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

now I must cancel the party and call the police! I wanted to tell you first, since you were in charge of all the wonderful decorations.”
    I felt dizzy. “No!” I said.
    “I have no choice,” he said. “We have only two hours before the celebration, and our statue has vanished without a trace!”
    And that’s the difference between normal people and Goofballs.
    “There is always a trace,” I said slowly.
    “And we’ll find that trace,” said Mara. “Let us find the statue. We can do it. Please?”
    “You? Oh, I don’t know …,” he started.
    “Sir,” Kelly began, “the Goofballs are famous. We ended the Totally Incredible Pizza Disaster. We found Randall Crandall’s missing pony. We figured out who threw the Flying First Grader. We even solved the case of the stolen statue! Oh, wait. That’s this case. But we will solve it, I promise!”

    “We all promise!” said Mara. Principal Higgins looked doubtful.
    “Sir,” I said, “this is a job for the experts.”
    “But I thought it was a job for us,”said Brian.
    I looked at him.
    “Oh, wait. We are the experts.”
    Principal Higgins paced the stage. He looked at the chairs, then out at the empty Cafeteri-Audi-Nasium. Finally, he said, “I suppose two hours won’t make a difference. Go ahead. Do your Goofball best.”
    I started to write that in my cluebook when footsteps squeaked suddenly behind us.
    Kelly spun around. “ He did it!” she cried, even before seeing who it was.

    But it was only the custodian, Mr. Wick.
    Except that only is wrong, because Mr. Wick does way more than clean. He teaches art. He coaches sports. He drives a bus. He cooks in the kitchen. He even directs school shows.
    Maybe he should have a longer name, too!
    Like Mr.Wickercleanerteachercooker-drivercoach!
    “I just came to say that I found a visitor scratching to get in,” Mr. Wick said, and a dog with tall ears and no tail galloped over.
    “Sparky!” I said. “Come here, boy!”
    Sparky is my corgi, the official Goofdog and a valued member of our mystery-solving team.
    “A dog in our school?” asked the principal.
    “He’s part of the Goofball crew,” I told him.
    “Goof! Goof!” Sparky barked.
    Principal Higgins sighed one last time. “I’ll call your parents and tell them you are here.”
    Then he left the room with Mr. Wick.
    “If we solve an official school mystery, our fame will spread everywhere!” said Kelly.
    “Like warm peanut butter,” added Mara.
    I stepped to the podium and tapped the microphone. “Goofballs, your attention, please. You know the drill. What’s first?”
    “First, we each take a wall!” said Mara.
    “Second, we put our noses to the floor!” said Brian.
    “Third, we hope there’s nothing stinky down there,” said Kelly as she watched Brian unfold a “laser” helmet of earmuffs, tiny mirrors, and a scuba mask with no glass in it.
    I nodded. “And what’s fourth?”
    Everyone was too busy gawking at Brian’s goofy invention to answer.

    “Goofballs!” I cried. “I said, what’s fourth?”
    “We search for clues!” they all said.
    And that’s just what we did.

The Cafeteri-Audi-Nasium!
    W hile solving our last few mysteries, the Goofballs have developed a system for finding clues. It’s called T HE G OOFBALL S YSTEM FOR F INDING C LUES .
    Mara took the north wall of the room. Kelly took the south wall. I took the east wall. Brian took the west wall. Sparky took the middle.
    “Ready?” I said. “Begin!”
    It must have looked like a really silly dance, but it’s how Goofballs solve cases.
    Mara was down on her hands and knees, staring through her greenrimmed glasses.

    Kelly power walked in super-slow motion over every inch of her part of the room, her eyes as wide as a couple of searchlights.
    Brian zigzagged along his wall, three steps away, three steps back, scanning the floor through his laser helmet like an alien detective.
    I was bent in half, creeping along with baby steps, my nose grazing the