Free The Magician's Bird by Emily Fairlie

Except that night, he switched it around and made himself disappear instead. And he never reappeared.”
    Misti frowned. “How is this a murder? It sounds like he skipped town.”
    Bud shook his head. “That’s what the cops thought, but no one saw him leave backstage. So they went to his house, and when they got there, it was completely trashed, and there was blood everywhere. Like, tons of it. I didn’t print out the picture I found of the scene, because it was really bad. CSI -type stuff.”
    Bud swallowed hard. He hadn’t realized quite howmuch blood people had inside. He’d almost barfed on the keyboard.
    â€œSo how is Maria Tutweiler involved?” Laurie said, leaning forward.
    â€œBeats me. I know she knew him, but I don’t know why she would kill him. LeFranco had those pictures, though. Maybe her fingerprints are on the murder weapon or something.”
    Laurie bit her lip. “LeFranco said she was into bootlegging—you know, alcohol smuggling, that kind of thing. That would fit, wouldn’t it? Wouldn’t that mean she was mixed up with organized crime?”
    Bud shrugged again. “Maybe. I hadn’t thought of that.” The secret room was starting to make a whole lot more sense, and in a really bad way.
    â€œI didn’t find anything about bootlegging, though. I mostly found pictures of him and the Marchetti Bird.” Laurie passed the picture from Life magazine to Misti. “That’s the Marchetti Bird there—that’s what they called it. It was almost as famous as he was, apparently. He used it in his act, and no one ever could figure out how it worked.”
    Misti examined the picture. “That quote . . . did he really say that? About the bird holding all his secrets?”
    Laurie nodded and scooted over next to Misti on the footstool. “Yeah, but no one knew what he meant. Apparently it was some kind of mechanical bird, but you couldn’t see any of the works, it just looked like smooth metal. But he could make it open its wings and beak and sing and all sorts of stuff.”
    Bud whistled. “That’s pretty cool.”
    â€œYeah, according to this stuff, he was a really good magician. He wasn’t doing kids’ parties or whatever, he headlined big theaters. And the Marchetti Bird was a big part of it. He took it everywhere. And when he was murdered, it disappeared and was never seen again.”
    Misti peered at the picture. “I wish this picture wasn’t so bad. How big was it? No offense, Laurie, but your family needs to get a decent printer.”
    â€œSorry about that. It was pretty big—bigger than a regular bird.” Laurie’s eyes roamed the room to find something to compare it to. “Oh, hey! It looked a lot like . . .”
    Laurie went cold.
    â€œLike what?” Misti elbowed her in the ribs, but Laurie didn’t move.
    â€œLike what, Laurie?” Bud was almost afraid to ask. All the color had drained from Laurie’s face, and she looked like she was going to throw up.
    Without a word, Laurie got up and walked to the cabinet next to the couch. Then she opened the lattice door in the front and stood next to it.
    â€œLike this bird.” She reached inside the cabinet and pulled out a large metal bird. She put it down on the coffee table, and the cold, smooth metal reflected the overhead lights and made it look like it was shimmering. “Holy cow, guys,” Laurie breathed. “I think this is the Marchetti Bird.”
    ----
    What to Do When You Find Proof That the Founder of Your School Is an Evil Murderer
by Laurie Madison, rising seventh grader and future Hamilton Junior High student
    Â Â Â Â Â Â Â  1. Cry.
    Â Â Â Â Â Â Â  2. Turn it over to cops, wash your hands of the whole thing, and become a Hamilton Junior High student.
    Â Â Â Â Â Â Â  3. Cry some more.
    Â Â Â Â Â Â Â  4. Become