~ * ~
“What are you doing up so early, Philip?” his mother asked next morning. “Put that phone down. It’s only eight o’clock, too early to bother Emery. His mother may still be sleeping.”
“He’s got two little sisters, Mom. He says his mother never sleeps.”
“Well, maybe.”
“He’s awake. I know he is.”
Just then Philip’s baby sister Becky gave a hungry screech from the living room.
“I’m coming. I’m coming,” Mrs. Felton called and walked quickly away, a bottle of warm milk in her hand.
Philip punched in Emery’s number and waited for him to pick up.
“Emery, you awake?”
“I’m talking to you, aren’t I?”
“You hear anything yet?”
“Nope. You?”
“Nope.”
“Well, if you do, call me again. I want to know.”
“Okay.”
The morning crept along oh so slowly. Philip tried to watch TV, but his mind wandered to Leon’s house. He thought about playing with Becky, but she dropped off to sleep as soon as she’d been fed. He went up to play Candy Crush on his computer, but couldn’t stay interested. Then the front doorbell rang.
Philip got on his hands and knees at the top of the steps so he could peek downstairs. His mother answered the door and stepped back in surprise. Officer Sandy entered.
~ * ~
Officer Sandy allowed Philip to call Emery, who showed up, out of breath, two minutes later. Philip could see his mother didn’t know what to make of a visit from the police, but he felt better when Officer Sandy assured her he wasn’t in any trouble.
“Can I please know what this is all about now?” Mrs. Felton asked when Emery arrived.
Officer Sandy briefly described Philip’s trip to headquarters two days before.
Philip kept his eye on his mother’s face until she turned his way. Then he spun his head in the other direction.
Officer Sandy continued. “The boys gave us the license number of the truck. Philip memorized three numbers, and Emery memorized three numbers.”
“Seven-four-two,” Emery cried proudly.
“We followed up and found out that a very suspicious character owned the truck, which made us believe a bit more what the boys had told us.”
“You didn’t believe us?” cried Philip.
“We always have to check our information,” explained Officer Sandy. “We would never think you’d lie to us, but anybody can be mistaken.”
Philip’s astonishment subsided, and Officer Sandy went on.
“So we did what Philip suggested. And sure enough, around two in the morning, the truck pulled into your friend Leon’s driveway. Two men, the truck driver and your Mr. Sorino, broke into the house through the back door and a few moments later carried out the new TV the family bought. We caught everything they did on tape.”
“They’re cooked,” Emery shouted.
Philip happily turned to his mother. “Mom, Mr. Sorino didn’t really want old TVs to fix. He didn’t really want broken stuff. He really wanted us to tell him who threw stuff away. He knew if somebody threw away like an old TV, it was because they just got a new TV. One he could steal. That’s what happened to that house a couple blocks over. Remember?”
“I remember. I remember,” Philip’s mother said, looking at her son in astonishment.
“We told Mr. Sorino about that house throwing away their old TV,” said Philip, his voice rising. “We even gave him the house’s address!”
“Tell them about your aunt’s pants,” said Emery.
“I knew they stole stuff because they stole Aunt Louise’s pants—the black satin pants.” He glared at Emery.
Emery sniffed dismissively. “You knew? I knew. I told you. You didn’t know anything. You kept telling me she sat in her pants.”
“If you didn’t explain it so stupid . . .”
“If you didn’t understand it so stupid . . .”
“Boys, boys,” interrupted Officer Sandy. “Philip, tell your mother about the stolen pants.”
Philip complied.
Emery jumped in the moment Philip stopped. “Then, when Leon told us about the new art set his mother bought for him, we figured out why Mr. Sorino wanted us to tell him about stuff we saw in the trash.”
“We figured out? I figured out,” Philip said hotly. “You didn’t know anything.”
“Yes, I did.”
“No, you didn’t.”
Officer Sandy cautioned the boys again. “Philip, tell your mother about the art kit.”
“Leon said he knew his mother got him a new art kit because he saw his old, used-up art kit in the trash. When he said that, I figured it out.” He tossed Emery a look. “Mr. Sorino wanted to know what people threw away, so he could figure out what they just bought. If they threw out the old TV, it meant they bought a new TV, and he went to steal it.”
Officer Sandy finished the story. “They would wait for the family to go out for the evening, and then they would strike. This Mr. Sorino would occasionally sell used goods to Pete’s Repeat Shop in the mall, so people wouldn’t get suspicious about why he was interested in everybody’s trash.” She rose. “I thought you might want to know how things turned out, Philip, Emery. Quite a boy you have there, Mrs. Felton. You too, Emery.”
Philip’s mother looked like she didn’t know where she was or what had happened. “Oh, yes, he is. For sure,” she managed.
“Oh, and rest assured,” Officer Sandy went on, “we’ll keep your names out of this, as I explained to the boys the other day.” She looked at Mrs. Felton. “For safety reasons.” Officer Sandy thanked the boys again and said good-bye.
Philip and Emery turned toward Mrs. Felton, who stared at them as if she didn’t recognize them.
“Safety reasons?” she repeated. “I have to call your father.” She went to the phone in the kitchen.
“Let’s get out of here,” said Philip.
They headed for Mrs. Logan’s bushes, where they spent the morning having a long and happy discussion.
Chapter Fifteen
Philip and Emery were in the playground late in the afternoon playing parachute, taking turns pushing each other high and jumping off the swing.
Behind them they heard, “Hey, guys. Wait’ll you hear. Somebody tried to steal my new TV, and the police caught them, and guess who it was!”
“Who?” Philip asked, trying hard not to look at Emery.
“Mr. Sorino! He was really a bad guy. A robber. A stealer.”
“Wow,” said Emery. “That’s something.”
Leon looked downcast. “Just when I was gonna make a lot of money, too, helping him.”
Dinner time was near so the boys began walking home, and Philip changed the topic. “How was Hershey Park?”
“Oh, man. Really great! But my mom said it would’ve been more fun if I had a friend along with me. Mom and Dad don’t like going on rides much. She said she’s gonna ask your mothers if you both want to go away to camp with me.”
“What?” Philip and Emery shouted together.
“Oh no,” cried Philip. “Emery, we gotta tell them no.” Both boys ran ahead.
“Wait,” called Leon. He took two small bags of silver-wrapped Hershey chocolate from his pockets. “I want to give you some Kisses.”
Philip and Emery stopped running and looked at each other, eyes wide in shock.
“Stay there,” Leon shouted, running after them. “Let me give you some Kisses.”
Philip and Emery started running again and didn’t look back once.
About the Author
Philip and the Sneaky Trashmen is John’s twelfth novel for Gypsy Shadow Publishing and the tenth novel of his award-winning series starring Philip and Emery. John also writes science-fiction and mystery novels for adults.
WEBSITE: www.johnpaulits.com
FACEBOOK: https://www.facebook.com/john.paulits
BLOG: http://johnpaulits.
wordpress.com/
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Philip and the Sneaky Trashmen (9781619502185) Page 6
