Edgar Allan's Official Crime Investigation Notebook by Mary Amato
Edgar pointed to the message that Mr. Crew had painted on the wall.
A POEM IS A GIFT.
Mr. Crew smiled. “Well. You have quite a theory. But I still don’t see the proof.”
Edgar walked over to Mr. Crew’s closet and opened the door. With a flourish, he removed a sweatshirt that was blocking the front of the middle shelf. One by one Edgar set the stolen objects on Mr. Crew’s desk: the silk iris, the lovely black and red fan, and the box of tea.
A pair of black gloves came next. “I believe you wore these gloves to prevent your fingerprints from being left at the scene of the crimes,” Edgar said. Then he held out the final evidence: an empty goldfish bowl and a net. “You didn’t want to hurt Slurpy, so you transferred the fish to another tank in this bowl. Am I right?”
Edgar’s classmates stared at the empty bowl.
Mr. Crew clapped. “Bravo! You have done it! I am the thief!”
The class erupted.
“Where is Slurpy?” Maia asked.
“Safe and sound in Ms. Barrett’s tank,” Mr. Crew said. “Excellent detective work and a very cool idea to put on the play.”
“That was Destiny’s idea,” Edgar said.
“But Edgar is the one who solved the mystery,” Destiny said.
“Well done, Edgar.”
Everyone clapped. Edgar looked around. It was as if he were onstage and the spotlight was shining right on him.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
“Edgar, would you and your fellow actors like to get Slurpy and return everything to Ms. Herschel?” Mr. Crew asked.
Edgar nodded eagerly. He, Taz, and Destiny raced to the kindergarten room. Being the only ones in the hallway made them feel important.
“Well, I guess my fish-sitting days are over,” Ms. Barrett said.
She helped the trio put some aquarium water in Mr. Crew’s empty fish bowl and then let Edgar scoop Slurpy out of the tank and drop him into the bowl.
“Slurpy and the other fish were very compatible,” she said. “Why don’t you take along another fish to keep Slurpy company?”
Edgar, Taz, and Destiny thought that was a great idea and chose a gold fish with red-tipped fins named Fred.
When they arrived at Ms. Herschel’s room, Ms. Herschel was sitting alone at her desk.
“You solved it!?” she asked when she saw them walk in with the goods.
“It was Mr. Crew!” Edgar said.
She smiled and said, “Great job.”
“Hey,” Taz said. “Were you and Mr. Crew partners in crime?”
She laughed. “Mr. Crew told me what he was going to do,” she admitted. “From what I hear, his little idea worked. He said you all wrote a lot of great poetry in the past two weeks. It also inspired some real forensic studying, especially from Patrick, which was very cool.”
Gently they poured the fish into the newly-cleaned tank.
“Welcome home, Slurpy,” Destiny said. “And welcome to your new home, Fred.”
On their way back to Mr. Crew’s classroom, Taz said, “Did you see the look on Patrick’s face when Edgar revealed the stuff in the closet?”
“I thought he looked sad,” Destiny said.
“Jealous,” Taz said.
“Maybe jealous and sad at the same time,” Destiny said.
Edgar knew he’d be jealous and sad if Patrick had been the crime solver.
“I realized something sad,” Destiny said. “No more thefts.”
“You’re right,” Edgar said. “It’s going to feel funny not to have a mystery to solve.” But with teachers like Mr. Crew and Ms. Herschel, it was still bound to be a good year, he thought.
The rest of the afternoon passed quickly. After PE, they went back to Ms. Herschel’s room for final dismissal. While everyone was busy getting their backpacks ready for the end of the day, Edgar noticed Patrick walk over to the trash can and drop his crime investigation notebook in with a clunk.
The principal’s voice came over the intercom, announcing that walkers were dismissed.
As Patrick left the room, Edgar crossed over to the garbage can, quickly pulled out the discarded notebook, and slipped it into his own backpack.
That evening at dinner, Edgar told the entire story about how Mr. Crew planned and carried out his mysterious plot and how he, Edgar, solved it with the help of his friends. Henri didn’t interrupt once, his parents were on the edge of their seats, and Rosy was riveted.
“A genius!” his father exclaimed.
His mom planted a red kiss on his cheek. “We’re so proud of you!”
Rosy said, “Goo! Goo!”
Even Henri said, “Yeah. Nice job, bro.”
Edgar couldn’t remember ever being as happy.
After dinner, his dad suggested they leave the dishes for a little while. He strapped Rosy onto his back and they all headed out to the front yard, which was nice and flat, to play croquet. When his mom won and did a cartwheel, they all started doing cartwheels, and Edgar noticed with glee that his cartwheel had improved greatly. Then Edgar taught Rosy how to do a somersault, which made her squeal.
Mr. Timmid came out and laughed and said, “You guys are the craziest bunch I’ve ever seen.”
“Come and join us,” Tubby yelled.
Their neighbor hesitated for a moment, and then he crossed the street. There was something so wonderful about seeing Mr. Timmid trying to do a cartwheel that it made Edgar want to laugh and cry at the same time. He looked at his parents’ goofy smiles and imagined how much joy they must bring to sick kids every day, and his heart danced with love and pride.
Nothing could spoil Edgar’s mood. Even when it was time to go in and do homework, there was a bright side: At least it was Henri’s turn to do the dishes.
After Edgar finished his homework he remembered Patrick’s notebook in his backpack. He settled into the comfy reading chair in their living room and, while his parents rehearsed the duet that they were going to play for the Cabaret, Edgar opened it up. Page after page of notes about evidence and suspects in Patrick’s careful handwriting. Edgar felt a pang of guilt about reading it, but then he reminded himself that Patrick had thrown it away. Edgar kept turning the pages until he saw the poems.
My House
My house sits
with its mouth closed.
You can walk by it
and the flowers in the front say,
“Everything is all right.”
But they’re lying.
And my house sits
with its mouth closed.
Two Instead of Three
Two instead of three
Doesn’t feel right to me
Why can’t they stay together?
Is it me?
He read the poems over and over. Could Patrick’s parents be getting a divorce? Edgar tried to imagine what it would be like if his dad or his mom left. . . . It would be terrible. He tried to imagine what the house would feel like, especially if he didn’t have a brother or sister. Is that what Patrick was going through right now?
Edgar looked up at his parents. They were both swaying back and forth as they played an old waltz, his mom, strumming on her ukelele, and his dad, pumping his accordion in and out. Rosy, in the Baby Bouncer harness, had fallen fast asleep. When they were done, Twig said, “You didn’t play too bad for an old man!” and Tubby punched her in the arm with a smile.
“Hey,” Edgar said. “Do you guys know Patrick Chen’s parents?”
His mom glanced over her shoulder. “I know his dad from PTA. Why?”
“Are they . . . do you know if they’re together?”
She turned around. “Actually, they separated a month ago.”
Edgar was right.
“Does he seem sad about it?” his mom asked.
“I think so,” Edgar said.
“Is Patrick a friend?” his dad asked.
“He’s in my class,” Edgar said.
“Do you want to talk more about it?” his mom asked.
??
After assuring him that he could talk to them anytime, his parents resumed practicing and Edgar picked up his notebook.
Today is the day I finally solved the mystery. I am celebrating. But I am also feeling sorry for Patrick. If every person saw every other person’s sadness, then there couldn’t ever be such a thing as a complete enemy because how can you totally hate somebody who you feel sorry for?
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
The next day, Taz was waiting at the flagpole with his mom and a new puppy! Destiny had already arrived by the time Edgar’s bus pulled up. All his classmates on the bus gathered around.
“His name is Boomie,” Taz said, scooping him up in his arms so Edgar could see him.
The puppy was a tiny white bundle with a wide-awake face, a wet black nose, and a sloppy pink tongue.
“Say hi to Edgar,” Taz said, and he held out one of Boomie’s tiny paws.
Edgar shook it and the puppy licked his hand.
“You can come over and play with him anytime,” Taz said.
The morning unfolded with the usual mix of deciphering and daydreaming, drudgery and delight. Before Edgar knew it, the bell was ringing for recess, and he was struck with a problem. He wanted to invite Taz and Destiny to meet him at the willow tree, but he didn’t know how. Could he just walk up to them and ask, “Do you want to go to the willow tree?” Wouldn’t that sound stupid? If they asked why, what would he say?
He carried the problem with him as the class tumbled out to the playground, but then something wonderful happened. The three new friends gravitated toward one another, and they all headed toward the willow tree without needing an invitation or a reason, as naturally as three leaves floating down a lazy stream.
Maia caught up with them, her round face shining. Gabriela was close behind. “I have an idea!” Maia exclaimed. “Since it’s Mr. Crew’s birthday, maybe we could write him a poem. All together.”
Destiny’s smile was dazzling.
“Only if it can be funny,” Taz said.
Kip popped out from behind the tree. “I heard that. I want in.” He held out his bag of gummy worms.
“Don’t mind if I do,” Edgar said, popping one into his mouth. He glanced back. The playground was a hive of activity—kids playing soccer, shooting hoops, shouting, laughing, chasing—but Patrick was alone, sitting on the bottom of the slide.
“Hey Patrick,” he called. “We’re planning a birthday present for Mr. Crew. Come on.”
Patrick stood for a moment, stunned, then he ran over.
“We’re going to write a poem for Mr. Crew,” Destiny said.
Patrick’s eyeballs, Edgar noticed, brightened considerably.
They sat in a circle under the majestic old tree, Edgar taking the place of honor, with his back against the trunk.
Maia put the pad of paper she brought on her knee. “Where should we start?”
“Let’s all brainstorm lots of ideas,” Destiny said.
“But first, let’s have a moment of silence,” Taz said, in perfect imitation of Mr. Crew. “Silence is the water that helps your imagination to grow.”
Gabriela giggled.
Edgar closed his eyes and soaked in the silence, feeling each of his classmates doing the same thing. The rise and fall of the shouts on the playground sounded far away. Above him came the gentle tweeting of one bird to another. A light breeze was blowing, tickling the hair on the back of his neck and rustling the leaves of the willow tree. He imagined the breeze entering in with his breath, swirling and floating and zipping around inside him. This is happiness, Edgar thought.
He was the first to begin.
AUTHOR’S NOTE
Dear Reader,
Here are a few more mysteries to solve. Don’t peek at the answers.
–Mary Amato
1. Which famous poet and writer is Edgar Allan named after?
2. Mr. Browning, the custodian, and Ms. Barrett, the kindergarten teacher, have famous names. Who were the real Mr. Browning and Ms. Barrett and what were they known for?
3. In chapter eighteen, when Mr. Crew sees the kids waiting outside Ms. Herschel’s door, he says “Ah. The huddled masses yearning to breathe free have arrived.” What famous poem is he quoting from? Who wrote the poem and where is the poem displayed?
4. Edgar and Destiny write a poem on a stone memorializing Bandit. What is a poem written on a tombstone called?
5. Authors carefully choose details within the story to match or to amplify the themes of the book. What did I choose as the project for Edgar’s class to work on in art? Why did I choose this?
6. What is the name of Mr. Crew’s favorite tea and why is it significant?
BONUS MYSTERY
Do any of the thief’s poems sound familiar to you? The thief “stole” the beginnings of four famous poems by four famous American poets and wrote parodies of these poems. Find the four poems and the name of each poet. Then write the first initial of each poet’s first name (in the order that the poems appear in the book). What do the letters spell?!
ANSWERS TO 1–6:
1. The famous poet Edgar is named after is Edgar Allan Poe.
2. The real Robert Browning and Elizabeth Barrett were famous poets who were madly in love with one another.
3. The poem that Mr. Crew quoted in chapter eighteen is called “The New Colossus,” written by Emma Lazarus. It is engraved inside the pedestal of the Statue of Liberty.
4. A poem written on a tombstone is called an epitaph.
5. The art project was to make masks. This was a good choice for this story because masks hide true identities and are often associated with secrets and mysteries.
6. Mr. Crew’s favorite tea is called Tennyson Tea, named after the poet Alfred, Lord Tennyson.
ANSWERS TO THE BONUS MYSTERY
“Thief,” the first poem, is based on “Fog” by Carl Sandburg.
“Stopping by This Room on a Rainy Morning,” the second poem, is based on “Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening” by Robert Frost.
“I’m the Thief! Who are You?,” the third poem, is based on “I’m Nobody! Who are You?” by Emily Dickinson.
“This Is Just to Explain,” the fourth poem, is based on “This is Just to Say” by William Carlos Williams.
C for Carl Sandburg, R for Robert Frost, E for Emily Dickinson, and W for William Carlos Williams. C-R-E-W! It spells the last name of the thief, Mr. Crew!
FINAL NOTE
Remember, a poem is a gift. So write a lot of poems and share them with the friends and family in your life.
Mary Amato, Edgar Allan's Official Crime Investigation Notebook