This past March, during Maple Madness, the sap lines at Freeman Farm and Maynard’s Maple Barn had been cut. Everyone suspected sabotage, and things had gotten pretty heated for a while. It had been like the Hatfields and the McCoys around town, with accusations flying and neighbors taking sides against neighbors before my friends and I had finally caught the real culprit.
“Hey,” said Scooter, sauntering over. Calhoun and Lucas were with him.
“Hey back,” I replied.
“Did you guys have any luck?”
We shook our heads.
“Neither did we,” said Calhoun.
The three boys sat down on the grass beside us.
“If the trophy were smaller, I’d say maybe a magpie took it,” I told my friends.
“What’s a magpie?” asked Scooter.
“A bird that likes shiny things.”
The problem was, you’d need a bird the size of an ostrich to carry away a trophy like the silver pumpkin, and ostriches were in short supply in New England. We did have eagles, though. Gramps had taken me to see them out at Cherry Island on Lake Lovejoy.
“Sounds to me like a case for the Pumpkin Falls Private Eyes,” said Scooter, glancing at Mackenzie. Like Lucas, he had a crush on her too.
“This is the last day of our family reunion,” I told him. “We don’t have time for that.”
“Where’s your civic spirit?” he protested. “We should at least pool our knowledge and do a little preliminary investigating together.”
I didn’t want to investigate. I wanted to go the lake, where Grandma G had a big picnic prepared, and where there were paddleboards and kayaks and swimming. It was my reward for running the stupid road race.
“Mackenzie’s leaving tomorrow,” I told him. “We want to spend the day together.”
“You would be,” Lucas pointed out, crossing his pale arms over his chest and trying to sound grown-up and important. “Plus, the trail’s going to go cold if we don’t hop on it.”
“Lucas is right,” Calhoun agreed. “We should move on this.”
“Fine,” I snapped, getting to my feet. It was unlikely we could solve this mystery before tomorrow, but it was also unlikely that my friends would shut up about it if we didn’t at least try. There was one obstacle, though. “Our parents will say no,” I warned. “They’re sticklers about us all staying together during our family reunion.”
Surprisingly, though, this time they weren’t.
“Sure,” said both my father and Uncle Teddy, when Mackenzie and I asked if we could hang out with our friends for the afternoon instead of joining everyone at the lake.
“Just be back home in time to freshen up for the clambake,” my mother added.
My sister Lauren, who had officially become a member of the Pumpkin Falls Private Eyes over Spring Break, was torn between staying with us and going swimming with our younger cousins.
“This is a wild-goose chase,” I told her. “Go to the lake. You have to go back to camp tonight after the fireworks, remember? It’s the last chance you’ll get to hang out with everyone.”
“Promise you’ll tell me if anything interesting happens?”
I nodded. “I promise.”
Hatcher opted for the lake too. “Sorry, Droo—I mean Truly,” he corrected himself. “I won’t see our cousins for a whole year otherwise.”
Uncle Teddy gave Mackenzie money to treat us all to lunch at the food truck, and then my family left. After we ate, we retreated to Lovejoy’s Books, which was air-conditioned, for our meeting.
The bookshop was busy. We’d been planning to close for the Fourth of July, but with all the tourists in town, my father and Aunt True had changed their minds.
“Gotta make hay while the sun shines,” Aunt True had said.
Good call, I thought, eyeing the throng of customers. Belinda had volunteered to man the fort so that my father and aunt could spend the afternoon at the lake, and she’d corralled Augustus into helping. He was holding court over at Cup and Chaucer, dispensing beverages along with recommendations for books—most notably his own.
“I see you like Earl Grey tea,” I overheard him tell an older lady who was hanging on his every word. Augustus had a lot of fangirls. “You may enjoy my own Earl of Hearts.”
I smothered a grin. I’d have to tell Hatcher about that one later.
“It’s too crowded to meet here,” said Calhoun, glancing around.
I agreed. “The library is open. How about we go there?”
The library was usually closed on Sundays, but Mr. Henry and the staff had decided to keep it open for race day, so that visitors could use the restrooms. No unsightly porta-potties for Pumpkin Falls, no sirree. We headed back down Main Street toward the village green. Our town’s lone police car was parked outside the library. Inside, we found Officer Tanglewood at the front desk, chatting with Mr. Henry.
Officer Tanglewood smirked at us. “Well, if it isn’t Nancy Drew and—what is it you call yourselves? The Pumpkin Falls Private Eyes?”
“As I recall, John,” said Mr. Henry, giving us a discreet wink, “these enterprising young people were the ones responsible for finding the sap rustler last March. And Truly here proved herself a real-life Nancy Drew indeed! You’ll remember that she was the one who found her sister when she went missing.”
That wiped the smirk off Officer Tanglewood’s face.
“What can I do for you?” asked Mr. Henry, and I explained that we were looking for a quiet spot to meet.
“There’s no one in the children’s room at the moment,” he told us. “It’s all yours. I assume you’re turning your attention to the missing trophy. Any strategies you can share?”
My friends all looked over at me. For some reason they’d decided I was in charge of the Pumpkin Falls Private Eyes. Which I wasn’t.
“Well,” I began, then stopped. We didn’t really have a plan yet. Officer Tanglewood saw me hesitate. His lips started to curl again, and I felt my face flush with annoyance. “I thought we’d ask Janet at the Patriot-Bugle if we could look over the photographs she took of the race this morning,” I said, plunging ahead with more confidence than I felt. “She may
