The Unwilling Umpire (4 page)

“How are you?” Ruth Rose asked.

Pete shrugged. “Fine,” he said in a soft voice.

“Do you have your allergy medication?” Dink asked.

Pete nodded his head toward a box of Aller-Green that stood on a small table.

“Officer Fallon really wants to help you,” Josh said. “He found you a good lawyer. Will you talk to her?”

Pete licked his lips again. “Look, I appreciate your coming, but I already
told them I took the balls,” he said.

“But you need a lawyer!” Ruth Rose said. “And we don’t think you took those baseballs, even if you said you did!”

Pete’s eyes widened, but he didn’t say anything.

“When you went to the clubhouse for your medicine, did you see anyone else there?” Josh asked.

Pete shook his head. “I stole the baseballs,” he muttered.

“But why won’t you tell Officer Fallon where they are?” Dink asked. “And why won’t you talk to the lawyer?”

Pete twisted in his chair so his back was to the kids. “Please just go away,” he said over his shoulder.

After a few seconds, the kids left. They walked back to Officer Fallon’s office.

“Any luck?” the police chief asked.

“He told us to go away,” said Josh.

“Thanks for trying,” Officer Fallon said. “Maybe Pete just needs more time to think.”

The kids left the police station and headed toward Main Street.

“Now I’m really confused,” Ruth Rose said. “It’s almost like Pete
wants
to stay in jail.”

“Something else has been bugging me,” Josh said. “If Pete did steal the balls, why didn’t he just hide them, then come back to the game? By leaving the way he did, he practically pointed a finger at himself.”

Ruth Rose rubbed her temples. “My brain is tired,” she said.

“Your brain needs peanut butter,” Josh said. “It’s a scientific fact that when your brain is stuck, you need something even stickier to get it unstuck! Peanut butter!”

Dink and Ruth Rose both shoved
Josh. But they were hungry, so they followed him to his house on Farm Lane.

Josh’s mother was in the kitchen, still dressed in shorts and sneakers. She was looking through the window at Josh’s younger brothers in the backyard.

“You made a great catch today, Mrs. Pinto!” Ruth Rose said.

Josh’s mother smiled at the kids. “It was just luck,” she said. “The ball came right to me. Any news about Mr. Pocket’s baseballs?”

The kids quickly told her what they’d learned about Pete.

“Goodness!” Josh’s mother said. “Pete Unkenholz seems like the most honest person in the world!”

She headed out of the room. “Will you watch the boys while I shower?” she asked Josh.

“Sure, and we’re gonna make sandwiches, okay?” Josh asked.

“Okay, and send your brothers in for their lunch in a few minutes,” his mother said as she climbed the stairs.

Josh made thick peanut butter sandwiches while Dink and Ruth Rose found the milk and three glasses.

They ate outside at the picnic table. Josh’s twin brothers were playing with his dog, Pal, on the lawn.

The two four-year-olds were tugging on one end of an old T-shirt. The other end was in Pal’s mouth.

The boys laughed and yelled. Pal growled and tossed his head back and forth. All three were covered with dirt.

“Mom’s gonna flip out when she sees what you’re doing to your shirt!” Josh yelled.

“It isn’t our shirt!” Brian yelled back.

“It’s yours!” Bradley chimed in.

Both boys burst into giggles and went running after Pal.

Dink and Ruth Rose laughed.

“Bye-bye, shirt,” Dink said.

“Probably one of my favorites, too,” Josh muttered.

Then he jumped up and nearly spilled his milk.

“Guys, there was a shirt at Pete’s trailer,” he said. “Outside on that chair.”

“We saw the shirt,” Ruth Rose said, licking peanut butter off her fingers. “So?”

“I picked it up,” Josh went on. “At the time I didn’t think anything about it. But now I realize that shirt is way too small to fit Pete. It must belong to someone else.”

“Like who?” Dink asked.

“I don’t know,” Josh said. “But if Pete’s not talking, maybe we can talk to whoever owns that shirt!”

“If we can find him,” Dink said.

“Or her,” Ruth Rose added.

“Pal might be able to help,” Josh said. He whistled, and his dog came trotting from behind the barn, quickly followed by Brian and Bradley.

Pal flopped on the ground and plopped both front paws on top of the wet, filthy T-shirt.

“Mom wants you guys inside for lunch. And you’d better wash your
hands,” Josh told Brian and Bradley. “They’re gross!”

“Uh-uh, they’re clean!” Bradley said. He and his brother held up four dirty hands.

Josh leaned toward his little brothers. “Mom’s making you a surprise for lunch!” he whispered.

“Yay!” screamed Brian, heading for the door.

“Wait up!” yelled Bradley as he raced after his brother.

“Come on,” Josh said to Dink and Ruth Rose. He clipped Pal’s leash to his collar and tossed the ruined T-shirt onto the picnic table. Then they all headed back to the campsite.

Five minutes later, they saw the trailer. Pal spotted a squirrel and began barking and tugging on the leash.

The squirrel dashed up a tree as the kids approached the trailer.

“Nobody’s here,” Ruth Rose said,
glancing around the clearing.

“Well, someone has been,” Josh said, pointing to the lawn chair. “The shirt is gone!”

“I wonder who took it,” Dink said.

Ruth Rose climbed the steps and knocked on the door. “Anyone in there?” she called out.

The trailer remained silent. Pal sniffed the ground near the chair, then began whimpering. He sat facing the trailer and wagged his tail.

“Pal smells someone,” Josh said.

“Should we wait around?” Dink asked.

“I can’t think of anything else to do,” Ruth Rose said, sitting on an aluminum step. “The game is canceled, Mr. Pocket’s
baseballs are missing, and Pete’s in jail.”

Suddenly the trailer door burst open. A boy appeared with a wild look in his eyes. He resembled Pete Unkenholz, only a lot younger. His blond hair was messed up and he was wearing the flannel shirt.

“What do you mean, ‘Pete’s in jail’?” the kid demanded.

Pal let out a low bark. “Hush, Pal,” Josh said.

Ruth Rose was so startled she jumped off the steps. “Who … who are you?” she stammered.

The boy shook his head. “You first. Who are you guys?”

Dink took a step toward the boy. “I’m Dink and these are my friends Josh and Ruth Rose,” he said.

The boy studied the group. “I saw you at the game,” he said, raking a hand through his hair. “I’m Buddy, Pete’s brother. Is he really in jail? Why?”

“He stole … I mean, the cops think he stole some valuable baseballs,” Josh said.

Buddy just stared with his mouth open. “The baseballs in that glass case,” he said. “Pete showed them to me before the game started. But he didn’t take ’em. My brother wouldn’t steal a penny.”

“But he confessed,” Dink said.

Buddy came through the door and flung himself down on the top step. “He must be lying for me so the cops won’t think I stole the balls.”

Dink stared at Buddy. He looked around fourteen years old. His eyes were red, as if he’d been crying. “Did you take them?” Dink asked.

Buddy shook his head. “Heck, no,” he muttered. He swallowed and took a deep breath. “But Pete must think I did.”

“Why would he think that?” Ruth Rose asked.

“Because I was teasing him before
the game,” Buddy said. “We were both looking at the balls, and I said something stupid like ‘I’ll bet we could get a lot of money for these.’”

Buddy looked up. “It was just a joke. Pete’s fun to tease,” he said. “Anyway, I saw Pete leave the game to go after his medicine. When he didn’t come back, I went inside to see if he was okay. But Pete wasn’t there. The glass case was busted and the balls were missing. I figured Pete must have thought I stole ’em and came to the trailer looking for me. So I ran back, but Pete wasn’t here.”

“Officer Fallon picked up Pete in his truck,” Dink said. “That’s when your brother said he took the balls.”

“Yeah, to keep me out of trouble,” Buddy muttered. “Just like he did before we left Maine.”

“What happened in Maine?” Ruth Rose asked Buddy.

“Something really dumb,” Buddy
said. He stared into the trees that surrounded the clearing.

“Pete and I live together because our folks died in a car crash a few years ago,” Buddy said. “Ever since then, I keep messing up and Pete keeps trying to get me out of trouble.”

Buddy scooted down the steps and reached out to pet Pal. The dog licked Buddy’s hand and rolled over on the ground.

“Last winter I was hanging out with my friend Fizzo,” Buddy said. “Pete doesn’t like Fizzo. Says he’s a bad influence on me. Anyway, it was cold, and we saw this delivery van in the alley next to Sugar’s Bakery. The engine was running, and Fizzo says, ‘Let’s sit in it to get out of the cold.’ We sat there for a few minutes, smelling the warm bread. Next thing you know, Fizzo’s driving the van.”

Buddy looked up at Dink, Josh, and
Ruth Rose. “It was just supposed to be a joke on Mr. Sugar,” he said. “Fizzo wanted to park the van around the corner, for laughs. Only the road was icy, and the van slid into a snowbank. Fizzo got out to try to shove us free. I slipped behind the wheel to put the van in reverse. That’s when the police came, and we got busted.”

“So … Pete didn’t take the van?” asked Ruth Rose.

“No way!” Buddy shouted. “I told you, my big brother’s the most honest guy in the world.”

Buddy stroked Pal’s silky ears. “Anyway, Fizzo and I are at the police station, scared to death,” he continued. “I called Pete and told him what happened. Five minutes later, he came flying into the police station.”

Buddy shook his head. “I still can’t believe what happened next. Pete lied, probably for the first time in his life. He
told the police officers he was the one who drove the van into the snowbank. Pete said, ‘The whole thing was my idea. I took the van, not my little brother or Fizzo.’”

The three kids just stared at Buddy.