The Case of the Stinky Socks by Lewis B. Montgomery Page A

“You’re solving a mystery, but you don’t know what it is?”
    Milo explained about Dash Marlowe and his detective lessons.
    â€œSo now I have to come up with a real case to solve. But so far, I’m not having any luck.” He shook his head. “I’ll bet there hasn’t been a missing diamond or a stolen code in this whole town today.”
    â€œYou need to let people know you’re a detective,” Jazz said. “Advertise.”
    â€œYou mean, like on TV?” Milo pictured himself bellowing into the camera like Crazy Larry, the car dealer.
    Jazz laughed. “I was thinking more like putting up signs. That’s what my sister did when she wanted a babysitting job.”
    Signs. That made sense.
    Milo followed Jazz into her house. She got out some paper and a purple glitter pen. They sat down at the kitchen table.
    â€œSo, what do you want to say?” she asked.“I don’t know. . . . ‘Call me if you have a case’?”
    Jazz shook her head. “It needs to be catchier. Something people will remember.”
    He thought. “How about, ‘Milo can solve any case, even if it’s from outer space’?”
    Â 

    She giggled. Then she said, “Hang on. I’ve got it! ‘Milo and Jazz, private eyes. Mysteries of any size.’”
    Milo and Jazz? What did she mean, ‘and Jazz’? “Hey, wait a minute—”
    She kept right on talking as if she didn’t hear him. “Give us a shout—we’ll figure it out!”
    Suddenly they heard someone shouting.

Jazz ran up the stairs, with Milo close behind. They followed the yells to an open door.
    â€œGone! Gone,
gone,
GONE!”
    Milo peeked in the room. Whoa. His mom thought
his
room was messy. She should see this.
    Drawers hung open. Clothes trailed from the closet. A laundry basket lay on its side, dirty laundry spilling everywhere.
    Â 

    At first Milo couldn’t see anyone in the mess. Then he spotted two long legs poking out from under the bed.
    â€œDylan, what’s wrong?” Jazz asked.
    The legs wriggled backward, and a teenage boy stood up. He wore a blue T-shirt that said
Westview Wildcats
in gold. He looked upset. “My lucky socks!” he said. “They’re gone!”
    Milo looked around the room. There were socks all over the place.
    Jazz must have noticed them too. “Are you
sure
they’re gone?”

    Her brother nodded. “I’ve looked everywhere.”
    â€œWhere did you last see the socks?” asked Milo. His mom always asked that when he lost something.
    â€œIn my locker,” Dylan said. “I always keep them in my locker between games.”
    â€œThen why were you looking here?”
    Dylan shrugged. “Just in case I brought them home by mistake.”
    Jazz looked at him. “If you never bring them home, how do they get washed?”
    â€œThey don’t.”
    â€œDylan, that’s disgusting!” Jazz said.
    â€œI was wearing them when I pitched a no-hitter in the first game of the season,” her brother protested. “I don’t want to wash away the luck.”
    â€œDon’t they smell bad?” Milo asked.
    â€œThey stink! That’s how I noticed they were gone. My locker stopped smelling so rotten.” Dylan glowered. “When I catch the creep who stole them—”
    Stole
them? Milo’s ears perked up. Could this be his first case? He pulled out his notebook.
    Jazz said, “Who would steal your stinky socks?”

    â€œI think it was an eagle,” Dylan said.
    â€œAn eagle?” Milo pictured a bird with sharp talons swooping down to snatch the socks away.
    â€œThe Eggleston Eagles,” said Dylan. “While I was at practice, someone on their team must have sneaked into our locker room and nabbed my lucky socks.”
    â€œWhy?” asked Milo.
    â€œThe Eagles and the Wildcats are big, big rivals. We’ve got a game