The first rule of detective work, according to Inspector Milo Finch, was simple.

Never trust anyone.

The second rule was even simpler.

Never trust a person who owns a suspiciously large collection of spoons.

Unfortunately, Milo had forgotten both rules by breakfast.

The morning after the laughing clock incident, Bellwick was in complete chaos.

People were standing in groups all over the town, discussing the events of the previous night.

Some believed the clock was haunted.

Others believed the mayor had secretly installed a mechanical laughing machine.

A small group of extremely confident citizens believed the clock had simply heard a funny joke.

Nobody knew what the joke was.

But they were certain it had been hilarious.

Milo, meanwhile, was sitting in the police station eating twelve pieces of toast.

Clara Quibble stood across from him with her arms crossed.

“You said you were going to investigate.”

“I am.”

“You’re eating toast.”

“Exactly.”

“How is that investigating?”

Milo held up a piece.

“Every great detective needs breakfast.”

“You have already eaten eleven.”

“Eleven pieces of toast ago, I was a different detective.”

Clara stared at him.

Milo took another bite.

“Now I am stronger.”

“You’re covered in crumbs.”

“That’s the strength.”

Clara dropped a large folder onto the table.

THUMP.

Milo jumped.

“What’s that?”

“The case.”

“Ah.”

He looked at the folder.

Then he looked at his toast.

Then back at the folder.

“Can the case wait?”

“No.”

“Ten minutes?”

“No.”

“Five?”

“No.”

“Three?”

“Inspector.”

“Fine.”

Milo reluctantly opened the folder.

Inside were several pages of notes.

At the top, Clara had written:

THE LAUGHING CLOCK MYSTERY

Milo nodded seriously.

“Excellent handwriting.”

“Thank you.”

“Much better than mine.”

“Everyone’s handwriting is better than yours.”

Milo ignored this.

Clara pointed to the first page.

“Last night, the clock laughed at midnight.”

“Correct.”

“A gear disappeared from the clock mechanism.”

“Correct.”

“We found two black feathers.”

“Correct.”

“A mysterious golden key.”

“Correct.”

“Professor Archibald Tickwell disappeared.”

“Correct.”

“And someone left a message saying, ‘The first gear has awakened.'”

Milo leaned back.

“Excellent.”

Clara waited.

“Well?”

“Well what?”

“What do you think?”

Milo tapped his chin.

“Obviously, the thief is a bird.”

Clara closed her eyes.

“Milo.”

“An intelligent bird.”

“Milo.”

“Possibly a crow.”

“Milo.”

“With criminal experience.”

Clara took the golden key from her pocket and placed it on the table.

Milo stared at it.

“Where did you get that?”

“You gave it to me last night.”

“I did?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“You said you were too scared to carry it.”

Milo looked offended.

“I was not scared.”

“You hid behind a chair.”

“I was examining the chair.”

“You screamed when the chair moved.”

“It moved unexpectedly.”

Clara sighed.

“Can we focus?”

Milo nodded.

“Absolutely.”

He picked up the golden key.

It was small and strangely warm.

There was a symbol engraved on it.

A circle surrounded by thirteen tiny lines.

Milo frowned.

“That’s strange.”

“Yes.”

“Very strange.”

“Exactly.”

“Why are there thirteen lines?”

Clara smiled.

“Because the message said the clock would strike thirteen.”

Milo’s eyes widened.

“Clara.”

“What?”

“We have discovered the meaning of the number thirteen.”

“That was already obvious.”

Milo lowered his voice.

“Not to everyone.”

Clara pointed to the key.

“I think this key opens something.”

“Excellent deduction.”

“Thank you.”

“Where?”

“That’s what we need to find out.”

Milo stood up.

Then immediately sat down.

Clara looked confused.

“What are you doing?”

“I forgot my coat.”

“Why do you need your coat?”

“It’s detective work.”

“It’s summer.”

“Suspicious weather.”

“There’s nothing suspicious about the weather.”

“You haven’t investigated it.”

Before Clara could argue, the door burst open.

BANG!

A small man rushed inside.

He was wearing a bright green suit, a purple scarf, and a hat that was so enormous it appeared to have its own postal address.

Milo immediately pointed at him.

“You’re under arrest.”

The man froze.

“For what?”

“Being suspicious.”

“I’ve only been inside for three seconds!”

“Exactly.”

The man looked at Clara.

“Is he always this incompetent?”

Clara nodded.

“Unfortunately.”

Milo put his hands on his hips.

“I am standing right here.”

The man introduced himself as Mr. Percival Puddlewick.

He was the owner of the Bellwick Museum of Curious Objects.

Milo narrowed his eyes.

“Why are you here?”

Mr. Puddlewick pulled a folded letter from his pocket.

“I received this.”

Milo grabbed it.

Clara immediately said, “Don’t touch it!”

Milo froze.

“Why?”

“You touched the last mysterious letter.”

“Yes.”

“And?”

“Nothing happened.”

“Professor Tickwell disappeared.”

Milo considered this.

“That may be unrelated.”

“Milo.”

“Fine.”

He dropped the letter onto the table.

Clara unfolded it carefully.

Inside was another message.

THE SECOND GEAR IS WAITING WHERE THE DEAD TIMEKEEPER SLEEPS.

Nobody spoke.

Milo looked at Clara.

Clara looked at Mr. Puddlewick.

Mr. Puddlewick looked at Milo.

Milo looked at the ceiling.

“The dead timekeeper.”

Clara nodded.

“Who is that?”

Milo stood up dramatically.

“I know.”

Everyone stared at him.

Milo smiled.

“The mayor.”

Silence.

Clara slowly raised an eyebrow.

“Why would the mayor be the dead timekeeper?”

Milo hesitated.

“I don’t know.”

“Then why did you say it?”

“I wanted to see if you were paying attention.”

Clara stared at him.

“You have absolutely no idea.”

“That is what I said.”

Mr. Puddlewick cleared his throat.

“I think I know what the message means.”

Milo turned.

“Well?”

“The dead timekeeper is Samuel Bell.”

Clara frowned.

“Who was Samuel Bell?”

“Bellwick’s first clockmaker.”

Milo’s expression changed.

“Where is he buried?”

Mr. Puddlewick pointed toward the window.

“Old Bellwick Cemetery.”

Milo grabbed his coat.

“Then that’s where we’re going.”

Clara stood.

“Finally.”

Milo paused.

“Wait.”

“What?”

“Where’s my hat?”

Clara stared at him.

“You’re wearing it.”

Milo touched his head.

“Oh.”

The three of them left the police station.

They walked through Bellwick’s narrow streets toward the cemetery.

Milo walked in front.

Clara walked behind him.

Mr. Puddlewick walked behind Clara.

And a suspicious-looking pigeon followed all three of them.

Milo noticed it.

“Clara.”

“Yes?”

“We’re being followed.”

Clara looked around.

“By whom?”

Milo pointed.

The pigeon stared at them.

Clara frowned.

“That’s a bird.”

“Exactly.”

“Birds exist.”

“Not suspicious birds.”

“How do you know it’s suspicious?”

“It has criminal eyes.”

The pigeon suddenly flew away.

Milo pointed.

“See?”

“It flew.”

“Exactly what a criminal bird would do.”

Clara decided not to answer.

The cemetery was old and covered with twisted trees.

At the far end stood a large stone monument.

Samuel Bell’s grave.

Milo approached slowly.

The inscription read:

SAMUEL BELL
MASTER OF TIME
HEARD EVERY CLOCK
BUT NEVER HEARD HIS OWN

Milo stared at the words.

“That’s depressing.”

Clara examined the grave.

“Look.”

A small hole had been dug beside the stone.

Milo crouched.

“Someone has been here.”

Clara nodded.

Milo picked up a handful of dirt.

Clara immediately grabbed his wrist.

“Don’t eat it.”

“I wasn’t going to.”

“You were looking at it.”

“I was investigating.”

“With your mouth?”

Milo dropped the dirt.

Suddenly, they heard a noise.

Scratch.

Scratch.

Scratch.

Someone was moving behind the grave.

Milo whispered, “Stay here.”

Clara nodded.

Milo took one step forward.

Then another.

The scratching continued.

Milo raised his hands.

“Come out!”

Nothing happened.

“Come out immediately!”

Still nothing.

Milo looked at Clara.

“Maybe it doesn’t understand English.”

The scratching stopped.

Then something jumped out.

“AAAAAAAH!”

Milo screamed.

Clara screamed.

Mr. Puddlewick screamed.

The creature screamed.

Everyone screamed.

The creature turned out to be a very old man wearing a sleeping cap.

He stared at them.

“Why are you screaming?”

Milo pointed.

“You’re dead!”

The old man looked offended.

“I am not.”

“You’re in a cemetery!”

“So?”

“People in cemeteries are usually dead!”

“Usually?”

Milo hesitated.

“Well…”

The old man sighed.

“My name is Edgar Bell.”

Clara’s eyes widened.

“Bell?”

“Yes.”

“Are you related to Samuel Bell?”

Edgar nodded.

“He was my grandfather.”

Milo looked suspicious.

“Why were you digging beside his grave?”

Edgar held up a rusty shovel.

“I lost my cat.”

Everyone stared at him.

“Your cat?”

“Yes.”

“Inside the cemetery?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Because cats don’t respect property boundaries.”

A loud meow came from behind the grave.

Edgar smiled.

“There he is.”

A fat orange cat emerged.

It was carrying something in its mouth.

A golden object.

Milo’s eyes widened.

“The second gear!”

The cat dropped it.

CLANG.

Milo rushed forward.

But before he could grab it, a shadow moved between the trees.

Someone was watching them.

“Stop!” Milo shouted.

The figure ran.

Milo chased after them.

Unfortunately, he forgot that the cemetery contained graves.

He tripped over one.

Then another.

Then a decorative stone angel.

“Sorry!” he shouted at the angel.

Clara ran after him.

“Milo!”

“I’m catching the suspect!”

“You’ve fallen three times!”

“That’s part of the strategy!”

The figure disappeared behind a wall.

Milo reached the wall.

Nothing.

No person.

No footsteps.

No escape route.

Clara arrived.

“Where did they go?”

Milo pointed at the wall.

“Through there.”

“That’s a solid wall.”

“Then they must be a ghost.”

Clara stared at him.

Milo nodded.

“Finally, a reasonable explanation.”

Then they heard laughter.

Not from the clock.

From behind them.

The old man, Edgar Bell, was laughing.

Milo slowly turned.

“What?”

Edgar pointed at Milo.

“You really are the detective.”

“Yes.”

“I’ve heard stories.”

“Good stories?”

Edgar laughed harder.

“Mostly embarrassing ones.”

Milo frowned.

“That’s slander.”

“No, it’s history.”

Clara examined the second gear.

It was covered with strange symbols.

The same circle and thirteen lines from the golden key.

She held the gear next to the key.

The symbols matched.

Milo’s smile disappeared.

“That’s not a coincidence.”

“No,” Clara said.

Mr. Puddlewick stepped closer.

“Then what is it?”

Before Clara could answer, the clock tower rang in the distance.

DONG.

Everyone froze.

It was noon.

The clock should have rung twelve times.

But it rang again.

DONG.

Thirteen.

Milo’s face went pale.

“That’s impossible.”

The clock began laughing.

“HAAAAA-HA-HA-HA!”

Then the second gear in Clara’s hand began to vibrate.

The ground shook.

A crack appeared in Samuel Bell’s grave.

Edgar dropped his shovel.

“That wasn’t there before.”

Milo stepped backward.

“Everyone remain calm.”

The crack grew wider.

“Inspector,” Clara whispered.

“Yes?”

“I don’t think I can remain calm.”

“Neither can I.”

“You’re sweating.”

“That’s detective sweat.”

The grave suddenly opened.

Inside was a hidden staircase.

Milo stared down into darkness.

Clara looked at him.

Milo looked at Clara.

Mr. Puddlewick looked at both of them.

Edgar looked at his cat.

The cat looked bored.

Milo swallowed.

“Well.”

Clara sighed.

“We’re going down there, aren’t we?”

Milo nodded.

“Of course.”

“Why?”

“Because we are detectives.”

“You said this case was too dangerous.”

“That was before we found a secret staircase.”

“What’s the difference?”

“I’ve always wanted a secret staircase.”

Milo took the first step.

Then stopped.

“Clara.”

“What?”

“Do you think there are traps?”

“Probably.”

“Good.”

“Good?”

“Then we know we’re going in the right direction.”

They descended.

The staircase seemed to go on forever.

The walls were covered with old paintings of clocks.

Some showed clocks with twelve numbers.

Others showed clocks with thirteen.

One painting showed a clock with a face.

The face was smiling.

Milo stopped.

“That’s unsettling.”

Clara looked at it.

“Very.”

Milo leaned closer.

The painted clock suddenly blinked.

Milo screamed.

Clara screamed.

Mr. Puddlewick screamed.

Edgar’s cat yawned.

Milo pointed at the painting.

“IT MOVED!”

Clara stared.

The painting was completely still.

“I think you imagined it.”

“I did not!”

Milo took out his notebook.

“I’m writing that down.”

“What?”

“Evidence.”

“What are you writing?”

Milo showed her.

Painting possibly evil.

Clara rubbed her forehead.

At the bottom of the staircase, they found a massive wooden door.

The golden key fit perfectly.

Milo inserted it.

CLICK.

The door opened.

Beyond it was a secret underground room.

And inside the room were hundreds of clocks.

Small clocks.

Large clocks.

Round clocks.

Square clocks.

Clocks hanging from the ceiling.

Clocks sitting on tables.

Clocks built into the walls.

But every single clock showed the same time.

Thirteen minutes past midnight.

Milo stared.

“This is impossible.”

Clara stepped forward.

“Look at that.”

At the center of the room stood a large wooden table.

On it was a map of Bellwick.

Pinned to the map were thirteen golden gears.

Only two spaces were empty.

Milo’s heart began beating faster.

“The first gear.”

Clara held up the gear they had found.

“The second gear.”

She held up the other.

Milo looked at the map.

“Then there are eleven more.”

Suddenly, a voice came from behind them.

“Ten.”

Everyone turned.

Professor Archibald Tickwell stood in the doorway.

Milo stared at him.

“Professor!”

Clara stepped forward.

“You disappeared!”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

The professor smiled.

“Because I had to.”

Milo pointed at him.

“You’re the thief!”

“No.”

“You’re the murderer!”

“No!”

“You’re the mysterious criminal bird!”

“WHAT?”

Milo lowered his finger.

“Sorry.”

Professor Tickwell walked toward the table.

“You don’t understand.”

“Then explain.”

The professor looked at the thirteen golden gears.

“These gears are not ordinary gears.”

Clara frowned.

“What are they?”

Professor Tickwell’s expression became serious.

“They control the original mechanism hidden beneath Bellwick.”

Milo blinked.

“The original mechanism?”

“The first clock ever built beneath this town.”

Clara stared at him.

“Why?”

The professor looked toward the clocks.

“Because Bellwick was not built around the clock.”

He paused.

“The clock was built around Bellwick.”

Nobody spoke.

Then every clock in the room began ticking.

Tick.

Tick.

Tick.

Milo slowly backed away.

“Professor.”

“Yes?”

“Why are there only twelve gears?”

The professor looked confused.

“What?”

Milo pointed.

There were thirteen spaces on the map.

But only twelve golden gears remained.

Professor Tickwell’s face suddenly went white.

“That’s impossible.”

Clara stared at him.

“You said there were thirteen.”

“There should be.”

Milo looked around.

“Then where is the thirteenth?”

A loud laugh echoed through the underground room.

“HAAAAA-HA-HA-HA!”

The lights went out.

Clara grabbed Milo’s arm.

“Milo!”

“I’m here!”

“Where is Professor Tickwell?”

Milo reached out.

“I don’t know!”

A voice whispered beside his ear.

“One gear is already awake.”

Milo froze.

Then something cold touched his shoulder.

He screamed.

Clara screamed.

Mr. Puddlewick screamed.

Edgar screamed.

The cat finally screamed.

The lights came back.

Professor Tickwell was gone again.

But this time, something else had changed.

The map was burning.

And written across Bellwick in glowing red letters were four words:

THE THIEF IS AMONG YOU.

Milo looked at Clara.

Clara looked at Mr. Puddlewick.

Mr. Puddlewick looked at Edgar.

Edgar looked at the cat.

The cat looked at Milo.

Milo pointed at the cat.

“Don’t even think about it.”

The cat hissed.

Milo jumped behind Clara.

“That cat knows something.”

Then the underground door slammed shut.

BANG!

Everyone rushed toward it.

Locked.

Milo tried the golden key.

Nothing.

Clara pulled the handle.

Nothing.

Mr. Puddlewick pushed.

Nothing.

Edgar kicked it.

Nothing.

The cat walked over.

It touched the door with one paw.

CLICK.

The door opened.

Everyone stared.

The cat walked out.

Milo slowly turned toward Clara.

“Clara.”

“Yes?”

“That cat is definitely a criminal.”

The cat disappeared into the darkness.

Milo and Clara followed.

Behind them, the thirteen clocks began ticking faster.

And somewhere deep beneath Bellwick, something enormous began to wake.

Tick.

Tick.

Tick.

Then came the sound of a thirteenth bell.

DONG.

Milo stopped walking.

Clara stopped beside him.

Neither of them spoke.

Because they both understood the terrible truth.

The mysterious thief was not stealing the gears to destroy the clock.

The thief was collecting them.

And when all thirteen gears were finally brought together…

The clock would not simply laugh.

It would wake.