The Mystery Of The Missing Moonberry Pie

Tessa Quill noticed things.

She noticed when Mr. Wren wore two different socks.

She noticed when the library clock was three minutes slow.

And she once found Mrs. Bumble’s missing spectacles on top of Mrs. Bumble’s own head.

So when someone shouted, “THE PIE IS GONE!” Tessa was already reaching for her notebook.

It was the afternoon of the Moonlight Picnic, and the whole cove smelled of warm bread, berry jam, and cinnamon.

At the centre of the picnic table, there was supposed to be one enormous Moonberry Pie.

Every year, Baker Bea made it from purple moonberries, flaky pastry, and a secret pinch of something she refused to name.

“Maybe nutmeg,” people guessed.

“Maybe magic,” children whispered.

Whatever it was, everyone waited all year for a slice.

But now the silver pie stand was empty.

Baker Bea stared at it.

“I put the pie there ten minutes ago!”

Tessa opened her notebook.

“Then we have a ten-minute mystery.”

Her best friend, Milo Finch, hurried over carrying two lemonade cups.

“Are we investigating?”

“We are.”

“Excellent.” Milo drank both lemonades.

Tessa examined the table.

There were no crumbs.

No purple fingerprints.

No dropped napkins.

But beneath the table, she found something.

“A feather!”

Milo gasped.

It was small, grey, and fluffy.

They both looked toward Mr. Wren.

Mr. Wren kept pigeons.

Twenty-three of them.

And earlier that morning, he had loudly announced that pigeons were “excellent judges of
pastry.”

“Suspicious,” whispered Milo.

Tessa wrote:

CLUE ONE: GREY FEATHER.

They hurried to Mr. Wren’s garden.

He was scattering seeds while his pigeons strutted around his boots.

“Did you take Baker Bea’s Moonberry Pie?” Tessa asked.

Mr. Wren looked horrified.

“Certainly not!”

A pigeon landed on his shoulder.

“Did your pigeons take it?”

Mr. Wren looked even more horrified.

“Certainly not! Gerald is watching his sugar.”

The pigeon cooed.

Tessa inspected the flock.

Not one pigeon had purple berry stains on its beak.

“Not Mr. Wren,” she decided.

Back at the picnic table, Milo spotted something beside the empty pie stand.

“Aha!”

It was a streak of bright blue paint.

Tessa wrote:

CLUE TWO: BLUE PAINT.

Only one person had been painting that day.

Nico Bell was decorating wooden signs for the picnic.

When Tessa and Milo found him, his hands were blue.

His elbows were blue.

There was even a blue smudge on his nose.

“You look suspicious,” Milo told him.

“I look painted,” said Nico.

Tessa explained about the missing pie.

Nico shook his head. “I haven't been near it. I've been painting signs all afternoon.”

Tessa looked around.

Every sign was blue.

So was the bench.

So was the handle of the old wheelbarrow beside it.

Tessa stopped.

“Why did you paint the wheelbarrow?”

“I didn't,” said Nico. “I bumped it with my brush when I carried the signs outside.”

Tessa crouched beside it.

One handle had fresh blue paint.

The wheelbarrow was empty.

But one wheel was coated with something dark and sticky.

Tessa touched it carefully.

Purple.

“Moonberry juice,” she said.

Milo's eyes widened.

“A runaway pie!”

“Pies don't run.”

“This one had a wheelbarrow.”

They followed the wheel tracks.

Across the grass.

Behind the picnic tables.

Past the fountain.

Then—

the tracks disappeared.

Milo groaned. “Our runaway pie has escaped.”

Tessa studied the ground.

The wheelbarrow tracks had stopped beside a row of bushes.

But something else continued beyond them.

Two thin lines pressed into the dirt.

Tessa smiled.

“Not escaped.”

She wrote:

CLUE THREE: TWO DRAG MARKS.

They followed the marks around the bushes.

A muffled voice came from behind the garden shed.

“Almost... got it...”

Tessa and Milo hurried around the corner.

There stood little Ollie Moss.

Beside him was a red picnic wagon.

Inside the wagon sat the missing Moonberry Pie.

Or most of it.

One side had collapsed into a purple, sticky heap.

Ollie's eyes filled with tears.

“I didn't steal it!”

Tessa closed her notebook.

“I believe you.”

Ollie explained.

He had been helping set out picnic blankets when he saw the pie table wobbling.

One leg was sinking into the soft grass.

He worried the giant pie would fall.

So he decided to move it somewhere safer.

The pie was too heavy to carry.

He found the wheelbarrow.

But as he lifted the pie onto it, the wheelbarrow rolled downhill.

Ollie chased it.

It bumped over a stone.

The pie slid sideways.

Then the wheelbarrow crashed gently into the bushes.

Ollie had managed to rescue the pie with the little red wagon, but one side was squashed.

“I was trying to fix it before anyone saw,” he whispered.

Milo looked at the lopsided pie.

“It looks like a purple mountain sat on it.”

Ollie sniffed.

“Exactly.”

Tessa thought about the clues.

The feather had blown under the table from Mr. Wren's pigeons.

The blue paint came from the wheelbarrow handle.

The purple wheel led them to the truth.

But there was one more problem.

“You should have told Baker Bea what happened,” Tessa said gently.

“I thought everyone would be angry.”

“People usually get angrier when they don't know the truth.”

Ollie nodded.

Together, they pulled the wagon back to the picnic.

Baker Bea listened to the whole story.

Then she looked at her magnificent, squashed Moonberry Pie.

Everyone waited.

Finally, she picked up a spoon.

“Well,” she said, “it won't win any prizes for being round.”

She scooped some filling back into place.

“But I don't remember inviting the Queen of Perfect Pies.”

Ollie blinked.

“There's a Queen of Perfect Pies?”

“No,” said Baker Bea. “Which is fortunate, because she'd be terribly annoying.”

Ollie laughed.

Soon everyone was helping.

Someone brought whipped cream.

Someone else brought berries.

Milo suggested covering the entire disaster with marshmallows.

His suggestion was rejected.

Mostly.

By the time the moon rose over the cove, the ruined pie had become dozens of little Moonberry Mess cups filled with pastry pieces, berries, cream, and a few carefully approved marshmallows.

Baker Bea handed the first cup to Ollie.

“For trying to help.”

The second went to Tessa.

“For finding the truth.”

“And me?” asked Milo.

Baker Bea handed him a cup.

“For drinking two lemonades during an investigation.”

Milo nodded seriously.

“Detective work is thirsty work.”

Tessa opened her notebook one last time.

Under THE CASE OF THE MISSING MOONBERRY PIE, she wrote:

SOLVED.

Then she added:

Important detective rule: clues tell you what happened. They don't always tell you who to blame.

She closed the notebook.

Across the picnic, lanterns glowed, people laughed, and everyone agreed that Moonberry Mess tasted even better than perfect pie.

Milo scraped the bottom of his cup.

“Do you think anything else will disappear tonight?”

Tessa looked at the dessert table.

“Possibly.”

Three Moonberry Mess cups were already missing.

Milo wiped purple cream from his chin.

Tessa sighed.

Some mysteries were easier than others.