On the Case Page 3

Ivy spun around and headed toward the other side of the library.

  Madison collapsed onto the chair by her laptop, still clutching the sheet of paper she’d found on the floor.

  What was going on around there?

  Slowly, she pulled her belongings together and packed them neatly into her orange bag. It was three-thirty. She pulled her flute case out and laid it on top of everything else, and then she went downstairs to the music room.

  Mr. Olivetti was late, as usual. Madison sat on a stool in the middle of the room, tapping the ground with her foot. She lifted her flute and began to play.

  Screeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!

  Madison recoiled at her own playing. It was if she’d forgotten how. Her mind was on other things.

  Marquette Street.

  Madison thought again about the ratty sneakers and the squeaking voice. Where had she heard that voice before? It wasn’t Ivy’s.

  Or was it?

  “Miss-a-Finn!” Mr. Olivetti raced into the music room carrying an oversize briefcase. While most other male teachers wore plain ties and pants, and didn’t wear jackets, Mr. Olivetti wore a bright red bow tie and a sharp-looking suit. He spoke in a thick Italian accent. “My-a-goodness,” he said. “I’m-a-so late!”

  “No prob,” Madison mumbled.

  “So, we are ready to make-a-some music, yes?” Mr. Olivetti asked.

  Madison nodded. “Yes,” she said.

  “We have much to do, Miss-a-Finn,” he said, patting her on the shoulder. “Let’s-a-start with tone. Can you hold a middle B-natural?”

  Madison smiled. She nodded. “I can try,” she said, positioning the flute in front of her.

  Screeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!

  Mr. Olivetti made a face, as if he’d eaten a lemon.

  “Ahhh,” he said slowly. “After this-a-we practice scale work. Two octaves, yes?”

  Madison nodded again. It was harder than hard to relearn a musical instrument. She wasn’t sure if she really wanted to be there. Watching Crime Time and hanging out at home with Phinnie were a lot more fun.

  After the lesson was over and Madison was certain she had no spit left (flute-playing always dried out her mouth), Madison headed for home. She stopped in the locker room first to see if maybe Fiona was there. Fiona usually finished up her soccer practice around four o’clock.

  Fiona was not in the locker room when Madison arrived. Madison sat down on a bench and readjusted the books and laptop in her bag. She would be homeward bound after all.

  Just as she got up to leave, however, she saw the sneakers—the ratty sneakers with the pink laces that she had seen in the library before. They were planted neatly under a bench directly facing Madison, next to a row of clogs, shoes, and more sneakers.

  Madison looked around to see if the owner of the shoes was nearby. She listened close for a squeaky voice. But she heard nothing.

  Until Poison Ivy showed up again.

  “Oh, wow. It’s you,” Ivy groaned.

  She wore a sweatshirt and had pulled her hair back with a pink elastic band covered in butterflies; little butterfly barrettes were clipped to the side of her head. Madison guessed that Ivy had stayed at school for a dance or yoga workshop. Far Hills Junior High was trying to offer all sorts of new after-school programs. Ivy was always first in line to sign up for anything that sounded “cool.” She always wanted to do anything that her favorite movie stars liked to do.

  “Are you following me?” Ivy sneered.

  “No. I was just waiting for someone,” Madison said, wishing she could be invisible. She didn’t feel like getting into it with Ivy for the second time that day.

  Of course, the torture didn’t stop there. A moment later, Ivy’s drones, Rose and Joanie, came into the locker room wearing the latest terry-cloth sweatpants and faded-to-perfection T-shirts. The backside of Rose’s pants read: FOXY. The backside of Joan’s read: PRETTY. As if! Madison’s mom would never have let her wear anything like that—especially to school.

  “I just saw Hart,” Ivy said with a grin to the group. “Outside. He stopped what he was doing just to talk to me. What do you think of that?”

  “Goody for you,” Madison said with a growl. She hoisted her bag onto her back. “Goody, goody, goody.”

  Ivy made a disgusted look. “Look who’s talking, Miss Goody-goody. And you know what? I feel sorry for you,” she said.

  “You feel sorry for me?” Madison snapped. “Ha! I feel… I feel…”

  Madison wanted to say something sharp… something smart… something that would knock Poison Ivy’s perfect pink socks right off.

  But her mind drew a blank. With Ivy and her drones all there, it was three against one, and the pressure was just too much. Madison skulked out the door of the locker room without saying another word.

  Ivy and the drones laughed—or was it, squealed?—as Madison exited the locker room. As she headed for home, Madison considered the distinct possibility that maybe Ivy Daly’s was the voice she’d heard in the library earlier in the day.

  Maybe Ivy was up to no good—again?

  She had to find out for sure.

  Chapter 4

  IT WAS ALREADY TWENTY minutes since Madison had called, and Dad still hadn’t come over to pick her up for dinner. Madison sat outside on the front porch with her laptop. She typed a message to Bigwheels as she waited.

  From: MadFinn

  To: Bigwheels

  Subject: Re: HELP!!

  Date: Tues 12 Oct 5:31 PM

  Hey it’s me. I’ll try 2 chat tonite but I’m going to my dad’s for dinner so I don’t know 4 sure. Maybe we can talk tomorrow night?

  BTW: I’m sorry your parents are fighting again. That’s a big bummer. There’s nothing worse than listening to two grown-ups howling at each other. I wish I could give you this perfect advice, like, tell them they need to argue in “noise only” zones away from you--like in the car or in the basement behind the boiler.

  When my mom and dad argued, I basically hid. That’s my advice. TM--Don’t get involved.

  This isn’t very good advice, I know. But I’m not feeling very smart about things today. I ran into my enemy Ivy at school twice and both times she shot me down. I never have a good comeback. In fact, you may just want to ignore EVERYTHING I say. Period.

  I had a flute lesson today. I sounded like a cross between a high-pitched bird and a squeaky brake. I think my teacher actually covered his ears during my lesson. J/K but I do have some serious practicing to do.

  Don’t forget that Crime Time has a repeat of last week’s episode coming up tomorrow. You do watch the show, right? You’d better!!! We can compare notes.

  Yours till the music boxes,

  Maddie

  P.S.: I think I may have a few mysteries of my own brewing in Far Hills. I found this strange paper in the library. ML.

  In an instance of perfect timing (and perhaps an omen of better things to come), Madison saw Dad’s car pull into the driveway just as she hit SEND.

  Dad didn’t even get out of the car. He just honked.

  “Bye, Mom!” Madison yelled as she stuck her head back into the house and placed her laptop on the chair in the hall. “Love you!”

  Mom called out from her office. “Love you, too!”

  Madison leaned down and scratched the top of Phin’s head. He was dancing around her legs, as if to say, “Don’t go!”

  But after a quick kiss to his furry little head, she went, anyway.

  Madison scooted down the porch steps and got into the front seat of Dad’s car.

  “Hello, Miss Maddie,” Dad said, smiling. “Don’t you look fetching tonight! Is that a new ensemble?”

  “Dad,” Madison said. “You should be a fashion critic. You always notice what I wear.”

  Dad chuckled. “It’s your stepmother’s influence,” he said. “She leaves those fashion magazines lying around the apartment.”

  Madison smiled. Dad had finally married his longtime girlfriend, Stephanie, and she ha
d made a difference in his life, and not only by improving his fashion sense. Stephanie had made Dad laugh again.

  “How’s my dog?” Dad asked. Ever since the Big D, Madison had been convinced that Dad missed Phin as much as he missed her.

  “He’s really a pack rat!” Madison chimed in.

  Dad looked confused. “Rat?”

  “Mom and I caught him stealing stuff in the house and storing it in the back of her closet. You know, like a pack rat. He’s been doing it for weeks.”

  “Phin? A thief?” Dad feigned shock.

  “Oh, Dad,” Madison sighed. “He is! He even stole a teeny flash drive out of my orange bag and almost ate it.”

  “What else did he steal?” Dad asked.

  Madison recounted the full list of missing items.

  “Hmmmm,” Dad grinned. “Clever pooch, isn’t he? I think he went through a phase like this once or twice before. I seem to remember losing a pair of cuff links…”

  “Don’t you think I was pretty clever, Dad, for figuring out what Phin was doing?” Madison asked.

  Dad nodded. “Very, very clever.”

  “Cut it out, Dad!” Madison grinned and punched Dad in the shoulder. “I was thinking… maybe I should be a detective when I grow up,” Madison said.

  “A detective, huh?”

  “Like on Crime Time,” Madison said.

  “What’s that?”

  Madison gasped. “Only the best show on television, Dad. When we get to your apartment we are totally going online, and I can show you their website.”

  As soon as they arrived at Dad’s, Madison dragged Dad into his office and told him to boot up his computer. They opened the website for Crime Time. Major DeMille’s face filled the screen of the monitor and then faded to black. A voice crackled over the computer speakers.

  “It’s Crime Time! Do you have what it takes to solve critical crimes?” the voice said. All at once, various images flew across the screen: fingerprints, police badges, the chalk outlines of bodies, and even spatterings of blood.

  “Neat, huh?” Madison said, raising her eyebrows.

  Dad chuckled. “Yes, it’s cool,” he said, clicking a few other buttons on the site. “But is this show violent?”

  “No, no, no! That’s why it’s so much better than those other shows. It’s all about the detective work.” Madison leaned over his shoulder. “Press that, Dad.”

  Dad clicked on a magnifying-glass icon, and a text checklist appeared. They started reading the list together.

  Do You Have What It Takes to Be a Crime Time Detective?

  1. Eyes and ears OPEN. No snoozing on the job if you’re serious about Crime Timing. Sharpen the senses by reading lots of books, asking questions, and listening closely.

  2. Examine a crime scene with smarts. Look for things that seem out of place. Take mental pictures--and written notes.

  3. Collect evidence carefully. That means no trespassing, no poking your nose where it’s not allowed. Finders keepers only if it’s out in the open.

  “What are you two doing in here?” Stephanie asked as she walked into Dad’s office. She had just come home from work.

  Madison perked up. “How’s your arm?” she asked.

  “Ouch,” Stephanie said with a smile. “Thank goodness it isn’t the wrist of the hand I write with. Then I’d really be in trouble.”

  “Hey, Stephanie, have you ever watched Crime Time?” Madison asked.

  She showed Stephanie the website and explained her newfound ambition.

  “A detective!” Stephanie exclaimed. “That’s what I wanted to be when I was your age!”

  “Really?” Madison said, surprised.

  Dad just smiled. “Why don’t I leave you two to the detective chatter, and I’ll go put the finishing touches on dinner?”

  Stephanie collapsed onto the love seat in the corner of Dad’s office and crossed her legs.

  “So what started all this interest in Crime Time?” Stephanie asked Madison. “I’ve seen that show a few times. It’s good.”

  Madison explained about how she was the show’s number-one fan and how she had decided that maybe she could solve crimes, too. After all, she had solved Phinnie’s doggy crime spree. Madison told her about the secret note and the sneakers with pink laces from the library.

  “Sounds like you’re onto something…” Stephanie said.

  “I think so!” Madison said.

  “Believe it or not, Maddie,” Stephanie explained, “sometimes my friends used to call me Sleuthie instead of Stephie at my high school back in Texas.”

  “No way!” Madison said. “That’s so cool! You solved crimes for real?”

  “Well…” Stephanie made a funny face. “Sorta. I didn’t catch any big-time criminals or anything. It was strictly small stuff.”

  Stephanie told Madison a long story about chasing clues around to find out who was painting graffiti on lockers at her Bellville, Texas, high school. After she had located empty paint cans, spotted kids lurking by their lockers late in the day, and noted various suspicious activity, Stephanie prepared to go directly to the principal with the evidence. No one believed her at first, so she poked around some more.

  “That sounds cool,” Madison said. “What did you find out?”

  “I found out that you have to be careful when you start detective work,” Stephanie said. “You may not always understand what you find.”

  “What do you mean?” Madison asked.

  “Sometimes, when you start snooping, you can’t stop. And you may end up jumping to conclusions, or suspecting people who haven’t done anything wrong. It can get messy. I lost one of my close friends that way.”

  “Why? Was she the graffiti artist, or what?”

  Stephanie shook her head. “No, it was a boy—and he wasn’t the artist, but I thought he had paint on his coat, and I suspected him. Our friendship was never the same again.”

  “Wow,” Madison said. “I never thought about it that way. But you know what? Now I know not to snoop where I’m not wanted. I won’t make that mistake. Besides, it’s not like I’m trying to be a real detective. I’m not on Crime Time or anything. This is just some silly thing from school…”

  “I know,” Stephanie nodded. She jumped up from the sofa. “You’ll make a super school detective,” she said, rubbing Madison’s back. “Hey, let’s go eat.”

  They wandered into the dining room.

  Dad’s steak and fries were waiting.

  When she arrived back home, Madison was tired—and she still had math homework to do. She went to her room and powered up her laptop. Phinnie curled up at her feet.

  Of course, fifteen minutes into a set of problems, Madison’s mind wasn’t on numbers at all. She was in her files, clicking, deleting, and organizing. She could finish her math work later—like the next day, in a free period before class.

  Madison scrolled through some of the alphabetized files, her head spinning. In addition to about a hundred files marked Boys and Hart—clearly her favorite subjects—Madison had files on almost every other topic imaginable.

  Bad News

  Class Notes

  The Conspiracy

  The Dance

  Only the Lonely

  Rain

  Surprises

  What I Don’t Know

  Madison laughed at the sight of her extensive files. Reading through the topics like that made her life seem way more interesting than it actually was—at least, more interesting than usual.

  Madison clicked NEW. She wanted to create a new set of files for her detective work. After all, a super sleuth couldn’t work without information at her fingertips. Project number one would be to scan the mysterious scrap of paper Madison had located in the library. Later she could also scan a street map showing the exact location of 411 Marquette Street.

  Madison dug the note out of her bag and placed it onto the scanner. While she was waiting for the machine to make the scan, a light blinked in the corner of the screen.
<
br />   Who would have sent e-mail so late in the day?

  Was Bigwheels in trouble again?

  From: Dantheman

  To: MadFinn

  Subject: The Clinic Needs U

  Date: Tues 12 Oct 7:13 PM

  Yo, Maddie whassup. I’m here w/my mom @ the clinic. Where have u been we miss u. Ok. We really really could use ur help here tomorrow b/c there are like 100 new animals. Ok not a 100 but close. N e way, can u come after school w/me and help out? We need someone who knows the ropes and ur the best. Lemme know.

  Bye,

  Dan

  Madison wrote back immediately. Dantheman was Dan Ginsburg, one of her guy friends at FHJH—and her best friend at the Far Hills Animal Clinic. Together with Dan, Madison volunteered to clean cages, cuddle scared pets that were up for adoption, and even help the clinic’s Dr. Wing prepare for certain veterinary procedures. Once she had assisted when a sick ferret came in for emergency paw surgery.

  Dan didn’t even have to ask if Madison would volunteer. Of course she would! It didn’t matter that Madison was backlogged with homework, flute lessons, and now, her detective work. Madison loved animals very much—maybe even more than Crime Time, if that were possible.

  But if Madison was going to do everything she wanted to do tomorrow, she needed her sleep. She shut down the computer and leaned over Phin.

  “Phinnie…” Madison whispered.

  “Rrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr,” Phin snored.

  Madison kissed the top of his head. “Good night, my doggy prince,” she whispered in his ear before turning out the light.

  Chapter 5

  “MADDIE!” DAN CALLED OUT to Madison in the crowded hallway at school on Wednesday afternoon. “Maddie!”

  Madison nearly crashed into a pack of ninth graders when she heard him.

  “Wait!” Dan yelled again. He was gasping for air by the time he finally caught up to Madison.

  “Dan,” Madison said. “This is so funny. I was just looking for you.”

  “I’ve been looking for you all day,” Dan replied. “I saw you before my science class, but you were outside the music room talking to Mrs. Montefiore, and then later before English, but you were going into Gibbons’s room, and I was going in the other direction…”