Aven Green Sleuthing Machine Read online

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  STERLING CHILDREN’S BOOKS and the distinctive Sterling Children’s Books logo are registered trademarks of Sterling Publishing Co., Inc.

  Text © 2021 Dusti Bowling

  Cover and interior illustrations © 2021 Gina Perry

  Cover © 2021 Sterling Publishing Co., Inc.

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means (including electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without prior written permission from the publisher.

  ISBN 978-1-4549-4184-2

  For information about custom editions, special sales, and premium and corporate purchases, please contact Sterling Special Sales at 800-805-5489 or [email protected].

  sterlingpublishing.com

  Cover and interior design by Jo Obarowski

  Contents

  1 The Whole Truth

  2 Who, Why, Where, When, and What

  3 P.I. Job Requirements

  4 Not a Trace Left Behind

  5 King Smith of Kansas City

  6 Mrs. Great-Grandma Mabel Jackson

  7 Fresh Dog Hair

  8 Alleged Poop

  9 Eyebrow

  10 Rainbow Barf

  11 Robot Chickens

  12 All Worn Out

  13 Sves, the Swedish Dognapper

  14 Acronyms and Other Revelations

  15 Group Work

  16 Strawberry Paw Print

  17 Celebration Dinner

  18 Retirement

  Aven Green’s Sleuthing Words

  Chapter 1

  The Whole Truth

  Most people don’t realize it, but there are a lot of mysteries to solve in elementary school. I’m only in the third grade, but I’ve been solving mysteries for a really, really, really long time—one whole month.

  And I don’t solve mysteries like any old detective. Nope. You see, I don’t have arms. Yep, you heard me. No arms here on my torso, which I’d like to add is already eight years old.

  Here, I’ll say it again, as you may not have understood me correctly, because most people don’t have as many brain cells as I do: I don’t have any arms or fingers or hands or elbows or forearms or biceps. I just have shoulders, but nothing under them.

  You’re probably wondering why I don’t have arms. People are always curious where they went. Well, they weren’t eaten off by iguanas in the Galapagos. Just try saying that ten times really fast: iguanas in the Galapagos, iguanas in the Galapagos. My tongue already got all twisted.

  My arms weren’t pulled off in a particularly ruthless game of tug of war. They weren’t blown off by a firecracker, and they weren’t flattened by a steamroller.

  Nope. The truth is I was just born like this. I know, I know. Boring stuff. But that’s the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, which my parents make me tell. Otherwise I would have told you a much more interesting story about how they got scrubbed off at the Kansas City Quick Car Wash.

  Anyway, I’ve already solved many mysteries with my brain of many brain cells. In case you don’t know what a brain cell is, it’s like the building block of the brain. Really, cells are the building blocks of everything that’s alive, but they’re not rectangular. They’re more like blobby circles so tiny you need a microscope to see them.

  The very first mysteries I ever solved were The Mystery of the Missing Ice Cream and The Mystery of the Sticky Floor. Here’s the story of those two: one day the mint chip ice cream went missing from the freezer. It simply disappeared like a disappearing magician or something!

  There was nothing but a trail of melty, sticky green drops left behind. Mom and I followed the trail to the kitchen table, where there was still a big circle of melted green ice cream. I had a hunch that it came from a bowl. There was also a spoon left behind with sticky toe prints all over it. Mom and I followed the ice cream trail away from the kitchen table all the way to the trash can, where we found the empty ice cream box!

  So mysteries are easy to solve when you’re the culprit. In case you don’t know what a culprit is, it’s the person who did the crime. And then their parents make them do the time—the time-out, that is.

  I then went on to solve The Mystery of the Bad Breath and The Mystery of the Smelly Feet. Those were pretty easy to solve, too. Just a little toothpaste and soap was all I needed.

  Of course there are some cases even my brain of many brain cells can’t solve. The Mystery of the Cereal in My Underpants is still unsolved to this very day.

  Chapter 2

  Who, Why, Where, When, and What

  I like to write down all the mysteries I solve, so I can keep track of them. I’ve solved so many at this point, Mom had to get me a new pack of paper to keep writing them down. She also helps me organize my mysteries into groups of who, what, where, when, and why mysteries.

  A who case could also be called a whodunit case because it’s all about who’s done it. A good example of a who mystery I solved was The Mystery of the Flower Drawings on Mom’s Romance Book. That was an easy whodunit to solve. Why? ’Cause I dunnit, that’s why.

  A why mystery is when I try to find out why something is happening. A good why mystery I solved happened immediately after The Mystery of the Flower Drawings on Mom’s Romance Book. I called it The Mystery of the Cranky Mom. It’s a why case because I thought to myself, “Why is Mom so cranky?” Then I thought to myself, “Oh yeah, because I drew flowers all over her book.” I thought they really added to the cover, but I didn’t realize it was a library book.

  By the way—in case you’re wondering how a person without arms draws flowers on a romance book, let me tell you: They use their feet. Or at least I do. I can’t speak for every person in the world who doesn’t have arms, and there are a lot more of us than you realize. I suppose some people might use their mouths to draw flowers on a romance book. Or maybe they don’t ever draw flowers on a romance book and then their moms are never cranky.

  Another good why mystery I solved was The Mystery of Why Valerie Gave Me Winter Gloves for My Birthday. The answer to that one is that Valerie doesn’t have as many brain cells as I do.

  Not all of my mysteries are so easy to solve, though. A good where mystery I solved was The Mystery of Emily’s Missing Glue Stick. Only I could find that missing glue stick. I found it right under Emily’s butt.

  A when mystery is when I try to figure out when something happened or when something is going to happen. A when mystery I try to solve pretty much every day is The Mystery of When I’m Going to Get My Dessert.

  The last type of mystery I try to solve is the hardest. These are the what mysteries. I call them what mysteries because when I try to solve them I ask myself, “What in the world is going on?” A good what mystery I solved was The Mystery of the Poop in the Middle of My Bedroom Floor. It ended up being just a candy bar, not poop, which meant it also solved the daily Mystery of When I’m Going to Get My Dessert. That one was really tough. And tasty.

  Chapter 3

  P.I. Job Requirements

  I’m so good at solving mysteries that Mom and Dad have even called me a private investigator, or P.I., for short. I’ve looked up what it takes to become a P.I., and it’s very hard. One thing that’s helpful if you want to be a P.I. is being able to speak multiple languages. I can already speak four.

  Okay, I can already speak parts of four languages.

  I can speak English: Long Live the Queen!

  I can speak some Spanish: Uno, dos, tres, and all the way up to diez.

  I can speak some French: Oui! Bonjour! Eiffel Tower! French bread! French toast! French fries!

  I can speak some pir
ate: Arrr, mihardies!

  Another thing that’s helpful for being a P.I. is having a really good memory, so you can remember important facts and your P.I. kit (which every serious P.I. should have) and also when it’s time to eat dessert.

  But the thing that’s probably the most helpful of all things is having a super-powered brain full of lots of extra brain cells. In case you’re wondering why I have so many extra brain cells, I think I’ve solved that mystery, too: The Mystery of Why I Have So Many Extra Brain Cells. Here’s what I think: All of the cells that were supposed to make my arms went into making my brain instead. Two arms are a lot bigger than a brain, so it’s amazing that my brain hasn’t burst right through my skull.

  And this wasn’t in any of the requirements I’ve read about, but I would just like to add that a P.I. should probably take at least one bath every week. Remember, it’s P.I., not P.U. Also, a P.I. should definitely be potty-trained. Because it’s P.I., not Pee Pants.

  But you know one thing I’ve never read as being necessary to be a good P.I.? Having arms. That’s what.

  Chapter 4

  Not a Trace Left Behind

  So one day I was just sitting at my school desk, turning the pages of my science book with my toes, learning all about how polar bears and penguins live on two different sides of the earth (mind blown!), when my teacher, Ms. Luna, announced it was time for us all to get ready to go to lunch. Then she let out a bloodcurdling scream! Well, maybe it was more like a small shriek. Or a very loud gasp.

  Okay, she really just clucked her tongue.

  I closed my book and looked up at her. “Someone took my lunch,” she said.

  “When?” I asked, my P.I. brain of power already in full motion.

  “While we were at the media center,” she said. “They took all of it, even my new lunch bag.”

  “Not a trace left behind,” I added, pursing my lips.

  Ms. Luna nodded in agreement. “Not that I can see.” She peeked under her desk like she thought her lunch bag might be playing hide-and-seek with her. She stood back up. “Nada. It’s totally gone.”

  I glanced around suspiciously at my classmates. Kayla, my best friend, looked at me, her brown eyes big and surprised. Emily, my other best friend, had her unibrow raised in a show of great excitement. I loved Emily’s unibrow. It was like a cute fluffy brown caterpillar crawling right across her big forehead. I was so excited that Kayla and Emily were coming to my house on Friday after school. We were planning on painting each other’s toenails and having a full-blown Ninja competition and eating boxed macaroni and cheese for dinner because Mom always saves the best dinners for my special guests and—

  I shook my head and turned my attention back to Ms. Luna. A P.I. never allows herself to get too distracted, even when the most exciting sleepover of all time is coming up.

  Unfortunately, I didn’t have my P.I. kit with me, so I couldn’t dust for fingerprints. I glanced around the room at my classmates. “Reveal yourself, culprit!” I called out. I squinted at Robert. If anyone was capable of stealing Ms. Luna’s lunch, it was Robert. He gave me a dirty look but didn’t say anything. Everyone else stayed quiet, too, so my first strategy to reveal the criminal failed.

  Ms. Luna’s mouth dropped open. “Oh,” she gasped. “I hate to think that it was one of you.”

  “Maybe it was Aven Mean Green!” Robert yelled.

  I was most certainly not Aven Mean Green. I was nice to everyone.

  “The only one who’s mean around here is you!” I called back at him.

  “You smell like toads!” Robert yelled back.

  “I don’t even know what toads smell like!” I said, though I was still really mad about what he said. “And you be quiet when you’re talking to me!” I told him.

  Ms. Luna raised her hands. “That’s enough, you two.”

  If it wasn’t Robert who’d stolen the lunch, then this was going to be a tough who case. I would certainly bring my P.I. kit to school tomorrow so I could figure out The Mystery of Who Stole Ms. Luna’s Lunch and Brand-New Lunch Bag Because, P.S., It Wasn’t Robert. Maybe I’d shorten that mystery name.

  Ms. Luna told us all to line up for lunch, so I put my science book away and slipped my tie-dyed flats on. I always wore flats because they were easy to slip on and off. I had six pairs: tie-dyed, sparkles, smiley faces, kitties, purple, and plain old white (booooring).

  We all lined up at the door. “But what are you going to eat?” I asked Ms. Luna.

  She sighed. “I guess I’ll have to eat cafeteria food today.”

  “Well, lucky for you, today is chicken nugget day,” Emily said. “They’re shaped like dinosaurs, too.”

  Ms. Luna wrinkled her nose. “Lucky me indeed.”

  Then we all marched in a line toward the smelly cafeteria. We were surprised at what we saw as we walked up to the counter to get our nuggets. Cafeteria workers waved their hands in the air as they spoke to each other. Apparently, not only had someone stolen Ms. Luna’s lunch, they’d also stolen an entire bag of sandwich bread, leaving only the ripped-open bag and some bread crumbs behind.

  “Just look at this disaster!” one of the workers declared. “Who would do such a thing?”

  I stood up on my tiptoes so I could see inside the kitchen and scanned over the crummy mess. “Someone who is a very messy eater,” I said. It looked even worse than under the kitchen table after I’d eaten a bowl of Cheerios. Mom always complained that I put nearly as many Cheerios on the floor as in my belly, but she was wrong. There were usually more Cheerios on the floor than in my belly.

  This couldn’t be a coincidence. Someone stole Ms. Luna’s lunch and brand-new lunch bag, and now someone had stolen a bag of bread from the cafeteria. I was sensing a pattern. I formed a hypothesis in my mind. A hypothesis is a really good guess about why something’s happening. And my hypothesis was that the same person had stolen the lunch bag and the bread, and they were probably still nearby.

  The Mystery of the School Food Thief was going to be a tough mystery to solve, but if anyone could solve it, I could. Right after I finished my dinosaur-shaped chicken nuggets.

  Chapter 5

  King Smith of Kansas City

  After school, I sat down to work in my P.I. office, which is located on top of the middle couch cushion in our living room. I was doing some important research, which may or may not include watching episodes of Scooby-Doo, when Mom came in with a sad look on her face.

  My brain went over all the things I could have done wrong that day.

  Drawing on one of her books? Nope.

  Eating candy before dinner? Possibly.

  Forgetting to flush the toilet? Probably.Leaving grimy footprints on the couch? Absolutely, though it was really hard to tell which ones were new.

  Mom flopped down on the couch with a sigh. “King Smith of Kansas City is missing.”

  I jumped up. “Oh no!” King Smith of Kansas City wasn’t really a king; he was my great-grandma’s dog, which was even worse than if an actual king were missing. We usually called him Smitty for short, but I could tell this was a highly serious situation, and in highly serious situations, it is always best to use full legal names. Legal means it’s not against the law, so I could use full legal names all I wanted.

  I sat back down next to her and immediately got to work. I picked up my pencil with my toes and positioned a paper on the coffee table. “Where was he last seen, Laura Green?” I asked my mom. Like I said, full legal names.

  “She let him out yesterday morning, and he never came back.”

  I wrote all of this pertinent information down. In case you don’t know what pertinent means, it basically just means important. I think one day someone must have been eating a very large donut, and they meant to say important, but it came out all muffled and a new word was created. Like this one time, I was eating a large donut, and I tried to say “delicious,” but instead it just came out “gugushus.” As far as I know, gugushus has not been added to the dictionary yet.
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  But like I said, a P.I. never gets distracted, so moving back to King Smith of Kansas City, which was the pertinent issue. “Which door did she let him out of?” I asked. “Front or back?”

  She frowned. “I didn’t think to ask her that.”

  I nodded. “Of course you didn’t. Only real P.I.s think of the pertinent questions.” I set my pencil down and stood up. “You better take me over there. I’ll need to investigate while there’s still time.”

  Chapter 6

  Mrs. Great-Grandma Mabel Jackson

  Mom dropped me off at Grandma’s trailer and left to run some errands, which was good. I didn’t need her messing up the crime scene with all her fingerprints.

  I sat down on the ugly green couch with Grandma, who had her face scrunched up extra wrinkly today. “I just don’t know why he’d run off like that,” she said, her voice all quivery. “He’s never done this before.”

  I picked up the pad and pencil with my feet and set them on the coffee table. “Now, Mrs. Great-Grandma Mabel Jackson, if that is your real name, I have some very important questions for you.”

  She nodded. “Shoot.”

  I cleared my throat. “Are there any dessert foods on these premises?”

  She frowned. “Yes. Do you think that has something to do with his disappearance?”

  I narrowed my eyes at her. “That depends. What sort of dessert foods do you have on these premises?” These premises is a really official way to talk about a place, and I liked to be as official as possible while working.

  Grandma removed her thick glasses and cleaned them with her polka-dot blouse. “Well, I think I have some banana bread.”

  “You’d better bring it out here immediately,” I said. “It could be good bait for King Smith of Kansas City. And if that doesn’t work, it will be good brain fuel for me.” Lots of brain cells means lots of extra brain fuel is needed to keep them happy.