I rushed to my room and grabbed the Zoo Crew packs with all the supplies from our last mission. My stomach somersaulted and my eyes stung.
“Kazu?” Mom stood in my doorway, hands on hips. “What are you doing?”
I knelt on the floor in front of my closet, holding the pack in my hands. I leaned back onto my heels to look up at her. “I’m gathering some stuff for an assignment.”
“What assignment?”
I stirred my hand inside the pack, thinking. “It’s a show-and-tell thing. Mrs. Thomas wants us to make a package of everything we’d take to a deserted island.”
“Oh?” She raised her eyebrows and stepped closer. “What would you take?”
I pulled out the kazoo. “This?” I reached back inside and pulled out the pocketknife. “And this? Because, survival?”
She looked at me.
“That’s all I have so far,” I said.
“What about a book? You’d need something to keep yourself occupied.”
“I can only take five things, and one of them will be a box of Froot Loops.”
“That leaves two more.”
“And a rain jacket and a magnifying glass, to build a fire. There’s no room for books.” I couldn’t believe I was arguing about an imaginary assignment.
“You don’t even want a picture of your family?”
“All right! I’ll trade the magnifying glass for a family portrait, because that’ll keep me warm at night.”
Mom started to say something and then stopped. Her face softened, and she said, “You’re right, Kazu. You’ve got this.”
I nodded, so shocked I couldn’t think of anything to say.
Then she asked, “Would you like to go to the Golden Buckle for dinner tonight?”
My parents were super good at knowing how to comfort me, but I needed to meet the gang at March’s house to plan tonight’s mission, Operation: Take Down Mrs. White.
“Mom, I can’t tonight,” I said. “We’re all meeting at March’s house to work on this assignment. Can we go tomorrow night?”
Mom chewed on her bottom lip before responding. “Of course. What would you like me to make you for dinner tonight, then?”
“Katsudon.” Next to baked manicotti, it was my favorite: a Japanese dish with a fried pork cutlet on a bed of rice soaking in an amazing soupy sauce with a scrambled egg on top.
Mom nodded. “You got it.”
I realized I just may have requested my last meal.
March had unrolled a bolt of butcher paper across the floor, from the window to his closet. “I thought we could map out our plan here.” He gestured to the floor, where two marker packets and a big box of crayons aligned perfectly with the border of the paper.
“But we haven’t even decided where we’re going yet.” Madeleine had been sitting at the desk but stood to approach me and CindeeRae on the bottom bunk of March’s bed.
“I just told you,” I said. “Crowley’s partner is Mrs. White, my neighbor, not Mrs. Hewitt.”
Madeleine folded her arms and huffed at me. “You think so, but there were just as many clues pointing to Mrs. Hewitt.”
March, who hadn’t been convinced that our music teacher was the dognapping mastermind in the first place, had quickly agreed with me in naming Mrs. White our primary suspect. I looked to CindeeRae for support.
She shrugged.
“What?” I said. “Mrs. White fits the code perfectly. No extra T.”
“I know.” CindeeRae picked at the knee of her jeans, not meeting my eyes. “But just this afternoon you thought Hewitt fit the code perfectly. And what about the receipt?”
March jumped in. “It was only for two bags of dog food, and they were cheaper than the ones on Crowley’s receipt, probably because the bags were smaller. You don’t buy two small bags of dog food when you’re feeding lots of dogs. Plus, it was probably for her dog, Pickles.”
“That’s another clue.” Madeleine held up two fingers. “She was at Sleepy Hollow the night Lenny was taken.”
“The Processes and Procedures document proves that Crowley and WITHE do different things. Taking the dogs isn’t WITHE’s job.” I stood and stepped across the butcher paper to face Madeleine down. “She holds the dogs, and Crowley takes them.”
That piece of information deflated Madeleine a bit, and she dropped her counting fingers and crossed her arms over her chest again.
“That’s true,” CindeeRae agreed from her perch on March’s bed.
“And don’t forget the payment Crowley gets from Seenile Gizmos,” I said, certain no one could argue with that. “Mrs. White’s husband’s name was Nile, and she wants to start a business selling gadgets for old people. That’s a pretty solid connection between Crowley and White. Not to mention the regular DineWise deliveries inside her closed garage.”
We could hear March’s brothers banging around the next room, fighting over something called a flubber-blaster.
“Should we take a vote?” March asked.
CindeeRae nodded and Madeleine dropped her arms to her sides.
“All those in favor of Mission: Take Down Mrs. White, raise your hands.”
March, CindeeRae, and I raised our hands. Madeleine let out a slow breath, rolled her eyes to the ceiling, and raised her hand, too.
“Then it’s unanimous!” I tried to high-five Madeleine, but she kept both arms stiff at her sides.
“You better be right,” she said. “Because there’s no time for mistakes.”