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stuff like trick-or-treating and kickball and video games.
    In class after lunch we had time to work on our relief maps of Mexico. While I mixed up the dough ingredients and stirred the paint, I thought about poor Kyle and his missing cat and his strange request. I also tried to figure out how come Yasmeen had kicked me. I mean, she wanted to shut me up, but why?
    Anyway, it wasn’t so smart to think about the case while I worked, because the dough cameout all runny and my green paint looked blue. Mrs. Timmons asked me if I was feeling okay and even put her hand on my forehead like maybe I had a fever. Mrs. Timmons likes me because we have cats in common. She has a white one with blue eyes and an orange tiger like Luau, which is something everyone in our room knows because she is always brushing white and orange fur off her clothes.
    â€œDon’t forget to put your dough away in a Ziploc,” she reminded the class when we were done working. I smiled because it made me think of Miss Deirdre and Jeremiah’s preschool. I guess when it comes to dough, you never grow up.
    Yasmeen met me at the door of the classroom after school.
    â€œThere was something strange about the way Kyle was talking,” she said. “Did you notice? He was so nervous.”
    I slung my backpack over my shoulders, and we started walking down the hall. “Sure, I saw he was scared,” I said. “So what, though? Why not tell him about the catnip? Why not tell him what my mom said?”
    â€œI don’t know how to explain this,” she said, “but something told me not to trust him—like an instinct.”
    We walked out the front door of the school and into the daylight. It was a perfect fall afternoon—blue sky, white clouds, fiery leaves.
    â€œCome on, Yasmeen,” I said. “You don’t think he stole his own cat, do you?”
    Yasmeen shook her head like she was trying to straighten out her thoughts. “That doesn’t make sense, does it?” she said. “But wait. What about this? What if he made up the story about seeing the thief?”
    â€œAnd he doesn’t want us to do any detecting because he’s afraid we’ll find out,” I said.
    Yasmeen nodded. “Exactly.”
    â€œBut why would he do that?” I asked.
    â€œMaybe something else happened to Hallo - ween,” Yasmeen said. “Maybe Halloween wasn’t supposed to go outside, and Kyle let her out, and she got hit by a car or something else bad, and now Kyle is afraid he’ll get in trouble.”
    That was a pretty smart guess, I thought. Lotsof people keep their cats inside to protect them. I could imagine a kid inventing a story to stay out of trouble and then getting scared someone would find out.
    But I would never tell Yasmeen I thought she was smart. She already thinks she is plenty smart. So I just said, “Yeah, maybe. Anyway, now we’ll never know for sure.”
    â€œWhat do you mean?” Yasmeen asked.
    â€œYou told Kyle we would quit detecting,” I said.
    Yasmeen shook her head and grinned. “No, I didn’t.”
    I thought back to what she had said in the cafeteria. “You told him you wouldn’t bring Halloween back,” I said.
    Yasmeen nodded. “But I never said
you
wouldn’t.”

Chapter Twelve

    Yasmeen and I had just turned the corner onto Chickadee Court when we spotted a police car parked in front of Bub’s house.
    That sounds scary.
    But it wasn’t.
    There’s a police car there a lot. Officer Krichels is Bub’s friend. He likes to stop off for soup.
    I looked at Yasmeen. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”
    She nodded. “We need to talk to Officer Krichels. But what time are we going to get the pumpkins?”
    â€œDad said the PTA meeting will go till five,” I said.
    Yasmeen smiled. “I can be a little late getting home, too. My dad won’t be back with Jeremiah till