“The name’s McKinney. Mickie McKinney. I'm a gumshoe, a private eye to those who speak my lingo and a detective to those that don’t. I'll find your cat or bust the monster under your bed, and I ain’t afraid of the dark either.”
Mickie McKinney is Maple Ridge Middle School's one and only private detective. (Not that anyone else wants the title). When the new girl in school is blamed for stealing the history test answers, Mickie is the only one that suspects that she might be innocent and begins to investigate. With the help of an orange smudge, some chocolate, and the school's science genius, Burners, Mickie is able to unmask the real culprit and bring justice to the new girl. He even makes a friend along the way.
“The name’s McKinney. Mickie McKinney. I'm a gumshoe, a private eye to those who speak my lingo and a detective to those that don’t. I'll find your cat or bust the monster under your bed, and I ain’t afraid of the dark either.”
Mickie McKinney is Maple Ridge Middle School's one and only private detective. (Not that anyone else wants the title). When the new girl in school is blamed for stealing the history test answers, Mickie is the only one that suspects that she might be innocent and begins to investigate. With the help of an orange smudge, some chocolate, and the school's science genius, Burners, Mickie is able to unmask the real culprit and bring justice to the new girl. He even makes a friend along the way.
The name’s McKinney. Mickie McKinney. I'm a gumshoe, a private eye to those who speak my lingo, and a detective to those that don’t. I'll find your cat or bust the monster under your bed, and I ain’t afraid of the dark either. But I'm getting ahead of myself. I was sitting with my size-six shoes propped up on the corner of my battered desk, watching the bubbles from my pipe floating toward the water-stained ceiling above my head, when there was a knock at the door and it opened to reveal the client; her slender form a silhouette framed by the light of the hallway.
Any other guy would’ve fallen for her the instant she stepped timidly in the room, and I must confess my heart beat a little faster as she spoke to me for the first time.
“Mr. McKinney?” she breathed. Blonde and blue-eyed, she was prettier than the soap bubbles over my head, but the tear in her eye said that she was a damsel in distress who needed my help.
I leaned forward, a little breathless myself, waiting for her next words.
“Can you tell me what year Maple Ridge was founded and its main source of income?”
Definitely not what I was expecting.
My client rapped her knuckles on my desk and the dingy office I was sitting in melted away as my daydream was replaced with reality. The peeling wallpaper of my dingy office was replaced with a chalkboard, the city outside my window turned back into a collection of badly drawn maps from different artists. My scarred oak desk shrank to less than a third of its size and my well-worn suit transformed back into the jeans and t-shirt I had put on that morning before school. My damsel transformed into the stern Miss Caverly, my seventh-grade history teacher, and I could suddenly hear the snickering of my classmates at Maple Ridge Middle School.
A young damsel she was not. Miss Caverly was wrinkled as a prune and skinny as a scarecrow, with a short crop of blond hair on her head the same color as straw. With her beak-like nose only a foot away from mine, I could smell her breakfast of sardines, avocado and prune juice, a combination that usually required a bathroom break during class.
Dressed in green cardigan and slacks, Miss Caverly looked comfortable, like an eccentric aunt you wouldn’t mind introducing to your friends. And as long as you didn’t get on her bad side, she was an okay gal. Too bad for me, I’d been caught daydreaming in class, and she was not happy.
“Mr. McKinney,” she said, crossing her scrawny arms, “I asked you to name the year when our town, Maple Ridge was founded and its main source of income.
“Perhaps instead of daydreaming in class you should pay attention so you can answer the ques—"
“Maple Ridge was technically founded in 1880 when the first Maple syrup factory was built by Theodore P. Burns,” I answered before she could finish. “From 1880 until now, the main source of income for Maple Ridge, Vermont is Maple-based products.” I was a dreamer, but I did occasionally open a textbook. And even if I didn’t, I knew all the landmarks, thanks to my dad driving me around in his police cruiser before … before the accident.
As for Miss Caverly, you’d think my answering correctly would’ve returned her sunny disposition, but she merely sighed and turned away.
“That is correct Mr. McKinney. But in the future could you answer the question the first time I ask you?”
A few kids chuckled as she said that, quieting down just as quickly when she gave them a beady eyed glare.
Still on the warpath, she snatched a bag of Cheese Nubs off the desk of one of the bigger kids, Tommy Tubbins, who was sitting three desks away.
“Mr. Tubbins,” she scolded, “May I remind you that there is no eating in class?”
“Aww, come on, Miss Caverly,” he whined. “It’s almost lunchtime.”
“That’s right, it is.” She said, placing the bag on her desk. “And you can either wait for lunch patiently, like the rest of us, or do another day of detention.”
Further argument was cut short when there was a knock on the door and our Assistant Principal, Mrs. Lewis, popped her head in. Plump as Ms. Caverly was lean, Mrs. Lewis wore a bright purple and pink dress suit that left her looking as round and colorful as an Easter egg. Her hair was pulled back into an elaborate bun that reminded me of a beehive and seemed to balance precariously on top of her head.
“Good afternoon, Miss Caverly,” she cooed, “I’ve got a new student for you.”
She opened the door wider to usher in … a girl. Tall, with blonde hair tied back into a ponytail, she looked like the damsel in distress from my daydreams.
Except for the combat boots and fatigues.
“Boys, girls, meet your new classmate.” Mrs. Lewis smiled, pushing the new girl to the front of the room. “Her parents have just been transferred from Fort Carson in Colorado. Isn’t that exciting?”
No one responded. Even the new girl seemed more interested in the toes of her boots.
“Sweetie.” Mrs. Lewis, continued to smile cheerfully, but it seemed forced. “Maybe you would like to say a few words?”
The girl looked briefly up from her feet. “Hey,” she muttered.
“Anything else?” Mrs. Lewis asked. “You could tell everyone a little bit about yourself.”
“No,” the girl said.
The tense silence was, thankfully, broken as the bell rang, announcing the end of class. Students packed their notebooks and pencils into their backpacks, slinging their burdens over their shoulders as they headed towards the doors.
“All right students.” Miss Caverly looked like she wanted to head for the door with the rest of us and grab her usual bathroom break, but she stayed obediently by Mrs. Lewis and the new girl. “That’s all for today! Remember, we have a test next Friday on our town’s history!”
No one seemed to hear, but, then again, Miss Caverly had been reminding us about it all week.
Mrs. Lewis seemed to be introducing the new girl to Miss Caverly, though the girl continued to look at her boots.
As I made my way to the front of the room, some jerk pushed me, and I stumbled. I panicked, arms pinwheeling, about to face plant right in front of the new girl.
Except I didn’t.
She simply snatched the strap of my bag out of the air and hauled me back to my feet as though it were nothing.
“Thanks.”
“Careful,” She replied. Her eyes, brown and green, briefly met mine, then we both looked away.
“Did you need something, Mr. McKinney?” Miss Caverly asked.
“No ma’am,” I said, tipping my hat and slipping out the door.
Mickie McKinney isn’t your average middle schooler. He’s also a private detective. From identifying mystery meat in the lunchroom to finding lost cats, Mickie is Maple Ridge’s go-to PI for all things middle-school mystery related. And he does it all for payment in candy bars. With the help of a few others, like the school’s science genius, Burners, Mickie’s got his business set up pretty well.
When a new girl arrives, Mickie’s intrigued by her. And he is determined to help her when she’s accused of stealing test answers. He immediately suspects she’s not the culprit and sets out to find the real thief.
He’s determined to get justice for the new girl, whether she likes it or not. (And this girl isn’t the type of needs help). Will he be able to figure out who really stole the test answers? And will the new girl be as grateful as he hopes?
Mickie McKinney is a middle-grade novel with a bit of old-school charm. Mickie’s a gumshoe private eye who solves middle school related cases as he works his way to adulthood. The language in the book was age appropriate as was the story line. The pacing is well-crafted to hold a youngster’s attention.
The character of Mickie is well-crafted to appeal to the age group. The new girl character is a bit of an enigma and I’d be interested to see how she develops as the series movies forward. She’s no shrinking violet, which makes her a great addition to Mickie’s team (if he can convince her to become allies). I also liked the empowered female role.
There were a few typos and grammatical issues, but it didn’t detract from the well-developed plot and endearing characters. I’d recommend this book and series to anyone looking for books that would appeal to readers of Nancy Drew or the Hardy Boys.
Fans of those series will enjoy the mystery aspect of the book and be captivated by the fun storyline.