Novel - Half Moon Investigations Read Online Free PDF Page A

shoes, because she danced in last year’s talent show. And an angel, because that’s what she is. Not many people have pictures like May Devereux.”
    I was starting to get the picture. Pardon the pun.
    “Oh, I see,” I said, pointing to another row of pictures. “There’s Dermot Carmody. There’s a picture of him sitting by the fire, because he got a summer job in Riley’s Bakery.”
    Mrs. Quinn sighed, disappointed. “No, Fletcher. Wake up, boy. Those are the flames of hell. Dermot dropped out of school, so that’s where he’s headed. See the little horns?”
    “Aah,” I said, holding on to the chair in case my legs decided to get up and run away.
    Mrs. Quinn pointed to another row of tiny pictures. “Here’s Red Sharkey. You see what his first picture is?”
    I leaned in to see. In the box was a crude drawing of an agitated stick figure. “General rowdiness,” I guessed.
    “Well done, Fletcher. Top of the class. General rowdiness. That’s how it always starts. A harmless bit of playacting. But before you know it, you’re on to the serious stuff, just like Red. Fighting, cutting class, suspension.”
    There was a picture for each crime. Suspension was wittily displayed by a lynched stickfigure.
    “And now, on to Fletcher Moon. What do we have here? Only good things. Look, a little bee. . . .”
    “I won the spelling bee in first grade.”
    Mrs. Quinn punched me playfully on the shoulder. I almost fell out of the baby chair.
    “Now you’re getting it, Fletcher. Who says you’re thick? And next we have a little magnifying glass. Because?”
    Another easy one. “Because I was forced to . . . Because I volunteered to find your keys last year.”
    Mrs. Quinn dealt me another jokey blow. I felt my arm go numb. The principal selected a chubby stump crayon from the pack and drew a general rowdiness stick figure in my third box.
    “Now, Fletcher,” she said sadly. “You are branded forever. Let’s hope that this is as far as it goes. I wouldn’t like to see you following the same pattern as Red.”
    “No, ma’am.”
    “We don’t want you ending up with the flames of hell, or in a little nee-naa .”
    “Police car?”
    “Exactly. It’s really quite a scientific system. I can read trends and predict behavior. Sometimes I punish people in advance, because my little boxes tell me what they’re going to do.”
    I felt it was time for a speech. “Don’t worry about Fletcher Moon, ma’am. I’ve learned my lesson. No more stick figures for me.”
    Mrs. Quinn shut the ledger with a thump. “I hope not. Now off you go. You didn’t see who was next, did you? I do hope it’s a naughty child so I can really enjoy administering the punishment. I couldn’t bear another fallen angel.”
    The feeling was returning to my arm. That feeling was pain.
    “I was the only one, unless someone arrived while I’ve been in here.”
    “Only one way to find out,” said Mrs. Quinn, bright-eyed. She flicked the door light from red to green.
    As the door closed behind me, I didn’t know who to be sorry for, Mrs. Quinn or whoever was next in to see her. In the hallway, a kindergartner with tousled hair and a bloody nose was sucking his thumb.
    “Enter!” howled the principal at the top of her lungs. Larry and Adam took up the howl until it echoed down the hall.

I’M ON THE CASE
    MY MOTHER WORRIES about me. She worries that I’m not going to grow, or that I’m going to hit a spurt and cost her a fortune in new clothes. She worries that I don’t have many friends, and she worries about my fascination with crime.
    I try to smile when she’s around to show how happy I am, but I’m not really a smiler so she knows I’m faking. So then I don’t smile and she follows me around asking what’s wrong.
    That day, when she came to my room to check homework, for once I was able to tell her something that made her happy.
    “I’m going over to April Devereux’s house after dinner.”
    Mom was ecstatic. “Oh my God.