The Orange Outlaw

Here’s what kids, parents,
and teachers have to say
to Ron Roy, author of
the
A to Z Mysteries
series:

This book is dedicated to my parents,
Leo “Zeke” Roy and Marie Jeanne Roy.
—R.R.

For Arthur Davis, a big A to Z fan.
—J.S.G.

Dink, Josh, and Ruth Rose stood on Uncle Warren’s balcony. Nine floors below, the cars, buses, and taxis of New York City zoomed by.

As dusk turned to night, the city’s lights began to blink on. People were strolling to restaurants and theaters.

Dink’s uncle stepped onto the balcony. “That’s a pretty sight, isn’t it?” he said.

“It’s great,” Dink said. “I feel like an eagle up here.”

“Thanks for inviting us for the weekend,” Josh told him.

“You are entirely welcome, my boy,” Uncle Warren said.

“And thanks for inviting us to your block party,” Ruth Rose said. “I’ve never been to one before.”

Josh let out a chuckle. “My little brothers have block parties all the time,” he said. “They bring their blocks out to the sandbox and throw them at each other.”

Uncle Warren laughed. “In New York City, we often have parties where everyone on the block is invited,” he explained. “Tonight we plan to raise money for the Central Park Zoo.”

“Why does the zoo need money?” asked Ruth Rose.

“Some of the animals need more space,” Uncle Warren said.

“Can they make all that money from one party?” Josh asked, gazing down at the street.

“Tonight is just the beginning,” Uncle Warren said. “The zoo will be raising money for at least a year.”

He looked at his watch. “We’d better get going. But first, I want to show you something.”

The kids followed Dink’s uncle through the living room to a small study at the back of the apartment. The room held a desk, a chair, and tall shelves crammed with books.

On the desk lay a painting of a rowboat floating on a pond.

“Do you like it?” Uncle Warren asked.

“It’s pretty,” Ruth Rose said. “I like the flowers on the water.”

“Those are lily pads,” Uncle Warren
said. “This was painted a long time ago by a man named Claude Monet. It’s very valuable.”

“Is the painting yours?” Dink asked.

“I wish it were, Donny” his uncle said. “My friend Forest Evans just bought it vacationing in France. He shipped it to me for safekeeping. He’ll collect this beauty when he returns to New York in a couple of days.”

Uncle Warren looked at his watch. “It’s time to go downstairs,” he said. “Help me shut off a few lights.”

The kids walked around switching off lights.

“Leave the one over the kitchen table on!” Dink’s uncle called.

In the kitchen, a hanging light shone down on a wooden bowl filled with oranges. Dink was tempted to take one but decided to wait till later.

They left the apartment and Uncle Warren locked the door. Then they crossed the hall and crowded into the small elevator. Dink pushed the button that said
LOBBY.

“What happens to all the cars when you have a block party?” Josh asked as they rode down.

“The police seal off the street,” Uncle Warren explained. “You’ll see.”

A minute later, they left the elevator, crossed the lobby, and walked to the front door.

“Hello, kids,” said Roger, the doorman. He looked like royalty in his crisp uniform and pointy mustache. “The block party sure has drawn a lot of people!”

“Are you going?” Ruth Rose asked him.

He shook his head. “Afraid not, missy. I have to stay at the door. But I’ll
be able to see a lot from here. Have fun! I hear there’ll be lots of good stuff to eat.”

“Awesome!” Josh said, rubbing his belly.

“Still hungry, Josh?” Uncle Warren asked. “Didn’t I feed you enough?”

Josh grinned. “That was two hours ago!”

“Josh is like a baby wolf,” Ruth Rose said. “He needs to eat ten times a day.”

The kids and Uncle Warren walked outside.

It was a warm night in June, and the street was crowded. Music, voices, and food smells filled the air.

“This is so cool, Uncle Warren,” Dink said. “We’re standing right where cars and buses usually drive!”

“Yes,” Uncle Warren said, “and tomorrow morning, they’ll be back.”

“Evening, Mr. Duncan,” a woman
behind them said. She was stooped and had a lined face and wild orange hair.

“Hello, Miss Booker,” Uncle Warren said. “You haven’t met my nephew Donny and his friends, have you? Kids, Miss Booker is the building manager.”

The kids each said hello and shook Miss Booker’s hand. She was wearing a raincoat even though the sky was clear.

“A pleasure,” the woman said. “Enjoy the party.”

She turned around and entered the building. Through the glass door, Dink saw her talk to Roger. After a minute, she walked toward the elevator.

“What does a building manager do?” Josh asked.

“Many things,” Uncle Warren said. “She fixes leaky faucets, calls electricians, and makes sure the building is kept clean. She’ll even deliver packages to my door so Roger doesn’t have to leave his station.”

“Does she live here, like you?” Ruth Rose asked.

Uncle Warren nodded. “Miss Booker has a small apartment in the basement,” he said.

Suddenly, Josh stopped dead in his tracks. “You guys aren’t gonna believe this,” he said, “but I just saw a flying watermelon!”

Josh led the group over to a guy juggling fruit. Big fruit! A watermelon, a grapefruit, a cantaloupe, and a pineapple circled through the air over the man’s head.

“My mother would tell him not to play with his food,” Josh whispered.

A boy a little taller than Dink stood in front of the man. “Ready, Dad?” he asked.

When the man nodded, the kid tossed a bunch of bananas into the air.

Everyone watching said, “Oooooh!”
as the bananas joined the rest of the fruit.

Not far from the juggler, the kids noticed a man in a hat and vest leading a pony around a ring. Suddenly, an orangutan dressed as a clown leaped onto the pony. The ape stood on his head as the pony galloped faster and faster.

While everyone cheered, a woman also wearing a hat and vest passed out flyers. Dink took one and stuck it in his pocket.

The man clapped his hands, and the pony jumped into a trailer with the ape still on its back.

Josh started down the street. “Look at the dummy!” he said.

“Takes one to know one,” Dink said, grinning at Josh.

“I think he means the
wooden
one,” Ruth Rose said.

On a small stage sat a man with a wooden doll on his lap. The two were talking to each other.

“I’m hungry!” the dummy said. His hinged mouth opened and closed as he spoke, and his bright eyes moved from side to side.

“Go to sleep,” the man answered in a deeper voice.

“Feed me, or I’ll report you for dummy abuse!” the dummy said.

“How do they do that?” Josh asked. The man’s voice seemed to be coming out of the dummy’s mouth.

The man pulled a cookie from an open bag at his feet. He grinned at the audience and ate it.

“Hey gimme one of those!” his dummy yelled.

“No.”

“Yes!”

“No,” the man said. “You’ve already had dessert.”

“Gimme a cookie, or I stop talking,” the dummy said.

The audience laughed.

The man sighed and rolled his eyes. “Oh, all right. But just one.”

The man reached down and took a second cookie from the bag. He put it
in the dummy’s mouth. “There, happy now?”

The dummy chewed, swallowed, and burped. The audience loved it. “Thank you,” the dummy said to the man.

“You’re welcome,” the man said. Holding the dummy in his arms, he stood up and bowed.

“Hey, mister. Where’d that cookie go?” Josh called out.

The man smiled at Josh. “Down into his wooden tummy!”

Josh laughed. He turned to Dink, Ruth Rose, and Uncle Warren. “That dummy made me hungry,” he said.

“How about some pizza?” Uncle Warren asked. “I think I noticed a vendor selling slices.”

The four walked to the pizza stand and bought slices. They ate them as
they enjoyed more of the block party.

When Dink started yawning, his uncle led the group back to the building. Roger was standing just inside the lobby door.

“Did you have a good time?” he asked.

“It was great,” Dink said.

“I think the evening will be a big success,” Uncle Warren said. “Good night, Roger.”

“I sure hope so,” Roger said. “Night, Mr. Duncan.”

Uncle Warren pushed the button to call the elevator. A minute later, they entered his apartment.

“Why don’t you kids get ready for bed, and then we can see what’s on TV?” he suggested, heading for his study.

Just as Ruth Rose picked up her backpack, they heard Dink’s uncle shout.

The kids ran down the hall and practically bumped into Uncle Warren. His face was white, and he looked sick.

“Uncle Warren, what’s the matter?” Dink asked.

“The … the painting,” Dink’s uncle stammered. “Someone’s stolen Forest’s painting!”