Amos's Killer Concert Caper (3 page)

The music stopped short. Roy spun around to see what had happened just as a huge spotlight came hurtling down from the ceiling at him. Turning to look at Amos moved him sideways just enough to escape being hit as the spotlight smashed into the stage.

•
5

“Are you all right?” Dunc helped Roy to his feet.

“I think so.” Roy brushed pieces of glass out of his hair. “That was too close for comfort.”

“Sorry about unplugging your guitar cord,” Amos said. “I guess I got a little carried away.”

Roy looked at the heavy spotlight that was now lodged halfway through the stage floor. “I'm not sorry, Amos. If it hadn't been for you, I'd be dead meat right now.”

Amos strained, trying to lift the spotlight. “I wonder what caused it to fall?”

Dunc examined the part that was sticking up. “Look at this. The bolts are gone, and the wires have all been cut. This was no accident, someone intended for it to fall.”

Roy scratched his head. “Why would anybody want to do a thing like that?”

Dunc whipped a small note pad out of his shirt pocket and flipped it open. “Amos tells me you've been having a lot of unusual things happen to you lately.”

“That's true, but nothing like this. Unless you count the time in Los Angeles when the backdrop came loose and fell forward over the top of us.”

Dunc was writing furiously. “When did you first notice these strange occurrences?”

Roy rested his chin in his hand. “The first one was about a month ago, right before a concert. When our lead guitar player, Hairball, turned on his amp, we heard people talking on CB's. Someone had rewired his amplifier to pick up radio waves. We had to delay the concert.”

Dunc looked up. “Do you always travel with the same band?”

Roy nodded. “Yup. These guys have been with me from the start. So has our manager, Mange. He's the one who put us together and came up with the name.”

“Hmmm.”

Amos sat down beside Roy and sighed. “There he goes with that noise again.”

Roy raised one eyebrow. “Is that bad?”

“Depends on if you're his best friend or not. If you happen to have the misfortune of being his best friend, then it means he's about to get you in some serious trouble.”

Roy looked confused.

Amos waved his hand. “Don't worry about it. Dunc thinks he's some kind of junior private eye. He goes around digging up imaginary cases to solve.”

“This one doesn't sound so imaginary.” Dunc closed his notebook. “Somebody wants to put a stop to Raunchy Roy and Road Kill. And today they almost put a stop to Roy—permanently.”

•
6

“How should I word this?” Amos was at his desk trying to compose a letter to Melissa. His plan was to drop the letter and the ticket in her mailbox later that afternoon, ring the doorbell, and run away.

Dunc was sitting on the floor concentrating on a formula for solving the case. He had chosen the floor because right now it was the safest place in Amos's room. There were piles of stuff everywhere. Amos's mom had told him to get his room organized or else plan on living at the YMCA. So he decided
to put everything into piles according to size or possible use. He had a pile of paper wads for shooting at the trash, a pile of dirty socks, a pile of moldy food he was saving for Dunc's experiment, and several other piles that fell into the category of miscellaneous junk.

Dunc had to move the dirty jean pile next to the soda can pile before he could sit down. “Why don't you just tell Melissa that you have these tickets and ask her to go to the concert with you?”

Amos shook his head. “No style. I want this letter to really make an impression on her.”

“What do you have so far?”

Amos smoothed the piece of paper and cleared his throat. “ ‘Dear Melissa. How do I love thee? Let me count the ways. I love thee to the—' ”

“Hold it. I think that one's been done.”

Amos scratched his head. “Are you sure?”

Dunc nodded. “Pretty sure.”

“Okay then, I'll skip that part. How about this. ‘At enormous personal expense I have obtained this priceless ticket—' ”

Dunc stopped him again. “Amos, you didn't pay anything for that ticket. It was free.”

“Details.” Amos cleared his throat again. “Where was I? Oh yeah—‘to this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity—' ”

“Amos, it's not once in a lifetime. Road Kill is giving two concerts.”

“I know that. Give me a break. I'm trying to be creative here.”

“Is that what you call it?”

Amos scanned the letter. “ ‘For the experience of a lifetime, meet me at the civic center at six-thirty on Friday, and together we'll attend the social event of the year. I will be counting the seconds until we meet. Yours eternally. Signed, your adoring admirer.' ” Amos looked up. “Well, what do you think?”

Dunc tried not to smile. “I don't know. It may be too low-key.”

Amos studied the letter. “I didn't want to come on too strong. It might scare her off.”

“Why didn't you sign your name? How is she supposed to know who sent her the ticket?”

“Mystery.”

“I'm not following you.”

“I checked out this real informative book from the library called
How to Attract Girls in One Easy Lesson
. It said girls go nuts over stuff like this. They think it's romantic. When I meet her in front of the civic center wearing my black tuxedo with tails and carrying an armful of red roses, she'll know who sent the letter. Then we'll get engaged and pick out a china pattern.”

Dunc erased some figures on his note pad. “I didn't know you had a tuxedo. And where are you going to get the money for an armful of roses?”

“I'm not sure about the tux yet, but I've got the roses worked out. Mrs. McGillis down on First Street had a bumper crop of roses this year.”

“Amos, you can't just go pick some poor old lady's roses.”

“She gave me permission.”

“For a whole armful?”

“Not exactly. But she did say if I mowed her back yard, I could have a few.”

“I hope it works out for you.” Dunc turned his attention back to his notes. “Boy, this case has me baffled. So far I can't figure out any reason for somebody to be sabotaging the Road Kill band. What we need is more clues.”

“What we need is to let them solve their own problems. I know you. You're going to get us involved in some big deal and end up messing up my date with Melissa.”

Dunc put his hand over his heart. “Amos, would I put a case before my best friend's happiness?”

“In a heartbeat.”

“Okay, just to show you how wrong you are about me, I'll even go with you to put the letter in Melissa's mailbox.”

“Why?”

“Like I said, you're my best friend—and besides, Melissa's house isn't too far from the civic center. We can stop by there before we come home and see if we can dig up some more clues.”

•
7

“Do you think Melissa's dad bought any of that?” Amos pedaled up beside Dunc.

“I think you had him right up until the part where you tried to convince him you were a dwarf working for the post office.” Dunc stood on his pedals. “Too bad he had to come out of the house just as you were going through his mail.”

“I wasn't going through his mail. I was trying to put Melissa's letter in the middle of the pile so it wouldn't be so obvious.”

“It looked like you were going through his mail.”

Amos parked his bike next to Dunc's in the rack behind the civic center. “At least he took my letter. Do you think he meant what he said about stuffing me into the mailbox if he ever saw me near their house again?”

“Probably.”

Amos sighed. “Something like that could definitely put a strain on our future relationship as in-laws.”

Dunc turned the key in the back door of the civic center and pushed it open. “Looks like everyone's gone.”

Amos followed him through the door and down the steps to the stage. “That's because they all know how dumb it would be to spend your afternoon in a big empty building.”

“You go backstage and see what you can find. I'll look around out here.”

Amos climbed the stage steps and disappeared behind the curtain. In a few seconds
he poked his head back through the curtain. “What am I looking for?”

“Something that might help us figure out what's been going on around here.”

“Right.” Amos pulled his head back and looked around. The backstage area was sectioned off with partitions. In one corner the lighting and special effects were set up. In another corner the band's costumes and face paint were set out, ready for Friday's performance.

“This is so dumb.” Amos halfheartedly poked around in the lighting section. “What does he think we're going to find? A note with a signed confession?”

He moved to the makeup table. There were two half-gallon tubs of green and black face paint. “Boy, when these guys paint their faces, they get serious.”

Amos dipped his finger in the green paint and held it up to his nose. “Yechh! How can they stand to wear this stuff? It smells worse than Dunc's lab experiments.” He looked up at the mirror and noticed a
tiny green spot where his finger had touched the end of his nose. He wiped at it but succeeded only in spreading it around a little. The harder he rubbed, the worse it got. In seconds his nose was completely bright green.

“Dunc!”

Dunc raced up the stairs and pulled the curtain back. “Did you find something?”

Amos turned around. He looked like he had a small watermelon stuck in the center of his face.

“What did you—”

“Never mind. Help me get it off.”

“You need makeup remover.” Dunc picked up some of the jars on the table. “I don't see any. They must keep it on the bus.”

“A lot of good that does me. What am I supposed to do? Ride home like this?”

“We'll go the back way through the woods. Nobody will see you. When we get to my house, we'll use some of my mom's stuff to get it off.”

Amos headed for the door.

“Wait.” Dunc caught up with him. “I found something. It might be a clue.”

“Who cares? I have to get home before someone sees me like this and it ruins my reputation.”

“What reputation?”

“The one I'm never going to have if I go around with a zucchini nose.”

“It'll only take a minute.”

“Oh, all right. Where is it?”

“Right over here.” Dunc led the way to the edge of the stage. From the corner, tucked behind a speaker, he pulled a small toolchest with the name
Mange Roper
written across the top.

Amos made a face. “You call this a clue? Get serious.”

Dunc opened the box and took out a set of wrenches. “This is the clue.”