Philip and the Thief (9781619500648) Read Online Free

Somebody will. I know they will.” He
looked at Philip.
    “ Come on, Emery,” said Philip. “Let’s
go home.” He and Emery walked away quickly.
    “ It better not be you. You better not
tell on me,” Jason called after them. “Either one of you. You
better not.”
     
     

Chapter Six
     
    When Philip reached home, his mother had a
message for him.
    “ Mrs. Moriarty called,” she said. Mrs.
Moriarty was Philip’s favorite neighbor. She lived alone and was
always very friendly—and generous—to Philip. “She got your flyer,
and she has a mystery for you to solve.”
    Philip’s eyes opened wide. “She really does?
What is it? What happened?” He tossed his book bag on the sofa next
to his mother, who sat with little Becky in her lap, feeding her a
bottle of milk.
    “ Your book bag, please. It goes up in
your room.”
    “ I know. I will. What’s her
mystery?”
    “ She didn’t say, Philip. I told her
you’d walk down to see her when you got home.”
    “ Great. I’ll go now,” said Philip,
running out the door.
    Behind him he heard his mother call, “Your
book bag . . .” but he kept on going.
    As he hurried down the street, he thought of
Emery. Should he stop by and get him? No, Philip decided. Emery had
quit being a detective. Why should he share this real mystery with
someone who didn’t really want to be a detective? He didn’t need
Emery. He would solve this mystery all by himself.
    Philip rang Mrs. Moriarty’s doorbell. When
Mrs. Moriarty opened the door, she smiled at him. “Boy, do I need
you.”
    Philip walked into the warm house. It felt
good to finally take off his coat.
    “ Here, give it to me,” said Mrs.
Moriarty.
    “ No, no. I know where to hang it,” said
Philip. He wasn’t usually so careful about hanging up his coat, but
Mrs. Moriarty moved slowly, and Philip didn’t want to wait for her
to hang up the coat and come back. He wanted to hear about the
mystery now.
    Mrs. Moriarty sat on her sofa and when Philip
returned she offered him a Hershey Bar. Philip liked Mrs. Moriarty
because she was the only grownup in the world who liked candy as
much as he did. “Take one, Philip,” she said. “Me, too. It will
help us to think.”
    Philip took the Hershey Bar from Mrs.
Moriarty and ripped off the paper.
    “ What’s your mystery?” asked Philip,
chomping into the chocolate.
    “ Well, little man, I got your flyer
yesterday. I have it hanging on my refrigerator. I never thought
I’d need a detective so quickly. Well, I went to the post office
today and bought a book of stamps, and after I bought the stamps I
went to the drug store for a pack of batteries and these Hershey
Bars. I came home and emptied my purse of the stamps and put
everything I bought on the dining room table. Then I went to answer
the phone. It always rings at the worst times. When I got back, the
batteries and candy were there but no stamps. I’ve looked all over
the house. Nothing.”
    “ And you want me to find the
stamps?”
    “ I do, indeed.”
    Philip and Mrs. Moriarty looked at each
other.
    “ Now what?” asked Mrs.
Moriarty.
    Philip thought back to his finding the
Snickers behind his closet and finding Emery’s Superball—his two
most successful cases. “Let me look around first,” said Philip. It
would give him some time to think.
    “ I already looked everywhere I can
imagine,” said Mrs. Moriarty to Philip’s back as he bent over and
looked behind a living room chair.
    “ Where did you say you put everything
down?”
    “ On the dining room table.”
    “ Oh. I guess I should look in there,
then,” Philip said.
    “ It would be a better place to look
than the living room, I think,” Mrs. Moriarty said with an
understanding smile.
    Philip circled the big shiny wooden table. As
he walked, he thought. Stamps couldn’t roll like the Superball into
some hole, but they could blow somewhere. “Did you have the windows
open?” Philip asked.
    “ Too cold. I had the windows closed,”
said