The Clue of the Linoleum Lederhosen (7 page)

“Here, boy! Here, Ivy!” said Fud, clapping smartly in a way that must have once attracted his schnauzer.

“I don't think the ivy wants to come down,” said Jasper. “It is a plant.”

“What do you even
know?”
said Jank, angrily. “Why are you so big faced?”

Fud said, “You're stupid.”

“Jasper has goop-nose,” said Fud. “Like a little baby.”

Jank said, “Jasper is a little baby.”

“My nose is running,” said Jasper, “because I suffer from hay fever brought on by the mountain laurel.”

“You eat diapers,” said Jank.

“Might we continue?” said Jasper. “The Quints could be in peril.”

“You're dumb,” said Fud. “And your father was a sound from outer space.”

“He was not a
sound,”
said Jasper. “He was a signal.”

“Same thing.”

“It is not the same thing.”

“I call that every snot-nosed person whose father was a signal from outer space gets
punched,” said Jank. Both he and Fud hit Jasper in the arm.

Then they kept walking.

Jasper rubbed his arms and frowned. He followed the Manleys through a little grove of birch trees. They were far up the side of the mountain.

“It would be keen if we could find the Hooper Quints first before anyone else,” said Fud. “It would be yet another case solved by those daring Manley Boys.”

“Righto,” said Jank. “Those handsome, daring Manley Boys do it again.”

“We'd like, in thanks, some free Jell-O. And we'd like to thank all of the people of this town who made our detection possible.”

“You haven't solved anything yet,” said Jasper.

“We solved the mystery of where that weird smell came from. From you.”

Jasper was usually not a very violent person at all, but he felt violent right then. The combination of meanness and stupidity made him want to bust people up. Or cry with frustration.
For one thing, he couldn't believe the Manleys were making fun of his father for being a highly concentrated beam of information from the Horsehead Nebula.

Jasper had always taken it for granted that kindness, respect, and cooperation were logical. Nothing else was logical. Cruelty wasn't logical. Crime wasn't logical. Jasper never ceased to believe that, sooner or later, people would come to their senses and work together for the perfection of absolutely everything. There would be rings of light around towers, and boys and girls would slip through the air in antigravity halters to buffets floating over the seas, where they would eat the succulent fruits of the Venusian jungles and share giant deviled-egg sandwiches made from the huge plasma-jays of Io. There would be a lightness over all of Earth.

Weightlessness, after all, is not just anti-gravity; it is learning to long for the sky more than the safety of the dirt.

“By dame is Jadper Dapp,” said Jank, holding his nose. “I ab a ruddy-dose baby.”

“I suffer from hay fever,” began Jasper, “brought on by mountain laur—” but Fud flung out his arms and stopped them.

“Whoa,” Fud exclaimed. “What's that?”

They looked up.

Fud said, “See? It's a moose—stuck in that tree!”

“Poor thing,” said Jank. “Here, moose. Here, moosey!”

“I'm not sure you should worry,” said Jasper. “I believe that is a stuffed moose head.”

“It's trapped! It can't get down!”

“It is not trapped,” said Jasper. “It is stuffed.”

“I don't see it, you know, shimmying down a branch,” said Fud. “Do you, Mr. Booger-nose? So I guess that's called trapped.”

Jasper put his fists in his pockets. He tried to remind himself that the Manley Boys, for once, were being compassionate. They were truly worried about the stuffed moose head, and this was at least some sign of kindness.

He let them, therefore, clamber up the tree. He let them bring the moose head down and
give it water, and pet it, and ask it where its mommy and legs were. He watched patiently as they became convinced that the moose head was being a jerk because it wouldn't say anything, and they started to tease it.

“You have a big nose, and it's the biggest, and it's even a snottier nose than Jasper's.”

This all could have gone on for some time, but Jasper reminded them that they wanted to be the first to find the Quints.

“We would have, too, if it hadn't been for that stupid moose,” said Jank.

“Yeah,” said Fud. “Stupid.”

“Moose,” said Jank, shaking his head.

They left the moose head at the bottom of the tree and kept on walking.

They climbed higher up the mountain. They went through rocky outcroppings. They wandered through little fir woods that clustered around streams. They crawled over granite faces.
The Manley Boys were good at climbing—swift and agile.

They were walking along the base of a cliff when suddenly Jasper noticed footprints in the mud of the path. The footprints headed into the bushes. He stepped off the path.

“Hey, chaps,” he hissed.

They turned around.

He pointed to the footprints.

The Manley Boys nodded. The three of them crept carefully into the bushes.

There, at the bottom of the cliff, was a cave half covered with broken tree limbs.

“That's the ticket,” muttered Jank enthusiastically. He asked Fud, “You have the flashlight?” He held out his hand, peering into the darkness of the grotto.

“Sure do,” said Fud. He drew it out of his belt and fiddled with it. He smacked it against his hand. “Darn. Out of batteries,” he said.

Jasper cleared his throat. “That is the pepper grinder from the hotel restaurant,” he said.

They looked at it, startled.

“Weird,” said Jank.

“Shoot,” said Fud.

“I have a flashlight” said Jasper, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a thin cylinder that he switched on.

Together, they stepped carefully into the cave.

And something was flung at them—Jasper crouched—Fud and Jank tumbled backward—and all around them—
wings!

“Bats!” said Jasper through the hurtling bodies. “We startled them!”

A stream of bats flew out of the cave and swooped around the woods, their wings shuffling in the air.

Jank and Fud got back to their feet. They both were saying
“Ewww,”
and brushing themselves off. “Bat spit,” one said.

Jasper said, “Don't be alarmed. Bats are almost entirely harmless.”

“They're gross!” said Fud. “They've touched caves.”

Jasper looked at Fud for a long silent minute, then urged, “Let's go.” Shining his light in front of him, he walked into the darkened entrance. Jank and Fud looked over his shoulders.

Someone had piled rocks near the entrance to make a rough staircase. The three boys went down five steps and found themselves in a big cavern.

Jasper shone the light around, illuminating a few rough furnishings: an old rug, a chair, a desk with a shortwave radio, which, though thankfully off, was tuned to an easy listening station.

There, in the corner, were five little suitcases.

The boys ran over to the suitcases and popped them open.

Inside each one, beyond a few pairs of clean underwear and a toothbrush, was a little sailor suit—and a pair of linoleum lederhosen.

“Jupiter's moons!” exclaimed Jasper. “These must belong to the Quints!” He shone the flashlight around wildly. There was a hole in the wall leading into another cavern.

Fud headed over to check it out. He handed Jasper the pepper grinder. “You hold the other light, too,” he said.

Jank, looking at the passageway, guessed, “That must be where the smugglers have their boat.”

Jasper said, “What smugglers?”

“The smugglers we're looking for.”

“We're looking for a kidnapper.”

“That must be where he keeps his boat.”

Fud explained, “They always keep a boat at the river in their cave.”

“I don't think it is likely there will be a river on a mountaintop.”

“There's always a river.”

“What use would a boat be on a mountain?”

“Well,” said Fud, “at least my dad isn't a smell from outer space.”

“What does that,” said Jasper, “have to do with anything?”

“I'm just saying, at least my dad isn't a Martian smell.”

“He was not a smell!”
exclaimed Jasper, finally at the end of his rope.
“I have told you before, he was a highly concentrated beam of binary information projected from the region of the Horsehead Nebula!”

“Sorry, you snot-nosed—”

“I am allergic to mountain laurel!”

“Hey,” said Fud, “what's a neb—”

“A mysterious cloud of floating particles and gases!”

“And what's binary infor—”

“It is information made up entirely of ones and zeros!”

“Made up of ones and zeros?”

“That's what it is!”

“Heh,” Jank said. “Too bad his son only inherited the zeros.”

There was a moment of awed silence. Then Fud burst out, “WHOA! WHOA! WE HAVE SOLVED THE MYSTERY OF THE FUNNIEST GUY ON THE PLANET EARTH! AND IT IS MY BROTHER JANK!”

Jank repeated, “Too bad his son only inherited
the zeros, yeah? I said, ‘Too bad his son only got the zeros.' “

Fud slapped his brother on the back. The two of them were laughing hysterically.

“Would you people keep it down?” said a man in a mask with a gun.

“Did you hear what he said?” screamed Fud. “This guy is the funniest guy ever! Did you hear him?”

“First, Jasper said—Jasper Dash—he said, ‘The information of my dad is made up of only the ones and zeros,' and I said, ‘It's too bad that—' “

“Hey!
Shh! Shhhhh!
Shut up!” the man in the black ski mask demanded. “I can hardly call this a ‘secret hideout' with you making all that noise laughing like hyenas.”

“Just listen,” said Jank.

“Jank?” said Fud.

“Yes, Fud?” said Jank.

“There's a man with a gun.”

“So there is,” said the man with the gun. “About to tie you up.”

“Before you gag us,” said Jank, “let me tell you my joke.”

“No,” said the man with the gun. “I'd like to gag you first.”

Jasper demanded, “Where are the Quints, you devil?”

“You're about to find out,” said the man. “First I'm going to have you tie each other up.” He waved the gun. “Go over there and pick up that rope.” Fud picked it up. “Now wrap it tightly around Mr. Dash's ankles. Tightly! Tighter!” He waited. “Now tie a knot.”

Fud hesitated. “Okay,” he said.

“Tie it!”

Fud asked, somewhat embarrassed, “Can you do the shoe-tie rhyme? You know, ‘Cross the river, under the bridge, bunny hops around the—'”

“Do I have to do this myself?” yelled the kidnapper.