The Kite Mystery. Mary Adrian

got down on her hands and knees and studied the prints closely. “Now we don’t know who killed the trumpeters.”

      “That’s right,” answered Allen. “We don’t.”

      He pulled a chewed-up pencil and a piece of paper out of his pocket. His mother’s old grocery list was written on it, but Allen decided he would jot down the clues on the other side.

      Duke and Linda watched over his shoulder as he scrawled in large letters: BROWN BUTTON, MAN’S FOOTPRINTS, TWO BLOODY WHITE FEATHERS, PAIR OF COYOTE TRACKS.

      “I can’t see what you wrote, Allen,” said Candy, standing on tiptoe. Then, realizing she could not read, she said to Linda, “You tell me.”

      Linda repeated what Allen had written, and Duke said to him, “Good work. I’m relying on you to keep track of the evidence.”

      Allen looked pleased. “I’ll rewrite the clues in a notebook later.”

      “Yes, you do that,” said Duke. “We’ve got to work fast if we’re going to save the other swans.”

      Linda tugged at her brothers sleeve. “We’d better tell Daddy what happened.”

      Duke nodded. “It’s going to be tough to break the news to him. Well, come on, gang. Let’s move.”

      “Yes. Let’s,” said Linda. Then she added softly to herself, “I’ll make another wish tonight that nobody kills the other trumpeters.”