Judy Moody, Girl Detective (2 page)

“Oh,” said Stink. He did not sound one teeny bit scared. He sounded a teeny bit bored.

“But Nancy Drew mysteries
do
have stuff like exploding oranges and flaming rockets and spooky old mansions. Lots of mansions. And they are all haunted, and one time Nancy Drew almost gets crushed when the ceiling falls on her. Another time she’s chased by a phantom horse. She even gets strangled by a giant python. No lie.”

“Exploding pythons are cool,” said Stink, getting mixed up. “Can I look at one of your Nancy Drews?”

“Over there.” Judy pointed to a pile of stuff on her desk. “Under my sock monkey.”

Stink lifted up the sock monkey. “Under your sock monkey is a pillow.”

“Under the pillow,” Judy told him.

Stink lifted the pillow. “Under your pillow is nothing but a big fat dictionary.”

“Under the dictionary.”

Stink lifted up the dictionary. “It’s a mystery just trying to find your Nancy Drew book.” Under the dictionary was Nancy Drew book #43:
The Mystery of the 99 Steps.
“Why’s it under all this stuff ?”

“Well, um . . . don’t laugh, but —”

“Ha! Ju-dy is scare-dy!” Stink chimed. “You hid it under here because it’s
scary.
You’re scared of a Nancy Drew nightmare!”

“Can I help it if I have an overachieving imagination?” asked Judy. “I double-dare
you
to read it.
In the dark.
”

Stink shivered.

“See, Nancy’s friend has this weird dream about these creepy ninety-nine steps, so Nancy goes to France to try to find them and solve the mystery of her friend’s dream. It’s spine-chilling. Says so right on the back. Books don’t lie, Stink.”

“Maybe you’ll have a bad dream from reading the book. Then
I
can go to France to solve the mystery of your bad dream . . . and see the Eiffel Tower.”

“The Eiffel Tower is
so
beside the point, Stink. But you just gave me a genius idea. I’m going to solve a mystery. A real-life, Nancy-Drew, scare-your-pants-off mystery. For sure and absolute positive.”

“What’s the mystery?”

“I don’t know yet. I have to find one first.”

“Do you have to go to France to find it?”

“Stink, you don’t have to leave the country to find a mystery. There could be one right in your own backyard.”

Stink looked out the window into the yard. “All I see out there is your purple jump rope, a pink-and-white soccer ball, your bike with the flat tire, and the blue tent we use for the Toad Pee Club. The only mystery is why Mom and Dad don’t make you pick up your stuff.”

“Ha, ha. Very funny. A mystery is out there, Stink. Maybe not in the backyard exactly. But it could be right under our noses. All we have to do is pay attention.”

Just like that, she, Judy Moody, went looking for a mystery.

If a person were going to solve a big fat mystery, she had to have a way-official Nancy Drew detective kit.

Flashlight? Check.

Notebook? Check.

Grouchy pencil? Check.

Pocket magnifying glass? Check.

Duck tape? Check.

Zip-top bag? Check.

“Let’s see,” Judy said out loud to herself. “All I need now is a disguise, some money, and a French dictionary.”

She went into the upstairs bathroom and came back with Mom’s makeup bag. Judy pulled out a tube of red lipstick, a compact, an eyebrow pencil, nail polish, tweezers, and a bobby pin.

“Ooh, cool,” said Stink, coming into her room. “Is all this stuff for a disguise?”

“Stink, don’t you know anything about detective work? Everybody knows lipstick is for writing SOS messages.”

“Oh, I get it. Like if something exploded and your leg is pinned under a piece of metal, and you go to yell ‘help’ in French, but you lost your French dictionary, you write
SOS
in red lipstick or something?”

“Or something,” said Judy. “Lipstick is good for fake blood, too. Like one time, Nancy Drew smeared lipstick and pretended she was bleeding to trick the bad guys so she could escape. There are tons of bad guys, like Snorky, Stumpy, Sniggs, and Grumper.”

Stink snorted. “They sound like dwarves, not bad guys.”

“And in
The Phantom of Pine Hill,
there’s an evil fortune-teller named Madame Tarantella.”

“Madame Tarantula. Cool. Can I try writing in lipstick?” Stink asked.

“It’s only for emergencies, Stink,” said Judy.

“What about all that other junk?” Stink asked.

“The powder in the compact can be used to dust for fingerprints, and the little mirror is for spying on somebody. The eyebrow pencil is for this.” Judy drew a quick mustache on Stink.

“Hey!” said Stink, but instead of wiping his lip, he looked in the mirror.

Judy held up a little black metal hair clip. “Rule Number One: Never leave home without a bobby pin.”

“What’s a bobby pin?” Stink asked.

“This baby is for picking locks.”

“Can I try?”

“Knock yourself out,” Judy said, handing him a bobby pin. Judy loaded all the detective stuff into her backpack.

Stink picked up Judy’s secret diary, stuck the bobby pin in the keyhole, and turned it. The diary popped open.

“Sweet!” said Stink. “It really works.”

Judy looked up. “Give it!” she said, grabbing the diary back.

“You sure Nancy Drew doesn’t have a little brother? Little brothers make good detectives, too.”

“I’m sure. Just a dad named Mr. Drew; her two best chums, George and Bess; her dog, Togo; her cat, Snowball; and a shiny blue, way-cool convertible!”

“Nancy Drew is old enough to drive a real car?”

“Tell me about it. Who wouldn’t want to ride around in a convertible solving mysteries all day?” Judy said. “Makeup? Check. There. I’m done!”

“What about the money? Where’s the money? You forgot the money!”

“N-no, I didn’t.”

Stink peered into Judy’s backpack and pulled out a plastic bag full of coins. “Not my state quarters. And my president dollars! I collected these forever.”

“C’mon, Stinker. If I get locked in an attic or a closet or the trunk of a car, I’ve gotta have some money to bribe the bad guys to let me out.”

“Just pick the lock with your bobby pin thingie,” said Stink. Judy shot him a sourball stare.

“Fine!” Stink sorted through his coins. “Here. You can have my American Samoa quarter. Because I don’t know where that is.”

“One lousy quarter? That’s not going to get me un-kidnapped.”

“Okay! My Martin Van Buren president dollar. But only because he’s not James Madison. And because I don’t know who he is.”

“Gee, thanks, Stinkerbell.”

“Is it time to go find the mystery now?” asked Stink.

“Almost,” said Judy. “I’m hungry. I need a snack. Rule Number One of being a good detective is never solve a mystery on an empty stomach.”

“I thought Rule Number One was the bobby pin thing.”

“Do you have to listen to everything I say? Stink, turn around so you can’t see where I hid my candy.” Stink had found the candy hidden in her sock drawer. Stink had found the candy hidden in her doctor kit. Stink had found the candy hidden in her five hundred–piece puzzle of the Tower of London. But no way would he find the candy hidden in her double-secret, triple-tricky hiding place.

Stink turned around. He covered his eyes.

“Cover your ears, too,” said Judy.

“I only have two hands.”

“Try not to listen, then.” Judy took out her Build-a-Moose that she had made at the mall with Grandma Lou last Christmas. Judy had filled his tummy with a bag of gummy candy instead of stuffing. She reached inside and pulled out . . . an old striped sock?

“Stink!” said Judy. “You’ll never believe what I found.”

Stink turned back around and looked. “A sock?” He tried to sound fake-surprised.

“Not just a sock,” said Judy. “A sock
and
a mystery. Right here in our own backyard.”

Stink did not say a word. Stink stared at the floor.

“A real-life, honest-to-jeepers, Nancy-Drew-who-doesn’t-have-any-brothers mystery.” Judy waved the sock in the air.

“The Mystery of the Missing Sock?” Stink asked.

“More like the Case of the Stolen Candy,” said Judy. “I hid a bag of gummy candy in my moose’s tummy. But now the candy’s not there. Presto-change-o gonzo, just like that.”