The Homemade Stuffing Caper Read online

  “How’s everybody doin’ down there?” Olsen said.

  When I heard a thud, I knew he had entered the cellar. I aimed my flashlight right at him.

  “Hey, what’s goin’ on?” the old man said. “Get that thing outta my face.”

  Olsen moved in my direction.

  “Now!” I yelled.

  A jet of ice-cold water shot through the air and nailed Olsen in the middle of the chest. He let out a pained yelp and fell to the ground. Sherman was relentless in his assault. A second later, Henry and Scarlett ran up and covered him with handfuls of birdseed.

  “What do you think you’re doing?!” he screamed.

  The birds were now flying in all directions but hadn’t yet discovered the bonanza covering the old man. C’mon, you guys, we’re counting on you. This had to work. It just had to. When Socrates finally landed on Olsen’s head and began pecking at the seeds in his hair, it seemed to send a signal to his compatriots, who soon joined the feast. Within seconds, our captor was covered by his feathered friends.

  “Go!” Sherman yelled. “Now!” He had turned off the water to avoid injuring any of the birds.

  I grabbed Scarlett by the hand and led her past Olsen and up the stairway. Henry was right behind us. When we reached the cellar door, I pushed it open and looked out. The sky, filled with a million stars, was breathtaking. And the scent of the night air had never smelled better.

  Scarlett was next to me, and Henry … but no Sherman. Oh no.

  “Wait right here,” I told Scarlett. “I’ll be right back.”

  “What are you doing? We’re free. Don’t go back down there.”

  “I gotta get Sherman,” I said. “Don’t worry.”

  I snuck back down and flashed my light inside. Sherman was just about to make a dash for the door, but he had stopped for some reason.

  “C’mon, Sherman,” I yelled.

  “I’m not leaving without Socrates,” he said. “I owe him that.”

  Olsen was now sitting up. He was frantically waving at the birds, trying to shoo them away. But the little creatures were intense. No one, and I mean no one, was going to deny them a free meal.

  Sherman hovered over Olsen, waiting for a chance to scoop up Socrates. He was trying his best to keep his distance from the old man. Sherman was a big, strong kid, but even he had no intention of tussling with a character as large and dangerous as Olsen.

  “Maybe we should go get some help and then come back for the birds,” I suggested.

  “I’m not leaving without him,” Sherman said. And I knew I’d never change his mind.

  A moment later Olsen tried to stand but slipped on the wet floor and fell onto his back. That was when Sherman made his move. He crouched down and grabbed Socrates with both hands. Unaware that he had been snatched up by his rescuer, Socrates proceeded to peck Sherman relentlessly. But there was no way this determined kid was going to let go.

  “I got him!” Sherman said.

  “Okay, let’s get outta here,” I said.

  I headed straight for the stairs, but as Sherman attempted to sidestep Olsen, the old man reached out and tripped him. He grabbed onto Sherman’s ankle and held tight. Sherman started to kick and twist but Olsen’s grip was firm. I held out my hand and Sherman took hold. I pulled and yanked and tugged, but I was no match for the stranglehold Olsen had on Sherman’s leg.

  “You’re not going anywhere,” Olsen said. “And neither are any of your little friends.”

  “Here,” Sherman said as he handed Socrates to me. “Just go. I can handle him.”

  “No. We’re all in this together.”

  Sherman tried to free himself but Olsen had him in what seemed like a death grip.

  “Oh no!” Scarlett screamed. She and Henry had come back down to see what was delaying us. “Charlie, do something.”

  I handed Socrates to Scarlett and grabbed Sherman’s right hand. Henry took hold of his left. We pulled as hard as we could but it was no use.

  “This is never gonna work,” Henry said. He let go of Sherman’s hand, ran over, and picked up the hose. He pointed it at Olsen. “Let go of him right now.”

  Olsen chuckled. “Yeah, right.”

  “Let him have it,” Scarlett yelled.

  Henry moved the nozzle from side to side. He couldn’t seem to get an open shot. “I’m afraid I’m gonna hit one of the birds.” Then, as if they understood our predicament, two of the birds, apparently full, took flight—leaving a perfect target for Henry. He gripped the nozzle, pointed it at Olsen, and nailed him right in the face, causing him to lose his grip on Sherman. Henry dropped his weapon and joined the rest of us as we sprinted up the stairs and into the back yard.

  I breathed in the night air. This whole experience had been so crazy—no one would have believed it. But we had done it. We had actually done it. We were out. We were free. We were safe. At least I thought we were.

  CHAPTER 15

  The Grizzly Barefoot Caper

  It was time to make a beeline for the highway and get as far away from this farm as possible. Everyone was present and accounted for—including Socrates. I noticed Olsen’s blue pickup in the driveway. There was also a larger truck parked next to it. It was gray and looked like a delivery truck of some kind. I hadn’t realized it at the moment but on our way out, Scarlett had apparently grabbed a small cage. She was busy stuffing Socrates into it.

  “Okay, we gotta find the spot where we left our bikes,” I said. “I think it’s this way. C’mon.”

  “Wait a minute,” Sherman said. “We’re just leaving?”

  Henry rolled his eyes. “Yeah, we thought it might be a good idea considering there’s a psycho back there.”

  “But what about all those other birds?” Sherman said. “We can’t just leave ’em here.”

  “We can’t go back there now,” Scarlett said.

  But I knew Sherman was right. It was our duty—our responsibility—our mission—to rescue all the birds.

  “It’s too dangerous to go back,” I said. “Our best bet is to go get some help. Then we can come back with reinforcements and save these birds.”

  “You’re probably right.” Sherman said, frowning. “I just hope they’re still okay when we get back.”

  “That’s a chance we’ll have to take,” Henry said.

  “The sooner we get outta here, the better for all of us … including the birds,” I said. “C’mon, gang.” We paused for a moment to collect our bearings and then sprinted toward the front gate. With her arms wrapped around the cage, Scarlett was falling behind.

  Sherman fell back a few yards to keep an eye on her. “Why don’t you let me carry him for a while?” he said. A day earlier, none of us would have entrusted anything to Sherman, let alone our prized possessions. But this was a different kid now. Scarlett smiled and handed the cage over. She was now able to keep up with the rest of us.

  We hadn’t traveled more than a quarter mile when Scarlett pointed back at the house. “Look, he’s coming,” she whispered.

  Olsen was in a full gallop, heading right for us. We had about a seventy-five-yard lead on him. If we could maintain that distance, we’d be okay. I ran until my ribs ached, never looking back. Every so often, we could hear the sound of high grass and bushes being trampled. My flashlight was long gone. I must have dropped it somewhere along the way. We were fortunate to have a full moon lighting our path.

  In the distance we could see the fence. At one point I didn’t think my feet would carry me any further, but the sound of a pursuer is a great motivator. When we reached the gate, we began to search for the opening that Henry had cut in the fence.

  “Where is it?” I said.

  “Over here, I think,” Henry said.

  We could see Olsen bearing down on us. I scampered up and down the fence, frantically looking for our escape hatch. My heart was racing. The old man was within earshot now.

  “Stay right there and you won’t get hurt,” he yelled.

  “Maybe we
should try to climb over it,” I said. But I knew I’d never make it.

  “Charlie, over here,” Scarlett cried. She had found the hole and slithered through effortlessly.

  Henry, Sherman, and I quickly followed. We continued running, desperately trying to locate the spot where we had left our bikes.

  “I think they’re by that big tree over there,” Scarlett said.

  What was she talking about? I couldn’t see any tree. At this point, however, I wasn’t about to argue. I let her lead the way. And lead us she did—right to the bikes. We jumped onto our trusty steeds, then realized that Sherman was without transportation.

  I slapped the rear fender of my bike. “Hop on, Sherman. We’ll have to ride double.”

  “No,” he said. “I’ll just slow you down.”

  We could hear Olsen’s heavy footsteps. He was breathing down our necks.

  “I think we better split up,” Sherman said. “He can’t chase all of us. You three go ahead. I’ll try to circle around and catch up to you later. Where are you headed? The police?”

  “No,” I said.

  “Remember where you got Socrates from?”

  “You mean the barber shop?”

  “Yeah, there’s an office on the second floor of that building.” I looked back and noticed Olsen trying to crawl through the hole in the fence. He seemed to be caught. “We gotta go.” I took the cage from Sherman and we were off … in opposite directions. I balanced the cage on the handlebars and wrapped my arm around it. It wasn’t the most comfortable way to travel but there was no other option. I hoped it wouldn’t slow me down too much. We concentrated on putting some distance between ourselves and our pursuer. We knew that since we had split up with Sherman, Olsen would now have to choose which of us to follow.

  When we had traveled about five hundred yards, we noticed Olsen on our trail again. He was slowing down however. After a few more steps, he stopped, turned around, and headed back in the direction of the house.

  “Yes!” I screamed. “We did it.”

  “How can you celebrate at a time like this?” Scarlett said, pedaling furiously.

  “Lighten up, would you?” Henry said.

  “What’s the problem, Scarlett?” I said. “We’re all safe and Olsen’s not chasing us anymore. That’s great news.”

  “Have you forgotten about the birds, and what’s probably going to happen to them when he gets back to that farmhouse?”

  For a moment, I actually had. I felt horrible. I wanted to turn back and try to rescue them, but I knew that the best thing was for us to get to Eugene’s and call for help. I wanted to defend myself but I decided not to, probably because I was too winded to speak. We rode as if we were trying to overtake the lead rider in a cycling race. I pedaled from a standing position the entire time, which wasn’t easy considering I was still clutching the birdcage. We managed to cover the terrain in what seemed like seconds.

  “The barber shop’s only about a block from here,” Scarlett said.

  We rode down a dark alley until we reached the shop. We ditched our bikes behind the building and entered through the back door. We flew up the stairs and Scarlett immediately knocked on the door.

  “What are you doing? Eugene won’t be here this late. And even if he was, he wouldn’t answer,” I said. “That’s not the password.”

  “What are you talking about?” she said.

  “Show her, Charlie,” Henry said. “Show her how it’s done.”

  “Another time,” I said, “when we’re not running for our lives. But right now, there’s an easier way.” I reached into my pocket and produced a key. I smiled confidently, slid the key into the lock, turned it, and pushed the door open.

  “After you, my dear,” I said.

  “Nice,” Henry said.

  We entered the office, locked the door behind us, and flipped on the desk lamp. I set the cage with Socrates on top of the desk. Scarlett picked up the telephone receiver and handed it to me.

  “Here, call Eugene,” she said.

  I just stared at it. Eugene still had one of those old-time phones that had to be dialed.

  “Um … I don’t know his number,” I said.

  “Call your grandma then,” Henry said. “She’ll know it.”

  “If I call my house, my mom or dad will answer. Then I’m gonna have to explain this whole thing. I’m not quite prepared to do that.”

  “They’re going to find out eventually,” Scarlett said.

  “I know, but I’d rather tell them about it after we’ve wrapped up a successful case. That’ll make it a little easier.”

  Scarlett put her hands on her hips. “Well, do something.”

  The sound of a door opening at the bottom of the stairs startled us.

  “Who could that be?” Scarlett said. “Eugene maybe?”

  “Or Olsen,” Henry whispered. “Maybe he did follow us.”

  Scarlett let out a whimper.

  I pointed to the desk. “Come on, we’ll hide under there.”

  We crawled under the desk, huddled together, and held our breaths. Scarlett’s eyes were closed tightly. We had locked the door. Olsen would have to break it down if he wanted to find us. How were we ever going to get out of this? How was it possible to overpower this brute? We had done it once. But there were no gadgets here to help us out a second time. It seemed hopeless. The building was empty. What if the worst actually happened? This wasn’t the way I had intended to meet my maker. I had so wanted to reach my thirteenth birthday—the whole teenage thing and all. It seemed like it wasn’t to be.

  Tomorrow morning, Eugene would enter his office and make a gruesome discovery. It would easily be a front page story. The kids might even get a day off school. It would be a triple funeral. Now that would be a real spectacle. There’d be a line of cars a mile long. My mother would be in a black dress and veil. She’d …

  Wait a minute. My mother. Of course. That was it. She was in my room the other day. And I remembered quizzing her about it. Now, if Eugene had truly laid out this office in official Sam Solomon décor, then I knew exactly what I had to do. I began banging on the bottom of the desk.

  “What are you doing?” Scarlett said.

  “There’s a secret compartment under this desk. And if I’m right, there’s a little something we can use to buy ourselves some time.”

  “What are you talking about?” she said.

  There was no time to deal with hysterical civilians. I continued pounding. It had to be in here. It just had to.

  “Maybe there’s a button or a lever or something,” Henry said.

  There were no magic buttons. I knew that. All Sam ever did was apply pressure in a particular spot. Then right on cue, a flap would open and a can of sneezing powder would fall out. I can still remember reading in Episode #16—The Grizzly Barefoot Caper—when Sam tossed a handful of powder into the face of Joey “Papa Bear” Jacobson. The notorious underworld figure had surprised Sam in his office late one night. “Papa Bear” went into an uncontrollable sneezing fit allowing Sam to sneak out undetected.

  We could hear someone climbing the stairs. All I had to do was find this magic potion. Then if Olsen did break in, I’d have a little surprise for our uninvited guest. But first I had to find it. How could Eugene call himself an official Sam Solomon fan and not have a secret compartment under his desk? It was a disgrace. Everything else in the room was a perfect reproduction. How could he have missed such a crucial detail? It just had to be here.

  “Think, Charlie,” Scarlett said. “If it can help us, you gotta remember. C’mon, use your head.”

  Now that was an idea. Since nothing else had worked, I decided to do just that. I crouched down under the desk and banged the back of my head on the bottom of the drawer. And just like that, as if I had hit the jackpot on a slot machine, a tiny door opened, and its contents poured out onto the floor.

  I kept waiting for a can to drop down, but all that fell out were dozens and dozens of … candy bars. There was e
very kind imaginable—ones with milk chocolate and dark chocolate and peanuts and almonds and caramel and marshmallows and …

  “What’s going on?” Scarlett said.

  There was no sneezing powder. There was nothing here that would help us defend ourselves against this madman. I picked up one of the candy bars and threw it down onto the pile with the others.

  “So much for watching your triglycerides, Eugene.”

  “Shhh,” Scarlett said. “I heard something.”

  She was right. There was a voice outside the door.

  I was expecting our pursuer to kick in the door but instead I heard what sounded like a key in the lock. But how would Olsen have a key? Wait a minute. Maybe he was picking the lock—with those tools Sherman showed us. A second later, the door swung open. I heard a voice. No, there were two voices. They were faint at first.

  “Well, I get to pick the next movie. This one was a dog,” a man’s voice said.

  “All right, all right, you made your point. It looked good in the commercial. What can I tell you,” a woman said.

  As the three of us remained huddled under the desk, I could immediately tell that the man’s voice wasn’t Olsen’s. In fact, it was a very familiar voice. As was the woman’s.

  I popped up from under the desk and sheepishly said, “Hi, guys.”

  Grandma and Eugene seemed surprised to see us, to say the least.

  “Charlie, what are you doing here?” Gram said. She pointed to the cage on the desk. “And where did this bird come from?”

  A moment later, Scarlett emerged. Then Henry.

  “What’s going on here?” Eugene asked.

  “Well, we’ve gotten ourselves into a bit of a jam,” I said, “and we need a little help.”

  Before Eugene could respond, he spotted his stash of candy bars on the floor under the desk. “What happened?”

  “I was looking for something … but I couldn’t find it. All I found,” I said, pointing at the candy bars, “were these.”

  “What were you looking for?” he said.

  “It doesn’t matter.”

  It didn’t take Gram long to notice the candy. She folded her arms and stared at Eugene. “Why do I waste my time trying to help you keep your cholesterol numbers down?”