The Case of the Fire Alarm (7 page)

“She’s telling the truth!” I tell Mom. I
know
Jillian is telling the truth. I can smell it and I can see it. That means she didn’t pull the fire alarm!

So, if Zack didn’t pull it, and Jillian didn’t pull it, that only leaves Michael.
Or a ghost.

While I’m thinking about that, I hear footsteps in the hallway. But they’re not walking footsteps, they’re
running
footsteps!

The door to Mom’s office bangs open, and Mrs. Argus rushes in. “You’ve got to help me!” she cries. “One of my students is missing!”

Mom stands up. “What do you mean one of your students is missing?” she asks.

“It’s Zack Goodman,” Mrs. Argus says. “He signed out to go to the bathroom, but he never came back. I just took the rest of my class to music, and I checked the bathroom on my way back. He’s not in there. I don’t know where he could be.”

Zack is missing?

“Don’t worry. We’ll find him,” Mom says. “Show me which bathroom you checked.”

Mom doesn’t tell me to stay, so I get up and follow her and Mrs. Argus down the hall. I pick up a lot of different scents, but none of them are Zack’s.

We round a corner and Mrs. Argus says, “This is the bathroom he should have gone to when he signed out.”

Mom knocks on the door. “Hello?” she calls. “Is anyone in there?”

We walk in. There’s no one in here.

I sniff the stalls, the floor, the sink. I don’t think Zack has been here at all today.

“Have you checked the other bathrooms in the school?” Mom asks Mrs. Argus.

“I checked the other one on this floor, but I didn’t check the ones upstairs or downstairs,” Mrs. Argus says.

“Let’s check those, too,” Mom says.

I walk with her and Mrs. Argus to the stairs. Mom and Mrs. Argus turn to go up, but I smell something in the other direction. I think it could be Zack.

“Let’s go this way,” I tell Mom.

“This way, Buddy,” Mom calls me.

“No,
this
way,” I insist. I start down the stairs.

“I thought you said this dog wasn’t going to be running around loose anymore,” Mrs. Argus says. “We don’t have time to worry about your dog. We have to find Zack!”

“I think maybe Buddy knows something we don’t,” Mom says. “Let’s see where he wants to go.”

Mom follows me down the stairs. Mrs. Argus sighs and follows Mom. But I can tell by the sound of her footsteps that she’s not happy about it.

“I’m pretty sure this is Zack’s scent I’m picking up,” I tell them over my shoulder.

Now I’m in the basement.

All that’s down here is an empty gymnasium and a wall of storage closets.

The scent ends at the closets. Hmm. I’m confused.

I smell basketballs, soccer balls, and jump ropes. But I also smell Zack!

There’s pounding coming from inside the middle closet. And a voice: “Let me out! Let me out!”

“Good boy, Buddy,” Mom says, patting my side.

Mrs. Argus bends down in front of the closet. “Zack?” she says to the closed door, “is that you?”

“Yes,” a small voice replies.

I scratch at the door, but it doesn’t open.

Mom goes into the gym and picks up a phone on the wall. “Would you send Mr. Poe to the storage closets outside the gym, please?” she says into the phone. “Tell him to bring his keys.”

We wait a little while, and then I see the man who smells like cleaning stuff lumbering down the stairs. It’s the same man who wouldn’t let anyone back inside the school when the fire alarm went off.

“What’s going on?” the man asks Mom and Mrs. Argus. This must be Mr. Poe.

“One of my first-graders is locked inside this closet,” Mrs. Argus says, wringing her hands together.

Mr. Poe frowns at the closet. “How did that happen?” he asks.

Well, there’s a lock on the outside of the closet, so I don’t think Zack locked himself in there.
Someone else must have locked him in.

But who would do such a thing? And why? Whoever it was, I bet it was a human, not a ghost.

Mr. Poe pulls a large key ring out of his pocket. He sorts through the keys, then sticks one inside the lock on the closet.

The door swings open. And there, stuffed inside the closet with jump ropes, orange cones, and dirty balls, is Zack.

“Oh, my,” Mrs. Argus says as she helps Zack out of the closet and closes the door.

Zack’s cheeks are red, and his hair is damp. Water dribbles down his cheeks.

“How did you end up inside the storage closet, Zack?” Mom asks in a soft voice.

Zack sniffs. He doesn’t answer.

“Thank you for unlocking the closet,” Mom says to Mr. Poe. Then she turns to Zack and Mrs. Argus. “I know you have to get back to your class, Mrs. Argus. But Zack? I’d like you to come to my office. We’ll get you cleaned up and get you a drink of water. Then maybe we can talk about what happened.”

Zack swallows hard. I don’t think he wants to talk about what happened.

“I’m glad we found you, Zack,” Mrs. Argus says, patting his back. “I was worried about you.” She glances at me, and I think she might even pet me. Or at least tell me I’m a good dog. But she just turns and walks away.

Oh, well.

Mr. Poe closes the closet. Mom, Zack, and Mrs. Argus all head back upstairs.

I sniff around the outside of the closet. Besides Zack’s scent, I smell bananas, sweat socks, pencils, dirt, hamburger—wait a minute! I think the bananas, sweat socks, and dirt scent belongs to one person. And the hamburger, pencils, and dirt scent belongs to a different person.

I’ve smelled these people before. Where?

“Come on, Buddy,” Mom calls from the other end of the hallway.

“I’m coming,” I say, hurrying to catch up with Mom and Zack.

It’s just us in Mom’s office. Mom, Zack, and me.

Mom sits beside Zack rather than at her desk. “Who locked you in that closet, Zack?” she asks softly.

Zack just stares at his feet.

“Are you afraid to tell me?” Mom asks.

Again no answer.

“Yes,” I tell Mom with my eyes. “He’s
very
afraid.” I can smell the fear all over him. In fact, that’s why I’m talking to Mom with my eyes instead of my mouth. This boy is so scared that I’m afraid to talk with my mouth.

I go over to him and lick his hand.
What are you so afraid of? You can tell Mom who locked you in that closet.

“Is someone at school giving you a hard time?” Mom asks.

Zack still doesn’t answer, but I watch the way his mouth twitches. “I think the answer is yes,” I tell Mom.

“Are you afraid that if you tell me who’s giving you a hard time, things will only get worse for you?” Mom asks.

Zack’s bottom lip twitches again. “That’s another yes,” I tell Mom.

Mom sighs. “I can’t help you if you won’t talk to me, honey,” she says.

He may not be talking with his mouth, but he’s still talking. And I’m
trying
to translate for Mom. She’s just not getting the message.

What else could I do to help? I could go into all the classrooms and sniff around. Eventually, I’d find the kid who smells like bananas, sweat socks, and dirt. And the kid who smells like hamburger, pencils, and dirt.

But I’m not supposed to wander around the school. I’m supposed to stay in Mom’s office. Can I figure out who locked Zack in the closet without leaving Mom’s office? I don’t know.

I wish I could remember where else I’ve smelled those scents before. I think and I think and I think ... but it’s not coming to me.

Maybe it would help to make a list of things I know and things I don’t know about the Case of the Kid in the Closet.

Here is what I know:

Zack left his classroom to go to the bathroom.

Someone has been giving Zack a hard time.

Somebody—more than one somebody—locked him in the storage closet.

Zack knows who did it.