Zengo raced past booths that handed out Kewpie dolls for balloons popped with darts. He could not believe that he was actually chasing the dude who had stared down from posters on his bedroom walls when he was a platypup. But Chase Mercy was no longer a movie star to Zengo. He was coward who was running from the law. He was no better than an illegal fish peddler.
Chase made a sharp turn onto the walkway that led to a dead end that housed the support beams for the ScreamerCoaster.
“Chase Mercy, stop right there!” Zengo shouted. “You have nowhere to run!”
Just then . . . KA-BOOOOOOOM!
Behind him, a tremendous explosion reverberated off the metal beams of the roller coaster. Zengo was nearly knocked off his webbed feet. He turned to see flames shooting up from above the Kalamazoo City River of Dreams. His heart sank to the bottom of his tail. Could O’Malley have been near there?
Zengo looked back at Chase, now scaling the support beams of the roller coaster. Zengo wasn’t surprised; he had seen Spy Masterson do things like this before, and everyone knew Chase Mercy did his own stunts. But what was the point of climbing up a roller coaster?
The answer came from above. A loud mechanical roar sounded overhead, and Zengo looked up to see a helicopter descending through the opening of the retractable roof. Every bit of this escape had been planned.
Except for the two detectives who had caught on to his plot. Zengo ran to the base of the ScreamerCoaster, threw off his jacket, and began to climb.
As he scrambled up, Zengo saw the flames of the raging fire on the other side of the Dome. He hoped O’Malley was okay. The thought of his partner gave Zengo the burst of energy he needed to zigzag up the maze of metal beams.
Soon Zengo was so high off the ground that any miscalculated move would send him plummeting to certain death. And he had certainly made a few miscalculated moves recently. But he also knew exactly why he was risking his life—to stand up for what was right and to protect the citizens of Kalamazoo City.
He felt strong and determined as he stretched to grab the next bar, and then the one above that, going higher and higher until he was just a few feet below Chase Mercy, straddling the tracks at the highest part of the ScreamerCoaster. The helicopter was hovering directly above his head, the wind from its blades blowing his fur furiously.
“I’m sorry to have to run, Detective,” Chase called back. “But I’ve got an early shoot tomorrow, far away from here.”
“Not so fast,” yelled Zengo, who had finally reached up to feel the steel of the tracks. With one last, hard pull he hauled himself on top of the coaster. He was shocked to realize just how high up he was. His head spun and he almost threw up, right there.
The chopper lowered a rope ladder and Chase Mercy took a step toward it. Zengo pulled out his boomerang and held it in the ready position. He shouted, “Freeze! Do not take another step!”
Chase cocked his head and continued to reach for the ladder.
Zengo flashed his boomerang. “Don’t think for a second I won’t use this, Chadwick Mickleheimer!”
The fleeing outlaw stopped dead in his tracks. Zengo knew it wasn’t the boomerang that froze him. It was hearing his real name. Zengo took a step forward, his boomerang locked on target. “Mr. Mickleheimer, you are under arrest. Turn around slowly.”
“There is no Chadwick Mickleheimer,” shouted Chase Mercy. “He disappeared the moment I left this city. I’m no longer the kid nobody respected, the person everyone laughed at and called Squirt. My name is Chase Mercy! I’m a star! And I’m showing the world that this town isn’t worth anything.”
“That’s all over now, Chadwick,” said Zengo, stepping forward. “You’re a criminal, and you’re running from the police. Paws on your head.”
Chase Mercy looked back to the ladder, hanging a few feet away from him, then hung his head low and slowly placed his hands behind his head. Zengo’s muscles relaxed the slightest bit at the sight of the criminal surrendering. He reached for his handcuffs, taking his eyes off Mercy for a moment, and as he did the movie star slugged Zengo across the bill, knocking the boomerang out of his hand and sending the detective plummeting off the tracks and into the abyss of night.
THE KALAMAZOO CITY DOME, 8:57 P.M.
Luckily just as he started to fall, Zengo was able to grab a section of tracks with one flipper. He held on for dear life, dangling hundreds of feet above the ground. He clamped his bill tight to take his mind off the searing pain shooting through his arm as it bore the full weight of his body.
Chase Mercy held on to the rope ladder with one hand as he stood above the flailing detective. “Nobody calls me by my real name, Detective. Nobody. Too bad there are no witnesses way up here; after you fall and I take off, there will be no one left to pin any of this on me!”
Chase stamped on the hand that gripped the tracks. Zengo could feel his bones getting crushed like potato chips in a tuna-fish sandwich. He steeled himself to ignore the pain, and maintained his grip. Meanwhile in one smooth motion, he locked one side of the handcuffs around one of Chase Mercy’s ankles and secured the other side to one of the steel support beams.
“You’re not going anywhere!” shouted Zengo.
Chase Mercy jerked at the handcuffs and realized that he was, indeed, not going anywhere. Enraged, he kicked Zengo with his free foot. The blow sent Zengo plummeting once again into the abyss of night.
Detective Rick Zengo saw his life flash before him as he fell. He thought about his parents. He thought about his grandfather. He thought about all the things he had hoped to do in his life. He looked at the tracks of the roller coaster as he plummeted toward them. He closed his eyes.
But he didn’t hit the tracks. Instead, Zengo landed in a heap in one of the roller coaster’s cars. His partner was beaming beside him. O’Malley had somehow caught him.
“What? Why? How?” said Zengo. “And besides—I thought you hated roller coasters!”
“That’s the part that shocks you, kid?” said O’Malley, grinning madly at the success of his daring rescue.
“Well, your timing is impressive,” said Zengo as he fumbled to secure his safety bar into place. “How did you do that, anyhow?”
“Simple physics!”
The car holding Zengo and O’Malley jerked from side to side as it turned a corner and began to creep up the steep incline to the last big drop.
“What are we going to do about Chase Mercy?” shouted Zengo, the wind flying in his face.
“What do you mean?” shouted O’Malley.
“He’s handcuffed to the track up ahead. If we don’t stop this coaster, our car is going to cream him!”
Zengo and O’Malley’s car careened around the corner of the tracks. They were about two hundred feet away from Chase Mercy, who was frantically trying to free himself from the handcuffs.
Zengo began to panic. How would they ever stop in time? He had taken an oath to bring the corrupt to face justice at trial—not to flatten perps like hamburger patties.
Chase Mercy fell to his knees. They were a hundred feet away. Then fifty. Then twenty. Then ten.
Then just as they gave up hope, the detectives’ car screeched to a halt, no more than a couple of feet from Chase Mercy.
“Sometimes you just have to know people who know people,” said O’Malley. He pulled his walkie-talkie out of his breast pocket. “Nicely done, Professor Treeger. Perfect timing, twice.”
“Hey, roller coasters are my thing,” said the professor, his voice crackling over the static of the radio.
“Hey, Chadwick, old friend,” said O’Malley as he pulled out his badge and approached the crumpled figure. “You have the right to remain silent.”
THE DOME PARKING LOT, 9:30 P.M.
Detectives Zengo and O’Malley each held one shoulder of the apprehended and disgraced movie star as they marched him in toward a waiting police car. They had their pick: the Dome parking lot was a sea of squad cars, all with red and blue lights flashing. It looked like a Fourth of July party at Bamboo.
In the back of one of the cars sat the disheveled perp with a large bite taken out of one ear. Mercy’s lackey had been apprehended by O’Malley, though not before he had set the control center of the Kalamazoo City Dome to explode.
Luckily the flames from the explosion were fully extinguished by the Kalamazoo City Fire Department, who had, once again, made it to the Dome within minutes. The fire team was now loading its hoses back onto its trucks. The blaze at the Kalamazoo City River of Dreams had been put out, but the ride itself was destroyed. The animatronic figures inside were melted down to their metallic armatures.
Detectives Diaz and Lucinni were taking statements from witnesses, mostly park staff and party guests who were clustered in a roped-off section of the parking lot. This crowd was dressed to the nines and they were clearly rattled by the evening’s events. Even tough guy Maurice Robertson and ice-cold Audrey Davis appeared shell-shocked.
Mayor Saunders was talking to Sergeant Plazinski, who stood near the cluster of squad cars with his arms crossed, and an ugly grimace on his face. The sergeant was clearly unimpressed with the city’s highest elected official. As Zengo and O’Malley approached, Plazinski held up his hand to silence the mayor.
“Boys, you’ve done this city proud,” he said.
“It was nothing,” said Zengo.
“You’re going to have to learn to take a compliment,” continued the sergeant, scowling. “I don’t dish them out too often.”
“Thank you, sir,” Zengo sheepishly responded.
“That’s better. And O’Malley, your quick thinking has saved the day once again—”
“Thank you, sir,” said O’Malley.
“You didn’t let me finish. But the suit. What is up with this suit, O’Malley?” Plazinski took the collar of O’Malley’s jacket into his webbed hand. “Polyester? Orange? Really, O’Malley! Is this how you dress up when I send you to a fancy party?”
“I think I’m pulling it off,” said O’Malley.
“No. No, you’re not. But you’re a good cop.” Plazinski stepped up to Chase Mercy and looked him directly in the eye. The handcuffed celebrity attempted to avert his gaze. “Chadwick Mickleheimer. I can’t believe you’d do this to your own hometown. Take him away, boys.”
Zengo and O’Malley handed Chase Mercy off to two uniformed cops. They hustled him into the back of their squad car and slammed the door before getting in themselves and driving off to put Chase Mercy behind bars.
“That was fine work back there,” said Mayor Saunders to Zengo and O’Malley.
“Well, thank you, Mr. Mayor,” said O’Malley. “But while we’re all here together, we have a few questions for you.”
“I have nothing to say,” said Mayor Saunders as he buttoned his coat and began to step away. “There is some . . . business for me to attend to down at City Hall.”
Derek Dougherty cut in. “I hate to interrupt,” he said, though he obviously didn’t. “Detectives, the mayor might not be so forthcoming right now, but I think that you’ll enjoy my piece in tomorrow’s newspaper. The mayor here hasn’t been completely aboveboard about everything he’s done to get this Dome built.”
“What are you talking about?” inquired Mayor Saunders.
“Well, you see, the detectives here led me right into the offices of everybody in your Dream Team, as you like to call them. I couldn’t get past security, but they could, and I snuck right in behind them. It’s kind of what I do. And boy, did I find out some interesting things.”
Zengo and O’Malley shared a look. The chameleon had been trailing them the whole time and they hadn’t had a clue. Maurice and Audrey stood at attention.
“I did nothing illegal!” said Saunders.
“No. No, you didn’t,” said Derek. “But you rejected applications from reputable firms in Kalamazoo to make deals with these three Walhalla companies. It’s easy to understand if you were trying to get the best people on the job, or if it would save the taxpayers money, but of course, that’s not why you didn’t choose a team from Kalamazoo, is it? None of them was your college girlfriend, eh, Mr. Mayor? None of them was a professor who once agreed to change your failing grade to a passing grade, am I right? And none of them was your old college roommate, either.”
“W-w-what?” sputtered Mayor Saunders. “This is preposterous. Did they tell you this?”
“They didn’t have to.” Derek reached into his bag and produced a book: an old-looking Walhalla University yearbook. He flipped open to a page and pointed to a series of inscriptions there—inscriptions signed by Audrey Davis, Professor Treeger, and Maurice Robertson.
Plazinski raised an eyebrow. Saunders was flabbergasted. This wasn’t going to end well for the mayor in the public eye.
“Anyhow,” said Derek, slyly stepping away from the scene, “I have a story to write. Do look for it on the front page of tomorrow’s edition. Of course, the story will be published below the feature on the unstable celebrities that the mayor has been bringing to town. A good evening to you all!” Derek bowed his head and with that, he was gone.
“Mr. Mayor,” said Zengo.
“Huh?” said the befuddled mayor. He was clearly caught off-guard by the latest development. He’s probably already trying to plan out his political spin, thought Zengo.
“Mr. Mayor, we’re still going to need to get a written statement about this evening’s events.”
“Though we are very much looking forward to reading tomorrow’s newspaper,” said Plazinski, who wore a wide grin.
Corey O’Malley’s phone rang. He took it out of his back pocket and looked at the screen. “It’s my wife,” he said.
“Take it,” said Plazinski.
“Thanks.” O’Malley flipped open his phone. Leave it to O’Malley, thought Zengo. Even his phone was out of date. It was surprising that his phone didn’t also sport a cord and a rotary dial.
“Hey, Karen, yes, I’m fine. Zengo? Yes, he’s okay, too. Yup, it was a bit of a scare, but all is okay. Dinner? Um, we got to eat some food at the party, but honey, the food here was so tiny! Leftovers? I’ll ask him.” O’Malley put his webbed hand over the receiver and looked at Zengo.
“Yes!” said Zengo before O’Malley even said anything. The thought of a home-cooked meal by Mrs. O’Malley sounded like the perfect way to end this day.
“That’s what I thought,” said his partner. He said good-bye to his wife and hung up. “You did good tonight, rookie. Real good.”
Zengo was so happy, for once he didn’t even mind being called a rookie.
O’MALLEY HOUSE, 10:00 P.M.
Zengo and O’Malley walked in the front door just as Karen O’Malley was putting a reheated casserole on the dining-room table. The smell filled Zengo with happiness.
No wonder O’Malley had a little extra cushion, Zengo thought. If he had the chance to eat this well every day, he’d probably have trouble fitting into his suit jackets too.
“Now don’t you look handsome!” said Mrs. O’Malley.
“Thanks, dear,” said Corey, kissing his wife on the cheek.
“Oh, well you look nice too, honey, but I was talking to Rick.” She blushed as she took Zengo’s tuxedo jacket and hung it on the coatrack. “Come on in, boys. I hope you brought your appetites.” She hugged her husband.
Karen busted the old man’s chops, but it was clear to Zengo that she loved the heck out of him. It was clear too that she had been worried sick, based on the spread laid out on the table as well as the spotlessness of the house. When there is a cop in the family, it is impossible not to worry when he or she is out on assignment. With every local channel offering wall-to-wall coverage of the latest fiasco at the Dome, Zengo figured the O’Malley family had spent a pretty fretful evening. His mom was sure reassured to hear from him when he had called her on the way over to his partner’s house.
Tonight even the kids seemed to have picked up on the mood of peace and relief. It was rarely this quiet in the O’Malley house. The youngest O’Malley, baby L
issy, was sound asleep in her crib down the hall. Vanessa was sitting at the table, her phone nowhere in sight. O’Malley’s two boys, Jonathan and Declan, had been in front of the television, but leaped up and ran over to their dad as soon as they saw him. Declan gave him a huge hug. Corey kissed him on the forehead and patted him on the back.
“So,” said O’Malley, taking his seat, “how was everyone’s day?”
“Well, Blake and I got back together,” said Vanessa.
“Oh. Good. I was worried,” said the senior O’Malley, stuffing his bill with casserole. “And you, Declan, how was your day?”
“It was fine,” said Declan. “I’m just glad you’re home.” O’Malley gave his younger son a smile and a wink and then turned to Jonathan, who Zengo was sure was hoping to avoid this question altogether.
“What about you, Johnny, short day at school, eh?”
Zengo wondered if the kid would correct his dad about his name as he usually did. But there was something more important on Jonathan’s mind.
“Dad, I made a mistake, and I’m sorry,” Jonathan said.
“Well, you did, and you’re never skipping school again, son. There will be consequences.” O’Malley may have just taken down the city’s number one suspect, but at the end of the day, he was a dad first.
“Well, yes, that was a mistake, too—but I wasn’t talking about that,” Jonathan said.
O’Malley put down his fork.
“Dad, I’m sorry for calling Chase Mercy my hero.”
O’Malley wiped his mouth. “That’s okay, kid. You don’t need to apologize for that.” He patted his son on the back, and Jonathan smiled.
Jonathan seemed to have more to say. “Dad . . .” he began.
Zengo’s phone buzzed with a news alert. He checked the screen. The headline read MAYOR SAUNDERS RESIGNS. “O’Malley, we might want to turn on the television.”
Platypus Police Squad : The Ostrich Conspiracy (9780062071675) Page 9