VIKING

  An imprint of Penguin Random House LLC, New York

  First published in the United States of America by Viking,

  an imprint of Penguin Random House LLC, 2023

  Copyright © 2023 by Veronica Mang

  Penguin supports copyright. Copyright fuels creativity, encourages diverse voices, promotes free speech, and creates a vibrant culture. Thank you for buying an authorized edition of this book and for complying with copyright laws by not reproducing, scanning, or distributing any part of it in any form without permission. You are supporting writers and allowing Penguin to continue to publish books for every reader.

  Viking & colophon are registered trademarks of Penguin Random House LLC.

  Visit us online at PenguinRandomHouse.com.

  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data is available.

  Ebook ISBN 9780593204429

  Cover illustrations © 2023 by Veronica Mang

  Cover design by Kate Renner

  Design by Kate Renner, adapted for ebook by Andrew Wheatley

  The art for this book was made using graphite and gouache, and then colored digitally.

  This book is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real places are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, and events are products of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual events or places or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content.

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  CONTENTS

  Cover

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  About Ciphers and Codes

  About the Other Lady Spies

  About the Author

  _142974854_

  For Phoebe, and all our giggles

  Far away from you, there is an ordinary town. In that town, the birds are chirping, the sun is shining, and upon first inspection, nothing would seem out of place. But in this ordinary town, there are peculiar figures and unusual happenings. In hot pursuit of these mysteries are three little girls named Peggy, Rita, and Dot. They, too, seem ordinary upon first inspection. But if you got to know them well and they began to trust you, you might learn something extraordinary: they were young spies in training, studying under the tutelage of a remarkable league of Lady Spies. The Lady Spies, who were famed for their wit and bravery, knew that ordinary settings made the best hiding places and had decided to create a special club right here in this seemingly boring town. It was the Secret Spy Society.

  Peggy, Rita, and Dot aspired to be just like the Lady Spies: assigned to clandestine missions, sent off to mysterious locales, and encouraged to mingle with the brightest and most mysterious figures of their time. But for now, they were known as the Petite Private Eyes.

  And today, they were just students. Right now they were—

  HONK!—at band practice.

  The desks shook.

  BONK!

  The chalk rattled.

  SQUEAK!

  In the distance, a stray dog howled along to the bombastic melodies.

  Ahh-rooooooo!

  It was a typical Tuesday afternoon. The girls had begun learning to play musical instruments this year, and the whole class was working hard to prepare for the spring concert. At the front of the room was the music director, a stern man named Mr. Volrath. The students followed along diligently, keeping one eye on the flick of his baton moving in 4/4 time.

  Dot, who had a knack for moving quickly and solving problems with her hands, had naturally gravitated toward the drums. She stood at the back of the band, following Mr. Volrath intently and pattering along to the beat.

  Rita, who had an aptitude for all things mathematical and logical, had begun studying the saxophone. All the complex keys and tones fascinated her, and she was quickly becoming an expert at her scales and arpeggios.

  Peggy, who was silly and loud and full of tricks, had chosen the womps and woops of the trombone. Peggy saw opportunities for jokes and diversions all around—even in band class.

  As the band approached their final notes, a thought crossed Peggy’s mind: time for a solo! The song tapered off to a soft diminuendo, but Peggy did the opposite. She crescendoed, growing louder and louder, her trombone slide wiggling back and forth as she made a great, wild, howling—

  BROOOOWL!

  Giggles broke out all over the room.

  Mr. Volrath, however, was not so amused.

  “Peggy . . .” he began, sighing deeply. “How many times have I told you that this is not the Peggy show?”

  Peggy knew she should feel bad, but she just couldn’t help herself. Just one more joke, she thought. Peggy brought the trombone back to her lips and blew a forlorn:

  WOMP WOMP . . .

  “That’s it!” Mr. Volrath didn’t usually lose his temper, but now his mustache twitched wildly. “This is practice time for the band! The whole band! One more disruption and you’re out of the spring concert!”

  Peggy rolled her eyes and her cheeks flushed hot. Her stomach twisted with anger and embarrassment. Mr. Volrath stinks, she thought to herself.

  The music director composed himself, smoothing his crisp button-down shirt and clearing his throat. “Terrific work today, kids. I can tell you have all been practicing a lot at home. But we have some work to do”—he shot a meaningful look at Peggy—“though I am thrilled with our progress.

  “As a reminder, our concert is less than a week away.” Throughout the room, students groaned. Mr. Volrath raised his hands apologetically. “I know, I know! Sunday is also the math club competition. But we can’t change the date now. It’s simply too late.” He smoothed his mustache thoughtfully. “I know it’s difficult, but students who are part of both groups must choose which event they will attend. Class dismissed!”

  The students sprang from their seats and the room filled with chatter about homework and recess plans and the upcoming spring concert.

  “Tough luck there, Peggy,” said Dot with a grimace.

  Rita nodded. “Mr. Volrath just wants what’s best for the band, but I wish he hadn’t scolded you.”

  Peggy shrugged. “Mr. Volrath just can’t take a joke, and it’s not my fault that he doesn’t like me.” She pulled out her trombone case. “On a more important note: Rita, have you decided what you’re going to do about the math club competition?”

  “You are their star member!” said Dot with a grin.

  Rita frowned. Math clubbers and band students had been asking her this every day since Mr. Volrath had announced the conflicting dates. “Math club is fine, but I love band! And you guys.” She shrugged and began taking apart her saxophone. “It’s the obvious choice!”

  Just as the girls bent to put their instruments away, a flurry of bouncing curls came dashing toward them.

  It was their classmate Ivy. “My oboe!” she cried. She barreled through the room, pushing classmates out of the way as she looked frantically around under chairs and behind bass drums. Reeds flew through the air and tambourines rolled across the floor. “I can’t find it!”

  She nearly toppled into Rita, who steadied her gently by the shoulders.

  “Ivy,” she said calmy. “What happened?”

  Ivy wiped a tear from her cheek. “I went to the bathroom right after our last song,” she sniffled. “When I came back, my oboe was gone!”

  Dot and Peggy had gathered around. “Gone?” asked Dot, patting her drumsticks on her leg.

  “Gone!” cried Ivy. Peggy, Rita, and Dot nodded at one another. A missing oboe? Local mysteries were their specialty, and they happened to have an opening in their busy schedule.

  Dot took Ivy’s hand. “The Petite Private Eyes are on the case!”

  * * *

  * * *

  The next day, Hannah was distraught over her missing piccolo and Matthew announced to the group that his tuba had vanished into thin air! Mr. Volrath scratched his head. “How could someone steal a tuba?” he said. It just didn’t seem possible. But somehow the situation grew even more dire as the week progressed. A missing mouthpiece here, a stolen saxophone reed there. By Friday the band room was missing:

  22 bundles of sheet music

  6 flutes

  9 trumpets

  14 drumsticks

  8 clarinets

  2 tubas

  5 trombones

  16 reeds

  9 mouthpieces

  1 sousaphone

  And then, seemingly under her nose, Peggy’s trombone was gone. “I can’t believe it! I put it away here,” she cried. Mr. Volrath seemed to squint at her across the room. He shook his head. Peggy’s cheeks began to burn. Was he thinking she was the instrument thief? Is that why he was shaking his head? This cranky mustachioed man was out to get her no matter what happened!

  In band class, Mr. Volrath was grim. Half of the melody was lost and the harmonies were clunky. Some students sat awkwardly twiddling their thumbs, while others tried to whistle their parts (this was complicated b

y the fact that most students could not actually whistle).

  At the end of practice, Mr. Volrath gathered everyone around. With slumped shoulders he addressed the band wearily. “What has happened is devastating. And at this rate, we can no longer function as a band. If we can’t find these instruments by our Saturday morning dress rehearsal, I’m afraid we’ll need to cancel the spring concert.” He shook his head in disbelief.

  The room filled with wails of despair, but not from Peggy, Rita, and Dot. Private Eyes do not give in easily. Besides, now this was personal.

  An investigation inside one’s school has pros and cons.

  PROS:

  - Easy to keep your friends close & your enemies closer

  - We know all the best hiding spots

  CONS:

  - How do we hold a proper investigation when teachers are constantly looking over our shoulders???

  The girls knew this investigation would prove difficult, but even they couldn’t have predicted the challenges. While collecting intel in study hall, they tried to use their flashlights to send messages with Morse code. To their dismay, the substitute teacher caught them mid-signal and confiscated their flashlights. And later, they tried to pass top-secret intel on a paper airplane, but Mr. Volrath intercepted their message and scolded Peggy (again) in front of the whole class.

  Now they were defeated, flashlight-less, and stuck nursing their bruised egos in the stinky cafeteria.

  “This is completely and utterly embarrassing,” grumbled Peggy as she slid onto the bench.

  “Maybe we were a bit overconfident in our abilities,” sighed Dot as she munched on leftovers from home. Rita was eating a crisp tuna sandwich while Peggy investigated a soggy chicken nugget from the cafeteria.

  “We need a way to communicate without everyone intercepting our messages,” said Rita, taking a thoughtful bite from her pickle.

  “Mr. Volrath is the worst,” said Peggy, cautiously nibbling. “It’s probably his fault. If he would just move the concert, that would give us more time to investigate and fix this whole math club debacle!”

  Rita groaned. “Everyone in math club keeps pressuring me to skip the band concert! I’m stressed.”

  Peggy tried to force down one of the repulsive chicken nuggets. “I give up!” She peeled herself from the sticky cafeteria bench to put her lunch tray away.

  Dot and Rita gasped. “Peggy!” Dot hissed. “What is that?”

  Peggy tilted her tray. To her surprise, she found a small envelope taped to the bottom. In tidy cursive it said To the Petite Private Eyes.

  * * *

  * * *

  Tick, tock . . . tick, tock . . .

  The hands of the clock moved dreadfully slow that afternoon. Peggy, Rita, and Dot could not wait for the day to end. As the last school bell rang, the girls shot out of their seats.

  Where were they headed? A mysterious place they had discovered a few months ago: the Secret Spy Society. They traced a now-familiar path through winding cobblestone streets and misty alleyways. Finally, they stopped at a nondescript door on a quiet block. Rita eagerly stepped forward and raised her finger to the bell.

  Ding! Dong!

  The girls grinned and waited patiently for the usual routine to unfold. First, the door opened a crack. Next, a familiar pair of warm brown eyes peered back at them. Then, closer to the ground, a furry nose poked out. The mysterious figure flung the door open.

  It was Josephine Baker and her pet cheetah, Chiquita!

  “Welcome, girls!”

  Inside, the house was full of fascinating trinkets and curious clues, like blueprints and maps, intricate rugs and comfy chairs, compasses and fountain pens, and bottles of ink. In the kitchen they could see Miss Khan. She was one of Peggy, Rita, and Dot’s teachers, and through their own sleuthing they had discovered that she was also a highly trained spy. She was standing in front of the stove as a kettle howled.

  Aaaahoooo!

  “You’re just in time!” She smiled.

  By this point, the girls had an unspoken system with the Lady Spies: cocoa first, problem solving second. But today, Miss Khan already had a large tray packed full of mugs and topped with a steaming kettle.

  Something was amiss. The house was usually buzzing with activity: women bustling with new intel or seeking help on tricky problems or simply gathering to relax while Josephine played one of her songs on the piano. But today, the house was empty except for Miss Khan and Josephine.

  “Where is everyone?” asked Peggy.

  Josephine’s eyes twinkled slyly. “Follow us.”

  She waved them toward the back door. Miss Khan followed closely as they exited to the garden. Overgrown flowers leaped wildly over the narrow pathway, and tree branches stretched lazily overhead to create a patchwork roof. At the back of the yard was another building, hidden and forgotten behind a beard of vines. The girls had noticed what appeared to be a garden shed through the kitchen window but never thought twice about it.

  Miss Khan approached the wooden door, which was covered in chipping paint and dusty layers of dirt. She turned to the girls. “It is of the utmost importance that what you’re about to see stays absolutely secret.” The girls nodded solemnly. Miss Khan was very wise, and the girls knew when to listen closely. Seeing that they understood, she removed a small key from her pants pocket. It caught a glimmer from the moon as she gently twisted it into the lock.

  CLICK!

  Peggy, Rita, and Dot had long since learned to expect the unexpected when it came to the Secret Spy Society. But this?

  “Wow,” mumbled Rita.

  “Holy smokes,” muttered Dot.

  Peggy, not typically at a loss for words, just stared with her jaw agape.

  Where there should have been peeling boards and dusty shelves, there were instead wallpapered walls and tidily tiled floors.

  Where there should have been garden tools and boxes of forgotten junk, there were instead many rows of neat desks, smartly outfitted with lamps and pencils.

  And behind each desk sat a woman. Some were bent over their workstations writing furiously. Others sat tilted in their seats, chewing the ends of their pencils and lost in thought. Some were paused to sip coffee and chat, slouched toward one another sharing hushed giggles. At the sound of the door opening, the women looked up from their work, acutely aware of three newcomers. Their faces brightened as they realized these newcomers were children.

  Peggy, Rita, and Dot were amazed. The Secret Spy Society was full of surprises, yet this surprised them still.

  “Who are these women?” asked Peggy quietly as they walked through the rows of desks.

  “My darlings, you are in the presence of the most incredible group of code breakers in the world,” Miss Khan whispered with a mischievous grin.

  “Codes!” the girls gasped. They paced through the aisles, peeking over shoulders and catching glimpses of complex scribbles between the quick scratching of pencils. They saw detailed handmade charts and stacks of crumbled paper, magnifying classes, calculators, and chalkboards full of indecipherable notes.

  “This is perfect timing!” exclaimed Rita. “We need to create a code for a case we’re solving! It will allow us to communicate better with one another while we’re at school.”

  Dot nodded seriously. “We could really use their help. We are experts at many things, but we have no idea how to create a code.”

 

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