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

against them coming up, and they’d do anything to make us lose.”
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    â€œHow would they know about your socks?” Milo asked. “They couldn’t actually smell them on the field. . . . Could they?”
    Dylan sighed. “Everybody knows. The local Z station sent a camera crew to last week’s game, and I shot off my big mouth about my winning streak. Told them with my lucky socks, we couldn’t lose.” He slumped down on his bed.
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    Jazz asked, “Did you check with your teammates? Maybe someone took them by mistake.”
    â€œI asked everybody. Even Coach.”
    â€œDoes anyone else use the boys’ locker room after school?” she said.
    Dylan shrugged. “The swim team, I guess. And the tennis players. And the fencing club. And track and field. . . . ”
    â€œThat’s a lot of people,” Jazz said. “Anybody could have walked off with your socks.”
    â€œBut why would anyone from
our
school want to wreck my lucky streak? We’re on the same side!”
    â€œMaybe someone’s mad at you,” Milo suggested. He was getting tired of Jazz asking all the questions. Who was the super sleuth around here, anyway? “Have you got any enemies?” he asked.

    Dylan frowned. “I don’t think so.”
    â€œThen maybe it’s an international sock-napping gang. Was there a ransom note?”
    Dylan shook his head. “I’m sure it was an Eagle.” He sank onto his unmade bed. “Friday’s the big game. Without my lucky socks, we’ll never win.”
    Friday! That was the day after tomorrow.
    As they headed back downstairs, Jazz said, “So I think we should start at the scene of the crime.”
    Milo looked at her. “What do you mean,
we?”
    â€œThey’re
my
brother’s missing socks,” she said. “Besides, every detective needs a partner, right?”
    A partner? Um . . .
    â€œAnyway,” she said, not waiting for an answer, “I’ve got a plan. What I think is—”
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    â€œI already have a plan,” Milo cut in. Who was in charge of this case, anyway?
    â€œReally?” asked Jazz. “What?”
    â€œTomorrow afternoon I’m going over to the high school.”
    Jazz lifted an eyebrow. “And?”
    â€œAnd . . .” Okay, maybe it wasn’t a plan exactly. “And then I’ll look for clues.”
    â€œLike what?”
    How was he supposed to know before he looked? “Maybe someone saw an Eagle in the locker room.”
    â€œHow would they know?”
    â€œWhat do you mean?”
    â€œHow would they know it was an Eagle?”
    He shrugged. “Maybe he had on his uniform.”
    Jazz snorted. “Right. If I wanted to sneak into a locker room and steal stuff from a rival team, I would definitely wear my uniform.”
    He had to admit that she was thinking logically. Dash Marlowe would approve.
    â€œOkay. What’s
your
brilliant plan, then?”
    She smiled. “Are we partners?”

    Milo considered. On the one hand, they
were
her brother’s socks. And Jazz did seem pretty smart. But he didn’t like her know-it-all attitude. And besides, what kind of private eye wore purple flowered clogs?
    â€œWe’d make a fantastic team,” she said. “I’ll be the brains, and you can be the . . . uh . . .” She frowned. “Well, I’m sure you can help.”
    Humph. That settled it. “I don’t need a partner,” he told her. “I’m going to solve this case all by myself.”

“Ethan, do you have to be such a slowpoke?” Milo grumbled. Why did his mom pick today to make him babysit his brother?
    â€œYou’d be slow, too, if you had a ten-ton tail,” Ethan told him.
    Milo rolled his eyes. He bet Dash Marlowe wouldn’t solve so many cases if he had to drag along a little kid who thought he was a dinosaur.
    When they reached the high