Sly the Sleuth and the Sports Mysteries by Donna Jo Napoli Read Free Book Online Page A

point.
Dinner
    â€œFirst, no more having people roll you with the rolling pin.”
    â€œIt didn’t work anyway,” said Brian.
    â€œSecond, no more wearing duct tape rolls and magnets on your ankles.”
    Brian looked away.
    At least he wasn’t a liar. He wouldn’t make a promise he had no intention of keeping.
    â€œWant to tell me why you’re doing these strange things?” I asked.
    â€œBrian,” called his mother from the kitchen door. “Do you want humus for dinner? Or tofu?”
    â€œRaisins,” said Brian.
    His mother shut the door.
    â€œWhat’s humus?” I asked.
    â€œYellow mush.”
    â€œWhat’s tofu?”
    â€œWhite stuff. It jiggles.”
    â€œRaisins are a good choice,” I said.
    He nodded.
    I thought about Brian’s dinner. “Want to eat with us tonight? We’re having chicken and rice.”
    â€œOkay.”
    So I asked Mrs. Olsen and she agreed.
    It was my job to make the rice. I’m good at it. I let Brian help me measure. “Two cups,” I said. “That’s plenty.”
    Brian looked in the pot with dismay. “That’s nothing. We’re going to be hungry.”
    â€œNo we won’t. We’ll add water and boil it, and it will fill the pot.”
    â€œReally?”
    â€œSure, water makes it swell.”
    â€œGood,” said Brian.

Hired
    The phone rang early Sunday morning. It was for me.
    â€œSly, this is Mrs. Olsen.”
    â€œGood morning, Mrs. Olsen.”
    â€œI want to hire you—as Sly the Sleuth.”
    â€œIs it about Brian? About how strange he’s acting?”
    â€œYes,” said Mrs. Olsen.
    Taxi loved Brian. Brian was good to her. He had made her a picnic cooler to sleep in. So Taxi would care about this case. Probably any cat would.
    Plus, I loved Brian too. “I accept the job,” I said.
    â€œHow much money do you charge for being a sleuth?”
    No adult had ever asked me that before. All my past clients had been kids. They paid me with objects, not money. I felt silly to name a price. And I had no idea what the price should be. “For you, nothing,” I said, wondering if I should have asked for ten dollars.
    â€œThen I’ll pay you in cookies,” said Mrs. Olsen.
    I should have asked for ten dollars. “That’s not necessary,” I said.
    â€œOh, I love to bake, don’t worry about that.”
    â€œLet’s count yesterday’s cookies as payment,” I said.
    She laughed. “That’s only the first installment.”
    I gave up. “We might as well get started. Has Brian done anything else strange?”
    â€œThat’s why I’m calling so early. He’s in the bathtub.”
    I’d given Brian a bath before. He made his rubber shark eat his rubber ducklings. Then he made his rubber ducklings gang up against the shark and eat it. He loved baths. “Taking a bath isn’t strange,” I said.
    â€œHe’s been in there for an hour. He says he’s not getting out till it works.”
    That’s what Brian had talked about Saturday—something working. “Till what works?” I asked.
    â€œI have no idea,” said Mrs. Olsen. “He won’t give me a straight answer. But he’s really sad. That’s why I hired you.”
The Blues
    I knocked on the bathroom door. “Want to get out of the tub, Brian?”
    â€œNot till it works.”
    â€œCan I come in?”
    â€œYes.”
    I went in and closed the toilet seat cover and sat on it. Brian was underwater except for the oval of his eyes and nose and mouth.
    â€œWhat’s supposed to work?”
    â€œThe water.”
    I made a show of examining him. “It’s working,” I said.
    â€œReally?” Brian sat up. He inspected his arms and legs. “No it’s not.”
    â€œYou look pretty clean to me,” I said.
    Brian plopped back under the water. “It better