Smashie McPerter and the Mystery of Room 11 Read online

  Room 11 gasped.

  Smashie gestured to Patches’s cage. “The third crime was tricky to discover, because of how we were forbidden to go by this cage the whole day.”

  “Indeed.” Ms. Early glanced at Mr. Carper, but he did not notice. He had seized the moment for a bit of modeling practice and was hunched as if over a prime roast of beef, a plastic knife and fork held above it in attack position.

  “Yes,” said Smashie. “And that was true because Mr. Carper —”

  Mr. Carper’s head flew up. “What?” he said. “Did you say Mrs. True? Has she been asking for me? Is it time to go down to the auditorium?”

  “No,” said Smashie. “I’m only still talking about crime. I am almost done, though.”

  “Well, let’s hurry up, Girl with the Messy Hair,” said Mr. Carper. “I’ve got things to get ready.”

  “My hair is only messy because I had my wig on before,” said Smashie coldly. “Besides, I thought I was Girl with the Ears.”

  “Well, you’re lucky today.” Mr. Carper shrugged. “The hair is worse.”

  “Mr. Carper!” said Ms. Early.

  “What?” said Mr. Carper.

  “As I was saying,” Smashie continued, “one of the reasons we didn’t see much of Patches was that Mr. Carper said we had to keep away, partly because he was punishing us and partly because he said the cage was so filthy. Well, it wasn’t filthy. I don’t like to go near it much, as you kids know, but even I could tell that Joyce had done a very nice job cleaning it the day before.”

  “Thank you,” said Joyce.

  “You are welcome,” said Smashie. “It got me to thinking. I really like Ms. Early a lot. And I felt really bad that she was sick yesterday.”

  “That’s sweet of you, Smashie,” said Ms. Early.

  “I am only part-way sweet, Ms. Early,” said Smashie. “You see, I have a pretty hard time with Patches.”

  “I’ll say,” said Willette.

  “Willette,” said John, “she is giving you cupcakes.”

  Casting a thankful look at him, Smashie went on. “And so even though I really care about Ms. Early, I don’t think I would be able to do something nice for her if it involved Patches. Even to make her feel better. I could never, for example, clean out Patches’s cage. So I thought it was kind of strange this morning when Mr. Carper volunteered to do that. Why would someone who thinks hamsters are germy bundles of yuckiness offer to do a job like that for our teacher?”

  Charlene winced and glanced at the substitute. “Um, Smashie?” she said.

  “Ms. Early is a very wonderful woman,” Jacinda said pointedly.

  “Also pretty,” Alonso added.

  Miss Dismont laughed.

  “Children —” said Ms. Early.

  “Well, it’s true,” said Cyrus. “We all could tell that he —”

  “No!” said Smashie. “I mean, yes, Ms. Early is terrific, but it still didn’t make sense. Mr. Carper kept coming back and coming back, even though he was supposed to be with the kindergarten. And even though Ms. Early didn’t seem all that —”

  “Smashie,” said John, “don’t shame the man.”

  Smashie turned to Mr. Carper. “We know that you didn’t have such a good time with us yesterday, so we aren’t the reason you came back so much, right?”

  “I’ll say,” said Mr. Carper.

  “So how come you did?”

  Mr. Carper shrugged carelessly. “What can I say?” he said. “All the push-pull — the woman clearly finds me fascinating. I was throwing the poor thing a bone.”

  “Excuse me?” said Ms. Early and Miss Dismont in unison.

  But Smashie was shaking her head. “That’s not it. First he offered to clean out the cage. Then he came by again and told her she looked sick and ought to go home. And he was always mad when the room was locked, and he was always mad that we were here.”

  “Who wouldn’t be?” said Mr. Carper. “Look, I have an assembly to go to. I’m going to —”

  Dontel stood up. His eyes met Smashie’s.

  “I think you should hear Smashie out, Mr. Carper.”

  “Yes,” said Smashie. “You should. Room 11, I started thinking about why would someone want us all gone so much? Why would someone be so upset he couldn’t get into our room? And why would that same person want us to stay away from Patches’s cage so bad, even after Patches had disappeared, and why would he offer to clean it?”

  “Because he likes Ms. Early and wanted to look like a good guy?” Cyrus asked.

  “No,” said Smashie. “He was just pretending to like her. What he really wanted was access to the cage itself!”

  “Why, Smashie?” asked Jacinda. “Is he getting a gerbil or something for his own house and wanted to steal our cage to keep it in?”

  “No,” said Smashie. “But that is a good guess. The real reason, Room 11, is that the cage contains the evidence of his crime!”

  “Hey!” shouted Mr. Carper.

  “What are you talking about, Smashie?” Ms. Early cried.

  “I am talking about this!” And Smashie strode quickly to the back of the room to Patches’s cage.

  “Get away from there!” Mr. Carper yelled.

  Be brave, Smashie McPerter! Smashie told herself. There is no hamster in there to be afraid of. And, taking a deep breath, Smashie flung up the latch to the cage and stuck her hand into the bed of wooden shavings.

  Scrabble, scrabble, scrabble!

  “Stop right now, Girl with the Crazy Outfit!” Mr. Carper was in a frenzy.

  “It is not an outfit, Mr. Carper!” cried Smashie, wheeling round. “It is a suit! An Investigator Suit! And it helped me figure out that you are a thief!”

  She drew her hand from Patches’s cage and held aloft the object she had retrieved from beneath his shavings.

  Miss Dismont’s kangaroo pin!

  “I thought I lost that!” cried Miss Dismont.

  “You didn’t, Miss Dismont,” said Smashie. “Mr. Carper stole it!”

  “You’re crazy!” yelled Mr. Carper.

  “No, I’m not! He stole it when we were in Mrs. Armstrong’s office yesterday morning, Room 11, when she was questioning us about the glue.”

  “Yes!” said Dontel. “I get it all now! He was over by the cage when we came back — he must have just finished hiding it!”

  “So that’s why he jumped a mile when he saw us,” said Jacinda. She and the rest of Room 11 turned accusing eyes on Mr. Carper.

  “I don’t have to take this,” he said. “I don’t care if I never substitute in the Rebecca Lee Crumpler Elementary School ever again!”

  He leaped to his feet and made as if to move to the door, but only stood, red faced and wriggling furiously in place.

  “I can’t move!” he shouted. “I’m stuck! My shoes have been glued to the floor!”

  At Ms. Early’s request, Smashie had gone to get Mrs. Armstrong, who now stood in Room 11, looming over the dishonest substitute. Mrs. True stood beside her.

  “I’d’ve gotten away with it, too,” Mr. Carper snarled, “if it hadn’t been for you kids and all your blasted thinking.”

  Ms. Early’s eyes flashed. “Smart, kind, thinking children are the best sort of children there are, Mr. Carper, and luckily Room 11 is full of nothing but!”

  “I second that,” said Miss Dismont.

  “Oh, Marlon,” moaned Mrs. True. “I never thought this would be the way we would be brought together! Why did you do it? Why?”

  “It’s all your fault, True,” growled Mr. Carper. “If you’d’ve just cast me in the circular last week when you saw me in the grocery store, I wouldn’t have had to steal that stupid brooch to woo you with.”

  “Woo me? By stealing?” Mrs. True pressed her hand to her chest. “For shame, Marlon! And believe me when I say that I would never let the face of a dishonest man represent the TrueYum!”

  “For my part,” said Mrs. Armstrong, “I AM ILL IN THE HOSPITAL WITH A NURSE TAKING MY PULSE at the thought tha
t such an awful person has been substituting in our school! I am taking this miscreant to my office at once to await the authorities.”

  “You can’t,” sneered Mr. Carper. “I’m stuck.”

  “Remove your shoes. I shall take you in your stocking feet.”

  “Room 11,” said Mrs. True as Mr. Carper bent over his shoelaces, his teeth gnashing, “you have saved me from a nasty surprise. Thank you.”

  “Our pleasure,” said Smashie.

  “I speak for the whole of the TrueYum Grocery Mart,” said Mrs. True, “when I say we would be honored if Room 11 would star in our upcoming circular!”

  “Us?”

  “Yay!”

  “We’d love to!”

  Mr. Carper stopped untying his shoes to throw back his head and howled, “Noooooo!”

  “That is quite enough, Mr. Carper,” said Mrs. Armstrong sternly. “Feet out. Come along.”

  And she led the wrathful sub out the door and down the hall, Mrs. True following behind them.

  It was much later. The TrueYum nutrition assembly was over. Smashie and Dontel had given Willette her cupcakes and she had waved them away from taking up her broom to do the sweeping. Mr. Bloom had brought both Patches and the gluing materials back to Room 11. Now the class was using the final period of the day to process all the strange events that had happened. Miss Dismont had joined them, and as a special treat, Ms. Early set Patches’s cage on her desk so everyone could see him. Patches was darting about, settling back into his home.

  Scrabble, scrabble, scrabble, went his paws.

  “Isn’t he the sweetest?” breathed Willette.

  “He’s the best and bravest hamster ever,” John declared.

  “Smashie,” said Miss Dismont, “I still don’t think I completely understand. I only lost my brooch this morning.”

  “No, Miss Dismont.” Smashie shook her head. “You only discovered it was missing this morning is all. Mr. Carper stole it yesterday, when you all were away on your field trip to the Natural History Museum.”

  “He must have hatched his plan to steal your brooch when he read the morning announcements and learned that Mrs. True would be at the assembly,” said Dontel. “When he realized that your class would be gone for the day, he knew the coast would be clear to steal it.”

  “He knew it would be the perfect wooing present for Mrs. True.” Joyce nodded.

  “It really is beautiful,” said Cyrus, glancing at the brooch pinned, once more, on Miss Dismont’s shoulder. The class nodded in agreement.

  “Dontel,” said Smashie, “did you really think I was having a court just to rat out Billy?”

  “I didn’t know what to think,” Dontel admitted. “It didn’t seem like you to do like that, but you were so determined! I had no idea you were thinking about Mr. Carper the whole time.”

  “It all happened so quickly,” said Smashie. “I figured it out all at once, when we were talking to Billy. I guess I just thought you figured it out when I did. I couldn’t understand why you seemed so disappointed in me. I am really sorry. I was too hectic. I should have slowed down and talked it all over with you.”

  “No, I’m sorry,” said Dontel. “I should have known you would never do something so mean. I think you did a swell piece of thinking, Smashie. And I’d’ve done the same if I’d thought of it.” He thought a minute. “Maybe not with a court of law, though,” he said at last. “I think maybe I would just have explained things to Mrs. Armstrong and let her come find the brooch.”

  “Hrrm,” said Smashie.

  “What I can’t make sense of,” said Ms. Early, “aside from Mr. Carper’s decision to commit a crime, is why he hid the brooch in our cage to begin with. Why not just put it in his pocket?”

  “It is a pretty big brooch, Ms. Early,” said Dontel. “And Mr. Carper doesn’t believe in keeping things in his pockets.”

  “He says it mars the line of the clothes,” said Alonso.

  “Well, I am very proud of all your smart thinking, Smashie and Dontel,” said Ms. Early. “You considered things carefully and well. And all in the name of justice! I couldn’t be more pleased.”

  Take that, detective in Mrs. Marquise’s mystery story! Smashie thought, and she caught Dontel’s eye and beamed.

  “Me, either,” said Charlene. “Thank you, Smashie.”

  “Yes,” said John. “Put it here, Smashie.” And he shook Smashie’s hand.

  “Thank you, John,” she said, shaking back.

  “I’m sorry I was so mad at you about Patches, Smashie,” said Joyce. “Please forgive me?”

  “I’m sorry, too!”

  “And me!”

  “And me!”

  Smashie’s heart bloomed. “Heck, it’s okay,” she said. “And I’m sorry I made you all feel bad about Patches, Room 11. I shouldn’t have been so rude.”

  “Don’t worry about it. You and Dontel are terrific!” And the class gathered around the two sleuths, slapping their backs and bathing them in thank-yous and smiles.

  Basking in their classmates’ approbation, Smashie and Dontel looked shyly at their feet. The weight of the previous days’ worries fell away from Smashie’s shoulders at last.

  “Smashie and Dontel weren’t the only ones with great ideas today,” Jacinda said with a smile. “That was some pretty quick thinking on your part, too, Billy. Not just about Patches. I mean gluing Mr. Carper to the floor like that.”

  “It wasn’t me,” said Billy.

  “Oh, come on. It’s okay to confess. We aren’t mad at you anymore.”

  But Billy shook his head. “It wasn’t me, I tell you!”

  “He’s right.” Siggie stood up. “It was me.”

  “You’re the gluer, Siggie?”

  “You?”

  “But why?”

  “I don’t rightly know,” said Siggie. He twisted his fingers and stared at the floor.

  “I knew Billy wasn’t the gluer,” Dontel whispered to Smashie.

  “You did,” Smashie replied, awed. “I am sorry, Dontel. I shouldn’t have been so quick to blame him.”

  Joyce had overheard. “You knew, Dontel?” she asked. “Really?”

  “Yes,” Dontel admitted. “I did. And . . .” He glanced at Siggie. “I was pretty sure it was you, Siggie.”

  Siggie’s jaw dropped. So did Smashie’s.

  Ms. Early held up her hand. “We’ll come back to that,” she said. “But first, Siggie, I think you’d better explain.”

  “It all started in art,” Siggie began. “I was using one of those little pots of glue on my diorama. You know — the kind with the brush attached to the lid. Brushing on the glue felt so smooth and gooshy and nice that I kept on doing it. I brushed glue across my ruler without even noticing I did it. I was just enjoying how it felt. Then I forgot to put the jar away when we were cleaning up. I only realized it when we were in line and about to go, so I just stuck it in my pocket. I was going to return it later. But then Mr. Flange got stuck to the ruler and everyone thought it was Billy —” Siggie broke off, biting his lip.

  “And you were kind of glad that everyone was mad at him,” said Dontel.

  Siggie nodded.

  “But why?” asked Ms. Early.

  Siggie’s eyes were downcast. “He plays a lot of jokes on people,” he said finally. “And sometimes they’re mean.” He raised his eyes and looked steadily at Billy. “That tarantula in my cubby was awful, Billy.”

  “I know,” said Billy. “Sorry, Siggie. I guess I can see why you wanted to pay me back.”

  John shook his head. “That’s not cool, Siggie. We’re best friends and you let me blame Billy! After all I’ve done for you.” He turned grave eyes to Billy. “Billy,” he said, “I’m sorry I’ve been so hard on you.”

  “No sweat,” said Billy. He was already looking happier and more rested than he had in days.

  Siggie, on the other hand, looked abashed. “Gosh, Billy, I’m sorry, too. It got out of hand,” he said. “I’m sorry, John. For real.”

/>   “Hmmm,” said John, looking darkly at his friend.

  “But I don’t get why you went on to glue Alonso,” said Jacinda.

  “That first time with Mr. Flange gave me kind of a taste for it, I guess. And I had the glue right in my pocket.” Siggie’s lips curved, and then he burst out laughing. “I’m sorry,” he gasped. “I’m just remembering how Alonso’s hand looked —” He broke off, unable to speak for giggles.

  “I know what you mean,” said Billy. “Like when I think about John’s pirate costume and the Halloween parade —” His eyes brightened and he began to beam.

  “Don’t do it, Billy,” Dontel muttered, glancing at John’s stormy face.

  “Right,” said Billy, and he schooled his features.

  “Siggie,” said Ms. Early, “I am very disappointed in you. As a result of your actions, we are going to have to work hard to bring trust back into Room 11. I think you will owe the class a much more formal apology. And Mrs. Armstrong and I will need to set some consequences for your behavior.”

  Siggie nodded, eyes downcast, all traces of giggles gone. “I deserve them,” he said. “I shouldn’t’ve done it and let the whole class take the heat. I apologize, everyone.”

  “Hrmmm,” said the class.

  “On the other hand,” said Ms. Early, “I am very pleased that we were able to apprehend Mr. Carper through Siggie’s quick thinking this afternoon.”

  “Me too, Siggie,” said Billy. “Otherwise, I bet the class would have thought I was the brooch thief as well.”

  “Nah,” said Alonso. “Sometimes you are kind of a pain, but we know you are a good guy at heart.”

  “Thanks,” said Billy.

  “How did you guess it was Siggie, Dontel?” asked Charlene.

  “After Smashie and I helped Alonso get his balaclava helmet off his hand, I remembered I saw a piece of fuzz fall off Siggie’s hand when he came in from lunch,” Dontel said. “So I picked it up and put it in my pocket. I don’t really know why — I think I must have had some kind of hunch. And then today it came to me — the fuzz from Siggie’s hand looked a lot like the fuzz we had scrubbed off Alonso yesterday. I was pretty sure it was a match and that Siggie had gotten the fuzz on his hand when he was sneaking the glue onto Alonso’s hat.” And he reached in his pocket and pulled out a tiny fluff of yarn.