During the bus ride home, I had to listen to Henry rehash the whole why-does-Scarlett-have-to-join-the-agency discussion. It seemed useless to argue with him, so I just tuned him out during the ride and at strategic points would offer an occasional “uh-huh” just to make him think I was still listening.
When the bus pulled up to my stop, about a half block from my house, we decided to race to the garage. This was a competition that I would always lose, but since I had bested Henry so often in the brainteaser arena, this seemed to help balance things out.
After about a half hour of waiting for a potential client to enter our establishment, we decided to play a friendly game of darts. Friendly was probably not the right choice of words. Henry was so competitive that whenever he fell behind, he would look for a chance to rebound and gain the upper hand.
As soon as I was up by a few points, Henry brought out the heavy artillery.
“Okay, genius, try this one on for size,” he said. “You’re standing in a one-room house. It has only four walls. And each wall faces south. There’s a window on each wall. A bear walks by one of the windows. What color is the bear?”
I noticed that the sun was going down. I reached over and hit the light switch. I was actually just trying to buy myself a little extra time to solve this one if it became necessary. And since we always kept the doors closed in the garage to avoid being caught by my parents, we usually needed the overhead light to see what we were doing.
“Are you stalling, Charlie?” Henry said.
“No way.”
Henry might think that he had stumped me, but that wasn’t the case at all. I didn’t like to rush things. I was never able to think straight when I did. I set my darts on the card table and thought about what he had just said. I knew that he was trying to throw me off with his reference to the bear. The most important part of this riddle had to do with the line “each wall faces south.” That was the key. I stroked my chin and thought hard. How could each wall possibly face south? I tried to imagine a scenario where this might be possible.
“Why don’t I just tell you?” Henry said.
“Never,” I replied. “Give me another second.” I could do this. I knew it. I tried to picture a map—then a globe. And within a few seconds, I had it.
“Time’s up,” Henry said.
“Here’s your answer,” I said. “There’s only one place on earth where a one-room house with four walls facing south could exist—the North Pole. And the only bears you’d find up there are polar bears. The answer is white.”
Henry sighed and dropped his arms to his sides. He seemed defeated.
“Why do I even waste my time?” he said.
“Don’t give up now. You’re gonna stump me one of these days. You just gotta be patient.”
But before Henry could continue to beat himself up, there was a knock at the door.
He immediately seemed to light up. “A walk-in,” he said with a smile.
“Come in,” I said.
When the door swung open, neither Henry nor I could believe who was standing there. It was the last person we would ever have expected to seek us out.
CHAPTER 3
The Missing Lynx Caper
Filling the doorway, with his hands in his pockets and staring at his shoes, was Sherman Doyle.
“Sherman,” I said, “what brings you over here?”
“I was just taking a walk,” he said. “And I saw the light on. So I thought I’d stop in.”
A few weeks ago, I would have shuddered if Sherman had shown up here unannounced. But that was before. After working together on the birdnapping caper, I had learned a lot about this kid—and he didn’t scare me now. He was still a little strange, but I didn’t fear for my life anymore.
“Would you like to sit down?” I said.
Sherman pulled out a lawn chair and barely squeezed into it. This was one big kid.
I sat down opposite him.
“So, Sherm,” Henry said, “is this a social or a business call?”
Sherman was staring at the concrete floor. It seemed as if he wanted to say something but couldn’t get the words out. I waited until he raised his head and made eye contact.
“Is there anything we can help you with?” I asked.
Sherman cleared his throat. “I was hoping to talk to you about something.”
Henry sat down and joined us. He seemed to be interested in what was about to happen.
“So what is it?” I said, leaning forward in my seat.
“It’s about my brother,” Sherman answered.
Henry’s eyes widened. He kicked my leg. He knew this was going to be a whopper.
Most of the neighborhood kids knew about Sherman’s older brother, Josh. He was unlike other sixteen-year-olds. Joshua Doyle had a love affair with nature. All he ever talked about was saving the rain forests, preserving the ozone layer, or protecting any number of endangered species. And Josh wasn’t just a talker. A couple of years earlier, he took on a bulldozer that was attempting to clear a grove of maple trees and ended up in the hospital with a leg injury. From that day, he had favored his bad leg and walked unsteadily.
But Josh never complained. When asked about it, he would refer to it as his “badge of honor.” He dropped out of high school to spend more time saving the planet and its creatures. As noble as his mission sounded, most residents in the area referred to Josh not as a dedicated environmentalist and animal lover, but rather as a crazy, misguided punk. He was sincere, but at times, he was reckless.
“Is your brother having some sort of problem?” I asked.
“No, not really. I don’t think so. Well, maybe.” Sherman spoke in disjointed sentences. He was having a hard time spitting it out.
“Why don’t you tell me about it,” I said. “Maybe we can help.”
“Well…” Sherman struggled for the right words, then just blurted it out. “He’s missing. Josh is missing. For about a month now. My mom and I are getting worried.”
“Wait a minute,” Henry said. “How many times in the last year did he leave home? No offense, but he runs away all the time, doesn’t he?”
“But he always comes back. He’s never been gone for more than a week or two. And he always tells me where he’s going,” Sherman said. “This time he didn’t.”
“What’s the chance he’s just off on another one of his causes?” I asked. “I seem to remember hearing that he hitchhiked to California one time to save the sequoias.”
“And didn’t he hop a freight train to Washington once for something?” Henry added.
“He took on the lumber companies to save the spotted owl that time,” Sherman answered. “But this is different, I know it.”
“Has your mom gone to the police?” I asked.
Sherman sighed. “Yeah, but whenever they hear that it’s Josh, they just go through the motions. They fill out some paperwork, question a couple of people, and then they call my mom and say, ‘Sorry, Mrs. Doyle, with his history, your son probably ran away again.’”
“Is that what happened this time too?” I asked.
Sherman nodded.
“Let me get this straight,” Henry said. “Are you saying that you want to hire us to find Josh? Is that why you’re here?”
Sherman smiled weakly. “You see, we can’t afford a real private eye—” He stopped short. Sherman suddenly realized that he might have offended me. “I didn’t mean it like that.”
“I know what you meant. No offense taken,” I said.
Sherman dug into his jeans pocket. He pulled out a handful of change.
“I can cover a few days, I think.” He began counting the coins.
“Don’t worry about that,” I said.
Henry threw his head back. Even though things were different now between Sherman and us, Henry was never a fan of giving away the product, no matter who the client was. “We might incur a few expenses on this one, Charlie,” Henry said as he picked up the money jar and began shaking it. He glanced at She
rman sheepishly. “Nothing personal, big guy. It’s just business.”
“I’m not lookin’ for a handout,” Sherman said. “I can pay.”
I was always a little squeamish about collections. Henry, on the other hand, had no problem making it very clear to clients that payment in full was expected at our intial meeting. Although this time I had to intervene. We had just been through a harrowing experience together, and Sherman had played a major part in our escape from Rupert Olsen’s basement. Offering a little consideration was the least we could do. And on top of everything else, Sherman was sharing some pretty personal details about his family. I didn’t think it would be asking too much to help out a friend in need. We certainly weren’t vultures.
“Sherman, I would consider it an honor to help you find Josh. And just to show you how much we appreciated your help in solving the birdnapping case, I’m willing to take on the case for no charge.” I held up my hand to discourage Henry from speaking.
He shook his head, turned, and walked away. He obviously didn’t concur with my decision, but at least he wasn’t about to make a scene.
“Thanks, Charlie,” Sherman said. “I really appreciate it.”
I grabbed a pencil and a pad of paper from the table. “Okay, when’s the last time you saw Josh?”
“I think it was February twenty-second. No, it was the twenty-first. No, it was the twenty-second.”
“And did he say anything before he left?”
“No, and that’s why I’m worried. He always tells me where he’s going. And then he makes me promise not to tell my mom. ‘Just tell her I’m chasing windmills,’ he’ll say.”
“Chasing windmills?” Henry said. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Haven’t you ever read Don Quixote?” I asked.
Henry returned a blank stare.
“Miguel de Cervantes?” I said. “Never mind.” I turned to Sherman. “Is there anything else you can tell me that might help?”
“Not really.” Sherman thought hard, then dug into his pocket. “Oh, here’s a picture of Josh.” He handed it to me.
I studied it. “I’m going to want to talk to some of his friends, maybe even your mom,” I said.
“Let’s leave my mom out of this right now. She’s pretty upset. She doesn’t even know I’m here.”
“Well, I guess I’ll start with his friends, then,” I said.
“Josh doesn’t have too many close friends,” Sherman said. “He does have what you might call an on-and-off girlfriend. But I think my mom’s already talked to her.”
“I’d still like to talk to her myself,” I said.
“Okay, I’ll try to come up with some other names too,” Sherman said as he stood up. “Well…” He seemed to fumble for the right words. “Thanks…thanks a lot…I’ll see you at school.” Sherman was halfway out the door when he stopped abruptly. “You guys won’t tell anybody about this, right?”
“Clergymen, physicians, attorneys…and private investigators—we all respect client confidentiality,” I announced.
“But you won’t tell anybody, right?” he repeated.
“Not a soul,” I said.
Sherman apparently hadn’t gotten the gist of what I had said. It didn’t matter.
“And one more thing,” I said. “Not only will we locate Josh, we will personally deliver him to your front door. That’s a promise.”
“Okay,” he said enthusiastically. “Thanks.” And with that, he disappeared just as quickly as he had arrived.
I could barely keep from grinning. We had done it. We landed a real case. And we had gotten it all by ourselves. This wasn’t one of Eugene’s hand-me-downs. The brainteasers would have to wait. We were about to conduct a full-scale investigation. It was our first official missing persons case, and I for one was pumped. I found myself thinking about Sam Solomon and Episode #18—The Missing Lynx Caper.
This was the story of an eccentric owner of an exclusive Manhattan boutique that dealt in priceless furs. When the wealthy merchant disappeared into thin air, his daughter hired Sam to locate him. And let me tell you, when it came to tracking down a missing person, Sam had the instincts of a bloodhound. As you might guess, it didn’t take long for the veteran detective to determine that the missing man wasn’t being held for ransom as the police had thought. He had been kidnapped by an animal rights activist who had intended to do to the victim what the victim had done to countless minks, lynx, beavers, foxes, etc. And thanks to Sam, this enterprising businessman was able to escape a close shave—literally.
I could barely contain my enthusiasm. “So what do you think, Henry? This is what you call a legitimate case. This one could be legendary.” I didn’t get quite the reaction I was expecting.
“I really wish you would have taken his money when he offered it,” Henry whined. “We may never see it again.”
But compensation was the last thing on my mind at that moment. We were about to undertake a real caper. And once the investigation got under way, I knew that Henry would buy in and forget about the money issue. Well, actually, he’d probably never forget about the money issue.
• • •
The next day at school, we met up with Scarlett at lunch to update her on what had happened the previous afternoon. We told her about how Sherman had wandered into the garage and had presented us with a killer case. We explained all of the details we had up to that point. She unfortunately didn’t handle things the way we had hoped.
“You mean to tell me that an actual client walked into your office and you guys didn’t call me? I would have come over,” she said.
“Even if your nails were still wet?” Henry said. It wasn’t what you would call the most sincere response.
She waved him off. “I thought I was a partner now.”
Henry jumped in. “Allow me to clear up this matter. Technically, you’re an associate, not a partner. There’s a difference. You see, Charlie and I are partners. You’re a member of the agency now…and I can’t believe I just said those words…but you haven’t risen to the level of partner yet. Does that help?”
“I don’t care what you call me,” Scarlett snapped. “I just want to help. Would it have killed you to call?”
“Neither of us has a cell phone,” Henry said.
She folded her arms and sneered at me. “And you don’t have a phone in your house?”
Suddenly I had become the target. I wasn’t even part of this conversation.
“Scarlett,” I said, “it all happened so fast. I didn’t even think about it.”
“Charlie’s mom and grandma were due back from the beauty parlor any minute,” Henry said. “There was no time. But don’t worry, we’ll be sure to notify you if anything like that ever happens again.” He smiled. He was definitely enjoying this moment.
She sighed. “Okay, then, what’s next?”
“We’re meeting up with Sherman after school,” I said. “He promised to give us some contact info for a few of Josh’s friends.”
“I’m afraid to ask,” Scarlett said, “but am I part of this meeting with Sherman? Or do you plan to exclude me again?”
Right at that moment, I was wondering if Scarlett was second-guessing her decision to join up with us. I knew how Henry felt about things, but there was no way I was going to let her get frustrated enough to bolt.
“Of course you’re welcome at the meeting,” I said. “What happened yesterday was a fluke. You’re a full-fledged partn—” I caught myself. “You’re an official associate of the agency, and we value your opinion.” Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Henry with his finger in his mouth pretending to gag.
Scarlett smiled. “So, where do we meet?”
“At the bus stop,” I said.
“I am sooo looking forward to it,” Henry said sarcastically.
“Me too,” Scarlett said with a phony smile. She waved to a girlfriend, flicked her hair at us just for effect, and was off.
We had managed to withstand a pair of bruta
l classes before meeting up with Sherman after school. He was waiting for us at the bus stop. When he caught a glimpse of Scarlett, he looked at us funny.
“It’s all right. She’s a member of the agency now,” I said.
“But she’s not a partner,” Henry added.
Scarlett rolled her eyes. “Just let it go, will you?”
Sherman dropped the backpack that hung from his shoulders, slid his hand into a side pocket, fumbled for a piece of paper, and handed it to me.
“Here’s the stuff you asked for,” Sherman said, pointing to a name on the note. “That guy is probably Josh’s best friend, although like I said, he doesn’t have many friends.” Sherman slid his finger down to the next entry. “And that’s the sometimes girlfriend.”
“Perfect,” I said. “We’ll get right on it.”
Forcing a half smile, Sherman grabbed his backpack and was on his way.
“He’s still a weird guy, you know,” Henry said.
“He’s just a little misunderstood, that’s all,” I said. “But strange or not, he’s our client now and we owe him the best-possible effort.” When I took a second look at the note Sherman had given us, I noticed that he had done a thorough job of supplying us with the necessary information. He had provided not only phone numbers but addresses.
“So now what?” Henry asked. “Back to the office to plot out our course of action?”
“We can’t,” I said, thinking out loud. “I know for a fact that my mom’s home. But tomorrow could work. She’s volunteering at a food pantry in the afternoon. That should buy us enough time to plan out our strategy. Okay, then, we reconvene tomorrow at sixteen hundred hours at the usual location. Got it?”
“Sixteen hundred hours?” Scarlett said.
“That’s three o’clock tomorrow afternoon,” Henry said smugly.
I didn’t want to have to correct him, but I knew I had to do it. “Actually, it’s four o’clock,” I said.
The Camp Phoenix Caper Page 3