The Copycat Caper

by John V. Madormo

  Eugene sat up in his chair. “I like that idea,” he said. “Okay, then, bookstore it is.”

  “Then again,” I said, “it could just as easily be the library. Maybe more so. That place is loaded with books too.” I found myself trying to think like our burglar. If I had decided to steal books as my next crime, where would I go, a bookstore or a library? And then it hit me. Of course. There was only one answer that made sense.

  “I got it,” I said. “There’s a much better chance that he’ll hit the library than a bookstore.”

  “What makes you say that?” Eugene asked.

  I smiled confidently. “If our crook chooses bookie for his little wordplay game and if he turns bookie into book as we’re hoping, what types of books do you think he’d try to steal?”

  “What difference does it make?” Eugene said. “A book is a book.”

  “I don’t think so,” I said. “This guy isn’t just a thief. He’s on a mission. He’s trying to make some sort of statement. He’s not going to grab just any old book.” I waited to see if either Henry or Eugene would figure out where I was headed.

  Henry jumped out of his chair. “He’ll steal Sam Solomon books!”

  “Exactly,” I said.

  Eugene stood up and walked over to the window. “Okay, let’s say you’re right. But why the library? He can just as easily find those in a bookstore.”

  “Eugene, there’s over a hundred books in that series. And if you walk into any bookstore, you’d be lucky to find, at best, no more than a half dozen on the shelves. And a lot of times, you won’t find any. You have to special order them. Trust me, I’ve had to do it.” I paused for effect. “But there is one place where you can find the entire series.”

  Henry smiled. “The library!”

  I nodded. “This guy has it in for Sam Solomon. Why? We’re not sure. But it only makes sense that he’d want to get his hands on as many of those books as possible. And the only way to guarantee that is to head to the library.”

  “I just don’t buy it, Charlie,” Eugene said. “Look at all of the places our suspect has targeted—a Persian rug store, a bakery, a pet shop, and a high-end art gallery. And what do those locations have in common? They’re all commercial establishments. Besides stealing a rug, or a dog, or a painting, or whatever else, our mystery man also jimmied the cash registers. First he stole something as part of his word game, then he also made sure to fill his pockets with some green before he left. It would make no sense to hit the library. How much cash would be on hand? A few bucks from some overdue book fines? In my opinion, we’re not dealing with someone who loves word games, all we’re dealing with is a common thief. He’s just using the game angle to throw us off. It’s got to be the bookstore. It’s the only thing that makes sense.”

  I had to make Eugene see things differently. “I don’t believe he’s a common thief,” I said. “I think just the opposite. I think he’s some misguided soul with a Sam Solomon vendetta. That’s what’s driving him. The money he’s stealing? That’s just an afterthought. And if I’m right, then he can make a much stronger statement by hitting the library, where he’ll find the entire series, than by visiting a bookstore, where there might be a handful of books or maybe none at all.”

  Henry turned to Eugene. “It kinda does make sense.”

  Eugene sat back down at his desk and folded his hands. “Charlie, I hate to overrule you, but I’m afraid I’m going to have to,” he said. “Since we have a manpower shortage, there’s no way we can run multiple surveillance operations. If you kids were available to help out, then maybe we could try watching both bookstores in town as well as the library, but since it’ll be after midnight on a school night, that’s just not possible. I’m sorry.”

  “Is there any chance I can make you see things my way?” I said.

  “I’m afraid not,” he said. “I’m going to have to ask you to defer to me on this one. Decades of experience tells me this is the way to proceed. Can I count on you to support me on this?”

  I nodded . . . reluctantly. I knew that Eugene was the master private detective. He had solved hundreds of cases—maybe thousands—in his career. Not to mention a successful stint with Naval Intelligence. This man was a legend. And as much as I really didn’t want to, I thought it best to accept the fact that Eugene was the expert, and to simply follow his lead. Maybe he would turn out to be right. We’d know soon enough.

  Since it was getting late, Henry and I decided to head home. We knew that we would probably need to meet up with Eugene at least one more time to work out the specifics of the stakeout even though we wouldn’t be part of it. Oak Grove had two bookstores—an independent one that had been operating for years and a larger bookseller that was part of a retail chain. It had only been in town for a few months. I was assuming that Eugene, Gram, and Chicken Bone would find a way to keep an eye on both.

  As we pedaled home, I kept thinking about the fact that no one would be watching the library after the Sam Solomon program aired on Monday night. I understood Eugene’s rationale—the library wasn’t like all of the other crime scenes. I got all of that. But what if Eugene was wrong, then what? Then we will have wasted hours and hours of Mr. Miles’s time, not to mention everyone else who has been, or soon would be, offering assistance. I knew that I should follow Eugene’s advice and forget about this library business. After all, he was the expert . . . the wise old sage. Everything I had learned up until now about this business was telling me to trust the pros—the people who had paid their dues in this industry—and to just follow orders. But I was having a hard time buying in.

  I wasn’t sure how to proceed. So I thought of a time when Sam Solomon was torn between taking the advice of his personal mentor versus doing things his own way. It happened in Episode #65—The Rising Son Caper. Sam had been contacted by his old boss, Amos Poindexter. Amos asked Sam to do him a favor—a favor that Sam felt could produce disastrous consequences. Amos asked him to take on his son, Julius Poindexter, as his new apprentice. Sam had watched Julius grow up and he wasn’t impressed. The young man lacked initiative and confidence and was the last person you’d want to have your back in a dangerous situation. Sam wanted to decline, but it was Amos, who years earlier had taken on a green detective by the name of Sam Solomon and had given him a chance that no one else would. As you might guess, Sam took on young Julius and tried to teach him the ropes of the P.I. business. Julius turned out to be a dud at surveillance work and nearly got his boss killed due to a sloppy performance one night. But in the office, the young man proved to be a wonder at analyzing evidence and converting it into useful data. So, on the one hand, Sam had been right. But on the other hand, so had Amos. Was it possible that Eugene and I were both right? I wasn’t sure . . . and I still had no idea of how I could persuade him to see things my way.

  CHAPTER 19

  The Pair o’ Dice Caper

  On Thursday morning, Henry and I met on the bus. I had to make sure that he was still in my camp. I needed him to support my theory that the library was a bona fide location for a stakeout. He had to help me convince Eugene to add a surveillance team on Monday night. The more I thought about it, the more I was certain that I was right. I had a bad feeling, however, that Eugene might win this one, but I decided that I wouldn’t go down without a fight.

  When we got to school, we found Scarlett on the playground. I told her about our conversation with Eugene. I made it a point to share both hypotheses with her—mine and Eugene’s. I was interested in knowing where she stood. But instead of buying into either one, she just shrugged. It seemed as though she really didn’t have her heart in this case. She still seemed miffed about play practice having been canceled because of it.

  It turned out to be a relatively uneventful day at school. The highlight of the afternoon, as was usually the case, came during the final period—Mrs. Jansen’s science class. She walked into the classroom holding a glass
of water about three-quarters full. She set it down on the front of her desk and then walked over to a small tabletop refrigerator against the wall. She opened it and came out holding a tray of ice cubes. She dug one of the ice cubes out with her fingertips and held it up for all of us to see.

  “Watch me very carefully, class,” she said as she dropped the ice cube into the glass of water. “Now, who can answer this question: when the ice cube has completely melted, will the level of the water have increased, decreased, or remain unchanged?”

  Sherman raised his hand.

  “Yes, Sherman.”

  “Can you at least tell us if this is a trick question or not?” he said.

  She grinned. “No trick here. The answer is predicated on a scientific principle.”

  “That counts me out,” he said dejectedly.

  “Now, Sherman,” she said. “Don’t sell yourself short. We talked about this principle about two months ago. I just wanted to see who remembered it. Think real hard now. You might surprise yourself and come up with it. You can check your notes if you want.”

  The look on Sherman’s face suggested that he had little confidence in himself or in the quality of his note-taking. A moment later, Danny Reardon slowly raised his hand.

  “Danny, what do you think?” Mrs. Jansen said.

  “Well, I can’t remember what principle you’re talking about, but I just think that once the ice cube melts, the water level has to be higher. And I’m not really basing that on anything but a pure guess.”

  Mrs. Jansen picked up the glass and began walking up and down each aisle. “I’m not saying you’re wrong, Danny, but I would like to see someone reference that principle in their answer.” By the time Mrs. Jansen had completed her journey, another minute had passed. “Any final thoughts before I refresh your memory?”

  I knew the answer, but I didn’t recall the name of the principle. I wasn’t sure if I should share my answer since it was incomplete. The decision was soon taken out of my hands.

  “Charlie,” she said, “can you help us out with this one?”

  I rose from my seat. “I know the answer, but I don’t remember the name of the guy you’re looking for.”

  “Well, that’s a start,” she said. “I’ll take whatever you can give me.”

  For some reason the stares seemed a little friendlier than normal. It must have had something to do with the fact that I couldn’t remember the guy’s name. I guess it made me seem more like everyone else.

  “The water level will remain the same,” I said. “And it has something to do with the fact that the ice cube will displace its own weight. I remember something about an immersed object is buoyed up by the weight of the fluid it displaces. And so, in our example, when the ice cube melts, the water in the glass will be the same level that it was after you dropped it in.”

  Mrs. Jansen grinned, but before she could praise me, she was interrupted.

  “Archimedes!” Scarlett yelled out. “I remember it now. It was Archimedes’s principle.”

  “Well done . . . to both of you,” Mrs. Jansen said. “Now that was a real team effort.”

  Did you hear that, Scarlett? I wanted to say—We do make a pretty good team. Maybe we should work together more often. I let out a long sigh. Who was I kidding? Like I would ever have the guts to actually say that out loud. My only hope was to get her more interested in this crime spree case so that we might be able to spend a little time together trying to tackle it.

  After the bell sounded, Henry and I decided to pay a visit to Mr. Miles. We were wondering how he was progressing with the rewrite of his script. When we arrived at his office, the door was closed. We weren’t certain if he was in or not.

  “Maybe we shouldn’t interrupt him,” Henry said.

  “But don’t you want to know what’s going on?” I said. “Suppose he can’t get it done on time. That changes everything, and we’d need to know that.”

  “All right, I guess.” Henry seemed unsure. Just to be safe, he hid behind me. And considering our body types, it was relatively easy for him to disappear that way.

  I knocked lightly. At first we heard nothing. Then there were footsteps, and seconds later, the door flew open.

  “Charlie, what a coincidence,” Mr. Miles said. “I was just thinking about you.”

  “Oh, really?” I said.

  The smile on Mr. Miles’s face suddenly faded. “I was trying to remember why I had agreed to perform this impossible task.” He seemed frustrated. “Killing two-thirds of your story and still have it make sense is torturous.”

  “I’m afraid to ask how it’s coming. Or maybe you’ve already answered the question.”

  “Come on in,” he said. And just as he was about to close the door, he noticed Henry. “You don’t need to hide, Mr. Cunningham. I don’t hold you responsible for this.”

  “Thanks,” Henry said.

  Mr. Miles walked around his desk and plopped down into his chair.

  “Well, what are you waiting for, gentlemen? Sit down.”

  Right at that moment, I was second-guessing my decision to pay Mr. Miles a visit. I knew what we were asking of him, but I wasn’t really expecting him to be angry with us.

  “If this is a bad time,” I said, “we can come back.”

  Mr. Miles seemed to sense our discomfort. He let out a long sigh and smiled.

  “I don’t mean to seem short with you, boys. It’s just that I’m not as young as I used to be, and working on deadline is something I haven’t done for quite some time. But when I get frustrated, as I’ve been the past couple of days, I keep telling myself that it’s for a good cause.”

  “A good cause? Are you kidding?” I said. “Mr. Miles, because of your contribution, you could single-handedly be responsible for catching the Oak Grove serial burglar.”

  “Oh, is that what they’re calling him now?” he asked.

  “No . . . I just came up with that.”

  He sat back in his chair. “So, what can I do for you?”

  Henry chimed in. “We were just wondering if there’s anything we can do for you.” That wasn’t exactly why we were here. But considering Mr. Miles’s state of mind, it was some pretty quick thinking on Henry’s part.

  “If I keep to my schedule,” he said, “we should make it.” He picked up a pad of paper from his desk. “My plan is to finish up the script by sometime tonight. Then I need to run off copies and distribute them to the cast by noon tomorrow. On Saturday at ten A.M., we meet at the studios of WOAK for an all-day recording session. On Sunday morning, we choose music and sound effects. And between Sunday afternoon and Monday evening at eleven P.M., a technician will edit it all together.”

  “About the only thing on that entire list that we’re qualified to do,” I said, “is run off copies of the script for you. Would that help?”

  Mr. Miles reflected momentarily. “That would be great, but you’d have to get here early . . . before school . . . to make copies. Can you do that?”

  “The bus won’t get us here early enough,” Henry said. “But I’m sure one of our parents can drop us off.”

  “Okay, then, it’s a plan,” he said. “Can you be here at about seven thirty?”

  We nodded.

  Mr. Miles got up, walked over to the door, and opened it. “Great. Now off you go. I have work to do.”

  Henry and I sprinted to the bus stop and managed to get there seconds before the bus pulled away. We navigated our way down the aisle and found a seat away from the crowd. I wanted to talk to Henry in private.

  “So you’re gonna back me on this library business, right?” I said.

  “Sure, but I don’t think it’ll do any good. Eugene sounds like he’s made up his mind.”

  “If he refuses to give up on the bookstore idea, then we have to at least get him to agree to add the library as an additiona
l stakeout location,” I said. “Not only do I think that our perp will actually show up there, I have an ulterior motive as well.”

  Henry’s eyes narrowed. “I’m listening.”

  I paused as two kids sat down right behind us. I leaned in closer to Henry. Maybe I was getting paranoid, but I wanted to make sure that we weren’t overheard.

  “If we have any chance of being asked to join the others on Monday night, then there has to be at least one more location to stake out. Eugene, Gram, and Chicken Bone plan to cover the bookstores. But if we can convince them to keep an eye on the library as well, then they’re gonna need another surveillance team—namely us.”

  Henry shook his head. “So that’s what this is all about? This library theory of yours is just an excuse to join the stakeout?”

  “No, no, no,” I said. “I really do believe the suspect will show up there. The only place where you’re absolutely guaranteed to find Sam Solomon books on the shelves is the library.” I lowered my voice. “Henry, it just about killed me not to be on the stakeout last Monday night. I can’t let it happen again. I won’t let it happen again.”

  Our conversation was interrupted when we reached our stops but continued during the bike ride to Eugene’s office. Henry promised to support me, but he wasn’t confident that it would do any good. When we arrived at Eugene’s, we found him on the phone with Mr. Miles. He was trying to determine how his old buddy was coming along with the rewrite. By his reaction, he had apparently gotten the same response we had.

  “Thad, relax. Just relax,” he said. “This thing doesn’t have to be perfect.” Eugene made a face. “Okay, why don’t you call me when it’s done. Good luck.” He hung up the phone and rolled his eyes. “That’s way too much drama for me.” He stood up, stretched, and motioned for us to have a seat. “Kind of surprised to see you guys. I thought we had our plan in place.”

  Not as far as I was concerned. “I was hoping you might reconsider going to the library,” I said.

  “What about the library?” he asked.