Emil and the Detectives (7 page)

T
IME PASSED SLOWLY
.

Emil went to see the three look-outs and offered to relieve one of them. But Crumbagel and both of the Middledays said they were staying. Then Emil went all the way up to Hotel Kreid itself to check out the situation. He came back to the courtyard all excited.

“I have a feeling,” he said, “that something's going to give. We can't just leave the hotel for a whole night without a spy in there, even with Crumbagel at the corner of Kleist Street. All he has to do is look in the other direction and Groundsnow can vanish into thin air.”

“That's easier said than done,” said Gus. “We can't just go to the porter and say, ‘Listen up, Boss, we're hanging out on these steps here whether you like it or not.' And you aren't stepping one foot in the hotel. The minute that jerk looks out his door and sees you, the game is up.”

“That's not what I mean,” answered Emil.

“Then what do you mean?” asked the Professor.

“In the hotel, there's this kid. He's in charge of the elevator and stuff like that. Let's say one of us goes and tells him what's up. Well, he's got to know the hotel like the back of his hand. He could help us for sure.”

“Very good,” said the Professor. “Excellent, in fact!” He had a funny habit. It was always like he was giving grades to the others. That's actually why they called him the Professor.

“Man! Another idea like that and we'll give you an honorary degree. Emil's so smart, you'd think he was from Berlin!” cried Gus.

“Hey, you're not the only ones who are smart!” Emil was sore. His New Town pride was wounded. “Anyway, we still have to box.”

“What for?” asked the Professor.

“Oh, he made fun of my suit.”

“Then the boxing match will take place tomorrow,” the Professor decided. “Tomorrow or not at all.”

“Hey, your suit really isn't so dumb. I'm used to it now,” said Gus goodheartedly. “But we can still box if you want. I probably should let you know, though, that I'm the neighborhood champ. You better watch out!”

“And I'm the best in practically every weight class in my school,” claimed Emil.

“You tough guys are driving me nuts!” exclaimed the Professor. “I was planning on going over to the hotel myself. But I see I can't leave you two alone for a minute. You'll be pounding each other in no time.”

“Then I'll go!” suggested Gus.

“Exactly!” agreed the Professor. “Then you go. And you talk with the bellboy. But watch your step! Maybe you can figure something out. Find out what room the guy is staying in. Be back in an hour and give us a report.”

Gus took off.

The Professor and Emil walked out in front of the building and told each other about their teachers. Then the Professor explained all the local and international license plates on the cars driving past until Emil started to recognize them on his own. Then they split a sandwich.

It was already getting dark. Everywhere neon signs were flickering up. The elevated train thundered past. The subway rumbled. The streetcars and buses, cars and bicycles were putting on a crazy concert. In Café Woerz, dance music was playing. The movie houses on Nollendorf Square were starting their last show of the evening, and people were crowding to get in.

“A huge tree like that one by the station,” said Emil, “seems pretty weird here, don't you think? It looks like it got lost.” The boy was captivated and moved. He almost forgot why he was standing there and that he had lost the hundred and forty marks.

“Berlin is pretty amazing. It's like being at the movies. But I really don't know if I'd want to live here forever. In New Town we have our main square and our little main square and the square in front of the train station. And the playgrounds along the river and at Blackbird Park. That's it. But you know what, Professor? I think that's enough for me. To have all this hustle and bustle around you all the time, or all these thousands of streets and intersections? I'd always be getting lost. I don't know what I'd do if I didn't have you guys, if I was standing here by myself! It gives me goosebumps.”

“You get used to it,” said the Professor. “I probably couldn't handle living in New Town either, with its three squares and Blackbird Park.”

“You get used to it,” said Emil. “But Berlin is great. No doubt about it, Professor. Really great.”

“Is your mom very strict?” the Berlin boy asked.

“Mom?” asked Emil. “Not at all. She lets me do anything I want. But I don't. You know what I mean?”

“No,” said the Professor honestly, “I don't know what you mean.”

“No? Well, it's like this. Does your family have a lot of money?”

“I don't know. We never really talk about it.”

“I think when people don't talk about money at home, it means they have some.”

The Professor considered this for a moment and said, “That could well be.”

“You see, Mom and I, we talk about it a lot, but we really don't have any. She's constantly trying to make money, and it's still never enough. But whenever we go on a field trip at school, Mom gives me just as much as the other boys get. Sometimes even more.”

“How can she do that?”

“I don't know. But she does. And I always bring her back half.”

“Does she want you to?”

“No way! But I want to.”

“Oh, I see,” said the Professor, “so that's how it is in your family.”

“Yep. That's how it is. And when she tells me I can go out to the fields with the kid who lives upstairs until nine at night, then I'm always back by seven. I can't stand to think of her sitting in the kitchen, eating supper alone. She still always tells me I should stay out with my friends. But when I tried doing it, it just wasn't fun anymore. Anyway, it really does make her happy that I come home early.”

“Well, things are a lot different with my folks,” said the Professor. “Whenever I actually make it home on time, they're sure to be at the theater or visiting friends. We do like each other. No question about it. We just don't practice it much.”

“With us, liking each other is the one thing we can afford! That's why I'm no momma's boy. And if anyone says I am, I'll slam him up against the wall. It's really not hard to understand.”

“I understand it.”

The two boy stood for a while in the entryway without talking. Night fell. The stars glittered, and the moon squinted with its one eye over the elevated train tracks.

The Professor cleared his throat. Without looking at Emil, he asked him, “So I guess you and your mom really love each other, huh?”

“You bet we do,” answered Emil.

A
ROUND TEN O
'
CLOCK A DELEGATION OF BACKUPS SHOWED
up in the courtyard with enough sandwiches to feed a hundred hungering peoples. They asked for further orders. The Professor was furious and told them they had no business coming, but should be waiting on Nikolsburg Square for Truegut, the go-between with the telephone hub.

“Don't be such a jerk!” said Petzold. “We were just wondering what was going on here.”

“And anyway, we thought something happened to you, because Truegut never showed up,” added Gerold, apologetically.

“How many are still at Nikolsburg Square?” asked Emil.

“Four. Maybe three,” answered Freddie the Great.

“There might only be two left,” said Gerold.

“Don't ask any more,” exclaimed an enraged Professor. “Next they'll tell us there's no one there at all!”

“Why are you yelling?” said Petzold. “And who the hell are you to tell me what to do?”

“I move that Petzold be dismissed immediately and forbidden from taking part in the chase,” said the Professor and stomped his foot.

“I'm sorry you're arguing because of me,” said Emil. “We should vote like they do in parliament. I move that Petzold simply be given a warning. Because we can't all just do whatever we like.”

“Don't be so arrogant, you idiots. I'm going anyway, just so you know!” Then Petzold said something else that was extraordinarily rude and took off.

“He was the one who put us up to it. That's the only reason we came here,” said Gerold. “Zerlett is still back at the reserve camp.”

“Not another word about Petzold,” the Professor ordered. His voice had gotten quiet again, and he was completely in control of himself. “He's history.”

“And what will happen to us?” asked Freddie the Great.

“It's best if you wait until Gus comes back from the hotel and gives us a report,” Emil suggested.

“Good idea,” said the Professor. “Isn't that the bellboy over there?”

“Yeah, that's him,” Emil confirmed.

Standing in the entranceway was a boy wearing an entirely green uniform and a cap the same color on his head. He waved and slowly came toward them.

“Man, look at that cool uniform he has on!” said Gerold enviously.

“Do you have any news from our spy Gustav?” the Professor called out.

The boy was already pretty close to them. He nodded and said, “Yep.”

“So what's the story?” Emil asked eagerly.

Suddenly a horn honked. And the boy in green jumped up and down in the entryway like a madman, laughing. “Man, Emil!” he shouted, “You are so dumb!”

It wasn't the boy at all; it was none other than Gus.

“Look, it's a leprechaun!” Emil pretended to make fun of him. And everyone had a good laugh until someone opened one of the windows overlooking the courtyard and shouted, “Pipe down out there!”

“Excellent!” said the Professor, “But let's keep it down, gentlemen. Gus, come over here and tell us everything.”

“It's like in the movies, bud. Totally wild. Listen to this. So there I am sneaking into the hotel. I see the bellboy standing around and wave him over. He comes up to me, right, and I give him the scoop. From A to Z, more or less. I tell him about Emil. About us. And about the thief. And that the guy's staying in the hotel. And that we're busting a gut keeping watch over him so we can track down that money again tomorrow.

“‘Great,' he says. ‘I have an extra uniform. You can wear it and play the other bellboy.'

“‘But what will the porter say? I'm sure he'll be mad,' I said to him.

“‘Oh, the porter won't be mad. He'll be fine with it,' the bellboy said. ‘He's my dad.'

“I have no idea what he said to his old man. But whatever it was, I got this uniform here, and they're letting me stay in an empty room for the staff, and I can even bring someone with me. So what do you all say to that?”

“What room is the thief staying in?” asked the Professor.

“Man, what is it with you? You're impossible to impress!” Gus grumbled, insulted. “Naturally I don't have to do anything. Just keep out of the way is all. The bellboy thought the thief checked into room 61, a single room, no shower, no nothing. So I go up to the third floor and start playing spy. Completely inconspicuous, of course. Hiding on the other side of the stairs and stuff. After a half hour or so the door to room 61 actually opens. And who should come marching out? None other than Ol' Pickpocket! He had to go use the—well, you know. I had a good look at him this afternoon, and it was him! Short, black moustache; ears so thin you could see the moon shining through them; and a face I wouldn't trade mine with for anything! As he was coming back from the—well, you know—I mosey up to him, stand my ground, and ask, ‘Are you looking for something, sir? Anything I can help you with, sir?'

“‘No,' he says, ‘I don't need anything. Well, actually…Wait! Tell the porter to wake me up at eight. Room 61. And don't forget!'

“‘Oh no, you can depend on me, sir!' I say, pinching my leg with excitement. ‘I sure won't forget that, sir! The phone in room 61 will ring at eight o'clock sharp.' They wake people up by phone, you know. Then our thief just nodded, satisfied, and crept back into his lair.”

“Excellent!” The Professor was more than satisfied, and the others were pretty happy about it, too. “We'll wait for him in front of the hotel after eight. Then the chase will continue. And then we'll catch him.”

“He's a dead man,” said Gerold.

“'Please omit flowers,'” said Gus. “Well, I gotta take off. I said I'd drop a letter in the mailbox for room 12. Fifty cent tip. This job pays pretty well! Somedays the bellboy makes ten marks in tips. He says. So, anyway, I'll be up around seven o'clock and make sure our scoundrel gets woken up on time. And then I'll make my way back down here.”

“Man, Gus, I am so grateful to you,” said Emil, almost like he was giving a speech. “Nothing more can happen now. Tomorrow we'll have him snared. And now we can all go home and go to bed. What do you say, Professor?”

“By all means. Let's all take off and get a good night's sleep. All those present will be back here tomorrow morning, at eight o'clock sharp. And if anyone can get hold of a little dough, please do. I'll call little Tuesday now. I'll ask him to have everyone who reports tomorrow show up here as reinforcements. We may have to organize a blockade. You never know.”

“I'll go with Gus and sleep in the hotel,” said Emil.

“Let's go, bud! You'll love it. It's a big ol' flea trap!”

“I'll make that phone call first,” said the Professor, “then I'll go home, too, and relieve Zerlett on the way. Otherwise he'll still be sitting at Nikolsburg Square tomorrow morning, waiting for commands. Okay, have I made myself clear?”

“Yessirree, Commissioner!” Gus laughed.

“Tomorrow morning, eight o'clock sharp, here in the courtyard,” said Gerold.

“Oh, and bring money,” Freddie the Great remembered.

They said goodbye to each other, shaking each other's hands like little businessmen. Some of them marched off home. Gus and Emil went to the hotel. The Professor walked diagonally across Nollendorf Square in order to call little Tuesday from Café Hahnen.

An hour later they were all asleep, most of them in their own beds, two in staff quarters, on the fourth floor of Hotel Kreid.

And one next to the telephone, in Dad's armchair. That one was little Tuesday. He refused to leave his post. Truegut had gone home. But little Tuesday wouldn't budge from the phone. He curled up on the upholstered seat and slept and dreamed of four million telephone calls.

At midnight his parents got back from the theater. They were a little surprised to see their son in the armchair.

His mother picked him up and carried him off to bed. He flinched and murmured in his sleep, “Code word Emil!”