The Case of the Mystery Meat Loaf Read online

  How do you dust for fingerprints on meat loaf?

  Club CSI is on the case!

  The Case: An outbreak of food poisoning

  The Crime Scene: The Woodlands Junior High cafeteria

  The Victims: The principal, the swim team, and counting . . .

  The Weapon: Probably the meatless meat loaf from yesterday’s hot lunch

  Persons of Interest: Everyone blames the new science teacher, but the students in Club CSI are convinced that their teacher is innocent.

  The Assignment: Find out who really messed with the meat loaf before more people get sick—and the new science teacher gets blamed for a crime that she didn’t commit.

  Look for more books about Club CSI at your favorite store!

  SIMON SPOTLIGHT

  Simon & Schuster, New York

  Cover illustrated by Chris King

  Design by Victor Joseph Ochoa

  Watch clips, take a quiz, and find more

  books featuring your favorite characters at

  KIDS.SimonandSchuster.com

  This book is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real locales are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  SIMON SPOTLIGHT

  An imprint of Simon & Schuster Children’s Publishing Division

  1230 Avenue of the Americas, New York, New York 10020

  www.SimonandSchuster.com

  © 2012 by CBS Broadcasting Inc. and Entertainment AB Funding LLC. All Rights Reserved. CSI: CRIME SCENE INVESTIGATION in USA is a trademark of CBS Broadcasting Inc. and outside USA is a trademark of Entertainment AB Funding LLC.

  All rights reserved, including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. SIMON SPOTLIGHT and colophon are registered trademarks of Simon & Schuster, Inc.

  ISBN 978-1-4424-4646-5 (hc)

  ISBN 978-1-4424-3394-6 (pbk)

  ISBN 97-8-144246-686-9 (eBook)

  Library of Congress Catalog Card Number 2011934860

  Cover illustration by Chris King

  Design by Victor Joseph Ochoa

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  About the Author

  Hannah, Ben, and Corey hurried down the long hallway of Woodlands Junior High. The three best friends didn’t want to be late for their first class with Mr. Longfellow, the earth science teacher.

  “I hear he’s really strict,” Hannah said, worried.

  “And old,” Ben added, nodding.

  “I hear he knows so much about rocks because he was there when they made ’em,” Corey said. All three laughed.

  As they climbed the stairs to the second floor, Hannah asked, “So, what’d you do over break?”

  Corey grinned. “Video games and basketball. Working on my dunk.”

  Hannah looked skeptical. “You can dunk?”

  “In the video game, yeah,” Corey answered. “What’d you do?”

  Hannah shifted her backpack to her other shoulder. “Well, practicing for my ballet recital took a lot of time.”

  “You were a mouse, right?” Corey asked, smiling.

  Hannah rolled her eyes and then laughed. “I haven’t been a mouse in years! I was a snowflake. And that was in The Nutcracker, back in December. This was a regular recital with my ballet class.”

  “Promotion—nice.” Corey turned to Ben. “And how did you spend your vacation?”

  Ben blinked and looked a little embarrassed. “I thought since we were going to start a new class in earth science, it might be interesting to read a book about geology. . . .”

  “You spent spring break studying?” Hannah asked incredulously.

  “And you find that surprising because . . . ?” Corey asked, laughing.

  “What?” Ben protested. “It wasn’t an assigned book, so technically I wasn’t studying!”

  The bell rang just as Hannah touched the door to the science lab. “And technically we’re on time,” she said.

  She opened the door, and they slipped into the lab, which smelled like chemicals. After they found three seats together, they noticed a slim young woman standing at the front of the class. Her dark hair was pulled into a messy bun at the nape of her neck, with a pencil stuck through it. She wore a loose-fitting black dress with a cropped jean jacket—and cowboy boots. Hannah, who had never thought cowboy boots could look so good with a dress, thought she looked totally cool.

  Corey whispered, “Mr. Longfellow looks nothing like I pictured him.”

  As Hannah suppressed a giggle, the woman set a cardboard box on the desk and began to speak. “Good morning, class. My name is Miss Hodges. I know you were expecting Mr. Longfellow to teach earth science, but there’s been a change of plans.”

  She turned to the dry-erase board and wrote her name. “Mr. Longfellow has retired. So you’re stuck with me.” She smiled.

  Hannah, Ben, and Corey exchanged quick looks. From everything they’d heard about Mr. Longfellow, Miss Hodges was going to be a big improvement. She was young! She dressed cool! She smiled! The new semester was looking better already!

  “And even though this is still a science class,” she continued, “the curriculum has been changed to match my specialty.” As she spoke, Miss Hodges wrote “Forensic Science” on the board in clear, bold letters and then underlined it. “Who can tell me what this means?”

  Ben raised his hand, and Miss Hodges nodded toward him. “‘Forensic’ has to do with legal arguing or debating. So ‘forensic science’ is coming up with evidence to support your argument, usually in court.”

  Miss Hodges nodded, impressed. “Very good! This semester we’re going to learn about the science of gathering and evaluating evidence.”

  Some of the students looked intrigued. Others looked a little thrown. They’d been expecting a class in earth science, but now it sounded as though they were going to learn how to become detectives or something. This obviously wasn’t going to be your average science class.

  Miss Hodges continued, “My cousin works in a crime lab in Las Vegas, so we may even get the opportunity to—”

  Just then the door to the room burst open. A figure dashed in, snatched the box off Miss Hodges’s desk, yelled something, and ran back out of the lab. A couple of students quickly stood up, and a few frantically dug out their phones.

  Miss Hodges raised her hands, motioning for everyone to sit down. “Put your phones away. Everything’s okay. Please take out a piece of paper and write down a short description of what just happened. Don’t discuss it, just write down a description of what you saw.”

  Puzzled, the students sat down, pulled paper out of their backpacks, and started writing. Miss Hodges walked around the room, quietly observing what the students were writing. She nodded and raised her eyebrows as she observed. After a few minutes she asked them to stop by saying, “Okay, pencils down!”

  “Now,” she said, sitting on the edge of her desk instead of behind it. “Be honest. How many of you wrote that the person who ran in here was wearing a hat?”

  Only about eight students raised their hands. “What color was the hat?” Miss Hodges asked. Corey raised his hand. “Y
es?”

  “Black. He wore a black hat,” Corey answered confidently.

  “Dude, his hat was brown,” Ricky Collins argued from the back of the room. Ricky was a big tough kid whose mom ran the school cafeteria.

  “I’m pretty sure it was blue,” a shy girl named Katie said quietly. “Also, it wasn’t a guy. It was a girl.”

  The students started to argue about what they’d seen. Miss Hodges listened for a few moments and then raised her hands for quiet. “So what did the person yell?” she asked, bringing the room back to order.

  They all had different opinions about that, too. Some thought the intruder had yelled, “This is mine!” Others were sure he (or she) had shouted, “Free your mind!” One girl even thought the thief had said, “Kisses are fine!” but she was in a minority of one.

  Miss Hodges laughed. “Let’s find out, shall we?” She opened the door to the lab and leaned into the hall. “Come on back in,” she called.

  A short girl dressed in black came into the class. She was carrying the box and wearing a brown knit hat. “See? Brown hat!” Ricky said, gloating.

  “True, but she’s a girl,” Hannah pointed out.

  “Yeah, I noticed,” said Ricky. A couple of boys laughed.

  “Thank you, Stephanie,” Miss Hodges said to the girl. “Good job.” The girl smiled, set down the box, and started to leave. “Oh, by the way,” Miss Hodges added. “What did you yell when you came in here?”

  Stephanie giggled. “It was gibberish—‘Gisha nine.’ Just like you told me to say.” Giving a little good-bye wave to the class, she left.

  Miss Hodges turned back to the class. “What did we learn here?”

  Hannah raised her hand. “You can’t always trust what you see. Or hear.”

  “Exactly! Even eyewitnesses aren’t always reliable. And with many crimes, there are no witnesses,” Miss Hodges explained. “That’s why we need to collect hard evidence: fingerprints, hairs, fibers, footprints, tire marks . . .”

  “Bl-o-o-d-sta-i-i-i-ns?” Ricky asked, drawing the words out to make it sound as gross as possible. One of his buddies snorted.

  Miss Hodges considered that. “Yes, sometimes. Or saliva. Human tissue. Stomach contents. . . .”

  The class listened, riveted to what Miss Hodges was saying.

  Ricky made a loud retching noise, trying to draw attention back to him.

  Miss Hodges gave Ricky a quick look and then went on, “In this class you’ll learn about how to carefully and systematically gather evidence, scientifically analyze it—sometimes using microscopes and chemicals—and present the results to help solve crimes.”

  Corey raised his hand, and Miss Hodges called on him. “Before the, uh, incident,” he said, “did you say something about having a cousin who works in a Vegas crime lab?”

  Miss Hodges nodded. “Yes, I did. Good memory for details. You would make a fine investigator.” Corey sat up straight, beaming with pride.

  “What did you want to know about my cousin? Or his lab?” Miss Hodges asked.

  Corey looked stumped. “Um . . . I forget.”

  “Class trip to Vegas!” Ricky yelled out. “Vegas rocks!” He liked to let the other kids know he’d traveled beyond the limits of the small Nevada town in which they lived.

  “We might be able to go visit, but please raise your hand next time you have something to say,” Miss Hodges said, leveling her gaze on Ricky for a moment before continuing. “It’s also possible I might persuade him to come here and address the class about his work sometime.”

  The students murmured excitedly. Las Vegas! Miss Hodges cocked her head and raised an eyebrow. “But don’t get the wrong idea,” she said. “This class isn’t going to be all field trips and guest speakers. We’re going to learn the science of crime investigation. And there will be tests.”

  A couple of students groaned. Ricky rolled his eyes. “Now,” said Miss Hodges, turning back to the board, “let’s begin with a brief history of forensic investigation. . . .”

  After class Hannah, Ben, and Corey walked down the hall, buzzing with excitement about their new teacher and the field of forensics.

  “Miss Hodges seems really cool,” Hannah said.

  “Yeah,” Ben agreed. “I’m looking forward to this.”

  “You mean lunch?” Corey asked.

  Ben laughed. “Well, that, too. But I meant the class. I think it’s going to be really interesting.”

  “It’s going to be really interesting,” Ricky mocked, coming up behind them. “That’s just what you would say, dork.”

  Ben looked annoyed, but held his temper. “Don’t you think forensic science is going to be better than earth science, Ricky?”

  “No, I don’t,” Ricky said with a snarl, looking disgusted.

  “Why not?” Hannah asked.

  Ricky looked around, as though he were checking to see if any teachers were listening. “Because I was gonna cruise through earth science!”

  “Cruise?” Corey asked. “But the only thing you know about rocks is how to throw them.”

  Ricky ignored Corey’s comment. “Longfellow used the same tests for thirty years,” he said. “I’ve got copies of everything!”

  “Isn’t that cheating?” Hannah asked. “And where’d you get them, anyway?”

  Ricky sniffed. “I’ve got my sources.” Then he frowned. “But now those copies are totally worthless.”

  “Too bad,” Hannah said. “I guess you’ll just have to study.”

  “Or do something about it,” Ricky muttered. He ran ahead to the cafeteria.

  “Come on,” Corey said. “Let’s hurry before all the food’s gone. It’s burger day, and I’m starving.”

  They hustled down the hall toward the smell of burgers and fries.

  The cafeteria was already noisy and crowded, but after Hannah, Ben, and Corey got their lunches, they managed to find three seats together near the food line.

  Corey bit into his burger, chewed, and swallowed. “All the evidence points to a delicious lunch,” he said with a sigh.

  Hannah looked thoughtful. “You know, this class could really come in handy. Like, for my career.”

  Ben looked up from his burger. “What do ballerinas need to know about forensic science?”

  “They could solve the Case of the Missing Tutu,” Corey suggested. “Or the mystery of how they stand on their toes for such a long time.”

  Hannah shook her head. “I’m not going to be a ballerina. That’s just what my parents think.”

  “Then what are you going to be?” Ben asked.

  “Well, I know I like to help people. So I was thinking about being a police officer,” she answered.

  “You? A cop?” Corey asked with a small laugh. Hannah glared at him. He reconsidered his question. “Actually, I could see it.”

  “But now I’m starting to think maybe it would be cool to be a crime scene investigator.” She drank from her bottle of water.

  Ben said, “Well, I haven’t decided exactly what I want to be. But a class in forensic science might look good on my application to MIT.”

  Corey looked confused. “Isn’t that a basketball league?”

  “MIT stands for Massachusetts Institute of Technology,” Ben explained. “It’s a really excellent college.”

  “Oh,” Corey said. “Then what am I thinking of?”

  “Food, sports, and the National Invitation Tournament,” Hannah answered.

  Corey smiled at Hannah. “Swish! Nothing but net!”

  Now it was Ben’s turn to look confused. “Huh?”

  “He means I got it right,” Hannah said. “NIT stands for National Invitation Tournament, a basketball tournament.”

  “Oh,” Ben said, slightly exasperated at the sporty turn their conversation had taken. “Anyway, a class in forensic science would show that I have broad interests, but it’s still a class in science. College admissions officers like that. I think.”

  “That’s assuming you ace the class,” Corey p
ointed out.

  “Why wouldn’t I ace the class?” Ben demanded.

  “Oh, you probably will,” Corey admitted. “Me, on the other hand . . .” He sighed.

  “Are you worried about passing forensic science already?” Hannah asked. “After just one class?”

  “Well . . . yeah. A little,” Corey said. “Miss Hodges made it sound pretty tough. Chemicals and microscopes and analysis . . .”

  Hannah gave him a reassuring smile. “Don’t worry, Ben and I’ll help you. You’ll do great! She already said you had a good memory for details.”

  “She did?” Corey thought a second and then brightened. “Oh yeah! She did!” He took another bite of his burger, and talked with his mouth full. “I hope you’re right. I signed up for earth science, because I heard it was easy. Someone called it ‘Rocks for Jocks.’ Instead I end up in ‘Clues for Geniuses.’”

  Ben looked puzzled. “That doesn’t rhyme.”

  “I know!” Corey groaned. “See? I’m not even good at making up a nickname for this class! And if I don’t keep my grades up, my parents won’t let me stay on the basketball team.”

  “Relax,” Ben said. “Who helped you put together your leaf collection for second grade?”

  Corey grinned. “You did.”

  “And who helped you learn the state capitals in fifth grade?” Hannah asked.

  “You did,” Corey answered. “I still remember the song you made up.” He started to sing, “Oh, Juneau that in Alaska there’s a guy named Montgomery from Alabama and he’s got a Little Rock—”

  Ben held up both hands. “Stop!” he begged. “Please don’t sing that song! It’ll stick in my head for days!”

  “The point is,” Hannah said, smiling, “we helped you get through those grade-school projects, and we’ll help you get through this junior-high class.”

  Corey looked a little less worried. “Thanks,” he said. “And Miss Hodges seems like a pretty cool teacher, so—”

  “Hey, look!” Hannah said. “There she is!”

  Sure enough, the new forensics teacher was walking into the cafeteria. She looked around, spotted a stack of trays, and picked one up.

  “I guess she doesn’t plan on just hiding in the teachers’ lounge with a sack lunch,” Ben observed.