Robert grinned. “Another day with the geniuses! I love my new job. I’m sponging up the mechanical know-how.”
Macey stretched his arms up. Let out a throaty groan. “Well, just another day of ordinary mayhem for me.”
“Yeah, how’s it going?” I asked. “Officer Runkle told us a bike thief hit the impound lot.”
Macey smacked the workbench with the heel of his hand. “Makes us look like such chumps!” His face turned red under his white-blond hair. “So help me, I’m going to be the one who breaks that case.”
“I took it as a warning,” I said. “I’m pulling all the bikes here inside.” That’d be a hard thing to explain to a customer, I thought. “So many repairs. Speaking of which…”
“Yeah, we’d better get to it, hey, Boss Man?” Robert said.
“Better,” I agreed.
Macey squared up the stack of bills for Centertown Cycle in his hands. I thought about the long trip he’d taken up there.
“Thanks,” I told him. “Thanks for everything.”
Later, it felt good to watch Mr. Gilmartin ride off “into the sunset, never to be seen again,” I whispered to Robert. I swept my hands after my favorite customer, who was well out of the driveway now. “Good riddance!” I added.
Robert laughed and then said, “You’re really good at this. You’re good with the business of the bikes. That can be even harder than repairing them.”
“Well, thanks,” I said. It was a good moment for the temporary manager of the Marriss Bike Barn.
29
“OKAY, THAT’S IT!” ANGUS TOLD US. HE AND EVA came jumping down the loft stairs into the bike shop. “Lil said that’s the last time we can go up and in. She’s ready to spray it now.”
“And we can’t get sprayed,” Eva added.
Timing is everything. We heard the compressor fire up.
“Thar she blows!” Robert said, and he laughed out loud.
“Yep, you need to stay out of her way,” I told the twins. I raised my voice and growled at them. “That means you’re with me! RO-AR-r-r-r!”
“Wait, wait! Dewey, Lil said to ask you if you can make the hay door stay shut while she’s spraying it,” Eva said. “Because the hooking thing broke and we can’t shut it.”
“The latch?”
Eva looked at me. “It’s just off.” She shrugged. “I think it’s lost now.”
I went up to have a look for myself. Some of the hardware had been knocked clean away. I had to wonder when it’d happened. It would have to be replaced, and I knew I could find a new latch set in the kitchen drawer. Dad kept that sort of stuff around, what with our many fences, gates, and doors. I didn’t want to make a trip to the house just then. So I did a makeshift thing with some bailing twine through the old eye screws and just tied it shut.
“Is it okay?” Eva asked.
“It’s o-kay!” I growled, and I carried her down the stairs like a sack of potatoes.
For the next hour or so Eva sat on the workbench getting into everything and asking a hundred questions, especially if this or that part could go on the new bike I would someday build her. Angus sort of ran in and out of the paddock for no particular reason. Eventually Eva began to sing “The Song That Gets on Everybody’s Nerves.” Then Angus nearly took out Robert as he was wheeling a job up to the front, which Robert was nice about, of course. But when Eva knocked over the grease bath with her foot, that’s when I said, “Okay! We’re going outside!”
Eva gave me a pout as I mopped up the mess with a rag.
“Let’s go see what Lil’s doing,” I said, trying to keep it cheery. “Vince! Robert. Come on. Everybody, let’s take a breather.”
Lil was pretty focused. She was up on the scaffold, mask over her face, bandanna on her head. She used the sprayer and swept greasy blue paint over her paper flying figures. She’d made her way almost all the way across the very top section. Still a lot of spraying to go, I thought.
“What a project,” Robert said near my ear.
“I think the sun will set before she’s done,” I said.
“That one is me,” Angus shouted over the hum of the compressor. He pointed to one of the shapes. “And underneath there is lots of painting. And when the blue paint dries, Lil’s going to peel away the paper.”
“Oh, I get it,” said Robert.
Lil stopped. Time to move the scaffold a foot or two. She pulled down her mask and grinned. She shut off the compressor and swung down to the ground. “I didn’t even know you guys were here,” she said. “Everything okay?”
“Yep,” I said. I stepped up, and she let me help her move the scaffold.
“Good. Dewey, Vince, can you guys cook some pasta for dinner, but don’t wait for me, okay? I’m kind of rushing to finish spraying. This needs a day to dry and they say rain is coming. Maybe tomorrow night.”
“Rain! Who remembers rain?” said Vince. It had been a long time.
We didn’t have much choice but to wrap things up early in the Bike Barn, what with Angus and Eva in our full care. They were underfoot as I sent a few more bikes home. I skipped sorting the orders for the next day.
“Hey, Robert, pretty safe night to hang for supper,” I said.
“You mean because your sister doesn’t like me and she won’t be around anyway?” He laughed.
“She doesn’t not like you,” I said. “Lil’s just—”
“She has a lot on her shoulders,” Robert said.
“Yeah.”
“And she doesn’t like you,” Vince said with a twisted grin.
We went in to the garden laughing. The twins had spent more time there recently than Vince and I had. They knew where to find the ripe stuff, even under a wicked growth of weeds. Vince took a handful of wild carrots and said, “I’m going out to challenge the goat.” That meant that he was going to try to distract Sprocket long enough with the carrots that he might get the old goat’s shelter mucked.
“Don’t get butted,” Angus warned.
We went ahead with dinner without Lil, like she’d said. Afterward, Robert helped the twins with the dishes and I searched through the kitchen drawer and found a latch set for the hay door. I’d get to it later. Lil didn’t realize it, but right now she was serving guard up there on her scaffold. No way was the Spive going to slither up to the hay door with Lilly Marriss standing in his path. With a paint gun, I thought, and it made me laugh—just to myself. I swept the floor and took the recycling down to the basement. Vince and Robert turned on the TV to catch the news.
“Man, all this footage of highway traffic,” Robert mumbled. “It makes me think it’s happening now and they are about to tell us the shortage is over.”
“Yeah,” said Vince. “Those are old-time movies.”
I took the call from Mom and Dad that night. I was glad to hear from them, but in truth, their calls had become kind of same-old, same-old. They were still stuck and we were still here. We’d stopped talking about the thing we all wanted, the thing that wouldn’t come: fuel.
I talked shop with Dad and told him about having Robert work for us. That was news, but of course I couldn’t tell him the story of Gilmartin’s derailleur disappearing, and how Macey had rescued me on that one. I wanted to keep Dad and everyone believing that I was handling the Bike Barn just fine. It wasn’t my fault that we lived next door to a thief.
Mom and Dad were sorry not to speak to Lil, but they were happy that she was out there pushing along on the art thing. “She needs that,” Mom said. “It’ll be exciting to come home and see what she’s done. But it’s also crazy to think that we’ve missed so much.”
I gave the phone to the twins. I noticed that even they had less to say. I think it must have been Mom’s idea to sing with them, and I heard, “Flap your wings to the left, flap your wings to the right, but wait little bird, you’re not ready for flight…”
It was after dark when Lil practically tumbled in the door. “I finished!” she said. She slumped into a chair at the table.
&
nbsp; “How could you see?” I asked.
“Pfft! Well, I adjusted. But I almost didn’t have to see! I was basically spraying the entire side of the barn. So, as long as I could find that…the details are all underneath the paper.”
“Did you do the peel-the-paper part?” Eva asked.
“No! And it’s killing me! I can’t wait!” She grinned and clapped her palms against Eva’s. “But not until tomorrow or the next day, when the blue paint is dry,” Lil said. Then she noticed Robert, who’d fallen asleep on the living-room floor. Eva had covered him with a beach towel. “Oh, what is he? The largest sleepover friend this house has ever seen?” Lil said.
“Well, I don’t think he planned to stay…but, yeah, it turns out he sleeps through quite a lot,” I said.
“Everything,” said Vince, who had been doing some snoozing himself.
“Yeah,” said Eva. “Goodness even stepped on him.”
“And Greatie gave him a bath,” Angus added.
Lil looked at me and made a silent laugh. “Maybe he’s faking,” she piped. She waited, then said, “Nope. Guess we have a corpse!” She was in a great mood after her big art day.
“I’m sure I can wake him,” I said. “But do we care?”
Lil shrugged. “Fine. He stays. But just tonight, Dewey. Then it’s up to Mom and Dad to decide if they’ll let you keep him.”
Vince howled at that. He covered his mouth. We all looked down at Robert Deal. He hadn’t moved a hair.
I set Lil’s rewarmed dinner on the table and she reached for it with an appreciative moan. I jerked back the plate and said, “You’re filthy! Do I have to be the parents? Go wash your hands!” Lil laughed out loud.
Later, as I was following Lil and Vince up the stairs to bed, I remembered the hay door. Ugh. I thought about waiting for morning, but it was an easy job and I didn’t want to risk leaving it. I turned and headed back down.
“Where you going, Dew?” Lil whispered.
“I forgot to put the new latch set on the hay door. I just tied it shut earlier. I’ll sleep better if I know it’s secure.”
“I’ll come and help you,” Lil said.
“Naw, I’ll take Vince,” I said. He was easier to work with.
“Not me!” Vince complained. He stood at the top of the stairs saying, “I’m asleep. I’m asleep.”
“You’re standing right there,” I said.
“No. I’m just an apparition.”
“Vince, come on,” I said. “I need you to hold the light. Two minutes—max.”
“O-kay-o-kay-o-kay…”
Greatness bolted well ahead of us the second she hit the grass. Goodness bunny-galloped after her on his old wobbly legs. We watched them go straight to the barn door. They put their noses to the sill. Again.
“What is it with them?” I wondered out loud.
“They’re very focused,” said Vince. He yawned noisily. “Oh, boy. This bike genius is tired,” he said.
“Bike genius,” I scoffed.
“Hey, Robert said it. He’s right. Seriously. Name a bike repair that I haven’t done now. Not mastered, maybe. But what job is there that I can’t get through? You too, Dew. What can’t you get through? That’s my essay.”
“What?” I wasn’t used to Vince doing this much talking.
“‘What the Crunch Did for Me.’”
“Did for you?”
“Yep. Because of the crunch, I can now do a bunch of repairs I couldn’t do before. And don’t go stealing my idea.”
“Your idea?”
“For the essay. When we get back to school, it’s mine.”
“It’s everybody’s,” I mumbled.
At the Bike Barn door I swept the flashlight across the sill. “Goodie! Greatie! What’s the big dog deal here?”
I released the lock and slid the door open. The dogs dove on the track. They snarfed and munched. Vince bent down and took a chunk of something right out of Greatie’s mouth.
“Give me some light,” he said. I put the beam on the little pinkish red crumb. “Looks like one of those colored dog biscuits,” he said.
“Are you sure?” I said. “Better taste it, Vince.”
“Not me. I already brushed my teeth.” He looked at it one more time. “Weird. It’s not the kind we usually get,” he said.
A bell went off inside my thick head.
Oh man! The Spive has been bribing the dogs!
I almost said it out loud.
Keeping them busy at the door while he makes his way in and out up above.
We went into the shop. The dogs went right to the bottom of the stairs and stood wagging their tails.
Or is that the way the biscuits come in? Whichever. Time to fix it.
I pulled the chain to turn on the light over the workbench. I had Dad’s drill in the charger. It was the last piece of equipment I needed. Then I heard a noise overhead. I looked up at the Trap. It was open. Flecks of hay dust fell through the light and drifted down. I turned up my palm. Watched them land in my hand. The dogs pranced at the bottom of the stairs. They wagged and woofed. I looked at Vince. I put a finger on my lips then slowly pointed upward. He tilted his head and we both waited. I caught more dust in my hand. Vince saw it too. Silently, I mouthed: The Spive?
Vince opened his eyes wide. Then his jaw dropped.
“Okay!” I said loudly. Vince jumped. “We’re set here. Let’s call it a night.” I left everything on the bench and encouraged him along with a lot of eyeball language.
“R-right,” Vince said. “Let’s head in.”
“Goodie, Greatie. Come on. Let’s go!” I tried not to whistle a happy tune or do anything so dead-giveaway as that. I tried not to rush—had to fight my own racing heart—tried to roll the door closed just like I always did. Once it was shut, Vince whispered, “What are we going to do?”
“Lock up,” I whispered back, and I threaded the padlock as calmly as I could and clicked it shut. Then I talked fast. “He’s got one way out. I’m going to get there before he does. Quick. Take the dogs to the house. Grab ’em, Vince! Go! Go!” As soon as he had their collars I took off.
I hurried—hopped over the mounds of dry grass along the side of the barn, all the while thinking, I have no plan, I have no plan. I rounded the corner as fast as I could. Why didn’t I bring the light? I was afraid of crashing into Lil’s scaffold. Not much moonlight. I dragged my fingers along the building as I went. I found one of the vertical pipes of the scaffold and gripped it. At the same moment something landed with a thud on the platform above me. The pipe vibrated in my hand. I crouched down.
What’s the plan?
All I could do was startle him. Scare him. I saw his feet catch a rung. The Spive looked huge in the darkness. My heart pounded. I backed up and my arm brushed something—the compressor. I dropped my hand low for balance. My fingers curled around the paint sprayer. I found the trigger.
Oh! Just a reserve. Let there be a reserve….
I held my breath.
The Spive hit the ground then straightened up.
I fired.
The paint flew.
30
I GOT JUST THE ONE SHOT OUT OF THE sprayer.
A yelp of surprise cut the air. There was stumbling and scrambling. I saw a pale head on a bulky form. The crook took off running toward our pasture—fast.
Fast, like Mr. Spivey had probably never been. Not in his whole life.
“Dewey! What was that?”
I turned quickly. “Who’s there? Get the light out of my eyes!” I froze and dropped the paint sprayer where I stood.
“It’s us!” Lil swept the light up into her own face. Vince was with her. So was Robert, still blinking away sleep.
“Dew, are you okay? What happened?”
“I sh-shot—”
“Shot what?”
“Shot—p-paint!” I needed to breathe. I took two long draws then spoke again. “H-he was in the loft—”
“Vince said it was Mr. Spivey?” Lil whispered.
“This late at night?”
“I thought it was Mr. Spivey. Because of all the missing parts—”
“Missing parts?”
I shrank back.
“W-we were losing stuff—just a little at a time—”
“Oh, Dewey! My god!” Lil gasped. She hit me with the light again.
“But listen!” I shielded my face. “It wasn’t him. He can’t run like that. And he can’t push the scaffold—” Lil glanced at the scaffold then looked back at me. “And—also—I saw white,” I said.
“White?”
“White hair.” I brushed my head with my hands. “Like glow-in-the-dark. You guys, I think it was—”
“Macey?” Lil said. “White hair like Officer Macey?”
“Macey’s your thief?” Robert said. “Oh, holy—”
“‘Your thief’? Wait! Wait! You knew about this?” Lil pushed the question at Robert. I was having the same thought myself. He knew?
“I didn’t know anything, not for sure,” Robert said. “But I’ve been around here and I-I saw some things, thought there might be something wrong becau—”
“Oh, Dewey! How could you?” Lil said. “Stuff’s been missing? And you hid it from me?” Talk about being the parents. She sounded so disappointed it made the shame rise inside of me.
“I-I thought it was just the Spive.” I swallowed. “But that couldn’t have been.” I pointed off into the dark. “That was Macey. I swear it was.”
“This is not good,” Lil said. “None of this is good. We’re going back to the house.” She began to march. “Angus and Eva are alone, and I want everyone together. In one place. Now. Then we sort this out. Get a little truth.” She stopped suddenly and blocked me with her hand across my chest. “Did you bring in the money? Is that tin still in the barn?”
“I-bro—”
“Is it still in the barn, Dewey? It’s not a trick question!”
“No! It’s at the house.”
She resumed the march. We followed. My mind raced. I imagined that Macey had stashed his bike somewhere out beyond Sprocket’s pasture. I imagined that he was already well up the highway. Piecing it all together only haunted me more. Macey knew bikes. He knew our shop. He could easily put a shoulder into that scaffold and stroll it right up to the hay door. He knew our dogs.
Crunch Page 11
