The Case of the Stinky Socks Read Free Page B

fastballs to the catcher.
    â€œYou don’t look too happy,” Milo said.
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    Dylan looked up. “My pitching was so bad today, Coach said he’s putting in a substitute. I don’t get to throw against the Eagles in tomorrow’s game.”
    â€œThat’s terrible!” Jazz said.
    â€œIt’s all because I lost my—” Dylan sniffed the air. “My socks! You found them!”
    â€œNo,” she explained, “Milo jumped in a Dumpster. But we might have a clue about who stole your socks.”
    Milo asked, “Is there someone on the team named Mitt? Or anything that starts with Mitt?”
    â€œMitt?” Dylan shook his head.
    â€œCan you tell us the names of the first baseman and the catcher?” Jazz asked.
    â€œOscar Molina and P.J. Boyle,” he said. “Why?”
    â€œWe think one of them took your socks.”
    Dylan stared at his sister. “They wouldn’t do that. We’re on the same team.”
    â€œAre you sure you didn’t do something to make them mad?” asked Milo.
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    â€œOscar is one of my best friends,” Dylan said. “Besides, he wasn’t even here yesterday. He had to go to the dentist.”
    That left only one possible suspect!
    Triumphantly Milo announced, “Then P.J. Boyle must have been the one who stole your socks from the boys’ locker room.”
    Dylan said, “But P.J. never even goes in there.”
    â€œWhy not?” Jazz asked.
    Dylan called, “Hey, P.J.! Come here for a minute?”
    The catcher stood up.
    Jogging toward them, P.J. pulled off the heavy catcher’s mask and plastic helmet, and shook out a long ponytail.
    P.J. was a girl.
    â€œYeah?” P.J. said.
    Dylan looked at Milo and Jazz. They didn’t say anything. He turned to P.J. “Tell Tim he’s leaning back a little too far on the windup.”
    â€œOkay.” She started to walk away, then turned back. “I wish Coach hadn’t pulled you off tomorrow’s game. You’re the best pitcher in the league.”
    Dylan sighed. “Not without my lucky socks.”
    P.J. shook her head. “You and those socks. Dylan, you don’t need luck. You just need to get your head back in the game.”
    Dylan didn’t answer. He just sat there scuffing a cleat in the dirt.
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    Milo felt awful. He had been so sure they were about to nab the thief! If the Wildcats lost to the Eagles tomorrow, it would be all his fault.
    â€œMaybe it was Wildcat Willie after all,” Jazz said as they left the field. “Or maybe it really was an Eagle.”
    â€œBut Chip said the thief was wearing a Wildcats baseball cap,” Milo said.
    â€œJust because he said it doesn’t mean it’s true.”
    â€œYou mean Chip was lying?”
    Hmm, Milo thought. Could Chip be the thief? Maybe he was jealous of Thrillin’ Dylan!
    Jazz shook her head. “I mean, maybe Chip just didn’t see exactly what he thought he saw.”
    Jazz might be right. But if they couldn’t trust what Chip told them about the thief, what did they have?
    Nothing at all.

Milo and Jazz sat glumly in the stands. The cheerleaders were clapping and yelling as Wildcat Willie did cartwheels on the field. At least Willie was happy. The way the game was going, he didn’t have to worry about having to attend state finals.
    The substitute pitcher, Tim, was not doing too well. By the bottom of the fifth, the score was Eagles 7, Wildcats 2.
    An ambulance was parked at the far end of the field. “What’s that for?” Milo asked. “In case the Eagles die laughing at Dylan’s sub?”
    Jazz didn’t even smile at his joke. “Oh, they have an ambulance at all the games, just in case.” She stared at the bench. “Poor Dylan.”
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    Milo didn’t want to think about Dylan or the socks. His very first case, and he had failed.
    His gaze wandered to the ambulance again.,