Sammy Keyes and the Runaway Elf

by Wendelin Van Draanen

I spotted a window moving further open behind its screen. “Her niece? Paula’s never mentioned a niece. ’Course, Paula don’t talk much. Especially since that bum Marcus took off.”

  I forced a laugh and said, “She sure doesn’t have much good to say about Marcus anymore.”

  “No kiddin’! What a piece of work, carryin’ on with two other women at the same time. And the way he stiffed her. No alimony, no nothing. Just a piece of that stupid bar across town.”

  I nodded like I’d heard it all before. Then I tried, “My mom says that Lance guy isn’t much better, but I’m hoping he is.”

  “Oh, I’m afraid your mama’s right. Paula’s just repeatin’ history with that fella. And I tell you what, if his freak dog pisses on my roses one more time I’m gonna hose him down. I got one of them water blasters settin’ on my hall table loaded with ammonia. I’m just waiting.” Then she said, “Oh! There’s the timer—gotta go to my brownies!” and slammed the window.

  I wasn’t about to hang around and wait for the house to start talking again. I peeked over the backyard fence, called for Marique a few times, and then took off. And as I was crossing the road, I looked back over my shoulder and noticed Paula’s trash can again, parked on the curb outside her house. And that’s when I got the notion that inside that trash can might be some pretty good information. Maybe even evidence.

  I ran back, took off the lid, and tried to find something important. Like dog hair or dog food cans—anything. What I found was garbage. Sacks and sacks of stinky garbage. But I started digging through it anyway. And somewhere between black bananas and beer cans I found a soggy ad flyer with a hole cut out of it. Now through my brain flashed Mrs. Landvogt’s ransom note, and all of a sudden I knew I was onto something. So I started digging deeper, and pretty soon I had a fist full of smelly flyers with holes cut out of them.

  Then all of a sudden something kicked the side of the trash can, clang! I popped up, and there she was, as big as a bear, with a pan of brownies in one hand and a water blaster aimed straight at me in the other. She said through a mouthful of chocolate, “I’d wager you’re about as related as a bullfrog. What are you after, girl?”

  My brain was racing around for a decent lie when out of my mouth pops, “I was just looking for a piece of paper to write her a note.…” I started edging away. “Really.”

  “You’re lyin’. I can see it in your eyes.” She bit a chunk of brownie right out of the pan.

  I held up the ads. “Look! That’s what I’ve got. Paper.”

  She wagged the blaster at me. “Give ’em here.”

  “No, I … I …”

  “Give ’em here!”

  “But I …” I turned around and ran. As fast as I could, as hard as I could.

  It wasn’t fast enough. She blasted me in the rear end with ammonia and called, “That’s right, girl, run! And don’t you ever come back!”

  Believe me, I ran. Clear out to Main Street. And while I was waiting for the light to change I checked out my pants. They were soaked and they smelled. I really wanted to get out of them, but when I looked through the flyers I decided that I couldn’t just yet. The apartment was one way, the Landvogt mansion was another, and I had to see that ransom note.

  So I started hiking out to East Jasmine. And somewhere along the way I stopped thinking about brownies and ammonia and started thinking about Mrs. Landvogt. How mean she was, and for what? She had everything.

  Then I thought about Mrs. Graybill and Billy McCabe and that whole lifelong disaster, and I felt tired—like my brain was back walking in quicksand, trying to get from one thought to the next.

  When I got to the Landvogt mansion, Tina let me in, and the first thing she said when the door had bo-beeped closed was, “What is that smell?”

  I felt like a sewer rat crashing a party at the White House, but I didn’t even care. I looked straight at her. “Ammonia.”

  “Ammonia?” She wrinkled up her nose. “It smells awful!”

  “Yeah, I know.” I looked around. “Where’s your mom?”

  “Watching the stock market.” She led me to the den and whispered, “Can I wash those for you or something?”

  “I’ll make it quick.”

  The Crocodile’s nose was already twitching. She looked over her shoulder and said, “Is that you making that stench?”

  I took a few steps closer. “Yeah, it’s me. I need to see that ransom note.”

  She fanned the air in front of her. “Oh, that’s awful!”

  “Look, I got hosed down with ammonia trying to dig up some clues at Paula Nook’s house.” I held up the ads. “I just want to compare these to the ransom note.”

  The Croc powered back a few feet. “Hosed down with ammonia?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Paula did that to you?”

  “Her neighbor did. Look, I’ll get out of here as soon as you show me the note.”

  She pulled the black book from beside her in the wheelchair and whipped out the ransom note.

  My hopes fell the minute I saw it. The note hadn’t come from the ads—the letters weren’t even close. I muttered, “Rats!”

  Tina said softly, “It looks like she was just cutting coupons.”

  “Then what are these holes?” I handed her a sheet. “No coupon is this size.”

  “No, but if you’re using a box-cutter, you’ve got to pad, and you wind up with little holes like that.”

  I looked at her, wondering when on earth Tina Landvogt had ever had to cut coupons. She smiled at me like she’d read my mind. “College. I got pretty good at it.”

  Just then a noise came out of the Croc like she was being strangled. We both looked at her, glued to the TV, and Tina whispered, “Another bad day on Wall Street.”

  The Croc snapped, “Tina, get me a Scotch,” then looked at me and pinched her nose. “And get that rancid waif out of here!”

  When we got to the front door, Tina said, “Sammy, I really don’t think she’ll call the housing authority … not unless you make her really mad about something.” She laughed. “And look at you! I mean, it’s not like you’re not trying.”

  “Well, what’s going to happen on Friday if I don’t find Marique?”

  “Don’t tell her I said this,” she whispered, “but she’ll pay it.” She shook her head. “It’ll about kill her, but she’ll pay it.”

  “That’s a lot of money for a dog!”

  She looked over her shoulder at her mother in the den. “She’s in there right now, trying to decide which stocks to sell.”

  “Tina!”

  Tina rolled her eyes. “I’d better go get her that Scotch.” The door be-booped as she opened it for me. “Don’t sweat it so much. As long as she gets Marique back alive, everything’ll be all right.”

  That did make me feel a little better. I didn’t quite believe it, but I did feel better. And walking down their circular drive I realized that I was never going to make it home if I didn’t get out of my jeans. The backs of my legs and my rear end were burning, and in the time it was going to take me to get home I’d be raw. I went over to the McKenzes’, praying that Marissa was home.

  She was. She took one look at me and said, “What happened?”

  I stepped into the house and said, “Got caught digging through garbage, chased by a human bear, and hosed down with ammonia … you know, the usual.”

  She laughed. “Silly me. I thought you’d just been run over by a truck.”

  “I was hoping I could maybe take a shower?” I practically got on my knees. “Pleeeease?”

  She laughed, “Yes, please! I’ll get you some clean clothes.” As I followed her down the hall, she said, “Don’t let my mom see you. She’ll call the exterminator.”

  “She’s home again?”

  “Miracle, huh? She’s doing something in there with broccoli and pine nuts.”

  “Pine nuts?”

  She rolled her eyes. “You got me.”

  She led me to the bathroom, and let me tell you, a
shower never felt so good. I put on some of Marissa’s clothes, and when I emerged she said, “I was going to wash your clothes, but Mom says they’re hopeless. I threw them out, okay? You can have those.”

  I laughed. “Thank you.”

  “She wants to know if you want to stay for dinner.”

  “For broccoli and pine nuts?”

  She practically got down on a knee. “Pleeeease?”

  Well, I wouldn’t play squirrel for just anyone, but for Marissa? I laughed and said, “Okay.”

  Grams wasn’t too happy about me missing dinner for the second night in a row, but she tried to cover up and told me to have a good time. And I felt kind of bad, not telling her about Mrs. Graybill, but really, I didn’t want to go through it right then. Not over the phone.

  When I hung up, Mrs. McKenze says from over by the stove, “I’ve been thinking a lot about Lilia since you were here the other day. Are you still having trouble with her?”

  I nodded.

  “Well, I had lunch with a friend, and her name came up.”

  “Oh?”

  She shook some Parmesan cheese over the broccoli. “She wouldn’t tell me much, but she did let it slip that Lilia’s taken a second out on her house.”

  “A second? What’s that?”

  “A second mortgage. She’s borrowing against the equity in her house.”

  I thought about this a minute. “She doesn’t own that house?”

  “Free and clear? Not anymore. I was under the impression that she paid cash for it originally, but if this is a second, then she probably doesn’t have much equity left.” She went back to sprinkling cheese. “I found it interesting.”

  I sat down on a stool at the breakfast bar and thought. About the Crocodile in her den watching her stocks. About her taking a second mortgage out on her house. About Tina cutting out coupons. And I wondered—would Mrs. Landvogt really pay fifty thousand dollars to get Marique back? And why, if Tina had had to cut out coupons in college, did she seem to think her mother would fork over that much money for a dog?

  But the more I thought about it, the more I got the feeling that maybe Tina was right. It seemed that nothing mattered more to the Crocodile than her dog, so maybe she really would pay fifty thousand dollars to get Marique back.

  If she could.

  SIXTEEN

  Grams was stunned. “She’s dead? How can she be dead? She was here less than a week ago, cranky as ever.” She kind of deflated into the couch. “I called there twice today, but both times they told me she was asleep. Oh, why didn’t I just go over there?”

  I said, “Don’t be so hard on yourself, Grams, you couldn’t have known.…” Then I rested my head on her shoulder, and we just sat there for the longest time, not saying anything.

  We went to bed early, but I don’t think either of us got much sleep. And the next morning I was so tired that I almost asked Grams if I could stay home from school. Then I remembered Heather. I had one more day of following her around, and then it was up to Officer Borsch. If I could get ahold of him.

  So I got up, got dressed, and walked out of the building like I lived there. I stopped by Maynard’s Market to get a copy of Dirt Bike magazine for Dirt Boy and headed off to school.

  When I got to homeroom, I slipped the magazine into Rudy’s desk, then hurried over to my own. There was nothing on Heather’s desk, and when the bell rang she slipped into her seat and said, “Finally getting smart, huh?”

  I just gave her my evil little smile.

  She shot over her shoulder, “Get a life, would you?”

  After homeroom I didn’t let her out of my sight. I followed her everywhere. I even followed her into the bathroom so that when she came out of the stall, there I was, staring at her in the mirror.

  When I found her hiding with Tenille and Monet behind the locker room at lunchtime, I sat down right next to her on the asphalt and stared at her.

  She spilled her fries trying to get away from me, crying, “What are you doing?”

  One of her fries had fallen into my lap, so I popped it into my mouth and just sat there, chewing.

  Tenille got up and said, “C’mon, Heather, let’s go.”

  I made my little tick-tock sound and Heather said, “You’re crazy, you know that? If you hurt me … If you lay even one finger on me …”

  They hauled her off while I tick-tocked, a little louder.

  By the end of school I was pretty sure that I couldn’t ruffle her up much more than I already had, and I was starting to get worried that Officer Borsch wouldn’t go along with my plan. What I had in mind was a long shot, and Officer Borsch isn’t the long shot type. He likes citing code and writing tickets, which I guess is at least safer than what I do. I mean, getting doused with ammonia by a brownie-eating bear is probably something Officer Borsch has never experienced in the course of an investigation.

  Anyhow, after school I was planning to get Elyssa and then go straight over to the police station. But I got sidetracked. By the Gypsy.

  She was waiting by the gate, wrapped up in a khaki skirt and a gauzy shirt, and was still missing the soles of her sandals. She called, “Sammy! Sammy, over here!”

  I kind of circled around her. “You don’t look like you’ve got good news.…”

  She pulled me aside, saying, “You’ve got to tell me the truth—for your own sake. Did you call the health department?”

  Right away I knew she meant on Palmer’s. “No way!”

  She looked up like she was talking to God. “I knew it. I knew you wouldn’t do that.” She looked back at me and said, “They think you did. You or that Landvogt lady.”

  “Well, I didn’t.”

  “I believe you, but Palmer’s is shut down indefinitely, and Royce has got Paula believin’ that you and Rich Witch were behind it.”

  “But why would she want to shut down Palmer’s? It’s not like she’d ever go there.” A little picture of the Croc trying to shoot pool in her turban and claws ran through my brain, and it made me shudder.

  The Gypsy said, “Look, I can’t answer that. They don’t know I heard them talking—I just thought I should warn you; you gotta steer clear of both of them, girl. They’re acting real skittery.”

  “Like they’re mad? Or like they’re trying to hide something?”

  She shook her head. “Maybe both. It’s hard to say.”

  “Did they say anything about the dog?”

  “Not squat.” She pulled the brim of her hat down. “But I know they were squabbling about money. Something about him paying off a loan.”

  “To her?”

  “I don’t think so. Paula’s been known to skate in the shade, so I think it’s more like she’s connected him with someone.”

  “Skate in the shade?”

  “Not with the Mob, just loan sharks—that kind of scene. If Royce is tight for cash he might’ve bit the bait—who knows? It sure would explain why he’s so jumpy, poking a gun in your face like that.” She looked over her shoulder like she was afraid someone was following her. “Hey, I gotta boogie. You never saw me, right? I don’t like feeling like a narc. I was just worried about you.”

  She started across the street, and I called, “Hey!”

  She turned around. “Yeah?”

  “Um … thanks.”

  She pointed a finger at me like a gun. “Eight ball, corner pocket. Sink it.” Her hand jerked back like she’d fired, then she turned and hustled across the street.

  I watched her go, wondering what she’d meant by that. Sink it. Finally I shook my head and started trotting out to Landview Elementary.

  Elyssa didn’t jump up when she saw me. She dragged her lunchbox down the steps and said, “I thought you weren’t going to come.”

  I put out my hand and said, “Of course I came.”

  She let out a little sigh and put her hand in mine. “I thought you might still be crying.”

  I stopped and squatted down to look at her. “I’m sorry. I wish you hadn’t seen me be so
upset.”

  Her eyes looked so clear. So open. “Do you miss her?”

  “Mrs. Graybill?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  I started walking again and decided: there’s no way I should talk depressing stuff around Elyssa. I looked at her and said, “Mrs. Graybill was the crabbiest old lady I ever knew.”

  “She was?” Her eyes were like two big buttons.

  “And nosy. She was nosier than a … than an elephant!”

  She giggled. “She was?”

  “Uh-huh. Do you know what she used to do?”

  “What?!”

  So I went on and on about Mrs. Graybill, and to tell you the truth, it made me feel better, talking about her. And I was so busy talking that I completely forgot about seeing Officer Borsch until we were nearly past the mall.

  “Oh hey, I forgot! I’ve got to go see Officer Borsch.”

  “Again?”

  “He wasn’t there yesterday, remember?”

  She looked down and whispered, “I don’t want to go.”

  “It’ll be like yesterday. Just for a minute.”

  She looked up at me. “Promise?”

  “Promise.”

  “All right,” she said, but she was still pouting.

  So we went to the police station and she waited outside, just like the day before. And behind the counter was the Dodo, carrying around that nest, just like the day before. The Dodo smiled and said, “You’re back.”

  I nodded. “Is he here?”

  “Floating around somewhere—let me go find him.”

  She went around a pillar and I could hear her, buzzing him on an intercom. She came back and said, “He’ll be here in a few. He’s powdering his nose.”

  I looked through the window at Elyssa sitting on the bench and said, “Maybe I’ll wait outside.”

  She looked at me looking at Elyssa and did a double take. “Say, isn’t that Jim’s little girl?”

  “Jim?”

  “What’s her name? Eliza?”

  “Elyssa.”

  “Yeah, that’s it.” She shook her head and sighed. “What a tragedy.”

  It took me a minute. “He’s … dead?” I felt like a moron asking.

  She shuddered. “Unfortunately. Bust gone bad over on the west side. It was a messy one.” She took a deep breath, then let it out, saying, “What a great guy he was.”