The Purple Fingerprint

  “This should help,” Mr. Drew said. He reached under his jacket and pulled out a big silver magnifying glass. “A good detective never leaves home without it.”

  Nancy smiled at her surprise gift. The magnifying glass would be perfect for seeing small things up close.

  “Thanks, Daddy!” Nancy said. She took the magnifying glass and held it over her fork. It looked as big as a pitchfork!

  “Now,” Hannah said, “will you be eating the Clever Cook’s dish? Or can I interest you in a peanut butter sandwich?”

  Nancy looked at the steaming hot shells bubbling with cheese.

  “Stuffed shells, please.” Nancy sighed. “Oh, Hannah. Why does the Clever Cook have to be so good?”

  After a great dinner, Nancy took her new magnifying glass upstairs to her room. Her chocolate Labrador puppy, Chocolate Chip, lay on the floor while Nancy sat at her desk and studied the note.

  “Hmm,” Nancy said, peering through the glass. “The letters are bigger, but they’re still the same.”

  “Woof!” Chip barked, and jumped onto Nancy’s lap. That made Nancy drop the note on the rug.

  “Chip!” Nancy complained. “Look what you made me do.”

  Nancy reached for the note. It was facing down. Near the corner of the paper was something Nancy hadn’t noticed before—a bright purple smudge.

  Nancy leaned over her bed and looked through her magnifying glass. The purple smudge wasn’t just a smudge.

  “It’s a fingerprint!” Nancy gasped. “A bright purple fingerprint!”

  And a great new clue!

  6

  Jimmy on the Run

  My dad said everyone’s fingerprints are different,” Nancy told Bess and George. “So this one should lead us right to the culprit.”

  It was Wednesday morning. The girls were walking through the hall to their classroom. Nancy carried her new magnifying glass in her backpack.

  “But first,” Nancy went on, “we have to match this fingerprint with our suspects’ fingerprints.”

  “I know a way we can get Jimmy Koombs’s fingerprints,” Bess said. “Just look at one of his finger paintings.”

  “First graders don’t finger paint anymore,” George said.

  “Then let’s hope Jimmy has messy hands,” Nancy said with a sigh.

  The girls walked some more. Then Nancy stopped in front of the lunchroom. Mrs. Carmichael was kneeling under a table and wiping something off the floor.

  “I’ll bet Mrs. Carmichael’s fingerprints are all over the kitchen,” Nancy said. “Too bad we can’t search it.”

  “Who says we can’t?” George said with a sly smile. “Follow me.”

  Nancy’s heart pounded as they sneaked past Mrs. Carmichael into the kitchen.

  “That was close!” Nancy whispered. She looked around the kitchen. On the counter next to a big bowl of flour was a flat slab of dough.

  “It’s probably full of Mrs. Carmichael’s fingerprints,” Nancy said.

  She pulled out her magnifying glass and held it over the dough.

  “Any fingerprints?” George asked.

  “No.” Nancy sighed. “Mrs. Carmichael was probably wearing rubber gloves.”

  “Ooh!” Bess said, leaning over the counter. “This bowl of flour smells yummy. Like sugar and lemons.”

  Bess held the bowl up to her face. She took a giant whiff. Then she threw back her head and began to sneeze.

  “Ah-ah-ah-choooo!”

  Poof! The flour blew out of the bowl and covered the girls’ faces.

  “Yuck!” Nancy said, wiping the white flour from her eyelids.

  “We look like ghosts!” Bess cried.

  Nancy gulped when she saw an angry Mrs. Carmichael standing in the doorway.

  “Good grief!” Mrs. Carmichael cried. “What are you girls doing in my kitchen?”

  “Oh, great,” Nancy groaned under her breath. But she bravely explained everything—the nasty note, the purple marker, and the fingerprint.

  “Let me see that note,” Mrs. Carmichael said.

  Nancy held up the note with the purple fingerprint. She expected Mrs. Carmichael to be mad, but instead she smiled.

  “Look at this,” Mrs. Carmichael said. She held her hand up to the purple fingerprint. “My fingers are much, much bigger than this print.”

  Nancy compared Mrs. Carmichael’s fingers to the fingerprint. They were much bigger.

  “Now check out my purple marker,” Mrs. Carmichael said. She pulled out her marker and drew a line on a paper napkin.

  Nancy compared the two purples. The purple on the napkin was reddish purple. The purple on the note was a bluish purple.

  “They are different,” Nancy admitted. “I guess you didn’t write that note after all, Mrs. Carmichael.”

  “And I never would,” Mrs. Carmichael said. “I had a favorite show when I was a kid, too. It was called the Mr. Funny Bones Show. I used to rush home every day after school to watch it.”

  Nancy felt bad for suspecting Mrs. Carmichael. But she had to follow up on her clues.

  “We’re sorry for sneaking into your kitchen,” Nancy told Mrs. Carmichael.

  “Don’t worry,” Mrs. Carmichael said. “I would have done anything to save Mr. Funny Bones, too.”

  Mrs. Carmichael helped Nancy, Bess, and George clean their faces. Then the girls hurried to their classroom.

  “Now our only suspect is Jimmy Koombs,” Bess said.

  “Let’s search Jimmy’s cubby,” Nancy said. “If he took the picture of Mr. Lizard, he might have stuck it in there.”

  The girls walked down the hall to the first-grade cubbies. They were all empty.

  “The first grade went on a field trip to a cupcake factory,” a second-grade boy told them. “Lucky ducks!”

  Nancy didn’t feel very lucky. She walked with Bess and George to their own cubbies. She was about to put her lunch inside when she saw Brenda.

  “I heard what happened yesterday,” Brenda said with a mean smile. “Thanks to you, the Mr. Lizard show is history.”

  Nancy watched Brenda hold up a notebook with colorful butterflies on the cover.

  “And I’m writing all about it in my newspaper!” Brenda said. She flipped her dark hair over her shoulder and strutted into the classroom.

  “Great,” Nancy groaned. “Now Brenda is going to blame me in the Carlton News!”

  “You mean the Carlton Pe-ews,” George joked.

  “Come on, Nancy,” Bess said. She headed toward the classroom door. “We’ll find Jimmy after school.”

  The day went by quickly. Nancy and her class learned new vocabulary words. In arts and crafts they made collages out of autumn leaves.

  After school Nancy ran home for a snack. Then Hannah gave her permission to walk Chip. Bess and George were waiting outside to join her.

  “Let’s walk Chip straight to Jimmy’s house,” Nancy told her friends.

  Chip stopped to sniff some fallen leaves on the way. When the three friends reached the Koombses’ house Nancy handed Chip’s leash to Bess. Then she rang the doorbell.

  The curtain on the door window shifted slightly. Karen peeked out.

  “Go away!” Karen called out. “We’re having our last fan club meeting. And you’ve caused enough trouble.”

  “But, Karen,” Nancy pleaded. “I have to speak to Jimmy!”

  “The password is NO!” Karen snapped. She let the curtain fall and she was gone.

  “Now we’ll have to wait until tomorrow to talk to Jimmy,” Nancy said.

  “Not exactly,” George whispered. She grinned and pointed over Nancy’s shoulder.

  Nancy whirled around. Jimmy was sneaking around the side of the house.

  A backpack dangled from Jimmy’s shoulder as he made his way to the side-walk. Nancy saw a colorful picture sticking out. The top part of the picture showed a mop of bright red hair.

  “Bess! George!” Nancy cried. “Jimmy has a picture of Mr. Lizard in his backpack. And I’ll bet it’s mine!”
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  7

  Scratch or Catch?

  Stop!” Nancy shouted to Jimmy.

  Jimmy looked over his shoulder at Nancy. But instead of stopping, he began to run. Faster and faster.

  “Let’s get him!” George said.

  All three girls and Chip ran after Jimmy. But Jimmy was way ahead of them.

  “How can such a little boy run so fast?” George asked as they ran.

  “How can a puppy run so fast?” Bess puffed as she ran behind Chip.

  The girls chased Jimmy down the block and around a corner. Nancy could see Chip pulling at her leash. She gave such a hard tug that she yanked the leash from Bess’s hand.

  “Sorry, Nancy!” Bess wailed as Chip charged after Jimmy.

  “Chip—stop!” Nancy shouted.

  Chip caught up with Jimmy. She jumped up and tugged playfully at his backpack with her teeth.

  “Let go!” Jimmy yelped.

  Chip yanked the backpack off Jimmy’s shoulder. It fell to the ground. A bunch of pictures scattered all over the sidewalk!

  “Wow!” George cried as the girls caught up to Jimmy and Chip. “They’re all of Mr. Lizard.”

  “And they’re all messed up,” Bess said, shaking her head.

  Nancy looked down at the pictures. Mr. Lizard’s teeth were blacked out. His eyes were drawn to look crossed.

  But that wasn’t all. Written in red crayon on the bottom of each picture was, “Misstir Lizzerd stinks!”

  “Where did you get all those pictures?” Nancy asked Jimmy.

  “My lips are zipped!” Jimmy said. He pretended to zipper his lips shut.

  Chip wagged her tail. She jumped up on Jimmy and began licking his face.

  “Help!” Jimmy yelled. “I’m drowning in dog spit. Get her off!”

  “Not until you tell us where you got these pictures,” Nancy said.

  “Okay,” Jimmy said. “I took them from my sister’s fan club box. I was going to hang them up all over River Heights.”

  “That’s mean!” Nancy scolded. She gently pulled Chip off Jimmy.

  “And I’ll bet you messed up Nancy’s petition, too!” Bess declared.

  “What are you talking about?” Jimmy asked. “I didn’t even sign that list.”

  Nancy picked up a picture. She studied it closely. Then she waved Bess and George to the side.

  “Jimmy didn’t write the nasty purple message,” Nancy whispered.

  “How do you know?” George asked.

  Nancy pointed to “Misstir Lizzerd stinks.” “Jimmy can’t even spell Mr. Lizard,” she pointed out.

  “Oh, yeah,” Bess said.

  The girls walked back to Jimmy.

  “Promise that you’ll never hang up these pictures, Jimmy,” Nancy said.

  “No way!” Jimmy said angrily.

  “Then I’ll tell Karen,” Nancy said. “And she’ll never let you watch Artie the Aardvark again.”

  “N-no Artie?” Jimmy stammered. He looked at the pictures and sighed. “Okay, okay. Mr. Lizard is history anyway.”

  The words hit Nancy like a ton of bricks. Jimmy was right. The next day was Thursday—Mr. Lizard’s last day.

  And I have no more suspects, Nancy thought sadly. Zero. Zip. Zilch!

  “I feel like a total loser, Daddy,” Nancy told her father during dinner that night. “All my clues led me to the wrong suspects.”

  “Don’t give up, Nancy,” Hannah said as she poured Nancy a glass of milk. “You never do.”

  “Hannah’s right,” Mr. Drew said. “There may be more to your clues than meets the eye.”

  Nancy took a sip of milk. What did her father mean by that?

  When Nancy finished her chicken casserole she excused herself from the table. Chocolate Chip followed Nancy up the stairs to her room.

  “More than meets the eye,” Nancy repeated out loud. She opened her detective notebook. The nasty note fell out on her bed.

  “I’ve looked at this a hundred times, Chip!” Nancy complained. She grabbed her magnifying glass and sighed. “Here goes a hundred and one.”

  Chip grunted softly as Nancy held the magnifying glass over the message. She moved it up and down until the words, “Get rid of Mr. Lizard,” were as big as could be.

  “Now what?” Nancy muttered.

  But when she moved the magnifying glass closer she noticed something else. There were marks on the paper as if someone had written on another piece of paper on top of that one.

  Nancy ran to her desk. She held the paper under her lamp. But she couldn’t tell what the marks were. Words? Pictures? Or just doodles?

  Nancy looked up and saw a box of crayons on her desk. It made her think of an old detective trick that her father had once taught her.

  “That’s it!” Nancy said. She pulled out a dark green crayon. Then she colored lightly over the marks. The paper turned green but the marks stayed white.

  Soon the scratches became letters. And the letters became words.

  “‘The Carlton News by Brenda Carlton,’” Nancy read. She looked up. “Brenda?”

  Suddenly it clicked.

  “Brenda and Molly went to the washroom,” Nancy said excitedly. “The same afternoon the nasty note appeared in my envelope!”

  Chip gave a low growl.

  Nancy wanted to growl, too. Did the nasty message come from Brenda’s butterfly notebook?

  8

  Miss Snooty Pants Strikes Again!

  Brenda Carlton!” George said, shaking her head. “Why didn’t we suspect her before?”

  “Probably because Brenda likes Mr. Lizard,” Nancy said. “And she did sign the petition.”

  It was Thursday morning. Nancy had just shown her friends the scratchy message in the schoolyard.

  “But how could Molly let Brenda do such a mean thing?” Bess asked.

  Nancy decided to ask Molly. They found her by the water fountain.

  “Think back to Tuesday, Molly,” Nancy said. “When you went to the washroom with Brenda—”

  “Brenda never came with me to the washroom,” Molly interrupted. “She said she had to get something from her cubby.”

  “Was Brenda at the cubbies all that time?” Nancy asked Molly.

  Molly shook her head. “Brenda came to the washroom just as I was leaving,” she said. “She had to wash some icky purple stuff off her hands.”

  “Purple?” Bess gasped.

  “Brenda Carlton is guilty!” George declared.

  “Not yet,” Nancy said. “We have to question her—and find that purple pen.”

  Molly tilted her head and smiled. “Is this another mystery?” she asked.

  “Isn’t it always?” Bess giggled.

  The school bell rang. Nancy, Bess, and George headed straight to their cubbies.

  Nancy saw Brenda pushing her backpack into her cubby. She decided to get right to the point.

  “Tell the truth, Brenda,” Nancy said. “Did you switch the nice picture of Mr. Lizard with the nasty note?”

  Brenda straightened up. She looked Nancy in the eye. “Why would I do that?” she asked. “I watch Mr. Lizard, too.”

  “Because you were in the hall when the picture was switched,” George said.

  “May we look inside your pencil case, Brenda?” Nancy asked.

  “No way!” Brenda said. She reached for her backpack. But when she pulled it from her cubby something else slid out. It was a picture of Mr. Lizard with the words “Save Mr. Lizard” on the bottom.

  “It’s my picture!” Nancy declared.

  “I don’t know how it got there,” Brenda blurted. “And if you think I wrote that nasty note—you’re wrong!”

  “Maybe,” Nancy said. She pulled the note from her own backpack and pointed to the purple smudge. “But fingerprints never lie. They’re like snowflakes—all different.”

  “Fingerprints?” Brenda gasped. She hid her hands behind her back.

  “Well, Brenda?” Nancy demanded. “Did you . . . or didn’t you?”

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; Brenda’s eyes narrowed. She heaved a big sigh. Then she pulled a purple marker from her backpack.

  “This was in my pocket when I went to the washroom,” Brenda said. “So was a piece of paper from my notebook.”

  “You planned the whole thing,” George said angrily.

  “Why did you want to hurt Mr. Lizard, Brenda?” Nancy asked.

  “It wasn’t Mr. Lizard I was trying to hurt,” Brenda said. “It was you!”

  “Me?” Nancy asked.

  “I was mad that the fan club gave you a special job,” Brenda explained. “They wouldn’t even let me join.”

  “So you tried to make me look bad?” Nancy asked.

  “I guess,” Brenda said. Her shoulders drooped. “What I did was horrible. But I want to make it up to you. Really!”

  “How?” Nancy asked.

  “Let’s go to the TV station after school,” Brenda suggested. “I’ll apologize. And tell everyone that your petition really said ‘Save Mr. Lizard.’”

  Nancy felt Bess and George pull her aside. They formed a huddle and whispered.

  “How can we trust Brenda, Nancy?” George asked. “She’s lied before.”

  “What if she’s just being Brenda-ish again?” Bess whispered.

  “We have to trust her,” Nancy said. “Today is Mr. Lizard’s last day. There’s no time!”

  The girls walked back to Brenda. “It’s a deal,” Nancy said.

  During the busy school day Nancy was happy she had solved the case. But she would be even happier when Brenda confessed to the TV station.

  After school Hannah agreed to drive Nancy, Bess, and George to station WRIV.

  “I’ll park the car,” Hannah said as the girls stepped out. “Why don’t you meet me inside?”

  “Okay, Hannah,” Nancy said. She turned and saw Brenda standing by her bicycle. Her arms were crossed.

  “What are we waiting for?” Brenda asked. “Let’s save the Mr. Lizard show!”

  The four girls walked through the glass doors.

  “We’d like to see Mr. Lizard, please,” Brenda told the guard.

  “Sure.” The guard smiled. “I’ll bet Mr. Lizard would like to say goodbye to his fans.”

  The guard led the girls to a door. She knocked and whisked them through.