Free The Startling Story of the Stolen Statue by Tony Abbott Page A

in hall.
    “It’s not me,” he said.
    We turned one last corner, and there it was.
    The Cafeteri-Audi-Nasium.
    It was the biggest room in the school. It had everything—basketball nets, climbing ropes, bleachers, and cafeteria tables.
    It even had a ramp up to a stage. But when we stepped in, we knew something wasn’t right.
    Kelly froze. “A man is lurking behind the curtain! He did it!” she whispered.
    We didn’t know if anyone had done anything yet, but Kelly was right about one thing. A man was lurking behind the curtain.
    Lurking is a detective word. You use it to describe someone who looks like he is sneaking around. And Kelly thinks pretty much everybody looks sneaky. She’s not always right. But she is great at solving mysteries. I wrote it down.
    Man lurking onstage

    “Sneak up on him,” I said. “Be stealthy.”
    Stealthy is another detective word. It means silent and careful. But I guess Brian was out the day we learned that word. Because he tripped on his shoelaces and fell with a thud.
    “What—?” the lurking man said with a gasp.
    “What—?” we gasped back.

A Stack of Clues
    “ P rincipal Higgins?” I said to the man lurking behind the curtain.
    “Shhh!” whispered Principal Higgins, his face wrinkled in a frown. “I’m hiding!”
    “But we see you right there,” said Kelly.
    “I’m not hiding from you ,” he said.
    We went totally quiet. No one breathed. No one moved. Finally, the principal’s shoulders sank and he sighed a big sigh. “Oh, dear …”
    “Sir,” said Mara, “please tell us— in your own words —exactly what’s wrong.”
    Principal Higgins sighed again. “It’s a calamity, a misadventure of cataclysmic proportions, a tragic and devastating debacle—”
    The thing with Principal Higgins is that his own words are not the same as our own words.
    But one thing I did understand. Principal Higgins was upset. “Excuse me, sir,” I said. “Tell us what’s wrong—in normal words.”
    I had my cluebook open and ready.
    Principal Higgins drew the curtain and crossed the stage to a tall shape covered with a white cloth. “You know that Simon Plunkett was Badger Point School’s first principal one century ago?” he asked.
    “Yes, sir,” said Mara. “The anniversary party tonight is all about Simon Plunkett. We can’t wait to see the new statue of him!”
    Principal Higgins frowned. “This afternoon was very busy for me,” he said. “A student asked to leave early. I had to count the special gifts to be given out to everyone tonight. I ordered the refreshments. Mrs. Bookman, the librarian, brought me a book. I had to write my speech. A thousand things—”

    “Wait!” I said, scribbling all that down.
    Student leaving school early
    Special gifts
    Mrs. Bookman brings a book
    “Okay, go on,” I said.
    The principal put his hand on the cloth. “But when I came to make sure that the new statue was ready, look what I found!”
    He pulled the cloth away, and the “statue” looked just like a pile of chairs stacked up on each other as tall as a person.

    “Chairs?” said Mara. “Simon Plunkett was a bunch of chairs ?”
    “Of course not,” Principal Higgins said.
    “Did he invent chairs?” Brian asked.
    “No, no, you’re not following me,” the principal said.
    “You’re not going anywhere,” said Kelly.
    Principal Higgins shut his eyes and got red in the face. “What I am trying to say is that the statue of our first principal, Principal Plunkett, the statue to be unveiled at our celebration tonight—has been stolen !”
    We all gasped.
    Then I wrote it down.
    Stage
    Statue
    Stolen!
    Of course, stolen is one of the most important detective words of all. Many times it’s the reason there is a mystery in the first place.
    “This crime,” said the principal, “is the worst thing that has happened at Badger Point School in one hundred years.”
    “It’s the Crime of the Century!” said Brian.
    “It is!” said the principal. “And