Encyclopedia Brown and the Case of Pablos Nose

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Authors: Donald J. Sobol
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pole,” Muriel said.
    She explained. About eight o’clock the night before, she had been returning home with a little totem pole she had bought at the Museum of Natural History gift shop. Bugs had stopped her. He said he’d trade her a how-to booklet on smoke signals for the totem pole.
    â€œLike an airhead, I agreed,” Muriel said. “Bugs took my totem pole and promised to leave the booklet at my door. What he left was a booklet on smoking a pipe.”
    â€œDid you try to get back the totem pole?” the detective asked.
    â€œSure, but Bugs did all the talking,” Muriel replied. “He told me to read the booklet and buy a peace pipe. He said I had to start small. Then he told me to get lost.”
    â€œLet’s go see Bugs,” Encyclopedia said.
    â€œInclude me out,” Muriel said. “Bugs said if I came around again he’d shove me into a mustard jar. I’ll stay right here, even if I have to force myself.”
    â€œDon’t be afraid,” Encyclopedia said. “Bugs’s belch is worse than his bite. Thinking gives him a headache.”
    Muriel shrugged. “Okay, I’ll go along, but I wish I had a survival kit.”
    The Tigers’ clubhouse was an empty toolshed behind Mr. Sweeney’s auto body shop. Bugs was outside with Monk Walsh, one of his Tigers.
    â€œMan oh man!” Bugs growled upon seeing Encyclopedia and Muriel. “Look what came out of the rain forest!”
    Encyclopedia was used to Bugs’s greetings. “You know Muriel Rivers, I believe,” he said calmly.
    â€œYeah,” Bugs answered. “Not a bad kid if looks and brains don’t count.”
    â€œDid you promise to give her a booklet on smoke signals in return for her totem pole?” Encyclopedia asked.
    Bugs raised his nose. “It’s true that I’m a master at sending smoke signals. I say this humbly. But totem pole? Booklet? Why, the girl has drunk too many milk shakes.”
    â€œIs that so?” Muriel cried. “Where were you last night around eight?”
    Bugs blinked. “Uh … me and Monk were in South Park making smoke signals.”
    Muriel snorted. “Liar!”
    â€œWe’ll show you where we were,” Monk shot back.
    They all biked to the park’s picnic grounds, a grassy area with tables, benches, and barbecue grills.
    On the east side of the grounds was a lake. On the west side was a little forest of oak trees. On the other two sides were a parking area and a baseball field.
    Bugs walked up to a grill. It had ashes in it.
    â€œWe used this very grill last night to practice sending smoke signals,” he said. “Us Tigers respect the land. We don’t build fires on the ground like lawbreakers.”
    Encyclopedia was thinking over what he knew about smoke signals. Native Americans had used them mostly as warnings. A sudden puff told of strangers on the plain below. Quick puffs meant the strangers were well armed. If smoke was allowed to rise steadily, it meant the tribe had to gather its warriors for battle.
    Bugs said, “We came here last night because there was no wind and no one was around. We don’t like to bother anyone or be bothered.”
    â€œNo one was around,” Encyclopedia said, “because the picnic area is closed on weekdays after sundown.”
    â€œWe forgot it was Monday. Is that a crime?” Bugs said.
    â€œHow come you didn’t get caught?” Muriel asked. “The police patrol to make sure no one is up to mischief. They use searchlights.”
    Bugs grinned. “We saw a searchlight. It scared us, I’ll admit. We ran.”
    â€œThe searchlights are on the police cars,” Muriel said.
    The news rocked Bugs back on his heels and made Monk’s ears wiggle.
    â€œTell me you outran a police car!” Muriel challenged.
    Bugs steadied himself. “The searchlight we saw turned out to be the full moon shining through

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