by Ann Cameron
“Make like a tree!” I said.
“A tree?” Huey said. “I’m not a tree!”
“Huey!” I said. “Leave!” And I pulled him by the hand.
“I hope you’re better soon!” Gloria called to the man with his appendix out.
We zoomed to a sign marked EXIT as fast as we could go.
5.
We Capture the Great Goo-Goo
Outside, on the grounds around the hospital, we caught our breath.
“We didn’t really check very many criminals—I mean, patients,” Huey said.
“We didn’t have time,” I said.
“Of course,” I added, “a criminal could have seen us coming. In fact, a criminal could be out here, hiding in the bushes, right now.”
Just as I said that, a big hedge in front of us started to shake back and forth.
“There’s somebody!” Gloria said.
Together, very slowly, very quietly, we started moving up on the hedge.
When we got there, we didn’t see anybody. But the hedge was shaking again, farther down—as if it were waving to us.
“Faster this time!” I said, and we ran.
When we got to the other strange spot in the hedge, no one was there, either. But right next to it was a very young kid in shorts—the kind of kid who has just learned to walk and goes really fast so he won’t fall over.
We watched him. He was heading for the hospital fountain. He got to it and just kept walking. Pretty soon he was in water up to his knees.
He turned around and smiled at us.
“Goo-goo,” he said.
“Goo-Goo,” Gloria said, “are you coming out of there?”
Goo-Goo just stared.
“Are you coming out of there?” Gloria repeated.
“No!” Goo-Goo said.
“Do you know how to swim?” Gloria said.
“No!” Goo-Goo said.
“Does your mother know where you are?” Huey asked.
“No!” Goo-Goo said.
“Maybe he’ll be all right in there,” I said.
“Are you crazy?” Gloria said.
“No!” Goo-Goo said.
“Will you come with us?” Gloria asked.
“No!” Goo-Goo said.
“What are we going to do?” Gloria said. “If we leave him, he might drown. If we take him out, he’ll start to cry. People might think we’re kidnapping him.”
“We have to try psychology,” I said.
“You’d like to come out of the water, wouldn’t you, Goo-Goo?” I said. I smiled a big smile.
Goo-Goo smiled back. “No!” he said. He splashed at us a little.
“Psychology is not working,” Gloria whispered.
“You’re right!” I said. “It’s not.” I was worried. I started pulling at the chain around my neck, the chain with my lucky coin on it.
All at once I had an idea. I climbed up on the edge of the fountain. I took the chain off. I made my lucky coin swing back and forth in front of Goo-Goo’s eyes.
First Goo-Goo’s eyes, and then his head, started rolling back and forth. His hand reached out toward the chain.
“You stay right there, Goo-Goo!” I told him.
“No!” Goo-Goo said.
I moved my chain to the edge of the fountain. Goo-Goo reached for it. I stepped back onto the grass. Goo-Goo got out of the fountain.
I made my coin sway one more time in front of his eyes. Goo-Goo’s head swayed, and he moved toward me.
I kept backing up, with Gloria and Huey right next to me. Goo-Goo followed us all the way through the hospital entrance.
We heard a voice from the gift shop. “… I don’t know which way he ran! And I will lose my mind if I don’t find him!”
Goo-Goo looked up and forgot about my lucky coin. He staggered into the gift shop on his short, fat legs, dripping water onto the floor.
“My baby!” said a woman. “You found him!”
“We brought him in,” I said. “Sorry we had to hypnotize him to do it.”
“He was playing in the fountain,” Gloria said. “We didn’t think he could swim.”
“He can’t swim,” said the woman. “I’m so grateful! I’m so glad he’s safe!” She squeezed some water out of his hair.
“His name is Walter Albert Sims the Third, and the only word that he can say is—”
“No!” said the Great Goo-Goo.
6.
A Conference
I learned something about myself from being in the Crimebusters. When things are quiet, I wish they were exciting. When they get exciting, I wish they were quiet.
As soon as I got over the excitement about Goo-Goo, I was ready to find a new place to patrol.
We talked about it on the sidewalk outside the hospital.
“A criminal might go into a bar,” Huey said. “To drown his sorrows.”
“You think we should go into a bar?” Gloria said. She sounded scared.
I wondered if that would be going too far. But bars were right downtown too. I decided it would be interesting.
“It wouldn’t hurt anything,” I said.
“I think my folks might get mad if I went into a bar,” Gloria said.
“Gloria!” I said. “You’re the one who said it isn’t fun if we don’t see new places!”
Gloria looked worried.
“Our dad wouldn’t get upset,” I said. “He could handle it.”
Gloria still looked worried.
“We don’t have to really go in,” I said. “Just inside the doorway. We wouldn’t order a beer or anything. Just a quick look around.”
“I don’t know …” Gloria said.
“We ought to do it,” I insisted. “A criminal might be there. There might be a shootout, like in cowboy movies. Just think of that!
“Let’s go!” I said.
There was perspiration on Gloria’s forehead. I didn’t think it was just from the heat.
“All for one, one for all,” she said.
I led the way.
7.
Trees Again
Seven minutes later we were at the doorway of a bar. It had a sign with a ram’s head painted on it. The letters at the bottom of the sign said SHEEPSHEAD LOUNGE.
“Ready?” I asked.
“Ready as I’ll ever be,” Gloria said.
I opened the door a crack. Nice cool air and a beery smell came out. I stepped inside. Huey followed me. Gloria tried to hide behind Huey.
We looked around. It was dark and dim inside. There was a bartender in a white shirt, and a hundred shiny bottles behind the bar. At one table two men were having ham and eggs and toast and coffee. At another there were four old men playing cards. They each had a glass of beer, but it didn’t look as if they were going to shoot each other anytime soon.
“Okay,” Gloria whispered. “We did it. Let’s go!”
“Just a minute,” I whispered back. “I want to get a closer look at all the faces.”
But just as I was doing that, they all started to stare at us.
“Looking for anybody in particular?” the bartender said.
“Not exactly,” I said.
“Then look at that sign up there,” he said.
I looked. The sign said UNDER 18 NOT ADMITTED BY LAW.
“That sign means you,” the bartender said.
“Lawbreaking!” Gloria moaned.
One of the men with ham and eggs put down his fork.
“Hey,” he called, “aren’t you Ralph Bates’s boys?”
I wanted to keep Huey from answering. “Huey,” I said. “A.A.!” But I figured that wasn’t enough. “Make like a tree!” I whispered.
Huey made like a tree.
All his limbs shook. He grew roots. “No!” he called to the ham-and-eggs man. “No! No way! We don’t even know Dad!”
“Huey! Run!” I said.
He ran fast, and so did I. But Gloria was a whole block ahead of us.
8.
We Watch the Wizard
We ran until we couldn’t run anymore. If there hadn’t been a building to fall against, we’d have dropped on the sidewalk. Instead, we propped ourselves against a wall and breathed hard.
“It’ll probably be all right,” I said. “We didn’t actually go in the bar—I mean, way in. We didn’t order a beer or anything. If the ham-and-eggs man mentions us to Dad, and Dad talks to us, we can just say …” I didn’t know what.
“We can just say we wanted to see what a bar looks like,” Huey suggested.
“That might work,” I said. I didn’t want to worry anymore. It was too hot to worry.
Gloria wiped her face with her hand. “I sure am thirsty,” she said. “I sure could use a drink! I mean, a soft drink.”
I looked around. Across the street was a big sign. It said
KINGMAN’S CAFE, AIR-CONDITIONED
“We could go in there,” I said.
“Okay,” Gloria said.
We staggered on over.
Gloria breathed deeply. “It’s nice and cool in here,” she said.
We were sitting in a big wooden booth back in the corner. The air conditioner was above us, clanking every now and then. Besides the air conditioner, there were ceiling fans, a jukebox, a painting of a green forest on the back wall, and a long counter with the kind of stools that spin around. Behind the counter was a big opening to the kitchen. There was a conveyor belt that led from the kitchen to the front counter, but there wasn’t a single person in sight.
“Is there a waiter?” I said.
“No,” answered a voice.
“Could you bring us a menu?” Gloria asked.
“Nope,” answered the voice.
“Is this a restaurant?” Huey asked.
“The best!” said the voice. “It’s the best, because I’m the best,” the voice continued. “I’m the Food Wizard. I know what people want before they know. For instance, I know you. Water types, right?”
And three glasses of water with ice and straws skidded down the conveyor belt on a tray, got to the bottom, and bumped onto the long counter.
“You want ’em,” said the Wizard, “go get ’em.”
We got up and went to the counter and finished off the water. Three more glasses came down the ramp on another tray. We decided to drink those at the counter, so maybe we could see the Wizard. But he was still out of sight.
“This place is modern,” said the voice of the Food Wizard. “For instance, I am speaking to you now from the walk-in refrigerator, which is the perfect place for a summer vacation in this town. For instance, I don’t even have to leave the walk-in refrigerator to answer the telephone. It’s a speaker phone. It goes on by itself. Like now.”
We heard a little ring, and then a different voice—a voice on the phone line.
“T.J., this is Barry. One club sandwich with cheddar.”
“Teddy Bear,” said another voice, “this is Nemo. Egg salad, pizza sandwich, root beer, chips.”
“Knuckleball,” said a third voice, “this is Harry. Roast beef on rye, pickles, Chinese rice, tea.”
“Ted,” said a fourth voice, “this is Art. Swiss cheese with turkey, coleslaw, and radishes.”
“Eddie,” said a fifth voice, “this is Rick. One corned beef on whole wheat.”
“Junior, this is Harvey. Liver and onions, Waldorf salad on the side.”
The phone clicked off.
“Friends,” said the voice of the Wizard. “They’re building a house. They call in their orders. Then they come to pick them up.”
It was hard to talk to the Wizard, since his voice was coming out of a loudspeaker, but Gloria tried.
“So you write down the orders now?” she asked.
“Never!” said the Food Wizard. “I just remember ’em. It’s good mental training. Along about two, when the rush is over, I write ’em down. You want to know where the menu is, check the timepiece.”
“The what?” Huey said.
“Clock, to you,” said the Wizard. “On the wall.”
We found the clock and started reading the menu next to it.
No matter what I ordered, my allowance money would be wiped out.
“Don’t know what you want, do you?” asked the Wizard. “I figured you for no-spend types.”
His voice wasn’t coming out of the loudspeaker anymore. It was coming out of the kitchen. We turned around to see him, but all we saw was his back—white pants, white shirt, and a tall white chef’s hat. He was moving fast, and his arms were a blur. He had a butter knife in one hand, a pepper grinder in the other, and three slices of bread in the air. There were clouds of smoke and steam, and the smells of hamburger, roast beef, pizza, and liver and onions were all scrambling and swirling around.
“You’re fast!” Huey told the Wizard.
“Huh!” said the Wizard. “You haven’t seen anything yet! Watch this!
“You take a tear potato,” said the Wizard, “and—”
“Tear potato?” I said.
“Yeah, the kind that makes you cry. And you slice it into rushin’ rings.”
We got up on the revolving stools to see; it looked like the Wizard was slicing something, but we couldn’t tell what.
“Russian rings?” said Gloria.
“Yeah,” said the Wizard. “Make ’em in a rush. And then you gold-plate your rings”—his hands swept something through something else that was in a bowl—“and you drop your rings in that think tank.”
“Think tank?” said Huey.
“That’s where the tear potato gets its last chance to think about its life,” explained the Wizard.
“Then you rack your rings”—a basket came out of the think tank—“drain, and serve. Three minutes, minus ten seconds,” said the Wizard. “Rushin’ rings. Try ’em. No charge.”
One large plate came rolling down the conveyor belt onto the counter.
“French-fried onion rings!” Gloria said.
“Some folks call ’em that,” said the Wizard. “Myself, I call ’em rushin’ rings. Now, with these I always like sad apples.”
“Sad apples!” I repeated.
“That’s right,” said the Wizard. “Terminally squeezed.”
He walked to the door of the walk-in refrigerator. In a second, three glasses of apple juice rolled down the conveyor belt.
“Free sample. No charge,” said the Wizard. “Eat up. But you gotta go before twelve, when the lunch crowd comes in. There’s no room after that.”
He turned around and smiled at us. He was a young man, maybe nineteen or twenty years old. He had a friendly face. There was a little scar above his upper lip. I thought I’d seen his face someplace before, but I couldn’t remember where.
I took five rushin’ rings at once.
“These are great!” I said.
“Bon appétit!” said the Wizard. He turned back to the kitchen, picking up a spatula in one hand and a spoon in the other. With his foot he pressed a button that turned on the jukebox.
“My favorite song,” explained the Wizard. “Free sample.”
“It’s a long road,” sang the singer on the jukebox. “A long, long road I’m traveling, but there’s light at the end of the trail.”
We finished the rushin’ rings. I left five cents for a tip.
“Thanks a lot,” we said. “We were thirsty.”
“Drop by again when you’re Thursday,” said the Wizard. “Just not when I’m Russian.”
Out on the street the heat wrapped around us again.
“He’s nice!” Huey said.
“He has a nice face,” Gloria said. “Even his little scar looks nice.”
Then I remembered where I had seen a face like the Wizard’s—on one of the wanted posters at the post office—the one for Eugene George Johnson, “the Great Imitator”!
9.
We Report
“But how can we be sure?” Gloria asked. We were standing on the street corner, trying to decide what to do.
“We should go back to the p
ost office and check Eugene George Johnson’s wanted sheet,” I said.
We ran to the post office as fast as we could. The sheet on Eugene George Johnson was still there. We studied the facts. They all matched. Eugene spoke a strange private language. So did the Wizard. Eugene used many different names. So did the Wizard. Eugene’s hobby was cooking. So was the Wizard’s. Eugene traveled a lot; the Wizard liked a song about traveling. Eugene had a little scar above his upper lip. So did the Wizard.
We studied the photos of Eugene.
“He could be the Wizard,” Gloria said. “Then again, he might not be.”
“I think the Wizard is Eugene,” I said. “Everything fits, even the scar.”
“But are you sure the Wizard’s scar is one quarter of an inch above his upper lip?” Gloria asked.
“Gloria,” I answered, “what can we do? We can’t go to the Wizard and say, ‘May we measure your scar with this ruler?’ We need to give the police our information.”
“Us … actually … go … see … the … police?” Gloria said.
Huey said, “We never heard anybody call the Wizard Eugene.”
“Huey!” I said. “That’s the one name he wouldn’t use.”
“We didn’t hear him speak Chinese,” Gloria said.
“He cooks Chinese rice!” I said. “Isn’t that enough?”
“He was nice to us,” Huey said sadly.
“But he could still be a criminal,” I said. “Besides, look at this.” I pointed to the very bottom of the sheet, where it said in big letters: $25,000 REWARD FOR HIS CAPTURE.
We walked to the police station, saying, “All for one, one for all.” I had caught hold of Gloria’s and Huey’s hands. They weren’t walking fast.
We got to the police-station door.
“Gloria,” I said, “I’m sure we’re right!”
“We’re going to be heroes,” Gloria said. “Or else the opposite.”
I went ahead. I opened the door.
Inside, the police station was not scary. There were five desks, three with empty paper cups on them and all with pictures of police officers and their families. Against the wall were big drawers of files, probably with centuries of crimes described inside. There was a sign that said DO EVERYONE A FAVOR: DON’T SMOKE and another that said YOUR MOTHER DOES NOT WORK HERE. PLEASE CLEAN UP AFTER YOURSELF!
