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?

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

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. 

Sixty-Second Solutions 5

“I hate to be the one to tell you this, Janson,” said Detective Dirkin, his hat pulled low over his eyes, “but you’re under arrest for stealing the Jewels of Jupiter.”

Flo Mason and Billy Archer sat up straight in their seats on either side of Samantha Spade. Popcorn fell from Billy’s mouth as he stared up at the movie screen. Detective Durkin was busy administering justice to Doctor Janson with the help of a strong right hook.

“Did you hear that, Sam?” Billy whispered to Samantha. “How the heck did he figure out it was the doctor?”

Samantha reached inside her pocket and pulled out a piece of folded paper. About thirty minutes into the film, “Mystery Ink,” she had scribbled the name “Dr. Janson.” She unfolded the paper and showed it to her friends.

“All the clues were in the doctor’s office,” Samantha said. “The doctor said he was giving injections at the time of the heist, but there were no needles in his medicine bag. That’s what tipped me off.”

As the film ended and the lights came up, the trio made their way toward the exit. It was the Saturday before Memorial Day, and the friends had kicked off the long weekend the night before by seeing another film at the theater, the two-and-a-half-hour “Arachnid Man.”

Samantha explained other clues to the mystery as they squinted in the late afternoon light.

Flo took her matinee ticket, which read “The Great History Mystery, 3 p.m. matinee, $2.50,” and threw it into a waste can. She shook her head. “I don’t know how you do it, Sam,” she said.

Samantha shrugged. “I just pay attention to stuff like that, I guess.”

That was an understatement. In the four months since Samantha and her father had moved to the town of Sallami, she’d built quite a reputation as a detective.

Samantha loved to read mysteries and watch mystery movies, like the 90-minute puzzler she’d just finished. But most of all, she liked to solve real-life mysteries. Her speed at figuring out even the most difficult of problems had led to her nickname: the Sixty-Seconds Solution. As her reputation grew, so did the number of mysteries that came her way.

And another puzzler was about to surface now, outside the Super Cineplex at the Sallami Mall.

Two boys in front of Samantha were laughing and ribbing each other on the way out of the theater. Just then, a security guard grabbed each boy by the arms.

“Are these the ones?” the guard asked, speaking to a blonde girl a few years older than Samantha.

The blonde nodded her head vigorously. “Yes, sir, those are the boys who slashed my bicycle tires.”

“What are you talking about?” said one boy, shaking free of the security guard. He was wearing a black stocking cap and a leather jacket, despite the heat. The other was dressed in a baseball jersey and carried a tub of popcorn.

“You’re the ones,” the girl said. “When I came out of the mall, two were hunched over my bike. When you saw me coming, you ran toward the ticket booth.”

“No way, Jose,” the boy sneered. “Mrs. Carly’s boy, Teddy, has been watching movies the entire afternoon. Isn’t that right, Chet?”

“That’s right,” answered the other boy. “Me an’ Teddy’s been seeing flicks all afternoon. We saw ‘Arachnid Man’ and ‘Mystery Ink.’ See?”

He pulled out his ticket stubs. Teddy did the same.

The security turned toward the blonde.

“Look, Miss…” he began.

“Williams. Lucy Williams,” the blonde answered.

“Yeah. Miss Williams, the two do have ticket stubs, and…”

“That doesn’t prove anything,” said Lucy. “Why, they could’ve bought tickets and not even seen the film. I’m telling you, these guys slashed my tires.”

Chet laughed. “Look, we saw both movies today. Arachnid Man had that cool explosion at the end, where we learn that The Jade Jack O’ Lantern is really Arachnid Man’s cousin.”

“Yeah, that was cool,” said Teddy. “And then, at the very beginning of ‘Mystery Ink,’ that detective dude gets chased off the mountain by those assassin ninja monks. That was my favorite part.”

By this time, Samantha and her two friends had stopped walking and were watching the situation closely. The security guard noticed them.

“Move along, kids,” he said. “Nothing to see here.”

Flo stepped up to him and explained that her friend, Samantha, was an amateur detective with a rock-solid track record. “Do you think she could take a crack at this one?”

The guard said he didn’t mind. Neither did Lucy or the two boys.

“Could I see your tickets?” Samantha asked Teddy and Chet.

They handed them over. Samantha examined the two pairs of tickets: “Mystery Ink” at the same time as she and her friends had seen it, and “Arachnid Man” at 1:35 p.m. Everything looked in order.

“Careful, you might want to dust those for fingerprints,” Teddy said, laughing.

“Have you seen either of these films before?” Samantha said, looking at the boys.

“Nope,” said Chet. “Saw ‘em both today for the first time.”

“You’re lying,” said Samantha. “And you’re probably lying about the bicycle tire, too.”


HOW DID SAMANTHA KNOW? SEE BELOW FOR THE SOLUTION.

* * * * * 

Samantha knew that Arachnid Man, which began at 1:35 p.m., was two-and-a-half hours long. But the boys had described the end of that film and the beginning of “Mystery Ink,” which started at 3 p.m., before the first movie was finished.

Realizing they had been caught in one big lie, Chet and Teddy admitted that they had skipped out early from the 1:35 showing of “Arachnid Man,” a film they’d seen the week before, to cause mischief in the parking lot. When Lucy caught them slashing her tires, they’d run back into the theater and bought tickets for “Mystery Ink,” where they dreamed up what they thought was a perfect alibi.

Sixty-Second Solutions 4

“Okay, class, turn ’em in!”

Mrs. Pierce, a former Army drill sergeant turned teacher, barked the order from her desk. Every student reached into their science folders and produced reports bound in clear plastic folders.

Samantha Spade was no exception. Her typewritten report, “Black Holes and the Scientists Who Love Them,” was carefully cradled between two plastic sheaths. It had a one-and-a-quarter-inch margin on the left, and one-inch margins on the other three sides, double-spaced, with page numbers in the top right margin exactly one-half inch from the edge of the paper. The report was also handwritten, per Mrs. Pierce’s directive. A handwritten paper taught discipline with a pen , she said.

When you were a student in “Precise” Pierce’s class, you learned to follow orders – or else.

Samantha placed her paper in the waiting left hand of the student in front of her, who then placed his paper on top of hers and passed it forward. Mrs. Pierce collected each row in turn, starting at the right of the room and working left with military precision.

When she finished, she thumbed through the collected stack, alternately nodding in approval or frowning in disgust at the quality of the class’s work.

“Shane, nice job on the right margin. Razor sharp!” she beamed, followed by, “Mary, only one “T” in astronomy. Spell check!”

But then she paused for a great while as she thumbed through the remainder of the reports. She scowled. “There are 24 students in this room, but I have only 23 papers.”

“Suzette and Melissa Markel!” she barked. In the last two seats of the third row, the two twins sat up straight, their pigtails nodding.

“Yes, Mrs. Pierce,” they answered in unison. Both were wearing soccer jerseys, blue jeans and bright white tennis shoes. Their own mother had a hard time telling them apart, let alone the rest of the class.

“I have only 24 reports here, and there are 25 students in this class,” she said.

“Yes, Mrs. Pierce,” they said again. The rest of the class gasped. Failure to turn in a report by the due date resulted in the loss of a full letter grade.

“The problem is, one of the reports doesn’t have a name,” the teacher continued. “And from the way I collected the reports, it belongs to one of you two.”

“It’s mine!” said Suzette.

“It’s mine!” echoed Melissa, seated directly behind her.

“Well, quite a conundrum we have here, ladies,” said Mrs. Pierce, pacing back along the aisles.

“Melissa, what was your report about?”

“Jupiter,” they both answered, then frowned at each other.

“No fair,” said Suzette from behind her sister. “She saw the title of my paper when I passed it to her!”

Mrs. Pierce slapped the paper on top of Suzette’s desk. Melissa craned her neck around to see it. Samantha, who sat next to Suzette, could see the report clearly. It read:

Jupiter:

Gas Giant of

The Solar System

The words “gas,” “giant,” “the” and “solar” were terribly smudged.

Mrs. Pierce stared intently at the handwriting. Like everything else the twins were involved in, it was identical.

“That paper’s mine, you big cheater!” said Melissa, throwing her erasable pen with her left hand.

“Is not, it’s mine!” said Suzette, throwing down her pen with her right hand. “You left yours at home, and now you’re just trying to muscle in on my grade!

Samantha’s mind was racing. Here was a bona fide mystery, right in the middle of her sixth grade science class! Since they lived in the same house, each twin would know the topic of the other’s report, and probably know the contents well enough to fake their way through one of “Precise” Pierce’s oral interrogation.

Of course, a quick call home to the Markel house would reveal whose name was on any forgotten report, and so reveal the liar. But that was like cheating, Samantha thought.

Fingerprinting might answer the question, too, since even identical twins have distinct prints. But more than likely, the fingerprints of both girls would appear on the paper. Handwriting analysis would also reveal differences between the two girls’ cursive, but Samantha doubted that even Mrs. Pierce would want to go to that much trouble over a science report.

Samantha stared at her wristwatch. She’d been thinking about this for 45-seconds now. There was barely time to solve the case and still save her reputation for 60-second solutions!

The answer had to be close at hand …

“That’s it!” she said, barely suppressing a shout of “Eureka!”

Mrs. Pierce looked at her. “That’s what, Samantha?

“Can I see the report for a moment?” she asked.

The teacher shrugged and handed it to her. Samantha instantly pulled a pencil from her backpack and began erasing the word “Jupiter.”

“What do you think you’re doing, young lady?” Mrs. Pierce shouted, pulling the paper away from Samantha.

“Solving a mystery,” Samantha said smugly, sitting back with her arms folded across her chest. “I know which twin wrote that paper.”

WHICH TWIN IS TELLING THE TRUTH? SEE BELOW FOR THE ANSWER.

* * * * *

A left-handed person has great difficulty writing with an erasable pen without smudging the lines, as the side of the hand blots the ink while as he or she writes. Since the first few words on each line of the title page were smudged, Samantha correctly guessed that the person writing it was left-handed.

When Samantha saw Melissa throw down her erasable pen with her left hand, and Suzette with her right, she knew the two twins weren’t identical in all things. Melissa, the left-hander, had written the paper.

Confronted by the evidence, Suzette admitted that she had forgotten her paper

Even though she lost a whole letter grade, her exceptional report on “Real Astronomy in the Star Trek Universe” still netted her a solid B+.

Sixty-Second Solutions 3

“It was a leprechaun, I tell you – a leprechaun!”

Thelma Archer shouted at her grandson, Billy. Samantha Spade stood beside the window in Billy’s bedroom, wincing at the high-decibel level.

“Grandma, we believe you saw something,” said Billy. “But a leprechaun?”

“Don’t believe your old Grandma, huh?” Thelma retorted, tapping her temple with one forefinger. “Think she’s going soft in the attic? A few flakes short of a Corn Flakes box, maybe?”

Billy rolled his eyes. “Aw, Gram, it’s nothing like that.”

Thelma was getting geared up for another round of shouting when Samantha interrupted.

“Mrs. Archer, could we go over the facts once again, please?”

Billy had phoned Samantha and told her to get over to his house. His grandmother had been raving that she’d seen a leprechaun climbing the spouting on the house.

Thelma Archer sighed deeply and sat down on Billy’s bed, hands folded primly on her lap.

“It’s like this, dear,” Mrs. Archer said. “I was putting away the clean laundry in Billy’s room before I got ready for work when I saw the leprechaun outside the window, shinnying up the side of the house. He was dressed in green, with reddish-orange hair and a green hat.”

As she spoke, her thick eyeglasses slipped down her nose. She pushed them back up promptly.

“And you were wearing your glasses at the time?” Samantha asked.

“Well, no,” she admitted.

Billy looked momentarily triumphant and was ready to chime in when Samantha elbowed him into silence.

“And did this leprechaun ... do anything?” asked Samantha.

“He hopped up on top of the porch and danced around for a few seconds,” Thelma replied, fiddling with her glasses. “Then, he climbed back down. I called for Billy, but by the time he got here, the leprechaun was gone.”

From Billy’s bedroom window, Samantha could see down the street to Salvador’s Diner, where Thelma worked as a hostess. “What time do you go to work, Mrs. Archer?”

Thelma glanced at her watch and jumped up. “Oh my, I should be there now.”

“We’ll walk with you, if you don’t mind,” Samantha said.

While Mrs. Archer got ready for work, the two friends waited outside, next to a City of Sallami Municipal trashcan (“Keep Sallami Beautiful”). Billy kicked the can in disgust.

“She’s not crazy, Samantha,” he said. “But there’s no way she saw a leprechaun.”

“Calm down,” Samantha replied. “We just need to collect more information. Keep your eyes and ears open.”

A few minutes later the trio was making its way through the parking lot of Salvador’s Diner. Thelma had changed into her uniform, a green top and visor and navy blue slacks.

At the door, Vinnie Furnier, Samantha’s neighbor, who also worked at the restaurant, greeted them. He was also dressed in green and blue, his green visor clashing with his bright orange hair and freckles.

“Greetings, Mrs. Archer,” Vinnie said. “Care for a mint?” He held up a wicker basket filled with individual pieces of chocolate wrapped in green foil. “It’s part of our St. Patty’s Day special.”

“No thank you, Vincent,” said Thelma. “But it’s nice of you to ask.”

Billy leaned over to Samantha and whispered, “Do you smell what I smell?”

“Yeah,” Samantha whispered back. “A rat.”

“I’d offer you a piece of candy, kids, but the boss says to save ‘em for paying customers,” Vincent sneered. He was still angry with Samantha for foiling his attempt steal Billy’s paper route two months earlier.

“What does the boss say about leaving work to climb up people’s spouting, Vinnie?” asked Samantha, sweetly.

Vinnie rolled his eyes. “What are you talking about, Brain Drain? I’ve been here for the last three hours, handing out mints to customers and hawking the $5.99 St. Patty’s Day Stuffed Peppers. It’s a sweet job, too: Mr. Salvador told to eat as many mints as I want. He bought ‘em in bulk.”

Vincent pointed to three boxes of mints stacked against the side of the building. A broom and a dustpan leaned against the boxes. The dustpan was filled with cigarette butts, some restaurant receipts and a crushed Coca-Cola can.

As he spoke, Vinnie unwrapped a mint and popped it into his mouth, stuffing the empty wrapper into his front pocket.

“See, minty fresh breath,” he said, exhaling deeply into Samantha’s face. The reek of chocolate was overpowering.

“We believe you, Vincent,” said Thelma, who turned to scowl at Samantha. “Vincent’s a dear boy, Samantha. He would never lie.”

Behind her back, Vinnie mock-smiled and innocently batted his eyes.

“What’s going on out here?” boomed a baritone voice from the doorway of the restaurant. It was Mr. Salvador, the diner’s owner, wearing a bow tie and a white apron. “I pay you to give out candy, not talk with your school chums, eh?”

Samantha stepped forward and explained her suspicions to Mr. Salvador. He rubbed his chin as he listened. “Vinnie, is this true? Did you leave the restaurant and climb poor Thelma’s roof? I’ve been too busy inside to check on you.”

“No, sir, I’ve been here all the time, sweeping the sidewalk and handing out mints. Oh, and eating a lot of them, too.” He patted his stomach appreciatively.

“Good boy,” said Mr. Salvador. “But where’s your name tag, eh?”

“Oops, forgot to put it on,” Vinnie replied. He thrust both hands into his front pockets and pulled them inside out. The wrapper for the mint he had just eaten fluttered out. Otherwise, they were empty.

“Guess I must have left it at home, Mr. Salvador,” Vinnie said. “Sorry.”

“Sorrier than you know,” Samantha said. “Because now I can prove that you’re our roof-crawling leprechaun.”

HOW DOES SAMANTHA KNOW? SEE BELOW FOR DETAILS.

* * * * *

If Vincent had been eating mints at his job for the last three hours, the mint wrappers would either be in his pockets or in the dustpan. But they weren’t. Samantha concluded that Vinnie had dumped the wrappers in the City of Sallami trashcan outside the Archer’s house.

Faced with the prospect of dumping the municipal trashcan to find the wrappers, Vinnie confessed that he had left his job to pull a prank. He hoped to scare Billy by peeking in his bedroom window. When he saw Mrs. Archer, he was so scared that he lost his balance and almost fell off the roof. He ran back to work, hoping that she hadn’t seen him.

Without her glasses, the near-sighted Mrs. Archer confused Vinnie’s green uniform and orange hair for a leprechaun. The leprechaun’s “dance” was really Vinnie waving his arms to keep his balance.

Vinnie lost his job, but Samantha and Billy got a free meal – the St. Patrick’s Day Stuffed Pepper Special and all the mints they could eat, served by an appreciative Mrs. Salvador and Billy’s grandmother.