Laugh Till You Cry

by Joan Lowery Nixon

  “Nobody saw you, either,” Jennifer snapped, glaring at Brad.

  “Yeah? Well, I had to see Ms. Jackson after class.”

  “Does your mom know you’ve got a phone with you?” Jake asked Cody.

  “She gave it to me,” Cody said. “The doctor is supposed to call her about a new medicine he might give my grandmother, and if he does, then she wants me to go to the drugstore and pick it up on my way home. I have to call Mom right after school and find out.”

  Jake nodded, as if he had accepted Cody’s answer.

  Jake’s partner came back holding a lunch sack. “You left an apple in your lunch bag,” he said to Cody. As he handed it to him, he reported to Jake, “It was right where he said it was.”

  “That doesn’t mean anything. He could have made the call,” Coach Anderson insisted.

  “But I didn’t,” Cody said, close to panic. “I didn’t call the school.”

  “We can check your school’s incoming calls with the phone company and find out within a few minutes if a call was made from Cody’s phone,” Jake said.

  With trembling fingers, Cody took the phone from his pocket and handed it to Jake, but Jake gave it back to him. “We don’t need your phone to do the checking. Before you go home, just call your mom as you were asked to do.”

  The coach looked from Mr. Carmody to Jake. “Aren’t you going to do something?” she asked.

  “Yes, ma’am. We’re going to check your school’s incoming phone calls, like I told you.”

  She looked at Cody. “I mean about Cody Carter.”

  “There’s nothing to do right now. Prank phone threats to a school are nothing new. In an area as large as Houston, we usually get some every year.”

  “But what if this call wasn’t a prank?”

  “That’s always a possibility. And that’s why the bomb squad is here, and why we’ll keep a close eye on your school for the next couple of weeks.”

  Mr. Carmody took a step forward. “It appears that all we can do at the moment is what the officer suggested, Ms. Anderson.” He turned on his microphone again. “All students immediately get back in line so your homeroom teachers can take roll call.”

  While everyone began hurrying to get in place, Cody looked up at Jake. His stomach hurt, and he felt sick and scared. “I didn’t have anything to do with a bomb threat,” he insisted. “I wouldn’t do a thing like that.”

  “I believe you,” Jake said.

  “But they think …” Cody couldn’t finish.

  “They won’t if we prove them wrong.”

  “How are we going to do that?”

  “By finding out who made the call,” Jake told him.

  “But how?”

  “Just leave that up to us,” Jake said.

  Cody took a long breath, already feeling better. He turned, ready to join his class and get in line.

  At that moment Ms. Jackson glanced at Cody and beckoned to him.

  “What’s your teacher’s name?” Jake asked.

  “Ms. Jackson. She’s my English teacher and homeroom teacher, too,” Cody said, and smiled weakly at Jake.

  He walked quickly toward the others in his homeroom, surprised when he realized that Jake was not only walking with him but had a hand clamped on his shoulder, steering him toward Ms. Jackson.

  As they stopped in front of her, Cody knew he couldn’t just stand there looking stupid. He had to say something, so he introduced Jake.

  Jake gave Ms. Jackson a broad smile. “There has been some confusion about who was where and when,” he said. “I just want you to know that there is absolutely no evidence that Cody was involved in that phone call.”

  Ms. Jackson smiled back. “I’m glad to hear that,” she said.

  Jake’s grip loosened, so Cody quickly slipped to one side and hurried to the end of the line.

  He expected Hayden to get on his case, but to his relief, Hayden and the other two kids were intent on trying to hear what Jake was saying to Ms. Jackson.

  “We can trace the call,” Cody heard, and he saw Eddie throw Hayden a quick look.

  Hayden ignored him and just kept staring at Jake.

  Ha! Cody thought. I know you guys would like the caller to be me, but tracing the call will prove that it wasn’t.

  Jennifer was talking with Emily, so Cody could only pick up a word or two. He heard Jake say, “Prank calls have been going on for years. Nothing to worry about nine times out of ten.” And he heard Ms. Jackson saying, “While we were in the teachers’ lounge having lunch …”

  Thankful that Hayden hadn’t immediately begun to give him a bad time, Cody kept his eyes on Jake, too, and watched him stride back into the building.

  Whatever Jake had said must have reassured Ms. Jackson, because for a while after he left, she kept on smiling.

  An hour later Cody left the drugstore with the package for his grandmother. Warily, he glanced to each side as he walked toward Longmont, expecting to be jumped by Hayden and his buddies at any moment.

  To his surprise, there was no sign of them, but as he turned onto Longmont, he saw a bright blue cop car parked in front of his house. Not knowing what to expect, Cody ran up the front steps and through the front door, coming to an abrupt stop just inside the living room as he faced Jake Ramsey.

  Jake seemed to overflow one of the wingback chairs by the fireplace. He didn’t get up, but he smiled at Cody, as did Mrs. Carter, who sat opposite him in the matching chair.

  “Come in, honey. Sit down with us,” she said. As Cody shoved his books onto the coffee table and handed the small bag from the drugstore to his mother, she added, “Officer Ramsey was kind enough to explain all about the prank call to your school today and what happened.”

  Cody turned to Jake. “It was just a prank? They didn’t find a bomb?”

  Jake shook his head. “No bomb. It was probably some kid with no brains or sense trying to scare everyone.”

  “It wasn’t me, Mom,” Cody said.

  “Of course it wasn’t,” she answered.

  Cody squirmed. “Coach Anderson thought that just because I wasn’t in the cafeteria and because I had your phone with me, I had to be the one who made the call. But Officer Ramsey said they could trace the call to the school. He said they could prove I hadn’t made it.” He looked hopefully at Jake. “Did you trace it? Did you find out who made the call?”

  Jake nodded. “We’ve learned it came from a pay phone outside a convenience store a block away from the school.” Jake unfolded his long legs and stood. “Cody, I got your mom’s permission for you to come with me tonight to a ball game. I’m pitching for one of the Houston police department’s softball teams. We’re playing a team from West University over in Memorial Park. I need someone to cheer for me, and maybe do a little work as batboy, too.”

  “Me? Sure, I’d like to go.” Cody scrambled to his feet.

  “Then get your homework done. I’ll pick you up around five.”

  Excited about the evening to come, Cody said goodbye to Jake, paid a quick visit to his grandmother, and spread out his books on the kitchen table. He’d have time to finish his homework for every class except English, and he wasn’t worried about that. He had only his project about Hamlet, which wasn’t due until Friday.

  For about an hour he worked steadily. When he stopped for a breather, a thought popped into his brain.

  His mother had said it was a prank call. What did she think, really? Was the caller just some nut making a crank call or someone who intended to bomb the school?

  Cody shuddered. His worst fear, however, was that everyone would keep thinking the caller was him.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Jake’s own car was a ten-year-old Mercury Marquis, one of the long, stretched-out models that had gone out of style when most cars went either compact or SUV. Jake didn’t seem to mind the age of his car, and Cody noticed that it fit him perfectly, with plenty of headroom and space for his long legs. He imagined Jake trying to squeeze himself into a Volkswagen bu
g or a little Beemer and couldn’t help grinning.

  “What’s so funny?” Jake asked.

  Cody was afraid that whatever he said would sound insulting to Jake and his car, so he answered, “I’m just feeling good, I guess.”

  Jake smiled back, then turned onto Shepherd, heading north. “Did you get your homework done?” he asked.

  “Sure,” Cody said. “Except for English. We don’t have anything due tomorrow. We’re just supposed to be working on a project about Hamlet that’s due on Friday.”

  “Hamlet,” Jake said. “I remember having to study Hamlet. He was one complicated guy.”

  “Mom said he was melancholy, but Grandma said he was crazy. I don’t know which one is right.”

  “Want another opinion?”

  “I guess,” Cody said, although he really wished they could forget Hamlet and talk about something else.

  “I think he pretended to be way off his rocker so that he could claim temporary insanity and not be blamed for what he’d done,” Jake said. “I’ve seen plenty of perps pull that, and their defense attorneys go right along with it.”

  “What’s a perp?”

  “It’s short for perpetrator. A perpetrator’s the guy who commits the crime.”

  “Oh, I know—a defendant. My dad was a prosecutor—a district attorney.” Cody smiled. “I bet anybody prosecuting Hamlet would get a sure conviction.”

  “Unless the jury believed the temporary insanity defense.”

  Cody thought about Hamlet. Had he been pretending to be crazy? Or was he really crazy? Or just sad? How was anybody supposed to figure this guy out? He gave a long sigh.

  Jake threw him a quick glance. “Why don’t we ask Ms. Jackson what she thinks?”

  “She wants us to make up our own minds,” Cody said. “She listed Hamlet’s state of mind as one of the topics we could work on for our project.” He suddenly realized what he had just heard. “You said we. What do you mean, we could ask her?”

  “I mean you could ask her,” Jake said. He turned onto the drive that led through Memorial Park. The path that paralleled the drive was crowded with walkers and joggers, keeping up a steady pace. “I’ll be dropping by your school a couple of times a day for the next week, just to make sure everything’s under control, and I was thinking it’s likely I’ll see her while I’m there.”

  Cody leaned back against the seat. For just an instant he closed his eyes. “It’s because of the bomb threat,” he said. “That’s why you’ll come by the school. You think the guy who telephoned will call again, don’t you?”

  “Nobody knows what the person will do,” Jake said. “People who make calls like that are usually bored or carrying a grudge, or don’t bother to think about what’s right and what’s wrong. Chances are he got his kicks from scaring everyone and that’s the last we’ll hear from him.”

  “What if it isn’t?”

  Jake pulled onto a side road and into a parking lot. Between the lot and the thick forest that lay beyond, Cody could see a baseball diamond, with four rows of bleachers at each side of home base. Grown-ups and kids, carrying coolers and soft drinks, were already beginning to fill the seats.

  As Jake turned off the engine, he said, “Cody, we take precautions even when we think there’s nothing to worry about. Stop worrying. You can take precautions, too.”

  Cody looked up, startled. “Like what?”

  “Like making sure you’re with the other kids all the time. Don’t go off alone. Don’t give anyone a chance to make a threatening call while you’re not around and then point a finger at you. Got it?”

  “Okay,” Cody said.

  “Then stop looking so unhappy.” Jake swung open his car door. “Come on, we’ve got a ball game to win.”

  Cody followed Jake to the diamond, where he was introduced to a lot of friendly people whose names he’d never be able to remember.

  “Cody’s our batboy tonight,” Jake announced, and he led Cody over to a spot near home base. “Be sure you stand far enough back so you won’t get hit by a flying bat. Ever been batboy before?”

  “No, but my dad used to take me to games, so I know what I’m supposed to do,” Cody said. “Mostly, it’s pick up the bat after the batter starts running, and put it on the rack with the others.”

  “Right. You’ll do a good job.”

  Cody took a quick look around. “All these people are police officers?”

  “Yes. And their families.”

  “Don’t they have to be on duty in case somebody robs a bank, or runs his car through a red light, or whatever else perps do?”

  Jake grinned. “The cops you see here have already put in a day’s work. We’re off duty. There are plenty of other officers out there, ready to go into action if they’re needed.”

  Someone yelled, “Come on, y’all! Play ball!” and Jake gave Cody a pat on the shoulder and took off at a trot to join his team.

  As Cody waited at one side, he thought about how the day had turned so completely upside down. The huge redbrick Oliver J. Farnsworth Middle School had been full of activity. Now it was empty and silent. The early-evening sun would be splashing the rows of reflecting windows with deep gold. Even Coach Anderson would have gone home by this time. If whoever had called earlier about a bomb wanted to do more than just make a threat, he could go to the school and sneak around to the back and …

  The loud crack of a bat startled Cody. All thoughts of school problems disappeared as he joined in cheering for a tall, thin woman on Jake’s team who had rounded first base and was heading for second.

  The game was close, and it was fun. At one point Cody was sent in as pinch hitter when someone on the team turned his ankle. Cody swung wild on the first pitch. But on his second attempt to hit the ball out of the park, he barely tipped it, and it rolled into the field.

  The catcher and third baseman both dove for the ball, colliding with each other, and Cody made it safely to first base.

  Then Jake hit a homer, his team won, and the game was over. With a lot of laughter and good-natured teasing, everyone left the field, and another group arrived to start their game.

  As the banks of bright lights on the field switched on, breaking the dusk that was settling around them, Jake held the car door open for Cody. “Time for food,” he said. “Let’s celebrate our win.”

  Cody peeled his sweaty T-shirt away from his chest, aware that Jake looked every bit as grungy. “We’re kind of a mess,” he said.

  “Right. So we’ll hit a Sonic Drive-In. They’ve got great burgers, huge onion rings, and chocolate shakes so thick you have to eat them with a spoon. It’s the kind of food made to fill up hungry ballplayers like us.”

  Cody felt good about hanging out with Jake. “You could have been in pro ball if you’d wanted to be,” he said.

  “Maybe.” Jake got into the car and turned the ignition key. “But I’m doing what I really want to do. From the time I wasn’t much bigger than you, I planned to be in law enforcement.” As he backed the car out of the parking lot and pulled onto Memorial Drive, he said, “Next month I’m going to take the exam for detective.”

  “What’s the difference between being a policeman and being a detective?” Cody asked.

  “There’s a lot more to learn if you want to be a detective,” Jake answered. “Detectives specialize in different types of crime, and they not only study how crimes are committed and solved, they also have to know as much as possible about the people who commit crimes—their motives and actions and even body language that might be clues to what they’ve been up to.”

  “What kinds of clues?”

  “A guilty suspect could keep from looking you in the eye or not be able to stop twiddling his fingers or rubbing his nose.”

  “You mean looking nervous?”

  “Right. But not all perps look or feel nervous. Some of them stay cool. So then you smoke ’em out. You ask a question repeatedly and try to trip them up and see if they give different answers, which could prove t
hat they’re lying. And, most important of all, you find the motive.”

  “You mean their reason for committing the crime?”

  “That’s it. There always has to be a motive.”

  They had gone under Loop 610 and were headed down Westheimer.

  “The drive-in’s not far from here,” Jake said. “How about what I suggested? Burgers and all that good stuff okay with you?”

  “It all sounds great,” Cody said. He added, grinning, “Speaking of burgers, you ought to meet my cousin Hayden. He thinks the four food groups are Hamburger, Cheeseburger, Chiliburger, and Coke.”

  Jake laughed. “That’s a good one. Got any more?”

  “Sure,” Cody said, and he told Jake his broccoli joke.

  “Maybe I can use those,” Jake said. “Sometime, if you’ve got the time, I’ll have to try my routine out on you.”

  Cody suddenly realized how hungry he was. But it really didn’t matter what or where he ate. He was having a great time just being with Jake.

  As Jake drove back to Cody’s grandmother’s house after dinner, he asked Cody, “So what’s going on with this cousin of yours?”

  “Let’s not talk about Hayden. Let’s talk about somebody who doesn’t make me turn green and get sick to my stomach,” Cody answered.

  “I know you don’t want to talk about it, but Hayden has been bullying you and I’d like to help. Nearly everyone has a bully in his life at some time or another. I wasn’t always this big, you know. When I was a kid, I was the scrawniest one in the neighborhood. You better believe I got picked on. The trick is to be smarter than the bully.”

  Cody tried to imagine Jake as a scrawny kid. “It’s just that Hayden is bigger than I am, and he has two mean, stupid friends who like to be bullies, too. Three against one.”

  “Right. But this isn’t about being outnumbered. Using your fists is not going to solve this problem. You need to use your mind. Figure out why Hayden is giving you a bad time and then outsmart him.”

  “His motive?”

  Jake smiled and said, “Yes! His motive. Then think of a way to solve the problem. I know things are tough for you right now, Cody, but hang in there.” They pulled up to the house.