The Homemade Stuffing Caper Page 6

  “Is it safe to assume that most of your cases are, shall we say, trivial in nature?”

  I nodded.

  “How’d you like a taste of the big score? With real clients, makin’ some real money …”

  “With real danger?” I asked.

  “Well, it happens occasionally, but we don’t wish for it.” He took off his hat and flipped it across the room. It hit against the wall and dropped onto the hook. A perfect shot. “If you haven’t noticed, Charlie, I’m getting a little up in years. I could use a little help around here.”

  I was having a hard time believing everything I was hearing. Eugene? A real private detective?

  “Charlie, I’d like you to become my apprentice. Learn the ropes. Pay your dues in this business. And maybe someday all of this will be yours.”

  I knew that I should jump at this opportunity. I’d been itching for some new clients … mature clients … real clients. But I was hesitant. I mean, who in his right mind is going to hire a ninety-year-old guy solve a case? Heck, it was as unlikely as hiring a twelve-year-old. I just couldn’t imagine a mysterious redhead walking through that door and actually requesting Eugene’s services. It just wasn’t going to happen.

  “So, what do you say?” Eugene said. “You can start right away. How about tomorrow after school?”

  I had to think this thing out, and quickly. Granted, this wasn’t the dream job I had longed for, but maybe I could learn something here. Refine my skills. Even if it just meant listening to Eugene tell stories from his glory days, it might still be interesting. And if this Scarlett thing never panned out, this just might take my mind off of it. And, you know, as unlikely as something really big ever happening here was, there was probably a better chance that a real client with a real problem would wander into this office than into my garage.

  I looked at Gram, who smiled and nodded in encouragement. I then turned to the senior private eye. “Eugene, I accept.”

  He reached out to shake my hand. “It’ll be nice having an associate again.”

  Associate. I liked the way it sounded. I could get used to that.

  Eugene sat back in his chair, pulled a candy bar from his pocket, broke off a piece, and was just about to pop it into his mouth when Gram jumped off the couch and grabbed it from him.

  “What do you think you’re doing?” Gram said.

  “I just need a little energy boost, that’s all.”

  “Have you forgotten what your doctor told you?”

  “My cholesterol is fine,” Eugene said, rolling his eyes.

  “Your triglycerides are off the charts.” Grandma said. “You got any more of these around here?”

  “Not a one,” Eugene said.

  “All right. Let’s keep it that way.”

  When Grandma turned away from Eugene, the old man made a face at her and winked at me.

  “Now, where were we?” Eugene said. “Oh yeah … remember, Charlie, not a word to anyone about all this.”

  “Don’t worry,” I said. And just as the words slipped off my tongue, I thought about Henry. Not tell Henry? We were partners. How could I cut him out of the action? I’m sure he’d get a kick out of this—if for no other reason than the fact we’d be making some real money.

  “Ready to go?” Grandma said.

  “Wait. You mean I can’t even tell Henry?”

  “Not a soul,” Eugene said. “Listen, Charlie, let me explain something. This is a private private detective agency. By that I mean—I work for a select group of clients. I’m not out there advertising. I don’t need any new business. And I have to make sure I’m available when my best and most important client calls—my favorite uncle.”

  “Uncle?” I said.

  “Uncle Sam,” Gram whispered.

  “I still do some top-secret work for the government. So, you see, it’s best if we just keep things between ourselves. You got it?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Not to mention the fact that your folks probably wouldn’t approve of you joining forces with me. Your grandmother tells me they’re not too keen on your little business.”

  “That’s one way to put it,” I said.

  “So, I’ll see you tomorrow after school, okay?” Eugene said. “And, oh, by the way …” He opened the top desk drawer and pulled out something. He tossed it across the room to me. It was a key—a skeleton key.

  I looked at him curiously. “What’s this for?”

  “It opens the front door,” Eugene said. “But it might also open up a whole lot more.”

  CHAPTER 6

  The Dues and Don’ts Caper

  During the drive home, I found myself imagining what might happen. Maybe, just maybe, a legitimate client would stroll into the office with a Sam Solomon brand of mystery. It would be great. Yeah. This just might be the perfect move. I could probably close up the garage for a while. No need to maintain two offices. I wasn’t quite sure how I’d break the news to Henry though. It didn’t seem right shutting him out, but what choice did I have? My new associate had asked me to keep a lid on our little partnership.

  I supposed I could tell Henry that I just needed a little break—that I was worried about burning out. He might just buy it. It wouldn’t affect our friendship. I’d see to that. We’d just be closing the book on one chapter of our lives, and opening another. I was fairly certain I could sell it. And then, at the right time, I’d tell him about my association with Eugene. I was sure he’d understand.

  I was suddenly jarred back to reality when Grandma maneuvered one of her patented U-turns on the four-lane downtown thoroughfare at the height of rush hour. It certainly got us noticed. The flurry of catcalls never seemed to faze her, though. And why not? A cryptologist in WWII. Undercover private detective assignments. It all made sense to me now.

  Suddenly Grandma slammed on the brakes. “Looks like we got a freight train up ahead. We’ll be here for a few minutes.”

  “That’s okay. Nothing can spoil today. It’s been great. Thanks, Gram.”

  “I’m glad. I knew you’d flip when you found out about Eugene and me. And you know why?”

  I shook my head.

  “It’s because we’re a lot alike, you and me. We both enjoy a good adventure. And if we can’t find one, sometimes we have to create one for ourselves.” She winked. “Know what I mean?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “But there were times when I didn’t have to pretend—when I didn’t play make-believe for my own amusement. I can remember many times where I had to assume other identities to help solve a case. It was fun. I enjoyed it.” She sighed. “Now it’s hard to give it all up.”

  “I understand.”

  “You just don’t get something like that out of your system overnight. So, every so often I have a little fun.” She leaned over and grinned. “And knowing that it drives your dad crazy makes it even better.”

  I laughed.

  “A lot of people think I’m a little eccentric. Maybe so. But you know what I think—I think they’re all jealous. They wish they could get away with it.”

  “I think you may be right.”

  “So, I want you to really enjoy this time with Eugene. I want you to have adventures that you can re-create when you’re my age. It sure takes the sting outta gettin’ old,” she said with a smirk.

  I knew exactly what she meant. And I made a pledge to myself that day to follow in her footsteps when I reached my golden years—no matter what people thought.

  A half hour after my most amazing afternoon, we were home. I went straight to my room to get a handle on my new career. I just couldn’t get it out of my head. This was so amazing—all the stuff about Gram and Eugene. And now I was about to be a part of it all. I kept thinking about tomorrow—the first day of my apprenticeship. It promised to be legendary.

  Later that night, I was watching TV in the living room. Mom was reading a magazine, while Dad wrestled with a newspaper on the couch. My dad was a noisy reader. When he found an interesting story,
he’d fold the paper into a neat rectangle so just that article was visible. When he finished, he’d unfold it and do it all over again, a zillion times.

  “Doris,” my dad said, “did you see this story? The police found a body on a Miami beach. He had a fractured skull and a bunch of broken bones.”

  “Oooh, how terrible,” she said. My mother was not a fan of gruesome details.

  “But get this—the cause of death was hypothermia.”

  “Hypothermia? You mean he froze to death?” she said. “In Miami?”

  “You think that’s strange?! There were no footprints or tire tracks in the sand around the body.” My dad set the paper on the coffee table. “So how the heck did he get there?”

  As was my nature, I was conveniently listening in on my parents’ conversation. It had paid dividends in the past. I thought about the clues my dad had rattled off—broken bones, hypothermia, no footprints.

  “I can tell you how he got there,” I said before my mother could respond. “I think the guy was dead before he broke any bones.”

  “Huh?” My dad seemed skeptical. “How do you figure?”

  “There’s only one way to freeze to death on a Miami beach. This guy had to have been a stowaway.”

  “Where do you come up with this stuff?” My dad was clearly challenging my logic.

  “Dad, don’t you see? He must have stowed away in the landing gear of a jet. When it got to thirty thousand feet, he froze to death. Then near the end of the flight, the landing gear comes down, and he falls out. That’s why there were no footprints.” I loved watching the reaction on my parents’ faces when they realized that I had nailed another one. “Good night,” I said as I headed to my room. I looked back and noticed my parents just staring at each other. I was hoping that this might be the turning point. Maybe they would finally learn to appreciate my talents instead of always trying to stifle me. I wanted to believe that in the worst way but I knew it would never happen.

  At school on Tuesday, the second hand on the clock was back to its old tricks. Never had a day seemed so long—and so unproductive. I had tried my best to talk to Scarlett every chance I could get—in class, between periods, at lunch, on the playground, you name it—but every attempt had been foiled. She was either talking to a teacher, or a group of friends, or taking a makeup exam, or was simply nowhere to be seen. I tried to convince myself that she wasn’t avoiding me, but it sure looked that way. Maybe she was no longer interested in my help. I hoped that wasn’t the case, but I guessed I wouldn’t blame her if it was. Every time she had tried to talk to me, something or someone had always gotten in the way.

  When the bell finally rang, I grabbed my backpack, bolted out the door, and continued to look for her. Twenty minutes later, I suspended the search. She had vanished. It was time to accept defeat. If a business relationship with Scarlett, or any other kind of relationship for that matter, wasn’t in the cards, then I should at least try to appreciate the fact that Eugene was offering me the kind of opportunity that I had dreamed about for years. I made my way to the bus stop. I didn’t want to be late for the first day of my apprenticeship at Eugene’s. When I hopped on the bus, I looked around for Henry but then I remembered that his mom was picking him up for a dentist’s appointment. Maybe it was for the best. I didn’t want to have to explain to him where I was headed this afternoon.

  “What’s your rush, Charlie?” Milton said.

  “Oh, nothing really.”

  Our bus driver, Milton Jarvis, was the nicest man I had ever met, and one of the most patient. No matter how disruptive the gang got, he never lost his cool. As long as everyone remained seated, we could be as loud as we liked. When you stepped up into his vehicle, you were always greeted with a smile. When you exited, Milton left you with a wink. I don’t think the man ever had a bad day in his life.

  The ride home, like everything else that day, dragged on. When we finally pulled up to my stop, I attempted to hop off but the bus door jammed. I decided not to wait for Milton to unstick it. I’d do it myself. I dropped my backpack and yanked at it.

  “Relax, Charlie,” Milton said. “I’ll take care of it.”

  But I couldn’t relax. The first day of my professional career was about to begin and I wasn’t going to be sidetracked by a mechanical malfunction. The more I pulled, the less it budged.

  “It won’t move,” I groaned. When I turned, Milton was standing over my shoulder with a why-don’t-you-just-let-me-do-it look on his face. I backed off. Milton leaned in and began to monkey with one of the steel rollers at the top. A second later, the door slid open.

  “Something must be pretty important, huh?” Milton said.

  “Yeah, something important,” I said. “Thanks, I’ll see you later.”

  I hopped off and watched as the bus roared off. I decided to wait on the corner momentarily, just in case some nosy classmate tried to eyeball me from the back window. Couldn’t let anyone get suspicious about my eagerness to return to the nest. For my trouble, I managed to catch a mouthful of exhaust.

  When the bus was safely out of sight, I hustled down the block, up our driveway, in the back door, and into my room. I threw my backpack onto the bed and changed clothes. I ran back through the kitchen and stopped. A basket of fruit and a plate of doughnuts caught my eye. Well actually, it was the doughnuts that caught my eye. Let’s see: There’s the wise, healthy choice, and the choice I usually make. Which will it be today?

  Now, mind you, I’m a fairly intelligent kid. This shouldn’t have been a difficult decision. But I was going to have to pedal clear across town. I needed a quick burst of energy to motor these stocky legs. There, I had done it. I had justified the poor choice. I wasn’t proud but at least I was decisive. I grabbed the glazed one, and by the time I reached the garage, the doughnut had left this earth. It was in a better place.

  I wiped my hands on my pants and swung open the door. I stopped short, and was surprised—no, make that shocked—to see Henry sitting on a folding chair with his feet up on the card table.

  “What are you doing here?” I said. “I thought you had a dentist appointment.”

  “He cancelled. He had a toothache.”

  I smiled.

  “And it’s a good thing,” he said as reached over and picked up a yellow legal pad from the workbench. He tapped on it with his knuckle. “We’ve got a client. Don’t you remember? I would have sent you a text to remind you but neither of us has cell phones, and even if we did, you’d never use yours.”

  I pulled the pad from his hands. “Oh, umm, look, I can’t do this today. We’ll have to reschedule. I have to be somewhere. Sorry.”

  “Where?” Henry said.

  I looked down at my feet. I wanted to tell him in the worst way but I just couldn’t. It wasn’t my call. Eugene had drawn up the rules.

  “Look, just somewhere, okay,” I said. “It’s not important.”

  Henry looked at me suspiciously. “What’s going on with you? Like you always say—what’s more important than helping out your fellow man?”

  I hated it when Henry lectured me. I hated it even more when he was right. I sighed. We had booked a client. I had to honor it. “Who’s coming? How long will it take?” I asked.“One of your favorites,” Henry said with a mischievous grin.

  One of my favorites? Who could he be talking about—wait a minute—had he actually managed to persuade Scarlett to come back? After all the problems we’d been having trying to connect, was she about to walk through that door one more time? But how could it be? This was Henry. Knowing how he felt about Scarlett, I was sure he would never have booked her. Unless he felt bad about how things had turned out Saturday night? Of course, that was it. He knew I was teed off about the whole thing. And now he was trying to make up for it.

  “Okay,” I said. “I suppose I can fit in a needy client before I have to take off.” I was sure Eugene would understand if I was a few minutes late.

  And right on cue, there was a tapping at the door. Henry s
cooted over to welcome in Eddie Akers, aka … Fast Eddie. Eddie had earned his nickname by the rate at which he spoke … and his love affair with the easy life. He was unfamiliar with the phrase hard work. If there was a fast and easy way to accomplish a task, Eddie was all over it.

  “Hello, gentlemen, what can you do for me?” Eddie said.

  Henry climbed to his feet, and held out his hand, palm up. “Let’s see it, Eddie.”

  “See what?”

  “You know what I’m talking about.”

  “Huh?”

  “The cash. You still owe from last time.”

  “Oh.” Eddie chuckled nervously. “I’m good for it. You know me.”

  “That’s the problem, Fast Eddie, we know you.”

  Henry was not about to let Eddie pull a patented fast one.

  “If you’re looking for a little advice from Charlie here, it’s gonna cost you at least a couple of bucks … upfront.”

  Eddie dug his hands into both pockets, turning them inside out. “I seem to be a little short.”

  “No, Eddie, I’m a little short … and you’re out of luck,” Henry informed the soon-to-be-ex client.

  Without waiting for a response from our guest, Henry began shoving Eddie out the door, while I watched with one eye. Good, this wouldn’t take long.

  “Wait a minute, guys, there’s something in it for you this time,” Eddie pleaded.

  Henry wasn’t buying it. He dragged Eddie to the exit.

  “Charlie, do something,” Eddie said. He seemed desperate.

  “Wait, Henry,” I said. “Okay, Eddie, spill it.”

  Without waiting for an invitation, Eddie pulled up a chair and plopped down.

  “Okay, here’s the deal. Tomorrow at noon, there’s gonna be this contest at Eli’s Electronics Emporium. They’re giving away a fifty-dollar gift certificate. It’s sweet, let me tell you.” Eddie still had not come up for air.

  “What kind of contest?” I asked.

  “That’s the best part. It’s a brainteaser.” He leaned forward and grinned. “And I just happen to have an advance copy of the question.”

  “How’d you manage that?” Henry said.