The Fight for Kidsboro (6 page)

A couple of days later I headed to my clubhouse office. Valerie and a few others were gathered out front in what looked like a press conference. Jill was there, writing down everything Valerie said. The others were listening intently.

“I don't know about anyone else,” Valerie said, “but I'm embarrassed for our mayor. What is this Everybody Works program? Now he's
forcing
us to work? Don't we work enough at school and at home without having to worry about the daily grind in Kidsboro? This guy is in love with rules. And another thing, he selected Roberto to be a member of our community, and not two days after he was voted in, Roberto committed the biggest crime ever in Kidsboro. I'm beginning to think the mayor doesn't really know what's best for the city anymore.”

Valerie spotted me as I walked up. She smiled that evil smile of hers. “Well, hello, Mr. Mayor.” Jill stopped writing and looked up at me as well. I guessed She was still mad at me because she smiled her own version of an evil smile. She obviously planned on printing Valerie's every word in the next issue.

Valerie continued the press conference. “Like I was saying, I'm beginning to lose my trust in a mayor who votes to put criminals on our streets….”

I turned away, realizing that her vision to destroy me was only just beginning. Suddenly, it dawned on me. Of course! Valerie wanted to disgrace me in front of the whole town. What better way to do it than to disgrace one of the people I had chosen to join the town! Valerie set Roberto up! I stepped into my office. The investigation was reopened!

4

SUPER SLEUTHS

O
FFICER
A
LICE HAD ALREADY DECLARED
that the investigation was over, so I couldn't ask her for help. I decided to go to the Scott Sanchez Detective Agency. I realized Scott had never actually done any detective work before, but another set of eyes and brains wouldn't hurt, no matter how untrained the eyes and brains were. Plus, I had promised Scott after we passed the new law that I would help him find work. Keeping my promises—what a great elected official I was!

When I walked through his doorway, Scott was sitting in a lawn chair reading a comic book. It never even occurred to him that I might be a client. “Hey,” he said. “What's up?”

“I'm here to hire you,” I said.

“You what?”

“I want to hire you.”

“Pardon me for being dense, but I don't follow.”

“Aren't you a detective?” I asked.

“Sure.”

“I need a detective.”

He dropped the comic book as if his hands had suddenly gone numb. He acted like he had no idea what to do at this point. Should he ask a bunch of questions? Should he get his magnifying glass?

“How much do you charge?” I asked as I pulled a few starbills out of my pocket. Scott seemed clueless.

“How much? Um … I don't know. I—I used to have this written down somewhere. Hold on.” He began to rummage through a shelf. It was filled with comic books, cereal box tops, and a paddle ball game. You know—important detective equipment. He stopped looking and faced me again. “I'll tell you what. Since you're a friend, I'll forget the rates and give you a discount.”

“Sounds fair,” I said, knowing he was winging it.

“How about half a starbill an hour?”

This rate was a little steep, but I thought I'd give him a break.

“It's a deal.”

“Great. Okay.” He nervously looked around, probably hoping by some miracle that there might be something lying around his office that would tell him where to start.

“Listen,” I said as he continued to search. “I don't think Roberto broke into Marcy's house. I think we should reopen the investigation.”

“Here it is,” he said triumphantly. He held up a plaid hat, like the one Sherlock Holmes wore. He returned to his shelf. I hoped that he wasn't searching for a pipe.

“Great. Did you hear me?”

“Yes. Marcy's house. Who do you think did it?”

“I have my suspicions, but I'd rather not say right now.”

“Okay,” he said. I waited for him to suggest a course of action, but I was torn. I wanted to give him the chance to lead the investigation, but at the same time, he was charging me half a starbill an hour for this. I wanted to get started on it.

“Why don't we go to Roberto's old house?” I said finally.

“Good idea.” He started out the door.

“Um,” I said, “are you going to wear that hat?”

He stopped and thought about it. “You don't like the hat?”

“It's just … a little … goofy.”

He seemed offended and, for the first time, showed me who was boss here. “I'm leading this investigation, thank you. Come on.”

Roberto's house had been left just as it was when the burglary took place. He hadn't come back for any of his stuff. He probably didn't want to risk running into anyone and having to explain himself. There were magazine pictures scattered all around.

“Wait a minute,” I said. “He told me he was putting up pictures when he heard someone call his name.”

“That looks possible,” Scott said. “Some of these pictures are tacked up, some aren't.” This was obvious to both of us, but since I was paying him, I guess he felt he ought to observe something.

We continued looking around, but we were interrupted by a ruckus outside. Several people were running past the door. “What's going on?” I asked one of them.

“There's been another break-in!”

It was Nelson Swanson's house. The place was littered with blueprints, ideas, sketches, and a number of different gadgets that Nelson had invented. It looked as if someone had trashed it just for the sake of trashing it.

“Did anybody see anything?” I asked Alice.

“No,” Alice replied, having a little trouble concentrating on my question because she was staring at Scott's hat. “Nelson said that nothing was stolen.”

“Why would somebody go to all the trouble to break in, trash the whole place, and not steal anything?”

“I don't know.” She raised her eyebrows as if she
did
know. “Revenge, maybe?”

“You think it was Roberto?” Scott asked.

She lowered her voice. Scott, who was listening up to this point, backed away as if he sensed he wasn't invited to the conversation. “This place was wired with an alarm—and whoever did this managed to do it without setting it off. This is the work of a professional. He knew what he was doing. And Roberto's father being who he is …”

“I don't want to hear any more,” I interrupted. She was jumping to a wild conclusion, and she knew it.

“Where's Nelson?” I asked.

“Outside. I was just about to ask him some more questions,” she said. We followed her out.

Nelson was sitting by a tree, looking troubled and holding a metal gadget. Eugene Meltsner was trying to console him.

“I don't believe your efforts were in vain, Nelson,” Eugene was saying to him as we walked up. “The difficult work has already been accomplished, such as the intellectual labor that went into figuring out exactly how it could work.”

“But I was so close,” Nelson replied.

“As far as the rebuilding process is concerned, I believe it should go much faster now, since you know the basics.”

“Hello, Eugene,” Alice said.

“Greetings.”

“You mind if I ask Nelson a few questions?”

“Not at all.”

Alice looked at Nelson. “What's that you've got there?”

“A broken automatic door opener. All I had to do was adjust the sensitivity …”

“Is it worth anything?”

“Not much. Just the parts.”

“You still haven't discovered anything missing?”

“No.”

“Do you have any enemies?”

“No.”

“Competitors?”

“No.”

“Anyone you owe money to?”

“No.”

“This alarm you installed. Did it malfunction often?”

“No. That's what's so strange. I can't understand why it didn't work.”

“Neither can I,” Eugene said. “It worked consistently in the trial runs.”

A voice with a Southern accent came out of nowhere. “Kind a makes you wonder if
anybody's
safe, doesn't it?” I looked up and saw Max Darby. Max had moved to Odyssey from Georgia a few years ago, and hadn't even begun to lose his accent.

Max always seemed to be up to something. He wanted you to think he was your best friend—in fact, everybody's best friend—but his real best friend was himself. “I'm sorry,” he said. “Am I interrupting something?”

“I was done anyway,” Alice said, moving her investigation back to Nelson's house.

“You know what you need, friend?” Max said. “You need something that'll keep you high and dry when the rest of the world is float in' down the river.”

“What are you talking about?” Nelson asked. I wished he hadn't asked.

“I'm talkin' peace of mind,” Max continued, “restful nights. I'm talkin' about preparin' for the future.”

“Okay, sure, but … what
specifically
are you talking about?”

“Insurance. The one thing that'll help you out if this ever happens again.”

“Max,” I interrupted, “this isn't the time.”

“Oh, I disagree. I think this is the perfect time.”

Nelson said, “Go on.”

Max knelt down next to Nelson and put his hand on his shoulder. He had him. “You'll never have to go through this again if you have Darby Insurance. Buy one of my policies at my limited-time, special-price offer, and if tragedy ever strikes again, I'll pay you enough money to fix all the damages.”

By the time Max was through with him, Nelson had bought a homeowner's policy. The way it worked was that Nelson would pay Max a starbill every month, and if something ever happened to his house or furnishings again, Max would pay to replace everything. Leave it to Max to make money off a tragedy.

But, to be honest, insurance wasn't such a bad idea for Kidsboro. In fact, Marcy, with her trashed house, probably wished she'd had insurance as well. Apparently, a lot of people saw the benefits of it. Max sold five policies right there at the scene of the crime. He sold one to Scott, and he told him his hat would be insured as well. Scott was already spending the money he was going to make off of me. I didn't buy one simply on principle. I wasn't about to give my money to Max.

While Max introduced Scott to the details of his new policy, I sat under a tree and thought about the situation. The break-in just didn't make sense. If Valerie was responsible for the first break-in, why would she do this one as well? She would risk getting caught, and she had already made her point. Everyone in town thought Roberto was a crook, and that I was wrong for selecting him. She had already convinced everyone that I had poor judgment. So why would she do it again?

After the crowd had thinned around Nelson's house, Scott and I went back in to look around. Alice was off questioning other possible witnesses or suspects, and I thought it would be the perfect opportunity to do some investigating myself.