The Homemade Stuffing Caper Read online

  The Roamin’ Soldier Caper

  I wasn’t able to find an opportune moment to talk to Henry at school on Wednesday, so I waited for him at the bus stop that afternoon. When he arrived, it seemed as though he was avoiding me. I could tell he was still a little peeved about our conversation the day before. I felt bad but I didn’t know why. I hadn’t done anything wrong. I had told him the truth. Why did I somehow feel guilty? I needed to put this behind us, and quickly.

  “Listen, Henry, I want to tell you what’s going on, but you gotta believe me this time.”

  “If you’re gonna tell me the same garbage about Eugene, the private detective, then save your breath. I’m not interested.”

  “Why can’t I make you believe me?”

  “Because it’s ridiculous. You must think I’m stupid if you expect me to buy a lame story like that.” He dropped his backpack to the ground. “All right, you want me to believe you? Let’s go over to the library and I’ll ask Eugene for myself.”

  “You can’t do that.”

  “Figures.”

  “He’ll never admit to it. He told me not to say anything. If he knew I told you …”

  “Then we have nothing to talk about.”

  I somehow had to persuade him to join me. Maybe if I told him everything—about my grandmother, about Scarlett, about the lost birds—maybe then he’d buy in. Heck, he’d know I could never make up a story that good. When the bus pulled up, he stepped in front of me and climbed in. He sat in an outside seat and blocked my path so I couldn’t sit next to him. I refused to allow this little spat to continue. I sat directly behind him, and for the next twenty minutes, I proceeded—in a whisper of course—to fill his head with details until it exploded.

  “Eugene is a real private eye … he worked for Naval Intelligence in the war … my grandmother too … she helped him crack enemy codes for the Allies … after that she joined forces with Eugene at their own detective agency … then the other day, Scarlett strolls into the office …”

  I never took a breath. About three-quarters of the way through the epic, he turned around. From that point on, I knew I had him.

  “So, how is this gonna work then?” he said. “If you’re working for Eugene, and I’m working with you, how much do we charge, and how do we split it up?”

  Once the topic had changed to the collection of fees, I could tell that things were finally back to normal.

  Later that afternoon Henry and I sat around in my room mulling over the case. I showed him the piece of paper with the jibberish written in crayon. I shared my theory with him about the note being written by the birdnapper, but neither of us was really sure what we were looking at. We just weren’t certain how to proceed. This case had presented us with so little evidence. I kept waiting for something to miraculously pop into my head but there were no lightbulb moments. I began to wonder if my only true skill was solving brainteasers. Here I was, facing the real deal, and unable to click. I tightened all the muscles in my body. I closed my eyes and gritted my teeth. I would come up with a solution if it was the last thing I did.

  “If you try any harder, you’re going to hurt yourself,” Henry said.

  I exhaled. “Why is this one so tough?”

  “Why don’t we get on the Internet and search for an answer?”

  “Not interested. I prefer solving cases in the purest way possible. We don’t need high-tech devices. Sam Solomon didn’t need the Internet. Case in point—Episode #12—The Roamin’ Soldier Caper. Sam tracked down a conman who impersonated a G.I., and then who tried to finagle his way onto the Fort Knox complex for a shot at the mother lode. And, oh, did I mention that Sam managed to capture his suspect without the use of a cell phone, a GPS, or the Internet?”

  “Okay, but look at all the jams he got himself into,” Henry said. “Just think how much more efficient he might have been with even a netbook tucked away in his trench coat pocket.”

  “No computers,” I said. “It’s gotta be brainpower or nothing.”

  “Why don’t we at least network a little then?”

  “I said no computers.”

  Henry plopped down on the bed. “No, I mean a network of people. Hit the pavement. Branch out. Pick some brains. It sure sounds like something Sam would do, right?”

  Henry knew which buttons to push to win me over. “Okay … what do you have in mind?” I said.

  “What about your buddy Eugene?” Henry said.

  “I know he’d help us if we asked,” I said. “But I’d really like to show him that I can do this on my own, that he made the right decision to bring me on board. For now, let’s consider other options.”

  “What about your parents?”

  “Are you nuts? If they got wind that we were taking on clients again, I’d be grounded for … for … I don’t even want to think about it.”

  “All right then,” Henry said. “How about somebody at school like Mrs. Jansen? She’s pretty smart. Maybe she could help.”

  “I like the way you’re thinking. But if we talk to a teacher, it’ll more than likely get back to my parents. My mom volunteers at school a lot.”

  A noise from outside interrupted our conversation. We both ran to the window. Gripping the nozzle of a hose with both hands, Grandma was spraying water in the direction of the garage.

  “Of course! Why didn’t I think of it? We can ask my gram for help.”

  “Yeah, if she did this sort of work in the old days, she might have some ideas,” Henry said.

  When we reached my grandmother, she was huddled behind a pair of garbage cans, pelting the garage door with a jet of water.

  “Hey, boys!” Grandma yelled out. “Get in this bunker with me.”

  We crouched down and scooted over. Gram was dressed in full army fatigues, complete with helmet.

  “That band of brigands over there is all that stands between us and the kaiser.” She stood up, gripped the water nozzle like a machine gun, and continued her assault on the unsuspecting garage door. She then ducked back down behind the garbage cans. “That’ll give ’em something to think about.”

  “Gram, can we talk to you?”

  Grandma looked over her shoulder at an imaginary comrade. “Hey, Murphy, keep me covered. I gotta conference with a couple of civilians for a minute.” She crawled over to where we were sitting. “What can I do for you, fellas?”

  “Well …” I didn’t quite know where to begin.

  She set down the hose and smiled. It seemed as though she had returned to the present … for at least that moment.

  “So, how are things going”—Gram paused momentarily and glanced at Henry—“with you know who?”

  I smiled sheepishly. “Henry knows, Gram. I told him everything.”

  She seemed to think to herself for a minute. “Well, what the heck? Henry’s like a member of the family anyway. I don’t suppose Eugene’ll mind.”

  Henry grinned. To show his appreciation for her vote of confidence, he saluted Grandma. “Thanks, Mrs. Collier,” he said.

  Gram smiled and returned the gesture. She nodded for me to continue.

  “Well, Gram, things are actually going pretty good. I’m working on a real case, and Eugene’s letting me handle it myself.”

  “That’s great,” she said. She then held up a finger for me to wait a moment. She slowly lifted her head from behind the garbage cans and seemed to carefully survey the area. Her head suddenly snapped to the right. “Murphy, keep your eyes open. It’s too quiet out there.” Gram ducked back down. “Continue,” she said.

  “But, Gram, to tell you the truth, this case has us stumped.”

  Henry stuck his head up and looked around. It almost seemed as if he were actually expecting to witness an invasion.

  Grandma reached over and pushed him back down.

  “Ahh, I’ve heard you say that before, Charlie. And you always seem to figure things out.”

  “Not this time.”

  Grandma unsnapped the strap on her helmet, pulled it
off, and set it in her lap.

  “Honey, you’ve got a gift. You just gotta be patient. Something’ll pop into your head. It always does. Who knows … a minute from now, you might have it all figured out.”

  “Maybe you’re right,” I said, but I really didn’t think so. I turned to leave, then hesitated. I dug into my pocket and pulled out the note that we had found behind the barber shop. “Gram?”

  “Yep?”

  I handed her the note. “What do you make of this? I found it a little while ago behind the barber shop. I don’t know what to think.”

  She studied the gibberish on the note.

  U-P 1-81-13-77-65-5-5 65-45-81-13-41-81

  “To tell you the truth, it looks like some kind of code to me.”

  “A code?” Of course, it was a code. And that was Gram’s specialty in the war. This was perfect. I wondered if she still had the gift. “Can you tell us what it says?”

  She studied it for a minute. “It’s a code for sure—a pretty simple one actually. Nothing like the ones I saw when I was helping out Uncle Sam. All this person did was substitute letters with numbers and vice versa.”

  “You mean like a would be number one, and b would be number two and so on?” Henry said.

  “It’s not that simple,” she said. “Whoever wrote this note assigned letters with numbers, and the other way around, but they added a little twist.” She held up the note for us to see. “There are three words here. The first word is all letters, which means it’s a number. The second and third words are made up of numbers, so those would be letters.”

  It was so neat to watch Gram in her element. I tried to imagine her deciphering an enemy code during the war. I would have loved to have seen her in action.

  “But instead of making the letter a represent a one, and b a two, like Henry said, they’ve changed the pattern between the first word and the next two words,” Gram continued. “The letter k appears to be the number one for both patterns. And then, for the first word, the next letter, l, isn’t a two, it’s a four. So this person added three to every letter that followed. With the next two words, he changed the pattern to a difference of four from one letter to the next.”

  “My head’s spinning, Mrs. Collier. How do you do it?” Henry said.

  “The same way that Charlie solves brainteasers. It’s a gift, I guess.”

  “So, what’s it say, Gram?”

  She seemed to be counting to herself for a few moments, then smiled. “It’s an address. It says Thirty-one … sixteen … Kendall … Avenue. That’s it. Hey, that sounds familiar. Wait a minute, that’s Eugene’s address.”

  “And the barber shop’s,” I said. It was at that moment that I knew we were on to something. This note had to be connected to the bird heist.

  “Hey, that was fun,” Gram said. “Got any more?”

  “That’s it for now,” I said. “But we’ll keep looking.”

  Grandma took a closer look at the note. She rubbed her finger across the words.

  “What are you doing?” Henry said.

  “There’s something funny about this writing,” she said.

  “We’re guessing it’s crayon,” I said.

  She held the note up to her nose and smelled it. “This isn’t crayon … it’s lipstick. And not a very attractive shade, I might add. I wouldn’t be caught dead in this color.” She handed me the paper. “Anything else?” she said.

  “That’s it, I think. Thanks a lot.”

  “Well, I better get back to the firefight.” She placed her helmet back onto her head, picked up the hose, grabbed the nozzle, and smiled. “Don’t worry. You boys’ll figure things out.” A second later the battle had resumed. Water splashed off the garage door in all directions.

  As we made our way back to my room, I was deep in thought about this case. I couldn’t get it out of my head. After talking to Grandma, I felt certain that the note definitely belonged to the perp. But who was he? And where would I find him? Was I any closer to solving this case? I hadn’t accomplished anything. Gram had figured it out. I still wasn’t sure I could pull this off. One piece of evidence had surfaced—that was great—but there were still so many holes. I had no idea what the next move would be.

  I thought about what Gram had said. She was certain that I would figure things out—all on my own—and it could happen any minute. I could only hope she was right. Why did she seem to have more faith in me than I did in myself? I wanted to take her advice. Just be patient, I told myself. Stop trying to force it. Maybe something would just suddenly pop into my head. I had to have confidence in myself. I just needed to—wait a second. I pulled the note from my pocket and stared at—an address—written in lipstick.

  “Wait a second. What’s wrong with me? Duh! If this thing’s written in lipstick, we’re not looking for a villain, we’re looking for a villainess,” I announced.

  “Of course,” Henry said, “the bad guy’s a woman.”

  I smiled. It was another clue. A big one. I was now juiced. “We may just be able to pull this off, partner.”

  Suddenly I was ready for whatever challenge lay before me. I began to believe that I could do this. With Henry by my side, and with Scarlett’s help, and with Eugene waiting in the wings, and, of course, with my ace in the hole—Grandma—there was no stopping this Snoop for Hire now.

  At school on Thursday, Henry and I discussed the case every spare moment we had. I didn’t want to tell Scarlett what we had discovered—not yet at least. I decided to wait until we had turned up more evidence. No need to get her hopes up since all of this was guesswork. We continued discussing the case over lunch. We were always careful never to let anyone overhear us … or so we thought.

  “Remember, we need to concentrate on a female mastermind,” I said.

  “Yeah, I wish we knew her angle in all of this,” Henry said.

  “Hey, what are you guys talkin’ about?” Sherman Doyle asked as he came up to our lunch table.

  How could we have been so careless? This was the last guy we wanted to encounter, let alone include in our conversation.

  “Did I hear you say something about them missing birds?” he said.

  “Maybe. You know something about them?” I asked.

  “Some.”

  “Well, then spill it,” Henry said. “Some creep’s been kidnapping exotic birds, and no one seems to know where they are.”

  “Maybe the guy’s got a good reason for stealin’ ’em,” Sherman said. “Did you ever think about that?”

  “Like what?” I said. I knew Sherman was a loser … but to defend such a dastardly deed … it seemed even beneath this big dope.

  “Just maybe he knows something that you don’t know,” Sherman said, “and that’s why he’s taking ’em.”

  It was just about then that I noticed something strange. Sherman had cuts and scratches all over his hands.

  “What happened?” I asked.

  He pulled down his sleeves and tried to cover them up. “Nothing. Just got into a little fight, that’s all.”

  “I’d hate to see the other guy,” Henry said.

  “Huh? Oh yeah. I tore him to shreds. Hey, can either of you guys break a fifty?” Sherman seemed to want to change the topic. He pulled a fifty-dollar bill from his pocket. “The lunch lady doesn’t like big bills.”

  Henry stared at the cash. “Where’d you get that kind of money?”

  Sherman jammed it back into his pocket. “Oh, just forget it,” he said. And with that, he was off.

  Henry looked at me and shook his head. “What planet is that guy from? Come on. Let’s go.”

  But I couldn’t move. Not yet. For the moment, I was deep in thought. What are the chances, I wondered?

  “You comin’?” Henry said. When I failed to answer, he waved his hand in front of my face. “Hey, what’s up?”

  “I was just thinking.”

  “About what?”

  “About Sherman. And those scratches on his hands.”

  “What
about ’em?” Henry said. “You heard him. He got in a fight. That’s all.”

  “I was thinking about something Scarlett told me earlier … about Socrates … about how he didn’t like strangers … about how he’d chew up anybody who might have tried to kidnap him.”

  “So what are you saying?”

  “Henry, those cuts on Sherman’s hands … He could have gotten them in a fight … but maybe it wasn’t an ordinary fight … maybe he was scuffling with … a bird perhaps? An unfriendly bird? Named Socrates?”

  “Sherman? He’s too dumb to pull something like that off.”

  “Maybe he’s not doing it alone.”

  We hesitated for a moment as Scarlett and her entourage passed by. She looked really good today. She was on her cell phone—as usual. Henry snapped his fingers in my face.

  “Earth to Charlie.”

  “Have you ever noticed—the only time she ever talks to me is when she needs something?” I said.

  “And you just figured that out?”

  I shrugged.

  “Just let it go,” Henry said. “It’s time to get back to work.”

  I knew he was right. It made no sense to wish for something that would never happen. She was simply out of my league. I had always known that. “You’re right. Okay, what were we talking about?”

  “Sherman and the birds.”

  “Oh yeah.”

  “He could be telling the truth, you know, about getting into a fight,” Henry said. “Sherman, if you haven’t noticed, is no stranger to fisticuffs.”

  “Okay. But wait—there’s the cash in his pocket.”

  “I was kind of wondering about that,” Henry said. “Maybe he had a birthday or something.” He thought to himself for a moment. Then his eyes opened wide. “Or … are you thinking what I’m thinking? It’s the payoff for heisting the birds.”

  “Precisely. And did you notice how he defended the kidnapper? Why would he even care about that unless he was somehow involved?”

  “He did, didn’t he?”

  And suddenly I thought about another clue. “Eugene said that when Scarlett’s grandpa was talking to some of the other shopkeepers, one of them said he saw a big kid coming out of one of the stores after hours one night. It all fits.”