The Case of the Missing Moose Read online

  by Lewis B. Montgomery

  illustrated by Amy Wummer

  The KANE PRESS

  New York

  Text copyright © 2011 by Lewis B. Montgomery

  Illustrations copyright © 2011 by Amy Wummer

  Super Sleuthing Strategies original illustrations copyright © 2011 by Kane Press, Inc.

  Super Sleuthing Strategies original illustrations by Nadia DiMattia

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher. For information regarding permission, contact the publisher through its website: www.kanepress.com.

  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

  Montgomery, Lewis B.

  The case of the missing moose / by Lewis B. Montgomery ; illustrated by Amy Wummer.

  p. cm. — (The Milo & Jazz mysteries ; 6)

  Summary: While Milo and Jazz, detectives-in-training, are at summer camps on the same lake, the mascot built by Milo’s team for the color wars disappears. ISBN 978-1-57565-331-0 (library binding) — ISBN 978-1-57565-322-8 (pbk.) [1. Mystery and detective stories. 2. Camps—Fiction. 3. Competition (Psychology)—Fiction. 4. Lost and found possessions—Fiction.] I. Wummer, Amy, ill. II. Title.

  PZ7.M7682Cam 2011

  [Fic]—dc22

  2010023478

  1 3 5 7 9 10 8 6 4 2

  First published in the United States of America in 2011 by Kane Press, Inc.

  Printed in the United States of America

  WOZ0111

  Book Design: Edward Miller

  The Milo & Jazz Mysteries is a registered trademark of Kane Press, Inc.

  www.kanepress.com

  eISBN: 978-1-5756-5363-1 (pdf)

  eISBN: 978-1-5756-5752-3 (ePub)

  eISBN: 978-1-5756-5666-3 (mobi)

  For the students and staff of

  Kutztown Elementary School

  —L.B.M.

  Milo spotted the sparkly purple envelope as soon as he walked into the camp post office. A note from Jazz!

  Picking it up, he felt a twinge of guilt. He remembered Jazz waving to him from the bus. “Write to me!” she had yelled. Then the bus had pulled out, taking the girls to their own camp across the lake.

  That was three days ago. Since then, Jazz had written him three letters. And he had written . . . zero.

  It wasn’t that he didn’t think of Jazz. But each time he sat down to write to her, something else came up. And the week of camp was going by so fast!

  He tore open the envelope and read:

  Dear Milo,

  I hope you’re having fun. I sure am! Camp is even better than I remembered. The girls in my cabin are all super nice, especially Olivia, my bunkmate. I told you about her, right? She’s new this year, like you. She’s kind of shy, but—

  “Ooh! Look who got a letter from his girlfriend!” A hand reached out to grab the note.

  Milo snatched it away just in time. He glared at the boy in the red baseball cap and fought the urge to pull the cap down over the boy’s smirking face.

  “She’s not my girlfriend, Tony.

  She’s . . .” Milo paused. Jazz wasn’t just a friend. She was Milo’s partner and fellow sleuth. Together, they solved mysteries—with a little help from world-famous private eye Dash Marlowe, who mailed them lessons. Dash had even sent them a detective kit, with special spy glasses, a notebook, and a pair of invisible-ink pens.

  But telling Tony all that wouldn’t do any good. Somehow he’d find a way to make even sleuthing seem silly.

  Milo felt a tug on his arm. It was his bunkmate, Gabe.

  “Come on,” Gabe said. “Let’s get out of here.”

  Milo shoved Jazz’s note into his pocket and followed Gabe out. They headed toward the wide lake that split the boys’ camp from the girls’.

  “What is Tony’s problem?” Milo grumbled.

  “He’s just like that,” Gabe said. “Always giving the new campers a hard time. Don’t let him get to you.”

  Easy for Gabe to say, Milo thought. Tony wasn’t sticking his pointy nose into everything Gabe did.

  Milo had hardly gotten off the bus when Tony started making fun of him. Milo had never been to camp before. How was he supposed to know that the “mess hall” was where they ate? Or that “bug juice” meant cherry punch?

  Except for Tony, camp was great. Milo loved everything: Nature hikes in the woods. Learning to paddle a canoe. Even jumping off the dock into the chilly lake was fun . . . well, sort of.

  And color war was coming up, though no one knew exactly when. Gabe said that the breakout was always a big surprise. But the week was already half over, and—

  “Hey, what’s that?” Gabe pointed.

  Milo looked. Near the water’s edge, something stuck out. It looked like . . . an antler?

  Milo ran toward it. He reached out—

  “NO! DON’T TOUCH IT!” a voice shouted.

  Milo’s feet slid out from under him. Splat!

  He struggled to peel himself up out of the mud.

  A boy from their cabin, Wendell, rushed over clutching a camcorder. “You’ll scare it away!”

  Milo gaped at him. “Scare what away?”

  Wendell flung an arm out at the water. The antler thing had shifted.

  “What do you think?” he exclaimed. “The lake moose!”

  Lake moose?

  “Nobody’s ever seen it come ashore!” Wendell went on. “And nobody has ever captured it on video! I’ll be the first to—”

  “Let me see that.” Gabe squished past him, grabbed the thing sticking out of the water, and yanked it free. He waved it in the air. “Sorry, Wendell. No lake moose.”

  Wendell’s face fell. Then he brightened. “But we found its antlers!”

  “I think it’s just a piece of driftwood,” Gabe said, rubbing off the mud.

  Looking closer, Milo realized Gabe was right. But it really did look like the antlers of a moose.

  Wendell didn’t seem to hear Gabe. Taking the driftwood, he turned it over in his hands. “Where are you, lake moose?” he muttered.

  Clang! The bell rang for dinner. Leaving Wendell gazing out at the lake, Milo and Gabe headed to the mess hall.

  “What does he mean, ‘lake moose’?” Milo asked.

  Gabe shot him a sideways glance. “Nobody told you yet about the giant moose that lives deep in the middle of the lake?”

  Milo shook his head.

  “They say it’s got flippers for feet,” Gabe said, “and teeth just like a shark.” He lowered his voice. “You know what else I heard? Once, years and years ago, two boys went out in a canoe at night . . . and they never came back.”

  Milo swallowed. “You mean . . .”

  Gabe nodded solemnly. “The lake moose got ’em.”

  “You’re kidding, right?” Milo asked. “There isn’t really any such thing as a lake moose . . . is there?”

  His friend shrugged. “Maybe not. Still, I’ve never heard of anyone paddling all the way across the lake.”

  “Has anybody actually seen it?”

  “Some of the older boys say they did. But I think they’re making it up.”

  Had Jazz heard about the lake moose? Milo wondered. He pictured her eyebrow going up. Jazz really didn’t believe in spooky stuff like that.

  Neither do I! he reminded himself quickly. Still . . .

  Gabe went into the mess hall. Milo hosed the mud off his hands and knees, but his T-shirt was a lost cause.

  Inside, he joined the dinner line and read the rest of Jazz’s note.
>
  . . . She’s new this year, like you. She’s kind of shy, but nice. She’s got a brother who sounds just as bad as Chris!

  Milo grinned. Jazz always complained about her three older siblings. She should try living with a little brother, he thought. Actually, he almost missed Ethan. . . .

  See you at the bus on Saturday!

  Write back! —J

  It felt funny knowing Jazz was right across the lake, but not getting to see or talk to her. At least he’d made a friend in his cabin. He headed over to join Gabe.

  As he passed the table where Tony sat with his cabin mates, Tony called to him. “Hey! Want to hear a dirty joke?”

  Before he could answer, Tony pointed at Milo’s muddy shirt. “It’s—you!”

  Tony and his friends guffawed.

  Milo’s face grew hot. He turned away. Why couldn’t Tony just leave him alone?

  While the campers ate their dinner, the head counselor, Dan, stood to speak. Milo half listened as Dan went on about water safety and talking after lights-out.

  Suddenly Milo noticed an odd tapping sound. He looked down the table. Frankie, his own counselor, was drumming with his fork and knife.

  Dan raised his voice.

  Frankie started making beatbox sounds. Puh-ch. Puh-puh-ch. Tsss—

  Snickers rose around the mess hall. Milo tried to catch Gabe’s eye. What in the world was Frankie doing? Counselors didn’t act this way.

  Dan stopped mid-sentence. “Frankie!”

  “Yeah?”

  Folding his arms, Dan asked grimly, “Am I boring you?”

  Milo waited for Frankie to apologize. Instead, his counselor nodded. “Yeah. You’re boring everybody.”

  Gasps flew around the mess hall.

  Storming over, Dan shouted, “Take it back!”

  Frankie stood up. “Make me.”

  Dan scowled. His gaze darted around. It landed on a plastic ketchup bottle.

  “You wouldn’t,” Frankie said.

  Dan smiled. “Wouldn’t I?”

  Then he picked up the ketchup bottle, aimed, and squeezed.

  A hush fell over the hall. Milo stared at his counselor. Wow! Frankie was a mess!

  Frankie stared down at himself, too. He looked at Dan. He looked at the table. Then, in one swift move, he grabbed his plate and dumped his meal over Dan’s head.

  Dan shook his head like an angry lion. Bits of food flew off. “You know what this means?” he roared. “This means— This means—”

  Milo held his breath. He liked Frankie. What was going to happen next?

  “This means . . . WAR!”

  Suddenly, pandemonium broke out. All the counselors yelled, “Color war!” and flung red and blue papers into the air. Smiling now, Dan and Frankie gave each other a high five. Campers laughed and shouted, grabbing at the sheets of paper as they fluttered down.

  Milo snatched a paper from the floor and read: ALL ABOUT COLOR WAR. There were three cabins on each team. Milo and Gabe’s cabin was on the blue team. Tony’s cabin was on the red.

  He skimmed over the list of events. Flag football, relay races, tug-of-war . . . Color war was going to be great!

  Someone bumped into him hard, nearly knocking him down.

  It was Tony.

  “Feeling blue yet?” Tony taunted. “You will soon! Red team is gonna stomp all over you!”

  Whirling his cap over his head, Tony ran off.

  Milo wondered what Tony would have done if he’d ended up on the blue team. He wore that red cap every day. He probably even wore it to bed.

  Back at the cabin, all anyone could talk about was color war. Everyone loved the surprise breakout, though a few boys who had been at camp before swore they knew Frankie and Dan were faking all along.

  Frankie passed out blue T-shirts.

  “Okay, guys, listen up,” he told them. “The final event of color war will be the bonfire two nights from now.”

  “The bonfire is awesome!” Gabe whispered to Milo.

  Frankie went on, “For the bonfire, each team needs to come up with three things—a cheer, a mascot, and a flag. These count for major points. Our cabin gets to make the blue team’s mascot—”

  An excited buzz went up.

  “Grizzly bear!” a boy yelled out.

  Gabe shook his head. “The red team did that last year.”

  Another boy said, “Something blue?”

  “Blue jay!”

  “Nah.”

  Milo glanced across the cabin. Wendell was sitting on his cot filming the driftwood “antlers” with his camcorder. He didn’t seem to notice what was going on around him.

  “It should be fierce,” somebody said. “To scare the other team.”

  Hmm. Fierce and scary, Milo thought. His glance landed on Wendell again.

  Hey!

  He jumped up. “How about a moose? The lake moose?”

  Gabe caught on right away. “Yeah! We could use those antlers—”

  “Antlers?” Frankie asked.

  Milo pointed. “That driftwood. Doesn’t it look a lot like moose antlers? We found it at the lake.”

  All eyes turned to Wendell’s cot.

  Wendell glanced up. “Huh?”

  Patiently, Gabe explained their plan.

  “Use the lake moose for a mascot?” Wendell looked horrified. “What if it finds out?”

  The other boys burst out laughing.

  “Come on, Wendell!”

  “Don’t be such a goof.”

  Wendell gazed around the cabin. Finally he shrugged. “Okay. Fine.”

  Gabe clapped Milo on the shoulder. “This will be the greatest mascot ever!”

  As the rest of his cabin mates cheered, Milo’s eyes met Wendell’s.

  Wendell did not look happy.

  Not happy at all.

  At breakfast, the blue team sat on one side of the mess hall. The red team sat on the other.

  “You all know that winning events will help your team,” Dan told them. “But you can gain or lose points other ways, too. By being good or bad sports. Being on time, or late—”

  “And neatness counts,” Frankie put in.

  “So let’s see which side of this mess hall can get cleaned up fas—”

  Scraping benches drowned him out as the two teams rushed to clear their tables. Color war was on!

  Milo’s first event was a swim race. As he swam out to the marker, his mind flashed to the lake moose. Teeth just like a shark . . .

  Tagging the marker, he turned back. Just then, something brushed against his toes.

  Heart racing, he put on a burst of speed. He was gasping for breath as he reached the dock. Gabe stuck out a hand to haul him up. “Third place! All right!”

  Milo glanced back out at the lake. Nothing. His foot had just touched a floating weed or something . . . right?

  The boys changed out of their wet swim trunks, then ran to the big field for flag football. Milo fumbled a pass, but Gabe picked up the ball and scored a touchdown for a blue team win.

  After lunch, Milo and his cabin mates stopped at the arts-and-crafts hut. Loaded down with moose-making supplies, they rushed back to the cabin and got to work.

  Only Wendell didn’t seem excited. Twice, Milo saw him shooting glances at his camcorder. Still, Wendell pitched in with the others.

  When the bell rang, the boys groaned.

  “Can’t we be a little late to dinner?” Milo begged. “We’re almost done.”

  To their amazement, Frankie brought them their food from the mess hall. It was pizza night, and they all munched happily as they worked.

  Milo paused to admire the moose. Its pasteboard teeth were perfect—sharp and scary. Its flippers were a little floppy, but not too bad. And the antlers . . . wow!

  No way could the red team ever come up with anything as cool as this. He couldn’t wait to see their faces at the bonfire tomorrow night.

  The boys finished just before dusk. They left their moose to dry and hurried out to the big field for the
sunset relays.

  For the first relay, they lined up and passed a dripping sponge over their heads, racing to get it to the end of the line. Soon they were all soaked and laughing.

  Next came the three-legged race, then a race with paper plates of shaving cream balanced on their heads.

  The “hen race” was the silliest of all. They waddled with a raw egg between their knees, then “laid” it in a box and squawked.

  Milo’s team wasn’t doing very well. But he was having so much fun, he didn’t mind. The only thing that spoiled it was Tony. He took every chance to bump into Milo or try to trip him. In the balloon race, he even popped Milo’s balloon.

  “Hey!” Milo protested.

  Sneering, Tony stuck his pointy nose right in Milo’s face. “What are you going to do about it, blue boy?”

  Milo wished he could think of a crushing comeback, the way Jazz would. Instead, he just turned away.

  When the relay races ended, the boys straggled off to bed, tired but happy.

  As they came up to their cabin, Gabe slung an arm across Milo’s shoulder. “Man, you looked great laying that egg. Sure you’re not a chicken?”

  Milo pushed open the screen door and flipped the light on. “Very fun—”

  His grin froze as he stared at the empty space in the middle of the cabin.

  The lake moose was gone.

  The boys crowded into the cabin.

  “Oh, no!”

  “I don’t believe it!”

  “How—?”

  Frankie came in. They clustered around him, all shouting at once.

  Their counselor shook his head. “Okay, guys. I’m going to tell Dan.”

  He walked out.

  Milo sat down. His head whirled. What had happened to their mascot?

  It was up to him to find the answer. After all, he was a detective, wasn’t he? But he had never tackled a case without Jazz before. . . .