The Orange Outlaw

by Ron Roy

  Here’s what kids, parents,

  and teachers have to say

  to Ron Roy, author of

  the A to Z Mysteries series:

  “I really like your books, more than Christmas, more than Halloween, more than my birthday”

  —Will D.

  “Your books are so good I wish there was another letter of the alphabet!”

  —Max M.

  “You should write a book about yourself and title it The Awesome Author, because that’s exactly what you are!”

  —Whitley B.

  “Your books are so different from most early readers. More exciting, but real. I am one mom who really appreciates your talents!”

  —Carolyn R.

  “Thank you for helping our kids find the love of reading! They have the A to Z Mystery fever. Watching the students as they figure out the mysteries has been fun.”

  —Jennifer S.

  This book is dedicated to my parents,

  Leo “Zeke” Roy and Marie Jeanne Roy.

  —R.R.

  For Arthur Davis, a big A to Z fan.

  —J.S.G.

  CHAPTER 1

  Dink, Josh, and Ruth Rose stood on Uncle Warren’s balcony. Nine floors below, the cars, buses, and taxis of New York City zoomed by.

  As dusk turned to night, the city’s lights began to blink on. People were strolling to restaurants and theaters.

  Dink’s uncle stepped onto the balcony. “That’s a pretty sight, isn’t it?” he said.

  “It’s great,” Dink said. “I feel like an eagle up here.”

  “Thanks for inviting us for the weekend,” Josh told him.

  “You are entirely welcome, my boy,” Uncle Warren said.

  “And thanks for inviting us to your block party,” Ruth Rose said. “I’ve never been to one before.”

  Josh let out a chuckle. “My little brothers have block parties all the time,” he said. “They bring their blocks out to the sandbox and throw them at each other.”

  Uncle Warren laughed. “In New York City, we often have parties where everyone on the block is invited,” he explained. “Tonight we plan to raise money for the Central Park Zoo.”

  “Why does the zoo need money?” asked Ruth Rose.

  “Some of the animals need more space,” Uncle Warren said.

  “Can they make all that money from one party?” Josh asked, gazing down at the street.

  “Tonight is just the beginning,” Uncle Warren said. “The zoo will be raising money for at least a year.”

  He looked at his watch. “We’d better get going. But first, I want to show you something.”

  The kids followed Dink’s uncle through the living room to a small study at the back of the apartment. The room held a desk, a chair, and tall shelves crammed with books.

  On the desk lay a painting of a rowboat floating on a pond.

  “Do you like it?” Uncle Warren asked.

  “It’s pretty,” Ruth Rose said. “I like the flowers on the water.”

  “Those are lily pads,” Uncle Warren said. “This was painted a long time ago by a man named Claude Monet. It’s very valuable.”

  “Is the painting yours?” Dink asked.

  “I wish it were, Donny” his uncle said. “My friend Forest Evans just bought it vacationing in France. He shipped it to me for safekeeping. He’ll collect this beauty when he returns to New York in a couple of days.”

  Uncle Warren looked at his watch. “It’s time to go downstairs,” he said. “Help me shut off a few lights.”

  The kids walked around switching off lights.

  “Leave the one over the kitchen table on!” Dink’s uncle called.

  In the kitchen, a hanging light shone down on a wooden bowl filled with oranges. Dink was tempted to take one but decided to wait till later.

  They left the apartment and Uncle Warren locked the door. Then they crossed the hall and crowded into the small elevator. Dink pushed the button that said LOBBY.

  “What happens to all the cars when you have a block party?” Josh asked as they rode down.

  “The police seal off the street,” Uncle Warren explained. “You’ll see.”

  A minute later, they left the elevator, crossed the lobby, and walked to the front door.

  “Hello, kids,” said Roger, the doorman. He looked like royalty in his crisp uniform and pointy mustache. “The block party sure has drawn a lot of people!”

  “Are you going?” Ruth Rose asked him.

  He shook his head. “Afraid not, missy. I have to stay at the door. But I’ll be able to see a lot from here. Have fun! I hear there’ll be lots of good stuff to eat.”

  “Awesome!” Josh said, rubbing his belly.

  “Still hungry, Josh?” Uncle Warren asked. “Didn’t I feed you enough?”

  Josh grinned. “That was two hours ago!”

  “Josh is like a baby wolf,” Ruth Rose said. “He needs to eat ten times a day.”

  The kids and Uncle Warren walked outside.

  It was a warm night in June, and the street was crowded. Music, voices, and food smells filled the air.

  “This is so cool, Uncle Warren,” Dink said. “We’re standing right where cars and buses usually drive!”

  “Yes,” Uncle Warren said, “and tomorrow morning, they’ll be back.”

  “Evening, Mr. Duncan,” a woman behind them said. She was stooped and had a lined face and wild orange hair.

  “Hello, Miss Booker,” Uncle Warren said. “You haven’t met my nephew Donny and his friends, have you? Kids, Miss Booker is the building manager.”

  The kids each said hello and shook Miss Booker’s hand. She was wearing a raincoat even though the sky was clear.

  “A pleasure,” the woman said. “Enjoy the party.”

  She turned around and entered the building. Through the glass door, Dink saw her talk to Roger. After a minute, she walked toward the elevator.

  “What does a building manager do?” Josh asked.

  “Many things,” Uncle Warren said. “She fixes leaky faucets, calls electricians, and makes sure the building is kept clean. She’ll even deliver packages to my door so Roger doesn’t have to leave his station.”

  “Does she live here, like you?” Ruth Rose asked.

  Uncle Warren nodded. “Miss Booker has a small apartment in the basement,” he said.

  Suddenly, Josh stopped dead in his tracks. “You guys aren’t gonna believe this,” he said, “but I just saw a flying watermelon!”

  CHAPTER 2

  Josh led the group over to a guy juggling fruit. Big fruit! A watermelon, a grapefruit, a cantaloupe, and a pineapple circled through the air over the man’s head.

  “My mother would tell him not to play with his food,” Josh whispered.

  A boy a little taller than Dink stood in front of the man. “Ready, Dad?” he asked.

  When the man nodded, the kid tossed a bunch of bananas into the air.

  Everyone watching said, “Oooooh!” as the bananas joined the rest of the fruit.

  Not far from the juggler, the kids noticed a man in a hat and vest leading a pony around a ring. Suddenly, an orangutan dressed as a clown leaped onto the pony. The ape stood on his head as the pony galloped faster and faster.

  While everyone cheered, a woman also wearing a hat and vest passed out flyers. Dink took one and stuck it in his pocket.

  The man clapped his hands, and the pony jumped into a trailer with the ape still on its back.

  Josh started down the street. “Look at the dummy!” he said.

  “Takes one to know one,” Dink said, grinning at Josh.

  “I think he means the wooden one,” Ruth Rose said.

  On a small stage sat a man with a wooden doll on his lap. The two were talking to each ot
her.

  “I’m hungry!” the dummy said. His hinged mouth opened and closed as he spoke, and his bright eyes moved from side to side.

  “Go to sleep,” the man answered in a deeper voice.

  “Feed me, or I’ll report you for dummy abuse!” the dummy said.

  “How do they do that?” Josh asked. The man’s voice seemed to be coming out of the dummy’s mouth.

  The man pulled a cookie from an open bag at his feet. He grinned at the audience and ate it.

  “Hey gimme one of those!” his dummy yelled.

  “No.”

  “Yes!”

  “No,” the man said. “You’ve already had dessert.”

  “Gimme a cookie, or I stop talking,” the dummy said.

  The audience laughed.

  The man sighed and rolled his eyes. “Oh, all right. But just one.”

  The man reached down and took a second cookie from the bag. He put it in the dummy’s mouth. “There, happy now?”

  The dummy chewed, swallowed, and burped. The audience loved it. “Thank you,” the dummy said to the man.

  “You’re welcome,” the man said. Holding the dummy in his arms, he stood up and bowed.

  “Hey, mister. Where’d that cookie go?” Josh called out.

  The man smiled at Josh. “Down into his wooden tummy!”

  Josh laughed. He turned to Dink, Ruth Rose, and Uncle Warren. “That dummy made me hungry,” he said.

  “How about some pizza?” Uncle Warren asked. “I think I noticed a vendor selling slices.”

  The four walked to the pizza stand and bought slices. They ate them as they enjoyed more of the block party.

  When Dink started yawning, his uncle led the group back to the building. Roger was standing just inside the lobby door.

  “Did you have a good time?” he asked.

  “It was great,” Dink said.

  “I think the evening will be a big success,” Uncle Warren said. “Good night, Roger.”

  “I sure hope so,” Roger said. “Night, Mr. Duncan.”

  Uncle Warren pushed the button to call the elevator. A minute later, they entered his apartment.

  “Why don’t you kids get ready for bed, and then we can see what’s on TV?” he suggested, heading for his study.

  Just as Ruth Rose picked up her backpack, they heard Dink’s uncle shout.

  The kids ran down the hall and practically bumped into Uncle Warren. His face was white, and he looked sick.

  “Uncle Warren, what’s the matter?” Dink asked.

  “The … the painting,” Dink’s uncle stammered. “Someone’s stolen Forest’s painting!”

  CHAPTER 3

  Dink looked past his uncle into the study. The painting was gone.

  “I’ve got to call the police,” Uncle Warren said. He hurried toward the kitchen, leaving the kids standing in the hallway.

  “Who could have taken it?” Ruth Rose asked.

  “And how?” wondered Josh. “The door was locked.”

  “Kids, come quickly!” Dink’s uncle yelled from the other end of the apartment.

  They ran back down the hallway and into the kitchen.

  “Look at that!” Uncle Warren said, pointing at the kitchen table.

  The tabletop was littered with orange juice and peels. The fruit bowl was overturned. More peels and dribbles of juice covered the floor.

  “Yuck, it’s all sticky!” Josh said, backing away from a small puddle.

  “This is terrible!” Uncle Warren said as he called the police.

  “Guys, look!” Ruth Rose was pointing to an orange peel near the balcony.

  The kids walked over, and Ruth Rose opened the balcony door. “There’s juice on the door handle, too,” she said, wiping her hand on her jeans.

  They found more orange peels on the balcony.

  “Guy must’ve been hungry,” Josh observed.

  Dink looked down over the balcony railing. “Could this be how the thief got into the apartment?” he asked.

  “How?” Josh asked. “On a hang glider? Dink, we’re ten stories up, remember?”

  Uncle Warren joined them. “A detective will be here soon,” he said. Then he noticed the orange peels all over the balcony. “Goodness!”

  The kids started to pick up the orange peels.

  “Leave them,” Uncle Warren said. “The police said not to touch anything.”

  They walked into the living room and sat down to wait.

  “Forest will be devastated,” Uncle Warren said. “Thank goodness he had the painting insured! At least he’ll get his money back.”

  Suddenly Roger’s voice came over the small speaker next to the door. “Mr. Duncan, there’s a detective here to see you. Shall I send him up?”

  Uncle Warren jumped up and ran to the door. Pressing the TALK button on the speaker, he said, “Thank you, Roger.” Then he opened the door and walked into the hall.

  The kids sat on the sofa staring at the front door. After a few moments, they heard the elevator door open. Dink’s uncle said, “Yes, this is the place. I’m Warren Duncan.”

  Uncle Warren walked back in, followed by a tall man wearing a dark suit and tie.

  “Kids, this is Detective Frank Costello,” Dink’s uncle said.

  The man nodded at the kids, then looked around the room. He had black eyes, dark, swept-back hair, and a nose that looked as if it had been broken.

  “Where was the painting?” Detective Costello asked.

  “Back here,” Uncle Warren said, leading him down the hall toward the study.

  “Let’s go talk to Roger,” Ruth Rose said.

  “Why?” asked Josh.

  “Maybe he saw someone sneaking around,” she answered.

  “Good idea,” Dink said. He grabbed a pad and scribbled a note to his uncle. “Okay, let’s go.” He and Josh followed Ruth Rose to the elevator.

  In the lobby, they found Roger at his desk near the front door. Through the glass, Dink could see that the block party was winding down.

  “Going out again?” Roger asked the kids.

  Dink shook his head. “Someone stole a valuable painting from my uncle’s apartment!” he said.

  Roger jumped from his seat. “A theft in our building? I can’t believe it!”

  “It happened while we were at the block party,” Josh said. “The creep ate all the oranges, too!”

  “We were wondering if you noticed anyone strange,” Ruth Rose put in.

  Roger shook his head. “I was here the entire time and saw only people who live here,” he said. “Absolutely no one else. …”

  Roger closed his eyes, then opened them slowly. “I just remembered. Mrs. Cornelius on the ninth floor called down about an hour ago. She thought she saw someone on her balcony. I offered to go up and check, but she said not to bother.”

  “Is her balcony below Dink’s uncle’s?” Ruth Rose asked.

  Roger nodded. “All the balconies on the rear of the building are directly above or below each other.”

  Ruth Rose looked at Dink and Josh. “Then maybe she saw the thief!”

  CHAPTER 4

  Dink explained about the orange peels they’d found on his uncle’s balcony.

  Roger shook his head. “But how would a thief climb the building?” he asked.

  “Why don’t we go outside and take a look?” Josh suggested. “Maybe we’ll find a clue.”

  “Kids, it’s pretty late,” Roger said. “Perhaps you should wait till tomorrow. …”

  “We’ll only stay a minute,” Dink said.

  “Well, okay.” Roger directed them to a metal door around the corner from the elevator.

  Dink slid back a long bolt and shoved the door open. They walked out into a narrow, well-lit space behind the building. It was completely enclosed except for an alley that led to the street. Next to the building, a Dumpster sat in the shadows.

  “I wonder,” Ruth Rose said, staring at the Dumpster. “What if the thief climbed on top of that? Could he reach the
first balcony?”

  Dink stared up. “The first two floors don’t have balconies,” he observed. “Even standing on the Dumpster, I don’t see how the crook could have gotten up or down this way.”

  “Then he had to go through the front door,” Josh said. “But if Roger didn’t see him …”

  Just then, an angry voice came out of the darkness. “What are you doing back here? This is private property!”

  “Who … who’s there?” Dink asked.

  A figure walked out of the shadows. It was Miss Booker. She didn’t look happy to see them.

  “It’s just us,” Dink said. “My uncle is Mr. Duncan. We met you at the block party earlier tonight.”

  The woman stopped a few feet from the kids. Her hands were jammed into her coat pockets. She wore a cap pulled down over her orange hair. “Why are you kids out here?” she asked.

  “There was a robbery in my uncle’s apartment,” Dink said.

  Miss Booker nodded. “I know. Roger just told me.”

  “We thought the crook might have come this way,” Ruth Rose said.

  “Yeah,” Josh said, “except he’d have to have wings.”

  Miss Booker looked up the side of the building. She touched the bricks with a long finger. “A few years ago, I could’ve climbed this no problem,” she said.

  The kids stared at the woman.

  Miss Booker smiled. “When I was your age, my father and mother owned a carnival. My brothers did the high-wire act. They were known as the Flying Bookers. I was the girl on the trapeze.”

  “Um, did you happen to see anyone in the alley?” Dink asked.

  Miss Booker shook her head. “The alley was blocked off,” she said.

  “Blocked off? How?” Ruth Rose asked.

  “I’ll show you.” The kids followed Miss Booker down the alley toward the front of the building.

  “Right here,” Miss Booker said, stopping where the alley met the street. “There was a trailer parked here during the block party.”

  “A trailer?” Dink asked, trying to remember.

  Just then, Roger opened the front door and leaned out. “Donald, your uncle wants you and your friends to come upstairs,” he said.

  “Okay, we’ll be right in,” Dink said. “Good night, Miss Booker. Maybe we’ll see you tomorrow.”