The Unwilling Umpire (3 page)

After a pause, she said, “Well, is there anyone else who can tell me anything about Marion Unkenholz? Your paper reported that he stole a van.”

Ruth Rose waited and then listened to someone else. “It is?” she said. “Oh. Well, thank you.”

Ruth Rose handed the telephone back to Mrs. Mackleroy.

“Susan Greene moved to California,” she said. “But I spoke with another reporter. He remembered the stolen van because his sister works in Sugar’s Bakery.”

“Did you find out if Pete is related to Marion?” Josh asked.

Ruth Rose nodded. “Pete
is
Marion,” she said.

“Huh?” said Josh.

“The reporter said the thief’s full name is Marion
Peter
Unkenholz,” Ruth Rose said. “I guess he goes by Pete.”

Dink just blinked at the news. He felt numb. “Could it be a different Pete Unkenholz?” he asked.

Josh grinned. “Yeah, like there are a bunch of Unkenholzes running around in Pen … that place in Maine.”

“I’m sorry you had to get this bad news,” Mrs. Mackleroy said. She took
her purse from a drawer. “You’re welcome to stay, but I have to get some lunch now.”

“Us too,” Josh said. He looked at Dink and Ruth Rose.

“Okay,” Dink said. “I don’t know what else we can do.”

“Well, I have an idea,” Ruth Rose said.

The kids thanked Mrs. Mackleroy and left the library.

“Does your idea have anything to do with lunch?” Josh asked Ruth Rose. “I’m so hungry I could eat a spider!”

Ruth Rose headed down West Green Street. Dink and Josh shrugged, then followed her across Main Street.

“Where are we going?” Dink asked.

“To the river,” Ruth Rose said, heading past the empty baseball field. “I want to check out Pete’s trailer.”

“Why?” asked Josh.

“Because I don’t believe Pete is the
kind of person who would take someone’s van for a joyride,” Ruth Rose said.

“But you just told us that reporter said Pete did it!” Josh said.

Ruth Rose shook her head. “I just have a feeling there has to be some other explanation,” she said.

“I guess I agree,” Dink said. “It almost seems like Pete is two different people.”

The kids followed a sunny path toward the river. In a clearing they saw picnic tables and fireplaces. Only one campsite was occupied. Under a tree was a small white trailer, the kind you pull behind a car or truck. A few yards away the Indian River sparkled in the sunlight.

“Cool trailer,” Josh whispered. “It would be fun to sleep here. You could fish from your bed!”

Three aluminum steps led up to a door. Under a window was a lawn chair.

A red-and-blue flannel shirt was draped over its back.

The spot was quiet except for birdcalls and squirrels scampering in the leaves.

Josh picked up the shirt, then put it back on the chair. “How do we know if this is Pete’s trailer?” he asked.

Dink walked around the trailer. “I think it is,” he said. “Look at this.”

Josh and Ruth Rose followed him. Dink pointed to the license plate. It was from Maine.

Josh walked up the steps and rapped on the door. “Anybody home?” he called.

When no one answered, he tried the doorknob. “Locked,” he said.

Dink stood on the lawn chair and tried to look through the window next to the door. “There’s a curtain,” he said.

Ruth Rose walked over to the picnic table. There was a trash barrel and a small stone fireplace with a grill for cooking. A long-handled fork was resting on the edge of the fireplace.

Ruth Rose picked up the fork and poked at the stuff in the trash barrel.

“Hungry?” Josh cracked, walking toward her with Dink.

Ruth Rose stuck the fork into a small box and pulled it out of the barrel. On the side of the box was a picture of a man sneezing.

Below the picture were the words ALLER-GREEN. FAST RELIEF FROM GRASS ALLERGIES.

“Pete wasn’t faking his allergies!” Dink said.

“So he
was
going into the clubhouse for his medicine,” Josh said.

“We have to show this to Officer Fallon!” Ruth Rose said, shoving the box into her pocket.

The kids ran almost all the way to the police station. They hurried up the front steps and down the cool hallway and knocked on Officer Fallon’s door.

“Come in!” he said.

When the kids entered, Officer Fallon was just hanging up the phone.

“Hey, kids,” the police chief said. “Looks like you’ve been running. Have a seat and catch your breath.”

Ruth Rose put the Aller-Green box on his desk, and the kids sat down. “We found that at the campsite!” she said. “This proves Pete really
does
have allergies!”

Officer Fallon held up a large hand. “Whoa, slow down,” he said, smiling at Ruth Rose. “What campsite?”

“We found out Pete is living in a trailer at the campground,” Dink explained. “So we went there, and Ruth Rose found the box in the trash.”

Officer Fallon picked up the box. As he read the print, the kids explained how they’d found the article about Pete on the Internet.

“We found out he …” Josh stopped and looked guilty.

“What, Josh?” Officer Fallon said. “What were you going to say?”

“Well, we found out that Pete stole a van,” Josh said.

Officer Fallon set the medicine box on his desk. “Anything else?” he asked.

“His first name is really Marion,” Ruth Rose went on. “He comes from Penobscot, Maine. I called the newspaper, and a reporter told me his middle name is Peter.”

Officer Fallon rubbed his chin. “You’ve been busy,” he said.

“We don’t think Pete stole anything!” Ruth Rose said.

“We think he went inside to get his medicine, not to steal Mr. Pocket’s baseballs,” Dink added.

“Or maybe the medicine made a good excuse to go into the clubhouse,” Officer Fallon said. “Remember, Pete confessed to taking the balls.”

Officer Fallon stood up and walked over to his office window. “Why would he confess to something he didn’t do?” he asked over his shoulder.

“He might have seen another person
in the clubhouse,” Josh volunteered. “Maybe he’s protecting someone.”

“Maybe. All I know is, Pete is unwilling to talk to me,” Officer Fallon said. “He shut up like a clam.”

“How long will Pete have to stay in jail?” Ruth Rose asked.

The chief sighed and slumped into his chair. “I’m afraid Pete could go to prison for a very long time,” he said.

No one said anything for a minute.

“What if we found the baseballs?” Dink asked. “If Mr. Pocket got them back, could Pete get out of jail?”

“A judge would have to decide that,” Officer Fallon said. “There will be a trial. I’ve been trying to get a lawyer for Pete.”

“Did you find one?” Dink asked.

“Yes,” Officer Fallon said. He tapped a pencil against the Aller-Green box. “But when I asked Pete, he said he wouldn’t speak to her.”

“But why not?” Josh asked.

Officer Fallon shook his head. “I wish I knew,” he said. “If anyone ever needed a good lawyer, Pete does.”

“Could we visit Pete?” Dink asked. “We could try to convince him to talk to the lawyer.”

Officer Fallon gazed at Dink across his desk. “We have nothing to lose,” he said finally. “I’ll take you three to his cell for a few minutes. Explain to Pete that he needs a lawyer!”

The kids followed Officer Fallon out of his office, along a hallway, and down
a set of stairs. At the bottom, Officer Fallon opened a steel door.

Behind the door was a large, window-less room. In one corner, iron bars formed a small cell. Inside the cell, Pete Unkenholz sat on a chair, staring at his feet.

“I brought you some company,” Officer Fallon said. He nodded at the kids and left the room.

Pete looked up. He licked his lips but didn’t say anything. His eyes looked scared.