The Potter Book Mystery

Written by Moe Zilla, Published on 2/4/2009, Re-published on 8/11/2010

Cupcake, an orange cat, curled up in a dark corner of the dark musty bookstore.

For years Uncle Ezra had been smiling as customers came into his store, helping them find books and ringing up their selections on his ancient cash register. A little bell rang over the door every time a new customer came in, which made the shop seem cheerful. With his long grey hair, Ezra looked almost as old as the books themselves. But he was young at heart. He sold new books as well old books -- and especially well-loved books.

And soon he’d be involved in a mystery story of his own ...

For me, Uncle Ezra's first recommendation had been “Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone” -- he knew more about books than anybody. If you told him what you liked, he'd recommend something wonderful, and it seemed like he could always find a copy of his recommendation somewhere in his store.

Some of Uncle Ezra’s books were worth a lot of money.

Once Ezra had arrived at his store only to discover that during the night, the door had been kicked open. His most valuable books -- worth more than $15,000 -- were missing from the display case. Within an hour a police detective had arrived to gather details about the crime. “The crooks probably cased your store yesterday,” a police detective warned him casually, “while they'd pretended to be customers.” And that was that. The missing books were never found. After the theft, Uncle Ezra kept his most valuable books locked in a closet in the back of his store.

All except one.

Right over the cash register was a picture of Uncle Ezra with J.K. Rowling. She was so popular that he'd flown over 600 miles just to see her at a book signing appearance -- and she'd signed the first edition of her first Harry Potter book. That book had a special place next to his cash register, under a curvy glass cover that looked almost magical. Uncle Ezra loved to take the book out to show it to his customers -- to adults, to children, and especially to me.

Uncle Ezra was a real practical joker. He’d often pretend that he'd never heard of Harry Potter. “I just like the colorful book cover,” he’d tease. But everyone knew about his adoration for the Potter series. Most knew also about his signed first edition, too. In fact, once my friend, Rusty, described the store as that place “with the man who loves Harry Potter.” Two years ago, Ezra asked Rusty to name his favorite part of the book. After Rusty identified chapter 16 -- the wizard's chess match -- Ezra always left the book open to chapter 16.

And that book was the first thing I thought about this morning -- when I saw a police car parked in front of Uncle Ezra's bookstore.

All the glass had been broken on the front window, and Cupcake hid in the corner while two policemen examined the scene of the crime. I could see them questioning Ezra as I watched through the broken window with Rusty (and his older sister Ann). We all loved the Harry Potter books, and Rusty seemed especially sad when he saw the broken window -- like someone had just robbed him. That book had been special to both of us. Ann understood how much this meant to Uncle Ezra -- though she pretended like she was only interested in his cat. Ann always acted uninterested in Uncle Ezra's rare book – she refused to let Rusty tell her anything about it. Rusty suspected that she was secretly jealous.

We saw Uncle Ezra in an old, worn-out sweater, looking tired behind the cash register. He sent Alfred to get a piece of plywood so they could board up the window. (Alfred was an elderly handyman who worked in the store in the mornings helping Ezra move the heavy boxes of books.) A tall police officer listened, without smiling, while Ezra began describing the crime. The unfriendly police officer wore a clean, black uniform and black boots. He took notes in a little black notebook. But it looked like the same notebook as last time -- when the police never caught the robber. I muttered to my friends, “I hope things turn out differently this time.”

When the police officer left the shop, Uncle Ezra had a strange look on his face. He didn't look sad or happy -- just tired. We ran over to his counter, and saw the empty case where his book used to be. “Did they steal it, Uncle Ezra?” I asked. “Did they steal your copy of ‘Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone?’”

Uncle Ezra looked thoughtfully at us children. He the looked suspiciously around the store. There was no one there yet -- there were no customers, and the police officer had left. Ezra leaned forward, and whispered “Can you keep a secret?” I nodded yes, but he looked sternly at my two friends, who quickly nodded their heads. “Promise not to tell?” Ezra teased. We all nodded again, and then he leaned forward even more, until his face was just a few inches away. And then he whispered ...

“They stole a decoy,” he smiled.

He laughed so loud that he woke up Cupcake, who glared from the corner before curling up for a nap.

“I got the idea while reading a paperback mystery,” Uncle Ezra said proudly. “The electronics store sells a special transmitter tag that broadcasts to a receiver.” Ezra showed us how he'd hid the tag inside the book's spine, and said he'd given the police the special receiver. “If they drive around the neighborhood, they should be able to find the thief!”

Ezra was smiling from ear to ear. He sat on a tall stool behind the counter to wait for his phone to ring. “I feel like Batman!” he said proudly. He reached under the counter and pulled out the real Harry Potter book -- which he'd tucked in a cabinet underneath his cash register. He'd been hiding it there every night -- and leaving his rigged “decoy” book under the display glass instead. “If I'd left the real book open, it would've damaged the spine,” Ezra said smugly, “but none of my customers ever knew the difference!”

Ezra showed us the author's autograph, but then closed the book and happily hid it in the middle of a stack of books sitting beside the register, and soon Alfred had come back from the store with an enormous piece of plywood. Without saying a word, Alfred began nailing to the window's frame so it covered the hole where the glass was broken.

Suddenly Uncle Ezra got a worried look on his face. “Where's Cupcake?”

“He must be in the store someplace,” Ann said. But when we looked around, we couldn't find him. And then Uncle Ezra stared at his window. “I never let Cupcake outside, so he's fascinated by the sidewalk. That hole in the window could've made him curious. But with all that traffic out there, if Cupcake tries to cross the street …”

Ann ran out of the bookstore, shouting “Cupcake!” Rusty and I followed her out the door.

Uncle Ezra sprang into action, putting the “closed” sign up on his door. “You look that way,” Uncle Ezra told me, “and Rusty, you look that way. I'll check in the basement. Maybe he's hiding down in the dark.”

I ran to the corner, carefully peeking behind every trashcan. But there was nothing out of the ordinary, and I hurried back to the store. Ann was already there, out of breath and looking worried. She'd sat in front of the store crying the cat’s name loud enough so that the whole neighborhood could hear her. Soon Rusty came in. “I looked everywhere,” Rusty said, “but Cupcake's gone!”

Just then Uncle Ezra came up from the basement. “Ta-dah!” he said, cradling Cupcake in his arms. Cupcake was wearing a tiny blue wizard's hat that was covered with silver stars. “When I found Cupcake downstairs, I decided it called for a celebration!” said Uncle Ezra proudly. Cupcake looked annoyed.

“How long did you make him wear the hat?” Ann asked.

Ezra laughed, and stroked Cupcake's fur with his skinny fingers. He leaned close to the cat and said “Now you look just like Harry Potter.” But then he looked carefully at his counter, and his face twisted into a horrified look. “My book!” he shouted. “The real one! Someone stole it from that stack of books!”

Sure enough, the stack of books was still there, but without the autographed first edition that he'd stuck in the middle. This time it wasn't a decoy book that was missing. It was the real thing!

That night, I returned to Uncle Ezra's store. The police had arrested the first thief -- a surly loner who'd wanted to sell the book so he'd have enough money to buy a car. But that wouldn't help uncle Ezra now. He looked suspiciously at Rusty, and even Ann, and I knew he was wondering if one of us had stolen his favorite book. While we'd searched for his cat, any one of us could've grabbed the book, hidden it, and then snatched it back up again later.

But there was another suspect -- Alfred the handyman. He'd been nailing up the plywood shortly before the book disappeared. And then the strangest thing happened. As we were leaving the store, Uncle Ezra pointed to a package on his counter. It was wrapped in plain brown paper, and Ezra wasn't sure where it came from. “Alfred said somebody dropped it off this afternoon.” He peeled open the package, and then his eyes lit with joy.

It was “Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone” -- the first edition, autographed by J.K. Rowling. And there was a handwritten note tucked into chapter 16. “Sorry I stole your book,” it read.

“This time, don't call the police,” I told Uncle Ezra. “Your thief was somebody I've met -- and I've already figured out who it is.”