Chapter 1
Our Toughest Case
It reads “Theodore Jones” on my birth certificate. But, please, do me a favor. Don’t call me that. My real name is Jigsaw.
Jigsaw Jones.
The way I see it, people should be able to make up their own names. After all, we’re the ones who are stuck with them all our lives. Right? I get it. Our parents had to call us something when we were little—like “Biff” or “Rocko” or “Hey You!” But by age six, we should be allowed to name ourselves.
So I did. I took Jigsaw and tossed “Theodore” into the dumpster. These days, only two people call me Theodore. My mother, when she’s unhappy. And my classmate Bobby Solofsky, when he wants to be annoying. Which is pretty much all the time. Bobby is a pain in my neck. Let me put it this way. Have you ever stepped on a Lego with your bare feet? There you are, cozy and sleepy, shuffling down the hallway in your pajamas, when suddenly—YOWZA!—you feel a stabbing pain in your foot.
What happened?
The Lego happened, that’s what.
In my world, that Lego is named Bobby Solofsky.
And I’m the foot that stepped on it.
So, please, call me Jigsaw. After all, it’s the name on the card.
Mila is my partner and my best friend on the planet. I trust her 100 percent. Together, we make a pretty good team. We solve mysteries: lost bicycles, creepy scarecrows, surprise visitors from outer space, you name it. Put a dollar in our pockets, and we’ll solve the case. Sometimes we do it for free.
But the Hat Burglar had us stumped.
We were baffled, bewildered, and bamboozled. There was a thief in our school, and I couldn’t catch him. Or her. Because you never know about thieves. It could be anybody—he, she, or even it. That’s true. It happens. We once caught a ferret red-handed. Or red-footed. Or red-pawed. Whatever! Point is, the ferret did it. But in this case, no matter what Mila and I tried, nothing worked. The mystery stayed a mystery. It was our toughest case yet. And by the end, the solution very nearly broke my heart.
But let me back up a bit. It all began last week, on a frosty Tuesday afternoon …
Chapter 2
Frozen
It was the coldest day of the year. Three degrees below zero. In other words, it felt like the planet Hoth from Star Wars. Or Canada, maybe. Even worse, there wasn’t a single snowflake on the ground. Just cold wind and frozen skies. It was so nasty my dog, Rags, didn’t want to go outside. And Rags lives for going outside. That morning, he stood by the open door, cold wind blasting his nose, and whined. “Sorry, Rags,” my father insisted. “I don’t like it any more than you do. But we gotta go.”
Rags put on the brakes.
Eventually, my father talked Rags into it. I think he promised a treat. Looking outside, I felt the same way. I didn’t want to leave my toasty house, either. But when my mother said, “Time for the bus, Jigsaw, no dillydallying,” I had no choice.
My mother lets me dilly. And she lets me dally. But I can never dillydally. That’s going too far. Not when there’s a bus to catch.
At the bus stop, several kids stood together like a bunch of Popsicles in a freezer. I knew that two of them were Mila and Joey Pignattano, but it was hard to tell who was who. Almost everyone was bundled in thick winter clothes, hats pulled down to their eyeballs. “Murfle, murfle,” somebody mumbled to me through a wool scarf. I murfled back.
The wind snarled as if it were a snaggletoothed wolf.
Once the bus dropped us at school, we headed for our classrooms. Geetha Nair walked into room 201, dressed in a long colorful scarf wrapped around (and around!) her neck and face. The only part of her head that showed through were two round, chocolate-brown eyes.
Helen Zuckerman burst through the door. “I can’t feel my nose,” she announced. “It’s frozen solid. I could snap it off like an icicle.”
Joey poked Helen’s nose with a finger. “Yipes, you’re right, Helen. It’s colder than ice cream.”
Bigs Maloney, in contrast, strolled in wearing shorts and a long-sleeve shirt. “No coat, Bigs?” Ms. Gleason asked.
“It’s in my backpack,” he explained. “Just in case.”
“Bigs, it’s below zero outside. When are you going to put on a pair of long pants?” Helen wondered.
The big lug shrugged. “I like shorts better. They let my knees breathe.”
“I wish it would snow,” curly haired Lucy Hiller muttered. “I don’t mind the cold if there’s snow. Then we could go sledding … or build snow forts … or—”
“Make snow pies!” Joey cried.
“What?” Mila swung her backpack around with one hand. It landed softly at the bottom of her cubby. “Seriously, Joey. Snow pies?”
“Yes,” Joey replied. “Snow pies are delicious. Only one ingredient: fresh, white, delicious snow. Yum!”
Stringbean Noonan gasped and pointed at Mila’s hands. “Look, it’s so cold your fingers turned purple!”
Mila laughed. She wiggled her fingers. “It’s only nail polish, Stringbean. I had them done at the mall with Geetha and my stepmom this weekend.”
“Phew!” said Stringbean. He seemed relieved.
Athena Lorenzo staggered into the room. “My hair. It was wet when I left my house. Now it’s frozen solid!”
“Oh, Athena. Don’t you have a hat?” Ms. Gleason asked.
“I used to,” Athena said. “I think I lost it in school yesterday.”
“Well, that’s a problem,” Ms. Gleason said. “Hats keep heads warm. It’s important protection in this weather. Athena, do you know where we keep our Lost and Found?”
Athena shrugged. “I guess I lost that, too.”
Ms. Gleason looked at me. I gave her a nod to let her know that I knew. “Jigsaw, could you please accompany Athena to the Lost and Found?”
“I can do it!” Bobby Solofsky volunteered. He pushed to the front of the room. “Let me take her, Ms. Gleason.”
“Oh, that’s very kind of you, Bobby,” Ms. Gleason replied. “I’ll think of you next time. For now, Jigsaw and Athena should get moving.”
She turned to us. “Skedaddle, you two. Good luck finding your hat, Athena!”
“But!” Bobby protested.
“Next time, Bobby,” Ms. Gleason said. There was ice water in her voice.
Text copyright © 2019 by James Preller
Illustrations copyright © 2019 by R. W. Alley
