Theodore Boone: The Accused (15 page)

“Yes, I do, and on behalf of my client, I offer an apology to Mr. Boland for Lucy’s actions.” Apologies meant a lot to Judge Yeck, and Theo had insisted that they offer one. Miss Petunia was against the idea, but Theo prevailed.

Buck nodded his acceptance but was not satisfied.

“You got a plan, Mr. Boone?” Judge Yeck asked.

Theo stood and addressed the judge. “Let’s try this. Next Saturday morning, Mr. Boland here swaps places with the other guard, Frankie, and Frankie is instructed to stay as far away from Lucy as possible, and still do his job. If Lucy goes after Frankie, then we will agree to take more drastic measures.”

“Such as?”

“Your Honor, Lucy has never been on a leash, but my client will give it a try. Miss Petunia feels confident that she can talk to Lucy about this and convince her not to be so aggressive with large men in uniforms.”

“How big is Frankie?” Judge Yeck asked Buck.

“A shrimp.”

“Miss Petunia talks to Lucy?” Judge Yeck asked Theo.

Miss Petunia stood too and said, “Oh, yes, Judge. We chat all the time. Lucy is very intelligent. I think I can convince her to stop the spitting.”

“Mr. Boland, what do you think of this idea?”

Buck realized he was not getting what he wanted, not on this day anyway, so he shrugged and said, “I’ll give it a try. I’m not looking for trouble, Judge. But it’s pretty embarrassing.”

“I’m sure it is. We’ll proceed with the plan, and if it doesn’t work, we’ll be back here next week. Agreed?”

Everyone agreed and nodded along.

“Animal Court is adjourned,” Judge Yeck said.

Chapter 15

As soon as Theo left the courthouse, reality returned. For a short while, he had been able to forget his problems and lose himself in the wacky world of a spitting llama. Miss Petunia was thrilled. May Finnemore gave him an awkward hug. Most importantly, April was impressed by his courtroom skills.

But the fun was suddenly over, and Theo faced nothing but humiliation. He was being falsely accused, and stalked, and harassed, and now his entire family was being dragged into it. The very thought of a bunch of police officers picking through every room of the Boone home was terrifying. What would the neighbors think?

Then Theo had a thought that was so awful he had to stop his bike and catch his breath. He sat down on an empty bus bench and stared at the asphalt pavement. If someone were mean enough and reckless enough to stash stolen goods in his locker, why wouldn’t they do the same thing at his house? The garage doors were usually left open. There was a storage shed in the rear, and they never locked its door. It would not be too difficult for some creep to sneak around the exterior of their home and find an unnoticed spot to hide a few more tablets, or cell phones, or even laptops.

What if the police found such items? Caught again, red-handed! At some point, Theo wondered if his own parents might become suspicious of him.

He eventually got on his bike and continued to the office, where he eased through the rear door and found Judge asleep under his desk. He tiptoed down the hall and managed to avoid seeing anyone. Elsa was tidying up her desk and preparing to leave. She was subdued and worried about Theo, and he felt worse after chatting with her.

The clock inched closer to 5:00 p.m.

The police were waiting, at the curb in front of 886 Mallard Lane, home of Woods and Marcella Boone and their only child, Theo, who had never lived anywhere else. They were waiting in two unmarked cars, and for this the Boones were thankful. Two police cruisers adorned with all the bells and whistles would have attracted neighbors like a magnet.

Theo wheeled in first on his bike, with his parents right behind him. Detectives Vorman and Hamilton approached from the street and introduced officers Mabe and Jesco, both in plainclothes. They were invited inside where Mrs. Boone made a pot of coffee and everybody else sat around the kitchen table. While the coffee was brewing, Mr. Boone slowly read the search warrant again, then handed it to Mrs. Boone who did the same.

“I fail to see why it’s necessary to search every room in the house,” Mr. Boone said.

“It’s not necessary,” Mrs. Boone added sharply. Their anger was clear, but under control, for the moment anyway.

Hamilton said, “I agree. We don’t plan to be here all night. We would like to take a look at Theo’s room and maybe a couple others, then the garage, the basement, maybe the attic.”

“There’s nothing in my room,” Theo said. He was standing in the doorway, watching and listening.

“That’s enough, Theo,” his father said.

“You plan to go through our attic?” Mrs. Boone asked in disbelief as she poured coffee.

“Yes,” Hamilton replied.

“Good luck. You may not make it out alive.”

“Do you have any outbuildings?” Vorman asked.

“There’s a storage shed out back,” Mr. Boone said.

“What’s in it?”

“I don’t keep a list. The usual stuff. A lawn mower, garden hoses, Weed Eater, old furniture.”

“Do you keep it locked?”

“Never.”

Theo blurted again, “There’s nothing in the attic and nothing in the storage shed. You’re wasting your time because you have the wrong suspect.”

The six adults stared at him, then his father said, “Okay, Theo. That’s enough.”

“Well, I agree with Theo,” his mother said. “This is a waste of time and effort. The longer you suspect Theo the longer it will take to find the real criminal.”

“We’re just doing our investigation,” Hamilton said. “It’s our job.”

Theo’s room was in surprisingly good shape. His parents gave demerits for an unmade bed, or clothes on the floor, or books off the shelves. Demerits translated into a reduction in his weekly allowance, so, to Theo, some serious cash was on the line if he didn’t tidy things up. It was agreed that Mrs. Boone would stay with the officers in the room and monitor the search. A ten-minute inspection revealed nothing, and the search party moved to the guest bedroom and its closets, then to the den. With Mrs. Boone watching every move, the officers carefully looked into cabinets and shelves. They gently touched every item in a coat closet. They almost tiptoed through the house, as if they were afraid they might break something.

After they left the den, Theo and his father turned on the television and watched the local news. Theo tried to appear relaxed, but he could think of nothing but the storage shed and how easy it would be to hide the loot out there. His stomach ached and he wanted to lie down, but he tried gamely to look nonchalant. What if he heard them yell, “We found it!” or “Here it is!”? His life would be over.

Mrs. Boone led them to the basement where they searched the laundry room, a game room, and a utility room. Nothing. She led them to the attic, cramped and stuffed with boxes of the typical useless junk that would eventually be thrown away.

“Does Theo come up here often?” Hamilton asked Mrs. Boone.

“Only when he hides stolen goods,” she replied. Hamilton vowed to ask no more questions.

It took almost an hour to open all the cardboard boxes and storage bins. Finding nothing, they moved to the garage and searched another utility room and a large closet housing the heating and air-conditioning units. While they were out of the house, Theo asked his father, “Can I go to my room, Dad?”

“Sure.”

As Theo was leaving the den, his father said, “Theo, your mother and I believe you one hundred percent. Do you understand this?”

“I do. Thanks, Dad.”

Upstairs, Theo stretched out on his bed and patted a spot next to him. Judge was waiting for the signal and hopped up on the bed—a no-no in the eyes of Mrs. Boone. But the door was locked and Theo was safe from the world, for the moment anyway. He heard a noise from the backyard and knew the search party was poking around the storage shed. He waited, tried to relax, and tried to shake the feeling that his room had just been invaded by the police.

Minutes passed and there were no excited noises from outside. Nothing unusual was found in the storage shed, and after two hours the search ended. The police thanked Mr. and Mrs. Boone for their cooperation—as if they had a choice—and left Mallard Lane.

Mrs. Boone knocked on Theo’s door and he opened it. “They’re gone,” she said as she hugged him. “Are you okay?”

“No, not really.”

“Neither am I. Look, Theo, I’m a pretty good lawyer. So is your father. We’re determined to protect you and make sure nothing bad happens, okay? The detectives are good men who are just doing their jobs. They will eventually find the truth, and this nightmare will be over. I promise you there will be a happy ending.”

“If you say so, Mom.”

“Your father has a great idea. Since you don’t have school tomorrow, let’s go to Santo’s and get a pizza.”

Theo managed to smile.

As they were driving away, Theo, from the backseat, asked, “Say, have you guys ever heard of a spitting llama?”

“No,” his parents replied in unison.

“Have I got a story for you.”

Chapter 16

Late Friday morning, when he should have been in third-period Government, Theo finally got bored with his suspension and admitted to himself that he missed school. His mother was in court. His father was buried in paperwork at his desk. No one in the law firm had time for him, so he informed Elsa that he was going to visit Ike. She gave him a hug and once again looked as though she might cry. Theo was so sick of all this pity.

Judge ran along behind him as he pedaled through Strattenburg, being careful to avoid the busy streets because the last thing he wanted was to get stopped by a cop or a truant officer. Kids were caught all the time skipping school, and serious truants were hauled into Youth Court. Theo had a hunch that he was about to see more of Youth Court than he had ever dreamed. And the way his luck was running this week, he was almost certain another cop would stop him.

He made it safely to Ike’s office, though, and bounded up the steps to a wonderfully messy room where his cranky old uncle barely earned enough money to survive. In spite of his cluttered desk and his Boone-like fondness of work, Ike did not really push himself. He lived alone in a small apartment. He drove an old Spitfire with a million miles on it. He didn’t need much, so he didn’t work much. Especially on Fridays. Theo knew from experience that most lawyers ran out of gas around noon on Friday. The courthouse was much quieter. It was hard to find a judge on Friday afternoon. The clerks took longer lunch breaks and began sneaking away as soon as possible.

Ike, though no longer a real lawyer, certainly followed this tradition. He slept late, something he did almost every day, and puttered around his office until the crack of noon when he walked downstairs to the Greek deli for lunch. To start the weekend properly, Ike had two glasses of wine with his Friday lunch.

Theo and Judge arrived around 10:30, and Ike, after three cups of coffee, was hyper and talkative. “I have a suspect, Theo, not a real person, not a name, not yet, but I have an idea that we must pursue. Are you with me?”

“Sure, Ike.”

“First, though, I want to hear all about the fight. Every detail. Every kick, punch, bloody nose. Tell me you punched some little thug in the face.”

Ike’s feet were on his desk—dirty sandals, no socks. So Theo kicked back in his chair and put his feet on the desk, too. “Well, it happened real fast,” he began, and launched into a long and fairly accurate account of the fight. Ike was grinning, a very proud uncle. Theo did not embellish much, and he resisted the temptation to improve his skills as a brawler. When he finished describing the meeting with Mrs. Gladwell, and the suspension, Ike said, “Good for you, Theo. Sometimes you have no choice. Wear the suspension like a badge of honor.”

“Did you hear about the search warrant?” Theo asked, anxious to share all of the week’s adventures.

“What search warrant?” Ike demanded. Theo told that story, and Ike never stopped shaking his head. To lighten things up, Theo asked, “Have you ever heard of a spitting llama?” Ike had not, so Theo recounted in great detail his latest adventure in Animal Court.

When the story time was over, Ike jumped to his feet, cracked his knuckles, and said, “Okay, Theo. Our task is to find the person who’s trying to frame you, right?”

“Right.”

“I’ve thought about nothing else for the past forty-eight hours. Tell me what you know so far.”

“Not much. My dad is convinced that it’s someone from inside the school, most likely another student because an adult would have a hard time getting into my locker without being suspicious. He thinks it’s more than one kid.”

“I agree completely. Who’s your number one suspect?”

“I don’t have one, Ike. My parents have pushed me to make a list of all the kids who may have a grudge. I’m not saying I’m the greatest guy at school, but I really can’t think of anyone who would, (a) break into my locker and steal stuff on Monday, then, (b) break in and rob the computer store Tuesday night, leaving the cap behind, then, (c) break into my locker again on Wednesday and plant the stolen tablets, all in an effort to get me thrown in jail. Somebody out there really, really hates me, and I just can’t think of who it might be.”