Who Broke Lincoln's Thumb? (3 page)

“But they left the ladders there when they took their break,” KC insisted. “They wouldn't have seen her climb them!”

“I vote for Max and Joker,” Marshall
said. “They wouldn't even need a ladder. Max could stand on Joker's shoulders to get at the thumb.”

“Maybe it wasn't Fiona or those Frisbee guys,” KC said suddenly. “Look down there by the Reflecting Pool.”

Marsh looked. He saw a bunch of tourists taking pictures of a man on stilts. The man was dressed as Abraham Lincoln in a black top hat and a beard.

“So?” Marshall said. “He's around a lot. He charges a dollar to take his picture.”

“I know,” KC said. “I saw him here earlier, too. But check out the stilts, Marsh.”

Marshall looked, then gulped. The stilts were as red as a fire engine.

Marshall and KC sat on the steps and stared at the man on the red stilts. “Are you thinking what I'm thinking?” KC asked.

Marshall nodded. “Yup. That guy wouldn't have to climb on anything to get to Lincoln's hand!” he said.

“Yeah, he could reach up with one of his stilts and smack the thumb off,” KC said. “The red paint on the stilt could have left that mark I saw.”

KC skipped down the steps and Marshall followed her. She handed her camera to her friend and pulled a dollar
bill from a wallet in her pack.

“Take my picture with him,” KC whispered as they approached the man.

“Why?” he asked.

“You'll see,” KC said mysteriously.

KC and Marshall walked over to the man on stilts. He glanced down at them. “Want a picture with Honest Abe?” he asked.

“Yes, I do!” KC said. She posed between the stilts, hoping the man didn't notice as she pulled her Swiss Army knife from her pack.

Marshall backed up so he could get KC and the man in the picture. “Okay, one, two, three, say pizza!” he said.

As Marshall snapped the picture, KC scraped a tiny curl of red paint from one of the stilts. She slipped the knife and
paint sample into a pocket. Then she handed up the dollar bill.

“Thanks, kids,” the man on stilts said.

“Thank you, too!” KC said.

More people approached the man on stilts as KC and Marshall walked away.

“Okay, I saw that,” Marshall said. “Why did you steal a piece of his stilt?”

“I wanted a sample of that red paint,” KC said. “And I got it! Now we can see if it's the same as the red mark on Lincoln's hand.”

“Okay, but what about the red nail polish and the red Frisbee?” Marshall said. “How are you gonna get those samples?”

“I'm not sure,” KC said. She looked at her watch. “Gosh, we only have four hours to get the thumb back!”

“Less than that,” Marshall said. “Even
if we find the thumb, it'll take some time to attach it to Lincoln's hand again.” He giggled. “I wonder if superglue would work.”

“Funny,” KC said. “Come on, let's hit the bookstore first.”

KC and Marshall raced back up the stone steps. Ralphie and Stub and their ladders were gone. The two black cars were gone, too. The yellow crime-scene tape was still wrapped around the columns.

In the corner to the right of the Lincoln statue was a small bookstore. KC and Marshall walked in and looked around. A few people wandered among the rows of books.

KC bumped Marshall's shoulder. “There she is!” she whispered.

Fiona was sitting on a stool behind the counter. Her book,
Ten Ways to Get Rich Fast
, was opened and she was reading.

KC marched over to the counter. “Hi,” she said. “I was wondering if you could do me a favor.”

Fiona looked up. She recognized KC and Marshall. “Like what?” she asked.

“I want to get my mom a gift, and I think she'd like your nail polish,” KC said. “Could I see it again?”

Fiona held up her hands, wiggling her ten red fingernails. “It's called Racy Red,” she said. “Would you like me to paint one of your nails so you can show it to your mom?”

“Great, thanks!” KC said, holding out her left hand. “How about doing my thumb?”

“Thumb it is,” Fiona said. She pulled out the bottle and unscrewed the top.

KC watched as her thumbnail became Racy Red.

“It takes a few minutes to dry,” Fiona said. “Don't touch anything or it'll smear.”

“Thanks a lot!” KC said. Waving her thumb in the air, she yanked Marshall toward the exit.

“Now we have two samples,” KC said.

“Pretty sneaky,” Marshall said. “But those two Frisbee guys won't be as easy!”

“We'll think of something,” KC said, checking her watch again.

The day had turned warmer. Hundreds of people were sitting on the lawn, lunching and enjoying the sun. As KC and Marshall walked, they kept their eyes peeled for Joker and Max.

They spotted a lot of men with Frisbees, but none had a bright yellow buzz cut.

When they reached the Washington Monument, Marshall suddenly stopped. “Wait a minute, I just thought of something!” he said.

“Tell me,” KC said, glancing at her watch.

“One of the guys playing Frisbee was wearing a sweatshirt with GEORGE WASHINGTON UNIVERSITY printed on the front!” he said.

“You're right!” KC said. “He said he had to go study for a French test, so he must be a student. Maybe we can find them on campus!”

She and Marshall raced toward Constitution Avenue. KC waved at a taxi and the driver pulled over. The kids jumped in the back. “Do you know how to get to George Washington University?” KC asked the driver.

“I sure do. My girlfriend goes there,” the young driver said. “The campus is over on G Street.”

He zoomed back into traffic.

“How are we supposed to find them?”
Marshall asked KC. “There are probably thousands of students there!”

The driver glanced into his rearview mirror. “Who are you looking for?” he asked.

“Their names are Max and Joker,” KC explained. “Joker is tall and he has bright yellow hair.”

The driver shook his head. “Tell you what. I'll drop you off at the office for student housing,” he said. “They might know these guys.”

A few minutes later, the driver guided his cab through two brick columns. On one was a plaque reading GEORGE WASHINGTON UNIVERSITY.

The driver stopped in front of a small white building. KC paid the fare and gave him a tip.

As the cab sped away, KC checked her watch. “We have three and a half hours,” she said.

They hurried up to the shiny black door. In the center was a small sign that said STUDENT HOUSING OFFICE. PLEASE COME IN.

KC stopped and looked at Marshall. “We don't know their last names,” she said. “How will we ever find them?”

“We know they're Max and Joker,” Marshall said. “Maybe that'll be enough.”

KC shook her head. “This is a big school,” she said. She began pacing.

“Wait a minute,” Marshall said. “I saw J.K. written on their Frisbee. Maybe Joker is a nickname and his real name is something else!”

KC stared at Marshall. She closed her
eyes. “Joker.… Jo … ker,” she mumbled. Her eyes popped open. “Maybe his name is Joe Kerr!”

“It's worth a try,” Marshall said.

He opened the door and they walked into an office. Three workers sat at computers, typing and talking into headsets.

One man noticed KC and Marshall and looked up from his keyboard. “Can I help you?” he asked.

“We're looking for two students,” KC said. “Their names are Max and Joker, but Joker might be a nickname. His real name could be Joe Kerr.”

“He has yellow hair in a buzz cut,” Marshall added. “And they're roommates.”

The man typed something, clicked the mouse, then smiled. “Yes, Maxwell
Perkins and Joseph Kerr. They share a room at Jefferson Hall.”

He pulled a map from a pile on the counter and drew circles around two buildings.

“You're here,” he said, pointing to one of the circles. “Take this path to Jefferson. It's two minutes away.”

The kids thanked him and followed the map. Jefferson Hall was a brick building shaded by trees. A guy reading on the front steps knew Max and Joker. “They live in room 10, in the back,” he said, moving so they could get to the front door.

They walked down a dim hallway. Most of the doors were open, so KC and Marshall could see students sleeping or studying. Music was playing in some of the rooms.

Room 10 was the last one on the hallway. There was no music, but KC heard snoring. She crept up to the door and peeked into the room.

A fan sat on a bureau, making a low hum. Joker lay sprawled on his bed with an arm covering his eyes. A French book rested on his stomach.

Max was snoring on the other bed. His hands were crossed over his chest. And beneath those big hands lay the red Frisbee.

KC backed away from the door.

“Now what?” Marshall whispered.

“We have to get that Frisbee!” KC hissed right back.

“Well, I'm not waking him up,” Marshall said.

They stood outside the door listening
to Max's snoring and the whirring of the fan.

Suddenly KC grinned. She tiptoed into the room, walked over to the fan, and switched it to HIGH. Then she turned the fan so it was aimed right at Max's face.

At first, Max didn't do anything. Then suddenly he sprang up like a jack-in-the-box.

KC and Marshall dropped to the floor. KC held her breath. Her heart was beating so fast she was sure Max could hear it! But nothing happened, so she peeked up over the edge of Max's bed.

With his eyes still closed, Max was pulling a blanket over his legs. The Frisbee rolled onto the floor.

KC snatched it up and dashed out
of the room. Marshall was inches behind her.

KC stopped halfway down the hall. She had a big grin on her face.

“KC, you just stole that guy's Frisbee!” Marshall said.

“I didn't steal it!” KC said, fumbling inside her backpack. “I just borrowed it for a minute.”

The Frisbee was old and battered. The edges had been ripped and cracked from smacking into things. KC peeled off a tiny piece of the red plastic and put it into her pack.

Then she walked quickly back to the room and left the Frisbee on the floor just inside the door. Max and Joker were still sleeping.

Marshall followed KC outside. The
man on the steps looked up. “Did you find them?” he asked.

“Yeah, but they were asleep, so we didn't disturb them,” KC said. She and Marshall hurried away from Jefferson Hall.

At the street, KC waved for a cab. A green one pulled up, and KC yanked open the rear door.

“Take us to the White House as fast as you can!” she yelled.

“You two are awesome!” the President of the United States said.

KC and Marshall blushed.

Yvonne, the president's maid, was preparing sandwiches and lemonade for lunch.

The kids had returned to the White House and rushed into the president's private kitchen. They quickly told the president and KC's mom about meeting Max and Joker, Fiona, and the man on red stilts.

On the kitchen table, three tiny red items lay on a paper towel.

One was a curl of red paint from the wooden stilt.

The second was the tiny piece of plastic KC had peeled from the Frisbee.

The third item was a clipping from KC's thumbnail painted Racy Red.

“How did you manage to get these?” KC's mom asked.

Before KC could answer, Mary Kincaid, the vice president, stuck her head through the door. “Ms. Pierce is here,” she told the president.

“Thanks, Mary. Please show her in,” the president said.

A moment later, a tall woman entered the kitchen. She wore blue coveralls with FBI printed on the back.

“Thank you for coming so quickly,” the president said. He introduced Lois and
the kids to Ms. Pierce, a scientist with the FBI.