Masterpiece

M
ASTERPIECE

Elise Broach

illustrated by
Kelly Murphy

Apart from the historical figures and events, the characters and situations
portrayed in this book are fictional. Any resemblance to real persons,
living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.

Henry Holt and Company, LLC
Publishers since 1866
175 Fifth Avenue
New York, New York 10010
www.HenryHoltKids.com

Henry Holt® is a registered trademark of Henry Holt and Company, LLC.
Text copyright © 2008 by Elise Broach
Illustrations copyright © 2008 by Kelly Murphy
All rights reserved.
Distributed in Canada by H. B. Fenn and Company Ltd.

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Broach, Elise.
Masterpiece / Elise Broach; illustrated by Kelly Murphy.—1st ed.
p. cm.
Summary: After Marvin, a beetle, makes a miniature drawing as an
eleventh birthday gift for James, a human with whom he shares a house,
the two new friends work together to help recover a Dürer drawing stolen
from the Metropolitan Museum of Art.
ISBN-13: 978-0-8050-8270-8 / ISBN-10: 0-8050-8270-0
[1. Artists—Fiction. 2. Beetles—Fiction. 3. Human-animal
relationships—Fiction. 4. Art thefts—Fiction. 5. Family life—
New York (State)—New York—Fiction. 6. Dürer, Albrecht, 1471–1528—
Fiction. 7. New York (N.Y.)—Fiction. 8. Mystery and
detective stories.] I. Murphy, Kelly, ill. II. Title.
PZ7.B78083Mas 2008     [Fic]—dc22     2007046938

First edition—2008
Designed by Laurent Linn
Printed in the United States of America on acid-free paper.∞

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For Zoe, Harry, and Grace

Also by
Elise Broach

Shakespeare’s Secret

Desert Crossing

“Nobody sees a flower really; it is so small.
We haven’t time, and to see takes time—
like to have a friend takes time
.”
—Georgia O’Keeffe

H
ome, for Marvin’s family, was a damp corner of the cupboard beneath the kitchen sink. Here, a leaking pipe had softened the plaster and caused it to crumble away. Just behind the wall, Marvin’s family had hollowed out three spacious rooms, and, as his parents often remarked, it was a perfect location. It was warm, because of the hot-water pipes embedded in the wall; moist, to make burrowing easy; and dark and musty, like all the other homes the family had lived in. Best of all, the white plastic wastebasket that loomed on one side offered a constant litter of apple cores, bread crumbs, onion skins, and candy wrappers, making the cupboard an ideal foraging ground.

Marvin and his relatives were beetles. They had shiny black shells, six legs, and excellent night vision. They were medium-sized, as beetles go, not much bigger than a raisin. But they were very agile: good at climbing walls, scurrying across countertops, and slipping under closed
doors. They lived in the large apartment of a human family, the Pompadays, in New York City.

One morning, Marvin awoke to find the household in an uproar. Usually the first sounds of the day were the gentle rustlings of his parents in the next room and, in the distance, the clank of pots in the Pompaday kitchen sink. But today he heard the frantic clicking of Mrs. Pompaday’s high heels, and her voice, anxious and shrill. Just as he was beginning to wonder what had happened, his mother came looking for him in a great hurry.

“Marvin!” she cried. “Come quickly, darling! We have an emergency.”

Marvin crawled out of the soft cotton ball that was his bed and, still only half-awake, followed her into the living room. There, his father, his uncle Albert, and his cousin Elaine were deep in conversation. Elaine ran to him and grabbed one of his legs.

“Mrs. Pompaday has lost her contact lens! Down the bathroom sink! And since you’re the only one who knows how to swim, we need
you
to fish it out!”

Marvin drew back in surprise, but his cousin continued happily. “Oh! What if you drown?”

Marvin was not nearly as thrilled at this prospect as Elaine. “I won’t drown,” he said firmly. “I’m a good swimmer.”

He’d practiced swimming for almost a month now, in an old juice bottle cap filled with water. He was the only member of his entire family who could swim, a skill his parents both marveled at and took credit for.

“Marvin has exceptional coordination, such fine control over his legs,” Mama often remarked. “It reminds me of my days in the ballet.”

“When he sets his mind to something, there’s no stopping him,” Papa would add smugly. “He’s a chip off the old block.”

But right now, these words were little comfort to Marvin. Swimming in a bottle cap was one thing—it was half an inch deep. Swimming inside a drainpipe was something else altogether. He paced the room nervously.

Mama was talking to Uncle Albert, looking mad. “Well, I should think not!” she exclaimed. “He’s just a child. I say let the Pompadays call a plumber.”

Papa shook his head. “It’s too risky. If a plumber goes poking around in there, he’ll see that the wall is rotting away. He’ll say they need to replace it, and that’ll be the end of Albert and Edith’s home.”