I took a deep breath. “We’re almost positive that he’s being held at the boot camp on the edge of town—a place called Camp Phoenix.”
“I’ve heard about it on the news,” she said.
“That’s the one. It’s a place where they rehabilitate teenagers who get into trouble with the law.”
“So what’s stopping you from calling them or just going over there?” she asked. “Either Eugene or I would be glad to take you.”
I sat down on the bed next to her. “I’m afraid it’s not that easy. It’s impossible to get information out of them. They’re not talking. And they won’t let anybody past their front gates. Sherman’s mom even called, and they wouldn’t give her any information either.”
“I have a bad feeling you’re going to tell me that you plan to break in there.”
I stared at the floor. “Not exactly. I’m gonna get myself arrested, and then when their bus comes by the jail to pick up kids, I plan on sneaking in with the others and joining them.”
Gram sighed and made a face. It was clear she wasn’t a big fan of my idea. “Sounds dangerous,” she said. “You sure there’s no other way?”
“I haven’t been able to think of one,” I said.
“Maybe Eugene or I could figure out a way to get into that place.”
“Even if you could, Gram, a couple of strangers—especially adults—would stick out like a sore thumb. But a kid—a kid could blend in with the others and go undetected. Plus, if Josh is there and hiding his identity, there’s more of a chance he’d talk to me. I’m afraid it’s the only way.”
She got up, walked over to the window, and stared out for several seconds. “All right,” she said. “I can’t say I like it, but it’s your case and I’ll support you. Go ahead and follow through on your plan, and I’ll cover for you. But there’s one thing I want you to do.”
“Name it,” I said.
“I want you to have some way of contacting either Eugene or me if you get in over your head. Can you promise me that?”
I wasn’t sure exactly how I could make that happen, but I knew that I had to agree to it or Gram would never sign off on our deal.
“I promise. I’ll just borrow a cell phone from one of my friends.”
“Okay,” she said. “Be careful.” She kissed me on the forehead and went back downstairs.
On occasion I’ve been known to have told my parents a white lie while in the process of solving a case. I didn’t like doing it, but I always felt an obligation to the client, and that helped me justify my actions. But I really didn’t like the idea of lying to my grandmother. She had been an ally for as long as I could remember. I didn’t want to betray her confidence. Somehow I had to keep the promise that I had made—even if it meant asking a favor of someone who would probably rather die than grant me this particular request.
CHAPTER 15
The Bizarre Bazaar Caper
When I arrived at the police station, Henry and Scarlett were waiting for me. They had their game faces on. It was apparent that they had sensed the gravity of the situation.
“I was afraid you weren’t gonna show,” Henry said.
“No. Just ran into a little complication. That’s all,” I said.
“What sort of complication?” Scarlett asked.
I shuffled my feet for a moment. I knew that both Henry and Scarlett would be unhappy to hear that I had told someone else about our plans. But what was I supposed to do? They needed to know.
“I…er…had to tell somebody about my plan to get arrested.”
“You told someone?” Henry said. “Who?”
“My grandmother.”
“And she’s still letting you do it?” Scarlett said.
“Well, she wasn’t too happy about it,” I said. “But she agreed to let me go through with it on one condition.” I pointed to a park bench across the street from the police station. “Let’s talk about it over there,” I said. We made our way to a wooden bench with peeling paint and sat down.
“So what’s the catch?” Scarlett said.
“She told me that I couldn’t go unless I had a way of communicating with either her or Eugene at all times. She’s worried that something might go wrong.”
“What’d you tell her?” Henry said.
“I said okay. What else could I say?”
“What are you gonna do now?” Scarlett asked.
I glanced down at the cell phone that Scarlett held tightly in her hand.
She immediately jumped off the bench. She pressed her phone against her heart.
“Don’t even think about it. There is no way you’re using my phone.”
It was the reaction I had expected. But Scarlett was my only hope. There was no one else I could ask.
Henry smiled. “I can’t believe that Charlie Collier, Snoop for Hire, a student of the great Sam Solomon, would ever consider using a cell phone. I need to write this down.”
“Well, he’s not getting mine,” Scarlett said emphatically.
“It would only be for a day or two,” I said.
Scarlett was beside herself. Her face reddened. Her body tightened. She could barely speak.
“You’re not serious?” she shrieked.
Henry leaned against the back of the bench and grinned. “Sure seems like the kind of thing that one associate would do for another,” he said.
Scarlett was speechless.
“If you want to be part of the agency,” Henry said, “then I’m afraid you’re gonna have to part with your little friend there. That’s all there is to it.”
Scarlett plopped back down on the bench and folded her arms tightly. “You never told me I’d be asked to make sacrifices like this,” she said.
I sat down next to her. “Listen, I’ll be real careful with it. I promise.”
She closed her eyes and held out her hand. She had yet to release her death grip on the phone. A moment later, her fingers relaxed and I was able to slowly pry it from her hands.
“Charlie Collier, if I find as much as a smudge on that phone, you’re buying me a new one. Do you understand?”
“Don’t worry,” I said.
“And it’s only to be used for emergencies,” she said.
“Absolutely.”
“And don’t go poking your nose into anything on the phone—names, numbers, notes, pictures, anything. You got it?”
“Scarlett, I’ll just use it to call my grandmother or Eugene if I get into trouble. You can trust me.”
She let out a long sigh.
I stared at the phone in my hand. I couldn’t believe she had let me have it. This was one for the ages. I glanced at Scarlett. Right at that moment she seemed incomplete. It was if she had lost an appendage or something.
“What are you looking at?” she snarled.
“Nothing.”
“Well, don’t just stand there,” she said. “Aren’t you gonna go break the law or something?”
I slipped the phone into my pocket and nodded. I set my backpack on the bench and unzipped it. I reached in and pulled out a long tray of paints that I had found in the basement with my other art supplies.
“What’s that for?” Henry said.
“You’ll see,” I said. I slid the backpack over to Henry. “Can you keep an eye on this?”
“I guess so.” He zipped the backpack closed and set it in his lap. “You’re really gonna do this, huh?”
“Yep. Wish me luck,” I said. I checked for traffic and then jogged across the street. Parked directly in front of the police station was one of their squad cars. It read Oak Grove Police on the side. I sat down on the sidewalk next to the car and opened up my tray of paints. There were twelve colors to choose from. I proceeded to spit into what was left of the black paint. I worked it in with my finger until it was nice and moist. Then I took the brush, still good and hard, dipped it into the black paint, and stopped. Wait a minute, I hadn’t thought about the words that I planned to paint on the side of the car. After a few moments, I
had it. I decided to make the kind of statement that Josh might make.
By that time, Henry and Scarlett had crossed the street and were hiding behind a tree a few feet away. They apparently wanted to witness the criminal act in person.
I took a deep breath and got to work. I painted Save the and hesitated. I wanted to choose something that people naturally would want to save, but I also wanted to be original. I thought for a moment—and then I had it. I added the last word and then leaned back to admire my handiwork. Now all I had to do was wait to get caught. Fortunately, it didn’t take long. A minute or so later, I heard the front door of the police station open.
“Hey, what are you doing over there?” a voice called out.
Just for effect, I decided to give my artwork a second coat. I could hear footsteps behind me. And as I was about to paint over the t in the, someone reached in and grabbed the paintbrush from my hand.
“You got a lot of nerve, kid,” a uniformed officer said. “Defacing police property—in front of a police station. It’s almost as if you wanted to get caught.” He took a close look at the side of the car and scratched his head. “Save the eels?”
At least it was original. I rose from a crouched position and turned to face my accuser. I put my wrists together and extended them outward. I was waiting to be handcuffed and hauled away.
“Do your duty, Officer,” I said.
The policeman shook his head. He bent over, picked up the tray of paints, and pointed at the front door of the station.
“Follow me,” he said. “Let’s go call your parents.”
What was the meaning of this? I was a desperate criminal. No handcuffs? No pepper spray? No whacks with a baton? No stun gun? What kind of law enforcement was this anyway? I demanded to be treated like the criminal I was.
I winked at Henry and Scarlett as I followed the officer into the station. We walked down a narrow hallway and entered a small cubicle. He pointed at a folding chair next to his desk. I sat down and stared forward.
The officer dropped into his chair, opened a side desk drawer, and pulled out a piece of paper with writing on it.
“Name,” he said.
I locked my jaw. There was no way I would divulge my name. I didn’t want a criminal record to ruin my chances for a P.I. license someday.
“Oh, so that’s how it’s going to be, huh?” the officer said. “I don’t suppose you’re going to give me your address or phone number either, are you?”
I avoided eye contact.
The officer sat back in his chair and sighed. “Well, I hope you realize what kind of trouble you’re in, son. Do you have any idea what it’s gonna cost to get paint off that car?”
Now, I had told myself earlier that under no circumstances would I utter a word while in police custody. But he was all wrong about that paint. Someone had to set him straight.
“It won’t cost anything,” I said.
“Oh, so you can talk,” he said. “Well, just how do you figure that?”
“Look at the paints. They’re watercolors. They’ll come off with a wet rag.”
The officer sat up and examined the paints. He looked in the direction of the hallway.
“Hey, rookie, get in here.”
A moment later a young officer in uniform appeared.
“Get some wet paper towels from the washroom and see if you can get the paint off the side of the squad car parked out in front.”
The rookie nodded and disappeared.
The first officer appeared confused. “I don’t get it. Why would you use watercolors to make some sort of political statement?” He leaned forward. “That was some kind of political statement, wasn’t it?”
“Sort of, I guess.”
“So, what exactly are you trying to accomplish?”
I thought for a minute. “You see, I just wanted to get people’s attention about this cause, but I didn’t want to vandalize anything. It didn’t seem right.”
“I like the way you think,” he said. “By the way, is somebody killing off all the eels? I never read anything about that.”
Before I could respond, the rookie officer reappeared. Since I had no answer on the plight of the eel, his timing couldn’t have been better.
“Well?” the veteran cop said to his young assistant.
“It came right off, sir,” the rookie said. “It’s like it was never there.”
“Thanks,” he said, and waved off the rookie. He looked at me and smiled. He then picked up the piece of paper on his desk, crumpled it up, and tossed it into a nearby wastebasket. “Why don’t we say this never happened?”
What? How could this be? He was supposed to throw the book at me. He couldn’t just let me go.
“Listen, Officer,” I said, “if you want to throw me in the clink for a couple of hours to teach me a lesson, I’d be perfectly fine with that.”
“The clink?” He chuckled, stood up, and motioned for me to stand. “You look like a good kid,” he said. “You’re just a little misguided, that’s all.” He leaned into the hallway and pointed to the front door. “Can I give you a little advice?”
I nodded.
“Why don’t you stop by the drugstore, pick up some poster board, and make up a sign about the eels? Then stand on a street corner and share your views with the public. It’s all perfectly legal.”
“But—”
He gave me a little shove in the direction of the front door. “Get out of here. I have work to do,” he said.
When I stepped out onto the front steps of the police station, I noticed that Henry and Scarlett were perched on the park bench across the street. They jumped up when they saw me. Tail between my legs, I dropped my head and moved slowly in their direction.
“What happened?” Henry said.
“They let me go,” I said.
Showing little to no interest in the story of my release, Scarlett held out her hand, palm up.
“My phone. Now,” she demanded.
I reached into my pocket and returned her prized possession.
“I told you it was a bad idea,” she said.
“It was a good idea,” I said. “I just did it badly.”
“So now what?” Henry said. “Do we think up another crime for you to commit or figure out a different way to get you into that boot camp?”
“I don’t know,” I said. “If I could only have hung around in there long enough, I might have been able to sneak on the Camp Phoenix bus when it came.”
“Well, you didn’t,” Scarlett said as she slipped the phone into her back jeans pocket. “I don’t know about either of you, but I’ve had enough excitement for one day.” She turned and left.
“I guess I’d better get going too,” Henry said. “We’ll touch base tomorrow. Don’t worry, partner, we’ll think of something.” Henry had traveled less than thirty yards when he spun around. “Hey, Charlie, what are you gonna tell your parents about the camping trip? Won’t they wonder why you’re back so soon?”
I had completely forgotten about the camping trip scenario. “I’ll just tell them it got canceled. Don’t worry,” I said. “Go ahead. I’ll call you tomorrow.”
With that, Henry waved and was off.
I sat down on the park bench to lick my wounds. Today had been a complete bust. I was starting to wonder if my next plan—whatever that might be—would blow up in my face as well. What I needed right now was a confidence boost. I needed to remind myself that sometimes things don’t go as planned. It could happen to anyone. Even the best private detectives on the planet had bad days, right? Even Sam Solomon had failures. Like in Episode #33—The Bizarre Bazaar Caper.
Sam had been hired by wealthy socialite Eunice Peppernell to track down the disappearance of several thousand dollars. Each year Eunice held a charity bazaar for starving artists. Local merchants were invited to sell their wares at the event, with fifty percent of the proceeds going to charity. It had always been a wildly successful affair, but the amount raised this year was rather disapp
ointing. During his investigation, an informant revealed to Sam that the merchants had been forced to pay protection money to a local strongman and therefore were unable to contribute to the charity. The P.I. decided to go public with his information, and just when he was about to produce the witness who would corroborate his findings, his source vanished. Sam no longer had the proof he needed. He had jumped the gun, and worse, he had failed his client. Mrs. Peppernell was just about to remove him from the case and hire another private eye when Sam was finally able to track down the missing snitch and redeem himself.
So there—Sam had failed—just like I had. But then he rebounded nicely—just like I would. At least I hoped it would turn out that way.
I spent the next half hour on the bench in deep thought. Somehow I had to figure out another way to get into that boot camp. It wasn’t going to be easy. I was guessing that the place was well guarded and probably had a secure perimeter. Breaking in would not be an option. I managed to come up with a few new ideas, but then just as quickly as they popped into my head, I dismissed them for one reason or another. This wasn’t going well. When I had exhausted nearly every plan of attack, I decided that I needed a change of scenery. Maybe new surroundings would jog something in me.
I threw my backpack over my shoulder and had prepared to leave when I heard the sound of a motor in the distance. Roaring down the street and coming to an abrupt stop in front of the police station was the Camp Phoenix bus. Oh, great. Now I felt even worse. Had I successfully managed to have gotten myself arrested, I would have been a passenger on that bus. But it wasn’t to be. I waited around for a few minutes, and then right on cue, a parade of teenage boys marched out the front door of the station. If I just could have convinced that officer to let me spend even an hour in the big house, then I’d be one step closer to finding Josh. It just wasn’t fair. I had concocted a perfect strategy that…Wait a minute. Wait just a minute. Maybe it wasn’t too late after all. Maybe I could still pull this off. All I had to do was casually blend in to the line of kids. I could do it. I would do it.
And then I thought about the deal I had made with my grandmother. I had given her my word that I wouldn’t proceed unless I had some way of communicating with her. I couldn’t just ignore that. How could I get my hands on another cell phone in time? But I had also given my word to Sherman. Was my obligation to the client stronger than my allegiance to my own family? I wasn’t sure. But I knew one thing for certain—there was no time to debate the issue. It was now or never. I immediately thought about what Sam Solomon might do in this situation, and I had my answer.
The Camp Phoenix Caper Page 14
