The Case of the Poisoned Pig Read online

  “And us.”

  “It wasn’t Gordy, and it wasn’t Mrs. Budge. And it sure wasn’t us. Now what? No one else was there both times . . . except for Ethan.”

  Milo looked at Jazz.

  Jazz looked at Milo.

  “Ethan!” they yelled.

  When he came inside, Jazz asked, “Ethan, are you sure you didn’t give Eugenia anything bad to eat?”

  He shook his head.

  “Nothing at all?”

  “I told you. I just gave her kisses. Huge loves kisses.”

  Milo rolled his eyes. “Ethan—”

  “But they’re all gone now,” his brother went on. “That’s why I brung the bunny. I bet she loves bunnies, too.”

  Wait a minute.

  Bunnies. Kisses.

  And a poisoned pig.

  “Ethan . . . do you mean . . . chocolate kisses?”

  Ethan nodded happily. Then he reached in his pocket and dug out a big handful of crumpled pink and green foil wrappers.

  “From my Easter basket. I let Huge have all my kisses. They’re her favorite.”

  Milo sat on the porch steps watching Ethan and the piglet chase each other around the front yard. Jazz was copying out their letter to Dash Marlowe in invisible ink on a purple pad. They’d told him all about how they had solved the Case of the Poisoned Pig.

  “I still can’t believe your little brother was the poisoner,” she said.

  “He didn’t mean to hurt her. He just wanted to give her the nicest thing he had, and that was chocolate. He loves that pig.”

  Jazz smiled. “I know. But if we hadn’t caught him in time, he might have loved her to death!”

  “You know what I can’t believe?”

  “What?” Jazz said.

  “Ethan gave Eugenia a ton of Easter candy, and he wouldn’t give me any—not one tiny bite. Me, his own brother.”

  Jazz laughed. Then she said, “By the way . . . her name isn’t Eugenia.”

  “It’s not? How come? Did ‘Queenie’ win?”

  “Yuck! No!”

  “Spike? Pigasus?”

  She shook her head. “We picked a new name. Actually, it was Gordy’s idea.”

  “Not Bacon Bits!”

  “Not exactly.” Jazz waved an arm at the pig. “May I present . . . Bitsy.”

  “Bitsy,” Milo said. “That’s a pretty good name for a mini pig. Though she can sure cause mega trouble!”

  “Well, the trouble is all over,” Jazz said. “Ethan won’t give her chocolate anymore. And we don’t have to worry about her getting into Mrs. Budge’s garden.”

  Milo looked at the new fence guarding the freshly replanted flower bed. “I feel so silly for suspecting Mrs. Budge,” he said. “All her talk of taking care of the pig problem. And she just meant putting up a fence!”

  Jazz said, “Yeah, but you—”

  Her next words were drowned out by a roar. A moment later, Dylan’s car nosed slowly down the driveway.

  Grinning, he leaned out the open window. “Hey, kids. Want a ride?”

  “Wow! You got it running!” Milo said.

  “Don’t look so shocked.” He patted the side. “This baby’s going places.”

  As the car eased forward, Bitsy the piglet dashed across the lawn toward the driveway.

  “Dylan!” Jazz yelled. “Watch out!”

  Startled, Dylan swung the steering wheel. The car veered away from Bitsy—and into the new fence. The car stopped with its two front tires planted smack in Mrs. Budge’s flower bed.

  Milo and Jazz stared.

  “Um . . . what was that you said about the trouble being over?” Milo asked.

  Jazz shook her head slowly. Then she said, “You know how Dash says to look for a pattern?”

  “Yeah?”

  “I think I see one now.”

  Milo said, “You mean about how Mrs. Budge’s flowers keep getting smushed?”

  “No,” Jazz said. “I mean about how two things always seem to go together. Trouble . . . and us!”

  By the time Dash wrote back to Milo and Jazz, Mrs. Budge had replanted her flowers. This time she planted them on the other side of her yard.

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Lewis B. Montgomery is the pen name of a writer whose favorite authors include CSL, EBW, and LMM. Those initials are a clue—but there’s another clue, too. Can you figure out their names?

  Besides writing the Milo & Jazz mysteries, LBM enjoys eating spicy Thai noodles and blueberry ice cream, riding a bike, and reading. Not all at the same time, of course. At least, not anymore. But that’s another story. . . .

  ABOUT THE ILLUSTRATOR

  Amy Wummer has illustrated more than 50 children’s books. She uses pencils, watercolors, and ink—but not the invisible kind.

  Amy and her husband, who is also an artist, live in Pennsylvania . . . in a mysterious old house which has a secret hidden room in the basement!