Edgar Allan's Official Crime Investigation Notebook (6 page)

There were five minutes of class left, and they were supposed to be quietly brainstorming ideas for more poems on a page in their notebooks. Mr. Crew was busy putting up the poems from yesterday on his bulletin board.

Edgar decided to blow his nose. As he passed by Destiny's desk on his way to get a tissue, he peeked at the poem in her notebook. He walked as slowly as possible, but he could only read the first line. He grabbed a tissue, went back to his seat, blew his nose, and wrote down the first line of her poem. He had to go back four times in order to write it all down. And it was lucky he finished because Mr. Crew told him no more tissues.

What Am I?


by Destiny Perkins


I weep.


My graceful arms hang with the weight


of sadness.


Once I heard happy voices beneath me.


Now…silence.


Edgar read the poem five times. What did it mean? Mr. Crew was right. Poems are like mysteries that must be cracked open in order to be understood. He would have to think about this one for a while.

Before the bell rang, he needed to finish a new riddle poem, since Patrick had stolen his pencil poem. He rubbed his nose, which was sore from all the nose blowing, and wished he could think of a funny one like Taz. An idea came to him.

What Am I?


by Edgar Allan


Sometimes I run


Sometimes I'm stuffed


Sometimes one tissue


Is not enough.


I deliver all smells


From sour to sweet


Just don't ask me


To smell your feet.


Edgar held it up and read it over to himself. He liked it!

Behind him, Taz laughed. “Hey, let me see that!”

Edgar handed him the notebook.

Great poem, dude!

For once Edgar didn't mind that Taz had written in his notebook.

Teriyaki meatballs, salad, sliced peaches, milk, and a cookie. Edgar hardly paid attention to what he was carrying on his lunch tray. Destiny was ahead of him, sitting down at a crowded table. He wanted to sit close enough to overhear any important conversations, and there was only one spot left at her table. As he walked toward it, he noticed Sammy and Kip were headed in the same direction. Edgar walked faster, not noticing the sliced peach that was on the floor in his path.
Sloosh!
His foot hit it and he slipped and fell. Meatballs rolled, salad somersaulted, peaches plummeted, milk spilled, and the cookie crumbled.

“Way to go, Edgar!” Clarice Stolnup shouted out.

Mr. Browning gave Clarice a look that made her close her mouth. Then the nice custodian helped Edgar clean up.

Lunch was almost over by the time Edgar finally sat down with a new tray too far from Destiny's table to hear a thing. Oh well, recess would be the perfect time to spy on her, he thought. But just as he was taking a bite out of his cookie, Ms. Cassatt stopped by to remind him to
come to the art room and finish painting his mask. Of all the rotten luck.

He gulped the rest of his lunch, ran to the art room, and began to paint his mask bright blue. While he was there, Ms. Barrett came in, her pretty face flushed and nervous. She pulled a stool over to Ms. Cassatt's desk, and Edgar couldn't help overhearing their hushed conversation.

“Did you give him the card?” Ms. Cassatt asked.

“Yes! But he hasn't said anything all day. I'm so embarrassed.”

“Maybe he just didn't get it.”

“I slipped it under the door of his supply closet yesterday. He had to have seen it.”

“Maybe he's waiting for the right moment. What did you write in it?”

“A poem,” Ms. Barrett whispered.

“Oh, that's so romantic! He loves poetry! He's always reading poetry.”

“I know!”

Edgar began putting white and black and red dots on his mask. It was odd to hear teachers talking like this. It sounded like Ms. Barrett was in love! Edgar wondered who they were talking about.

Ms. Cassatt jumped. “There he is! Ask him!”

Edgar looked out the door and saw Mr. Browning walking by with a ladder.

Ms. Barrett pulled the other teacher back. “
Shh!
”

Edgar got out his notebook.

Ms. Barrett wrote a love poem on a card and left it in Mr. Browning's supply closet! Ms. Barrett has a secret side. Does every teacher?


He put the last spot of paint on his mask. The shape of the mask was his face, but the colors and designs made the mask look bold and powerful. Is this the real me or am I a boring, ordinary boy? he wondered. He washed his brushes and asked if he could go.

Finding Destiny was easy. She was where she always was during recess: sitting underneath the willow tree on the far end of the playground. But the picture was incomplete. Maia was usually with her. Where was Maia? She wasn't on the basketball court or by the giant chessboard or with Sammy and the other kids playing soccer in the field. He walked to the side of the building and peeked around the corner. Maia and Gabriela were there! Why were they hiding?

Edgar wondered if he had his theory backward: Maybe Destiny was staying away from Maia because she had become a thief with Gabriela!

“Let's start at the beginning again,” Maia said.

The two girls stood back to back.

“
Uno, dos, tres, cuatro
,” Gabriela said, and then they began to dance.

Dance? What kind of thieves danced? Edgar stepped out from his hiding place. Maia stopped and made a face. “This is a
private
rehearsal.”

“For what?”

“You know how Gabriela is the Star of the Month?” Maia asked.

Edgar knew.
He
had hoped to be chosen.

“Well,” Maia continued. “She wanted to do a Mexican folk dance for her Star-of-the-Month talent, and I said I do Mexican folk dancing, and so she asked me if I would do a dance with her.”

Gabriela smiled and nodded.

“Go away so we can practice,” Maia said.

Edgar walked back to the main playground and sat on the tree stump. Back to investigating Destiny. He glanced at the willow tree, where Destiny was still sitting, and read over her poem again.

What Am I?


by Destiny Perkins


I weep.


My graceful arms hang


with the weight of sadness.


once I heard happy voices


beneath me.


Now…silence.


An idea hit him like a ray of sunlight.

I think I cracked the mystery of Destiny's riddle poem. The answer is
willow tree
! The willow tree has graceful arms that hang down and it's weeping because Destiny and Maia used to sit beneath it and talk happily, and now there
is only silence. Why is there only silence? Because Destiny is alone!


Maia and Destiny have been best friends since first grade. Now Maia isn't hanging out with Destiny anymore. I think Gabriela came along and stole Destiny's best friend! I think Destiny is sad and lonely!


Can sadness be a motive for stealing something? Or maybe she is jealous?


Did she steal the goldfish to get revenge on Maia for leaving her in the dust? Has she decided to turn to a life of crime?


Patrick is watching me! I cannot give away the fact that Destiny is my prime suspect. I will pretend to be observing somebody else.


I was pretending to observe Kip who was sitting on the bottom of the slide, eating a candy bar, and then Clarice Stolnup came along and stole the candy right out of Kip's hand. Kip got up to chase after her, but his shoe was untied and he tripped. Guess who went after Clarice and got the candy back for Kip?


Taz!


Life is a surprise.


Edgar was on a roll! After recess was over, it was time for social studies in Mr. Crew's room, and Edgar knew what he wanted to investigate: the metaphor poems from yesterday that were on the bulletin board. He hurried to class and searched until he found Destiny's.

Friend

   by Destiny Perkins

A true friend swims

close to you

never leaving you

all alone

in the dirty water

of life.

Edgar understood it! She wasn't really talking about a fish. She was talking about her former best friend. Maia was the fish who swam away to be with Gabriela!

“Have a seat, class,” Mr. Crew called out.

Edgar sat down. Destiny came in a moment later,
hugging her notebook to her chest, and quietly took her seat.

Now that I have read Destiny's poems, I know more about her. She is sad, sad, sad.


Is everybody hiding some kind of sad secret inside them? I guess some people have sadness in them and some people don't. I bet Taz is always in a good mood because he is always cracking jokes. I bet Patrick is never sad, either, because he is always succeeding in everything he does. They have it easy. Like my brother.


As Mr. Crew began his lesson on Mexico's history, Edgar began to reconstruct the crime from Destiny's point of view. On that fateful morning, she must have arrived early and found Ms. Herschel's classroom empty. She sat down, feeling miserable. Perhaps she looked over at Slurpy and recalled that her former best friend, Maia Gomez, had given the goldfish to the class as a gift. Angry, she wrote the poetic note, taped it to the board, and picked up Slurpy . . . but how? Did she put the fish in a bowl? And then what? If she left the classroom, certainly someone would have seen her walking around with a goldfish: Edgar's brown eyes grew bigger. She must have hid it in Ms. Hershel's room. But where? Maybe, just maybe, the fish was in Destiny's cubby!

He jumped up.

“What is it, Edgar?”

“I need to use the bathroom.”

“You just got back from recess, Edgar. You can go after class. Have a seat.”

“I have to use the bathroom, too,” Sammy said.

“No bathroom breaks now,” Mr. Crew said.

The lesson on Aztec trade and transportation went in one ear and out the other. Edgar simply could not concentrate. Today was PE, so after social studies, they went straight to the gym, which was on the opposite side of the school.

Finally, PE was over and they were heading back to Ms. Herschel's room for end-of-day dismissal. Edgar walked as fast as he possibly could. He wanted to be the first one there so he could look in Destiny's cubby and discover the goldfish!

Ms. Herschel was sitting at her desk grading papers when he rushed in.

“How was PE?” she asked.

“Fine!” Edgar zoomed straight to the back of the room. He found Destiny's cubby. In it was a pink jacket, a purple book bag, and a small twig with two graceful willow leaves.

No Slurpy.

“What are you looking at?” Patrick's voice made Edgar jump.

“Nothing!” Edgar said and rushed to his own cubby.

Patrick peered into Destiny's cubby.

“What are you looking at?” Destiny's voice made Patrick jump.

“Nothing!” Patrick said and glared at Edgar. “You don't know what you're doing, Edgar. I don't know why I'm bothering to keep my eye on you.”

It's true. I don't know what I'm doing. If I were a butterfly, my wings would be torn. If I were a number, I'd be zero.