The Mystery of the Radcliffe Riddle by Taryn Souders

Author:Taryn Souders
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Sourcebooks

CHAPTER 19

WHEN WE GOT OUTSIDE, we saw it wasn’t Charlie’s Diner on fire. It was Badger Paulin’s lawn-mower repair shop. Broken, old lawn mowers had belched out smoke for years over at Badger’s, but this time the billowing color looked…different. And serious. The air stank of burnt rubber and oil.

We waited on our side of the street as Gifton’s volunteer fire truck wailed past, and then Clemmie, Thad, and I dashed to the other side. The gathering crowd outside the repair shop elbowed one another asking questions and probably making up answers. Someone mentioned Ida Rose should be notified so she could bring a dessert of some kind. But at the rate smoke poured from the back of the building, I figured all we really needed were marshmallows and some skewers. The crowd parted as Deputy Oringderff arrived. Winifred Paulin stood outside, wringing her hands as blackish-gray smoke rose from behind her brother’s shop. “Where’s Badger? Has anyone seen Badger?”

“I’m sure he’s fine,” Deputy Oringderff said. “The building doesn’t look to be on fire. I think it’s something out back.” She hustled away and around the side.

As if on cue, Badger stumbled around the opposite corner, coughing and clinging to Mayor Shore.

“Badger!” Winifred flung herself at her brother. She hugged him and then held him at arm’s length. “Where’s your left eyebrow?”

Badger rubbed the bare spot on his face. “Uh…”

Mayor Shore wriggled off his fireman’s coat. “Probably got singed when the fire leaped from the barrel.”

The crowd surrounded Badger, hurling questions at him. Clemmie, Thad, and I stood our ground near the front. Muggie Shore elbowed past us, took the mayor’s fire helmet, and handed him his baseball cap with PRESS stitched on the front, along with his small notebook. He pointed to the thinning smoke, rising from the back of the repair building. “How did this start? What happened?”

“I…uh, I was just burning some stuff in the barrel, but a spark flew out…”

The mayor frowned and scribbled notes.

“It must’ve landed on an oil patch and then—”

“Wait. What kind of stuff?” the mayor asked.

“You know. Stuff.” Badger’s eyes darted back and forth from the ground to the crowd. “Stuff that needs burning. Some papers, old rags, a pallet I busted up.”

Deputy Oringderff appeared behind Badger wearing a fireman’s gloves and holding a pair of smoldering boots. A good part of the tread on both shoes had melted into a globular mass. “Size 12?”

Winifred gasped.

Badger gulped.

The crowd gaped.

Thad nudged me. “That explains the burnt rubber smell.”

“Boots!” Winifred poked him in the chest. “Badger! You nincompoop! You torched your work boots? What in heaven’s name were you thinking?”

“I–I got nervous.” He turned wide-eyed to Deputy Oringderff. “You said you found size 12 boot prints at the Monkey. That’s my size! And everyone at the diner heard me say I wanted to get my hands on that treasure.” His face paled under soot smudges. He looked as guilty as sin. “What if they thought I was the murderer!”

Deputy Oringderff groaned. “Now that you’ve tried to destroy evidence, of course they’re—”

Badger stepped back.

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