Encyclopedia Brown and the Case of the Soccer Scheme Read online

  Wilford championed the grand old rule. Never stand if you can sit and never sit if you can lie down. While on his back he dreamed up new ways to cheat the little kids out of their piggy-bank savings.

  Last month he was raising money to save the Pony Express. A week ago it was funds for an electric napkin. It lit up so you could see to wipe your mouth in the dark.

  Wilford never got away with his phony get-rich deals, however. Encyclopedia was always there to stop him.

  “You can’t trust Wilford,” Sally advised Danny.

  “That’s why I’m here,” Danny said. “I need you to make sure he’s on the up-and-up this time.”

  “Wilford wouldn’t be on the up-and-up in a ski lift,” Sally said.

  “We’ll take the case,” Encyclopedia said.

  * * *

  Wilford usually held his secret meetings in the city dump. This one was in the dance classroom of the Community Center.

  “The dance class for today was called off,” Danny said to the detectives. “The teacher had to fly to Akron. Wilford gets to use the room because he claimed his talk is educational. It teaches little kids how to invest their money wisely. Lucky for us, this secret meeting isn’t in the city dump again. We won’t go home stinky.”

  The dance classroom at the Community Center was overcrowded with little kids eager to hear Wilford on how to get rich quick.

  Wilford was standing in front of the children, about to offer them his newest can’t-lose moneymaking deal. Beside him stood a thin, pale-faced teenager holding a knapsack.

  “Meet Bruno McCumber,” Wilford announced in the voice of a duke introducing the king of England.

  Bruno bent in a modest bow. Encyclopedia remembered seeing him around town.

  He was usually admiring himself in the nearest mirror.

  “Bruno got home yesterday from the desert where he’d been for three months prospecting for gold,” Wilford said. “He barely had enough water to stay alive. It was hot and rainless. But Bruno, alone day and night, didn’t give up. Thirsty and tired, he kept digging. Finally he struck pay dirt, and here it is. Show ’em, Bruno!”

  Bruno carefully shook a few bright yellow pebbles from his knapsack. He held them for everyone to see.

  “Yeah, yeah, yeah,” a boy cried. “Cut the lip drip and get to it.” Other children joined in, demanding Wilford get to his new moneymaking deal.

  “Those are no ordinary pebbles you see,” Wilford sang. “That’s gold! Bruno discovered the richest gold mine in the state.”

  The children gasped.

  “Men who dig for gold keep their finds a secret,” a boy challenged. “How come you’re telling us?”

  “Glad you asked, friend,” Wilford said. “You don’t use a pick and shovel to mine gold today. Too slow. We must have modern machinery. I’ll be honest with you. All our cash is tied up in African oil wells. So I thought of selling shares to my little pals in Idaville. Help us buy the machinery, and Bruno and I will make you rich beyond imagining.”

  “Don’t leak a word about the mine,” Bruno counseled. “If you do, the grown-ups will move in and grab it all. None of us will get a dime.”

  “Those are no ordinary pebbles you see,” Wilford sang. “That’s gold! Bruno discovered the richest gold mine in the state.”

  “And your dreams won’t come true,” Wilford added. “You won’t be able to buy things for your mom and dad, like a new car or a washing machine.”

  “How much is a share?” a girl hollered.

  “The regular price is twenty dollars,” Wilford said. “For my little pals, I’ll tell you what I’m going to do. I’ll slash the price to two dollars a share. In three years a share will be worth a fortune! The more shares you buy, the sooner you can buy that car or washing machine for your mom and dad.”

  The children chattered excitedly. How long would it take to afford a new car or a washing machine if they bought ten or twenty shares?

  Wilford had them set up for his best line: “Don’t blame me that you’re poor. Blame me for making you rich.”

  That did it. The children lined up to buy shares.

  “Stop them, Encyclopedia,” Sally pleaded. “Don’t let Wilford walk off with their savings.”

  “I won’t,” Encyclopedia assured her. “There is no gold mine.”

  WHY DID ENCYCLOPEDIA SAY THAT?

  (Click here for the solution to “The Case of Wilford’s Big Deal.”)

  The Case of the Ten-Dollar Bike

  Nine-year-old Mitzi Bowser dragged herself into the Brown Detective Agency.

  “Am I a blockhead?” she groaned, and laid a quarter on the gas can. “Yesterday Agatha Grubs talked me into secretly buying a like-new bicycle from her for ten dollars. She said she needed money badly. I paid her five dollars to hold the bike for me, even though I haven’t seen it yet.”

  “You should have been warned about Agatha,” Sally said. “The less you have to do with her the better off you’ll be.”

  Agatha Grubs was twelve, and walked with a heavy step. Little kids got out of her way.

  “I wonder what kind of a bike she’s selling,” Encyclopedia said.

  “Let me guess,” Sally put in. “Agatha said that the wheels hum ‘Happy Days Are Here Again’?”

  Mitzi smiled weakly. “Naw, but Agatha said I’ll love the bike the minute I see it. She promised to hold it for me until noon today. She won’t sell it to someone else before then.”

  Mitzi brooded briefly.

  “Agatha knows I need a bike,” she continued. “If I don’t pay her the rest of the money when I see it, she’ll keep the five dollars for her trouble. Did I get taken!”

  “We’ve got an hour till the noon deadline,” Encyclopedia said. “A visit to the bike is in order.”

  Agatha’s house was three blocks away. She welcomed Mitzi. She fixed the detectives with a look that said, “May a cow fall on your head.”

  “We’re here to see your ten-dollar bike,” Sally announced.

  “The bike is none of your business,” Agatha said coldly.

  “I asked them to come,” Mitzi said.

  “I said you see the bike alone or the sale is off,” Agatha said, “and I keep the five dollars.”

  “I forgot,” Mitzi said meekly.

  “I have nothing more to say,” Agatha growled, “and I’m only going to say it once.”

  Sally clenched her fists. “Show us the bike.”

  “Buzz off,” Agatha said.

  “We better leave,” Encyclopedia told Sally.

  If it came to a showdown, Encyclopedia had no doubt Sally would jab Agatha dizzy. Still, Agatha was no pushover, being built somewhat along the lines of a truck stop.

  The detectives crossed the street. Shielded by a passing car, they ducked behind two empty garbage pails standing at the curb. From there they could see what went on between Agatha and Mitzi.

  Agatha brought from her garage a shiny blue two-wheel bicycle.

  “That must be the bike Agatha’s selling,” Sally said. “Agatha’s mom told my mom about it in the supermarket. It has everything. A basket, lights, water bottle, and a tire pump.”

  From behind the garbage cans the detectives saw Agatha climb on the bike and nothing more. A city truck parked in front of them, blocking their view.

  “Bad luck,” Encyclopedia said. “If we move and Agatha sees us watching, she’ll call off the sale. She’ll have an excuse to keep the bike and Mitzi’s five dollars.”

  The detectives could do nothing but wait.

  After a few minutes, they peeked. It was safe. The demonstration was over. They stepped around the truck. They reached Mitzi as Agatha was walking the bike back into the garage.

  “It’s a beautiful bike,” Sally said to Mitzi.


  “Yeah,” said Mitzi, “except for the pedals.”

  “I don’t understand,” Sally said.

  Mitzi explained. “When the pedal on the left goes forward, the one on the right goes backward—and vice versa. That bike is dangerous! The pedals don’t turn the same way.”

  Agatha had come from of the garage. “I heard what you said, Mitzi. Yesterday I told you straight out the pedals were damaged. If you buy it, you’ll have to bring it to a bicycle shop and have the pedals fixed. I don’t know how much it will cost—probably not more than fifty or sixty dollars.”

  “You told me I could fix the pedals myself!” Mitzi yelped. “Now you tell me it might cost fifty or sixty dollars to fix. I don’t think I can buy the bike.”

  “Fine with me,” Agatha said. “As we agreed, I keep your five dollars if you don’t buy the bike.”

  “Not hardly,” Encyclopedia said.

  WHY NOT?

  (Click here for the solution to “The Case of the Ten-Dollar Bike.”)

  The Case of the Hidden Money

  “That was Lou Warwick on the phone,” Chief Brown said. “I better get right over. A lot of money was stolen from his desk today.”

  Lou was a retired Army veteran. He had become bored with fishing and golfing and muddling around the house. For the past thirteen years he had fixed up old military vehicles for fun and sometimes for profit.

  “Why not take Leroy along?” Mrs. Brown said. “He’s always helped you.”

  “How about it, Leroy? Want to come?” Chief Brown said.

  “Do I!” exclaimed Encyclopedia. Going with his father on a police case was the treat of treats.

  * * *

  Lou was in his specially built garage. It was big enough to house Jeeps, armored cars, a field ambulance, and a Sherman tank. He hailed Chief Brown and Encyclopedia from atop the tank.

  “Wherever did you find it?” Chief Brown said, marveling at the huge machine.

  “At an auction six months ago,” Lou replied. “I had to have it. My wife thought I belonged in a cuckoo nest. We traded off. She could continue collecting Peruvian hairless cats. I could keep the tank.”

  He rapped the tank with the side of his fist. “Moving, it sounds like a train wreck, but it’ll do twenty-five miles an hour going downhill.”

  He hopped to the ground, his expression suddenly serious.

  “The money was stolen from my office,” he said. “I thought I could solve the theft myself. I can’t. I don’t want to accuse anyone without being sure.”

  “Over the phone you said the money was stolen from your desk. Let’s have a look,” Chief Brown said.

  Lou led them into his office.

  “The door from the garage to the office is locked only when the day’s work is done,” Lou said. “The door on the other wall opens to the house. It’s also locked after work.”

  Besides a desk and chair the office had bookshelves, a four-drawer filing cabinet, a watercooler, and a bathroom.

  “Did any stranger enter your office today?” Chief Brown asked.

  “This morning a couple from St. Paul bought an amphibious Jeep to use for exploring and camping,” Lou said. “They paid cash—with hundred-dollar bills and some twenties and fifties. They brought the money in a knapsack. They took the knapsack with them.”

  He paused, arranging the details of the crime in his memory.

  “I’ve always been paid by check,” he resumed. “I had only large manila envelopes in which to carry the cash to the bank. I had shoved in most of the bills when I was called to attend to a customer. I hurried to the garage, leaving the envelopes on my desk. For thirty minutes I was tied up with the customer—a waste. He was just looking. When I got back to the office, the envelopes and the money were gone.”

  “While you were with the customer, did you notice anyone go in and out of the office?” Chief Brown inquired.

  “Yes, all three of my staff did,” Lou said. “First Ed Winslow, then Phil Riggs, then Olga Simpson. They swore they had nothing to do with the theft. I have to believe them. The envelopes are too big to smuggle away unnoticed. The bills are too many to be hidden in the thief’s clothes. I want you to hear what each has to say, Chief. I may have overlooked something.”

  Ed Winslow, the mechanic, had been the first to enter the office. He told Chief Brown, “I had a drink at the watercooler. The manila envelopes were on Lou’s desk with a few bills sticking out. I didn’t touch them.”

  Phil Riggs, who did the body work, was the second to enter the office. He told Chief Brown that after Ed left it, he too had gone for a drink at the watercooler. “The manila envelopes were on the desk,” he said. “I saw a few bills. I didn’t steal anything.”

  Olga Simpson, the last one to go into the office, was a small, white-haired woman. She handled the paperwork. She told Chief Brown she had been in the office to have a drink at the watercooler after Phil. She saw the envelopes and a few bills on the desk. “I left them there,” she insisted.

  Lou shut the office door after her and sank into the desk chair.

  “The thief could have jimmied the locked front door, slipped into the office from the house, stolen the money, and got out the same way,” he said. “But my wife is at home. She would have called out if she heard someone in the house.”

  Encyclopedia didn’t need to hear more. “May I say something, Dad?” he asked.

  “Certainly,” Chief Brown replied.

  “The money is still in the office,” Encyclopedia said.

  “That doesn’t make sense!” objected Lou. “I’ve searched every inch—the cabinet drawers, the desk drawers, the bookshelves, the bathroom, the watercooler stand, everywhere.”

  “Not quite everywhere,” Encyclopedia said. “The money is hidden where no one would think of looking—under the filing cabinet. Olga is the thief. She plans to come back for the money in her own good time.”

  “The filing cabinet is full and weighs too much for anyone to lift,” Lou said. “How can she be the thief?”

  “She counted on your believing she can’t,” Encyclopedia said.

  HOW DID OLGA HIDE THE MONEY?

  (Click here for the solution to “The Case of the Hidden Money.”)

  The Case of Lovely Lana

  Every year the Idaville Pet Fish Club held its show in Mrs. Finley’s backyard. This year the show fell on a day Encyclopedia visited his grandmother.

  Sally attended the Pet Fish Club Show alone. Her friend Ginger Butterworth had entered a fish. Sally didn’t want to hurt Ginger’s feelings by staying away. In her opinion staring at fish was best done during a few moments of spare time.

  She was to learn pet fish could scale the heights of a mystery.

  At the show she saw Ginger was standing by a row of small show tanks set on a bench. Each tank contained a tiny fish.

  “Meet my Lovely Lana,” Ginger said in greeting Sally. She tapped the tank containing a fish two inches long. “Isn’t she beautiful? She’s a killifish.”

  “She doesn’t move,” Sally said. “Is she sick?”

  “No, that’s a good sign, according to Earl Duffy. She’ll do well in the judging. She’s not stressed out like this one.” Ginger indicated the fish cringing on the bottom of the next tank.

  “Wherever did you learn about pet fish?” Sally asked.

  “Earl Duffy taught me,” Ginger said. “He told me what to feed her and how to care for her. He insists I give her Canadian earthworms, which are fat and juicy. Food can make or break a champion, Earl says.”

  Ginger related how she came to own Lovely Lana. She had been strolling through a farmer’s market when she noticed a counter loaded with tanks of small pet fish. Half an hour later she passed the counter again. All the fish but one had been sold.

  “Meet my Lovely L
ana,” Ginger said in greeting Sally. She tapped the tank containing a fish two inches long. “Isn’t she beautiful? She’s a killifish.”

  “I nearly forgot to display this one,” the woman at the counter had said. “It’s a newborn.”

  Earl Duffy, a ninth grader, had stopped to watch.

  “That’s a mighty fine killifish,” he had said to Ginger. “Buy it. I’d buy it myself except I spent all my cash already. Besides, I have a killifish named Prince. I had two other killifish. They were born the same day, lived a long time, and died on the same day. It was sad.”

  He tapped his temples. “I was a beginner and dumb. I left the lid closed on their tank too long, cutting off air. But I studied up. Prince is in shape to win Best in Show at the Pet Fish Club Show this year.”

  Ginger cooed at her killifish. “On Earl’s advice,” she said to Sally, “I bought the killifish and named it Lovely Lana. I told Earl I was going to enter her in the Pet Fish Club Show. At home I put her in a soup bowl before Earl loaned me a handsome glass vase for her. The bottom was a bowl. It rose in a long narrow neck to a small opening at the top. Earl explained the vase was meant for a single flower, but right for a killifish.”

  “Why is that?” Sally asked.

  “Earl said the small opening at the top of the vase will keep Lovely Lana from jumping out,” Ginger answered. “Killifish are pet fish and were known to jump in the air the instant a lid was lifted, killing themselves.”

  Ginger paused to coo again at Lovely Lana which floated like a log. “Am I lucky,” she said. “Oops, Mrs. Finley has started.”

  Mrs. Finley had stepped to the fish tanks. She began the judging.

  “Pet fish are a hobby,” Ginger said in a low voice. “This isn’t about fame and big bucks like a dog show. You can hold and feel dogs. There really isn’t much you can do with a fish. They don’t sit or roll over. They swim or they don’t.”

  Mrs. Finley inspected the fish with a trained eye. She spoke of the good or bad points of each fish. “Sunken belly, sign of bad health.” “Humpback, too old.” “Stressed out,” and so on.