The Camp Phoenix Caper

by John V. Madormo

  “So now what?” Scarlett said.

  I pointed to a large set of doors. “Now we find out if Josh is somewhere in there.” We climbed the stairs and threw open one of the heavy steel doors.

  Standing at the entrance was a uniformed officer. He motioned for us to proceed down the hallway.

  We moved forward in silence and approached the front desk. “Excuse me, Officer,” I said.

  A policeman who appeared to be in his mid-fifties sat up in his chair. He flipped over the crossword puzzle he had been working on and slid it to the side. Apparently we weren’t supposed to have seen that.

  “We’re interested in finding out if you’re holding a particular individual,” I said.

  He picked up the phone and dialed. A couple of seconds later, he pressed the receiver to his ear.

  “I have three kids up here who need some help,” the officer said. “Okay, thanks.” He hung up the phone and pointed to a bench against the wall. “You can wait over there. Someone’ll be here in a minute.”

  “Thank you. Thank you very much,” I said.

  As we made our way to the waiting area, Henry tapped me on the shoulder. “So who’s our lead interrogator today?” he asked. He turned to Scarlett. “How ’bout you?” he said with a smirk. He was assuming she would pass.

  “You don’t think I can do it, do you?” she said. “Well, I have half a mind to say yes.”

  Henry wasn’t prepared for that. His expression soured. “You’re not qualified. Since Charlie talked to Zach and I questioned Deirdre, it’s his turn anyway.”

  Scarlett smiled. “I’m fine with that. Just let me know if he needs any help.”

  “Yeah, right,” Henry said.

  I was about to step in and break up another potential war of words when a tall, rugged plainclothes officer appeared.

  “So what can I do for you kids?” he said. His name tag read Detective Thomas Morgan.

  I stood to greet him. “We’d like to find out if you arrested someone about a month ago and if he’s still being held here.”

  “Why don’t you come to my office, and we’ll check the computer,” the officer said.

  We followed him around a corner, down a short hallway, and into a small, messy office. There were two desks pushed together. One was Officer Morgan’s. Behind the other sat a rather unfriendly-looking fellow. The nameplate on his desk said Detective Ray Berkland. He didn’t look happy to see us.

  “You guys can sit right there,” Officer Morgan said. He then noticed that there were only two chairs. “Hey, Ray, can I borrow one of yours?”

  Detective Berkland lifted himself out of his chair as if he were half dead. He made a grunting sound and slid a chair over.

  Officer Morgan pulled his keyboard closer. “Okay, what have you got?”

  I sat forward in my chair. “About a month ago, there was some kind of disturbance at a French restaurant here in town and a teenager was arrested for disorderly conduct. Does that sound familiar?” I asked.

  Detective Berkland sat up in his chair. He was suddenly interested. He glanced at the officer across from him.

  “It seems to ring a bell,” Officer Morgan said. He tried to appear nonchalant.

  “Well, can you tell us if the name of that teenager was Joshua Doyle?” I said.

  Detective Berkland cleared his throat. It seemed apparent that he was trying to communicate something to his partner. Berkland was stone-faced.

  “Let me punch that in,” Officer Morgan said. He stared at the screen for a few seconds. “We did pick up a young man at that restaurant about a month ago. He was initially charged with disorderly conduct. But it says here that the charges were eventually dropped and he was released.”

  “What was his name?” I asked.

  Detective Berkland slid out his chair and stood up. “Since he wasn’t prosecuted, I’m afraid we can’t release that information.”

  “So, are you saying that it wasn’t Josh?” I said.

  “That’s classified, son,” Officer Berkland said.

  “If we were newspaper reporters, you’d have to tell us,” Scarlett said in an indignant tone.

  “Well, honey, until you produce credentials proving that you’re members of the press,” the surly detective said, “I’m afraid you’re out of luck.”

  This was going nowhere. These guys were hiding something. I knew it. And I had a feeling that we could sit here for the remainder of the afternoon and learn nothing.

  Henry appeared frustrated. “I don’t get it,” he said. “Why can’t you just tell us if it was Josh or not? What difference does it make? He happens to be a friend of ours.”

  Detective Berkland seemed to be losing his patience. “I just told you why,” he said. “And if he’s such a good friend of yours, why don’t you go ask him?”

  “We can’t find him,” I said. “That’s why we came.”

  “Your friend isn’t here,” Berkland said. “Listen, kids, we have a lot of work to do. You need to go.”

  This was futile. For whatever reason, these officers were reluctant to share the identity of the individual who had been arrested that day. But the more I thought about it, the more I felt that it had to have been Josh. If it hadn’t been, then all they had to do was say no when we asked if the suspect’s name was Josh Doyle. If they had said that, we would have gladly gone away. But since they refused to confirm or deny the name of the suspect, it had to be Josh. The only question I had was why—why were they so tight-lipped about this case?

  “Can you at least tell us the date you released him?” I asked.

  “Sorry, no can do,” Officer Morgan said.

  It was time to go. I had hoped to have conducted a first-class demonstration of how to interrogate a member of law enforcement for Scarlett. That wasn’t to be. She couldn’t have been particularly impressed with my performance. She was probably wondering why she had teamed up with us in the first place. But I couldn’t worry about that now. I had to concentrate on this case and stop thinking about my bruised ego. I tried to refocus. Based on what the police hadn’t told us, I was fairly certain that Josh had been arrested and taken here, but then what? Where had he disappeared to? If he had been released, then why hadn’t he shown up at home or at his girlfriend’s? There was something else going on here. And if we could figure out why these officers seemed so uncooperative, then we might have a lead on Josh’s whereabouts.

  “Well, thanks anyway,” I said.

  Henry frowned. He was obviously disappointed that I was surrendering. If it had been up to him, we undoubtedly would have continued the verbal assault until we were physically removed from the premises. But that would have made no sense. We had gotten as much information as we were going to get. Belaboring the point would have accomplished nothing. And we might need to call on these officers in the future. Best not to burn a source.

  “Sorry, guys,” Officer Morgan said. “I wish we could have been of more help.”

  “Yeah, right,” Henry said under his breath.

  We were escorted to the entrance of the building. Officer Morgan pushed open one of the large metal doors but said nothing. We plopped down on the front steps and waited for Eugene to arrive. We could see his car parked in the lot across the street, but he wasn’t with it.

  “What a waste of an afternoon,” Scarlett said.

  “I apologize, you guys,” I said. “It wasn’t one of my better efforts.”

  “It’s not your fault,” she replied. “Even a seasoned professional would have had a hard time getting anything out of those two.”

  I was glad to hear her say that. Just when I was worried that Scarlett might think I was a hack at this job, she defended me. Even though we had learned little more than we had started with, I was feeling pretty good right at that moment.

  “Charlie, are you thinking what I’m thinking?” Henry said.

  “What?”

  “By not telling us if it was Josh who was arrested, they basically confirmed that it was him.”


  “That’s exactly what I was thinking,” I said.

  Scarlett sighed. “Then where the heck is he? And if he was released, why hasn’t anyone seen him?”

  Before we could ponder Scarlett’s question, a familiar voice in the distance caught our attention.

  “You kids all done?” It was Eugene. “So, what’d you find out?”

  For the next few minutes, we told Eugene about what had happened. We mentioned the fact that we were fairly certain that both officers were withholding information. We also told him we were sorry that he had wasted his time and gas to drive us over here. We tried again to offer gas money—and once again he refused.

  “Tell me something,” Eugene said. “Do you know the names of the officers you spoke to?”

  “Yeah,” I said. “Morgan and Berkland. They were detectives.”

  Eugene smiled.

  “You know them?” Scarlett said.

  “I know of them,” Eugene replied. “But more importantly, I know their boss. A couple of years ago, I turned him on to a smuggling operation that was taking place right under his nose. We have history, you might say.” He checked his watch. “You guys still have a few minutes?”

  “Sure,” I said.

  “Let me ask a few questions in there and see if I have any luck.”

  “Really?” I said. “You’d do that for us?”

  Eugene climbed to the top step and turned around. “Charlie, we’re all working together here. If I needed some help, I could count on you kids, right?”

  “Of course,” we answered in unison.

  “Then just consider this a professional courtesy. Be right back.” He disappeared behind the steel doors.

  While we waited for Eugene, we each tossed out our own thoughts about what might have happened to Josh—but none of us was particularly confident in our theories. We discussed what we would do next if Eugene got the cold shoulder from his contact in the department. And we all agreed on one thing—we had no idea what to do next. We sat on the steps waiting for Eugene for a good twenty minutes. We figured that the longer he was in there, the better. At one point it got very quiet. And then, as happens at least once a day, Sam Solomon popped into my head. I remembered a time when a source at a local police station shared a tip with him that enabled him to solve a case. It happened in Episode #25—The Fools Rush Inn Caper.

  In this particular story, Sam had been hired by a new bride who was worried about the couple’s finances. Money was disappearing from their joint account at an alarming rate, and her new husband denied withdrawing it. A tip from a friend at the local police department shed some light on the subject. A longtime sergeant informed Sam that they were investigating an illegal gambling operation at a newly opened club, the Fools Rush Inn. Sam soon discovered that the new groom had been gambling away hundreds of dollars each night for some time at the club. The case had been solved thanks to an inside tip from a friend in the department. I was hoping Eugene would have the same experience.

  “There he is,” Henry said as Eugene emerged from the police station.

  We all jumped to our feet to greet him.

  Eugene was grinning. “It sure pays to have friends,” he said.

  “So you found out?” I said.

  “Let’s go to the car. I’ll fill you in.”

  We raced down the steps and up to the street. We waited for Eugene to catch up. He waved for us to go ahead. Within seconds, we were all safely seated in the hearse anxiously awaiting the lowdown from Eugene.

  “So, were we right?” Henry said. He could barely contain himself.

  “You kids were right on the money,” he said. “I couldn’t be prouder of your stellar detective work.” Eugene rolled down the driver’s-side window. It was getting a little stuffy in the car. “Here’s what we’re looking at. The teenager arrested at that French restaurant here a few weeks back was indeed Josh Doyle.”

  “I knew it,” I said. “Did it have something to do with that foie gras business?”

  “It did. He was protesting there because that was one of the few restaurants in the area still serving it.”

  Henry sat forward. “Okay, then, so they arrested him and charged him with disturbing the peace, right?”

  “Not at first,” Eugene said. “Apparently Josh kept giving them bogus names. They didn’t know who he was for a while. So they decided to take his fingerprints. When they couldn’t find a match in their files, they sent the prints to other departments in the area. And it didn’t take long to find a match.”

  “In Oak Grove, I’ll bet. He was arrested there,” I said.

  “Precisely.”

  “And so then they charged him with disturbing the peace?” Henry said.

  “Yep,” Eugene said. He pulled a key from his pocket and started up the hearse.

  “Wait a minute,” I said. “So where is Josh now?”

  Eugene turned the engine off. “The rest of this story is off the record. It was a private conversation between friends. You can’t go public with any of it. Understand?”

  We all nodded. This was getting better by the minute.

  “They have no idea where Josh is,” Eugene said. “He’s disappeared. One minute he was there. The next minute he wasn’t.”

  “You mean he escaped?” Scarlett said.

  Eugene shrugged. “They tell me he couldn’t have escaped. They say it’s impossible. There’s a uniformed officer stationed at every entrance.”

  “Then what do they think happened?” she said.

  “They just don’t know,” Eugene said.

  “So why all the mystery?” I asked. “Why couldn’t they just tell us that he was there and then he wasn’t there? I don’t get it.”

  Eugene smiled. “That one’s easy. It’s called covering your butt. You see, it wouldn’t look very good for a police department to have to admit that they lost a prisoner. It would be kind of embarrassing. And since this was a relatively minor offense, they just wiped it off the books. It’s like it never happened.”

  As we sat in the hearse, a yellow school bus pulled up in front of the police station. On its side were the words Camp Phoenix. Seconds later a long line of teens paraded out the front door of the station and onto the bus.

  “Eugene,” Henry said, “how do you think Josh escaped?”

  Eugene scratched his head. “He must have slipped out somehow. It’s a mystery. Maybe he blended in with a group of people leaving the station. Normal folks go into police stations for any number of reasons—asking for directions, paying parking tickets, reporting a dog bite—you name it. It’s the only thing I can think of.”

  I found myself watching the kids filing onto the Camp Phoenix bus. They were all teenage boys. And suddenly it got me to thinking.

  “Wait a minute,” I said, pointing to the bus. “I know exactly where he is.”

  CHAPTER 11

  The Uncivil Marriage Caper

  As we sat there, I could barely contain myself. My head was spinning. All the clues had been right there in front of me. It had taken until now for things to click.

  “So, where is he?” Henry said.

  “Don’t you see? It all makes perfect sense. The police arrested Josh a month ago. He wouldn’t give them his name. They took his fingerprints. No match. So they sent them out. Suddenly, a match—in Oak Grove. But while they were waiting for the results, Colonel Culpepper and his Camp Phoenix bus pulled up. The cops rounded up all the kids headed to the boot camp. In the process, Josh slipped into the line and blended in. Before they knew it, he was gone. I’m telling you—that’s where he is.”

  Eugene started the car up and merged into traffic.

  “So Clifton City must have cut the same deal with this colonel guy that Oak Grove did?” Henry said.

  “They did. Don’t you remember?” I said. “When we saw that press conference in town, Culpepper was telling the reporters that if they didn’t think his methods would work, all they had to do was talk to the mayor of Clifton City. He’s
there, all right. He’s gotta be.”

  We were approaching the entrance ramp for the interstate when Scarlett poked me on the arm.

  “Okay, so let’s say that Josh pretended he was part of some other group and managed to sneak out of the police station,” she said. “What’s to say he mixed in with the kids headed to Camp Phoenix? It could have been any group.”

  “I’ll tell you why,” I said. “Because we already saw him with Culpepper.”

  “What are you talking about?” she said.

  “He was at that press conference. We saw him there.”

  After exiting the interstate, we could see the Welcome to Oak Grove, Illinois sign in the distance.

  “Charlie, I don’t get it,” Henry said. “If you saw him at the press conference, why didn’t you say anything?”

  “Because I didn’t realize it until now. Don’t you remember seeing two kids on the stage? They were dressed in army fatigues. And they had on helmets and goggles.”

  “I remember them,” Scarlett said.

  “One of the kids had a limp. Does that sound familiar?” I said.

  “Yeah…yeah…I do remember him,” Henry said. It was all coming together for him now too. “Of course, that was him. That was Josh. He’s been there all this time.”

  As we pulled up to a red light and stopped, Eugene turned toward us. “Charlie, I have to give you credit. That was a great demonstration of deductive reasoning. I’m proud of you.”

  “So is that it?” Scarlett said. “We solved the case, right? We can tell Sherman and his mom where they can find Josh and we’re done.”

  “Not quite,” I said. “This is still a hypothesis. We can’t share our findings with the client until we’ve confirmed his whereabouts. The next thing we have to do is contact Camp Phoenix and determine if Josh is really there.”

  “So, if they say that he is…then we’re done, right?” Scarlett said.

  “If the Camp Phoenix brass tells us that Josh is a resident at their compound, then we’re only half done. Remember—we not only agreed to locate Josh, we promised to personally deliver him to Sherman and his mom. Once we’ve accomplished that, then our jobs are done. And then we can finally say, ‘Case closed.’”