CHAPTER ONE
“W HAT DO YOU want to do today?” Dawn Bosco asked.
“I don’t know.” Jill Simon shook her head. The green plaid bows on her four braids shook too.
Dawn squinched her eyes almost shut. She peered out the screen door. “I have to find a mystery before school starts next week. Just one little—”
Dawn’s grandmother put a bowl of grapes on the table. “I know what we’re going to do today,” Noni said. She pointed to the street.
A car was stopping in front of the house.
Jill leaned forward. “Is that Arno? Arno Eliot and his mother?”
“I don’t believe it,” Dawn said. “What’s that kid doing here?”
They had met Arno and his mother at the beach two weeks ago.
Noni and Mrs. Eliot were friends now.
Too bad.
Arno had to be the worst six-year-old kid in the world.
Dawn jammed her Polka Dot Private Eye hat down over her eyes.
She and Jill made gagging noises.
“Ssh,” said Noni. “Here they come.”
Arno was hopping up the path in front of his mother.
He had a yellow knapsack over his shoulders. The straps were flying all over the place.
Arno had long skinny legs.
He had big fat knees.
He had a button that said:
I CAN SPELL . . . ALMOST.
Arno’s mother looked worn out.
Anyone would be worn out if she had to take care of Arno, Dawn thought.
“Now, listen, girls,” Noni whispered. “Don’t make a fuss. Mrs. Eliot has to work. She needs a baby-sitter for Arno.”
Dawn wiggled her nose. She made an anteater face. “I’m not going to baby-sit that—”
“Of course not,” said Noni. “I am. I’m going to watch Arno all week.” She smiled at Dawn. “And you can help.”
Arno reached the top step.
He gave the screen door a kick.
“Open up,” he yelled.
Dawn shuddered. She pushed open the door.
Behind Arno came Mrs. Eliot.
She was carrying about a hundred games and toys.
She dumped them on the floor. “Games that make you think,” she said. “Arno always wins. He likes to think.”
Dawn looked at one of the games.
She hoped she didn’t have to play with him.
She didn’t want to be beaten by a six-year-old boy.
“I like to spell too.” Arno pointed at Dawn. “B-g n-s.” He laughed. “Big nose.”
“Almost right,” said his mother. “Very good.”
Dawn wiggled her nose again. She tried to make it look smaller.
Jill was grinning.
Arno pointed at Jill. “U-t-u,” he said. “You too.”
Dawn and Jill looked at each other. “Some kid,” said Dawn.
“Bye, Arno,” said his mother. She waved her hand.
She looked glad to go.
Arno didn’t even notice she was leaving.
He was headed for the stairs.
“What’s up there?” he asked.
“My bedroom,” said Dawn. “It’s private. Keep out.”
Noni clicked her tongue at Dawn. “Let’s be n-i-c-e,” she spelled.
Arno looked back. “Let’s be nuts?” he asked.
Dawn tried not to laugh.
She and Jill followed him up the stairs.
He stopped short at Dawn’s bedroom door. “Just what I thought. Girl’s stuff. Junk.”
Dawn started to shut the door.
“Never mind,” he said. “I’ll take a look anyway.”
“Look doesn’t mean touch,” she said.
Arno got down on the floor. His head disappeared under the bed . . . and then his shoulders.
“Get out of there,” Dawn said.
He backed out again. “What’s this?” He was dragging a polka dot box.
“It’s a private eye box,” said Dawn. “It has lots of stuff to solve crime.”
Arno looked interested. He tried to open it.
“Locked,” said Dawn. “The key is around my neck.”
He held his hand out. “How about—”
“No.” Dawn shook her head. She shoved the box under the bed again.
Arno stood up. “I bet you couldn’t solve a crime.”
“I solved one two weeks ago. Remember?”
“Bet a nickel you can’t solve another one,” said Arno.
“Don’t bother.”
“I’m rich,” said Arno. “I can bet a dollar. Two dollars.”
Dawn narrowed her eyes. “If I had a mystery to solve, I’d do
“W HAT DO YOU want to do today?” Dawn Bosco asked.
“I don’t know.” Jill Simon shook her head. The green plaid bows on her four braids shook too.
Dawn squinched her eyes almost shut. She peered out the screen door. “I have to find a mystery before school starts next week. Just one little—”
Dawn’s grandmother put a bowl of grapes on the table. “I know what we’re going to do today,” Noni said. She pointed to the street.
A car was stopping in front of the house.
Jill leaned forward. “Is that Arno? Arno Eliot and his mother?”
“I don’t believe it,” Dawn said. “What’s that kid doing here?”
They had met Arno and his mother at the beach two weeks ago.
Noni and Mrs. Eliot were friends now.
Too bad.
Arno had to be the worst six-year-old kid in the world.
Dawn jammed her Polka Dot Private Eye hat down over her eyes.
She and Jill made gagging noises.
“Ssh,” said Noni. “Here they come.”
Arno was hopping up the path in front of his mother.
He had a yellow knapsack over his shoulders. The straps were flying all over the place.
Arno had long skinny legs.
He had big fat knees.
He had a button that said:
I CAN SPELL . . . ALMOST.
Arno’s mother looked worn out.
Anyone would be worn out if she had to take care of Arno, Dawn thought.
“Now, listen, girls,” Noni whispered. “Don’t make a fuss. Mrs. Eliot has to work. She needs a baby-sitter for Arno.”
Dawn wiggled her nose. She made an anteater face. “I’m not going to baby-sit that—”
“Of course not,” said Noni. “I am. I’m going to watch Arno all week.” She smiled at Dawn. “And you can help.”
Arno reached the top step.
He gave the screen door a kick.
“Open up,” he yelled.
Dawn shuddered. She pushed open the door.
Behind Arno came Mrs. Eliot.
She was carrying about a hundred games and toys.
She dumped them on the floor. “Games that make you think,” she said. “Arno always wins. He likes to think.”
Dawn looked at one of the games.
She hoped she didn’t have to play with him.
She didn’t want to be beaten by a six-year-old boy.
“I like to spell too.” Arno pointed at Dawn. “B-g n-s.” He laughed. “Big nose.”
“Almost right,” said his mother. “Very good.”
Dawn wiggled her nose again. She tried to make it look smaller.
Jill was grinning.
Arno pointed at Jill. “U-t-u,” he said. “You too.”
Dawn and Jill looked at each other. “Some kid,” said Dawn.
“Bye, Arno,” said his mother. She waved her hand.
She looked glad to go.
Arno didn’t even notice she was leaving.
He was headed for the stairs.
“What’s up there?” he asked.
“My bedroom,” said Dawn. “It’s private. Keep out.”
Noni clicked her tongue at Dawn. “Let’s be n-i-c-e,” she spelled.
Arno looked back. “Let’s be nuts?” he asked.
Dawn tried not to laugh.
She and Jill followed him up the stairs.
He stopped short at Dawn’s bedroom door. “Just what I thought. Girl’s stuff. Junk.”
Dawn started to shut the door.
“Never mind,” he said. “I’ll take a look anyway.”
“Look doesn’t mean touch,” she said.
Arno got down on the floor. His head disappeared under the bed . . . and then his shoulders.
“Get out of there,” Dawn said.
He backed out again. “What’s this?” He was dragging a polka dot box.
“It’s a private eye box,” said Dawn. “It has lots of stuff to solve crime.”
Arno looked interested. He tried to open it.
“Locked,” said Dawn. “The key is around my neck.”
He held his hand out. “How about—”
“No.” Dawn shook her head. She shoved the box under the bed again.
Arno stood up. “I bet you couldn’t solve a crime.”
“I solved one two weeks ago. Remember?”
“Bet a nickel you can’t solve another one,” said Arno.
“Don’t bother.”
“I’m rich,” said Arno. “I can bet a dollar. Two dollars.”
Dawn narrowed her eyes. “If I had a mystery to solve, I’d do
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