It was a hot, humid Saturday afternoon and Cody and his parents were working in the backyard, planting a bunch of shrubs with funny names that his mom had recently bought at the local nursery.

It wasn’t exactly Cody’s favorite thing to do on the weekend. Earlier, he had tried to get his mom to go to the Verizon store to replace his cell phone, which had never turned up, despite Coach Mike’s assurances. Instead both parents had appeared dressed in old work clothes and muddy boots, lugging a bunch of garden tools and motioning for Cody to follow them.

“I’m doomed,” Cody said under his breath as his dad filled him in on the job that needed to be done.

Planting the shrubs turned out to be hard work. They used a pick to soften the ground, but the pick head kept hitting big rocks, creating sparks, and sending an uncomfortable vibration through the handle and up the arms of whoever was using it.

After a half hour, Cody’s shoulders ached, and his hands were becoming red and swollen. All three of them were sweating through their shirts.

“I thought they outlawed chain gangs,” Cody grumbled.

“No, they’re still legal in Maryland,” his dad said with a straight face. “I checked the statutes. Keep working.”

When they finally took a water break and collapsed in a couple of lawn chairs under an oak tree, Cody said to his dad, “When are you going to investigate the big crime wave at my school?”

Steve Parker grinned and wiped his brow. “That’s a matter for the county cops, not us humble city POH-leece.”

“It’s still going on?” his mom asked.

“Oh, yeah,” Cody said. “Somebody stole a violin from the music room yesterday. And money from the student store. They took the whole lockbox. They even stole an Elmo.”

Now his dad looked stricken. “They stole the furry little guy from Sesame Street?!” he said. He turned to his wife. “Honey, call the FBI! It’s the crime of the century! Someone stole Elmo!”

Cody knew his dad was messing with him. And that it could go on for a while.

“Oh, this is big news!” his dad continued, shaking his head. “Elmo abducted! I wonder if they’ll have a story about it in The Baltimore Sun?”

His mom joined in. “We can only hope Big Bird and Grover and Cookie Monster are safe!”

“Let me know when you’re through,” Cody said, rolling his eyes.

“Okay, okay,” his dad said, throwing up his hands. “Just a little detective humor.”

“Very little,” Cody said. “For your information, an Elmo is this camera thing the teachers use in classrooms to project objects on a screen. It’s supposed to be pretty expensive.”

“This is how old I am,” his mother said. “When I was in school, they used a projector to project objects on a screen.”

Cody let that one roll by without comment.

“Mrs. McManus, our assistant principal, also said a box of printer cartridges and Ethernet cords was stolen from the storage room,” he said.

“Wow,” his dad said. “They’ll take anything that isn’t nailed down.” He took a long gulp from his water bottle and wiped his mouth with the end of his sleeve. “What about security cameras?”

“They’re all over the school,” Cody said. “But mainly in the hallways. The police have checked the tapes too. But apparently all they can see are shadows.”

“Interesting,” his dad said. “Whoever’s involved here, they definitely know what they’re doing.”

Cody nodded.

“And it’s probably more than one person,” his dad continued. “All these different items that are missing…One thief couldn’t get around the whole school and steal all that.”

Kate Parker looked worried. “I didn’t know you were going to such a…rough school. When we moved in, the Realtor told me it was the best one in the area.”

Cody leaned forward in his lawn chair, opening and closing his sore hands. “York Middle’s a good school,” he said. “It’s just facing some challenges right now.”

“Yep,” his dad said. “It’s hard for schools these days, with all the budget cuts and layoffs.…”

“But it’s not like things haven’t been stolen there before,” said Cody, unable to resist telling the juicy story he had heard from Mrs. McManus. “A couple of students were busted a few years ago for passing counterfeit money.”

“Counterfeit money?!” his dad said. “You gotta be kidding me.”

“Nope,” Cody said. “And get this: she said the kids made the money themselves.”

“Where’d they get the printing presses and the plates and that stuff?” his mom asked.

“Wow, you are old school,” Cody said, twisting away to avoid her playful slap. “No, the kids used a PC and a scanner and a printer. But I guess the quality wasn’t too good, ’cause they got caught giving fake five-dollar bills to Mrs. Nieves in the cafeteria. And she’s legally blind!”

His dad laughed and slapped his thigh. “Speaking of counterfeit, this is absolutely true,” he said. “Maybe eight or nine years ago, a woman was busted at a Walmart for trying to buy merchandise with a million-dollar bill. You can Google it.”

“A million-dollar bill?!”

“Which, as you know, the U.S. Treasury doesn’t even make,” his dad continued. “That’s why these morons always get caught. You watch. They’ll catch whoever’s doing the stealing at your school too.”

They sat for a few more moments, enjoying the cool shade and the slight breeze that had arisen.

“Okay, buddy,” his mom said at last, rising to her feet.

His dad followed suit, draining the last of his water bottle and tossing it on his chair. “Time to get back to work.”

Cody groaned and rubbed his sore shoulders. “I was afraid you’d say that.”

“Up and at ’em,” his dad said. “Oh, and Cody?”

“Yeah?”

“I sure hope they find Elmo. Keep us posted on the little guy, would you?”

“And let us know if anything happens to Bert and Ernie too,” his mom added.

With that, his parents dissolved in a fit of laughter before picking up their garden tools.

Cody shook his head and smiled. My folks sure have a strange sense of humor, he thought. Sort of like the coach’s. Must be a disease all adults have.