Edgar Allan's Official Crime Investigation Notebook by Mary Amato Page A

through the classroom.
    â€œYou’re not supposed to make an accusation unless you have proof,” Patrick said.
    â€œI know.” Edgar smiled. “May I continue?”
    Mr. Crew crossed his arms. “Go right ahead.”
    Edgar nodded. “The first theft occurred on Tuesday, October 2. That’s the same day we began our poetry unit. You said, ‘how lucky’ because you could use the metaphor of the poem left by the thief to teach us about metaphor. Well, you stole the goldfish and left that note for a ‘good reason’, didn’t you, Mr. Crew? It was to get us interested in poetry.”
    â€œWhat a fascinating idea!”
    â€œYou love poetry, and you wanted to teach us that every poem is like a little mystery that is waiting to besolved. So you created little mysteries for us to try to get our attention. You snuck into Ms. Herschel’s room when she went out for coffee. The third time, Ms. Herschel locked her door, so you asked Mr. Browning to unlock it for you. You told him that you needed to borrow her calculator, didn’t you? The fourth time, you saw Patrick and his dad installing the video device, so you waited until they were gone, then you asked Mr. Browning to unlock the door again—so you could return the calculator, you said. And you snuck in, careful not to be filmed. You stole a goldfish, an iris, a fan, and some tea. What do all those things have in common? Well, the goldfish was a gift from Maia to the class, the iris was a gift from you to Ms. Herschel, the fan was a gift from a Spanish student to Ms. Herschel, and the tea was supposed to be a gift to you. They are all gifts. And if you take the first letter of each of those objects you get ‘g-i-f-t.’ ”
    Edgar pointed to the message that Mr. Crew had painted on the wall.
    A POEM IS A GIFT.
    Mr. Crew smiled. “Well. You have quite a theory. But I still don’t see the proof.”
    Edgar walked over to Mr. Crew’s closet and opened the door. With a flourish, he removed a sweatshirt that was blocking the front of the middle shelf. One by one Edgar set the stolen objects on Mr. Crew’s desk: the silk iris, the lovely black and red fan, and the box of tea.
    A pair of black gloves came next. “I believe you wore these gloves to prevent your fingerprints from being leftat the scene of the crimes,” Edgar said. Then he held out the final evidence: an empty goldfish bowl and a net. “You didn’t want to hurt Slurpy, so you transferred the fish to another tank in this bowl. Am I right?”
    Edgar’s classmates stared at the empty bowl.
    Mr. Crew clapped. “Bravo! You have done it! I am the thief!”
    The class erupted.
    â€œWhere is Slurpy?” Maia asked.
    â€œSafe and sound in Ms. Barrett’s tank,” Mr. Crew said. “Excellent detective work and a very cool idea to put on the play.”
    â€œThat was Destiny’s idea,” Edgar said.
    â€œBut Edgar is the one who solved the mystery,” Destiny said.
    â€œWell done, Edgar.”
    Everyone clapped. Edgar looked around. It was as if he were onstage and the spotlight was shining right on him.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

    â€œEdgar, would you and your fellow actors like to get Slurpy and return everything to Ms. Herschel?” Mr. Crew asked.
    Edgar nodded eagerly. He, Taz, and Destiny raced to the kindergarten room. Being the only ones in the hallway made them feel important.
    â€œWell, I guess my fish-sitting days are over,” Ms. Barrett said.
    She helped the trio put some aquarium water in Mr. Crew’s empty fish bowl and then let Edgar scoop Slurpy out of the tank and drop him into the bowl.
    â€œSlurpy and the other fish were very compatible,” she said. “Why don’t you take along another fish to keep Slurpy company?”
    Edgar, Taz, and Destiny thought that was a great idea and chose a gold fish with red-tipped fins named Fred.
    When they arrived at