The Camp Phoenix Caper

by John V. Madormo

  “Mom,” he said. “If you want me to get the muffler on your car fixed, I’m gonna need your keys.”

  Gram reached into an imaginary pants pocket, fished around for a minute, and pulled out an invisible set of keys. She set them down in front of my dad and smiled.

  By the expression on his face, it was easy to tell that he was getting tired of the games. He let out a long sigh, leaned over, and flipped on the television next to the dinner table. The local noon news was in progress.

  “Yesterday Mayor Wilde and council members unveiled an experimental rehabilitation program for young offenders in the area,” the news anchor began. “And earlier today, the first group of teenagers held in Oak Grove’s juvenile detention facility were taken to the Camp Phoenix compound, just northeast of the city.”

  I watched the news report as a long line of teens boarded a yellow school bus.

  “Under the direction of Colonel Harvard Culpepper, the camp director, the young recruits will undergo a regimen of classroom instruction, manual labor, and what the colonel refers to as suggestive meditation,” the newscaster said.

  “Lunch is ready. Turn the TV off, please,” my mom said.

  My dad turned off the set but continued reading his paper. “Will you look at this,” he said.

  “What?” my mom replied.

  “Someone else has been arrested at that fancy French restaurant in Clifton City. And for the same thing that happened a few weeks ago.”

  “Who was arrested? For what?” I said.

  “It was a woman this time,” my dad said. “She was picked up for disturbing the peace.”

  “What did she do, Mr. Collier?” Henry said.

  My dad set the newspaper down. “She went into the restaurant kitchen and started screaming at the chef.”

  “Why?” Scarlett said. “What did the chef do?”

  “Well, it seems that this particular restaurant serves a rather controversial delicacy—something called foie gras. I hope I’m pronouncing it correctly.”

  “What’s so controversial about it?” I asked.

  My grandmother slammed her fist on the table. “I’ll tell you,” she said. She started wiping the white makeup from her face with a napkin. “A lot of people don’t like how they make it—including me.”

  I couldn’t remember seeing my grandmother quite this upset before.

  “Well, how is it made, Mrs. Collier?” Henry asked.

  “It’s not really the type of conversation we should be having at mealtime,” my dad said.

  My mom placed a plate full of grilled cheese sandwiches in front of us. “I agree,” she said. “Why don’t we table this discussion?”

  “It’s too important to put off,” Gram said. “This is just the kind of thing these kids should know about.”

  My mom looked to my dad for support. He was not about to take on Grandma. He hid behind his newspaper.

  Grandma scooted up to the table. “This is how they make this stuff. See what you think.”

  My mom made a face. She apparently knew what was coming. But it was clear from the looks on the faces of Henry and Scarlett that they felt differently. They were all ears.

  “In order to make this stuff, workers ram pipes down the throats of geese and ducks.”

  “Ooooh,” Scarlett squealed.

  “Then they force-feed them huge amounts of grain and fat, which causes their livers to swell up to an enormous size. Then they kill them and sell the swollen livers as foie gras.”

  “And this is legal?” Scarlett said.

  “In some places it still is,” Gram said. “I just keep thinking of those poor, defenseless creatures.”

  I tried to picture what Gram had just described. It was so creepy. It just didn’t seem right. And then something hit me. Something that she had said.

  “Gram, what did you just say? What did you call those animals?”

  “The ducks and geese?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Poor, defenseless creatures. Why? You don’t think so?”

  “No, I do. I do.”

  My mom set a bowl of potato salad on the table. “Okay, enough talk. Let’s eat.”

  It was the second time today that someone had used that phrase. It suddenly got me to thinking about Josh.

  “Dad, did you say that someone else had been arrested at that restaurant for doing the same thing?”

  “Yeah,” he said. “About three weeks ago, I think.”

  “Man or woman?” I asked.

  “Actually, it was a teenage boy,” he said. “Why do you want to know?”

  “I was just wondering. That’s all.”

  Henry, Scarlett, and I all looked at each other at the same moment. This couldn’t be a coincidence. We were now officially on Josh’s trail.

  CHAPTER 9

  The Died in the Wool Caper

  The three of us sat at the table staring at the potato salad. Gram’s story of how they made foie gras had caused us to lose our appetites.

  “I don’t know about anyone else, but I’m not really too hungry right now,” I said.

  “Me neither,” Henry said.

  “Scarlett,” my mom said. “How about you?”

  Scarlett held her lips tightly closed, almost as if she was afraid she was going to hurl right then and there.

  “You see what you did, Ma,” my dad said. “Everyone’s too sick to eat after that story.”

  “Well, what was I supposed to do? They needed to know the truth,” Gram said. “And come to think of it, you were the one who brought up the story in the first place.”

  As Gram and my dad continued their heated exchange, Scarlett, Henry, and I slipped out. I motioned to my mom that we were headed up to my room. She nodded her approval. As we headed up the stairs, Scarlett stopped in mid-stride.

  “I may never eat again,” she said.

  “Yeah, right,” Henry said. “You’ll be hungry in ten minutes. Just wait.”

  I led the others into my room. I was so worked up about the foie gras story and the connection to Josh that I almost didn’t realize that this was the first time a girl, other than my mom or grandmother, of course, had ever been in my room. Now that it had finally happened, it didn’t seem like such a big deal. I was thankful that it was a Saturday. Before I left the house this morning, my mom had made me clean my room. I was glad there wasn’t dirty underwear all over the floor.

  “So that had to be Josh protesting at that restaurant a few weeks ago, right?” Henry said.

  “It all makes perfect sense,” I said. “First Zach tells us to look for him in a jail in one of the surrounding towns. Clifton City is just one town over.”

  “And then Deirdre tells us that Josh used the words ‘poor, defenseless creatures’ before he left,” Scarlett said. “He had to be referring to the ducks and geese.”

  “And knowing the kinds of causes that Josh supports,” I said, “this foie gras thing sounds just like something he would do.”

  There was a knock at the door.

  “Come in,” I said.

  My mom walked in holding plate of grilled cheese sandwiches. “I warmed them up,” she said. “Anyone interested?”

  “I’ll take one,” Henry said.

  “How can you eat anything right now?” Scarlett said.

  I reached in and helped myself to a sandwich as well.

  Scarlett glared at me.

  “What?” I said. “It’s lunchtime.”

  “Relax, it’s not like we’re eating goose liver or anything,” Henry said.

  Scarlett immediately grabbed her mouth. She looked pale. “Where’s the bathroom?” She gagged.

  “Follow me,” my mom said. As she led Scarlett out, she looked back and made a face at us. “You boys are something else sometimes.”

  “What’d I say?” Henry mumbled. His mouth was full.

  A few minutes later, Scarlett rejoined us. The color had now returned to her face.

  “How do you feel?” I asked.

  �
��Better,” she said. “No thanks to you guys.”

  “Listen,” Henry said. “If you want to be an official member of this agency, you’re going to have to toughen up.” Henry looked to me for support. “Right?”

  “Well, I guess.”

  “You guess?” he said. “Aren’t you the one telling me all the time about the kinds of scrapes Sam Solomon gets himself into and all the creepy stuff that happens to him? Just the other day, you said something about Sam and a dead body. What was that about?”

  Henry was right. He was referring to Episode #30—The Died in the Wool Caper. It was the story of a sheep rancher who had vanished. Sam had been hired by his daughter to find him. This episode did not have a happy ending. Sam spent eight hours up close and personal with a decaying corpse. I didn’t dare tell Scarlett about that one.

  “Who’s Sam Solomon anyway?” she said.

  “Who’s Sam Solomon?” I repeated in disbelief. I glanced at Henry. He had one of those I-told-you-so looks on his face. Now that Scarlett had insulted my hero, he was in his glory. He had to assume I’d join his camp. I didn’t want to overreact. I had to relax. I had to tell myself that every person has his or her own passion. I didn’t know what Scarlett’s was. But I knew that if I allowed myself to be bothered by Scarlett’s ignorance of the world’s greatest literary detective—and I let her know exactly how I felt—then she might decide to bolt. And I didn’t want that. So I decided to ignore the whole thing and instead get down to business.

  “All right,” I said. “We’ve got some work to do. I’m guessing that Josh is in the Clifton City jail. And since he probably refused to give the authorities his name or gave them a bogus one, he might still be sitting there.”

  “For weeks?” Henry said. “You’re gonna keep a kid locked up that long for disturbing the peace? I doubt that, Charlie. Don’t you think they would have released him by now?”

  “If they did, then where is he?” Scarlett said. “He would either have contacted his mom or at least his girlfriend if he’d gotten out…and he hasn’t done either.”

  I opened a desk drawer and pulled out a map of the area. I opened it up and laid it out on the bed.

  “Okay, now,” I said, pointing to the map. “Here’s where we are.” I then slid my finger all the way across to the other side. “And here’s Clifton City.”

  “That’s gotta be fifteen or twenty miles,” Henry said. “Do you actually expect us to ride our bikes over there?”

  “Well, it’s not the distance I’m worried about,” I said. “It’s this.” I pointed to a four-lane interstate highway. “There’s no way we can cross that on bikes.”

  “Then how are we going to get there?” Scarlett said.

  “By car, of course.”

  Henry looked at me skeptically. He knew that we’d never convince our parents to drive us over there. They’d been trying to thwart our little detective agency for some time now. Even if we came up with a story that sounded legitimate, they’d eventually figure it out. I had another idea in mind regarding transportation. But before I could share it with the others, Scarlett chimed in.

  “So, who can drive us? Your parents?” she asked. Her question was directed at me.

  “Are you serious?” I said. “My parents would never be a party to this.”

  She turned to Henry.

  “Don’t look at me,” he said. “Mine feel the same way. They’d like nothing better than to see this agency just go away. They think it’s too dangerous.”

  Since Scarlett seemed so intent upon enlisting our parents, I decided to toss the ball in her court.

  “What about your folks?” I said.

  “Are you kidding?” she said. “They don’t even know I’m here right now. They’d never agree to help us with any of this. And I have no intention of asking.”

  I began folding up the map.

  “I guess we need a new plan then, huh?” Scarlett said.

  I opened the desk drawer and slid the map in. “The old plan will work just fine.”

  “Huh?” she said.

  “Be right back,” I said.

  I left Henry and Scarlett in my room, slipped into the hallway, down the stairs, and made my way to Gram’s bedroom and knocked on the door.

  “Enter at your own risk,” she said in a muffled voice.

  When I opened the door, I thought I had been transported into the center ring of the circus. Gram was dressed in a lion tamer’s outfit. She was holding a chair in one hand and a whip in the other.

  “Not too close, sonny,” she said. “Sheba doesn’t like strangers.”

  I smiled. Gram never disappointed me.

  “Back…back in your cage, sweetheart. We have company.” She appeared to be talking to an oversize pillow balanced on top of a lamp shade, which rested on her nightstand. Meet Sheba, the queen of beasts. Gram leaned over so as not to be overheard by the lioness. “I’ve never really used this thing on her,” she said, referring to the whip. “It’s just to get her attention.” She set down the chair and took a seat. “So, what can I do for you?” she said.

  “Gram, I don’t mean to interrupt, but I have a favor to ask.”

  “Anything for a patron of the big top,” she said.

  I sat down on the edge of the bed. “You know we’re working on a big missing persons case, right?”

  She nodded.

  “Well, we have reason to believe that our person in question may be in the Clifton City lockup, and we need a ride over there to confirm our suspicions. I know it’s a long haul, and I wouldn’t ask if there was any other way of getting there.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “You’re sure about this?”

  “I wouldn’t say sure. But I am fairly confident,” I said. “All the evidence points in that direction.”

  She got up and put her hand on my shoulder. “If it were in my power, I’d be happy to run you over there. But, right at the moment, my car’s headed to the shop for some tricky exhaust work. Your dad just left with it a few minutes ago.”

  “When will it be done?” I asked.

  She threw her arms up. “No one knows. The car’s over thirty years old. The last time we took it in, they had to special order the parts. It took over a week. I wish I could help, Charlie. I’m sorry.”

  “That’s okay, Gram. Thanks anyway.”

  She kissed me on the forehead and suddenly lunged for her whip. “Bad Sheba, bad girl.”

  Since Sheba was misbehaving, I thought it best to leave. When I returned to my room, I didn’t know what to expect. I should have known better than to have left Henry and Scarlett alone. I half expected to find two lifeless bodies. Instead I found Henry at the computer and Scarlett texting a friend. No damage done…thankfully.

  Henry lifted his eyes from the keyboard. “So, do we have a ride?” he said.

  “No go,” I said. “My grandma’s car is in the shop.”

  “Well, then maybe she could borrow your parents’ car,” Henry said. “What do you think?”

  It was hard to keep from laughing. “Are you joking?” I said. “My dad doesn’t let her anywhere near that car. You know how she drives.”

  “Oh yeah,” Henry said.

  We were back to square one. It seemed that we had run out of options. There didn’t appear to be anyone who might be willing to take us. And then all at once, it hit me. Of course! Why hadn’t I thought of it sooner?

  “Have either of you ever ridden in the back of a hearse?” I said.

  CHAPTER 10

  The Fools Rush Inn Caper

  Your money’s no good here, sailor,” Eugene said as he pulled the hearse onto the main highway and accelerated.

  With the price of gas these days, and the fact that Eugene’s car was anything but fuel efficient, I thought that the least we could do was to offer him a few dollars for his trouble, but he wouldn’t hear of it.

  “Anytime I can help out a fellow P.I. in search of the truth,” he said, “I’m only too happy to lend a hand.”

 
“We appreciate it, Eugene,” I said. Henry, Scarlett, and I sat in the backseat of Eugene’s hearse. It was one of the biggest and most comfortable backseats I’d ever been in. Since it was the place where the family of the deceased would sit during a funeral procession, I guess it was only fitting to make them as comfortable as possible while they mourned the loss of a loved one.

  As we drove through the outskirts of Oak Grove, I explained to Eugene everything that had taken place since we had last spoken. I told him about the interrogations of Zach and Deirdre—and about how tidbits of those conversations, along with information provided by my dad and grandma, led us to the conclusion that Josh was being held in the Clifton City jail.

  “Well, it sounds like you kids may just be on to something,” he said.

  Eugene sped up as we turned onto the entrance ramp and merged onto the interstate. We would only have to take it till the next exit. But even that short a distance on an expressway would have been far too dangerous to have negotiated on bikes—not to mention the fact that it was illegal to ride a bicycle on an interstate. This was our only option, and we knew we were lucky to have found someone available to transport us. And it was even better that it was Eugene since we didn’t have to make up a story about why we needed to visit a jail in a nearby town.

  The entire trip took about thirty-five minutes. Eugene pulled up right in front of the Clifton City Police Department. And as always seems to happen whenever people get a good look at Eugene’s mode of transportation, there were plenty of stares. Henry, Scarlett, and I jumped from the car. This would be a good opportunity for Scarlett to watch a pro extract information from the authorities. There was a science to it. Hopefully she’d be paying close attention.

  I poked my head through the passenger’s-side window. “Are you going to stay here, Eugene? Or should we look for you someplace else?”

  “I’ll pull into that lot over there,” he said, pointing across the street.

  “But that says authorized vehicles only,” Henry said. It was the official lot for police vehicles.

  “They won’t bother me,” Eugene said. “You forget—I have special privileges at most of these places.”

  “Oh yeah,” I said. I waved good-bye and joined the others as Eugene pulled away from the curb.