by Ann Cameron
The only scary part was the receptionist who was talking to us. “What may I do for you?” she asked.
“We’d like to speak to a police officer,” I said.
“All the officers are out on call,” the receptionist said. “But you can speak to the chief.”
“The chief!” Gloria moaned.
“All right,” I said.
The receptionist picked up her intercom phone.
“Three children here to see you,” she said.
She listened to the chief say something. Then she smiled at us. “Go straight down the hall. It’s the first room on the left.”
We walked down the hall. My feet were feeling kind of weak and slithery, and I had spaghetti-string legs. I was still holding Gloria’s and Huey’s hands.
We went into the first room on the left.
The chief was sitting behind a big desk. He had a nice face but some gray hair. I could understand that. I figured that if I kept on being a secret agent, I would soon have gray hair too. On the desk was a nameplate—THEODORE J. DAVIS, SR., CHIEF OF POLICE.
We stood in front of the desk. Huey didn’t say a word. Gloria looked green.
“I’m Julian,” I said. “Julian Bates.” Gloria and Huey didn’t say their names.
I knew I was right, but it was still hard to keep talking.
“We’re here about a most-wanted case,” I said.
“Sit down,” said the chief. “Get comfortable.”
We all sat down, but I didn’t feel too comfortable.
“Now,” said the chief, “tell me: which wanted person have you found?”
“We think we have found Eugene George Johnson,” I said.
The chief smiled. “Eugene? ‘The Great Imitator’?” he said. “You’ve really found him? He’s someone I definitely would like to capture. And there’s a twenty-five-thousand-dollar reward! Of course, if you have found him, the reward is yours. Where is he?”
“He’s in Kingman’s Café,” I said.
“In Kingman’s Café!” repeated the chief. “But that’s the café where the service is faster than the speed of time. You mean, he was in Kingman’s!”
The chief started to get out of his chair.
“There’s not so much hurry,” I said. “See, he works in Kingman’s.”
“Kingman was talking about adding extra help,” said the chief. “Is it somebody new?”
“We don’t know,” Gloria said. “When we were there, only one man was working. A young man or an old boy.”
“Wait a minute!” said the chief. He looked shocked. “You’re not talking about T.J. Ted Teddy Bear Eddie Knuckleball Junior?”
“Right!” Huey said. “He’s the one!”
“Hard to believe!” said the chief. He looked at us sternly, as if he could see everything about us, from our fingerprints to our toeprints.
“You three go by the post office much?” he said.
“Sometimes,” I said.
“You’ve been studying Eugene’s poster?” he said.
“Sometimes,” I said.
“You’re a private investigating group?” he said.
I didn’t want to answer. I was afraid the chief would say kids should just mind their own business.
“Are you? Or aren’t you?” said the chief.
“We are, kind of,” I said.
“Good!” said the chief.
I was relieved he wasn’t mad at us.
“Good!” said the chief. “Because I have to investigate T.J. Ted Teddy Bear Eddie Knuckleball Junior. And I want you to do it for me.”
10.
We Test Eugene
We were in the chief’s patrol car, parked just around the corner from Kingman’s Café. Gloria and Huey, looking nervous, were sitting in the backseat. I was sitting in the front seat, next to the chief. It was exciting—except I was afraid my hair was turning gray and I would be an old man in an hour. If I lived that long.
“Now, here’s what I want you to do,” said the chief. “Go in and sit at the counter. Order some lunch. You don’t have to pay for it. When I come in—later—I’ll pay for it.
“After you order the lunch, you start questioning the suspect. Just ask him about his life in a friendly way. Ask him what he was doing on April twenty-first. That’s the date of Eugene’s last strike. In Topeka, Kansas.
“Then ask him if he knows Eugene George Johnson. Watch his face when he answers.”
“Maybe—maybe you’d lend us your gun,” I said.
“Sorry, I can’t do that,” said the chief. “I’ll give you this whistle. If you have a problem—if the suspect gets a little wild or crazy—blow hard. I’ll be right in.”
The chief reached over and opened the car door—because I didn’t open it myself, I guess.
Huey tapped the chief on the shoulder. “May I stay here with you?” he said.
The chief smiled. “Sorry, son,” he said. “I need all three of you working the café. Have a nice lunch.”
“I was hungry,” Gloria said. “I’m not hungry anymore.”
We sat down on stools at the counter. I held the chief’s police whistle hidden tight in my palm.
“You three!” said the Wizard. “Back again!”
“Yes,” I said. “And we want three barbecued beefs on buns.”
“Come into some money, have you?” said the Wizard.
“Kind of,” I said.
“By the way,” I said. “What’s your life like? I mean, what do you do with your life?”
“What do I do with my life?” said the Wizard. “Same as everybody else.”
An answer like that wouldn’t satisfy the chief.
“What do you mean?” I said.
“Same as everybody else. I work.”
“Don’t you do anything else besides work?” I asked.
“I get up at six thirty. I go to the gym, I swim, I lift weights. I come here. I work eight hours. After that I go to college, and after that I go out with my girlfriend. Then I go home, I go to bed, I get up at six thirty, I go to the gym.… Get the picture?” said the Wizard.
“Don’t you do anything else? Anything—more?” I asked.
“No!” said the Wizard. He turned around and started stirring the barbecue.
“I like to travel so much,” Gloria said. “Especially to Topeka, Kansas. How about you? Have you ever been to Topeka?”
“It’s a nice town,” said the Wizard. He turned around and faced us.
Huey opened his mouth. “Have you ever heard of—of—of—of—”
“Eugene George Johnson?” I finished.
“Sure have,” said the Wizard. “A tricky mover! I admire him!”
“You do?” I said. My hand tightened hard around the whistle.
“You mean the basketball player, don’t you?” the Wizard said.
“That’s not who I meant,” I said.
The Wizard turned his back to us and peered into the barbecue pot again.
“Burner’s acting up. Not heating fast today,” he said. “It was working fine till April.”
“That reminds me,” I said. “My favorite day is April twenty-first. Do you remember what you were doing on April twenty-first?”
“Sure do!” said the Wizard. “I wasn’t here. I was living for free, having a great vacation.”
“In Topeka?” Gloria said.
“Girl,” said the Wizard, “you got Topeka on the brain?”
“You weren’t in Topeka?” Gloria said.
“I was up the river, on a fishing trip with a Boy Scout troop.”
“Really?” I said. The Wizard was okay. He had an alibi. I was a tiny bit sorry, but mostly very glad.
“Finally hot,” said the Wizard. He ladled out the barbecue. “You kids sure are hard on the Wizard,” he said. “You come here in the morning, you act normal. Poor, but normal. Now all of a sudden you come back with money and more questions than newspaper reporters! You aren’t on drugs, I hope?”
“Us!” Gloria said.
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“For your own good, I’d have to turn you in. Because I have certain connections,” said the Wizard. “In fact—”
The door to the café opened. We smiled. We were rescued. It was the chief.
The Wizard smiled too. “Hi, Dad!” he said.
The whistle dropped from my hand.
11.
The Light at the End of the Trail
I hung on to the counter, but I looked at the chief.
“We were wrong,” I said. “I guess you knew all along that we were wrong.”
“Wrong about what?” demanded the Wizard.
“It’s a personal matter,” said the chief. “Just between me and the kids.” He smiled and lowered his voice. “I was ninety-nine percent sure,” he said to us. “But it’s my job to be one hundred percent sure.” He lowered his voice even more. “No matter who the suspect is.”
“Dad,” the Wizard said. “You know these kids? These kids are strange.”
“They act a little strange,” said the chief. “But it’s only because they’re working for me. I’m teaching them not to decide about anything until they get the facts. T.J., do you have more of that barbecue?”
“Coming up,” the Wizard said.
“We’re going to move the kids’ food over to a booth,” the chief said. “I want to sit with them.”
So we moved all our plates, and the chief ordered some sad apples, and rushin’ rings, and Chinese rice. While we waited we told the chief about Crumbles and Baby Goo-Goo.
My appetite started to come back. I thought I could finally eat. And then I looked up. A customer was coming through the door. I blinked. My stomach shriveled up.
“Hi, Dad,” Huey and I said.
Dad didn’t even say “hi” back.
“I go by the hospital,” he said. “I go by to talk about a car part with a customer who had his appendix out. He asks if I have a son named Huey. I say yes, and he says a boy named Huey was just in there with another boy, and they both look a lot like me. And they were with a girl. Then he says, ‘Too bad your wife is in the hospital!’ And I say, ‘She isn’t!’
“Then I stop by the Sheepshead Lounge to look for a customer who owes me money, and a man says, ‘Your sons were just in here.
“Then I think, Well, my sons sure are getting around. And I come into Kingman’s to think it over, and here you are, having lunch with the chief of police! So naturally I wonder what is going on.”
Dad looked at me. I cleared my throat. It seemed like there was going to be an awful lot to explain.
“Why don’t you sit right down with us, Mr. Bates?” said the chief. “Order yourself some lunch.”
Dad pulled a chair up to the booth and sat on it with both his legs out to the side, as if he were riding a horse. He didn’t look calm.
“Don’t worry, Mr. Bates,” the chief said. “Your boys and Gloria have been helping me on a case, so I bought them lunch. They are very fine children, all three of them. Very smart, and very alert. In fact, they saved a dying dog, and over at the hospital they saved a boy from drowning.”
“Really!” Dad said.
“Tell your dad about it,” said the chief.
So I did. Dad wanted all the details, and he was really impressed, and while we talked we had more sad apples, and more barbecue, and more of everything, and it was really a great day.
When we couldn’t talk or eat any more, we said good-bye to the Wizard. The chief shook hands with us and said he hoped we could work together again sometime. On the way out Dad put his arm around us and told us he was proud of us.
So I decided it was safe to ask him a few things.
“You aren’t angry that we went into a bar?” I said.
“A bar isn’t a place for kids,” he said. “But I can understand that you wanted to see it. It’s no big deal. I don’t think Gloria’s folks will be mad at her, either.” He gave Gloria a little hug.
“Another thing,” I said. “You aren’t mad that we went too far?”
“Too far?” said my dad. “What do you mean ‘too far’?”
“You told me, when I got my bike, not to go too far. And we went almost all over town.”
“Oh, that!” said my father. “I guess I never finished explaining. I meant: not along the six-lane thruway, and not across the railroad tracks, and not under the big bridge where there are lots of semitrailers. That’s what I meant.”
Huey looked up. “So we can go to Tokyo!” he said.
“Tokyo?” Dad said.
I realized it was no time to say “A.A.” I stepped on Huey’s foot.
About the Author
ANN CAMERON is the bestselling author of many popular books for children, including The Stories Julian Tells, More Stories Julian Tells, The Stories Huey Tells, and More Stories Huey Tells. Her other books include Julian’s Glorious Summer; Julian, Dream Doctor; and The Most Beautiful Place in the World. Ann Cameron lives in Guatemala.
About the Illustrator
DIANE WORFOLK ALLISON studied art and literature at Macalester College and later became a Montessori teacher. She lives in Brookline, Massachusetts, with her husband and two children. Besides illustrating children’s books, she teaches art to elementary school children as part of the Massachusetts artist-in-residence program.
