Philip and the Thief (9781619500648)

by Paulits, John (COR)

  Philip and the Thief

  by

  John Paulits

  All rights reserved

  Copyright © April 24, 2012, John Paulits

  Cover Art Copyright © 2102, Charlotte Holley

  Gypsy Shadow Publishing, LLC

  Lockhart, TX

  www.gypsyshadow.com

  Names, characters and incidents depicted in this book are products of the author’s imagination, or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental and beyond the intent of the author or the publisher.

  No part of this book may be reproduced or shared by any electronic or mechanical means, including but not limited to printing, file sharing, and email, without prior written permission from Gypsy Shadow Publishing, LLC.

  Smashwords Edition, License Notes

  This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This eBook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  ISBN: 978-1-61950-064-8

  Published in the United States of America

  First eBook Edition: April, 2012

  DEDICATION

  To My Former Students at P. S. 1 and P. S. 124

  ~~~~~~~~~~~~~

  Chapter One

  “Philip the Great,” shouted Philip Felton as he bounced noisily down the stairs from his bedroom to the living room, purple Jolly Rancher in hand.

  “Philip, you’re so humble,” said his father, looking up from the sofa, where he lay reading the Saturday newspaper.

  “Philip, don’t talk like that,” said his mother as she passed through the living room, carrying Philip’s little sister Becky on her way upstairs. “It sounds very impolite. If anybody heard you . . . and candy again?”

  His mother’s voice trailed away as Philip watched her climb the steps. He walked over to his father. “That’s not what I meant. I didn’t mean great like better than everybody, Dad.”

  “Well, you are great, Flipper. Even if your tongue is purple.” He reached over and messed Philip’s hair.

  “I meant like Nate the Great,” said Philip. “He solves the neighborhood’s mysteries. You read me a couple of the books.”

  “I know Nate the Great well,” said Mr. Felton. “He’s a fine boy. Since you’re using his name, you better have solved a mystery or two to back it up.”

  “I did!” exclaimed Philip. “Remember last night when Emery came over?”

  Emery Wyatt was Philip’s best friend, except for when they argued. He sat across from Philip in Mr. Ware’s fourth grade class at the Donovan Elementary School.

  “I remember. Take the candy out of your mouth when you talk.”

  Philip removed the Jolly Rancher and said, “We were upstairs in my room. I gave him a candy bar, a Snickers. He only ate half of it.”

  “A half of a candy bar went uneaten?” said Mr. Felton. “That’s a mystery right there. I thought you guys didn’t stop until you devoured every candy bar in sight.”

  “He might have been filled up from the two Milky Ways and the Baby Ruth he already ate.”

  “Ah, I see. Mystery solved.”

  “That’s not the mystery, Dad. I woke up this morning and remembered the half a candy bar, but I couldn’t remember what Emery did with it. I knew he didn’t eat it.”

  “Go on.”

  “He didn’t take it home, either,” said Philip, “because I remembered his hands were empty when he left. Then I saw a brown fingerprint on my wall, and it had to be a chocolate fingerprint of Emery’s.”

  “Why Emery’s fingerprint and not yours? And clean the wall before your mother sees it.”

  “I will,” said Philip. “Emery’s because I gave Emery the soft candy bars and he got all chocolaty. I ate the hard ones.”

  “Very cunning of you. Then you could tell your mom Emery made the mess, not you.”

  “Dad, stop. I found the fingerprint on the wall next to my bureau. I looked around, but I didn’t see the candy bar anywhere. Only my three Nate the Great books were on top of the bureau. I read them again after Emery went home and left them there. Threw them there, actually. Since I threw the books on top of the bureau, I figured maybe the books knocked the candy bar behind the bureau and when I looked, I saw the candy bar stuck halfway down.”

  “So where is the evidence now?” Mr. Felton asked.

  “I ate it.”

  “You ate the evidence?”

  “After I washed a little dust off it,” said Philip.

  “Sounds kind of gross to me,” said Mr. Felton, making an ick face.

  “I couldn’t waste a whole half a candy bar, Dad. I said I washed it before I ate it.”

  Philip’s father smiled. “And you owe your success to teamwork between you and Nate the Great.”

  “What teamwork?”

  “Nate’s inspiration and your careless aim.”

  The doorbell rang and Philip ran to get it. When he opened the door, Emery walked in.

  “Emery, hello,” said Philip’s father. “We were just talking about you.”

  “I lost my Superball,” Emery moaned dejectedly. “And I had to pester for it, too. My mother said I pestered her so much she only bought it to keep me quiet. Now I can’t even find it.”

  Philip and his father looked at each other. Another mystery!

  “Emery,” said Mr. Felton, “I have good news for you. Philip the Great will help you find your missing ball.”

  “Who’s Philip the Great?” Emery asked.

  “Me, Emery. Me.”

  “What makes you so great?”

  “Explain it to him, Philip,” said Mr. Felton. “I have to go. Good luck finding your ball, Emery. See you later.”

  “My dad’s joking. I solved a mystery the way Nate the Great does, so that makes me Philip the Great.”

  “Find my Superball,” said Emery sadly, “and I’ll feel like Emery the Great.”

  “Let’s go over your house,” said Philip. “Tell me what happened and maybe I’ll be able to find a clue.”

  “I hope so.” And the boys left.

  Chapter Two

  As the two boys crossed the street to Emery’s house, Emery said, “I only got the Superball yesterday. It bounces like crazy.” Emery began to get excited. “I threw it down hard as I could. You should have seen it fly all over the living room almost faster than the eye can see. It took me awhile to find it a couple of times after it finally settled down. My mother told me to stop, though. The babies. I don’t know why they have to sleep so much.” Emery had two little sisters. “Anyway, I put the ball down and this morning I couldn’t find it.”

  They arrived at Emery’s house and went inside. Emery went straight to the TV and turned it on. He and Philip sat on the sofa.

  Philip frowned. “You still got this same TV? The last time we watched cartoons on it, the trees were blue. Look, the picture’s all jiggly. I thought you were getting a new one; the flat kind.”

  “My father keeps promising, but he never does. I told him a million times. Forget about the TV and think about my ball.”

  “Where’d you put it down?” Philip asked.

  “In the kitchen.”

  “Did you ask your mother about it?”

  “No,” said Emery. “I’m afraid she’ll say she threw it away.”

  “I’ll go ask,” said Philip. “Fix the TV.
”

  Emery got up as Philip left and went to the TV where the picture rolled and flickered.

  Philip found Emery’s mother in the kitchen and greeted her. “Hello, Mrs. Wyatt.”

  “Good morning, Philip. How are you?”

  “Fine,” said Philip. “I’m helping Emery find his Superball. Did you see it?”

  Mrs. Wyatt bent down to put some dishes into the dishwasher. “Yes, I saw it last night. He left it in the kitchen.”

  “That’s what he said,” said Philip. “Now he can’t find it. Do you know what happened to it?” If Emery’s mother threw the ball away, Philip hoped he wouldn’t have to be the one to break the news to his friend.

  “Over there on the counter,” said Mrs. Wyatt.

  “It isn’t here,” he said.

  Mrs. Wyatt turned to Philip. “No? Oh, I remember picking it up from there.”

  “What did you do with it after you picked it up?” Philip spoke calmly, like he thought a good detective should.

  “What did I do with it?” Mrs. Wyatt asked herself softly. “I went into the living room . . . I don’t remember. Tell Emery when he finds it not to be bouncing it all over the house. He’ll break something and wake up his sisters.” She turned back to the dishwasher.

  Philip returned to the living room to report back to Emery. “Your mother said she picked it up and brought it into the living room.”

  “I looked all over the living room,” Emery said in exasperation. “It’s not in the living room. Oh, it’s probably lost forever,” he said glumly. “I’ll look again.” He got down on his hands and knees and began searching under things. Philip helped him, but neither one could find the ball. They sat back on the sofa to think.

  “Why didn’t you fix the TV?” asked Philip. “We could watch while we think.”

  “I tried fixing it,” Emery snapped. “It won’t fix.”

  Philip walked over to the TV. He pushed every button he could find, but the picture continued to dance and twist.

  Philip wiggled his nose and bent over the TV. “Come here, Emery.”

  Emery joined him.

  “Take a sniff,” said Philip.

  Emery sniffed. “Something smells funny.”

  The two boys circled the TV sniffing like two dogs searching for a lost bone. Finally, Philip bent over the back of the TV and gave a long sniff.

  “Yuck! It’s in here, the smell. Go on, smell.”

  Emery checked. “Eesshh. Smells like something’s burning. Now we’ll really need to get a new TV.”

  Philip looked at Emery. “No, I don’t think so. I know where your Superball is.” He pointed at the back of the TV.

  “In the TV?” said Emery. “It’s in the TV? How could it get inside the TV?”

  “I’ll bet your mother put it down on top of the TV and it rolled into this hole.”

  A space gaped where the top of the TV met the back; a space large enough for a Superball to drop through.

  “I better tell my mother,” said Emery and he ran into the kitchen.

  Fifteen minutes later Emery’s father had taken the back off the TV and extracted the Superball.

  Emery rubbed at a black mark on it. “It got burned a little,” he said as his mother and father engaged in a lively discussion over which one of them had put the ball on the TV in the first place.

  “Let’s go outside,” said Philip as Emery’s parents talked louder and louder.

  “Let me see the ball,” Philip said when he and Emery sat down on the front step. He rubbed at the black spot. “It should still bounce all right.” He threw the ball down and sure enough, it flew into the air at a crazy angle.

  “Watch it,” called Emery, and he and Philip jumped up to follow the ball.

  Emery picked it up from the grass and smiled. “It works great. Hey, you are a good detective.”

  Philip had a sudden thought. “Emery, why don’t we start a detective agency?”

  Emery stopped smiling. “A detective agency? What do I have to do?”

  “You help me solve crimes. What else?”

  “Like I helped find my ball?”

  “You didn’t help find your ball. I found it.”

  “You wouldn’t have found it if I didn’t turn on the television.”

  “Anybody could turn on a television.”

  “Yeah, but I did. So we found the ball.”

  Philip knew he had found the ball alone, by himself, without Emery’s help, but he figured arguing with his partner was a poor way to begin his new detective agency.

  “Yeah, right. We found the ball. So you want to start a detective agency?”

  “Sure,” said Emery. “I’m really good at finding things.”

  Philip bit his tongue and didn’t respond. “Put the ball in your pocket. Let’s go to my house and talk things over. It’s quieter there.”

  “Okay,” said Emery and he slipped the ball into his pocket as the boys headed off.

  Chapter Three

  When Philip and Emery reached Philip’s house, they talked over what they needed to do.

  “We’ve got to let people know we’re detectives,” said Emery. “Otherwise, they won’t ask us to solve their mysteries.”

  Philip frowned at Emery. “I know we do, but how?”

  “On TV they rent an office,” said Emery.

  For a moment, Philip wondered whether he’d picked the right partner for his detective agency. “Rent an office? You think we should rent an office?”

  “They do on TV,” Emery said with a shrug. “We could put a big sign in the window.” Emery spread his arms to show how big the sign should be.

  “I don’t know if my Mom’d like a big sign in the window,” Philip said with uncertainty.

  “Why would she care?”

  “Why would she care? It’s her house.”

  “Her house is our office?”

  “What office? What are you talking about?” Philip’s voice began to rise, as it often did in discussions with Emery.

  “The sign. We put the sign in the office window.”

  “What office window?” Philip cried.

  “Our office window.”

  “We don’t have an office. We don’t need an office to have a sign, do we?”

  “No, but that’s why we should get one.”

  “Signs are easy to get.”

  “No, I mean get an office,” Emery insisted.

  “Don’t offices cost money?” said Philip. “You know they do. And you know how much money we have. None.”

  “After we get money from our first case, then we can get an office.” Emery thought things over a moment. “But we won’t get a case if we don’t have an office. Hmmm. It’s like the chicken and egg thing you asked me about. Remember? Which came first; the chicken. . . .”

  “Don’t start with chickens and eggs again. Please. Look, we can’t get an office and my mother won’t want a sign in her window, so we’ll have to think of something else.”

  Philip’s father walked into the living room.

  “Dad,” said Philip. “Emery and I want people to know we started a detective agency. I . . .” Philip glanced at Emery. “. . . we just solved another mystery at Emery’s house.”

  “What mystery?” Philip’s father asked.

  “I lost my Superball, Mr. Felton. Philip and I tracked it down. We asked questions and followed clues.”

  “Congratulations, fellows.” Mr. Felton pursed his lips and looked thoughtful. “Why don’t you advertise?”

  Philip and Emery glanced at each other.

  “Advertise?” said Philip. “How?”

  “Print flyers. Tell people the name of your detective agency. Give them your phone number. Tell them you’re available to solve all kinds of crimes. Murders, bank robberies, kidnappings. The usual things.”

  Emery looked uncertain. “Murders?”

  “He’s kidding, Emery,” said Philip wearily.

  “Only kidding, Emery,” said Mr. Felton. “You guys can specializ
e in little mysteries. Sit down and draw what you think your advertisement should look like. I’ll get it copied and you can give it out.”

  An hour later, both boys went to Mr. Felton and handed him their separate ideas.

  Mr. Felton studied them. He scratched his chin and looked at the two expectant faces.

  “There seems to be a small problem with the name of the agency,” he said.

  He turned Philip’s paper toward them. It read, PHILIP’S AND EMERY’S DETECTIVE AGENCY. Then he turned Emery’s paper toward them. It read, EMERY’S AND PHILIP’S DETECTIVE AGENCY.

  “Why does your name get to go first?” asked Philip. “I gave us the idea.”

  “First name ABC order,” said Emery. “Emery-Philip.”

  “Last name ABC order,” said Philip. “Felton-Wyatt.”

  “Wait, wait, wait,” said Mr. Felton. “I have an idea.” He turned one of the papers over and wrote. Both boys looked over his shoulder and smiled. Mr. Felton lifted the completed paper and showed it to the boys. He’d written the boys’ names in a circle. Philip’s name started at the bottom of the circle and curled around the left side of the paper to finish at the top. Emery’s name began at the top and curled to the right to finish at the bottom. Mr. Felton had printed the words DETECTIVE AGENCY in the circle formed by the curling names.

  “Nobody first, nobody second,” said Mr. Felton. “Everybody happy. Now, I’ll draw an eye above the word DETECTIVE to show you’re both Private Eyes. Eye stands for I, which stands for Investigator, by the way.” He drew the eye. When he finished, Mrs. Felton entered the living room. “The boys are starting a detective agency,” Mr. Felton reported.

  “Good,” Philip’s mother said. “The next time Philip makes me lose my marbles, he and Emery can go and find them for me.” She continued upstairs.

  “Your mother plays marbles?” said Emery.