On the Case (From the Files of Madison Finn, 17) (10 page)

Madison’s jaw dropped.

Fiona stopped crying instantly.

“That is so mean,” Madison said.

“Well, it’s true,” Aimee said.

As upset as Fiona had been, she now realized that she needed to switch gears. She needed to keep the peace.

But it was too late.

“We don’t all have to go to the movies just because you want to go,” Aimee said. “We don’t all automatically like the things you like.”

“Huh?” Madison said feeling flustered.

“Aim…” Fiona tried to step in.

“And why
aren’t
you going on Wednesday to the movies?” Madison asked.

Aimee shrugged. “I told you why. Because I don’t want to see some dumb detective movie.”

“Detective movies are not dumb!” Madison cried.

“You mean they’re not dumb like
me
?” Aimee snapped back.

“I told you I was sorry about saying that before…” Madison said. “Aimee, this isn’t fair.”

Aimee rolled her eyes. “What isn’t fair?”

“Stop being mad at me!” Madison declared.

“Should we bake some cookies now?” Fiona asked meekly.

Aimee looked over at Fiona. “Cookies?”

Madison giggled. “That’s a great idea, Fiona. Bake cookies.”

“Well, what am I supposed to say?” Fiona asked aloud. She still sounded sniffly. “I feel like a referee lately!”

“Oh, Fiona, I’m sorry,” Aimee said first.

Madison apologized, too. “Maybe baking cookies isn’t such a bad idea after all,” she added.

They headed down to Fiona’s kitchen together, and for the moment, things felt peaceful again.

But Madison knew the truth.

On the surface, things were all cookie batter and smiles, but underneath, something still felt wrong between her and Aimee.

It was like a BFF mystery.

And Madison wasn’t sure she was up to solving it.

O
N SUNDAY, MADISON AND
Aimee didn’t really talk, either on the phone or online. Madison worried that Aimee was still angry. So when Monday morning rolled around, she searched the school hallways for her BFF. She needed to make things right—100 percent right.

The problem was, Madison couldn’t find Aimee outside the girl’s restroom or in front of their lockers. And she wasn’t at early lunch, either. Someone said Aimee was out sick. But Madison didn’t know if she could believe
that.

Was Aimee just avoiding her?

Outside Mrs. Wing’s technology classroom, Madison looked up and down the hall for Aimee as she waited for the bell to ring. Everyone gathered around the door waiting for the students from the previous class period to exit the room.

Egg bounced up to Madison and slapped her on the back. Drew stood nearby.

“Lost?” Egg said as he teasingly slapped Madison again.

“Please don’t hit me,” Madison groaned.

“That wasn’t a hit. It was a friendly tap,” Drew said.

Egg gave Drew a high five when he said that.

“Aw, you’re both so lame,” Madison said with disgust.

“Huh? Why am I lame?” Egg asked.

“Actually, you are the lamest,” Madison said.

“Hey! What’s wrong with you?” Egg said.

“You and Fiona had a fight, right?” Madison asked.

“Not really,” Egg said. “And anyway, we made up already.”

“Oh, I didn’t know you made up. I guess I’m misinformed,” Madison said sarcastically.

“Misinformed? Brain-dead is more like it,” Egg joked. Drew was laughing, too. “Actually, wait a minute! I think I have your dead brain right here…”

Egg pointed to some dried gum on the bottom of his sneaker.

Madison let out a huge sigh of exasperation. “You make me crazy!” she cried. “Both of you!”

“Leave me out of this!” Drew said.

Egg was already on to the next subject.

“My sister said she saw you last Friday,” Egg said.

“I bumped into her and her friend on the sidewalk. They were going to a party,” Madison said.

“What were you doing there?” Egg asked.

Madison avoided his question. “Do you know Mariah’s friend Penelope?” she asked instead.

“You mean the squeaky freak?” Egg said, cackling a little. Drew laughed again, too.

“That’s mean!” Madison said, although she couldn’t help laughing, too.

Egg was right. Penelope
was
squeaky and she
was
a little freaky. Madison guessed that it was those qualities that made her a likely suspect. Unfortunately, being “freaky” didn’t qualify as hard evidence. Madison would have to keep searching for answers elsewhere.

“Egg, did you ask your mom if you could come to the movies this week?” Drew asked, elbowing Egg in the side.

Egg nodded. “She said yes. I told you!”

“What about you, Maddie?” Drew asked.

Madison nodded. “Absolutely. I really want to see
Curse of the Diamond
.”

“Fiona’s coming,” Egg added with a satisfied look. “She told me her mom okayed the day. Chet’s coming, too.”

Madison waited for some word on whether Hart, too, had confirmed his attendance at the movie afternoon, but none came.

Mrs. Wing pushed open the classroom door and the departing class of eighth-grade students flooded into the hall. As the crowd filtered out, Egg, Drew, and Madison pushed their way inside, where Mrs. Wing had written out the class work on the board. It was a free day. Everyone worked on an assigned topic that helped him or her to tackle Internet problems or surf the web for information.

The day’s topic had Madison doing a happy double take.

Written across Mrs. Wing’s chalkboard were two questions.

Where are the best places to look for online information?

How can the Internet help us all to be better detectives?

What an omen! Madison thought. She couldn’t believe that that subject was coming up that day, of all days. Being a detective was
in.

“I’m going to check out the FBI website!” Drew announced.

“That’s so cool,” Egg said. “I’m going to try a search engine.”

As excited as she was by the topic, Madison just stared at her computer. Finally, she typed in the web address for
Crime Time.
It was the ideal place in which to get tips on being a detective. Madison could do the assigned class work
and
read about old
Crime Time
episodes at the same time (as long as Mrs. Wing wasn’t looking, of course).

As she surfed the
Crime Time
site, Madison’s brain buzzed with theories on the school theft. Madison knew that Penelope seemed guilty, but she also knew that Mr. Olivetti seemed nervous, as if maybe he were guilty, too. It had turned into a plot right out of a TV mystery movie. The thief could be
anyone.

After Mrs. Wing’s class ended, Madison decided that she needed to start interrogating suspects. First would be Mr. Olivetti. Madison worked up the nerve to confront him that afternoon at her flute lesson. Maybe his music room had more clues hidden in it. She would find out.

Unfortunately, when she showed up outside Mr. Olivetti’s classroom, there was no Mr. Olivetti.

She spotted a hastily written note taped to the door.

Student! I had an emergency and had to leave the building, so no private lesson. I am sorry. Please reschedule with school secretary.

Thank you.

Mr. Olivetti

Madison tried the door. It was locked.

Drat.

She couldn’t believe it. An emergency? Didn’t Mr. Olivetti realize that collecting evidence was the true emergency? She peered into the room through the glass door, hoping some clue would jump out at her.

But the room was dark.

This is awfully convenient, Madison thought as she stood in front of the music room. “I decide to question Mr. Olivetti, and he disappears!”

The longer Madison stood there thinking, the more she began to wonder if maybe—just maybe—Mr. Olivetti himself had something to do with the theft. What if his sudden “emergency” were in fact merely a plan to divert attention while he… committed more crimes?

This wasn’t just the plot of any ordinary mystery movie of the week. This was way better.

Whatever the case, Madison needed to reschedule her flute lesson. She headed down to the school secretary’s office, as Mr. Olivetti had requested in his note. Maybe she could get another lesson tomorrow.

The school secretary at the desk was Dot. She was busy making copies.

“Can I help you?” Dot yelled over the loud hum of the copy machine.

“My name is Madison Finn. I am one of Mr. Olivetti’s students,” Madison said.

“Oh, yes,” Dot said, turning off the copier. “Mr. Olivetti said that he would be sending kids down here to have their music lessons reassigned. Let me see where I put his calendar. Just a sec…”

She disappeared into the side room and came out with a datebook.

“Looks like tomorrow is mostly free,” Dot said. “Can you do that?”

Madison nodded emphatically. That was perfect. The sooner she could interrogate Mr. Olivetti, the better.

“So, we’ll just pencil you in here for three-thirty, okay? Anything else I can help you with?” Dot asked, smiling.

Madison was about to turn and walk away, but she stopped herself.

“Actually, yes, there is something else,” Madison said. “I know… well, I heard… that some very important material was stolen from the school…”

“Oh? You heard?” Dot said.

“Yes,” Madison stammered. “And… well, I was wondering if you had any more details about the theft. Like, are there any suspects?”

“I’m sorry, Madison, but school policy doesn’t allow me to give you any of that information.”

“Really?” Madison said. “Well, it’s not like I’m asking you to tell me anything important. Can’t you tell me a little bit about what happened? I have heard conflicting things and…”

“No can do,” Dot said, clicking her tongue. “Sorry, sweets. That’s not information we make available to students. Once the problem has been resolved, then I am sure Principal Bernard will make everything known to the students.”

Madison wanted to scream. How could she be a good detective if she wasn’t even able to figure out what it was that she needed to detect? She needed corroboration of the identities of her suspects. She needed the evidence. She needed a way to convince Dot that
she
was more than just any old student. Madison Francesca Finn was the one person who could solve this crime.

“Look, Madison, I’d love to spill the beans,” Dot said with a wink. “But the truth is I don’t know anything. An investigation with the school panel is strictly hush-hush. So, you’d better be on your way, dear.”

Madison hung her head and walked out of the secretary’s office. She headed back toward her locker.

As her luck would have it, Ivy was standing nearby. She was going through papers in her bag. Luckily, the drones were nowhere in sight.

“Hello, Ivy,” Madison said, trying to be nice as she walked by.

“Why so bummed out?” Ivy asked. “Did Hart just dump you?”

Madison whirled around and stood toe-to-toe with the enemy.

“I’m so sick of you,” she growled at Ivy.

“You’re sick of me? I’m sicker of you! Just get lost,” Ivy snapped.

“
You
get lost,” Madison said.

Ivy cracked up. “Oh, you mean lost like you?”

“Why are you always following me?” Madison asked.

“Excuse me?” Ivy said with disbelief. “I’m following you?”

“That’s right!” Madison said. “Wherever I go, you’re there. I think you’re following me. I just want you to tell me why!”

Madison chuckled to herself. This was an old detective trick she’d read about on the
Crime Time
site. The trick was to accuse someone of following
oneself.
It was an ideal way to throw people off the trail or smoke criminals out of their hiding places. Madison waited to see what the technique would do to Ivy.

“Follow you? Like I would
ever
follow you!” Ivy said, practically spitting. She tossed her hair and walked down the hall without once looking back.

Madison watched Ivy shake her hips as she took off. For a moment, she wished that Ivy
were
the school thief. It would be a lot of fun to catch the enemy red-handed.

Madison opened her locker and stuffed the homework she needed into her orange bag. She took an extra minute to straighten up the books and other objects inside the locker.

Taped inside the door, Madison saw a teeny photo of Major DeMille that she had downloaded from the Internet. He was smiling.

Madison smiled right back at him. “I’m working on my suspect list,” she whispered to the picture. No one was close enough to her locker to hear.

One by one, Madison convinced herself, she would knock the suspects off the list for good.

She wouldn’t stop until she was able to catch the real thief—and prove herself a real detective.

On Tuesday afternoon, Madison was grateful to see that Mr. Olivetti had returned to school for his regular (and rescheduled) lessons.

She put on her detective’s thinking cap and approached the music room cautiously. There was work to be done.

“Hello, Miss-a-Madison!” Mr. Olivetti called out. “Have-a-you been practicing your scales?”

Madison nodded. She didn’t say much at first. She took her flute out of its case and prepared to warm up. Her plan was to play a few scales, get tired, sit down, take a drink of water, and then start right in on the questioning. She would ask Mr. Olivetti about
everything.

Ask questions. Expect answers.

She had every last detail planned out to the exact minute.

But Madison wasn’t prepared for what actually happened: it was Mr. Olivetti who insisted on sitting down to talk.

“I must-a-tell you what-a-happened to me yesterday,” Mr. Olivetti confessed.

Madison was all ears.

“I felt so bad to leave-a-my students like that. But I was too upset to teach anymore. You see, I had some private and valuable materials stolen from me.

“You did?” Madison said, playing it straight.

“Yes, I had this old sheet-a-music,” Mr. Olivetti explained. “Ancient papers. A family heirloom. I had the sheets packaged in acid-free paper at the store and picked them up before school one-a-day, but, then,
poof!”