I sighed with disappointment. “So my debut as Master Thief was just smoke and mirrors.”
“Not at all. It was important that the heist looked authentic and not staged. Your breaking through the carpet store’s wall and using the vacuum cleaner was great. When Rand heard about it, he thought I was some sort of criminal genius. Wanted me to do some more heists for him.”
“What about Officer Crane at school?”
“Yeah, I told him to go at you hard. I wanted the rumor that I was involved to get started there. That way, if Rand checked, he would have more confirmation that I robbed the place.” He paused to give me a stern look. “I also wanted him to scare you a little, to let you know that breaking into places isn’t a game. It has real consequences. And those consequences aren’t fun.”
I was about to protest that I wasn’t an idiot, when suddenly my phone buzzed. It was a text from Theo with the information I’d asked for. I smiled. Now I knew the final piece of the puzzle.
THE CONFESSIONS OF JAX RICHARDS, UNDERCOVER COP
JAX reached over and mussed my hair. “I have to admit, you scared the crap out of me when you sent that text. ‘I know everything.’ Pretty melodramatic, dude.”
“Got your attention.”
“Yeah, speaking of that. How’d you figure it all out? I know you didn’t call the CHP, because they would have denied I worked for them.”
“No, I didn’t know anything for sure. I just had suspicions. I guess in the end it was more about who you are, Jax. The whole dropping out of Stanford Law School didn’t make sense. You’ve never quit anything. That’s not you. Neither is the gambling or the drinking or deliberately making Mom and Dad miserable. Not to mention lying to me.”
He frowned and shook his head sadly. “Sorry about that, Chris. That was the hardest part.”
“After I found out you’d never attended Stanford Law—”
“Yeah, about that. How’d you find out? The CHP went through a lot of trouble to build that alibi in case Rand checked me out.”
I told him about Theo’s calls to the university.
Jax laughed. “I’ll pass that along to my boss so they do a better job next time. Thank goodness Rand isn’t as smart as you and Theo. Go on.”
“So, after I realized you’d never been to Stanford, I wondered what you might have done during that time instead. Dad told me how much you hated injustice as a kid. ‘You’re out of order! You’re out of order! The whole trial is out of order!’ Remember that?”
“Yeah, of course. Al Pacino yelling at the judge and getting hauled off to jail for contempt. Classic scene.”
“I knew you’d still feel that way. You couldn’t have changed that much. So, I started looking at the little things. You’re in better physical shape than ever. That doesn’t go with being a heavy-drinking dropout with a gambling problem. But it does go with being a cop.”
He made a face. “Weak.”
“Agreed. But once I realized you wanted us to lose that game against the Undertakers, it raised a whole new set of questions. And the answers kept coming back to you still being a good guy pretending to be bad. Like a secret identity.”
“A little better,” he said.
“Finally, I knew you’d deliberately set off that alarm in the pawnshop. When I asked myself why you’d do that, everything fell into place. You were setting a trap.”
He thought about that, then said, “But you agreed to help me before the alarm, SP. How does your logic account for that?”
“It doesn’t. Except I knew you’d never put me in jeopardy unless you had a Get Out of Jail Free card. Never.”
“So it was pretty much blind faith.”
“Not blind. But faith in you. The Jax I knew.”
He looked straight ahead for a minute and I could see that he was choked up. Tears brimmed in his eyes.
I punched his shoulder. “Don’t get sentimental on me, copper.”
He chuckled.
“Anyway, you still don’t have the mastermind behind the garage burglaries and you don’t know how they’re doing it.”
Jax shrugged. “We’ll sweat it out of Rand. He’s not exactly a supervillain. Real bad guys usually can’t wait to rat out someone if it’ll help their own case.”
“I don’t think he’ll rat,” I said.
“Really, Batman? And why is that?”
“Because it’s not just about money. He has another motive.”
“What do you mean?”
I told him what I meant.
“Holy crap!” he said. “Maybe I acted too quickly.”
“Don’t worry,” I said. I told him my plan.
“Holy crap!” he said again.
I said, “The CHP really teaches you how to express yourself eloquently.”
He punched me in the shoulder. Hard. “How’s that for eloquent?”
I rubbed my shoulder. “I have another question.”
“Yeah?”
“How are you going to sedate Mom and Dad so you can tell them the truth?”
MOM AND DAD ARE GONNA FAINT
BACK to the kitchen:
“Miss me?” Jax said, kissing Mom loudly on the cheek. “You’re not getting out of this, Pop,” he said, and then kissed Dad on the cheek.
Despite their disappointment in what they thought was Jax throwing away his law career, they still couldn’t help but show their love for him under his playful embrace. Mom actually giggled.
“We’d better let them get to it,” Dad said, finding his Dad Voice. “Chris has a big test tomorrow and Hannah can only stay half an hour.”
“Ah yes, my almost prom date,” Jax said, smiling at Hannah.
“Jax,” Hannah said coldly.
“Hannah,” Jax said, mocking her serious tone.
Hannah looked at my parents for help. “We have twenty-five minutes left.”
Mom started to push Jax out of the kitchen. “Let’s leave them alone,” she said.
“Actually,” Jax said, “we’ll only need five minutes.” He pulled out a pair of handcuffs from his back pocket and dangled them in front of Hannah. “You’re under arrest, Hannah Selby.” He informed her of the charges and her rights as he cuffed her arms behind her back.
“I want to call my attorney,” she said.
“As soon as you get to the station,” Jax said, and he led her outside to the two cops waiting for her.
I didn’t pay attention to any of that. I was busy watching the wide-eyed expressions on Mom’s and Dad’s faces. They muttered a few sentences (“What are you doing, Jax?” “This isn’t funny, son!” “Hannah, what’s he talking about?”—stuff like that). But they ran out of steam pretty quickly. They looked pale and breathless, as if they were about to faint, so I held out chairs for both of them at the kitchen table.
They sat quietly for a moment, catching their breath and adjusting to the new reality.
“Do you know what’s going on, Chris?” Mom asked, the first to return to lawyer mode. Her voice was calm and steady.
“Let’s wait for Jax,” I said.
“Son,” Dad said sharply, “tell us what’s going on right now!”
“He’ll be back in a minute,” I said, holding firm.
They seemed too tired or stunned to fight me, so we just waited in silence.
A couple minutes later, Jax walked in and clapped cheerfully like a game-show host trying to pump up the audience. “All righty! Bet you have some questions?”
Actually, all things considered, what followed was pretty civil. Jax explained that he’d decided after graduating from college that law school wasn’t for him. He didn’t want to sit at a desk researching law cases, making backroom deals, working on cases that could drag on for months or even years. He wanted to catch bad guys and make the world safer right now.
“Why didn’t you just tell us that?” Mom said, a crack in her voice.
“Because you would have tried to talk me out of it. You would have presented a logical case with brilliant argume
nts. You would have told me that there were lots of good men and women who felt the way I did and who would make fine police officers. Then you’d point out that there were not many who had my test scores and grades and who would make first-rate lawyers. You would have told me that the work is dangerous and I might get killed. You would have reminded me of what that would do to the family. All of which is true. And I couldn’t take the chance of you talking me out of it.”
Mom and Dad swore that they would have been understanding. And I know they like to think of themselves as the kind of people who would have been understanding. But I don’t think they would have been. They were still the same nervous parents who stood in the pool and watched their toddler son (me) swim the four feet from one to the other, the water around them practically boiling from their anxiety.
Jax told them about his undercover assignment and how he had to pretend to be a drinking, gambling idiot. And how it had led to the arrest of a serious criminal. He’d left out the part about us robbing the pawnshop, his beating, and how he’d used me and my friends to lose the money.
That was a good call by him. Otherwise, we’d be using live electrical wires we’d yanked from a lamp cord to restart their hearts.
Eventually, the conversation got around to Hannah. Jax explained to them that she was the mastermind behind the garage burglaries.
Dad looked like Jax had karate-chopped him in the throat. Mom looked like she felt a tarantula crawling up her leg under her pants.
“Actually,” Jax said, “it was Chris who figured out that part. So, I’ll let him explain.”
MY BRILLIANT CHECKLIST OF CLUES
HERE’S basically what I told them:
Clue No. 1: Hannah had told Jax that she had attended the University of Arizona in Phoenix. Today, Fauxhawk/Rand was wearing a hoodie with a white A that is the symbol of the University of Arizona. Fauxhawk also said he’d played on a team called the Wildcats, which is the name of the U of A team. (Remember Jax saying, “Go, Wildcats!” to Hannah the first time she was at our house?) They are about the same age, so that could put them at the U of A in Phoenix at the same time.
Clue Grade: B–. Interesting, but not conclusive. After all, there are twenty-seven colleges with teams called the Wildcats. (I looked it up.)
“How did you know the A on his hoodie was from the University of Arizona?” Mom asked.
“I saw their basketball team play during March Madness. Remember, Dad?”
Dad nodded and said to Mom, “We did.” Then he gave me a little smile, like he was impressed. “How did you remember that?”
I shrugged. I didn’t know why I remembered the stuff I did (and forgot stuff about math equations and periodic charts right before a test). Somehow, when I thought back on the last few days, little inconsistencies floated in my mind like dead flies in a bowl of milk. And I would think about them until I figured out what was wrong.
Clue No. 2: Last night after tutoring, Hannah had nodded at my bruised face and said, “The Jax I knew in high school wouldn’t have let that happen.” At the time, I was touched by her concern. But later I remembered that I’d never told her that Jax was at the game. The only way she would have known is if Fauxhawk or one of the Undertakers had told her. She’d also said that the other team had disrespected me in “my house.” How did she know we’d played at the park? That made me think back to that first night, when she’d asked when Mom and Dad would be home from work, and when I’d be home from school. It was more like she wanted to know when the house would be empty.
Clue Grade: A–. Together with Clue No. 1, pretty solid.
Mom and Dad exchanged looks. Silent parental communication passed between them, like insects. Then Mom turned to Jax and scolded, “You bet on his game? Didn’t you think that betting might lead them to become more violent?”
Oops. I forgot that we hadn’t told them that part. Jax gave me a thanks-a-lot glare.
Dad laid a hand on Mom’s arm. “It’s done, sweetheart.” What he meant was: This kind of reaction is why Jax didn’t tell us anything in the first place. Mom nodded. What she meant was: We’ll wait until later before tearing into both of them.
Silent communication is pretty cool. I had the silent part down; now I needed to learn how to use it to actually tell people stuff. I guess it’s a parent-to-parent thing.
“Okay,” Mom said. Then she looked at me. “Not bad reasoning, Chris.”
“But it wouldn’t hold up in court,” Dad pointed out. “She could claim that you said it during your tutoring session. Or that she overheard it from another student she tutored. Classic case of he said/she said.”
Mom smiled at me. “Still, not bad.”
“There’s more,” I said, encouraged.
Clue No. 3: I’d asked Theo to find out the ages of the children in the homes that had been burglarized, because whenever someone mentioned stolen goods, they listed kids’ bicycles. Theo found out that each of the families had a child under ten. What’s one of the things young children have in common? Babysitters. Where do babysitters come from? High school, mostly. Theo called the burglary victims to ask if they could recommend any babysitters. After that he called the babysitters’ parents to ask if they could recommend any tutors. He got enough information to draw links between the burglary victims, the babysitters they used, and the person who tutored the babysitters: Hannah.
Clue Grade: A+.
Mom thought about that. “Wait a minute. So the babysitters pulled the burglaries? I thought the robberies took place when no one was home.”
“They didn’t commit the actual robberies themselves. They just made it possible for the real burglars to gain entry.”
“How?” Mom asked. “Did they steal keys?”
“No, that would’ve been too risky. They did something much more clever.”
I paused here for dramatic effect. I didn’t get many opportunities in a house full of really smart people to have my own “genius moment.” I was definitely going to make it last.
“Are we going to have to wait for the movie to find out?” Mom said.
“They didn’t need a key,” I said. “What they did do was steal the remote code to the garage door openers…”
[This next part is where I explained how they got those codes and used them to break in, which I’m sure as heck not going to tell you guys, because I don’t want you thinking, Hey, that would be fun, and getting arrested. Leave the Master Thief stuff to us professionals.]
“…and once Hannah had the code, she’d give it to Fauxhawk, and he’d program a new remote device to open the door when no one was home. He’d drive over in his van with the pool services sign on the side, and no one would suspect anything.”
“Babysitters,” Mom said, shaking her head. “Remember when I used to read those Baby-sitters Club books to you when you were little?”
“No,” I said. Of course, I did remember, but I wanted to stop Mom from ever bringing it up again, especially in front of my friends.
“This was the Evil Baby-sitters Club,” Jax said.
“But why would these babysitters do it?” Dad asked. “It’s not like we live in a bad neighborhood. These kids all come from good homes.”
“Crime isn’t always about background, Dad,” Jax said. “Hannah tutored dozens of kids, so she had a lot to choose from. She only needed a few bad apples. Those who were babysitting obviously needed money, so she picked kids who seemed especially troubled. She’d pay each a few hundred bucks to do something with very little risk. Thousands of kids shoplift every day. They take a much greater risk for a lot less reward.”
I didn’t say anything. My shoplifting adventure would stay between me and Brooke.
“But they’re kids,” Dad said, getting a little angry at the idea of someone using children to commit crimes.
“Exactly,” I said. “Easy for someone smart, like Hannah, to manipulate. And kids never think they’ll get caught.” Something I knew from experience.
“But how could Ha
nnah be sure they wouldn’t tell their friends, or get a bad case of the guilts and confess to their parents?” Dad asked.
“Guess she figured they didn’t want to go to jail any more than she did.”
“I get why kids might do it. Extra money. Maybe even the thrill of doing something unlawful,” Mom said. “But I don’t understand why Hannah would. She is pretty, smart, has—had—a good tutoring business…her master’s degree.” She made a face as if the idea was too bitter to hold in her head.
“She did it for the money, Mom,” Jax said. “Just like every other crook, from convenience-store robber to the white-collar billionaire. Tustin PD estimated they stole more than a hundred thousand dollars’ worth of goods. That’s a lot of tutoring hours.”
“I think she did it because she was Rand’s girlfriend,” I said. “They met in college, and when he started being a criminal, she helped him. Like a family business or something.”
“Such a waste,” Mom said.
I shrugged. I didn’t feel sorry for Hannah. She chose to help rob those families. She’d gone through all that education and came out with the conclusion that she deserved what others had by stealing it. Then I thought, Isn’t that what Master Thief thinks?
I shook my head, not wanting to think about that right now.
“You know, Chris,” Mom said, “I’m very impressed by your reasoning. Well done, son.”
“Well done?” Dad jumped out of his chair. “It’s better than well done. What my son did was nothing short of terrific! I can’t believe you put all that together yourself. You have the first-rate analytical mind of a lawyer, Chris.”
Not of a lawyer, I wanted to say, but of a writer. A comic book writer. But I said nothing.
“I say we all go out to dinner,” Dad said. “All this ‘well done’ talk has made me hungry for steak. Jax, you can fill us in on what you’ve been doing at the CHP.”
“Sorry, Dad. I have to go down to the station,” Jax said. “And our boy genius has other plans, too. He has to be somewhere by six.”
Stealing the Game Page 18
