The Homemade Stuffing Caper Page 16

  “Constance, I’m only human.”

  Grandma shook her head. It appeared she wasn’t done lecturing Eugene. But before she could continue, we heard the downstairs door open again.

  “There’s someone out there,” Eugene said.

  “Uh-oh,” I said, “he found us.”

  Eugene looked right at me with narrowing eyes. He didn’t seem happy. “I’m guessing you know who that is.”

  “Well … kind of … listen, we better get out of here.”

  “Charlie, what’s going on?” Eugene said. “Who’s out there?”

  “All right, I should have told you. We went over to the Olsen farm looking for Socrates.”

  Eugene threw his hands up. “What did I tell you about that?”

  “I know, I know … but we hit the jackpot. We found Socrates. See,” I said, pointing to the cage. “And we also found all of the other stolen birds—some alive, some dead, some stuffed. Eugene, he’s a black market taxidermist.” I was almost afraid to continue. “You see, he found us in his basement and locked us in there. We escaped but now he’s come back to shut us up.”

  We could hear heavy footsteps climbing the stairs.

  “How will we get out of here?” Scarlett said.

  “There’s another exit,” Eugene said.

  “Where?” I asked.

  “You should know. Any Sam Solomon fan should know. Does the Hudson Gang ring a bell? In fact, Sam used this escape in more than one novel.”

  The intruder was nearing the top step.

  “Hudson Gang? What are you talking—” And then all at once it hit me. I ran over to the window and threw it open. I pulled the fake plant out of the flower box. And there it was—the rope ladder. I dug in for it and tossed it over the side of the building.

  “Okay, gang,” I announced, “let’s do it.”

  “Ladies first,” Eugene said.

  Grandma smiled. “It’s just like old times.” She scooted to the window, climbed over the ledge, and began to shimmy down the rope.

  Eugene motioned for Scarlett to go next.

  She approached the window and froze. “Someone else go.”

  “Sweetie, don’t be nervous,” Eugene said. “You can do this.”

  Scarlett was not about to budge.

  “Okay,” the veteran P.I. said. “In that case, Charlie, go ahead.”

  “Henry, you go. I’ll wait and help Scarlett.”

  Henry scooted to the window and effortlessly began his descent.

  We heard footsteps approaching the door.

  “Eugene, you better go next,” I said.

  Eugene reluctantly moved toward the window, tugged on the rope to make certain it was secure, and soon disappeared.

  “I’ll help you, c’mon,” I said to Scarlett.

  “I don’t think I can do this.”

  “Of course you can. I’ll be right here with you.”

  “Charlie, you don’t understand. I’m afraid of heights.”

  “Just don’t look down.”

  “Oh yeah, right. It’s not that easy.”

  The doorknob began to rattle. I wasn’t quite sure what to do. I knew that the chivalrous thing would be to wait until she was safely down, but that wasn’t about to happen in the near future. And with Olsen only seconds away from gaining entry, I decided it best to get myself to the ground and then to gently try to coax Scarlett down.

  I climbed out onto the ledge, and began to lower myself down the rope. I was worried about a rope burn, but even more concerned about losing my grip, and splattering onto the sidewalk. I could do this. I knew it. I had to make it. I had to. About five feet from the ground, I let go. THUD! I landed on my butt. I climbed to my feet and noticed Scarlett still in the window.

  “Come on,” I said.

  She looked down and began to tremble. “I just can’t do it.”

  The decision was quickly made for her when the intruder began banging on the door.

  “Ahh!” Scarlett screamed.

  “C’mon, honey, now!” Grandma yelled.

  Scarlett stepped over the ledge and onto the top rung. She began to lower herself ever so slowly.

  “You’re doing great. Keep going,” I said.

  Halfway down, she froze. “I can’t move.”

  “Don’t look down,” I screamed.

  “Just leave me here and get some help. I’ll be okay.”

  “I’m not leaving you. It’s only a few more steps,” I yelled.

  “I told you I can’t!”

  “Look!” Eugene said.

  There was a figure now standing in the window watching us.

  “Hurry!” Grandma screamed.

  Scarlett was about three-quarters of the way down when she suddenly froze. She clung to the rope with her eyes tightly closed.

  “Jump!” Henry yelled.

  Then, unfortunately, for the first time in her life, Scarlett actually listened to Henry. She just let go. I circled under her with my arms extended, hoping for the best. And then—PLUNK! She had landed directly in my arms. That was the good news. The bad news? My legs gave way and we both toppled to the ground.

  She jumped up and brushed herself off. She could have at least said “Thank you.” But instead, in the most sarcastic tone, she uttered, “My hero.” I should have been offended, but under the circumstances, this was no time to feel sorry for myself.

  “Hey, you guys left Socrates up here,” the figure in the window called out.

  It wasn’t Olsen’s voice.

  “Sherman?” I said.

  “You’re not just gonna leave him here, are you?” Sherman said.

  “You know that guy?” Eugene said.

  “Well, yeah,” I said. “He’s the kid who’s been stealing all the birds in the neighborhood.”

  “What?” Eugene said. He shot a confused look in Grandma’s direction.

  “But he’s not doing that anymore,” I said.

  “Yeah, he’s seen the error of his ways,” Henry added.

  “He’s with us now,” I said.

  “He’s okay. He helped us escape,” Scarlett said.

  Eugene shook his head. “So, now what?”

  “So now we have to go back to the farm and save those birds before Olsen kills them.”

  “It’s our duty,” Henry said.

  Sherman was now climbing down the ladder with one arm securely around the cage. Socrates wasn’t making it easy though. He was squawking loudly and trying his best to peck at Sherman’s fingers through the cage bars.

  Grandma rubbed her hands together. “Time to get to work,” she said with a smile. “C’mon, gang.”

  We followed her to the old Chrysler Newport and piled in. The cavalry was on its way.

  CHAPTER 16

  The Wok in the Park Caper

  What do you think, Eugene? To the police station?” Grandma asked as she pulled out of the parking lot.

  “There’s no time,” Eugene said. “We better go straight to the farm. If Olsen’s been killing these birds like the kids say, there’s no telling what he’ll do now. He may be destroying the evidence as we speak.”

  “He better not be,” Sherman said.

  “Constance, do you know where we’re headed?” Eugene asked.

  “I know exactly where that place is,” she assured him. “A lot of folks know where Olsen lives—if for no other reason than just to avoid him.”

  I was positioned in the backseat between Sherman and Henry. Scarlett sat in the front between Gram and Eugene. When the car pulled out onto the main road, we were suddenly thrown back as Grandma put pedal to metal. Eugene opened the glove compartment, pulled out a handful of maps, and threw them onto the floor. He reached in and slid out some contraption—it looked like some sort of radio—with lights and buttons and a small screen. There was also a handheld microphone attached to its side. It was the kind of mike you’d see on those old police shows. Eugene began playing with the dials and held down a button on the microphone.

  “What�
��s that?” I asked.

  Eugene held up one finger. I needed to wait. He was now engaged in an important communication. “Captain Shamus to Chicken Bone. Captain Shamus to Chicken Bone. Come in, Chicken Bone. Over.”

  There was a short pause and then a voice responded, an older man’s voice. “This is Chicken Bone. Nice to hear from you, Cap’n. What can we do for you? Over,” he said.

  “I need a favor. We have a situation requiring backup. We need to apprehend a suspect and deliver him to the nearest Smokey Bear. We’re headed to the Rupert Olsen farm on Route Thirty-four. Over.”

  “Olsen?” the voice said. “What’s that troublemaker up to now? Over.”

  “My sources indicate a black market operation of some kind,” Eugene said. “Over.”

  “Wouldn’t put it past him. Hey, Cap’n, what’s your ten-twenty? Over.”

  “We just turned onto Old State Road Forty-seven. Over.”

  “What’s your E-T-A? Over.”

  “About ten minutes, I hope. Over.”

  Grandma tugged on Eugene’s sleeve and nodded in the direction of the radio.

  “Oh, I’m supposed to say ‘hi’ from Mother Hubbard. Over.”

  “Well, a big howdy back to Mother Hubbard. And tell her I’m on my way. Wouldn’t wanna miss this one. Over.”

  “I owe you one, Chicken Bone. Ten-Roger.”

  “So what is that thing, Eugene?” I asked.

  “This, Charlie, is a CB radio. With everybody hooked on cell phones these days, not too many folks use these anymore. But there’s still a bunch of us who just can’t break the habit.” Eugene smiled, set down the microphone, and slid the radio back into the glove box.

  Flying down an abandoned rural highway proved to be the best ride of my life. The fastest roller coaster I had ever been on paled in comparison. Gram had no doubt participated in high-speed chases in the past. It was just like the ride that Sam Solomon experienced in Episode #19—The Wok in the Park Caper. Sam had discovered that a Chinese restaurant was actually a front for a ring of international jewel thieves. When Sam got a little too close, he found himself dodging pedestrians, bikers, and runners in New York’s Central Park while bound and gagged in a runaway rickshaw. Like Sam and Gram, I welcomed the opportunity.

  While we drove, we did our best to explain everything we had seen and heard while captive on the farm. Eugene no longer seemed upset with our decision to go out there on our own. He asked for specific descriptions of the farmhouse, the cellar, the surrounding fields, and Sherman’s deal with Olsen. We told him everything. Soon the metal fence along the perimeter of the Olsen farm came into view.

  “This is it,” I said to the others. “Hold on to your seats.”

  Scarlett looked into the backseat and returned a nervous smile.

  The Chrysler screeched to a stop at the locked gate.

  “Now what?” Eugene said. “We’ll never get through that.”

  I leaned forward. “We cut a hole in the fence about a hundred yards down. We can get through there.”

  “What do you think?” Eugene said to Gram.

  Gram just smiled.

  I had seen that smile before. I knew something was up. I made sure my seat belt was secure. I motioned for the others to do the same.

  “What’s up?” Henry said.

  “You’ll see.”

  Gram turned to Eugene and winked. “Just sit back, partner, and enjoy the ride.” She put the Chrysler in reverse and backed up about fifty yards. She then seemed to point the vehicle directly at the front gate.

  “You’re not serious, Constance?” Eugene said.

  Gram turned to face us. “Fasten your seat belts, kids.”

  And with that, she floored the accelerator. It didn’t take more than a couple of seconds for impact to occur. We crashed through the gate effortlessly. Metal and dirt flew in all directions. A piece of the fence attached itself to the front bumper until it lost its grip a few yards later. The vehicle had sustained little damage except for a few scratches on the hood and a broken headlight.

  “Where to, Charlie?” Grandma yelled out.

  I pointed in the direction of the farmhouse. If the ride to the farm had been a rush, it was nothing compared to our trek over the open fields. Grandma, intentionally or not, managed to hit every rock, bump, hole, you name it. More than once, we hit our heads on the car ceiling, but no one seemed to mind. It was worth it to help stop Olsen from harming our little friends. Every so often Scarlett would let out a squeak. I couldn’t help but wonder if she regretted joining us tonight.

  It didn’t take long before we reached the farmhouse. I immediately noticed that there were no lights on. Olsen must have killed the power after we got away. If I hadn’t known exactly where I was headed, I’m not sure we ever would have found this place. The single headlight on the car provided our only means of light. We all piled out.

  “Now where?” Gram asked.

  I ran over to the basement entrance. The others followed. The doors leading to the basement were still open. Then we heard a sound coming from the truck parked next to Olsen’s pickup. We ran over and found it filled with cages of squawking birds. Even some of the stuffed birds had been loaded in as well.

  “He’s getting rid of the evidence,” Henry said.

  “But at least the birds are still okay,” Scarlett said.

  “I’d feel a lot better if you kids got back in the car,” Eugene said. “This character is still around here somewhere.”

  “I wanna help capture him,” Sherman said. “This is all my fault.”

  “Son, I appreciate the offer, but I can’t risk having any of you youngun’s get hurt. C’mon, now, get back in there.”

  But before we could follow Eugene’s orders, a figure emerged from the shadows.

  “Is this a party or something?” It was our host.

  Scarlett slid behind me. I could hear her breathing.

  “Listen, Olsen,” Eugene said. “I’m afraid it’s over. We’re taking you in. It’d be best if you just surrendered now. We’ve got reinforcements on the way.”

  Olsen laughed. “Yeah, right.” He glanced in the direction of the front gate. “You’re bluffing. I don’t see anybody.”

  “Trust me, they’re coming,” Eugene replied.

  “I’ll take my chances,” Olsen said. “So it’s me against all of you. To be quite honest, I like the odds.”

  “Don’t be stupid,” Gram said. “You’re already in enough trouble.”

  “So what difference does it make then? What more can they do to me?”

  Eugene glanced in our direction. “What did I tell you kids? Everybody in the car. Let me deal with this myself.”

  None of us moved.

  “Get in the car,” Gram said. “I’ll stay out here with Eugene.”

  “No, I’m fine,” Eugene said. “Trust me.”

  Scarlett made a beeline for the car. Henry followed. Sherman and I stood our ground.

  “I can take him,” Sherman said loud enough for all to hear.

  “That won’t be necessary,” Eugene answered.

  “You’ll get your chance, Sherman,” Olsen said, “as soon as I finish off the old-timers.”

  From the distance we could see headlights. Soon we heard the sound of a motor. Seconds later, an old station wagon, which actually looked more like a hearse, pulled up and screeched to a halt. The front door opened and out stepped a man who looked even older than Eugene or Gram.

  “Good to see you, Chicken Bone,” Eugene said.

  “He’s your reinforcements,” Olsen said, laughing.

  “Listen, Olsen,” Chicken Bone said, “I’ve faced tougher characters than you. You don’t scare me.”

  Olsen shook his head and chuckled. Then suddenly his expression turned serious. “It’s too bad these kids have to see what’s about to happen. You could avoid all that, you know. All ya gotta do is turn around and forget everything you saw here,” Olsen said. “Or else, it ain’t gonna be pretty.”

&n
bsp; Eugene now sported a determined look. He appeared ready to defend us with all the might that his scrawny body could muster. Eugene turned around and motioned for the rest us to get into the car.

  It was at that moment, while his opponent was distracted, that Olsen made his move. He rushed Eugene and knocked him off his feet. I was halfway in the car when I stopped. Something suddenly came over me. For some reason, I wasn’t nervous at all, and I didn’t care what happened to me. I stepped out, slammed the door shut, and sprinted in the direction of Olsen.

  But a few seconds before we were about to collide, Eugene, now on his knees, reached into his pocket and emerged with a handful of what looked like white powder. As Olsen came at him a second time, he tossed a handful of the powder into Olsen’s face. The assailant stopped in mid-stride, then began to rub his eyes. He started to cough and choke. And then he sneezed … and sneezed … and sneezed. He couldn’t stop. Chicken Bone ran at Olsen, knocking him over. Olsen fell onto his back. Chicken Bone rolled him over and pulled his arms behind his back. Gram then ran up and slapped a pair of handcuffs on him.

  I smiled. So that was where the sneezing powder had gone. I knew that a real Sam Solomon fan would never leave the office unprepared. I ran over and helped Eugene to his feet.

  “Sherman, we could use your help now,” Eugene said. And so, Eugene, Sherman, and Chicken Bone dragged Olsen, still sneezing uncontrollably, and deposited him in the back of the station wagon.

  “Chicken Bone, you follow us out of here,” Eugene said. “On the way to the police station, we’ll call Animal Control and ask them to get over here and take care of these birds.”

  Chicken Bone nodded and hopped into his car. Sherman decided to ride in the station wagon with Chicken Bone to offer a little extra muscle if needed. The rest of us piled into Grandma’s car. As we drove to police headquarters, I couldn’t believe that it was finally over. We had successfully rescued Socrates, as well as all the other birds. And we had helped break up a black market taxidermy operation. Not bad for a bunch of twelve-year-olds—and three pretty awesome senior citizens. I guessed that the birds that were still alive would soon be returned to their rightful owners. But there were some that didn’t make it. It wouldn’t be pleasant having to share the news of their demise.