This isn’t like fourth grade, Lester. This is a real mystery! That’s a bag full of money,” I said, pointing to the crumpled paper sack in front of us. “Maybe the person stuck it under the bench because they were being chased. They planned to come back for it as soon as the coast was clear. That’s what I’d do. I’d hide the stash someplace where people wouldn’t be looking for money.”

Lester knew better than to argue. “Okay, if that’s what happened, it would mean the bag hasn’t been there very long and that you and Ralph took it before they could come back for it. Did you see anyone else besides Joe Tunney hanging around? I was too busy eavesdropping on you two to notice anything unusual.” He grinned his best jack-o’-lantern grin, the one I always wanted to wipe off his face.

“Jasmine Singh and her friends were leaving when we arrived,” I said.

Ralph looked troubled. “Joe didn’t even look at us. I doubt he had anything to do with the bag of money.”

“I hope no one besides me saw you guys find the bag,” Lester said, suddenly looking nervous. A blotchy hive was forming on his left cheek.

I thought of the flash of red I’d seen earlier. “When we were walking over here, I thought I saw someone near the train tracks. What if someone did see us take the money? What if they followed us here?” The BELOVED KIDS FOUND MURDERED IN LOCAL BARN headline was replaced by a new one: BELOVED KIDS FOUND MURDERED ON BIG ROCK. I shivered.

Ralph and Lester stopped chomping their peppermints. Without saying a word, Ralph and I hopped up and quietly patrolled the top of the Big Rock, checking the woods below while Lester frantically repacked his knapsack. No one was there. Ralph and I sat down again, but we were jumpy and kept standing up, in case we had to leave in a hurry.

After doing this three or four times, I’d had enough. “We need to leave. We’re like sitting ducks up here.” Everything about the woods felt scary all of a sudden. Even the birds’ songs sounded sinister to me.

“Before we go, we have to hide the money,” Lester reminded us.

“You’re right. Any ideas where?” Ralph picked up the paper bag and looked around.

“Let’s hide it down near the base of the Big Rock and then go home. I’m starving,” I said, even though I was thinking I’m scared. “We’ll work on this again tomorrow morning. How about you come over to our place at nine o’clock sharp, Ralph?”

“Can we make it nine-thirty? I watch a baking show every morning at nine o’clock. Tomorrow’s episode is about fondant.” I wanted to say something nasty to Ralph about having to adjust our detecting schedule around the Food Network, but I thought better of it and nodded.

We climbed back down and tucked the bag into a crevice hidden by brambly shrubs. It was as good a spot as any and was protected if it rained.

“Looks like we’re on the case,” Lester said, beaming up at Ralph and me.

Ralph smiled and gave Lester a high five. That’s going to go to his head, I thought. Sure enough, Lester turned, waiting for me to give him a high five, too. There was no way I was going to do that. But then Ralph gave me this look that said don’t be mean. I sighed and half-heartedly slapped my hand against Lester’s. He whooped with delight.

What Ralph didn’t seem to get, but I knew too well, was that Pig Face was like glue. In the beginning it seems like he’s just a harmless glue stick, something you can wash off easily with soap and water. Then he turns out to be crazy glue—you’re stuck with him forever.

“Am I ever glad you’re home, Tracy,” Ralph said as we made our way back through the woods, keeping an eye out for any unwanted company. “It was so boring without you!”