To Catch a Thief by Martha Brockenbrough

Author:Martha Brockenbrough [Brockenbrough, Martha]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Scholastic Inc.
Published: 2023-04-02T00:00:00+00:00

Amelia had never knocked on Dr. Agatha’s door without at least an offering. A loaf of bread. Molasses cookies. A bouquet of tulips on May Day.

This time, her hands were empty, although she had tucked How to Think Like a Master Detective beneath one arm. She thought it would send a message that she knew about crime and therefore would be difficult to murder.

Amelia also had backup in the form of Dot and Dash, who were hiding in the shrubbery. Colin had stayed behind with the twins and the block dispenser, and Bridget—well, she was wherever she’d stomped off to. It would have been nice to have Bridget by her side, as she’d been when they’d first met Dot and Dash. Bridget could be so stubborn.

The plan was for Amelia to get inside and distract the author. Amelia would take care to leave the door open a titch. Then, when it was safe, Dot and Dash would slip in and hunt for clues or even the dragonfly staff itself.

When they’d made the plan, Amelia had felt hope for the first time in days, even with Bridget being a stick in the mud. Now, though, Amelia felt queasy. She knew she’d have to knock. By herself. She didn’t want to. She looked at her fist, hoping it would coax itself into action. As she stood there, holding her breath, the door swung open.

“Were you ever going to knock? Or were you going to stare at your knuckles all day?”

Dr. Agatha might have been short, but her presence was substantial. Inside, her house was shadowy, but sunlight glazed the doorway, making her look scarier than ever in her cardigan and joggers. She also wore a pointy white blouse, finished with a necktie that had been pierced with a glittering golden pin in the shape of a key. On her feet were slippers, fat and furry ones. Amelia suspected Dr. Agatha had murdered a stuffie and was wearing its feet as a trophy.

“I suppose I should invite you in,” Dr. Agatha said. “Shoes off, please. There are slippers in the basket.”

There were more, and they looked exactly like Dr. Agatha’s. Amelia grimaced as she slipped into a pair, imagining the scream of the stuffed bear at the moment of its untimely death.

“Are you going to stand there like an indolent mime,” Dr. Agatha said, “or are you going to tell me the reason for your visit? My powers of observation have already informed me that you are not bearing carbohydrates or flora. Therefore, you are in need.”

“I—” Amelia said.

So many words could have followed: must get going or wanted to know what time it was or think I’ve made a huge mistake.

Amelia considered the consequence of each. Then she decided, with resignation, that the truth was the best path. It was what the detective book called inevitable: The truth remains when all that is untrue has been wiped away. This is what a good detective does: scrubs off the filth of mystery and the scum of crime to leave a sparkling rightness in its wake.

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