Chapter 8

The daycare was a disaster. The tables were covered in half-eaten food, spilled milk, and sticky red jam.

“Looks like the Snack Snatcher was here,” I said.

“Not the Snack Snatcher,” Hajrah said. “Little kids and lunch. Always a messy combo. This is where the kindergarten kids eat.”

“It looks like there was more throwing than eating.”

Hajrah shrugged. “That’s little kids for you.”

She was right. When Sofia eats dinner, most of it ends up in her hair or on the floor.

The rest of the daycare wasn’t messy. Board games and toys were stacked on shelves along the walls. A bright red-and-green carpet stretched in one corner, near bins of books. Hajrah and other kids came here every day before and after school while their parents were working.

We were working, too. Not schoolwork. Detective work. We had a witness to interview: Lindsay, the daycare assistant.

I had done a lot of thinking since yesterday. Most of it about Hajrah. She said she didn’t see the Snack Snatcher because she was eating licorice in the closet in the kitchen. But she did hear a noise. She thought it was Lindsay from the daycare looking for her. If Lindsay went into the kitchen looking for Hajrah, then maybe she saw the Snack Snatcher.

A large woman in a food-stained apron came through the door on the far side of the daycare. She started wiping the tables with a wet cloth.

“Hi, Lindsay!” Hajrah said.

Lindsay jumped and nearly dropped her cloth. She smiled when she saw us in the doorway.

“Hajrah! You startled me.” Lindsay looked to me. “Who’s your friend?”

“This is Myron. We want to interview you.”

“Interview me?” Lindsay said. She checked herself in the mirror in the dress-up corner. “Is it for TV? Should I get my hair done?”

“Not that kind of interview.” Hajrah giggled. “Myron and I are detectives, and we need to talk to you.”

“This sounds serious. What did I do?”

“It’s not what you did but what you saw,” I said.

“What I saw when?”

“Monday morning before school,” I said. “When you went to the kitchen looking for Hajrah.”

“I was hiding in the closet,” said Hajrah. She stared at a piece of mushed sandwich on the ground. “Eating licorice.”

“Ah, yes. Hajrah and her morning licorice.” Lindsay’s voice grew serious. “You know your mom doesn’t like you eating candy in the morning.”

“I know, but I can’t help it! It’s so delicious.”

“That’s why it’s best to save it for lunch. But this doesn’t answer Myron’s question.”

Lindsay turned to me. “I’m sorry, Myron, but I didn’t see anything in the kitchen on Monday morning because I didn’t go into the kitchen. I heard all the racket and poor Mrs. Peterson screaming, but I had my hands full in here with the children. Besides, I saw Principal Rainer run to the kitchen, so I thought it was all taken care of.”

“You’re sure you didn’t go into the kitchen?” Hajrah said. “I know I heard someone while I was in the closet.”

“It wasn’t me.” Lindsay started wiping the tables again. “Sorry I can’t be of more help to you, detectives.”

The interview was over. If Lindsay didn’t go into the kitchen, then she wasn’t a witness. She could not help us catch the Snack Snatcher. Hajrah and I turned to leave.

“Wait a minute!” Lindsay stood up straight. The cloth dangled from her hand as if she’d forgotten it was there. “I did see someone leaving the kitchen first thing Monday morning, before anyone else arrived.”

I pulled my notebook out of my backpack. “Can you describe them?”

Lindsay shook her head. “Hard to say. I didn’t get a good look. But I remember the person wore a black jacket with a big red ball on the back.”

I wrote the description in my notebook.

“Sounds like the logo for the Meadows Fireballs,” Hajrah said.

“The Meadows what?” I said.

“The Fireballs. You know, the professional soccer team?”

I didn’t know. I don’t pay attention to sports.

“Maybe that’s who you need to interview next,” Lindsay said. She went back to wiping down the tables.

Hajrah was already on her way outside.

“Where are you going?” I asked.

“Outside before recess is over,” she said without slowing down. “It’s chilly out there.”

I ran to catch up with her.

“What does the weather have to do with our case?”

Hajrah stopped at the doors. “What do people wear when it’s cold outside, Myron?”

She bounced on the spot like she had to pee really badly.

“Jackets!” I said. Now I knew why she was in such a rush to get outside. “You want to look for kids wearing Meadows Fireballs jackets.”

“One could be a suspect,” Hajrah said.

“One could be the Snack Snatcher!” I said.

“Exactly. Let’s go jacket hunting before it gets warmer.”