By Carla Cuthbert
"Go ahead, sheriff," Lindsey said, fetching her spiral-bound detective notebook.
The sheriff took off his hat. "I'm sure both of you know that our town's beloved librarian, Beatrice Mapplethorpe, was buried last week," he said. "Yesterday, someone"―he paused, wiping the sweat from his forehead ―"some sicko defaced her grave."
"Gosh, what did they do?" Cody and Lindsey cried out in unison.
"They spray-painted 'Here lies a Satan-worshipping whore' on her headstone," the sheriff said, his voice quaking. "That's what they did."
Cody put down his mug of hot chocolate. "Interesting," he said. "Is there any chance Miss Mapplethorpe was, in fact, in the service of the Dark Lord?"
"And also a prostitute?" Lindsey chipped in. "Perhaps a crack-smoking prostitute?"
The sheriff gasped. "No, no. Miss Mapplethorpe was a good, God-fearing woman!"
"Why would she fear God so much?" Cody inquired.
"Good point!" Lindsey exclaimed. "Maybe she felt guilty for all those stupid library fines she gave me!"
"Or maybe she regretted telling my parents about that book on whiskey distillation that I tried to check out!" Cody said.
The sheriff sighed. "Cody and Lindsey," he said, "for a teen mystery-solving duo, you're not helping me very much."
"Oh really?" Lindsey said. "Sheriff, I couldn't help noticing that you wiped your brow with a red handkerchief. Care to explain that?"
Sheriff Johnson could not explain the redness of his handkerchief, much less what that had to do with the defacing of Miss Mapplethorpe's grave. And thus, the mystery only deepened.
(Be sure to read the first of Cody and Lindsey's exciting adventures!)