Sydnie, Age 12
My mother had wept. My father had yelled.
“When I grow up, I’m going to be an investigator!” I had said. I had been six years old at the time.
They never had been happy about my decision… They tried to persuade me to become something else.
“ Viola, must you become an investigator?” sobbed my mother. They didn’t believe I had the potential, or they were scared. Scared I would get hurt, or scared they would never see me again. But the world needed me, and I was going to follow my dream and become an investigator… I didn’t care what anyone said.
She called on Thursday.
“There has been a robbery at my mansion,” She had said.
“No, nothing…” Came my answer.
“Have you called the police?”
“Yes, they’re working on it.”
“ I haven’t checked.” She replied, as she stood. She returned an hour later, with a large camera.
“I watched all of the footage from last night. There has been quite an interesting clip.” she said, as she pulled up a video.
“One of my guests left early.” She explained, as the clip ran. A man exited the mansion, pulling the sides of his coat tightly against his chest, as if he kept something in his coat; not just a normal everyday item, as if he were keeping valuable items tightly shut.
“Suspicious.” I said. “Who is that?”
“ Abel Johnson. He left early, claiming he needed to be home. Suppose he was lying?”
“Suppose he was. He can be put on the suspect list,” I said, scribbling down ABEL JOHNSON under the word SUSPECTS on my notepad.
“I’ll contact the police to search Abel’s house. Address?” I asked.
“5802 Yew Ave, Zip code 63842.”
“Great.” I said. I left the room.
The officers knocked on Abel’s door. The lock clicked, and in the doorway, there stood Abel.
“Hello, good officers! Mighty fine day it is today, isn’t it?” He greeted us as if all was well and he hadn’t done anything wrong.
“Bring her in,” One officer said. The woman who owned the mansion, Amber Smith, walked from behind me.
“Good day, Abel, and I assume… Well, did you steal from me?” Abel’s face turned white.
“Amber, I would NEVER steal from you! EVER!” he yelled.
“Search the house.” one officer said. Amber came with us as we entered. Abel stared. Amber stuttered,
“I don’t necessarily think that you stole from me, I,-I just maybe- look-you,-I-” she sighed as she showed the footage of Abel exiting, tightly clasping his coat shut. Abel cocked his head.
“Oh. Now I understand. The night was cold, and I didn’t have a heavy coat. I closed it tightly in hopes of getting warmer.” The police came back out.
“We searched the house. There’s no sign of any jewels or gems around this house. We may have to bring in our best detective, Marilyn Stonewall.”
He picked up his walkie-talkie.