KALAMAZOO CITY UNIVERSITY, STUDENT UNION, 6:00 P.M.
The Student Union was rocking when Pandini, flanked by Zengo and Bobby, arrived for the Youth Rally. Like the evening before, the area around the building was swarming with noisy reporters, climbing over one another like ants at a picnic, each trying to get as close as possible to the man of the hour. Zengo glanced at every face but saw no one who looked suspicious. He had his work cut out for him that evening—not only did he have to keep a sharp eye on all the students, but he also had to keep these motley newshounds on his radar.
Zengo noticed the “U” was a lot spiffier than just a few years before, when he had gone to school there. He also noticed an imposing bronze plaque with a portrait of Frank Pandini Jr. mounted in the lobby. Zengo figured the mogul had provided the funding to give the building its proud new look. Not a surprise.
“Quite a crowd,” Pandini murmured as Bobby stepped in front, sticking out his elbows as widely as possible to clear the path ahead of them. “And by that I mean, quite a crowd of reporters.” Still, he smiled broadly as the flashbulbs popped around him.
Pandini Enterprises had just opened a new Frank’s Franks stand on campus, and Irving Myers was already there, handing out fistfuls of coupons for free hot dogs to a crowd of students. He gave the rest of the coupons to a nearby student volunteer and strode up to the candidate. “Quite a turnout, eh?”
“Great work, Myers,” said Pandini. “Especially summoning that welcoming committee.” He nodded back at the scrum of reporters. If possible, Myers grinned even more broadly and bobbed his head up and down.
Gesturing at the starry-eyed students who surrounded them, Myers said loudly, “Would you like to greet some of the young citizens who have volunteered their time to put this event together?”
“I’d like nothing better!” said Pandini, just as loudly.
Bobby continued to sweep a path before them as the candidate and his manager moved through the crowd together, Pandini waving at the smiling onlookers with his good arm.
Zengo hung back, continuing to scan the crowd for anything out of the ordinary. Though it was unlikely that the perp would make another hit so soon after last evening’s failed attempt, Zengo was still on the lookout for bushy tails. But all he saw were college students, none of them bright-eyed—some looked like they had just rolled out of bed, others looked like they had been up for way too long in the library.
There was one person there who was out of place. It was an older guy, leaning against a wall, trying to blend in. Corey O’Malley was sipping a cup of red punch, his pockets crammed with Frank’s Franks coupons. Of course, O’Malley was working his own case, but the sight of him made Zengo’s fur rise, just a little. Pandini was his responsibility. He gave a short, civil nod to his former partner.
“How’s it going, rook—I mean, Rick?” said O’Malley.
Zengo pretended not to notice the slipup. “Everything is under control,” he said. “How about you? Anything turning up in the archives?” Zengo pronounced that last word sourly—like he had just drunk pickle juice.
“We’ve been combing through stacks of paperwork on Pandini’s various business associates,” said O’Malley. “The guy’s made a lot of enemies in this city, but no one with any connection to the attack. Glad we did our research before wasting time running around Kalamazoo.”
Zengo’s eyes slid over to O’Malley, who held his gaze. Was that a dig, or just one of his typical bits of overbearing advice? Zengo decided to ignore it and, stiffening his shoulders, changed the subject. “So, where’s Detective Cooper?” he asked. “Is she out asking the teachers for more homework?”
O’Malley nodded for Zengo to look behind him. Cooper was standing about a foot away, one eyebrow raised. She had obviously overheard Zengo.
“H-h-hi . . .” he stumbled.
“Hello, Detective Zengo,” said Cooper coolly.
O’Malley cleared his throat. “Say, Jo, I got us some extra coupons,” he said, handing half of his stash to Cooper.
“Excellent,” she said with a short nod, tucking them away in her jacket pocket.
Zengo couldn’t believe this buttoned-down detective ate that crud too. At least she didn’t spill mustard on her shirt like O’Malley did.
“Any new findings, Detective?” she asked. “I hope you realize we’re counting on you to bring anything unusual to our attention.”
Was she giving him orders? Zengo looked back and forth at Cooper and O’Malley. They stood shoulder to shoulder, their faces showing no expression. Zengo felt a pang of jealousy, but he kept it hidden.
“I’m all over this situation, Cooper,” he said, with just a touch of edge in his voice. “But it’s kind of hard to keep a lookout for suspicious squirrels with all those reporters in the way. It’s a good thing you two decided to show up here. I could use a hand. See any bushy tails anywhere?”
“Don’t tell me you think every squirrel is a potential perp?” said O’Malley.
“I’m not looking for any old squirrel,” said Zengo. “I’m looking for the squirrel. Are you guys going to help me or not?”
Before the conversation got hotter, they were interrupted by a familiar voice coming from somewhere around their knees. All three detectives looked down.
“Well, well, well . . . looks like the Platypus Police Squad family is growing. . . .” Derek Dougherty could barely be seen behind his camera. It wasn’t a gigantic camera, just a regular-size camera held skillfully by a small chameleon.
“Who’s the pretty lady?”
Cooper crouched down, removed her sunglasses, and put her bill right in Derek’s face, pushing his camera to the side. “My name is Detective Jo Cooper. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” She grasped Derek’s hand and shook it so firmly that the reporter’s bugged-out eyes bugged out even more.
Derek attempted to shake the pain out of his hand. “Well, glad to know that the Platypus Police Squad has its best people on the case.”
“What are you doing over here, anyway?” said Zengo. “Shouldn’t you be over there with all the other muckrakers?” He indicated the crowd of reporters shoving their way as near to the stage at the front of the room as possible
“Besides,” said O’Malley, “I heard Patrick McGovern is picking up some groceries across town. Isn’t that a more typical story for the Krier’s front page?” The Kalamazoo City Krier was the city’s biggest newspaper, and it had officially endorsed McGovern for mayor. It also seemed to go out of its way to make Pandini look bad whenever possible.
“Hardy-har,” said Dougherty. “I cover any and all events around KC. And what could be more interesting than Detective Rick Zengo here providing security for old Pandini Jr.? It’s such a fascinating story! I can’t wait to snap some pictures of you with your new pal, Ricky.”
Zengo was not amused. And he loathed being called “Ricky” by anyone who was not his mother.
Derek continued. “The Pandini family isn’t exactly known for its ability to stay on the right side of the law. There’s bound to be something shady going on in this campaign. Wouldn’t you agree, Ricky?”
“That’s Detective Zengo to you. And I’m not here to comment on Pandini’s candidacy, just to protect the candidate himself.” Zengo returned to scanning the crowd, an attempt to brush off the pushy questions. But Derek wasn’t known for his subtlety.
“Yes, it really is the most curious of circumstances, isn’t it? Why again are you working as Pandini’s hired arm?”
“Oops,” said O’Malley, tipping his cup and sending a waterfall of red punch down on Derek Dougherty.
“HEY!” Derek shouted while stepping to the side and looking down on his now-pink shirt. “What are you thinking? I should—”
Derek’s rant was interrupted by a tap-tapping noise emanating from the big speakers at the front of the room. The detectives and the journalist looked up to the podium, where an enthusiastic young volunteer was trying to get the attention of the audience. Behind her hung a b
anner that read “Students for Pandini.”
Zengo needed to get to the front of the room, and fast. “Nice chatting with you all, but I’m on duty,” he said, hustling away from the others. How was he going to make his way through the surging crowd? He drew himself up to his full height and hoped he seemed intimidating. “PLATYPUS POLICE SQUAD! COMING THROUGH!” he shouted, over and over. And to his surprise, students actually moved out of his way.
But reporters and photographers crowded the edge of the stage, and he couldn’t get one of them to budge, no matter how hard he tried. He even pulled out his badge and waved it around, but no response. Finally he caught Bobby’s eye, just behind the curtain at the edge of the stage. Bobby came forward and scowled his darkest scowl, and finally enough reporters moved aside that Zengo was able to climb up and join him.
He and Bobby stepped behind the curtain, where Pandini and Myers were discussing the speech he was set to deliver. Pandini was taking his sling off, and Myers was trying to stop him. “Optics, Frank, optics,” said Myers, indicating the reporters and photographers. “We’ve got to keep up the sympathy play.”
“Nonsense,” said Pandini. “The people want to see a strong candidate, not a weak one.”
At the podium, the student volunteer had finally gotten control of the crowd. “What an amazing turnout!” she said. “We are so proud to welcome the next mayor of Kalamazoo City!”
The crowd roared. She motioned for them to be quiet again. “He is here to talk to us about the issues that matter to us! So please give a big KCU welcome to Mr. Frank Pandini Jr.!”
Pandini took off his sling and handed it to Myers as he stepped through the curtain. “How can I help him if he won’t listen to my advice?” Myers muttered.
The crowd erupted once more as Pandini stood before them. Students pumped their fists and held up posters provided by the Pandini campaign. It made for some fantastic photos, and camera flashes popped all throughout the room.
“Thank you, thank you!” said Pandini as he motioned for the crowd to settle down. “What a very warm welcome, thank you!” Pandini waited for the last hoot and holler to subside, and then took an additional beat for dramatic effect before going into his prepared remarks.
Zengo had never heard Pandini’s stump speech before. He expected it to be a variation on his usual theme—“Your city—better!” But instead, Pandini was on a new tack.
“You students are the future,” he began. “And as your mayor, I’m going to put your health and safety at the very top of my agenda.”
The students cheered again. Zengo was interested to know where this was going.
“In all my years as a successful businessman, I am proud to say that I have created many, many opportunities for you all to lead better and healthier lives. The Pandini sports facility here at the university for example.”
He was interrupted once more by cheers.
“Thank you, thank you. And of course, my restaurants, even the cafeteria right here on campus, which I also operate, serve nothing but delicious, healthful food—”
One student shouted, “What about Frank’s Franks?” A heckler after my own heart, thought Zengo.
But Pandini didn’t miss a beat. “Yes, even Frank’s Franks. As I stand here, Frank himself is working with my expert chefs to reformulate his hot dogs to be healthy and nutritious—”
The crowd moaned its disapproval.
“AND delicious!” said Pandini. “You won’t taste the difference—but you’ll feel the difference! They will be your hot dogs—better!”
The crowd recovered and cheered again.
Pandini leaned forward and gripped the edges of the podium. Even from behind him, from offstage, Zengo could see Pandini was about to get to the heart of his message. And he was going to make sure that every eye in the room was on him.
“And that is why, today, here at Kalamazoo City University, one of the finest universities in the world, I am proud to announce that from this day forward, for the protection of you, the future of our fair city, I will no longer be serving nut or nut-related products in any of my eating establishments!”
The crowd fell silent. Zengo was puzzled, and obviously they all were too. No nuts?
Pandini pulled some papers from his jacket pocket and waved them before the crowd. “I have been studying the rise of nut-related allergies in our city for years—one in three children born today is afflicted. How many of you fall into this category?”
Zengo was shocked when almost half the students, and even a few of the reporters, raised their hands. The crowd murmured.
Pandini continued. “And yet, virtually all this city’s restaurants continue to serve food laden with nuts. It accounts for hundreds of emergency room visits every year. That’s why I’m here today, to take a stand. And in my administration, not only will nuts be banned in my restaurants, they will be banned throughout Kalamazoo City!”
The clapping started softly but quickly grew into loud applause and cheers. Pandini had won them over. Was this his new strategy? To appeal to the youngest voters? Zengo had to admit that it was refreshing to hear someone who took young people seriously, for once. He found himself feeling a little proud, for reasons he didn’t quite understand.
That’s when Zengo noticed something that sent his heart racing. At the far end of the room, just by the main entrance, a bushy tail bobbed up behind the faces of the students. Was it possible? Was the assailant about to strike again?
Zengo didn’t hesitate for a moment. He jumped down from the stage and dashed across the hall, maneuvering once more through the dense crowd. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw that Detective Cooper was also on the run, headed in the same direction. Zengo sped up. No way he was letting the newbie nab this collar right from under his nose. That’s when he felt a sharp tug on his own collar. Cooper was trying to stop him.
“What are you doing?” coughed Zengo. He pushed her webbed hands away and looked to see the back of a bushy tail as it neared the door of the Student Union. The squirrel was escaping.
Running hard, Zengo managed to catch up. He grabbed the suspect by the shoulder and got right in his face. “Stop right there!”
“Sorry?” said the mild-mannered squirrel as he fixed his glasses. “I’m not certain I am following you. May I help you?”
Cooper, running at full speed, caught up with them. “Let him go, Zengo! He’s the dean of the university!”
“I, uh . . .” Zengo searched for the right words as he took in the squirrel before him. For one, he wasn’t even a flying squirrel. For two, he should have realized immediately that this guy was someone important, with his necktie and his little professorial glasses and his briefcase. He released his shoulder and looked down at his webbed feet.
Jo Cooper stepped up. “Dean Reynolds, how nice to see you again!”
“Ah, Ms. Cooper, how lovely! Is this a friend of yours here? What is the meaning of all this?”
“Just a little police work, sir. This here is one of Pandini’s staffers. It’s a real tough campaign, and they’re just trying to get out the vote with the rally here.”
Zengo opened his bill, but Cooper elbowed him in the ribs so hard he could barely breathe, let alone utter a word.
“Very well, then,” said Dean Reynolds. “It’s always exciting to see our students engaged with the political process. You’d do better to be a little less aggressive with your campaigning tactics, son.” The university dean straightened out his jacket and turned to leave. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I must attend a trustees meeting.”
“What was that about?” Cooper asked after Dean Reynolds had left, smacking Zengo on the side of his head.
“Why did you tell him I was a part of Pandini’s campaign? Do you really think—”
“Knucklehead! Do you want the university dean calling up Plazinski to chew out his squad? I just saved your tail!”
Suddenly, they heard screams coming from the Student Union. Cooper’s radio crackled to life. It was O’Ma
lley.
“Cooper! Cover the exits! Another attack was just made on Pandini! It was another flying squirrel!”
Cooper and Zengo immediately drew their boomerangs.
“I’ll cover the front,” said Zengo.
“Roger,” said Cooper. She radioed back to O’Malley, “We’re on it.” She sped off toward the rear of the building.
The blood raced through Zengo’s veins as he gripped the cold, metal boomerang and ran out the door. He held it aloft, ready to launch it at the sign of a threat. Zengo flinched at the sound of breaking glass above—someone had broken the skylight. He saw a shadowy figure emerge onto the roof and spread its gliders to dive off, bushy tail and all.
“Platypus Police Squad! Freeze!” Zengo shouted.
The flying squirrel didn’t flinch. Zengo had no choice. He closed one eye and launched his boomerang at the squirrel. It sliced through the air like a razor and clipped the perpetrator’s wing flap. But he took off anyway, gliding toward a nearby treetop. Zengo caught the boomerang on its return and raced to the tree. But the squirrel had the advantage and was soon out of boomerang range, gliding from tree to tree, making a quick escape.
O’Malley and Cooper were soon by his side, O’Malley operating the walkie-talkie to summon Diaz and Lucinni to join the pursuit. He looked at Zengo. “What are you doing here?” he said. “Go check on Pandini!”
Of course he was right, but Zengo hated to admit it. He turned tail and ran back into the Student Union. The crowd was in a panic. Pandini had not been hit, evidently, but had fallen over onto his bad arm. And the pesky reporters were still shoving their way up to the front. Bobby was doing all he could to hold them back.
When Myers caught sight of Zengo he was furious. “Where have you been?” he snapped. “You were supposed to PREVENT this from happening! What is WRONG with you?”
Zengo was too flustered and out of breath to reply, so he hung his head and tried to resume his position by Pandini’s side. Pandini gave him a cold glance, then returned to the crowd. “There’s nothing to worry about!” he shouted. “I’m okay!”
Last Panda Standing Page 4
