Emil and the Detectives (9 page)

T
HE PROCESSION MARCHED TO THE NEAREST POLICE STATION
. The policeman informed the sheriff there of the incident. Emil filed his report. Then he had to give his date and place of birth, his full name, and residence. The sheriff wrote everything down. In ink.

“And what is your name?” he asked the thief.

“Herbert Kiessling,” said the guy.

At that, the boys—Emil, Gus, and the Professor—all had to laugh. And the bank teller, who had handed over the one hundred and forty marks to the sheriff, laughed with them.

“Man, what a nut!” exclaimed Gus. “First he says his name's Groundsnow. Then it's Mueller. And now Kiessling! I can't wait to find out what his real name is!”

“Quiet!” growled the sheriff. “We'll find that out soon enough.”

Mr. Groundsnow-Mueller-Kiessling then told the sheriff his current address, Hotel Kreid. Then his birthdate and home town. He claimed he didn't have an ID.

“And where were you before yesterday?” asked the sheriff.

“In Great Greenow,” the thief replied.

“He's probably lying again,” said the Professor.

“Quiet!” growled the patrolman. “We'll find that out soon enough.”

The bank teller asked whether he could go. Then his details, too, were taken down. He gave Emil a friendly pat on the shoulder and took off.

“Mr. Kiessling,” the sheriff began. “Did you steal a hundred and forty marks from the New Town schoolboy Emil Tabletoe in the train to Berlin yesterday?”

“I did,” the thief said gloomily. “I don't know why. It just came over me. The boy was lying there in the corner, sleeping, when the envelope fell out of his pocket. I picked it up and had a look inside. And since I was broke at the time…”

“That's a lie!” exclaimed Emil. “The money was pinned to my jacket pocket. There's no way it fell out!”

“And he couldn't have needed it that much, otherwise he wouldn't have had the whole amount on him still. He had at least enough of his own money for a taxi, Eggs Benedict, and beer,” the Professor pointed out.

“Quiet!” growled the patrolman. “We'll find that out soon enough.”

And he wrote down everything everyone said.

“Do you think you could possibly let me go, Officer?” the thief asked, positively oozing politeness. “I admitted the crime, after all. And you know where I'm staying. You see, I'm in Berlin on business, and I have some errands to run.”

“Oh, you're a riot!” said the sheriff with a straight face. He called police headquarters and asked them to send a car over; he had a train robber in custody.

“So when do I get my money back?” asked a worried Emil.

“They'll give it you at headquarters,” said the sheriff. “You'll all go over there now, and everything will get sorted out.”

“Hey!” whispered Gus. “They're taking you to headquarters in a paddy wagon!”

“Baloney!” said the sheriff. “You got any money at all, Tabletoe?”

“I sure do,” said Emil. “The guys passed the hat around yesterday. And the porter at Hotel Kreid lent me ten marks.”

“A bunch of regular detectives, huh? Wise guys!” growled the sheriff. But it sounded like a very friendly growl.

“Listen up, Tabletoe. You take the subway to Alexander Place and check in with Sheriff Lurje. You'll figure out the rest once you're there. And you'll get your money back, too.”

“Can I go give the porter his ten marks back first?” Emil asked.

“Of course.”

A few minutes later the police van arrived. And Mr. Groundsnow-Mueller-Kiessling had to get in. The sheriff handed over the written report, the hundred and forty marks, and the pin to a police officer who was sitting in the cab. Then the paddy wagon trundled away. The children standing on the street screamed after the thief. But he didn't flinch. Probably he was too proud, getting to ride in his own car and all.

Emil shook the sheriff's hand and thanked him. The Professor informed the children who had been waiting in front of the station that Emil would be getting his money at police headquarters and that the chase was now over. Then the children, large packs of them, all wandered home. Only the close circle of friends went with Emil to the Hotel and to Nollendorf Square subway station. He asked them to call little Tuesday in the afternoon and let him know how everything went. And he really hoped to see them all again before he went back to New Town. He wanted to thank them all from the bottom of his heard for helping him out. And they would get their money back, of course.

“Just try giving us that money back and I'll clobber you!” exclaimed Gus. “By the way, we still have to box. Over that weird suit of yours.”

“Oh, man!” said Emil and grabbed Gus's and the Professor's hands. “I'm in such a great mood! Let's forget about the boxing match. It would break my heart to have to deck you.”

“You couldn't deck me even if you were in a bad mood, you dork!” yelled Gus.

Then the three rode to police headquarters at Alexander Place. They had to walk through a lot of hallways and past countless rooms before finding Officer Lurje, the criminal sheriff. He was having breakfast. Emil introduced himself.

“Aha!” said Officer Lurje, chewing. “Emil Tabletop. Kid Detective. Heard about it on the phone. The police chief is waiting. He wants to talk to you. Come with me!

“The name is Tabletoe,” Emil corrected him.

“Six of one, half dozen of the other,” said Officer Lurje, taking another bite of his bagel.

“We'll wait for you here,” said the Professor. Gus called after Emil, “Make it quick, dude! When I see someone eating, I always get hungry!”

Officer Lurje wandered through a number of corridors, left, right, left again. Then he knocked on a door. A voice called, “Come in!” Lurje cracked open the door and said, chewing, “The kid detective is here, Chief. Emil Mistletoe.”

“My name is Tabletoe!” Emil insisted.

“Well, that's a nice name, too,” said Officer Lurje and shoved Emil so hard, he tumbled into the room.

The police chief was a friendly man. Emil had to sit in a comfy chair and tell him the whole robber story in detail from start to finish. At the end, the police chief stood up and announced, “Well, I suppose I should give you your money back now.”

“Thank God!” Emil gave a huge sigh of relief and put the money in his pocket. And he was especially careful with it.

“Just don't let it get stolen again!”

“No way! I'm taking it straight to Grandma!”

“Right! I almost forgot. I'll need your address here in Berlin. Will you be here for the next couple of days?”

“I hope so,” said Emil. “I'm staying at 15 Schumann Street. The Heimbold residence. That's my uncle's last name. My aunt's, too, actually.”

“You boys did an excellent job,” said the police chief, lighting a fat cigar.

“Yep, the team functioned like a well-oiled machine, it's true!” replied Emil enthusiastically. “Gus and his horn, the Professor, little Tuesday, Crumbagel, and the Middleday brothers—everybody. It was so awesome working with them. Most of all with the Professor. What a whiz!”

“Well, you're not exactly pea-brained either,” said the police chief, letting out a puff of smoke.

“There's something else I wanted to ask you, Officer,” said Emil. “What will happen to Groundsnow, or whatever the thief's name is?”

“We took him over to identify him. He'll be photographed and fingerprinted. Then we'll compare his picture and prints with the ones we have in our database.”

“What's that?”

“That's where we keep files on everyone who's been arrested, and also for keeping evidence—footprints, things like that—on criminals we haven't caught yet and are still looking for. It's possible, after all, that the man who stole your money committed other robberies and burglaries long before pickpocketing you. Right?”

“That's true. I didn't even think about it!”

“Just a sec,” said the friendly police chief and picked up the ringing phone. “By all means,” he said into the speaker, “Yes, a very interesting case… just come into my office.” Then he hung up and said to Emil, “A couple of fellows from the newspaper will be here in a moment to interview you.”

“What does that mean?” asked Emil.

“That means they're going to ask you some questions.”

“Unbelievable!” exclaimed Emil. “So I'm going to be in the newspaper, too?”

“Probably,” said the police chief. “Schoolkids who catch robbers usually become famous.”

There was a knock at the door. Then four gentlemen came into the room. The police chief shook their hands and briefly told them Emil's story. The four men diligently wrote everything down.

“This is great!” said one of the reporters at the end. “Country boy turns detective!”

“So are you putting him on the payroll, Chief?” said another and laughed.

“What I don't understand is why you didn't just tell the police in the first place,” asked a third reporter.

Emil felt a chill run down his spine. He thought about Officer Jeschke in New Town and about his dream. Now he was really in for it.

“Good question…” said the police chief.

Emil shrugged his shoulders and said, “Oh, all right! It's because back in New Town I painted a moustache on the statue of Grand Duke Charles. I painted his nose red, too. Please don't arrest me, Mr. Police Chief!”

At that, instead of scowling, the five men all laughed. The police chief exclaimed, “But Emil, we couldn't possibly put our best detective behind bars!”

“No? Really? Wow, does that ever make me happy!” the boy said with a sigh of relief.

Then he went to one of the reporters and said, “Don't you remember me?”

“No,” replied the man.

“You paid for my ticket yesterday on the streetcar when I didn't have the money.”

“That's right!” said the man. “Now I remember. You wanted to know my address so you could return the dime.”

“Would you like it back now?” asked Emil and pulled ten pennies out of his pants pocket.

“Don't bother,” said the man. “You even introduced yourself.”

“Of course,” said Emil. “I always do that. Tabletoe's the name. Emil Tabletoe.”

“And my name's Kästner,” said the journalist, and they shook hands.

“Amazing!” said the police chief. “Old pals!”

“Say, Emil,” said Mr. Kästner, “why don't you come over to the newspaper with me. We can go for cake and ice cream on the way.”

“All right, but it's on me!” said Emil.

“What a hotshot!” The men all laughed with delight.

“No. Please. Let me pay for it!” said Mr. Kästner.

“Well, thanks,” said Emil. “But the Professor and Gus are waiting for me outside.”

“They'll join us, of course,” said Mr. Kästner.

The other journalists still had a lot of questions for Emil. He answered them all in detail, and they wrote down even more notes.

“Is the thief a first-timer?” one of the men asked.

“I don't think so,” replied the police chief. “We may be in for another big surprise. But wait an hour or so, gentleman, then give me a call.”

They all said goodbye to each other. And Emil went with Mr. Kästner back to Officer Lurje. He was still eating. “Ah, the little Tiptoe!” he said.

“Tabletoe,” said Emil.

Then Mr. Kästner packed Emil, Gus, and the Professor into a cab and rode with them to an ice cream shop. On the way, Gus honked his horn, and everyone laughed when Mr. Kästner jumped in surprise. The boys were all in high spirits at the ice cream shop. They had cherry pie smothered in whipped cream and talked about this and that—about the council meeting on Nikolsburg Square, the car chase, the night in the hotel, Gus dressed up as a bellhop, and the commotion in the bank. At the end Mr. Kästner said, “You guys are geniuses!”

All three were suddenly very proud of themselves, so they each had another slice of pie.

Afterwards Gus and the Professor got on the bus. Emil promised to call little Tuesday in the afternoon, then headed with Mr. Kästner for the editorial office.

The newspaper building was enormous, almost as big as the police headquarters on Alexander Place. The halls were filled with people scurrying and running back and forth as if an obstacle race were going on.

They entered a room where a beautiful blonde woman was sitting at a typewriter. Mr. Kästner paced back and forth across the room and dictated what Emil had told him to the woman. Sometimes he stopped all of a sudden and asked Emil, “Is that right?” When Emil nodded, Mr. Kästner continued dictating.

Then he made a phone call to the police chief.

“What's that you say?” shouted Mr. Kästner. “Why… why that's amazing!… But I shouldn't say anything to him?…Oh, thattoo?…Iamsohappy… Thanks a million!…This'll be great…”