Serina K. and the Case of the Missing Recipe Read online

  Chapter Five: The Break-In

  I thought about Mr. Brady’s comments on the walk home. I was glad that he was helping me, but he didn’t make much sense out when he was talking about Paradise being around the corner of the post office. I sure hope he’s feeling alright. I called Sara to ask her opinion, but she was busy studying the dictionary in preparation for the Doddle Soup Spelling Bee.

  “Maybe he’s just getting old,” she said. “My grandpa’s like that. I don’t know what he’s talking about most of the time”, she added before turning her attention back to the dictionary and hanging up.

  Maybe Mr. Brady had a point. Between trying to raise and save money for my Ph.D. and the trouble between Suzy and Mr. McCarthy, I feel like I’m about to reach my breaking point. Since it was the weekend and I didn’t have any homework, I decided that I would forget about my problems and just have some fun. The only problem was that I didn’t have anything to do. I thought about styling Suzy’s hair and getting him ready for the dog show at the Doodle Soup Festival, but that was two weeks away. I didn’t see any point trying to make Suzy look glamorous anyway. He doesn’t need a fancy hairdo or costume like some of the other dogs will probably have. He’s got natural beauty. Besides, I’m sure he’ll dazzle the judges with his charming personality.

  I’m really looking forward to the Doodle Soup Festival this year. There will be all sorts of rides and games. I had some bad luck last year at the Paris Fish Fry on the Cage of Fear, but I was looking forward to the new roller coaster, the Twist of Fate, that is set to debut at the Doodle Soup Festival. In addition, Sara and I will probably get our picture in the Bradford Gazette after she wins the spelling bee and Suzy wins the dog show. It will be interesting, though, to see who wins the competition for the best tasting Doodle Soup since Mrs. Doyle won’t be in it this year.

  The Doodle Soup Festival has been a tradition in Bradford since the beginning of time. It only makes sense that it is celebrated in Bradford since Bradford is the Doodle Soup capital of the world. The soup is made easily from the drippings of a roasted or broiled chicken. Add a touch of vinegar and you’ve got Doodle Soup. Some people add hot peppers, onions, and other spices to make it more tasty. Most people eat it with either crackers or a biscuit, but I eat mine with my favorite pastry, the delicious funnel cake.

  I’m not sure who discovered Doodle Soup and brought it to Bradford. I’ve heard that Christopher Columbus brought it over on the Mayflower. I’ve also heard that it was given to Davy Crockett from Native Americans after an agreement was made over some land that eventually became the town of Bradford. I’m not sure what to believe, but I’m betting that it was discovered by some of Mrs. Doyle’s ancestors. Even though they’re not in any of my history books, I’m pretty sure that she probably had some relatives on the Mayflower or that hung around with Davy Crockett back in the old days.

  After thinking about a few experiments I could create that would probably get me grounded until I graduate, I finally decided to grab my metal detector from underneath the bed and head out to the field behind my house and see if I could discover some souvenirs from the Civil War. I didn’t need to get into any more trouble and I needed a big discovery to jump start my archaeological career anyway. Even though it helped me get an “A” on my Social Studies projects last year by explaining the effects littering has on the environment, I was pretty disappointed when all I found last year was an old coffee can after Autumn and I has searched all summer in the sweltering sun for some sort of buried treasure. I’ve heard that archaeologists have been known to spend their entire career without ever discovering anything important. That’s not much different than the prisoner who splits rocks his whole life. I’m not going to give up though. There’s gold in that field. I just know it.

  “Where are you running off to?” my dad asked as I darted down the stairs with the metal detector over my shoulder.

  “Looking for treasure,” I replied.

  “Did you hear about the time capsule,” he asked.

  Last year, Mrs. Crocker’s Social Studies class collected items for a time capsule to be opened at our 20 year class reunion to demonstrate how much people and pop culture change through the years. Many students made scrapbooks and videos, while others put sentimental items in it. In addition to pictures of Suzy, my dad, and me, I filled a Ziploc bag with $2.28 comprised of 4 quarters, 2 dimes, 8 pennies, and a dollar bill for the capsule. I’ve heard of people becoming rich by letting their money sit and draw interest over several years, so I figure that my $2.28 should draw enough interest to build me a pretty good nest egg by the time the capsule is unearthed. Mrs. Doyle donated a copy of her famous Doodle Soup recipe for the capsule. I guess she figured that she would probably be retired from competing at the festival anyway by the time the capsule was opened.

  The burying of the capsule was featured in the Bradford Gazette and on several local television stations. The local news coverage caught the attention of the National News Network who traveled to Bradford a few months later to spotlight the Doodle Soup Festival for a segment on their network. After news spread about the only known copy in existence of Mrs. Doyle’s recipe being buried beneath a concrete marker in front of the school, the Doyles were soon approached by several companies wanting to add Doodle Soup to their line of canned soups. Since Doodle Soup curiosity had spread nationwide and in popular demand, the Doyles decided that they would be more successful if they canned it and sold it themselves. I miss Autumn on my expeditions, but I can only imagine how busy she must be trying to help Mrs. Doyle make enough soup for the entire nation.

  “What about the time capsule?” I asked.

  “Sheriff Daniels said that it was broken into last night,” he answered.

  “It was covered in concrete. How could anyone break into it?”

  “The concrete had been broken to pieces. Someone probably used a sledgehammer to break the concrete and then dug it up.”

  Prisoners bust blocks all the time. I wondered if was possible that a prisoner had broken the concrete and dug up the capsule. “Did Sheriff Daniels mention anything about any one escaping from jail recently?”

  Dad didn’t answer, but just stared at me for minute with a puzzled expression on his face. “Why would anyone break into the time capsule?” I asked my confused dad.

  “The sheriff said it looks like they were after something. Pictures from scrapbooks were scattered across the school grounds. It’s hard to tell what the vandal’s motive was. The only item noticeably missing is Mrs. Doyle’s recipe. The sheriff said that he’ll know more when he is able to gather everything together and find an inventory of all the items that were in the capsule.”

  “I bet it was someone wanting to win the best tasting soup competition. They probably figure that they’ll be guaranteed first place as long as they have Mrs. Doyle’s recipe,” I suggested.

  “Are you going to add detective to your list of career goals now?” he joked.

  In actuality, I’ve been studying Nancy Drew books recently and have been thinking about becoming a detective when I grow up instead of a veterinarian and scientist. I’ve even ordered a Nancy Drew Clue Book that should be coming in the mail within the next few days. “I might take the case,” I answered.

  “In the meantime, it’ll be getting dark in a few hours. Why don’t you put the metal detector up and we’ll go somewhere for dinner?”

  The news about the time capsule had added to stress my already boggled mind. The effects of Sara’s peanut butter and jelly sandwich had disappeared hours ago. My energy level was empty and I needed some nourishment to fuel my brain if I was to begin investigating the time capsule vandalism. “That sounds good,” I answered. “I’m starving.”

  My dad, Sara, and I have initiated a new tradition every Friday night by eating at the Mexican restaurant, El Casa Grande. Even though we had just eaten there last night, Dad said that I deserved a bonus treat since I had been under so much stress. I ordered a fajita burrito and cheese
dip, while Dad had a taco and refried beans. I’m not sure why, but Dad orders refried beans on every trip to El Casa Grande. I guess leftovers are probably cheaper than ordinary, fried beans.

  I enjoyed the meal, but I could not get the vandalism off my mind. After a couple episodes of Hannah Montana, I settled into bed for the night. I wasn’t able to sleep, however, as the vandalism and recipe theft continued to occupy my mind. There was no doubt about it. I had to solve the case.

  I got up out of bed and walked into my Dad’s bedroom. He was still watching TV and hadn’t gone to sleep yet. “Did the sheriff mention what time the break-in happened?” I asked.

  “A patrolman said nothing was disturbed when he drove by shortly after midnight,” he answered.

  “Where were you after midnight?” I asked.