Case File: 34

Reporter: Emma Wildflower

August 29th. 9:23 a.m. While all the real reporters were out chasing missing millionaires and runaway children, I, a rookie extraordinaire, was sent to investigate... a stolen book case. Twelve missing books, to be exact. Called in by a frantic librarian.

Who cares about boring stuff like bank heists, right? Books are the real victims here.

The library looked disappointingly normal. No flashing lights, no police tape. Just kids walking out with arms full of books like it was Christmas day. Any of them could be the thief. Or maybe they all were. A criminal book ring? Probably not. Still, I clutched my camera and notebook and marched through the doors like a hero. No one noticed.

Cue the dramatic sigh.

I found the librarian, Ms. Janet Hodges. She was a woman who looked like she hadn’t smiled since the Dewey Decimal System was invented.

“Emma Wildflower, reporter of the missing book case,” I said, holding up my notebook like a badge. “What books are missing?”

“I don’t remember,”

“...Okay. When did you notice they were gone?”

“This morning. During my rounds.” Ms. J. Hodges sighed.

“Who was here last night?” I pestered.

“I was. And the janitor, Frank. That’s it.”

“Great. I’ll go find him.” I turned away.

“If you don’t find the books by noon, I’m suing you for all you’re worth!” she called after me.

Jeez. How nice.

I wandered off, scanning corners for signs of janitorial activity. Mop buckets, the smell of bleach, maybe some tragic energy. Eventually, I spotted him in a library section, dusting the shelves. He eyed me warily, like most people do, as I came closer.

“Can I help you?” he asked.

“Emma Wildflower,” I explained again, “Investigating a mystery that’ll probably stay unsolved.”

“Oh?”

“Twelve books. Gone. Any ideas?”

“No I don’t, missy.”

“Anybody acting suspicious?”

“Please, miss, I gotta get back to work.” Janitor Frank shook his head.

Shrugging, I left the janitor to his own business. He was grumpy anyway.

Was it a rule that everyone who worked here had to be mean?

After hours of pointless investigating throughout the library, I concluded that this case was as dead as the mouse in your garage. The security cameras hadn’t worked since the 1700s, all fingerprints dusted and scrubbed off by the janitor, no suspicious people in masks. I guess I was just going to live with being sued… wait a second. I didn’t even have two pennies to my name.

Uh-oh.

I went over to the bathroom for one last pointless investigation. Then…

BAM.

A teenager, around seventeen years old, ran into me. He had a terrified look on his face, like he just saw a ghost. I fell to the floor, which was surprisingly wet.

“Hey, watch it!” I exclaimed.

“Some jerk thought it’d be funny to flush a bunch of book pages down the toilet! Water and pages everywhere…I didn’t do it, I promise.” The kid rambled on, fear lining his face.

Knitting my eyebrows together, I got up and walked into the bathroom. Gasping, my eyes probably grew two sizes. Thousands of soaking pages were scattered around the bathroom, water rushing out of the toilets. There were no words.

Pause. A moment of silence for the fallen. The kid shuffled nervously behind me.

Right. Well. Case closed.

I gave Ms. Hodges the bad news (or good news, depending on how you feel about plumbing bills), and left the scene of the crime before I was put on clean-up duty.

My first case? Solved in under an hour. Who needs Sherlock Holmes when you’ve got clogged pipes, am I right?

Tune in next time for more brilliant adventures with your favorite reporter: Emma Wildflower!

I should ask my boss for a raise.