Mr. Pin: The Chocolate Files Read online

  Mr. Pin: The Chocolate Files

  Mary Elise Monsell

  ATHENEUM BOOKS BY

  MARY ELISE MONSELL

  The Mysterious Cases of Mr. Pin

  Crackle Creek

  Mr. Pin: The Chocolate Files

  With love to Susan and Sarah

  —M. E. M.

  Contents

  The Case of the Missing Conductor

  A Case of Stolen Eggs

  The Case of the Missing Conductor

  1

  It was midnight and Chicago was cold. Smiling Sally’s diner was closed for the night. But a light was on in the back room. Mr. Pin, famous crime-solving rock hopper penguin, was listening to opera.

  Mr. Pin had come from the South Pole to be a detective. He had saved Smiling Sally’s from being blown up by ruthless gangsters. Since then, the diner was his home.

  The wind blew newspapers down the alley. Mr. Pin put on his checked cap and red muffler and hopped up onto a crate. Then he raised a pencil into the air and pretended to conduct the opera on the radio.

  Suddenly, there was a loud screech in the alley. It wasn’t the wind and it wasn’t the opera. The penguin detective dropped his pencil and hopped off his crate.

  Quickly, Mr. Pin put out the light and grabbed a heavy rag mop. He was ready for trouble and trouble seemed to be breaking into the back door of the diner.

  Just then, the penguin detective smelled something different. Feathers, he thought. But the feathers weren’t his. As the back door opened slowly, a feather boa fluttered in the draft. A dark figure stepped inside.

  “Stop right there,” ordered Mr. Pin. “I have a large mop.”

  “Please,” said a high-pitched voice. “I need your help.”

  “Help,” said Mr. Pin. “Then you’ll have to come into my office.” With that, Mr. Pin lowered the mop and led the way for the figure in black.

  “What’s going on?” said Maggie, who appeared in her bathrobe, red hair in all directions. She lived upstairs with her aunt Sally, two gerbils, and a CB radio.

  “I’m sorry if it sounded like I was breaking in,” said the high voice in the dark. “But I am very famous. I think there might be trouble and I didn’t want anyone to see me come here.”

  Maggie followed the sound of creaking floorboards to Mr. Pin’s room. Then she switched on the light.

  The dark figure was a lady dressed in a long black coat and pink feather boa. She had thin eyebrows and her lipstick was bright red. “Let me introduce myself,” she said. “I am Berta Largamente, the opera singer. I think there is going to be a crime at the opera house.”

  “Crime?” asked Mr. Pin, standing on his typing crate. “What crime are you worried about?”

  Maggie sat down on a box of canned tomatoes and took notes. Berta took the only chair, next to the radio, which was still playing opera music.

  “I think the conductor is going to be kidnapped,” said Berta loudly.

  “Kidnapped,” said Maggie. “That’s serious. Did you call the police?”

  “Well, no. I haven’t called them yet, but the conductor is acting strangely,” explained the opera singer. Then she hurried on, saying, “He’s been showing up late. He looks very worried and he’s missed my singing cues. I also found a note.”

  “What about a note? What did it say?” asked Mr. Pin. He turned the radio volume down.

  “The note said ‘Danger ahead. Watch your step.’” Then to the two detectives, Berta added, “I found it on his music stand.”

  “On his music stand …” repeated Mr. Pin. “The conductor could be in trouble. When can I talk to him?”

  “Then you will help. I heard you were a famous detective. I wasn’t sure you’d take the case.” Then Berta added, “You can see him tomorrow night at the opera.”

  “We’ll need tickets,” said Mr. Pin.

  “Of course,” said Berta. “The tickets will be at the box office. You’ll have to sit at the top, the very top. The best seats are at the top.”

  “Why is that?” asked Maggie.

  “The sound,” said Mr. Pin, “is best at the top.”

  Screech!

  “Oh, that’s my limousine,” said Berta. “I told my driver to go around the block. I need to go. Thank you for your help. I hope you like my solo tomorrow night.” Maggie got up to open the back door.

  “I was just wondering …” Mr. Pin started to say. But Berta didn’t hear him and neither did Maggie. Maggie watched the opera star step quickly into the alley, a cloud of pink feathers fluttering behind her. Then Maggie locked up and went upstairs.

  “I wonder,” said Mr. Pin, this time to himself. “Why didn’t Berta call the police?” Then Mr. Pin turned the radio volume up a little. He tapped his pencil on the crate. And as the limousine fishtailed down the alley, Mr. Pin conducted again.

  2

  It was morning and Mr. Pin was barely awake. But the smell of Smiling Sally’s hot cinnamon rolls was too much for the hungry penguin. He put on his red muffler and headed for the steamy diner.

  A row of truckers sat at the counter while Smiling Sally poured coffee and served buttery rolls.

  “Come on in,” she said to each trucker. “Food’s good and you meet interesting people.”

  Mr. Pin sat down at the counter next to Luigi, who drove a pasta truck. Luigi was talking to a well-dressed man who called himself Mac.

  “I love opera,” said Luigi to Mac. “I always wanted to be an opera singer. Sometimes I sing in my truck when I make pasta deliveries.”

  “What do you sing?” asked Mac. He was pouring chocolate syrup over his eggs. “By the way, this is great chocolate.”

  “Tenor,” said Luigi. “And thanks. I sell the chocolate to Sally, along with fresh pasta.”

  “Where do you sing?” asked Mac.

  “In my truck,” said Luigi.

  “We’re going to hear the opera tonight,” Maggie said as she came in from the kitchen carrying a tray of cinnamon rolls. “Mr. Pin and I are on a case.”

  “I’ll give you a ride,” said Luigi to Maggie and Mr. Pin. “The opera house is on my way to a delivery.”

  “Thanks,” said Maggie. “By the way,” she said to Mac, “you’re new around here. Where are you from?”

  “Italy,” said Mac. He looked a little nervous as he quickly put on his coat, paid the bill, and nodded to Smiling Sally.

  Mr. Pin picked up the chocolate syrup as he watched Mac leave.

  “Who was that?” asked Maggie.

  “Mac,” said Luigi. “He wants to learn to drive a truck.”

  “Do you think he’s really from Italy?” asked Maggie.

  “Yes,” said Mr. Pin, pouring syrup directly on the tip of his wing. “But I don’t think his name is really Mac.”

  3

  “I always sing when I drive. Keeps me awake,” said Luigi to Maggie and Mr. Pin as he drove them to the opera. Luigi sang arias to the music on the radio while Mr. Pin tapped his wing on the dash. Luigi swung his pasta truck behind a long line of limousines parked on North Wacker in front of the opera house. The two detectives climbed out.

  “I’ll pick you up later,” said Luigi.

  Mr. Pin and Maggie made their way through the crowd of operagoers to the ticket counter. There they collected their tickets, left by Berta Largamente, and walked over to the elevator.

  “Best seats are at the top,” the elevator man told Maggie and Mr. Pin when they stepped inside. “I’m Harold. I run this elevator. Matter of fact, I run just about everything else here too.”

  “I’m Maggie and this is Mr. Pin, penguin detective from the South Pole,” Maggie told Harold.

  “Reasonable rates,” said Mr. Pin.

  “Gla
d to meet you,” said Harold as he pulled the door open. The two detectives stepped out. “It’s hot,” Harold went on, “but the best sound is at the top.”

  Mr. Pin tipped his cap. Then he and Maggie looked for their seats.

  It was hot on the upper level. Maggie took off her winter coat. Mr. Pin took a tin of opera chocolates out of a black bag and fanned his feathers. Together they read the program.

  Soon the houselights faded. The audience hushed. Tiny flashlights flickered. The curtain parted and there, right in the middle of the stage, was Berta Largamente in a silver sequined gown. The orchestra thundered and Berta started to sing.

  Maggie took a pair of binoculars out of her backpack.

  “The conductor looks familiar,” she whispered. She handed the glasses to Mr. Pin.

  “It’s Mac,” said Mr. Pin. “The same Mac who was in the diner.”

  “What!” said Maggie, clapping a hand over her mouth.

  Suddenly, a dense, blue fog erupted out of the stage floor. It spread everywhere. Berta disappeared almost completely, but she kept singing. Then the blue fog rolled over the edge of the stage and into the orchestra pit. The conductor still held his baton and directed the fog-covered musicians. But all of a sudden, the orchestra stopped playing. The conductor had disappeared!

  “Mac is in trouble,” said Mr. Pin, springing out of his seat. Maggie grabbed her backpack and coat and rushed after the penguin detective.

  Berta kept singing. The audience was thrilled. They thought the fog was a wonderful special effect.

  Mr. Pin raced past the ushers and turned the corner toward the elevators. For some reason, there was an OUT OF ORDER sign on Harold’s elevator door. The other two were stopped at the bottom.

  “This way,” urged Mr. Pin, gently pulling Maggie’s elbow toward the stairs.

  “Right,” said Maggie. They went down six full flights. Then, just as they reached the bottom, the penguin detective stopped short.

  “Hmmm,” said Mr. Pin, looking around.

  “I thought we were in a hurry,” panted Maggie.

  “We are,” said Mr. Pin. “I’m looking for a shortcut from here to the stage.”

  Quietly, Mr. Pin slipped into the main hall. He motioned for Maggie to follow him. Then he carefully moved his wing along the wall near a fire exit. “Ah. This is it!” he whispered.

  “Shhh!” sniffed a lady nearby, not moving her eyes from the stage.

  The penguin detective pushed lightly against the wall. A door swung open.

  “Amazing,” gasped Maggie. “A secret door!” Fortunately, Berta started singing so loudly that the two detectives were able to slip through it unnoticed. Mr. Pin carefully closed the door behind them. Then, down a long, angled hallway, the two raced toward the stage.

  “This hallway is called Peacock Alley. Not too many people know about it,” said Mr. Pin.

  “Just penguins,” said Maggie.

  Alter hurrying down Peacock Alley, the two found themselves backstage. Berta had just finished her solo. The curtain closed as the blue fog lifted.

  “He’s gone!” sobbed Berta as she spotted Maggie and Mr. Pin. “The conductor has been kidnapped.”

  Mr. Pin offered her a handkerchief from his black bag and asked, “Did you actually see someone take the conductor away?”

  “No. But it was just awful,” said Berta, blowing her nose. “A part of the stage moved when it wasn’t supposed to. Sometimes we move it to make different scenes. Anyway, the stage moved up and a trapdoor opened. After that, the fog came pouring out. The orchestra members couldn’t see their music, so they stopped playing. Then no one could see the conductor. That’s when he must have been kidnapped. Of course, I kept singing. But they had to close the curtain when I was done. You can’t have an opera without a conductor. Now everyone is out there eating candy and stamping their feet.”

  “Of course the show must go on,” said Mr. Pin. He turned to Maggie. “But first we need to look under the stage … for clues.”

  “Right,” said Maggie. “Under the stage.”

  4

  Maggie, Berta, and Mr. Pin walked around the back of the stage and down a few stairs. They entered a dark basement room, directly beneath the stage, filled with hundreds of floor-to-ceiling metal cylinders.

  “What are these?” Maggie asked Mr. Pin.

  “Hydraulic lifts,” said Mr. Pin. “They move the stage up and down.” Mr. Pin walked over to one of the cylinders. Nearby was an odd-shaped box. He peered inside.

  “Fog machine,” said Mr. Pin. “And it’s still warm.” The detective searched his black bag and took out a small jar of gray powder. Carefully, he dusted the fog machine with a soft brush dipped in powder.

  “The thief who took the conductor put the fog machine here. He left fingerprints, but they aren’t clear,” he added. “There might be more clues in the orchestra pit.”

  Mr. Pin folded up the fog machine box and tried to lift it. Berta picked up the box and followed the two detectives as they headed for the orchestra pit. They didn’t get very far before they met a man with an oboe.

  “The conductor is missing!” shouted the man.

  “Of course,” said Mr. Pin calmly. “He’s been kidnapped. I’m on the case.”

  “I won’t sing,” said Berta, “without a conductor.”

  “I understand,” said Mr. Pin. Then pointing to the fog machine box, he explained to Maggie, “The police will want to send this to their laboratory.”

  “Right,” said Maggie.

  “But no one else can conduct this opera!” insisted the oboe player.

  Mr. Pin turned to him and said softly, “Nonsense. I can.”

  “Miss Largamente to the stage immediately, please,” called the stage manager.

  Berta looked directly at Mr. Pin and said, “If you conduct, I’ll sing.”

  “If you would,” said Mr. Pin to the oboe player. “Direct me to the pit.”

  “All right,” said the oboe player. “But someone needs to make an announcement. Don’t you need a tuxedo?”

  “Not necessary,” was all Mr. Pin said. He picked up his black bag and strode off, conducting himself to the orchestra pit.

  It was a little curious for the musicians when Mr. Pin climbed onto the conductor’s platform. He needed to have an extra box stacked on top. But strangely enough, no one in the audience seemed to notice that the short black-and-white figure was a penguin about to conduct.

  Mr. Pin tapped his music stand and pushed a small button to signal the stage manager. He raised his baton. The orchestra thundered. The yellow plumes on the side of his head shook. The curtain went up, and, inspired by Mr. Pin, Berta and the chorus sang as they had never sung before.

  5

  “Bravo! Bravo!” The audience demanded another curtain call. But Mr. Pin, penguin conductor, slipped backstage, his black bag tucked under his wing. Maggie rushed toward him.

  “Sally just called. We’ll have to take a cab home. She tried using my CB to tell Luigi to pick us up in his truck, but he doesn’t answer. And he’s not in his pasta shop.”

  “Hmmmm.” said Mr. Pin. “First Mac and then Luigi disappears.”

  “Do you think they are both kidnapped?” asked Maggie, her eyes growing larger.

  “I don’t know,” said Mr. Pin. “But I do know that chocolate has to be the connection.”

  “What connection?” asked Maggie.

  “Luigi and Mac both like the same chocolate,” said Mr. Pin. “Mac was in Smiling Sally’s pouring chocolate syrup on his eggs. He was talking to Luigi.”

  “Do you think Luigi has anything to do with the conductor disappearing?” asked Maggie.

  “Maybe,” said Mr. Pin. “But I did find something interesting.”

  “What’s that?” asked Maggie.

  Mr. Pin opened his black bag and took out a glass bottle of chocolate syrup. “I found this under Mac’s music stand,” he said. “It’s the same chocolate that Smiling Sally uses in her diner. And it is the same sy
rup that Luigi sells to Sally.”

  “But how do you know it’s from Luigi’s pasta shop?” asked Maggie.

  “Luigi,” explained Mr. Pin, “is the only one I know who sells chocolate in a glass bottle. I think he uses glass so it can be recycled.”

  “Luigi doesn’t sound like much of a kidnapper, does he?” said Maggie.

  “No,” said Mr. Pin. “But maybe he is kidnapped.”

  “But why,” asked Maggie, “would anyone want to kidnap a pasta man who recycles chocolate bottles?”

  “I don’t know,” said Mr. Pin. “But I’m going to find out.”

  6

  It was late when Maggie and Mr. Pin finished talking to the police at the opera house. The officers wrapped a long yellow police tape around the orchestra pit and told the two detectives to go home.

  Snow was falling lightly on North Wacker when Mr. Pin and Maggie finally left through the stage door. Mr. Pin stood on the curb and hailed a cab.

  “We might have one more clue,” said Mr. Pin, as snow covered his checked cap. He searched through his bag as a cab pulled up. He and Maggie stepped inside. The two rode in silence for several blocks until all of a sudden, Mr. Pin held a piece of paper up to his beak and said, “That’s it! There’s no chocolate!”

  “What do you mean there’s no chocolate?” asked Maggie. “I thought we were following Luigi’s chocolate connection.”

  “We are,” explained Mr. Pin. “But there is no chocolate on this note. And this is the note Berta Largamente found that said ‘Danger ahead. Watch your step.’”

  Chocolate had been important in most cases, thought Maggie. Not finding chocolate was something new. She wanted to ask Mr. Pin what it meant, but just as they pulled up in front of Smiling Sally’s diner, the penguin detective shouted, “Don’t stop. Follow that pasta truck.”

  “Glad to,” said the cabdriver, nodding his head. “Been a slow night.”

  “It’s Luigi!” said Mr. Pin to Maggie.