Very Rich

by Polly Horvath

  “No, of course not,” the police officer had agreed. “But then why did she take you out of class?”

  Rupert had looked stymied by this, but Turgid had jumped in and said that Aunt Hazelnut must have thought he and Rudy were better friends than they were because Rudy had been there for Christmas. The fact that Turgid kept calling Rupert by the wrong name even after the policeman had corrected him twice helped. And the officer left satisfied.

  Or so Rupert had thought, but here was another police officer. He grabbed his sweatshirt and extra two shirts, threw them on, and traipsed down the hall, out the front door, and into the police car. He was allowed to ride up front but he was not comforted by the shotgun he had to sit next to. He did not think people should be driving around with shotguns in their front seats. Even the police. It was larger, heavier, and more dangerous-looking up close than he would have even imagined.

  The officer said nothing except to inform Rupert that his name was Officer Kramer and they would be explaining everything to him when they got to the interrogation room at the station. This sounded very scary to Rupert too.

  Then when they were almost there Officer Kramer looked over at him and said, “You’re kind of a skinny dude, aren’t you?”

  Skinny was hardly the word for it because Rupert had barely had a full or satisfying meal since Christmas. His cheekbones were beginning to stick out. He nodded.

  “Don’t they have a breakfast program at school?” Officer Kramer asked, parking the police car.

  Rupert nodded again. How could he explain that no one liked the cat-stealing Browns and so he never got the free breakfast.

  “Well, I’d avail myself of it if I were you. I’ve got two teenage boys myself and they eat like lions. Do you eat like a lion?”

  Rupert shook his head. This was really an embarrassing discussion. He wished the officer would just take him inside and get on with it.

  Officer Kramer shook his head and then led Rupert into the station and to a room with a table where a female officer sat.

  “Officer Tomlin will be questioning you,” he said as Rupert sat down.

  “Hello, Rupert,” said Officer Tomlin, smiling at him.

  Then Officer Kramer left. Officer Tomlin asked Rupert how he was and hadn’t the kidnapping been terribly scary and generally made small talk before saying, “Well, shall we get started?”

  Officer Kramer returned just then and said, “Snacks,” putting a container of chocolate milk and a bag of chips in front of Rupert.

  “Excellent idea,” said Officer Tomlin. “I always like snack time myself.”

  Now Rupert didn’t know what to do. It sounded as if Officer Tomlin was planning on eating the chips and chocolate milk, but they were sitting in front of Rupert. He tried not to notice they were there. Officers Tomlin and Kramer meanwhile sat looking at him expectantly. Finally, Officer Tomlin said gently, “You can open your snacks and have them while we talk, Rupert.”

  Rupert demolished the lot in ten seconds. Officer Tomlin and Officer Kramer looked at each other over Rupert’s head and then Officer Kramer said, “I think I’ll just go get some lunch for Rupert from the café across the street. If we can bring it in for the jailbirds we can bring it in for the witnesses.” And he left, muttering, “God’s nightgown, what’s the matter with this town.”

  “There now,” said Officer Tomlin. “You mustn’t mind Officer Kramer. He just likes to see…well—” She stopped, looked at Rupert’s bashful face, and decided to change the subject. “Let’s just continue while he’s gone. I don’t know how much Officer Kramer explained, but I’m not part of the Steelville force. I’m from Cincinnati. We’ve had a robbery and kidnapping in Cincinnati that’s looking very similar to the attempted robbery you were a victim of. We would like therefore to question you and Mrs. Hazelnut Rivers again about what you can remember from that day.”

  “But I already said,” protested Rupert, wondering wildly if Charlie and Chas were back and robbing safety deposit boxes in Cincinnati. Had they not been able to find lives as astronauts or circus performers?

  “Yes, we know. You did a good job then too, Rupert. I’ve read the interview. But this is standard operating procedure, questioning the witnesses again. Sometimes we have to hear accounts of these things over and over because sometimes people remember more details in the retelling. Now you don’t mind cooperating with us this way, do you? I know it must be very tedious and a little scary.”

  Rupert was shaking his head when the door opened. He thought hopefully it might be Officer Kramer with his lunch, but instead it was Uncle Moffat. Rupert was so surprised he said, “Uncle Moffat!”

  “Are you related?” asked Officer Tomlin.

  “No, not as such, not as such,” said Uncle Moffat jovially. “But Uncle is what Rupert has heard me called. As he called Hazelnut Aunt, I gather. You see, Rupert turns up at the oddest times, at Christmas dinner, for instance, or in the bank vault with Hazelnut.”

  “But that was her idea. She invited me!” protested Rupert, who still couldn’t get over the feeling that as a Brown he might be arrested for just about anything while held captive in this room.

  “Right,” said Officer Tomlin. She wrote something down. “As you and she herself said before. She wanted to read you her love letters. And now she’s disappeared. And no one knows where she is.”

  “We’ve had a postcard from her from the world’s biggest ball of string,” said Uncle Moffat. “Says she was on her way to have her own life. Well, that’s that, I say.”

  “I assume it was explained why you were brought in?” said Officer Tomlin to Uncle Moffat.

  “Only one at home when you called, that’s about the gist of it, isn’t it?” said Uncle Moffat. “You want someone in the family to tell you where Aunt Hazelnut went, but as I said, we’ve no idea whatsoever. She was never a Rivers, you know, she just married my brother. She was a Macintosh by birth.”

  “Yes, well, we were hoping to question her too,” said Officer Tomlin. “The timing of her leaving is interesting. And the fact that none of you expected it.”

  “Oh, now there you have it wrong,” said Uncle Moffat, sitting down without being asked and sprawling comfortably as if used to owning whatever room he walked into. “We weren’t informed in advance, but it isn’t as if we didn’t expect it. Truth be told, we had been expecting it ever since Joe died thirty years before. I mean, why stay? It wasn’t her house. She hadn’t been raised there. We always thought she must surely want her own life with her own kind, but no, she just stayed on. When she did finally leave we none of us were surprised, we were just surprised it took her so long. She might have given us an address where we could forward her mail, but oh well, you can’t expect common consideration from a Macintosh.”

  “So you don’t think it had anything to do with the attempted robbery and kidnapping, her disappearance?” asked Officer Tomlin.

  “Why would it?” said Uncle Moffat. Just at that moment Officer Kramer returned with a burger and fries and started to reach across Uncle Moffat to put them down in front of Rupert when Uncle Moffat grabbed them in midair. “Ah, lunch brought in, I see. Very considerate of you.” He scarfed them down before anyone could protest.

  Officer Kramer cast a disbelieving look at Uncle Moffat and mumbled something about going out to get more when another policeman poked his head in the door and said, “Officer Kramer. You’re needed. Robbery in convenience store on Third.” And off he shot.

  “Well!” said Officer Tomlin. “Rupert, we’ll see what we can do for you lunchwise later. Now, let me just get your statement. Let’s see.” She shuffled through her pile of papers. “Here it is. Rupert Brown, age ten, birth date…oh…” She stopped reading and looked up. “Birth date April 16. Today. I guess you’re no longer ten, you’re eleven. Happy birthday.”

  “Thank you,” said Rupert, blushing.

  “Well, we’ll try not to keep you too long. Having a family party?” asked Officer Tomlin, smiling at him.

&
nbsp; “Yes,” lied Rupert. Rupert’s mother always bought each child for his or her birthday a bag of menthol eucalyptus chips. These tasted terribly of cough medicine and nobody but Mrs. Brown liked them. To a family living on kitchen scraps they represented an extreme outlay of money, but even though they were a novelty and technically food, the children still could not stomach them and eventually they made their way back to Mrs. Brown, who always pretended to be surprised.

  “Right then, let’s just go through what happened one more time. And Mr. Rivers, if you could just listen to Rupert’s story and see if any of it jogs your memory in regards to the account Mrs. Rivers gave you all when she got home that night. Perhaps you will remember something she told you that she forgot to tell us.”

  “Hmmmm,” said Uncle Moffat, putting his hand to his forehead and thinking hard.

  For the next hour Uncle Moffat and Rupert told and retold, told and retold what they could remember. But nothing new came to light. Rupert was very proud of himself. He did not once let it slip what had really happened, and Officer Tomlin seemed to believe him.

  “Well, thank you then, the two of you are free to go,” said Officer Tomlin. “Have a good birthday, Rupert. Shall I have someone give you a lift home?”

  “I’ll do it,” said Uncle Moffat.

  “Right,” said Officer Tomlin, and they were done.

  Uncle Moffat and Rupert walked out to the car.

  “Well, Rupert,” said Uncle Moffat, “I guess we fooled them. The perfect crime!”

  At first Rupert looked up in terror, thinking Uncle Moffat knew more than Rupert had thought, but then he realized that Uncle Moffat was just making a joke, so he laughed cooperatively.

  They got into Uncle Moffat’s huge Cadillac and Uncle Moffat said, “School’s not even out yet. Look at that, you’re getting a whole extra hour off from school and on your birthday too. Well, Rupert, what shall we do with it?”

  “With what?” asked Rupert.

  “Your extra hour,” said Uncle Moffat.

  “I dunno!” said Rupert. He couldn’t figure out why they would be doing anything at all.

  “I know,” said Uncle Moffat. “Let’s go downtown and buy you a suit.”

  “A suit?” Rupert repeated, sure he had heard wrong.

  “Yes, every young man should be measured for a suit on his birthday. Do you own a suit, Rupert?”

  “No,” said Rupert.

  “There, you see, every young man should own a suit, period. Now I’ve got a lovely little tailor on Fourth. Great fabrics. Give him a lot of business. He likes to keep me happy. If I say make up this suit right now, he’ll do it on the spot. I’ll show you how to choose a suit fabric and what to ask for in tailoring. It will be part of your education.”

  “All right,” said Rupert. He didn’t know how to say that he would never have any place to wear a suit. He would wear it to school for the warmth if he didn’t know that the first time he did, he would be beaten to within an inch of his life. There was a whole crowd of toughs just itching to beat up anyone who did anything different and he knew better than to give them an excuse. Perhaps he could sleep in it though. He had heard of pajamas. Then he realized there was no way he could adequately explain the suit to his brothers either.

  Uncle Moffat drove downtown humming all the way. The idea of the suit seemed to be making him very happy.

  When they entered the tailor shop, Rupert saw that the walls were lined with bolts and bolts of fabric. How did anyone ever choose?

  “My young friend here needs a suit, Bernie,” said Uncle Moffat.

  “I should think,” said Bernie, sniffing. “Look at his shirt. There are holes in it.”

  “Now, now, Bernie, don’t be a snob.”

  “When do you need the suit?” asked Bernie.

  “Today,” said Uncle Moffat off handedly.

  “TODAY?” shouted Bernie.

  “Yes, within the hour. And we’ll take seven shirts at the same time.”

  “Ay yi yi,” said Bernie. “Well, you’ll have to buy ready-made shirts then.”

  “I’ll tell you what, we’ll take one ready-made to walk out with today and you can make six later and call me when they’re ready. There’s no point having a suit specially tailored for the lad if he’s going to wear some ill-fitting shirt.”

  Bernie made a face.

  “Come, let’s not be sullen about it. It’s Rupert’s birthday present. We’re not walking out of here without a suit.”

  Bernie rolled his eyes. He called his assistants away from their sewing machines in the back of the shop and put a CLOSED sign on the door.

  “Now, Rupert, let me show you what you want and don’t want in a shirt,” said Uncle Moffat.

  He led Rupert over to a wall where ready-made shirts were stacked up and down in piles according to color. There seemed to be thousands, millions of shirts lining the wall. Reds fading to oranges fading to yellows. Rows of dark blue fading lighter and lighter. Next to a row of greens doing the same. It was so beautiful. It was the most beautiful thing Rupert had ever seen. He felt a stab as he thought how his mother had told his father at Coney Island that one day she would have a suit and real crocodile pumps. How she would enjoy this. She had probably never been in such a shop, never seen how a suit was made. Why were the things that were supposed to happen to her happening to him instead? It seemed so unfair, but then he forgot all this as he was swept into having to make decisions. How did one ever pick a color or even seven with so many choices?

  Uncle Moffat pulled a brown shirt off the wall. “This one is perfect.”

  “Oh,” said Rupert, looking disappointedly at the muddy-hued fabric. “Couldn’t we have at least one splendid color?”

  “Don’t be ridiculous,” said Uncle Moffat. “I was a boy in this town. I know about mud. And chocolate. I bet you’re fond of chocolate, aren’t you, Rupert?”

  “Yes,” whispered Rupert wistfully.

  “Now let’s look at the suit fabrics.”

  Uncle Moffat had Rupert feel all the fabrics. There were worsted and cashmere, cotton and linen, polyester, velvet, and silk. There were different weights to the fabric, from seven ounces to fourteen.

  Finally, after much deliberation, Uncle Moffat said, “Well, Rupert? I’ve tried to educate you as best I can. Now it is time for you to make a decision.”

  “I’d like the warmest, heaviest suit possible,” said Rupert. “Fourteen-ounce wool, please. In a tight, warm weave.”

  “Right, we’ll take silk,” said Uncle Moffat. “The boy doesn’t know what is what. It’s spring. Summer is coming. Don’t worry, Rupert. It’s only your first time choosing a suit. You obviously took in none of my instruction, but that is why I am here to guide you. Now, let’s see, let’s have it in plain brown. Nothing too fancy.”

  “Silk it is,” said Bernie, whipping the bolt Uncle Moffat had chosen out of his hands. He took Rupert’s measurements and then whisked the fabric away to be cut and sewn and made into a suit.

  Next Uncle Moffat educated Rupert as to shirt fabrics. Rupert chose a nice cotton poly blend that didn’t require ironing.

  “Right, linen. Summer coming again,” said Uncle Moffat. “Would you like to choose the colors?”

  Rupert started to nod when Uncle Moffat said, “Of course, you wouldn’t. You have terrible taste.” And quickly picked out a brown linen that he thought would work well for the remaining six shirts.

  Half an hour later a brand-new brown silk suit and a ready-made brown shirt were on Rupert, and his old clothes were in a bag. Bernie had begged Rupert to let him burn his old clothes, but Rupert, of course, had not agreed to this.

  “Now, don’t you look a treat, if I do say so myself,” said Uncle Moffat. “You see, Rupert, money can buy happiness. Just look at yourself.”

  Rupert was standing in front of the three-way mirror and had no choice but to look at himself, but he had to admit that he looked wonderful. He looked like a different person. He looked, despite his age, lik
e a person of means and culture. A cut above his fellow man. He looked, he thought—important. He looked more important than Uncle Moffat because, as he discovered, it wasn’t just owning a good suit that made a person so but how they wore it. Uncle Moffat was portly. There was no other word for it. His cheeks were red as if his blood pressure was too high. He looked always on the verge of a good sweat. He looked, if truth be known, so bloated it was as if he were about to pop. Rupert looked cool and calm and collected. He was so thin he was like a human clothes hanger, and this, it turned out, was just what it took to show expensive clothes to their best advantage.

  “You ever done any modeling?” asked Bernie, putting the last stitch in the hem of Rupert’s pants. “You oughta consider it. You got the build. You got interesting bones in your face too. Wouldn’t have noticed it the way you were dressed before.”

  “Yes, Rupert,” said Uncle Moffat, nodding agreeably. “I’d be proud to take you anywhere now. In fact, yes, I will take you somewhere. Somewhere special. Now where shall that be? I’ll take you to my club for a late lunch. Haven’t had lunch yet and I’m starving. Are you starving, Rupert?”

  Rupert wondered what Uncle Moffat considered the hamburger and fries that he had eaten at the police station, but he certainly wasn’t going to argue against a meal and so nodded his head vigorously instead.

  “Ah, yes, of course, you are. Probably always hungry. Boys are always hungry. I was always hungry as a boy. Then the Union Club is the place to go. We can show off your new suit. We can have a good, proper lunch the way only the club can make it. Like hamburgers, Rupert? The club makes them the size of your head. They make French fries the size of your fingers. They make milk shakes the size of Niagara Falls. Let’s go.”

  Rupert was so excited he could almost not contain himself. He was finally going to get a decent meal. Normally he would be terrified to go to some rich person’s club. He couldn’t even imagine what such a place would be like except that it would be itching to throw out someone who looked like him. But with the suit on he had a sudden new confidence. He felt he could strut in anywhere and be treated like someone special. As if he had finally done the special thing he had always suspected that he would.