Oct 11, 2016 4 min read

The story so far: Robyn and her reporters are covering the Election Day news. They’ve just learned that the ballot box is missing.

“What do you mean the ballot box is gone?” I ask.

“Someone stole it!” Corinna says.

“Why would someone steal a ballot box?”

“I don’t know,” Corinna says. “It was here one minute. Then, they got stuck in the voting booth …”

I think about what Corinna just said.

“Wait!” I say. “Who got stuck in the voting booth?”

She looks down at her notebook.

“It was Andre Allen and Rose Feliz,” Corinna says. “They both wanted to be the first one to vote. They ran for the voting booth and got stuck.”

I think about Mr. Allen and Mrs. Feliz, squeezed into the voting booth. Now that is a funny picture.

“Did you get a picture of that?” I ask.

Corinna nods, and I smile in approval.

“So then what happened to the ballot box?” I ask.

“No one knows,” she says. “They finally got them unstuck, and then the ballot box was gone.”

A missing ballot box on Election Day. This is big news. I take out my notebook. There’s no time to waste.

“Do we have any clues?” I ask.

“We just started looking,” Corinna says. “Logan is interviewing the Election Day volunteers. I’ve been checking out the scene of the crime.”

“Good thinking,” I say. “I’m going to help Logan. You keep looking.”

Corinna is a first-rate investigator. If there are any clues, she will find them. I walk over to the election table. Logan is interviewing one of the volunteers.

“Do you need any help?” I ask.

“I still need to interview Mrs. McMillan,” he says. “She was checking people in when the ballot box went missing.”

I see Mrs. McMillan standing at the end of the table.

“Good morning, Mrs. McMillan,” I say. “How are you?”

Mrs. McMillan is one of my mom’s best friends. She loves The Robyn Report and gives me tips on good stories in the neighborhood.

“Hi, Robyn dear,” she says. “It’s good to see you on the case.”

Mrs. McMillan is nice, but there’s no time for small talk. I have a mystery to solve.

“I need to ask you a few questions,” I say.

“Of course, dear,” she says. “What would you like to know?”

“Where were you when the ballot box was stolen?” I ask. She points to the election table.

“I was checking people in,” she says. “It’s my job to check voters in and then have them sign their name.”

“Were you doing this by yourself?” I ask.

“Yes,” she says. “Well, my mother came to help, but she was working on her poetry instead.”

Everyone knows Mrs. McMillan’s mother. She is the biggest practical joker in the neighborhood. She loves April Fools’ Day. Elle has lived in the neighborhood all her life. She’s been here more than 80 years.

“Elle writes poetry?” I ask.

Everyone calls Mrs. McMillan’s mom Elle because her name is Eleanor.

“She’s very good,” Mrs. McMillan says. “She reads me a poem every night before she goes to bed.”

Elle has lived with Mrs. McMillan ever since her husband died. I ask Mrs. McMillan some more questions. She doesn’t have much to help the case. I go back over to Corinna.

“You got anything?” I ask.

“No one saw anything,” she says. “I don’t know how a ballot box could just disappear like that.”

“So you didn’t find any clues?”

“Nope,” she says. “The only thing I found was a piece of paper with a silly little rhyme on it.”

“What?” I ask.

“It was nothing,” Corinna says.

“Where is it?”

“I threw it away,” Corinna says.

I run over to the trashcan.

“Is this the right one?” I ask. Corinna looks at me with one raised eyebrow.

“Are you okay?” she asks. “You are digging in the garbage. That is so gross!”

I pick up a piece of paper on top of the trash. I read it and smile.

“I know exactly who stole the ballot box,” I say.