Mr. Pin: The Chocolate Files (3 page)

“But just call him Al,” said Luigi, the pasta man.

Chicago was one of those big cities that made room for a conductor named Alberto Dente who wanted to be a pasta truck driver named Mac for a little while. It also made room for a truck driver, Luigi, who became a star tenor while Mac delivered his pasta. But best of all, the Windy City welcomed a rock hopper penguin detective who conducted the opera for Mac … that is, until another case came by Smiling Sally's diner on Monroe.

No reason why big cities can't have big hearts.

A Case of Stolen Eggs

1

Chicago was a hot city in July. Hot streets with cool museums. So when the fans broke in Smiling Sally's diner, Maggie and Mr. Pin went to the Field Museum to look at dinosaurs.

It was bone-dry and cool inside the museum. Spotlights lit huge dinosaur skeletons and exhibits in glass cases. Maggie stopped at the brontosaurus skeleton. Mr. Pin went on to look at protoceratops eggs in a glass case.

Mr. Pin pressed his beak against the glass. Suddenly he noticed a screwdriver glinting in a spotlight. Then a black, gloved hand slowly worked its way up the case. In an instant, the spotlight went out and the whole room was pitch-black.

Alarms howled. Mr. Pin searched in the dark for his black bag. Running feet brushed by. He found his bag and took out a large flashlight. In the flashlight's beam, he caught Maggie crouched next to the great ground sloth. Then he scanned the protoceratops egg case with his light. The black, gloved hand was gone.

Meanwhile, Maggie crept toward Mr. Pin. “It doesn't look like anything is missing,” she said.

“Look closely,” said Mr. Pin.

“It looks like six protoceratops eggs,” said Maggie.

“That's what the thief wanted you to think,” said Mr. Pin. “The eggs,” he pointed out, “are chocolate.”

“Then the real eggs were stolen,” said Maggie. “Are there any clues?”

“Chocolate is always a clue,” said Mr. Pin.

The glass door of the case had been forced open, so the penguin detective was able to dip his wing into the case and lightly touch a chocolate egg. He preened his wing, then announced, “There is something wrong with this chocolate.”

Just then, the lights went on. The air-conditioning hummed again, and a man in a long white coat came running toward Maggie and Mr. Pin.

“What's missing?” asked the man.

“Dinosaur eggs,” said Mr. Pin. “The eggs in the case are fake.”

“Fake protoceratops eggs. What a tragedy!” said the man, leaning over to study the case.

“Bad chocolate is always a crime,” said Mr. Pin.

“We were going to CAT scan the eggs to see what was inside. Museums have been finding unhatched fossil dinosaurs inside fossil eggs.”

“Could the dinosaur eggs ever hatch?” asked Maggie.

“Oh, no,” returned the man in the white coat. “But the eggs do tell us a lot about what dinosaurs were like. The CAT scan takes a picture of what's inside the egg, like an X ray.”

“You must work for the museum,” said Mr. Pin.

“Yes,” said the man in white. “I am a paleontologist. I study dinosaurs. I am Professor Hugo Femur.”

“I'm Maggie and this is Detective Pin.”

“Reasonable rates,” said Mr. Pin, tipping his checked cap.

“Glad to meet you,” said Professor Femur. He ran his hand through his white hair and tapped his smudged, round glasses. “Looks like we need a detective around here. Do you think you could find the thief who stole the eggs?”

“No problem,” said Mr. Pin. “We're on the case.”

2

The sky was black. The air was quiet. But a summer storm was about to hit. Maggie and Mr. Pin made it back to Smiling Sally's diner just as rain pelted Monroe Street.

Smiling Sally dished up two pieces of chocolate cream pie as the two detectives walked in.

“Just made it,” said Sally, spinning a plate in her hand. “You're the first to try this batch.”

Mr. Pin took a large forkful and shoveled it into his beak. First he looked startled. Then he coughed and held his side.

“What's wrong?” asked Maggie.

“Grit,” said Mr. Pin. He shook his beak and swayed a little on the diner stool.

“What do you mean ‘grit'?” asked Smiling Sally.

But Mr. Pin had trouble talking.

Smiling Sally looked alarmed. “Are you all right?”

“Not all right,” gasped Mr. Pin. His eyes clouded and the last thing he managed to say was “Chocolate.”

Maggie caught Mr. Pin just before his beak landed in the chocolate cream pie. “I don't understand how he could want more chocolate at a time like this,” she said out loud. But it wouldn't be the first time, thought Maggie, that Mr. Pin seemed unusually interested in chocolate.

Smiling Sally helped Maggie carry Mr. Pin to the back room and set him down on the cot.

“It was just a pie. Just a chocolate cream pie,” said Smiling Sally.

Maggie took off Mr. Pin's cap and fanned his forehead. After what seemed like an awfully long time, Mr. Pin slowly opened his eyes.

“What happened?” asked Sally, smoothing his feathers.

“Don't eat the chocolate,” whispered Mr. Pin. “It's bad.”

“Maybe you're allergic to it,” suggested Maggie.

“Not possible,” snorted Mr. Pin.

“Maybe you've just had too much,” said Sally. “After all, it seems like all your cases are solved by eating chocolate.”

“I am not allergic to chocolate,” insisted Mr. Pin. “This chocolate is bad. It contains grit.”

“What do you mean ‘grit'?” asked Sally again. “I buy the best chocolate from Luigi.”

“Grit is a lot like sand,” explained Mr. Pin. “Someone must have known that too much grit can make a penguin sick.”

“Oh dear,” said Sally.

“I wonder if Luigi had something to do with this,” said Maggie.

“It's hard to say,” said Mr. Pin, resting his beak on his chest.

“Then I guess now we have two cases to solve,” said Maggie. “Valuable dinosaur eggs are replaced by chocolate eggs and somehow Luigi sold Sally some bad chocolate.”

“I wonder,” said Mr. Pin, holding his side with his wing, “if there is a chocolate problem in this city.”

3

Maggie was up early the next morning and poked her head into Mr. Pin's room. Mr. Pin was snoring beneath a large book entitled
Old Bones Picked by New Experts
. Maggie wondered how Mr. Pin had found a fossil book so quickly. But Maggie had other things on her mind.

“I am wondering,” said Maggie to the sleeping penguin, “if we should talk to Luigi.” Mr. Pin answered with a loud snore.

“We need to find out why Luigi sold bad chocolate to Sally.” Mr. Pin barely moved beneath his book.

“Unless, of course,” said Maggie a little louder, “you really
are
allergic to chocolate.”

“No, absolutely not,” said Mr. Pin, opening his eyes and suddenly waking up.

“Sally said she could take us over to Luigi's pasta shop,” said Maggie. “Can you go?”

“No problem,” said Mr. Pin. He tried sitting up by rocking over to one side. When that didn't work, Mr. Pin tried swinging his feet back and forth. He stayed right where he was. “I don't think I am very well,” he said finally. “I am afraid I can't go anywhere.”

“But what about the dinosaur eggs?” asked Maggie.

“There is only one thing to do,” said Mr. Pin.

“What's that?” asked Maggie.

“You'll have to take the case,” said Mr. Pin. “Or the two cases. Go with Sally to Luigi's. Find out as much as you can and try to get a sample of his chocolate.”

“Right,” said Maggie.

“And one more thing,” instructed Mr. Pin.

“What's that?” asked Maggie as she started to leave.

“If you get your CB radio from upstairs,” said Mr. Pin to Maggie, “you can set it up next to my bed. That way, we can stay in touch when you go to Luigi's.”

“Good idea,” said Maggie. “It might save time.”

“And time,” said Mr. Pin, “is what we need most.”

4

Luigi was rolling out fresh pasta when Maggie stepped inside his shop. Sally stayed in her truck and talked to truckers on her CB radio. She called in orders as the truckers made deliveries in Chicago.

“I'm here about your chocolate,” said Maggie, hoping to set Luigi off guard.

“Only the best,” said Luigi. “I have only the best.”

“Have you ever sold a bad batch?” asked Maggie.

“Never. I sell two things,” said Luigi. “Pasta and chocolate. Never bad. My chocolate comes straight from Italy.”

“I had to ask,” said Maggie. “Mr. Pin got sick from the chocolate you delivered to the diner. Now he can't get out of bed and we're on a case of stolen dinosaur eggs.”

“You have a case of stolen eggs!” cried Luigi.

“No,” said Maggie. “We're looking for stolen eggs.”

“I hope you find the case,” said Luigi.

“We have the case,” said Maggie, “but we're looking for the eggs.”

“How can I help?” asked Luigi.

“I need a sample of your chocolate,” said Maggie.

“No problem,” said Luigi. “I have a case left. In fact, I was saving it for Sally in case she needed it.”

“Thanks,” said Maggie. “I have a case too.” Maggie thought for a minute, then asked, “By the way, has anyone suspicious come into your shop lately?”

“Oh, no,” said Luigi. “My customers are the best, only the best. I was just saying that to the fossil man.”

“Who?” asked Maggie, getting excited.

“The fossil man,” said Luigi. “I buy all of my fossils from him.”

“You collect fossils?” asked Maggie.

“Why, yes, I do. In fact,” Luigi went on, “the fossil man came into my shop just this week and bought a case of chocolate. I told him he must like chocolate almost as much as Mr. Pin.”

“Then what did the fossil man say?” asked Maggie.