Marvin Wobble stood outside the town hall, staring at the trail of gravel that had ruined his entire investigation.

He had followed it for nearly ten minutes.

He had interrogated a rock.

He had accused a bush.

He had even asked a squirrel if it had seen Mayor Pickles.

The squirrel had thrown an acorn at him.

Now Marvin stood beneath the town hall sign with his hands on his hips.

“I know the mayor is hiding something.”

Mrs. Noodle nodded.

“Yes.”

“And I know the samosa is connected to it.”

“Probably.”

“And I know those pigeons are involved.”

“Definitely.”

Marvin pointed dramatically at the building.

“So we’re going inside.”

Mrs. Noodle sighed.

“Do we have permission?”

“No.”

“Then we’re breaking in.”

“No.”

Marvin looked disappointed.

“We’re entering through an extremely suspicious door that happens to be unlocked.”

“That’s still breaking in.”

“It’s detective work.”

“Fine.”

—

They entered the town hall.

The building was completely empty.

No mayor.

No staff.

No tourists.

Not even a cleaning lady.

Marvin walked carefully through the hallway.

“Something feels wrong.”

Mrs. Noodle looked around.

“It’s a town hall.”

“Exactly.”

“What does that mean?”

“I don’t know.”

They reached the mayor’s office.

The door was locked.

Marvin examined the handle.

“Stand back.”

Mrs. Noodle moved away.

Marvin kicked the door.

Nothing happened.

He kicked it again.

Still nothing.

He kicked it a third time.

He screamed.

“OW!”

Mrs. Noodle stared at him.

“The door is stronger than you.”

Marvin rubbed his foot.

“That’s why we need another strategy.”

He pulled out a hairpin.

Mrs. Noodle looked at him.

“Why do you have that?”

“For emergencies.”

“You can’t pick a lock.”

“I know.”

“Then why have it?”

“It makes me look professional.”

—

They searched the hallway.

Finally, Mrs. Noodle found a small key hidden under a flowerpot.

She held it up.

“This might work.”

Marvin stared at it.

“How did you find that?”

“I looked.”

He nodded.

“Excellent technique.”

She opened the office.

They entered.

The mayor’s desk was covered with papers.

Marvin started searching.

“Nothing.”

He opened a drawer.

Nothing.

Another drawer.

Nothing.

A third drawer.

A sandwich.

Marvin pulled it out.

“Why does everyone in this town hide sandwiches?”

Mrs. Noodle took it.

“I’m hungry.”

She ate it.

Marvin continued searching.

Then he noticed something.

A painting hung crookedly on the wall.

He straightened it.

Click.

A hidden compartment opened.

Both of them gasped.

Marvin whispered,

“Secret passage.”

Mrs. Noodle looked inside.

“There’s a tunnel.”

Marvin smiled.

“The mayor has a secret tunnel.”

They looked at each other.

“That’s completely normal.”

“No.”

“Exactly.”

—

They entered the tunnel.

It was dark.

Very dark.

Marvin turned on his flashlight.

The beam revealed old bricks.

There were strange drawings on the walls.

Pigeons.

Samosas.

Arrows.

And one enormous picture of Mayor Pickles wearing a crown.

Mrs. Noodle stopped.

“What is this?”

Marvin examined the wall.

“Clearly, the mayor is secretly the king of pigeons.”

Mrs. Noodle stared at him.

“That’s your theory?”

“At the moment.”

They continued.

After several minutes, they heard a noise.

**Clang.**

Marvin froze.

“What was that?”

Another noise.

**Clang.**

Mrs. Noodle whispered,

“Someone is coming.”

Marvin quickly hid behind a barrel.

Mrs. Noodle hid behind another.

A shadow appeared.

It moved closer.

Marvin held his breath.

The person stepped into the light.

It was…

Professor Biscuit.

Marvin jumped out.

“HA!”

Professor Biscuit screamed.

“AHHH!”

Marvin screamed.

Mrs. Noodle screamed.

Then all three stared at each other.

Professor Biscuit adjusted his glasses.

“What are you doing here?”

Marvin pointed.

“That’s my question!”

“I’m investigating.”

“So am I.”

“What are you investigating?”

“The samosa.”

Professor Biscuit nodded.

“Me too.”

Mrs. Noodle sighed.

“Of course you are.”

—

Professor Biscuit revealed that he had discovered the tunnel earlier.

He had been following a strange smell.

“Fried potatoes,” he explained.

Marvin nodded.

“Excellent scientific reasoning.”

Professor Biscuit led them farther.

Soon they reached a huge underground room.

It was filled with tables.

Boxes.

Cooking equipment.

And hundreds of samosas.

Everyone stared.

Marvin’s mouth fell open.

“WHAT IS THIS?”

Professor Biscuit looked around.

“This is the greatest discovery of my career.”

Mrs. Noodle picked up a samosa.

“Can I eat one?”

Marvin grabbed her hand.

“No!”

“Why?”

“They might be evidence.”

She put it down.

“Fine.”

Then she picked up another.

“How about this one?”

“No!”

Another.

“This?”

“No!”

She sighed.

“You’re no fun.”

—

A sound came from behind them.

“Welcome.”

Everyone turned.

Mayor Pickles stepped out of the shadows.

He was wearing a white chef’s hat.

Marvin stared.

“You?”

The mayor smiled.

“Yes.”

“Why are you wearing a chef’s hat?”

The mayor looked at it.

“I like it.”

“Why are there hundreds of samosas?”

“That’s complicated.”

“Why is there a secret tunnel under the town hall?”

“Also complicated.”

“Why did you steal the Golden Samosa?”

“I didn’t.”

Marvin pointed at him.

“LIAR!”

The mayor raised his hands.

“I swear!”

Suddenly, Chef Alfredo appeared from another doorway.

“He’s telling the truth.”

Everyone turned.

Chef Alfredo walked into the room carrying a frying pan.

Marvin stared.

“You knew about this?”

“Yes.”

“Then explain!”

Chef Alfredo sighed.

“This underground kitchen was my grandfather’s.”

“What?”

“Years ago, he created the original Butterfield Golden Samosa recipe.”

Marvin looked around.

“Then why hide it?”

“Because the recipe is worth a fortune.”

Professor Biscuit adjusted his glasses.

“How much?”

“Enough to buy this entire town.”

Everyone gasped.

Marvin whispered,

“So someone stole the samosa to get the recipe.”

The mayor shook his head.

“No.”

Chef Alfredo shook his head too.

Marvin frowned.

“Then what is happening?”

—

Suddenly, a loud fluttering sound filled the room.

Everyone looked up.

Gary flew into the underground kitchen.

The mysterious second pigeon followed.

And between them…

Was the Golden Samosa.

Marvin shouted,

“THEY HAVE IT!”

The pigeons flew directly toward the mayor.

The mayor caught the samosa.

Everyone stared.

Marvin pointed.

“You just caught the stolen samosa!”

The mayor looked nervous.

“I can explain.”

“Good.”

The mayor held up the samosa.

“This isn’t the festival samosa.”

“What?”

“It’s the original.”

Chef Alfredo nodded.

“The first Golden Samosa.”

Marvin’s eyes widened.

“Then where is the festival one?”

Everyone went silent.

A strange laugh echoed through the room.

“Ha…”

Everyone turned.

“Ha ha…”

The laughter grew louder.

“HAHAHAHA!”

Marvin looked around.

“Who’s laughing?”

The lights suddenly went out.

A voice whispered:

“You’ve been looking for the wrong samosa.”

The lights came back.

The Golden Samosa was gone.

So was Gary.

So was the second pigeon.

And sitting in the middle of the table was a note.

Marvin picked it up.

It said:

**THE REAL THIEF IS CLOSER THAN YOU THINK.**

Everyone stared at each other.

Then Marvin slowly looked toward Chef Alfredo.

Chef Alfredo looked at the mayor.

The mayor looked at Professor Biscuit.

Professor Biscuit looked at Mrs. Noodle.

Mrs. Noodle looked at Marvin.

Marvin swallowed.

“Why is everyone looking at me?”

Mrs. Noodle pointed.

“You have something on your face.”

“What?”

She wiped his cheek.

A golden crumb stuck to her finger.

Everyone stared.

Marvin’s eyes widened.

“That’s not mine.”

Mrs. Noodle smelled it.

“Samosa.”

Marvin stepped backward.

“I haven’t eaten anything!”

The mayor shouted,

“Then where did you get the crumb?”

“I don’t know!”

Chef Alfredo narrowed his eyes.

“Maybe you stole it.”

Marvin gasped.

“ME?”

Professor Biscuit adjusted his glasses.

“Perhaps the detective is actually the criminal.”

Marvin looked horrified.

“That doesn’t make any sense!”

Mrs. Noodle smiled.

“Doesn’t it?”

Marvin looked around.

Everyone was staring at him.

Then Gary suddenly appeared on a pipe above them.

He dropped a small object.

It landed at Marvin’s feet.

A golden button.

Marvin picked it up.

His eyes widened.

It was from his own coat.

He looked at the button.

Then at everyone else.

“I…”

Nobody spoke.

Marvin swallowed.

“Maybe…”

He looked terrified.

“…I stole the samosa.”

Everyone screamed.

**TO BE CONTINUED…**