Just Your Average Gumshoe
by Meredith B. Hi, I’m Sherlock Jr., a detective in training. I solve your problems while you wait . . . Sorry, I’m just pulling your leg. My real name is Beany. Isn’t that a stupid name? Anyway, I have dedicated my life to solving mysteries and making people bow down in awe when they hear my name. I studied the tricks of the trade until one day I got my first big break. One day, at my favorite ice cream store, I heard the name Trickie Slie. It rang a bell, but I couldn’t remember where I’d heard it before. Sprinting home, I Googled Trickie Slie. The headline read “WORLD FAMOUS EMBEZZLER! ESCAPED $1,000,000 REWARD!” My mind whirled; suddenly a plan sprung to mind. I waited for my mom; it was like she was on a slow boat to China. When I told her my amazing plan, it was like I’d just gotten away with murder. “You’ve lost your marbles!” my mother exclaimed. “No way that’s happening. Pigs will fly before I’ll let you do that!” Apparently she thought I had bats in my belfry. It was time to take the bull by the horns . . . by myself. So what’s my evil plan? To capture Trickie Slie of course. Hold your horses—I’ll tell you the details later. Don’t worry, it’s an A1 idea. I had to think, so I went to my favorite ice cream shop, the Créme de la Créme. It really lives up to its name. My mom doesn’t approve of the plan, so I had to sneak there. Luckily it’s open around the clock. Now for the bait. I read up on Trickie Slie and found that she will kill for the newest collector teddy bear, so I bought it and put it up in the window of the Créme de la Créme. She had to put her name, address, and phone number in the box in order to have a chance of aquiring the bear. I was sure I had my cat in the bag. My cell phone rang, ding-a-ling-a-ling. Oh no, it’s my mom! I had to get home. It was time to face the music. I hoped all this trouble was worth it because my mom was really going to run off at the mouth about how I ran away and she was worried sick and thought I was kidnapped. ( Really now mom.) She really read me the riot act that night and I had to sneak out. I ran away and checked on the raffle. No contestants yet. My plot to worm the information out of Trickie Slie wasn’t working. After getting out of my three-week grounding for running away, I checked the raffle basket—still no answer. I was about ready to spit the dummy. All of a sudden a strange lady entered her name. I pretended to draw the raffle and read the name: Trickie Slie! The undercover officer sitting in the booth in front of mine jumped up and grabbed her. Finally, Trickie Slie was behind bars. |