The Ambrose Deception

by Emily Ecton

  Yours,

  Melissa slapped the newspaper on the table in front of Bondi and Wilf. She’d had to wait until her grandmother got back before she could meet them at the coffee shop, and it felt like years since Melissa had told them the news over the phone. “Voilà. How much you want to bet this little competition involves clues?”

  Wilf unfolded the paper and read the article, then passed it over to Bondi.

  “Sounds like that ten thousand dollars was just pocket change,” Bondi said, shaking his head.

  “We just handed Smith the prize,” Melissa said, propping her chin in her hands angrily. “We did all that work, and gave him all the answers, for practically nothing.”

  “Not exactly,” Bondi said, his eyes gleaming. “We gave him five right answers and one wrong answer. And there are still three answers that we haven’t given him yet.”

  Melissa raised her eyebrow. “Are we still going to? Even though we know that it’s a con?”

  “Sure, why not,” Bondi said. “Right, Wilf?”

  Wilf shrugged. “I guess.” He frowned. “Actually, why would we?”

  “Because, don’t you see? It’s our chance!” Bondi said, jumping up. “We hold all the cards now. It’s our chance to show them they can’t get away with it. I don’t know what we’ll do exactly, but we have to show them that they can’t just treat us like we’re stupid kids.”

  Melissa nodded slowly. “They think they can con us. We’ll show them who the real suckers are…somehow. Right?”

  “It won’t get us the prize, though, will it?” Wilf said, looking from Melissa to Bondi.

  “Well, no,” Melissa said, dropping her chin back onto her hands.

  “Okay, that stinks,” Wilf said thoughtfully. “But Bondi’s right. We should do it, anyway. We should do something. Show them who’s boss. Right?” He held up his hand for a high five. Bondi and Melissa both jumped up to smack it, more or less successfully.

  Melissa’s eyes gleamed. “We’ll think of some way to get back at Smith…I mean, Linus…I mean…Shoot, I don’t even know what to call him anymore!” She flopped back down into the chair.

  “I like Jerkface myself.” Wilf snickered.

  “Or Weaselbreath,” Melissa said with an evil grin.

  Bondi burst out laughing. “Scum-sucking pig!”

  “That’s still better than Linus.” Melissa giggled.

  “But, no, seriously,” Wilf said, suddenly growing quiet. “We should just call him Smith. You know me—if we start calling him Linus in private, the first thing I’ll do is accidentally slip up and give us away. So I say we stay with Smith.”

  Bondi nodded, wiping his eyes. “You’re right. Linus feels weird, anyway. So that’s settled—we’ll come up with an awesome plan and then we’ll come out of nowhere and take him by surprise.”

  “The jerk won’t know what hit him,” Melissa smirked.

  “Besides, we might as well, since we pretty much figured out that last clue,” Bondi said. “We know it’s that Tribune Tower moon rock with the two editors.”

  Wilf nodded. “Colonel Robert McCormick and his cousin, Captain Joseph Patterson. They ran the paper together.”

  Melissa sat straight up. “Him! That first one! I bet it’s Colonel McCormick.”

  “Okaaay,” Bondi said, exchanging a freaked-out look with Wilf. Melissa had suddenly switched into overdrive. “Any particular reason why?”

  “You know I’ve been watching that Ambrose documentary with my grandmother, right? Well, they mention Colonel McCormick all the time. Apparently, Ambrose was constantly playing pranks on him when McCormick was old. I don’t think they liked each other one bit.”

  Bondi nodded. “Then it’s probably him. So we get a photo of the tower, set up a meeting, and then see what Wilf’s invite says. See if Butler gives him the invitation on the sly, like he did with us. Because I’m not entirely sure Smith even knows about those.”

  Melissa frowned. “Yeah, it was just Butler. That’s weird, isn’t it?”

  Bondi nodded. “Seems weird to me. But we don’t have anything to lose at this point.”

  “Except handing him three more right answers,” Wilf grumbled.

  Bondi grinned. “That’s the thing. We’ll give him three answers, sure. We just aren’t going to give him three more right answers. We’re only going to give him two.”

  To: Inez Castillo, Dimitri Omar

  From: Frank Jennings

  Subject: WHOOOHOOO!!

  HOT DIGGITY DOG! MY KID FIGURED OUT HIS CLUES! Meeting with Smith tomorrow. Told you he was just a slow starter!

  To: Frank Jennings, Inez Castillo

  From: Dimitri Omar

  Subject: RE: WHOOOHOOO!!

  You heard from your kid? Has he seen my kid? I have not heard from her still.

  To: Frank Jennings, Dimitri Omar

  From: Inez Castillo

  Subject: RE: WHOOOHOOO!!

  Big whoop, Frank, your kid came in third. My kid is still the winner of the big prize. And no, no one’s heard from your kid, Dimitri. Give it a rest.

  Wilf’s leg jiggled nervously while Smith flipped through his photos. The plan had seemed like a good one when they’d all come up with it. Fake him out completely, they said. Don’t just give him a wrong answer, give him a REALLY wrong answer, they said. One so wrong that he’ll have to say something—if he knows it’s wrong, that is. Sure, that had seemed great at the time. And Wilf had been psyched that he’d be playing the most important part. But now that he was actually doing it, Wilf had a feeling Smith wouldn’t like being tricked, and he sure didn’t want to be around if Smith figured out what they were doing.

  Mr. Smith held up the first photo, of the Bowman and Spearman statues on Congress Avenue. “The clue gave you two Bible verses. And you came up with this as the answer?” Smith made it sound like that was the stupidest thing anyone had ever said.

  Wilf swallowed hard. He knew this one was right. “Yes. Because Jeremiah 6:23 refers to their bow and spear, and Psalm 46:9 says the bow and spear have been broken. And those two statues, you’ll notice they don’t have any weapons—but if they did, they would be a bow and a spear. ’Cause they’re called Bowman and Spearman. It’s not like they’d have an Uzi or a rocket launcher or something, right?” Wilf gave a hollow laugh and then stared down at the floor. He needed to get out of here before he made a total fool of himself.

  “Very good,” Smith barked, slapping the photo onto the desk. “Now this one: Beloved co-editor in charge of the moon?”

  “Right, so, um…the Tribune Tower? Used to have a moon rock. So the editor would be Colonel McCormick. Since he was in charge, along with his cousin, Captain Patterson.”

  Mr. Smith glared at Wilf with narrowed eyes. “That one seems almost too easy.”

  “Yeah, well.” Wilf forced himself to laugh, shrugging. “Maybe for you, ’cause you’re…so…smart…and all.” Wilf bit the inside of his cheek. Another dumb response. If there was one thing Wilf didn’t like, it was high-pressure situations. But he had to do his part. He couldn’t let Melissa and Bondi down.

  Mr. Smith’s eyes narrowed even more. “Exactly,” he finally said. He picked up the third photo. “And this third solution?”

  Wilf tried to keep his voice calm. “So that one is about Madame Tussaud and Mrs. O’Leary’s little blue friend, right? It’s pretty obvious it’s a blue cow. So the answer has to be the, uh…” Wilf took a deep breath. “The Blue Cow Cafe on Michigan Avenue.”

  A small, strangled noise came from the far side of the room. Out of the corner of his eye, Wilf could see Butler fold his arms over his chest and cover his mouth with one hand. But Butler didn’t say a word.

  “So that’s the answer. Blue Cow Cafe,” Wilf repeated. “Yessir, that’s it, all right.” He stared at the picture in Smith’s hand. The cafe was on Michigan Avenue—that was true—but it was the Michigan Avenue in Big Rapids, Michigan. Bondi had gotten the picture off the Internet.

  Mr. Smith stared at the
photo for a long moment and then stared back at Wilf. Finally, he slapped the photo down onto the desk. “Well. That’s that, then.”

  Wilf felt frozen to the spot. “That’s what, then?”

  “That’s the end of the competition. Well done, boy, very well done. I didn’t think you had it in you.” He clapped his hands together and rubbed them like he was trying to start a fire. “Congratulations. Now, turn over your game paraphernalia to Butler, and we’ll be in touch about the prize. Looks like that Bondi boy may have broken a rule or two, and that Burris girl, well, she’s a shifty one, but that’s all yet to be determined. Butler will show you out.” Smith shuffled the photos into a manila envelope on his desk and waved his hand dismissively.

  Butler led Wilf out into the hallway and pressed the elevator button. “You may need your game paraphernalia a little longer, so no need to turn that over quite yet. But this is for you.” He held out a small cream envelope.

  Wilf took it and stuck it in his pocket. “Thanks.” He’d never been so relieved in his life. He was so glad the whole thing was over.

  Butler pushed the elevator button and waited silently as Wilf shifted from one foot to the other.

  Wilf stared at his feet. He knew he should say something, come up with the perfect question that would bust the whole competition wide open and reveal all the Ambrose secrets. But if he said the wrong thing, he could ruin everything and blow it for all three of them. Wilf took a deep breath as the elevator got closer. He had to say something.

  The elevator dinged.

  “So,” Wilf said as the doors opened. “Um. Go, Cubs.”

  Butler nodded. “Yes. Go, Cubs.”

  Wilf got into the elevator. He could feel his ears turning bright red.

  “Blue Cow Cafe,” Butler muttered under his breath as the elevator doors closed.

  Wilf waited until the elevator had started going down before tearing open the envelope. He scanned the invitation quickly.

  Your attendance is requested

  24th Floor of the Alamo.

  Wilf broke into a grin. He squeezed through the elevator doors as they started to open and jogged out to the sidewalk.

  Bondi was crouched behind a scraggly bush.

  Wilf thrust the card in his face. “Check it out, it’s different. Butler totally gave it to me on the sly. And give me a break—twenty-fourth floor of the Alamo? I saw Pee-wee’s Big Adventure; I know that’s a scam. The Alamo doesn’t have a basement, and I’m pretty sure it doesn’t have a twenty-fourth floor, either.”

  Bondi nodded. He’d seen Pee-wee’s Big Adventure, too. “And what about Smith? He didn’t know it was the wrong answer?”

  Wilf grinned. “Not a clue. I think Butler knew, but Smith didn’t know a thing. Weird, huh?”

  “Yeah, weird.” Bondi peered around the corner. He could see a familiar black car idling just down the block. “Frank’s here. You’d better hustle, or he’s going to notice something’s up.”

  Wilf slung his backpack over his shoulder. “You’ll meet us when you get done tailing Smith?”

  Bondi nodded. “Oh yeah. Now get, before they spot us!” He crouched back behind the bush and tried to act inconspicuous.

  Wilf gave him the okay sign and sauntered over to Frank’s car.

  Bondi watched as Wilf high-fived Frank and they drove away, and then he turned his attention back to the door. He had one last chance to follow Smith, and he wasn’t going to blow it. Not this time.

  Things to Remember the Next Time You Hide Under a Bush

  by Bondi Johnson

  1. Warm up with some deep knee bends so you can squat for a long period of time. Squatting is essential for hiding behind a bush.

  2. Try to pick a big, full bush, and not a scrawny one.

  3. Try not to freak out when something touches your neck. It’s probably not a bug.

  4. Not a big one, anyway.

  5. Oh God, it’s a bug. Have alternate hiding location in mind for when a ginormous bloodsucking insect crawls down your collar and you abandon your original bush.

  Bondi shook out his jacket and tried to blend in with the less buggy–seeming bush on the other side of the doorway. It wasn’t working, but he hadn’t seen Smith or Butler leave, so it didn’t make much of a difference, anyway. Besides, it wasn’t easy pretending to be a bush.

  The door to the building swung open, and Bondi immediately dropped to the ground. He peered through the leaves as the person walked down the sidewalk. Smith.

  A car pulled up in front of the building as Smith got to the curb, and he quickly got inside. Alone. He slammed the door as the car pulled away, and it disappeared down the street.

  Bondi hesitated, still half crouching. He hadn’t figured on Smith leaving without Butler. The plan had been to tail the two of them. But he couldn’t lose Smith. He was the important one in the equation, anyway, right?

  Bondi straightened up a little more to get a better look. He was just leaning forward when he realized someone was behind him.

  And a hand clamped down on the back of his neck.

  Wilf: SUCCESS! I totally pulled one over on the old man. Meet me in five.

  Melissa: NOT A SECURE LINE, DOOFUS! ZIP IT! Is Bondi still doing the stakeout? I have a bad feeling about that.

  Wilf: Yeah, but he’ll be fine. What could happen?

  Bondi froze and tried to scream, but it came out like more of a gurgling sound. This was it. It was all over. He was a dead man.

  Another hand clamped down on Bondi’s shoulder and pulled him into an upright position. Bondi squeezed his eyes shut and waited for the worst to happen. He knew the bush had been a bad idea. He just didn’t know it would be his last bad idea.

  “Ah, Mr. Johnson. I hoped I might find you here. Taking up an interest in shrubbery, I presume?”

  Bondi turned his head slightly, opened his eyes, and cringed. It was Butler.

  “Not satisfied with your win?” Mr. Butler stretched his thin lips into a smile.

  Bondi tried not to squirm in Butler’s grip, but it was like he was caught in a vise. He was starting to lose feeling in his shoulder. “Well, no, I mean…”

  “Or is it something else you’re not satisfied with?” Butler let go of Bondi and patted him on the arm. Not exactly the move of a killer, but there was a chance Butler was just toying with him.

  “Sit?” Butler pointed to a bench a few yards away.

  “Sure,” Bondi said. Anything to get out from behind the bush. You don’t have a lot of options when you’re operating from inside shrubbery.

  Mr. Butler sat down and patted the bench next to him. He stared out into the street for a couple of minutes. “I would be willing to bet you’re a newspaper reader,” he finally said. “Am I right, Mr. Johnson?”

  Bondi sat down warily, trying to assess the situation. Butler was acting like they were shooting the breeze, not like he’d just caught him spying. Bondi cleared his throat. “That’s right.”

  “Seen anything of interest lately?” Butler glanced at Bondi. His face was completely relaxed.

  “As a matter of fact, I did,” Bondi said, watching Butler carefully. “About Enoch Ambrose. Sounds like he had an interesting will.”

  Butler nodded somberly. “Yes, yes he did. Quite interesting. I wonder if you realize quite how interesting it is.”

  Bondi shifted uncomfortably. “It sounds to me,” he said slowly, “like there are clues, and whoever solves them inherits everything. Am I right?”

  Mr. Butler raised his eyebrows. “Yes, I’d say that’s an extremely accurate assessment.”

  Bondi took a deep breath and let it out in a rush. If Butler was going to take him out, Bondi might as well lay all his cards on the table. “So basically, this contest was just a scam. Melissa and Wilf and me, we were conned into helping Linus Ambrose get the inheritance. All that work—it was all for nothing.”

  Butler smiled. “I don’t know if I’d say that.”

  Bondi scowled at him. “Oh yeah? Why not? If we got th
e clues right, Linus Ambrose inherits. If we didn’t, his sister does. Either way, none of us will ever see any scholarship money, because ‘Mr. Smith’ will decide we all broke the rules. Am I right?”

  Butler brushed a piece of nonexistent lint off his sleeve. “I don’t know how much you know about inheritance law, Bondi, but as I was saying, this will is…unusual in its wording. It states that whosoever solves the clues will be the heir.”

  Bondi rolled his eyes. “That’s what I just said.”

  Butler smiled slightly. “Is it?”

  Bondi’s eyes widened. “Wait, did you say whosoever?”

  Butler inclined his head. “Whosoever. The terms are quite clear.”

  “It doesn’t say that it has to be Linus or Sybil?”

  Butler smiled. “The clues were given to them, that’s true. And they are certainly in a very advantageous position. But the will plainly states whosoever. There are no restrictions in place.” He eased himself to his feet and dusted off his pants. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, Mr. Johnson. You have your invitation, I trust?”

  Bondi nodded. He didn’t trust himself to say anything.

  “I suggest that you and your friends not miss that appointment. I suggest it very strongly, in fact.” He bowed his head slightly and started off down the street.

  Bondi stared at him as he walked away and then launched himself off the bench.

  “But wait, are you for real?” Bondi asked, jogging after him. “Don’t you work for Mr. Ambrose? He’s going to be really mad that you told me that stuff.”

  Butler smiled. “My employer was and has always been Mr. Enoch Ambrose. And you’re right, Bondi. Mr. Linus Ambrose would be angry, if we’d had this conversation. So it’s good that we didn’t.”

  Bondi gave a short laugh. “Right. What conversation?”

  “Exactly. Best of luck to you. Don’t let us down.” Butler nodded solemnly, and then turned and strolled slowly away down the street.