CHAPTER ONE
Missing Socks

It was a lovely morning in Berp. The sun had just risen, birds flew from branch to branch, and the postman was on his morning rounds . . . 

 . . . when suddenly, a loud howl pierced the calm of the morning.

"Noooooo!!!"

It was Awesome Possum.

"Dino! My sock! My Butch Malone sock! It's missing!"

Plant watched from the windowsill as Dino rushed to Possum's side. "Another one?"

"This isn't just another one, Dino! I saved cereal box tokens for five weeks to get these socks. I've worn them so much that one had a giant hole in it."

Losing socks wasn't normally a big thing---it happened every once in a while. But recently, the problem had been getting worse. At first it had been one or two a week. Now socks were disappearing so often that they couldn't keep count.

For Dino, it wasn't a big deal. If one sock was missing, she just mixed and matched. It was a great opportunity to try some fresh new looks.

For Possum, it was a different story. He wasn't the kind of possum that walked around in odd socks. He liked his socks matching, thank you very much. The good thing was that, usually, pairing matching socks wasn't a problem.

But now the worst had happened. The one pair that was different, his favorite Butch Malone socks . . . one was missing.

Possum had seen the commercials on TV. Special, limited edition Butch Malone socks, said to be worn by the great man himself.

"This is bad, Dino. Really bad."

"We'll find it, Possum. It can't have gone far."

They checked all over their bedroom. They checked under the beds and on top of wardrobes, in closets and in drawers. But they found only what Possum already knew: Nothing. The sock was gone.

"Something is strange here, Dino," said Possum. "I can smell it."

"Oh," said Dino, slightly embarrassed. "That might be my feet. I've been wearing these socks for four days in a row now."

Never mind the smell, Possum thought. This sounds like a case for:

DINO DETECTIVE & AWESOME POSSUM,
PRIVATE EYES


CHAPTER TWO
Data Analysis

Dino and Possum searched for a pattern. The socks that were missing: Were they a particular color, material, or size? When had they gone missing? Was it on a particular day of the week, or at a certain time of day? Were other people's socks missing, too?

It turned out that socks of every type and color were missing. There were left socks and right socks, short socks and long socks. They went missing on random days of the week, and from different places throughout the house.

Possum sighed and turned to his sister. "Is it just our socks? Or does this case go bigger?"

Possum had been on the lookout for the next Big Case for a while, the case that would finally put the agency on the map. They had been working a few small--time cases recently. The mystery of Samuel Crokus's missing homework? Easy. Who framed Trogdor for unicycle theft? That was simple, too.
But now it seemed like a case was falling right into Possum's lap like a giant pile of dirty socks. Their socks. Gone. Stolen in the night by some fiend, some criminal. Who knew what could be happening to them? Who knew the mind of the thief? Maybe they would get a ransom note soon. Maybe they would see their socks on TV on the feet of a masked villain. Possum's eyes lit up as he realized that this had all the trappings of a Big Case . . . 

 . . . But the investigation was halted by Dad's voice booming from downstairs. "Possum! Dino! You're going to be late for school! Come down and have some breakfast!"

Unlike Dino, Possum thought that breakfast was an unnecessary distraction. But the list of people who knew about their socks was short. Perhaps they needed to speak to witnesses . . .
 
Possum and Dino headed downstairs with Plant. "Dad, have you been missing any socks recently?" asked Dino.

Dad didn't look up from his paper. "Missing socks? Sure! Socks go missing all the time; it's no great mystery." He chuckled and continued reading.

"But more and more socks are missing!" said Possum. "If this continues, I---"

"If this continues, you're going to be late for school," said Dad. "Eat your breakfast and get ready for the bus."

Next, Dino and Possum asked Mom. No dice. Just like Dad, she didn't want to talk about missing socks, either. "They must be somewhere, Dino. Socks don't grow legs and walk off. You need to be more careful with your things. Now get yourselves ready for school!"

"But, Mom, we're on a Big Case! This is a serious investi---"

"Well, you can take your Serious Investigation to SCHOOL!"

The only other person who might know something about their socks was Grandma Thunderclaps, but she had just left for a knitting conference that morning.

With no other witnesses to speak to, Dino and Possum trudged out the door as the school bus pulled up.

"No one is taking this problem seriously, Dino," said Possum. "You know what that means?"

"That they are all in on it, and trying to throw us off the scent?"

"What? No! It means that we're on our own. But what do we do? We have no clues, no witnesses, no leads."

"We need more information," sighed Dino. "I'll talk to kids at school, find out just how big this laundry load is. Someone out there must know something. What about you?"

"Me?" said Possum. "I'm going to the Brain Trust."

Dino rolled her eyes as she headed to the back seat of the bus.

---

Excerpted from The Case of the Missing Socks #2 by Tadgh Bentley
All rights reserved by the original copyright owners. Excerpts are provided for display purposes only and may not be reproduced, reprinted or distributed without the written permission of the publisher.