by Ted Staunton
Marty Raymond rolled his eyes. CC walked to the work table. I tried to look casual as I looked around for … what? I didn’t know.
Marty Raymond said, “A king cobra? Look, you really want a constrictor, I can get you a ball python for cheap — fifty to eighty bucks. But I’m not recommending it. Why not bring him down, show him some green iguanas, a chameleon. Start small. We’ll set him up with a couple terrariums, misters …”
I walked out front. A ball game murmured from a portable radio. The old guy was glumly showing an iguana to a muscle-bound guy with sleeve tattoos. A terrarium beside me was labelled Chameleon. I looked in and finally spotted it, exactly the colour of the tree bark it was clinging to. There were no robbery notes tucked in the plant leaves. Next door, the label read Anaconda. The snake was thick as a firehose. It also had a big lump in its middle. Would CC think it was a stash of stolen money? I moved on. Beside Chester the caiman, a monitor played Zal’s video of the capture. Next was Bob, the milk snake from Ms. Khalid’s.
It was all weird, but in a normal way. There was nothing to find, because Marty Raymond was innocent. I turned to get CC. Marty Raymond came out behind me, saying, “That’s fine. Ask for Marty,” and beeped off the phone. “You met Hank?” He nodded at the old guy. “Old buddy in the trade. He runs the shop when I’m doing community outreach. Didn’t expect to see you here.”
“It’s okay,” I lied.
“Glad to hear it, Duncan. You gonna help CC? She’s just getting started.”
“Well, ah, I just wanted to look around first.” Dumb. World’s Best detectives always knew what to say.
“Cool with me. I’ve got a few minutes. Let me show you around.”
“Oh, that’s okay, I—” Then I remembered I was supposed to be keeping Marty Raymond busy. I clammed up and followed.
He opened some of the terrariums. The water monitor’s back felt dry and pebbly, like a basketball. The python was named Gloria. Her scales felt almost fake, like soft plastic. Her four rows of teeth looked totally real. I didn’t touch those. I was glad when Marty Raymond put her away. We turned to the anaconda. I said, “Maybe it’s sick. It looks as if it’s got something stuck in it.”
“Naw, Slim’s fine. That lump is a meal he’s digesting. It takes a while.”
“What does he eat?”
“Frozen rats. Well, I defrost them first.”
I was sorry I’d asked. He smiled. “It’s all food, not that much different than eating dead cow. Like I said at your day camp, mostly we fear things ’cause we don’t understand them. Look here.”
The sign on the terrarium read Poison Dart Frogs. It took a while to spot the little green-and-black frogs under the plant leaves. Marty Raymond said, “In the Amazon, native people take the toxin from these critters and smear it on the tips of their arrows. It’s a paralytic, fatal.” He lifted the lid on the terrarium. I stepped back. “But these guys are actually harmless. The toxin doesn’t come from the frogs. It comes from a kind of ant they eat in the wild.” He took the top off a pill container and shook a couple of black pellets into the terrarium. “I feed ’em crickets. No ants, no toxin, no trouble. Environment means a lot.”
As we talked, Hank shuffled in and out of the backroom, piling things on the front counter. CC wouldn’t be liking that, but I was sure there was nothing for her to find anyway. I started to relax. Marty Raymond said to the muscle-bound man, “Buying ol’ Betty? An iguana makes a great pet. Affectionate as all get out. Ride your shoulder, watch TV.”
CC came out of the backroom with an armload of rope and tubing. “I just remembered,” she called to Marty Raymond, “I have my harmonica lesson. We can take this with us and make some at home, okay? I’ll bring them in really soon.” CC hustled me out the door.
“Do you really have a harmonica lesson?”
“Trumpet.”
“I thought it was saxophone.”
“That was before banjo. Anyway, it doesn’t matter, it’s not till tomorrow. I can’t do a good search with the old guy barging in all the time. We’ll have to come back when there’s only one of them there.”
“Sorry,” I said. “I couldn’t keep them both out. You didn’t find anything, did you?”
“Well, no loot or anything, but there was one strange thing. On the desk there was a passport and a plane ticket to Mexico. The picture in the passport looked kinda like Marty but it was hard to tell because there was no beard or moustache.”
“So?”
“The name in the passport was different. It said Lamar Del Ray.”
CHAPTER 19
Bandits Bounce
“We better get Zal,” I said, and took off on my bike. I didn’t answer any of the questions CC called at me, just yelled back, “I’ll tell you there.”
She was steamed by the time we got to Zal’s. He was in the garage, flicking cards at a Styrofoam board. When he got it right, they’d stick in like ninja stars. Most were on the concrete floor. “What did you find?” he asked.
“Tell him,” I ordered CC.
She scowled at me and told. “I got a picture of the passport,” she finished. “It’s not very good because the old guy came in just as I was taking it.”
She pulled out her phone and showed us. CC was right. Her hand holding the passport open had gotten in the way as she tried to show two pages at once. Most of the photo was chopped off: from the nose down, it could have been a clean-shaven, short-haired Marty, or not.
“Lamar Del Ray,” Zal said slowly. “I know that name from somewhere.”
I shook my head. “Doubt it. He’s a guy who works at Aurora B with my Aunt Jenn. He has a beard and moustache too. That picture might be either one of them, shaved.”
“The picture looked like Marty,” CC insisted. “Sort of. I only got a glimpse.”
Zal said, “So Marty Raymond either has this Lamar guy’s passport or a fake one with his own picture in it. But why? What’s it got to do with the Bandit?”
I sighed. “I don’t know, but I can tell you this much. My Aunt Jenn knows Marty from way back. She says he’s trouble, and I’m not supposed to see him. I don’t know the connection to Lamar Del Ray. I only met him once, when he delivered to our building. I didn’t like him. Aunt Jenn said she felt sorry for him.”
I leaned in close. “But here’s the thing: Remember you said how Marty Raymond showed up late the day we caught the caiman? And there was a bank robbery right before? Well, I saw Lamar Del Ray the same day. He zoomed into the park in Aunt Jenn’s car, and later I saw Aunt Jenn driving it out of the park. She said he borrowed it for a job interview. But what if he didn’t go for a job interview? What if …”
“He robbed a bank,” CC finished for me. “And met Marty. Or Marty handed off to him. He’s got a beard and moustache?”
I nodded. “And he has, like, a leather cowboy hat. Wide brim.”
Zal whistled. “The Bandit Brothers.”
“The Twin Thieves,” CC put in. “No, the Thief Twins.”
“They don’t look that much alike,” I corrected. I had kind of hoped telling about Lamar Del Ray would somehow help to clear Marty Raymond.
“Either way,” Zal said, “we have another suspect. We have to find out about this guy and how he connects to Gator Aid. Does your Aunt Jenn know where he lives?”
I shrugged. “She gave him a lift partway home once.”
“You guys,” CC snorted. “That’s why I tried to photograph two pages of the passport. The other has an address.”
We huddled over her phone. CC fiddled with it. “Three sixteen Pacific Avenue,” Zal read out. A quick check told us it was the other side of Oakwood Park. We got permission to go ride the Trails. We told ourselves that straying a block or two past the other side wasn’t going to make much difference.
“What’ll we do if he’s there?” I wondered as we pedalled.
“Nothing yet,” said CC. “We just need to know where he is so we can tail him if we have to. If he’s not, maybe we could search the p
lace.”
“What?”
“Can’t you guys ride any faster?”
CHAPTER 20
Aurora B Bounce
The address was a tall, skinny old house on a street of tall, skinny old houses, crowded with locked bikes, recycling bins and parked cars. A wire fence marked off a scraggly patch of grass and weeds. A hand-lettered sign, Rentals Available, curled on itself in the blank picture window. Junk mail overflowed three letter boxes. I imagined Wiley Kendall shaking his head.
The gate creaked as CC unlatched it. We crowded up the cracked concrete walkway.
“What will we do if he’s here?” Zal repeated my question.
The only answer he got was a long, low growl. A big black dog stalked around the corner of the house, ears back, hackles up. I felt the hairs on my own neck prickle the same way.
I don’t know what kind of dog it was, but it seemed just smaller than a horse. It growled again, deep in its throat, then gave a thunderclap bark and took a step toward us. I took a step back.
“Freeze,” CC said to us. “Stand straight. And don’t make eye contact. I’m on this.”
We froze. “Hey fella,” CC said in a soothing voice. “How are you, big guy?” She reached in her pocket. The dog took another step, still growling. He barked again and I flinched. CC’s voice went on, “I bet you could use a little snack, couldn’t you?”
“Don’t give him ideas,” Zal croaked.
“Shut up. Look away. What do you say, fella, a little treat go good now? Huh?”
I heard the dog’s collar clink as he came closer, still growling. I looked up at the saggy line of the porch roof and tried to hold still. It was tough, let me tell you.
“You could chew on Dunc or Zal, but I bet you’ll like these better,” CC coaxed. More growls. Something pattered to the ground. There was snuffling, then an unpleasant crunching. I risked a look. The dog swallowed. He looked expectantly at CC. His ears had come forward and his neck hairs were down.
“Sure, I’ve got another,” she said. “I told you you’d like them. Those guys are too skinny anyway.”
She held out something. The dog gobbled it down. “Stay still till he gives us the sniff test,” CC said quietly. “Then we’re good.”
There was a lot of steam-engine panting as the dog circled us. “That’s my boy,” CC said. “You’re just a big pussycat, aren’t you? Can you sit for me? Sit.”
As she talked, the front door of the house jerked open. A stout lady in pink shorts stepped out. The dog bounded over. “What’s all this? Whaddya want?”
“We were just saying hi to your dog, ma’am,” CC said brightly.
“What? Spig up.” Somewhere inside the house a TV was blaring.
“JUST SAYING HI TO YOUR DOG,” Zal bellowed, probably in relief. The dog wheeled and started to bark.
“Shut up, Zal,” hissed CC.
“Shut up, Rex,” said the stout lady.
“Actually, ma’am,” CC walked to the porch, “we were looking for a friend of ours who lives here. Lamar Del Ray?”
“What? Who?”
“Lamar Del Ray. We thought he lived here.”
“No Monterey here. Never has been. Last tenant was a Murray.” The stout lady jerked her head at the empty window. Her yellow hair was in curlers.
“Really?” CC stepped up on the porch. “My drum teacher is named Murray.”
“Different Murray. Wasn’t a gym teacher. Worked in a pet shop. Anyway that was a month back. Long gone. And didn’t pay his hydro, neither.”
“Well, sorry to disturb you,” CC said. “Guess we got it wrong. Nice meeting you, Rex.” She patted the dog’s head and slipped him another something.
Rex trotted after us to the fence. It wasn’t until CC fastened the gate behind us that Zal and I let out our breath. We got our bikes. CC tossed something to Rex. Gobble, gobble, gobble. “What is that stuff?” I said to her as we got on our bikes.
“Doggie treats.”
“Why do you have a pocketful of doggie treats?”
“For times like this.” CC shrugged. “Doesn’t everybody?”
Zal saved me answering. “That was useless,” he sighed, pushing off on his bike. “And ridiculously scary.”
“Says you,” CC sniffed, keeping up. “I got a look in the window when I was on the porch. The only thing in the room was a cowboy hat. We were on the right trail, just too late.”
I could only think of one thing to do. We talked over the how-to, then CC handed me her phone. My hands shook a little as I punched in the number for Aurora B. I crossed my fingers that Aunt Jenn wouldn’t answer. She didn’t.
“Is Lamar Del Ray there, please?” I went for a Wiley Kendall kind of voice.
“Who?”
“Lamar Del Ray. Is he on today?”
“Lamar Del— Hang on, I’ll check.” I heard muffled voices, then, “Sorry, no one here by that name.”
“Oh. Well, I just need to check his address. Will he be in tomorrow?”
“Nope. Far as I know, never had anyone by that name working here. Can someone else help?”
“No, that’s okay. Thanks.” I clicked off. I handed CC her phone back and told the others. We had another mystery on our hands.
As if we needed more complications, Zal said thoughtfully, “That lady back there didn’t hear very well. What if ‘Murray’ was really ‘Marty’?”
CHAPTER 21
Bye-Bye Bounce
“Duncan, I’m worried about your Aunt Jenn.” Wiley Kendall had me cornered as he helped me gas up the lawn mower the next afternoon. It was favourite-chat time again.
“She’s okay. Do I keep pouring?” The gas container was heavy.
“Keep it coming. She’s working too much, Duncan. All the time. She’s moody. I think she’s losing weight.”
“She says it helps her keep her girlish figure.”
“Her figure’s always … sensational.” Wiley Kendall’s face got red and he busied himself screwing the cap back on to the gas tank.
I changed the subject. Fast. “Do we start the lawn mower now?”
“Put the nozzle back in the container and cap it. How much this SI school cost?”
“Twenty-five thousand dollars.”
“Twenty— A year? It better be a darn good school. And don’t you let her down.”
I pressed the priming button three times, then yanked hard on the cord. The motor caught, barely. Wiley Kendall watched me cut the first couple of passes. I was glad when he left, and of the lawn mower’s racket. It meant I didn’t have to talk to anybody.
Things were definitely not going as planned: Marty Raymond a Borsalino Bandit suspect; Aunt Jenn saying he was bad; and now Lamar Del Ray was in it. Somehow. At least he was a suspect I preferred but, like I said, a whole other mystery himself, and maybe the key to the whole thing.
My only lead was whatever Aunt Jenn knew, and that just made things worse. Finding out was tricky because I couldn’t let on I was trying to find out.
The night before, I’d waited until she’d poured an iced tea, then looked up from World’s Best and asked, as if I’d just thought of it, “Oh, hey, we were biking this aft and I thought I saw Lamar Del Ray. Where does he live? Remember you gave him a lift home one time?”
“Only partway, hon.” She turned to put the pitcher of tea back in the fridge. “Where were you?”
“By Oakwood Park.”
“Well, I dropped him over to Glendale Mall that time. That’s the other direction.” Aunt Jenn sipped her tea. “Though he wasn’t working today. He’s only part-time.”
“He didn’t get the job he applied for?”
Aunt Jenn looked blank for a moment.
“When you loaned him the car?” I reminded.
“Oh. Right. Guess not. Or maybe … I think it was only part-time too.”
What? So why did Aurora B Nurseries say they’d never heard of Lamar Del Ray? Did whoever I’d talked to not know all the part-timers? Or was Aunt Jenn lying? And if she wa
s lying, why? I didn’t even want to think about that. I thought instead about my own lies to her. Did this run in families? That was another question.
There were so many questions now I couldn’t keep track of them all, let alone give them answers. World’s Best mysteries weren’t like this. They were puzzles that unfolded neatly. I didn’t feel like the smart detective. I felt like the bumbling cop.
As I cut the parking-lot edge of the lawn, CC rode up and started yelling. I let go of the throttle, and in the sudden quiet I heard, “—gone. That Hank guy says—”
“What? Who’s gone?”
“Marty Raymond is gone. That Hank guy wouldn’t say where. Didn’t know when he’d be back, either. Just said it was business. I’ll call Zal. Come to my place soon as you’re done.”
CHAPTER 22
B&G Bounce
CC, Zal and her dog Roxy were sitting in her family’s bass boat when I got there. The boat was on a trailer parked in the driveway, beside their RV. CC had put the canopy up for shade. Roxy barked a hello. I climbed in and CC opened a cooler and handed me a freezie. I needed one.
She’d already told Zal her news. I told what I’d found about Lamar Del Ray. “Maybe he lives over by Glendale now,” I finished.
“I wonder if he ever lived on Pacific,” Zal said. “Or if Marty Raymond did. And I wonder where Marty lives now.” He shifted in his trolling seat. Roxy put her head in his lap. Roxy was a big golden Lab, and gentle as all get out. Zal patted her but he looked comfortable as a worm on a hook.
“I think Marty lives in back of Gator Aid. There was a sleeping bag and air mattress and stuff there,” CC said, slurping her freezie.
She tugged Roxy back into the shade and the dog flopped down. CC’s shoes were off. Her snake stick was beside her. I crunched some ice, remembering the backroom of the store.
“Hmm,” Zal nodded. “I found some things too.” He left us hanging while he methodically rolled up the freezie sleeve to the bottom of what was left. CC groaned. Zal ignored her. “I said I knew Lamar Del Ray’s name? I remembered from where. I did a search on reptile smuggling after we were at Ms. Khalid’s. I didn’t find Marty’s case, but there was a news story from four years ago about this guy who got arrested at the border with fifty turtles in his sweatpants. Guess what his name was?”
