Platypus Police Squad : The Ostrich Conspiracy (9780062071675)
Page 1
DEDICATION
CONTENTS
Dedication
Prologue
Chapter 1: The Zengo House, 7:04 A.M.
Chapter 2: Platypus Police Squad Headquarters, 7:40 A.M.
Chapter 3: Sergeant Plazinski’s Office, 8:00 A.M.
Chapter 4: The Kalamazoo City Dome, 9:20 A.M.
Chapter 5: The SKCy Scraper, 9:50 A.M.
Chapter 6: Kalamazoo City Krier Central Offices, 11:10 A.M.
Chapter 7: Platypus Police Squad Headquarters, 12:30 P.M.
Chapter 8: The Kalamazoo City Dome Security Office, 1:35 P.M.
Chapter 9: Frank’s Franks, 2:50 P.M.
Chapter 10: Highway 70 Westbound, 3:20 P.M.
Chapter 11: Strive Inc. Main Offices, 3:40 P.M.
Chapter 12: Walhalla University Main Campus, 4:45 P.M.
Chapter 13: Robertson and Sons Construction Site, Old Walhalla-Kalamazoo City Byway, 6:00 P.M.
Chapter 14: Platypus Police Squad Headquarters, 8:30 A.M.
Chapter 15: The Corner of South Street and Kalamazoo Boulevard, 10:00 A.M.
Chapter 16: Kalamazoo City Hall, 1:00 P.M.
Chapter 17: Platypus Police Squad Headquarters, 2:45 P.M.
Chapter 18: The Kalamazoo City Dome, 7:30 P.M.
Chapter 19: The Kalamazoo City Dome, 8:05 P.M.
Chapter 20: The Kalamazoo City Dome, 8:32 P.M.
Chapter 21: The Kalamazoo City Dome, 8:57 P.M.
Chapter 22: The Dome Parking Lot, 9:30 P.M.
Chapter 23: O’Malley House, 10:00 P.M.
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Acknowledgments
About the Author
Credits
Copyright
About the Publisher
PROLOGUE
The Kalamazoo City Dome. The city’s brand-new family attraction was every bit as awesome and spectacular as Mayor Edward Saunders promised it would be: “A world-class entertainment center for a world-class city.” Only thirteen months after it was announced, the KC Dome was complete. And with the doors about to open for the first time, all of Kalamazoo was bursting with pride.
It wasn’t always that way. For months, everyone from editorial writers at the Kalamazoo City Krier to street-corner cranks had been squawking about the extravagant building and its lousy location. Hardly anyone believed the mayor would pull it off. Who ever heard of an indoor-outdoor amusement park with a retractable roof? Why would anyone try to build one on top of the landfill in the southwest corner of the city? What parents would want to take their kids to the worst part of town? How would Kalamazoo City possibly afford such a boondoggle?
Of course, the project had its supporters. The mayor’s inner circle was thrilled that the Dome would be even larger and more impressive than anyone had imagined. And throughout the brouhaha, Mayor Saunders never once wavered, even though his reputation and his legacy were on the line.
Now the KC Dome was finally opening, (almost) on time and (mostly) on budget. And Kalamazooians, young and old, rich and not-so-rich, had buried their differences and come out en masse for the big celebration. Even the project’s noisiest critics were on hand. All of them had been waiting in line for hours, knowing this day would go down in history.
The city officials were arrayed on a platform just outside the main entrance. The Kalamazoo City Coronet Club was there too, their horns announcing the big moment with a noisy fanfare as Mayor Saunders cut the ribbon and declared the Dome open for business. The wrought-iron gates whisked apart, and in a flash, the complex was crammed with eager fun-seekers and adrenaline junkies.
A huge crowd jostled to be among the first in line at the ScreamerCoaster, a roller coaster that swooped at such steep angles, you were almost guaranteed to lose your lunch. Kids of all ages swarmed for a chance to ride on Booooiiiiing!, a bungee jump that sent them flipping through the air. The crowd was buzzing with anticipation for the first of the nightly fireworks displays.
But everyone agreed that the finest attraction of all—the one that would be best remembered by everyone who saw it—was the Kalamazoo City River of Dreams, a ride through Kalamazoo City’s fabulous history, featuring some of the most fantastic animatronics ever seen, and created by a top-notch team of artists and engineers direct from Hollywood. The line for that ride snaked throughout the floor of the Dome.
Within the sea of thrill rides, food stands, and ticket booths, a young couple held hands and marveled at the thrilling scene.
“Want another bite of cotton candy?” offered the boy, a good-looking, fresh-faced teen. He didn’t need the red fur and bushy tail to be considered a fox; he was just that good-looking.
“No, thank you, Blake.” The girl, a striking young platypus, pulled her boyfriend’s varsity jacket closer around her chest as she rested her head on his shoulder. Tonight their hearts beat in rhythm as they celebrated the six-month anniversary of their first date.
“Hey, Vanessa, let’s go check out the sKCy Scraper!” Blake motioned toward the Ferris wheel, its lights dancing in the reflection of his eyes.
“Honey, you know how I feel about heights.”
“Oh, come on. Wouldn’t it be romantic?” Blake smiled sweetly.
Vanessa looked from her boyfriend to the gigantic revolving wheel. “Okay. But seriously—if I say we’re getting off, we’re getting off.”
“You got it, sweetie,” said Blake. “This is going to be great. If there’s any night to see the city from up high, tonight’s it. Besides, I have a special surprise for you.”
Vanessa followed him toward the towering machine, growing more nervous by the minute. By the time the safety bar was locked down, her heart was beating at a frantic pace. She smiled weakly as she leaned into Blake’s shoulder and squeezed her eyes shut. The ride operator threw his wing in the air and gave a whistle, and the gondola holding the young couple lurched forward, rocking back and forth as it lifted off the ground. Vanessa’s webbed fingers clutched Blake’s shirt. He placed his paw around her shoulders and held her tight. Soon they were gliding up into the air, the wind gently tousling their fur. At that moment, the amusement park’s massive dome began to retract, and they found themselves beneath a canopy of starlight. The city lights shimmered off the water, and the sound of the revelry below disappeared as they climbed higher into the sky. They rose quickly to the very top of the sKCy Scraper until there was nothing but air around them.
Everything was going just as Blake planned. With any luck, they would soon be basking in the glow of the fireworks display. “Vanessa, these past six months have been incredibly special. . . .” Blake shifted and reached into his back pocket. Vanessa’s eyes widened.
“I made you this ring in shop class.” Blake opened his paw. Inside was a shiny bronze hoop. It caught reflections of the neon lights below.
“Oh, honey,” she said, looking up into his eyes. “It’s beautiful!”
She leaned in to kiss Blake, but then, suddenly, the power in the Dome went out. The ride jolted to a stop, sending their gondola rocking back and forth like a frenzied pendulum.
Vanessa screamed.
Blake fumbled the ring, sending it plummeting down to what was then a pitch-black sea of chaos. Before he could offer a word of comfort, the shrieks of thousands of terrified revelers below drowned him out.
That’s when the fireworks display began. But without power, the metal dome covering the park could not finish retracting. Fireworks exploded into its hard surface and burst into flames. The crowd’s shouts of confusion turned into screams of terror as sparks and debris ra
ined down on them.
Welcome to Kalamazoo City, home of the Disaster Dome.
THE ZENGO HOUSE, 7:04 A.M.
“Firefighters were immediately on the scene and quickly doused the flames. Nobody was seriously injured, but the city has been shaken.” Max Pearson, the on-the-scene reporter for Channel Five’s Action News, stood in front of the smoldering Dome.
“More orange juice, sweetie?”
“Mom, c’mon, I’m watching!” Detective Rick Zengo gently pushed his mother aside so he could see the television screen, then caught himself. “I mean, no, thank you, Mom. It’s just that this . . .” He motioned toward the television.
“I know. It’s your job. I think it’s so cute that you’re a real member of the Platypus Police Squad!”
Zengo narrowed his eyes at her and turned the volume up. He had been a full-fledged detective for months now, and yet everyone still insisted on calling him “rookie,” “tiger,” “slugger.” Even the guys at the station. It was fine at first, but these days it was really starting to break his bill.
“We reached out to the firm that built the Kalamazoo City Dome, but they refused to comment,” continued Max Pearson.
“Probably because Maurice Robertson is a hack!” Zengo’s dad barely looked up from the sports section.
“Dad, come on, just because he was hired by the city . . .”
“Ricky, I’ve known Maurice for years now. He didn’t deserve the chance to draw up plans for the Dome, much less build it. Anything to save a buck—that’s his motto. I could have told you the opening night would turn into a fiasco.”
Zengo wondered what made his dad think he was such an expert on building amusement parks. His dad built kitchens for a living, not state-of-the-art roller coasters. As Zengo looked back at the TV, though, he had to admit his dad had expertly mounted it beneath their cabinets.
“We’re here now with someone who was stuck atop the so-called sKCy Scraper, one of many rides that was dangerously stopped midcycle when the park’s systems went haywire,” said Max Pearson. “Tell me, young lady, what was it like being trapped so high up and in complete darkness?”
“It was terrifying,” she said.
Zengo nearly spit his orange juice all over the table. He recognized the girl before her name appeared on the screen. It was Vanessa O’Malley, his partner’s daughter. Her boyfriend, Blake, the high-school football star, was by her side.
The image of two kids stuck atop the Ferris wheel had gone viral overnight. It had already become a symbol of the disastrous opening of the Kalamazoo City Dome. But Zengo hadn’t realized it was O’Malley’s little girl.
Vanessa continued, “We were stuck up there for two hours before these jokers got the power going again.”
“It was pretty awful,” Blake added. “My girlfriend here is terrified of heights, but I thought it would be safe to take her up on a Ferris wheel.”
“Clearly, you were wrong.” Vanessa’s arms were crossed.
Zengo recognized the fury in her eyes. It was the same fury often directed at her dad. On TV, Blake swallowed and let out a nervous laugh. “Well, at least we weren’t on a roller coaster. I heard that one of them stopped upside down, right in the middle of a loop-de-loop!”
“Mom, Dad, I have to get to work.” Zengo stood up and poured his hot chocolate into his to-go mug, screwing the cap on tight.
“But sweetheart, you barely touched your breakfast.” Zengo’s mother motioned to his spot at the table. She had his favorite cereal poured, and the toast was perfectly buttered.
Zengo kissed his mother on the cheek and grabbed the toast. “Thanks, Mom,” he said. “Hate to eat and run, but duty calls.”
As Zengo threw on his lucky leather jacket, he took one last glimpse of the news. Vanessa’s face had been replaced by that of his favorite movie star. “Chase Mercy? What did he have to do with this?”
Max Pearson continued. “Just before opening the Kalamazoo City Dome last night, Mayor Saunders announced that filming is slated to begin there next week for the latest installment in the popular Spy Masterson film franchise, starring Kalamazoo City’s native son and one of the world’s biggest action stars, Chase Mercy. This marks Mercy’s first return to the city in six years. Since last night’s disaster, there has been no comment from the mayor’s office as to whether or not the movie shoot will begin as planned.”
“Crazy!” said Zengo. He dashed to his car and threw it in gear. It wasn’t even eight a.m., and this was already shaping up to be a pretty interesting day.
PLATYPUS POLICE SQUAD HEADQUARTERS, 7:40 A.M.
Zengo pushed his way past the night-shift officers who were checking out, and the day-shift officers who were checking in. As always, he took a quick moment to salute his grandfather’s portrait, hanging in the lobby of the station. Then he stopped at the front desk to say hello to Peggy.
“Hey ya, Peggy, how are you this fine morning?” Zengo asked as she hung up her phone.
“Oh, hello . . . Detective Zengo . . . I’m fine . . . thank you.” She managed a smile, even though she had clearly been on the job all night. But her smile fell as her phone rang again. “Excuse me, detective . . . another call. It’s been a . . . busy morning.”
“I bet. Have a good one, Peggy.”
Zengo gave Peggy a nod, and hurried through the buzz and clamor of the busy squad room to where he and his partner’s desks were.
“Detective Corey O’Malley?” Zengo’s eyes widened in mock excitement. “The Detective Corey O’Malley? My friends are never going to believe this! Can I get your autograph?”
“Mornin’, sport.” O’Malley barely looked up from his computer.
Zengo, as usual, let the nickname slide. “Saw your daughter on the news this morning. Is she okay?” asked Zengo, setting his hot chocolate down at his desk. He fired up his own computer, adjusted his stapler so that it was perfectly parallel with the folders that were stacked by color, and gently brushed some of O’Malley’s empty hot-dog cartons back over to his desk.
“Thanks for asking, kid. My little girl is a scrapper. Vanessa spent a few hours stuck on a ride, but she’ll be fine. Not sure I can say the same for her relationship with her boyfriend,” chuckled O’Malley.
“I’m sure that pleases you.”
“Actually, that Blake kid was kinda growing on me.” O’Malley swiveled his computer screen to show Zengo. It was filled with open windows, all showing archived articles from the Kalamazoo City Krier on the construction of the Dome. “Word is that what happened was a simple electrical malfunction, but if you ask me, there’s too much riding on this Dome for us to take a disaster like this lightly.”
“My thoughts exactly,” said Zengo. “And I’ve got our first lead already. I hear that Maurice guy who ran the job is pretty shady.”
O’Malley continued to open news files. “Perhaps. I’ll say one thing for certain, though. Maurice Robertson is a savvy businessman. His firm beat out a lot of competition in the bid to build the mayor’s little swamp playground.”
Zengo walked around the desks to get a better look at O’Malley’s screen. “So when do we get started? Has a case file been opened?”
“Not yet,” said O’Malley.
Zengo looked toward Sergeant Plazinski’s office. The door was shut, but the light was on. The sarge was in early, too. Their boss rarely closed his door unless he was reaming out his detectives, an experience Zengo and O’Malley were all too familiar with. But this morning there was barely a sound coming from the corner office—let alone the crash of a flying telephone.
“Vanessa told me that she saw something weird when she was stuck on top of the Ferris wheel last night,” said O’Malley.
“So what are we waiting for? Let’s check it out!”
“Shhhhhh.” O’Malley leaned toward Zengo and whispered. “We’re not the only ones jockeying for this case.” O’Malley gave a quick glance and a nod across the room, where Detectives Diaz and Lucinni were yukking it up over by the watercoole
r.
Zengo followed O’Malley’s glance. Their rivals looked like they were reenacting a lame comedy bit they must have seen on TV the night before, fart noises and all. But every few seconds they’d look over at Plazinski’s door to see if he’d yet emerged.
“I hear you,” said Zengo. “So, what did Vanessa see?”
“She snapped this photo with her phone when the blackout happened.” O’Malley pulled up a blurry picture of the view of the water from the top of the sKCy Scraper. Zengo studied it. There wasn’t much to see—just a flicker of light. He looked back at O’Malley, who seemed to get what he was thinking, and nodded.
“I know: not much to go on. But she thought it could be something. Or more specifically—someone.”
Zengo started to skim through the articles O’Malley had pulled up. “This is interesting,” he said, pointing to one.
“What’s that?” said O’Malley.
“None of the people the mayor hired for this project are from Kalamazoo City. You would think he would have gone out of his way to load the team up with locals—hometown pride and all. But all three of the Dome project leaders—the head of tourism, the architect, and the engineer who runs the company who constructed the Dome—are from out of town. No one even knows who they are. My dad found out that Maurice Robertson’s company in Walhalla did the construction. He’s always been Dad’s biggest rival.”
“I heard they weren’t even planning to sell Frank’s Franks at the Dome,” said O’Malley. “That just tangles up my tail. If this tourism guru went along with building a dome that doesn’t sell KC’s best hot dogs, they don’t know anything about this town.”
A bad taste rose in Zengo’s mouth, just as it did every time his partner mentioned his favorite hot-dog stand, which wasn’t much more than some pieces of plywood stuck together by three generations of sausage grease. He decided to change the subject.
“Speaking of local talent, did you hear that Chase Mercy is going to be filming a movie at the Dome? Man, I’ve been watching his movies since I was a platypup. We all used to buy tickets for whatever kids’ movie was playing, and then sneak in to see the latest Spy Masterson flick!”