Sixty-Second Solutions 11

Sgt. Frank McDaniel’s turkey was AWOL.

The sergeant and his wife had opened the refrigerator on Thanksgiving morning, ready to put the pop the plump bird into the oven, but found an empty space on the bottom shelf where the turkey should have been.

After rousing their two children, Tom and Mary, who had no idea what happened to the bird, he called his neighbor, Samantha Spade.

Spade was in seventh grade, two years older than Tom and three years older than Mary, but her reputation as an excellent amateur detective had spread to people and students of all ages in the city of Sallami.

Samantha came right over, her hair still dripping wet from the shower. The McDaniel’s dog, Ginger, met her at the front door. She jumped on Samantha and licked her face while Samantha struggled to remove her coat.

“At ease, Ginger,” Samantha giggled, pushing the dog down. For a recruiting sergeant who prized discipline, Sgt. McDaniel had one of the worst-behaved dogs ever.

Mary grabbed the dog by its collar and pulled it off Samantha. “Get down, you dumb mutt!” she yelled. Mary had dark circles under her eyes, and Samantha had never heard her speak to Ginger so sharply.

“Somebody got up on the wrong side of the bed,” Samantha said.

“Don’t mind her,” said Mrs. McDaniel. “We went out to dinner and to see a movie last night and didn’t get home until late. She usually sacks out in the backseat on the way home, but couldn’t because of all the noise from the muffler.”

Sergeant McDaniel explained that their car’s exhaust system was going bad again, only one month after they had it replaced. The whole family had heard it rumbling last night.

“Dear, I think she’d rather hear about the turkey?” asked Mrs. McDaniel.

The sergeant ran his fingers through his crew cut as he led her to the kitchen.

“It’s like this,” he said. “Yesterday, at seventeen hundred hours…”

“Or five o’clock,” Mrs. McDaniel interjected, translating military time.

“Correct,” McDaniel said. “At five o’clock, I closed the recruiting office, turned off the lights, and exited through the back door to my vehicle. I drove to the Shopper’s Corner and picked out a turkey for today’s dinner, along with other items on a list that my wife had given me.”

Samantha liked the way Sgt. McDaniel talked as if he were testifying at a military tribunal instead of explaining how he had shopped for groceries the night before.

“The list had ten items,” said Mrs. McDaniel. She started to tick them off on one hand: A loaf of bread, a box of stuffing, a pound of flour …

“Actually, it’s all right here,” said Tom, pointing to the kitchen floor.

There, Samantha saw two brown bags filled with groceries. Sheepishly, Frank lifted the two bags to the cupboard, grunting at their weight. He began to put the groceries into the cupboards.

“Frank’s not much for putting things away once he’s bought them,” Mrs. McDaniel confided.

The sergeant told Samantha that while he did forget to put away the groceries, he distinctly remembered opening the refrigerator door and clearing a spot for the turkey.

“After I took the groceries from the trunk and carried them inside, I took the family out for dinner and a movie,” he said.

“Dad’s so absent-minded he even forgot to close the trunk, snickered Tom. “I did it for him when we left.”

“What time did you get home from the movies?” Samantha asked, eyeing Ginger suspiciously. If Sgt. McDaniel had absentmindedly left the bird out of the refrigerator, Ginger may have feasted on turkey while the family went to the movies.

“The movie ended at approximately twenty-two hundred…I mean, about 10 p.m.,” the sergeant said. “We got home soon after, maybe around 10:45.”

“It was 10:39,” said Mary McDaniel. “I saw it on the clock in the car when I should have been sleeping. Dumb muffler.”

“And was the turkey in the refrigerator when you got home?” Samantha asked.

“I don’t honestly know,” said Sgt. McDaniel. “We went straight to bed.”

“And where was Ginger?” Samantha asked.

“She was sleeping upstairs on my bed like she always does when we’re not home,” said Tom.

“Well, that clinches it,” said Samantha, petting Ginger’s head. “I know exactly what happened to your turkey.”

WHAT HAPPENED TO THE TURKEY, AND WHAT CLUES DID SAMANTHA USE TO SOLVE THE CASE? SEE BELOW FOR THE SOLUTION. 




The turkey was still in the trunk.

After Samantha heard Sgt. McDaniel grunt when he picked up the two bags of groceries, she knew he couldn’t have carried them and the turkey into the house at the same time.

Instead, she realized that Sgt. McDaniel had put the two grocery bags on the floor, opened the refrigerator and cleared a space for the turkey. He intended to go back to the car and bring the bird on a second trip. Samantha realized this when Tom said he had closed the trunk of the car, an indicator that his father had something else to carry inside.

But the clinching clue was the rumbling of the car’s exhaust, even though Sgt. McDaniel said that the muffler had been replaced last month. The “rumbling” was actually the turkey, rolling back and forth in the trunk.

Luckily for the McDaniels, the weather was cold enough to preserve the turkey in the trunk overnight. They popped it in the oven and enjoyed a delicious Thanksgiving meal that afternoon, courtesy of Samantha Spade’s sleuthing skills.

Sixty-Second Solutions 10

Samantha Spade was dressed as a banana.

Her face, arms and legs were the only body parts poking out of the furry, yellow costume. Samantha’s friend, Flo Mason, giggled as Samantha waddled up the sidewalk to Flo’s front porch.

“That’s an ap-peel-ing get-up,” Flo said.

“Very funny,” replied Samantha, “especially coming from a giant cell phone. Happy Halloween!”

“Same to you,” said Flo, touching the pound-sign button on her wireless telephone costume. A computerized version of “Monster Mash” played for ten seconds. “Pretty cool, huh? Having a mother who works for Sprint sure pays off for trick or treat.”

Flo opened the door and yelled inside to her parents, telling them that she and Samantha were going trick or treating. Her mother shouted back the usual precautions – stay together and only visit homes of people you know – and then the two girls, plastic bags in hand, were on their way.

As they went door to door, Samantha thought how lucky she was to spend Halloween in the city of Sallami. She had been afraid that her dad’s temporary computer installation job would end months ago, but so far he was still happily buried in line after line of binary code at the city school.

This was the longest she’d ever remained at one school; consequently, her reputation for solving mysteries – usually in one minute or less – had grown to an all-time high. She was now regularly known as the Sixty-Second Solution throughout Sallami.

But tonight she wasn’t thinking about mysteries. She was thinking, instead, about candy: M&M’s, Clark bars, Smarties and many others that filled her bag as she and Flo trekked along Watson Lane. But mysteries had a way of finding Samantha, even when she wasn’t looking for them!

At the intersection of Watson and Holmes Avenue, Samantha and Flo heard a child scream, “My pummin! My pummin!”

Flo said, “Hey, that’s Miranda!. Come on!”

She ran toward a small ranch house located on a wooded, corner lot. Samantha followed, doing her best to navigate in her Chiquita banana costume. The entire yard was filled with a six-inch carpet of fallen leaves, and they crunched loudly beneath her feet as she ran.

When Samantha caught up to her friend, Flo was already hugging a little girl dressed in bunny ears and a cotton tail. The child was sobbing uncontrollably, pointing at a shattered jack-o-lantern on the sidewalk.

“My pummin! My pummin!” she cried. “Somemody smashed my pummin!”

Flo wiped away the little girl’s tears. “Sam, this is Miranda, the little girl I babysit after school. She’s three years old. Somebody’s smashed her pumpkin.”

“They certainly did,” Sam said. Pumpkin pieces were everywhere.

“Just then, the front door opened, and Miranda’s parents, whom Flo introduced as Jack and Debbie Wright, came outside. Debbie lifted Miranda and hugged her tightly.

“This was her favorite jack-o-lantern,” Mr. Wright said, as he swept up the pulpy mess with a broom and dustpan. “We’d just carved it this afternoon.”

“Did you see who did it?” asked Samantha.

“Not really,” Mrs. Wright answered. “Since we’re on a corner lot, we give out candy at the front and back doors. The doorbell rang out back, and Jack and I gave treats to a ghost and a witch. That’s when I heard Miranda start to cry.”

“Ghost an’ witch,” repeated Miranda. “Ghost an’ witch broked my pummin.”

“No, honey,” said Mr. Wright. “The ghost and the witch were out back with us. There’s no way they could have broken your pumpkin in the front yard.”

“Don’t be so sure,” said Sam, pointing toward the sidewalk on Holmes Avenue. Four kids, two dressed as ghosts and two dressed as witches, were walking there.

“Hey, you kids,” called Mr. Wright. “Come over here!”

They did. Jack asked them who was responsible for breaking the pumpkin.

“Not me,” said one witch, pulling off her mask. Underneath, she was Lora Dublin, a high school girl who lived in the neighborhood.

The other three Trick-or-Treaters also unmasked. Flo knew them all and introduced Samantha to them: Susan Taylor, Mark McMasters and Brett Sloane. Samantha noted that the two boys were the same height, as were the two girls. Their costumes were also similar: Standard issue sheets and pointy hats. The girls’ masks were identical.

“Look, if you’re trying to pin this thing on us, you’re …well, bananas,” said Mark. When his friends started to snicker, he looked at Samantha’s costume and smirked. “Uh, no offense.”

Miranda, hidden behind her parents, popped her head from around her mother’s legs and screamed, “Bad witch an’ ghost! Broked my pummin!”

Samantha asked Mrs. Wright what kind of candy she was distributing that evening. She answered Tootsie Rolls, a very popular Halloween giveaway.

“Mind if I take a look into your bags?” she asked.

The teens looked at one another, shrugged their shoulders and opened their treat sacks, grinning. Samantha saw Tootsie Rolls among the candy that all four had collected. Samantha sighed.


“Mr. and Mrs. Wright,” she said, “are you sure that only one ghost and one witch came to your door a few minutes ago?”

“Absolutely,” said Mr. Wright.

“Look, I’ll make this easier,” said Brett. “Mark and Lora were the two who came to your door. I had enough candy for one night, so I decided to wait around the corner of the house for Mark and Lora, while Susie went to the front door for candy, but …”

“So you broke the jack-o-lantern?” interrupted Mrs. Wright, turning toward Susie.

“Hey, let me finish,” Brett said. “She didn’t make it to the front of the house, because she doubled back through the yard to sneak up behind me and me half to death.”

“That’s right,” said Susie. “He was just standing there with his back to me, looking bored. It was too good to pass up.”

“She was just as quiet as could be,” sniggered Brett. “Got right up behind me, then – Boo! I jumped right out of my skin, believe me!”

“I wish I could,” said Samantha, shaking her head. “I wish I could…”


HOW DOES SAMANTHA KNOW THAT BRETT IS LYING? SEE BELOW FOR THE SOLUTION.


Brett said that Susan had been able to surprise him from behind while he waited in the Wright’s yard, but that would be impossible in a yard filled with a six-inch layer of leaves. Remember, when Samantha ran through the yard earlier, she made plenty of noise.

When Brett started to tell his lie, Susie went along with it, right up to the point where their alibi was spoiled by a seventh-grade-sized banana named Samantha Spade!

Once they realized they were exposed, Brett and Susie admitted they had smashed Miranda’s pumpkin, and Mark and Lora admitted their role was to ring the back doorbell and distract the Wrights.

To make up for their misdeed, the four teens raked all the leaves from the Wrights’ property the next day.

Sixty-Second Solutions 9

Larry Porter was known as the Boy of 1,000 Voices.

Not only could he perfectly imitate the speech of cartoon characters such as Bugs Bunny, Scooby-Doo and SpongeBob SquarePants, but he could also mimic any teacher or student in Sallami Middle School, a talent that made him popular each morning in the hallway.

On this particular September day, Samantha Spade – the town’s greatest amateur detective – and her friend, Billy Archer, were part of a small crowd of seventh-graders gathered around Porter’s locker.

“Hey, Porter, do Mr. Cunkel,” said Aaron Posthaste.

Mr. Cunkel was the shop teacher, a tall, lumbering man with a very high voice. Behind his back, kids called him Canary Cunkel.

“No problem – for two bucks,” Larry replied, holding out his open palm. Aaron dug into his pocket and produced a one-dollar bill.

“This is all it’s worth to me,” Aaron said, waving the dollar in front of Larry’s face.

Frowning, Larry grabbed the dollar and stuffed it into his wallet. The Boy of 1,000 Voices had long ago learned to capitalize on his talent.

With payment made, Larry puckered his lips as if to kiss a lemon and squeezed shut his eyes. He was getting into character. When he spoke next, his voice was a dead-ringer imitation of the shop teacher.

“Aaron, put down that hammer and get out your shop project!” he squeaked. Everybody except Samantha and Billy roared with laughter. They both thought that Mr. Cunkel was a nice man and a good teacher.

“Porter, you’re a card!” said Aaron, clapping Larry on the back. “Better save that one for posterity.”

“Good idea,” said Larry, still imitating Mr. Cunkel. He reached into his pocket and fished out a small cassette recorder. Larry lived in constant dread of the day his voice would change and leave him unable to do funny imitations, so he carried a cassette recorder with him at all times.

With the “Record” button pressed, he imitated what Mr. Cunkel might sound like if he smashed his finger in a vice.

“OK, OK, break it up, kids,” said Mrs. Young as she came out of her. Larry stuffed the cassette player into his pocket before she realized what he was doing. “Everybody to their homerooms, pronto!”

As Samantha walked to her desk, she heard Aaron ask Mrs. Young if they could get a drink before the morning bell rang. The teacher said yes. A minute or so later, Larry asked the same question and was also given permission.

During the Pledge of Allegiance, Samantha saw Aaron stroll into the room and throw something into the trashcan before going to his desk.

As Mrs. Young was taking attendance, Larry burst into the room, his shirt ripped, his hair in disarray. He tripped over a chair and landed flat on his face.

“My goodness, Larry, what happened?” cried Mrs. Young as she picked him up from the floor.

“He – he stole my dollar!” shouted Larry, pointing toward Aaron.

“That’s a lie!” said Aaron, outraged.

Amid much blubbering, Larry told his story. He said that after the two boys had gotten a drink, Aaron started pushing Larry, demanding back his dollar. When Larry told him no, Aaron pulled him into the boys' bathroom and threatened to beat him up.

“When I saw what he was going to do, I hit the ‘record’ button on my cassette player when he wasn’t looking,” Larry sniveled. “I got the whole thing on tape.”

“He’s lying, Mrs. Young!” Aaron repeated.

Mrs. Young asked for the cassette.

“See, that’s the problem,” Larry continued. “When I told Aaron that the whole conversation was taped, he grabbed the recorder, took out the cassette and ran out of the bathroom. I only have the recorder now because he dropped it on the way out.”

Samantha raised her hand. “Mrs. Young, I saw Aaron throw something away when he came into the room.”

The teacher went to the wastebasket and peered into it. Sure enough, she found a micro-cassette.

Larry placed the cassette into his player and immediately hit “Play.” The first thing everybody heard was his voice imitating the shop teacher. Mrs. Young folded her arms across her chest and frowned.

Soon, they heard Larry’s own voice, begging Aaron not to push him again. A voice that sounded like Aaron’s demanded the dollar. Then, several thumps and bumps, followed by Larry explaining that the whole incident was on tape.

“Give me that,” they heard Aaron say. There was a click, then nothing but the hiss of the cassette tape.

Aaron stood up and repeated, “He’s lying, Mrs. Young. It didn’t happen that way at all!”

According to Aaron, he met Larry coming back from the drinking fountain. Larry had given him the dollar and the cassette tape, said that he was ashamed of himself for mocking a teacher, and asked Aaron to throw away the tape. He even waved the dollar bill for the class to see, not realizing that it made him appear even guiltier.

“But, Aaron, that’s your voice on the tape, demanding the money,” said Mrs. Young.

That doesn’t prove anything,” said Aaron. “He’s the Kid of 1,000 Voices! He was imitating me!”

Mrs. Young conceded that Aaron had a point. She said she wasn’t sure which story to believe.

“I am, Mrs. Young,” said Samantha, standing up. “That cassette tape is all the evidence you need.”

WHICH VERSION OF THE STORY IS TRUE, AND HOW CAN SAMANTHA BE SO SURE? SEE BELOW FOR THE SOLUTION.


Larry said that Aaron had snatched the cassette tape out of his recorder as soon as he knew about it. But when he played the tape to the class, it had already been rewound.

Aaron would have no way to rewind the tape without the player; only Larry could do that.

Larry, angry that his imitation had earned him one dollar less than expected, saw a chance to get even when he heard Aaron ask to get a drink. After receiving permission to do the same, Larry recorded the fake bathroom confrontation on the way to the drinking fountain, then gave Aaron the dollar and asked him to throw away the tape.

If no one had witnessed Aaron throwing the tape away, Larry would have volunteered to check all the area wastebaskets himself, to “prove” his story.

Larry received an after-school detention for imitating Mr. Cunkel’s voice, and spent it cleaning and sweeping the shop classroom.

Sixty-Second Solutions 8

The fair had come to town, and brought with it the smell of cotton candy and popcorn, the bright lights of the Ferris wheel and the screams of delight from riders on the rickety roller coaster.

Kent Spade had just returned from the restroom to join his daughter, Samantha, at a picnic table just inside the front entrance. He wiped his dripping-wet hands along the sides of his blue jeans before sitting down.

“Nice manners, Dad,” Samantha said, drolly.

“What? They were all out of paper towels.”

He immediately dug into a slice of greasy pizza that he and his daughter were sharing.

“Hard to believe it’s already August,” Samantha said. “Heck, a new school year is just around the corner.”

“You know, Sam,” said Kent, “I’m wrapping up all the programming here, and…”

His voice trailed off.

“Yeah,” Sam said softly. “I know.”

Kent Spade set up and programmed new computer systems; the work took him and his daughter around the country, and now the job that had brought them to the town of Sallami was almost complete, which meant that it would soon be time to move on. Sam might start her seventh-grade year here in Sallami, but she’d likely finish it in some other part of the country. Constant moving was a part of her life, but that didn’t mean she had to like it.

What made it hard was that she’d made some real friends here in Sallami. Billy Archer, Flo Mason, Andy D’Brillo, the Markel twins … It would be hard to say goodbye to all of them. Plus, Sallami was a town that seemed rife with mysteries, and Sam liked nothing more than the chance to solve a good case as often as possible.

Fortunately, another such mystery was just around the corner, to take her mind off the prospect of moving.

“Get out, get out, get out!” a man’s voice shouted. Sam and Kent looked toward the rear of the French fry stand just in time to see the aluminum door fly open and Vinnie Furnier, the bad-seed neighbor of her friend Billy Archer, come stumbling through it. A short little man came behind Vinnie, shooing him out with a broom.

“Out, out,” he repeated. “And don’t ever come back.”

“OK, already, I get the picture,” Vinnie said, flinching as the broom smacked him on the head. “I’m gone, man.”

It looked to Sam like Vinnie had gotten himself into trouble yet again. Since she’d come to Sallami, she had caught the older boy in two big lies: The first, when he tried to steal Billy’s paper route, and the second when he’d tried to scare Billy by climbing on his roof and peeking in his bedroom window. The boy was incorrigible.

Vinnie saw the two of them staring at him and came sauntering over, brushing off his shirt where he’d fallen in the grass and trying to reclaim his dignity.

“Figures you’d be here to see all this,” he said. “You’re like the bad penny of my life or something.”

Meanwhile, the little man who’d beaten him with a broom had followed him to the picnic table. “But don’t think you can get away scot-free, young man,” he yelled. “I want that money you stole from the cash register.

The man raised the broom to take another swing at Vinnie, who flinched involuntarily. Kent Spade stepped in between the two.

“Enough with the broom,” he said. “Care to tell me what’s going on here?”

“That little no-good beatnik stole fifty dollars from the cash register while I stepped away from the French fry stand,” he said. “And only for a few minutes, too, the dirty little…”

He raised the broom again, but Kent snatched it away.

“And you are?” he asked.

“I’m Brant Brockman, manager of this fine potato vending establishment, which is owned by my brother.” Brockman shook first Samantha’s hand, then her father’s. He wore a bow tie and appeared fastidiously neat, right down to his polished shoes. His skin was as wrinkly and dry as a mummy’s, right down to his sandpaper handshake. When he touched Kent’s still-damp hands, he turned up his lip as if he’d touched a dead animal on the side of the road.

“Maybe we can help you figure out where the money is, Mr. Brockman,” said Sam. She briefly explained that she was an amateur detective.

“Great,” muttered Vinnie. “The great Buttinsky butts in again.”

Ignoring his comments, she asked him, “Vinnie, did you steal the fifty dollars?”

“No, I didn’t,” he said. “I took this crummy fair job to try to save extra dough for a car, but I never took any money. I swear.”

Samantha asked Vinnie if he had access to the cash register. He said he did, and that while he wasn’t too good at making change, he knew he hadn’t shorted the register by such a large amount. He told her that the minute Mr. Brockman had returned, he opened the register and started screaming, then immediately chased him out the back door.

“Then answer me this, smart guy,” said Mr. Brockman. “Why when I counted the register was there fifty dollars more than when I came back?”

“How do you know that the missing amount is exactly fifty dollars?” asked Kent. “Didn’t anybody buy French fries while you were gone?”

Vinnie answered. “No, business was pretty slow. ‘Cuz it’s so hot, everybody wants ice cream instead of crummy French fries, I guess.”

Brockman scowled. “Thief worked fast, too. I was only gone to the restroom for a minute or two, and when I came straight back to the stand…. How am I going to tell Casey when he returns, huh?”

“Tell me what, Brant?” said a man behind him. He was also short, with polished shoes and a neat bow tie. Samantha could tell immediately that he was Brockman’s brother.

She said, “Your brother doesn’t know how to tell you that he stole fifty dollars from your cash register!”


HOW DID SAMANTHA KNOW THAT BRANT BROCKMAN WAS THE THIEF? SEE BELOW FOR THE SOLUTION.


Mr. Brockman told Samantha that he’d only been gone from the French fry stand for a few moments to use the restroom. But when he shook Samantha’s hand, she noted that his hands were completely dry. Her father’s hands were still wet from washing his hands in the restroom.

A person as neat and clean as Brant Brockman would never leave the restroom without washing his hands, Samantha reasoned, and so she realized that he had lied about his whereabouts.

When Samantha shared her deduction with the two Brockmans, Brant realized he was caught. He admitted to taking the money from the register and hiding it in his car near the front entrance during his supposed bathroom break. Since business had been slow, he thought he could use the opportunity to get rid of Vinnie, which would give him even more opportunity to raid the register during the fair.

Casey Brockman fired his brother and gave Vinnie his job back, with a raise. Although the fair only lasted three more days, Vinnie was appreciative of what Sam had done for him and started being nicer to her friend, Billy Archer.

Sixty-Second Solutions 7

The Big Blast.

It was the largest weapon in Theo Casey’s professional fireworks artillery, a red, white and blue phenomenon just waiting to erupt with color and sound, the centerpiece of the town of Sallami’s Fourth of July celebration.

And it was gone!

“Where could it be?” moaned Theo, peering inside his van, pushing sparklers and bottle rockets to the side. His beard and mouth were smeared with the remains of an ice cream cone. “Who could have taken it?”

Samantha Spade and Billy Archer had been helping Theo unload his truck inside the Sallami City Park on the morning of July 4 when the pyrotechnic expert realized that his biggest firework was missing.

“Did you have ‘The Big Blast’ when you left home today?” Billy asked.

“Yes, yes,” cried Theo. “It was in the back of the van, which was locked in my garage. With this much firepower, you’ve got to be careful.”

“What about when you got to the park?” asked Samantha.

“It was here when I unlocked the van,” Theo replied, twirling a set of keys on his index finger.

“And you didn’t leave the fireworks unattended?” Samantha continued.

“Not since you two rode by on your bikes and offered to help me unload,” said Theo.

“And before that?”

“Well, I did go and buy myself an ice cream cone,” Theo said, sheepishly. “I left the van unlocked, but it was only for a minute, and who could resist a vanilla-fudge-chocolate chip cone, hmm?”

“Hmm,” echoed Samantha, staring absently across the park’s access road at the ice cream vendor, who was selling two vanilla cones to Suzette and Melissa Markel, twin students in Samantha’s class.

The grass around the van was still soggy from yesterday’s rain, but Samantha could make out no clues there. She and Billy had trampled the grass flat in their many trips back and forth to the van.

Just then, the park supervisor, Jim Jezquin, pulled up in a refurbished golf cart. Theo, Samantha and Billy quickly filled him in regarding the missing firework and asked if he’d seen any suspicious-looking characters.

“Can’t say that I have,” Jim said. “But I’ve been pretty busy for the last hour posting signs in the park to let people know they have to sit on the west side tonight to watch fireworks. The east side of the park is still too muddy from yesterday’s rain. I guess I haven’t had time to watch for crooks.”

“Don’t bother putting up any more signs,” moaned Theo. “Without the Big Blast, there can be no fireworks!”

Samantha and Billy excused themselves, hopped on their bikes and rode out of the park.

“It’s not like you to give up on a mystery like that,” said Billy.

“Who’s giving up?” Samantha shot back. “We’re going to ride to Mr. Casey’s house to look for more clues.”

Theo Casey lived two blocks away. Everything was quiet around his home, except for three high school boys playing basketball next door. Samantha decided to ask if they’d seen anything suspicious, just in case Mr. Casey was mistaken and somebody really had stolen the firework from his home.

Without mentioning The Big Blast by name, Samantha let the three know that a firework was missing and asked them if they’d seen anyone or anything suspicious around Mr. Casey’s home.

“Nope, nothing suspicious around here, Sam,” said Rob Denver. Rob rode Sam’s bus and knew her by reputation as Sallami’s best amateur detective. “And we’ve been playing basketball all morning.”

The other two boys – Harry Saltpepper and John Crane – agreed. They’d seen Mr. Casey back his van out of the garage, close the garage door and drive off toward the park. They knew he was a pyrotechnics expert and that he was probably setting up for the Independence Day fireworks, as he did each year.

“Did you guys go into the park today?” Samantha asked.

“What’s up, Sam?” said Rob. “We’re not suspects or anything, are we?”

“Not especially,” Sam answered, “although I suppose it wouldn’t be too hard for you guys to get to the park and back, since it’s only a few blocks away.”

“Rest easy, little detective,” Harry said. “We haven’t been anywhere near the park, and don’t plan to go even tonight. It’ll be way too crowded, what with no sitting on the east side.”

“Yeah, I think we’ll stay right here shooting hoops,” said Rob.

“That sounds like a fine idea,” Samantha replied. “But first, you need to return The Big Blast to Mr. Casey.”


HOW DID SAMANTHA KNOW THAT THE THREE BOYS HAD STOLEN THE BIG BLAST?

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Jim Jezquin said he had just started that morning posting signs telling people that the east side of the park was off-limits to fireworks watchers. The only way the three boys could have known is if they had been in the park that morning, although they said they had been playing basketball the entire time.

Caught in a lie, the three culprits admitted to Samantha and Billy that they had followed Mr. Casey’s van to the park and waited until he went to buy ice cream to steal the biggest firework they could find.

Luckily, they hadn’t yet detonated The Big Blast and returned it to Mr. Casey unharmed. Mr. Casey in turn called each of their parents and reported what their children had done.

That night, the city of Sallami thrilled to the sight of The Big Blast, courtesy of Samantha Spade’s investigative skills.

Sixty-Second Solutions 6

It was the last week of the school year at Sallami Middle School, and everybody was anticipating summer vacation. You could feel it in the classrooms. You could feel it in the lunchroom. You could feel it in the gym.

You could especially feel it in the hallway, for several reasons. First of all, the entire sixth-grade class was cleaning out lockers, throwing out unwanted papers and folders and discovering hats, pencils and pens that, in many cases, were last seen in early October.

Secondly, the air conditioning had broken. It was a balmy eighty-seven degrees outside, and twice as hot inside.

Samantha Spade wiped the sweat from her forehead with the back of her hand, then turned to her locker. She had quite a way to go before it would ever pass inspection by Mr. Entleman, her homeroom teacher. She had a huge pile of library books in the bottom of the locker: books on fingerprinting, the legal system and police investigation. She wondered how much her fine would be.

Mr. Entleman, patrolling the hallway like a guard dog, pointed to the books. “Better get those back,” he cautioned.

“Yes, sir.” She gathered up the volumes – thirty in all – along with the block of wood that doubled for Mr. Entleman’s hall pass and headed for the library. All those books in her hands made it hard for her to see, and she had to stop several times and use the walls to keep the stack from tumbling.

Finally, she reached the library door, which was slightly ajar, and pushed it open with her back. She nodded toward Mrs. Dewey, the teacher who had taken over for Mr. Oplin , the regular librarian, after he had tripped over a stray encyclopedia volume and broken both his arms three weeks before. Mrs. Dewey had books piled on all the tables and bookshelves. The piles made the load in Samantha’s hands look small by comparison.

“Oh, Samantha, my favorite AWOL book borrower!” Mrs. Dewey exclaimed. Usually, the librarian had a bright, sunny disposition; today, she looked frazzled. She had a typewritten inventory sheet in front of her, and a pencil tucked behind her right ear. “Just put them over on the table, dear.”

Samantha looked around the room, trying to spot an empty spot.

“Uh, which table?” she asked.

Dewey glanced around as if noticing the mess for the first time. She chuckled. “Oh, just pile them nicely on the floor, then.”

Samantha put down the books and came over to Mrs. Dewey. “What are you working on, ma’am?” she asked. “End of the year inventory?”

“Exactly,” the librarian responded. “I’m trying to match up missing books to kids, and smooth over inconsistencies. If students haven’t returned all books and paid their fines, the school can’t give them their report cards.”

“I’m sure most kids wouldn’t mind that,” Samantha giggled.“Can I help?” Anything was better than going back to her dirty locker.

“Well, I suppose,” said Mrs. Dewey. “Maybe it will help to work off your fine, which, judging by the pile of books you’ve returned, is significant.”

The librarian handed her approximately twenty sheets of paper. Each sheet listed a different student with overdue books, the amount of fines owed by each, and the cost of the books if they had to be replaced. Samantha’s job was to put them in financial order so that the information about students who had failed to return the most expensive books were on top.

Jasper Jankins, a seventh-grade student, was by far Public Enemy Number One in terms of book borrowing. Not only had he failed to return forty-seven books, but he had two books – “The History of Great Britain” and “True Stories of Gangsters” – valued at over $65 each. His total unpaid fines came to almost 40 dollars, and the total value to replace all the books he had borrowed was almost $250!

When Mrs. Dewey saw Jasper’s bill, she was horrified. She instantly got on the public address system and called Jasper down to the library.

“Look at this list,” she said, while the two were waiting for Jasper. “Why, he’s checked out twenty-five books in the Shivery Spine mystery series alone! I’m amazed we have any books left in this library!”

A few moments later, Jasper strolled in. He had a shaved head, deep blue eyes and what appeared to be a permanent smirk on his face.

“Hey, Mrs. D!” Jasper said. “What’s up?”

“Your library fine,” replied Mrs. Dewey. “And my blood pressure. Jasper, you owe this library forty-seven books.”

Jasper looked shocked. “No way!” he said. “I brought three books back last week. We’re all squared, Mrs. D.”

“Not quite, Jasper,” said Mrs. Dewey, looking over the list. “You owe us eleven books in the Sports Profiles series and nine of the Adventures of Strato-Man books, and …”

“No way,” Jasper interrupted. “I never checked out any of that stuff.”

Mrs. Dewey asked to see his card. Jasper reached into his back pocket and pulled out his wallet, opened it, and frowned. He held the wallet upside down and shook it; only lint fell out.

“Hmm,” he said. “I forgot – I lost the card a couple of weeks ago. Somebody must have found it or stolen it and then checked out a bunch of books in my name! The bums!”

Samantha stepped up. “Mrs. Dewey, is it possible that somebody could use another student’s card to check out books?”

“Technically, yes,” Mrs. Dewey said. “The cards don’t have photos, and I don’t know all the students well enough to match names to faces. I’ve only been here a few weeks.”

“Right. And in that time, somebody must’ve robbed you blind in the Shivery Spine section,” Jasper said.

“Jasper, you’re still responsible for the titles checked out in your name,” said Mrs. Dewey. “You should have reported the card stolen.”

Jasper raised his voice. “I didn't know it was stolen! I thought I lost it! You know, in my bedroom or in the garage or something!”

“Be that as it may, you’re still responsible for the missing books. If I were you, I’d check around your bedroom and in your desk, just in case some of those forty-seven books are yours.” Mrs. Dewey pressed several keys on the library’s computer. “In the meantime, I’ll lock your account so that no other books can be checked out in your name.”

“Whatever,” said Jasper. “But I promise you that I don’t have any of those forty-seven books,” said Jasper.

Samantha spoke up. “Maybe not anymore. But you were the one who checked them out, and I can prove it.”

HOW DOES SAMANTHA KNOW? SEE BELOW FOR THE SOLUTION.

* * * * *

Jasper mentioned that somebody had robbed the library blind in the Shivery Spine mystery section, but how would he have known that unless he was the one who checked out the books? Remember, he interrupted Mrs. Dewey before she had a chance to tell him the names of all the books taken.

When he realized he was caught, Jasper promised to bring all the books back to school the next day and pay his past-due fines.

Alice Cooper, Road Warrior

I have some thoughts about Alice Cooper's latest, Road, but wanted to wait to share them until after I'd had time to digest his disappointing comments about trans people.

It's a testimony to how much Cooper is loved and respected that even fans who disagree with him are bending over backward to interpret his words in a way that paints the 75-year-old shock rocker in a positive light. 

Yeah, he's entitled to his opinion. But since he's built a career based in part on gender-bending wardrobe changes and inclusiveness for people who don't follow the dictates of society, some of his comments are a little ... well, shocking. 

Cooper didn't completely dismiss trans people, no matter what the headlines say. He said there were legitimate "cases of transgender" but also worried that it was a "fad." He repeated tired old talking points about men pretending to be trans so they could use women's restrooms and "have the time of [their] life in there." He also criticized "the whole woke thing."  

Sentiments like these aren't unusual from somebody Cooper's age, especially given the calcified grip with which that demographic clings to Fox News, but it's unusual to hear it from him. 

Unfortunately, the singer violated a policy he's articulated in many interviews and at least one song: "Shut Up and Rock" (from 2021's Detroit Stories). 

I had to parse how his words will affect not only his transgender fans but also their parents and grandparents. Granted, people should not place too much stock in the opinions of celebrities, yet they do. I've lost count of the social-media posts I've seen that say, "I stand with Alice," "Right on, Alice," "100%," and so on, indicating he's given some fans another reason to shun inclusivity. His words are going to make life a little tougher for kids and parents dealing with these challenging issues, and that's a shame. 

For this lifelong fan, his words also mean that Alice Cooper the Man isn't nearly as cool as Alice Cooper the Performer. Consider that bubble duly popped.

Now, on to Road.

It's solid. Cooper and his longtime touring band have crafted a loose concept album, with songs about world travel and hard rockin'.  This is a shallow theme around which to build an entire record, and that lack of depth is reflected in the lyrics, too many of which are basically about how cool it is to be a rock star in general and Alice Cooper in particular. 

Road could be more relatable to us working stiffs if it had included numbers about the different types of folks one encounters while traveling — salespeople, soldiers shipping out or on their way home, refugees, and the like. Instead, the record focuses on just the vagabond rock-star lifestyle—fine, but limiting. Imagine From the Inside without Nurse Rosetta, Millie and Billie, and Veronica for a sense of the missed opportunities here. 

Given the album's singular focus, though, it's not surprising how it pays homage to various Cooper classics that are staples of his live show. Listeners will hear callbacks to "Elected" at the tail end of "I'm Alice," and a lyrical echo of "Eighteen"— like it, love it, like it, love it — in "All Over the World." Self-reference has been a signature Cooper characteristic for decades; this album is no exception.

Road's great strength is how comfortable everybody is with everybody else. Cooper's touring band — Ryan Roxie, Tommy Henriksen, Nita Strauss, Chuck Garric, and Glen Sobel — are here in full force, ripping through songs with the confidence that comes from playing with one another night after night. 

Cooper, too, is in fine voice. He has always had a raspiness to his delivery, which is used to especially good effect here. The song "100 Miles" addresses the end of the tour—and maybe the end of the line—for a nearly hoarse Cooper, who ruminates about having "no place at all to be" and "nobody yelling, 'Hey, man, it's time to go.'" The song suggests a more serious vein for Cooper to mine in future releases, one that would be entirely appropriate given his ouevre's morbid focus: impending mortality.

A highlight is "White Line Frankenstein," about a coked-up trucker. Rage Against the Machine's Tom Morello provides six-string lightning throughout. 

"Baby Please Don't Go," an appealing ballad, reminds listeners of Cooper's softer side and wouldn't be out of place on FM rock radio today. A remake of "Road Rats" fits well with the road theme, as does a cover of "Magic Bus," which closes the album.  

It all goes down easy and actually grew on me with each listen. Road does not travel along any interesting byways or take any intriguing detours, yet it barrels down the highway at a fast clip. Sometimes, that's enough. 

I haven't had a chance to watch the blu-ray of 2022's Hellfest performance, included with the CD, but I suspect it will be a typically high-energy set. Alice seldom disappoints live. 

Safe to say that if you've always liked Cooper— and particularly if you like the musicians who have been playing with him now for many years—you'll like Road. I give it a solid B.