During afternoon recess, Brett couldn’t help but stare longingly at his cousins' house. He loved his aunt, uncle, and five cousins, but he really loved their pool. The morning commute was a breeze for his two cousins who still attended Clairlea Public School. It only took them forty seconds. This meant more time to sleep in, more time to zone out during breakfast, and more time to slowly get ready for school. How awesome was that? Getting home was even better. On a scorching day, it only took three minutes and fifty-five seconds to trudge across the field, change into bathing suits, and jump in the icy blue water. Brett knew this because he’d made this after school pilgrimage many times and on one occasion, his big sister Ellie timed it. Maybe his aunt would be in the yard at the end of the day and he could drop a hint, or do the puppy dog begging face. He just had to go swimming after school.
After the recess bell rang, Brett’s class slowly walked in. Clairlea Public School was holding a massive shoe gallery that week and the hallways were filled with pictures of shoes, clay shoes, felt shoes, and painted shoes. Brett’s favourite was a collection of real shoes decorated to show the four seasons. Toronto was also in the middle of a heat wave and the humidity was causing many works of art to come unstuck. While his teacher stood by the door waiting for the stragglers at the drinking fountain, Brett wandered over to the table that held the four season footwear. His eyes scanned the table to the summer shoes.
“Are you coming Brett?” asked his teacher.
“Yes, I’ll be right over.”
As Ms. Hawkins walked over to the fountain to see what was holding up the line, Brett took a step back to examine the table. Something wasn’t right. One of the shoes wasn’t in its proper place. It was a hot pink summertime stiletto that was covered in polished stones and flowers. Brett wondered who would take someone’s irreplaceable work of art. At first he was angry, but as the class made their way to the carpet, his thoughts turned to the more practical matter of solving this mystery.
While Ms. Hawkins read a book to the class about puffer fish, Brett thought hard about what he could do to gather evidence. He once read a book about investigating a crime scene. He remembered that the first thing you’re supposed to do is cordon off a crime scene using police tape. Well, he wasn’t a police officer and the closest thing he had to police tape was a roll of yellow tape his father once wrapped around their house at Halloween. It said “Beware Haunted House” on it. That wouldn’t work. He would also have to dust the crime scene for fingerprints, so when the class began silent reading, Brett quietly went to the back sink where art supplies were kept. He picked up a roll of transparent tape, a magnifying glass, a box of baking power used for science experiments, and a paintbrush. While his teacher read with a student, Brett stealthily made his way to the door, hoping desperately that he would not drop anything. He somehow managed to open the door with his elbow and left his makeshift crime-busting kit on the floor outside the door.
Slinking down at his desk, he opened up a book on coyotes and pretended to read. His hand shot up.
“Ms. Hawkins, may I please use the washroom?”
“Yes. Just don’t take as long as you did this morning.”
Brett grabbed his supplies and got down to work. He lightly dusted the table with baking soda and began dusting off the excess using the paintbrush. Moving the magnifying glass over the area sure enough Brett discovered several fingerprints. He grabbed the transparent tape and began pressing it over the boldest markings. Brett hadn’t thought about what he was going to do with the evidence, or how he’d bring the crime-busting kit back into the classroom without being noticed. He decided to leave everything in the washroom and just bring back the fingerprints. Brett was certain that someone in his class would distract Ms. Hawkins long enough after school for him to return the art and science supplies to the proper place.
That night, Brett searched the Internet for information about fingerprinting people. He learned that there are seven general fingerprint patterns. The fingerprints he collected were all double loops. One thing was odd about the fingerprints he’d collected. Each print was surrounded by a ring of black grease. What could this mean?
As Brett lay in bed that night, he began thinking about how he could possibly fingerprint an entire school. He wasn’t even sure if this would be allowed. Clairlea had over 500 students and even if he eliminated the kindergarten kids as suspects, he would still have to collect hundreds of fingerprints. He turned off his light and spent the rest of the night tossing and turning.
The next morning, Brett’s class was in the library. Some students were on the computer, but Brett was with a group of students signing out books. The library was noisier than usual. Several older students were working on a big project together and the school’s head caretaker, Mr. Enman was up on a ladder changing a tube light. As he got down from the ladder, Brett approached him. He was going to ask what the school does with old tube lights. Mr. Enman wiped his brow and picked up a white water bottle. Brett couldn’t believe how much water Mr. Enman guzzled down. When he finally finished, Brett opened his mouth to ask him about the light, but instead, his eyes shifted to a large, greasy black fingerprint on the bottle and he froze.
“What were you going to say?”
Brett’s mouth felt like it was full of concrete and he couldn’t think of anything logical. “Great weather we’re having huh?”
“Yeah, if you like being sweaty all day.”
Brett changed his tactic. “Oh I remember what I was going to say. Did you notice a light flickering over the computer lab?”
Mr. Enman looked down at the end of the library. “I can’t see anything flickering from here.”
Brett plucked up more courage. “Trust me, there’s a light flickering down there. It got me a bit twitchy last week. Take my word for it. Go have a look.”
Mr. Enman knew the lights were fine, but decided to humour Brett, so he picked up his ladder and went to the opposite end of the library. Brett ran over to the librarian’s desk and grabbed the tape dispenser. He ripped off a piece and quickly pulled off the greasy print from the water bottle.
“Gotcha,” he said under his voice. “Now all I have to do is run a check on it.”
That night, Brett successfully matched the fresh fingerprint with the one taken from the shoe table. He wasn’t quite sure what he’d say to Mr. Enman. He’d heard about citizen arrests, but wasn’t sure if six-year-olds could arrest people in positions of power at school. The next day, Brett wandered into the school at morning recess. He noticed that Mr. Enman’s door was shut. He knocked on it, but nobody answered. He looked down the hallway and couldn’t see him anywhere, so he slowly turned the knob, and shut the door behind him. Just then, it occurred to Brett that he was trespassing and could get into really big trouble. He decided to wait outside the door until Mr. Enman returned. A few moments later, Brett looked up and saw him coming.
“You again? Next year, you should enter the contest to become caretaker for the day,” Mr. Enman said chuckling. “Do you need something or are you just here for a visit?”
“Uh, we need paper towel in the classroom. Could you please give me some?”
“I’m just heading off for my lunch break. I’ll get some on the way for you.”
“I’ll come with you,” said Brett. “I’d really like to hand deliver it to Ms. Hawkins. She keeps telling me I take too long in the washroom. This might make her happy.”
Mr. Enman looked puzzled. “Alright, but aren’t you supposed to be outside right now?”
“Uh huh.”
As Mr. Enman unlocked the cabinet in the office, Brett looked around the office for the shoe.
“How about those Blue Jays?”
“Yeah, they’ve lost a few games lately, but you’ve got to keep rooting for the home team.”
Brett couldn’t see the pink shoe anywhere. Mr. Enman passed Brett the paper towel.
“Oh, you almost stepped on my lunch bag. Do you mind passing it to me?”
His lunch bag was half-zipped and Brett could have sworn he saw something pink inside it. He cleared his throat.
“Do you mind giving me one more pack of paper towel. We seem to go through quite a bit of it these days.”
Mr. Enman rolled his eyes. “And to think, we’re a Gold level Eco School. I’m going to have to get after your teacher about this.”
As he reached into the cupboard, Brett saw it was his golden opportunity to confirm his ugliest suspicion. “A-ha - I knew it!”
“You knew what?”
“You took the pink spring shoe that’s missing from the shoe gallery. I ran a check on your fingerprints and look, you’re carrying the shoe around like some sad sandwich!”
Mr. Enman began laughing hysterically. "Oh, you think it’s funny to steal a priceless work of art created by a little child?”
“Steal? You think I would steal a shoe from an art display? Why don’t you go and ask your art teacher why I have it. She knows.”
“Yes, I’ll do that. Oh, can I still have the paper towel please?”
The recess bell rang. Brett hightailed it across the yard to the doors where his class lined up. He saw his art teacher picking up a class from the door.
“Can I ask you a very important question?”
“Brett, can’t you see I’ve got a class with me,” she said. “This better be very important.”
“Why does Mr. Enman have one of the shoes from our art gallery in his lunch bag?”
“I ran out of glue for my hot glue guns,” she said. He told me that he had extra glue at home and could fix the stones that came off the shoe. He’s bringing it back tomorrow AND giving me some of his spare glue sticks. Why do you ask? You didn’t think he stole the shoe did you?”
“No. Not exactly.”
“You’ve been reading too many of those crime books for kids,” she said winking.
The following day, just after “O Canada,” there was a knock at the door. Mr. Enman walked into the classroom.
“Hello there,” said Ms. Hawkins. “Let me guess. You’re installing an air conditioner.”
“I wish I could say that I was. Nope. I just wanted to show Brett something. Do you mind?”
“Of course not. What is it?”
Mr. Enman pulled the pink stiletto shoe from a bag. “Apparently this shoe fell off the display table and it got a little damaged. Fortunately, it’s as good as new now and I thought Brett might be happy to put it back in it’s rightful place.”
Brett sheepishly took the shoe from Mr. Enman and the two wandered out into the hallway together.
“Well, that takes care of that,” Brett said. “Don’t we all love a sweet mystery with a happy ending?”
Mr. Enman smiled at Brett. “I do love a sweet mystery, but only when it’s a real mystery. By the way, I found some classroom supplies in the boys washroom the other day. You wouldn’t happen to know anything about that would you?”
Brett looked up at the ceiling. “Maybe... How about those Raptors huh?”
