Emil and the Detectives (5 page)

H
E WOULD HAVE LIKED NOTHING MORE THAN TO RUN AFTER
the guy, plant himself in front of him, and shout, “Give me my money back!” But the man didn't exactly look like the type to answer, “Why certainly, my boy. Here you are. I promise never to do it again.” The problem wasn't so simple. The important thing now was to keep an eye on him.

Emil hid behind a big, broad-backed woman walking in front of him, and peered out on either side of her to make sure the man was still there and hadn't suddenly taken off on a long-distance run. The man, meanwhile, had made his way to the station's main entrance. He stood there, looking around and scanning the jostling crowd behind him as if he were searching for someone. Emil squeezed in behind the big lady as they got closer and closer to the man. What would happen now? In a minute he'd be walking past him, and then there'd be no point in hiding anymore. Maybe the lady would help him? But why should she believe him? And the thief would say, “Pardon me, ma'am, but do you think I look like someone who needs to steal from children?” Then everyone would look at Emil and say, “Some nerve! To badmouth a grown man like that! Young people today have no manners!” Emil's teeth were already chattering.

Luckily the man turned his head in the other direction and stepped out onto the sidewalk. The boy jumped behind the door in a flash, put down his suitcase, and peered through the latticed pane. Oh man, did his arm ever hurt!

The thief walked slowly across the street, looked back one more time, and kept walking, clearly reassured. Then a streetcar with the number 177 on it came rolling in from the left and stopped. The man thought for a moment then got into the front car and took a window seat.

Emil picked up his suitcase again and ran, ducking, back around the door and into the hall, found another door, ran into the street, and just as the streetcar was starting to move, he reached the trailer car. He threw his suitcase aboard, climbed up after it, shoved it into a corner, stood in front of it, and let out a deep breath. He made it!

But what would happen now? If the guy jumped off while the streetcar was moving, then the money was gone for good. There was no way Emil was going to jump off a moving streetcar with the suitcase. It was too dangerous.

All those cars! They rushed past the streetcar, their horns honking, beeping, red directionals sticking out left and right. They turned the corner, and other cars took their place. What a racket! And all the people on the sidewalks! Streetcars, horse-drawn carriages, double-decker buses on all sides! Newspaper vendors on every corner. Incredible window displays with flowers, fruits, books, gold watches, dresses, silk lingerie. And tall, tall buildings.

So this was Berlin.

Emil would have liked to observe it all at his own pace. But he didn't have time. In the front car was sitting a man who had Emil's money and who at any moment could get off and disappear in the crowd. Then it would all be over. Back out there, between the cars and people and buses, it would be impossible to find anybody. Emil stuck his head out. What if the guy had already taken off? Then he was riding the streetcar all by himself, without a clue where he was going or why. Meanwhile Grandma was waiting at the flower shop in Frederick Street Station, unaware that her grandson was cruising through Berlin on the 177, and was in a lot trouble. It was enough to drive you mad!

The streetcar made its first stop. Emil kept his eye peeled on the front car. But no one got off. Only a lot of new passengers pushed their way on. Past Emil, too. A man complained because Emil was sticking his head out the door and was in the way.

“Can't you see people are trying to get up the steps?” he growled.

The conductor, who was inside the streetcar selling tickets, pulled on a cord. A bell rang, and the streetcar took off again. Emil repositioned himself in his corner, got pushed back, got his feet stepped on, and with a shock he realized, “I don't have any money! If the conductor comes back here, I'll have to buy a ticket. And if I can't, he'll kick me off. And then I might as well dive off a cliff!”

He looked at the people standing around him. Maybe he could tug on one of their coats and ask, “Could you please lend me money for a ticket?” But their faces were so serious! One of them was reading a newspaper. Two others were talking about a bank robbery. “They actually dug a tunnel,” said the one. “They went in and cleared out all the safe deposit boxes. Apparently the damages run to several million marks.”

“But it will be enormously difficult to determine what was really in that vault,” said the other man, “since the people who rent the safe-deposit boxes were under no obligation to tell the bank what they had in their boxes.”

“Yeah, someone will probably claim he had a hundred thousand marks worth of diamonds, when actually it was just a stack of worthless banknotes or a dozen silver-plated spoons,” added the first man. They both chuckled.

“That's exactly what will happen to me,” thought Emil sadly. “I'll explain how Mr. Groundsnow stole a hundred and forty marks from me, and no one will believe me. Then the thief will say I'm being a smart-aleck, and that it was only three marks fifty. What a mess!”

The conductor kept getting closer to the door. Now he was standing in the doorway, shouting, “Who still doesn't have a ticket?”

He tore off large, white pieces of paper and perforated them with a hole-punch. The people on the running board gave him money and got tickets in return.

“So, what about you?” he asked the boy.

“I lost my money, sir,” replied Emil. No one would have believed him if he said he'd been robbed.

“Lost your money, eh? I've heard that one. Where are you going?”

“I… I don't know yet,” Emil stuttered.

“Well, then why don't you get off at the next stop and figure out where you want to go.”

“I'm sorry, I can't, sir. I need to stay here. Please.”

“When I tell you to get off, you have to get off. Got it?”

“Oh, give the boy a ticket!” said the man who had been reading the newspaper. He gave money to the conductor. And the conductor gave Emil a ticket and said to the man, “Do you have any idea how many kids ride the streetcar every day and claim they forgot their money? Afterwards they just laugh at us.”

“This one here won't laugh at us.”

The conductor returned to the inside of the car.

“Thank you so much, sir!” said Emil.

“Don't mention it. You're welcome.” said the man, turning back to his newspaper.

Then the streetcar stopped again. Emil leaned out to see if the man in the bowler was getting off. But he saw nothing.

“May I please have your address?” Emil asked the man.

“What for?”

“So I can return the money to you as soon as I have some again. I'll be staying in Berlin for a week, so I can stop by your place one day. My name is Tabletoe. Emil Tabletoe from New Town.”

“No,” said the man, “just consider the ticket a gift. Do you need any more?”

“Certainly not!” Emil insisted. “I wouldn't accept it!”

“As you like,” said the man and returned to his newspaper.

The streetcar went on. And stopped. Then kept going. Emil read the name of the beautiful, wide street. Emperor Avenue was its name. He had no idea where he was going to get out. There was a thief in the other car. And maybe other thieves were sitting or standing in the streetcar. No one paid him any attention. A stranger had just given him a ticket. But now he had turned back to his newspaper.

The city was so large. And Emil was so small. And not a soul cared why he had no money or that he didn't know where he was going. Four million people lived in Berlin, and not one of them was interested in Emil Tabletoe. No one was interested in anyone else's problems. Everyone had his or her own troubles and joys to deal with. And when people said, “Oh, I'm so sorry,” usually what they meant was, “Don't bother me!”

What would happen? Emil swallowed hard. And he felt very, very alone.

W
HILE
E
MIL WAS STANDING IN THE
#177
STREETCAR
,
RIDING
down Emperor Avenue without a clue where he would end up, Grandma and Pony the Hat, his cousin, were waiting for him at Frederick Street Station. They stood in front of the flower shop, right where they said they would be, and kept looking at the clock. A lot of people walked past, with suitcases and trunks and boxes and briefcases and bouquets of flowers. But Emil was nowhere to be seen.

“He's probably gotten a lot bigger, huh?” said Pony the Hat, pushing her little nickel-plated bicycle back and forth. She actually wasn't supposed to take it, but she whined for so long that Grandma finally said, “Oh go on, bring it along, you silly goose!” Now the silly goose was in a good mood and couldn't wait to see the look of admiration on Emil's face. “He'll think it's the best bike ever,” she said, and she couldn't have been more sure of herself.

Grandma was getting nervous. “I just wish I knew what was happening. It's already twenty past six. That train should have been here by now.”

She hemmed and hawed a few more minutes. Then she sent the little girl off to find out what happened.

Naturally, Pony the Hat took her bicycle with her. “Excuse me, Mr. Ticket Inspector, could you please tell me why the train from New Town is so late?” she asked the man with the hole-punch who was standing at the gate, making sure that everyone who wanted to go through had a ticket.

“New Town? New Town?” He thought for a moment. “Ah yes, 6:17. That train already got in.”

“Oh, that's really too bad, because we've been waiting over there by the flower stand for my cousin Emil.”

“Glad to hear it. Glad to hear it,” said the man.

“Why does that make you so glad, Mr. Ticket Inspector?” Pony wanted to know and gave the bell on her bike a few rings.

But the man just turned his back on the girl without answering her.

“You sure are weird!” Pony said. “Have a nice day!”

A few people laughed. The ticket inspector bit his lip in irritation. And Pony the Hat trotted back to the flower stand.

“The train already arrived, Grandma.”

“What on earth can have happened?” The elderly woman wondered aloud. “If he didn't make it on the train in the first place, his mother would have let us know.

Maybe he got off at the wrong station? But we gave him such detailed instructions!”

“I can't make heads or tails of it,” Pony declared, just like a grown-up. “I'm sure he got off at the wrong station. Sometimes boys can be really dumb. I bet that's what happened! Just wait, you'll see!”

And since they did not know what else to do, they started waiting again. Five minutes.

Another five minutes.

“This is getting pointless,” said Pony to her grandmother. “We can stand here until we turn blue in the face. Maybe there's another flower stand somewhere?”

“Go look and find out. But don't be long!”

The Hat took her bike again and scoured the train station.

Far and wide there were no other flower stands. Then she quickly interrogated two train station employees before she returned, very proud of herself.

“Well,” she began, “there are no other flower stands. Would be a little weird if there were. What else did I want to say? Oh, right, the next train from New Town gets here at eight thirty-three. Just a little after half past eight. So we should go on back home. And then at eight on the dot I'll ride my bike back over here. If he's not here by then, then he's getting a nasty old letter from me!”

“Watch your tongue, Pony!”

“I mean, he'll be getting a letter that's not very nice!”

Grandma made a worried face and shook her head.

“I just don't like the looks of it. I just don't like the looks of it,” she said. When she was upset, she always said everything twice.

They walked slowly back home. On the way, as they were crossing the Meadowbank Bridge, Pony the Hat asked, “Grandma, do you want to ride on the handlebars?”

“Shut your mouth!”

“Why? You're not any heavier than Arthur Zickler. And he rides on the handlebars all the time.”

“If your father sees that happen, he'll take that bike away from you for good!”

“Aww, I can't tell you people anything,” Pony grumbled.

When they arrived home—15 Schumann Street—Pony's parents—the Heimbolds—were in an uproar. Everyone wanted to know where Emil was, and no one could say.

Pony's father suggested they call and tell Emil's mother.

“Absolutely not!” exclaimed his wife, Pony's mother. “She'll die of shock! Let's just go to the station again at eight o'clock. Maybe he'll be on the next train.”

“Oh, I hope so!” moaned Grandma. “But I really must say, I don't like the looks of this. I just don't like the looks of it!”

“I just don't like the looks of it,” said Pony the Hat and shook her little head back and forth.

A
T THE CORNER OF
E
MPEROR
A
VENUE AND
T
RAUTENAU
Street, the man in the bowler hat left the streetcar. Emil saw him, picked up his suitcase and bouquet of flowers, told the man reading the newspaper, “Once again, thank you so much, sir!” and stepped down out of the car.

The thief walked around the front of the streetcar, crossed the tracks, and maneuvered toward the other side of the street. Then the streetcar drove off, and Emil could see the man standing there on the sidewalk, hesitating, then walking up the steps of an outdoor café.

Once again he would have to be on his guard. Like a detective on the lookout for fleas, Emil shrewdly oriented himself. He saw a newspaper kiosk and darted behind it. His hiding place, between the kiosk and an advertising pillar, was excellent. The boy put down his baggage, took off his cap, and peered out.

The man had taken a seat on the patio, right next to the railing. He was smoking a cigarette and seemed quite pleased with himself. Emil was disgusted that a thief could be happy at all, when the one he'd robbed had to go around sad and demoralized.

What sense did it make, ultimately, for him to hide behind a newspaper kiosk as if he were the thief and not the other guy? So now that he knew the man was sitting in Café Josty on Emperor Avenue, drinking a pint of beer and smoking cigarettes—what was the point? If the guy were to get up now, the chase could continue. But if he decided to stay there, Emil could go on standing behind the newspaper kiosk until he'd grown himself a long, gray beard. All he needed now was for a patrolman to turn up and say, “Son, you look like you're up to something. Come on with me and don't make a scene. Otherwise I'll have to cuff you.”

Suddenly Emil heard a loud honk right behind him. He jumped to the side, spun around, and saw a boy standing there, laughing at him. “Hey man, settle down!” said the boy.

“Who was that honking behind me?” asked Emil.

“That was me, of course. So I guess you're not from Wilmersdorf? If you were, you'd know I always carry a horn around with me. I'm like a circus freak in these parts; everyone knows me.”

“I'm from New Town. I just got here.”

“From New Town, huh? So is that why you're wearing that dumb suit?”

“Take that back! If you don't, I'll knock you out!”

“Whoa!” the other boy said cheerfully. “Are you crazy? This weather is way too nice for boxing. But sure, I'll fight you!”

“I'll have to take a rain check,” said Emil. “No time right now.” And he glanced back at the café, to see if Groundsnow was still sitting there.

“Looks to me like you have lots of time! Standing there with your suitcase and cauliflowers behind a newspaper stand, playing hide-and-seek all by your lonesome! You must have a good twenty, thirty yards of time to spare.”

“No,” said Emil, “I'm keeping tabs on a thief.”

“What? A thief?” said the other boy. “Who did he rob?”

“Me!” said Emil and was even proud of the fact. “In the train. While I was sleeping. A hundred and forty marks. I was supposed to give it to my grandmother here in Berlin. Then he slipped into another compartment and got out at Zoo Station. Of course, I was right on his heels. In the streetcar, too. Now he's sitting over there in the café, the one in the bowler, living it up.”

“Dude, that's so awesome!” shouted the other boy. “It's like in the movies! What are you going to do?”

“I have no idea. I guess for now I'll just keep following him.”

“Tell the patrolman over there. He'll bust him for sure.”

“I'd rather not. I pulled some stuff back in New Town. They may have it in for me. And if I—”

“I hear you.”

“And my grandmother is waiting for me at Frederick Street Station.”

The boy with the horn thought for a while. Then he said, “Listen, this thing with the robber is cool. It's awesome, actually! So unless you have a problem with it, I'd like to help out.”

“Wow, that would be great of you!”

“It's no big deal. Of course I'm game. By the way, my name is Gus.”

“And I'm Emil.”

They shook hands, and it was like they were already good friends.

“Let's go,” said Gus. “If we just stand around here, that rat will slip through our fingers. You have any dough left?”

“Not a cent.”

Gus honked a little, to get his thoughts going. But it didn't help.

“How about if you got a few more friends to come?” suggested Emil.

“Man, that's a great idea!” shouted Gus excitedly. “I'll do it! All I have to do is whistle and honk through the courtyards and we'll have a full house.”

“Do it!” said Emil. “But come back soon. Otherwise that guy will take off. And I'll have no choice but to trail him. Then when you get here I'll be miles away.”

“No worries! I'll be quick! You can depend on it. Anyway, Mousebait over there is eating Eggs Benedict and stuff like that. He's in no hurry to leave. So, see you later, Emil! Man, I am so psyched. This is going to be awesome!” And with that he zoomed off. Emil was incredibly relieved. Bad luck is bad luck, any way you cut it. But having a few pals to help you out always makes things better.

He kept his eyes peeled on the thief, who was enjoying his meal—paid for, no doubt, with Mom's savings. He was afraid of only one thing: The scumbag would stand up and run off again. Then he could just forget about Gus and the horn and everything.

But Mr. Groundsnow did him a favor and stayed put. Of course, if he'd had any clue about the conspiracy that was drawing around him like a sack, he would have ordered the first airplane out of there, at least. His situation was starting to get dicey…

Ten minutes later Emil heard the horn again. He turned around and saw at least two dozen boys, Gus in the lead, marching up Trautenau Street.

“That's all of us! So, what do you say?” asked Gus, beaming.

“Man, I'm really moved,” said Emil. He was so happy he poked Gus in the ribs.

“So, gentlemen! This here is Emil from New Town. I've already told you what the deal is. The dog who stole his money is sitting at that cafe. The guy on the right, with the black melon on his dome. If we let our friend over there get away, we'll all be wearing permanent dunce caps after tomorrow. You get me?”

“We'll get him, Gus!” said a boy with horn-rimmed glasses.

“This is the Professor,” explained Gus. And Emil shook his hand.

Then, one by one, the whole gang was introduced.

“So,” said the Professor, “let's get this show on the road! But first, your money!”

Everybody gave what he had. The coins dropped into Emil's cap. Someone even put in a whole mark. That was Tuesday, a very small boy who jumped excitedly from one leg to the other and who got to count the money. “Our capital,” he informed his anxious listeners, “comes to five marks and seventy cents. The best thing would be to divide the money three ways. Just in case we have to split up.”

“Excellent,” said the Professor. He and Emil each got two marks. Gus got one mark seventy.

“Thanks so much,” said Emil. “After we catch him, I'll give you the money back. So what do we do now? I'd really like to stash my suitcase and these flowers somewhere. They'll be in the way when the chase gets going.”

“Man, just give your stuff to me,” said Gus. “I'll take it over to Café Josty, leave it at the counter, and sniff out our friend the thief while I'm at it.”

“But watch your step,” advised the Professor. “That jerk doesn't need to catch on that detectives are on his trail. It'll make following him that much harder.”

“You think I'm dense or something?” Gus growled and took off.

“That guy'll make a great mugshot,” he said when he returned. “And your things are in good hands. We can pick them up whenever.”

“This would be a good time,” suggested Emil, “to plan our strategy. But not here. We're too visible.”

“Let's go to Nikolsburg Square,” suggested the Professor. “Two of us will stay here at the newspaper kiosk and make sure the guy doesn't slip away. Five or six will act as messengers and send word when the time comes. Then we'll rush back.”

“I'm your man!” Gus shouted and began organizing the messengers. “I'll stay here with the guards,” he said to Emil. “Don't worry! We won't let him out of our sight. But hurry up. It's already a little past seven. So, get going!”

He assigned the messengers to their places. And the others, with Emil and the Professor in the lead, moved to Nikolsburg Square.