The Fight for Kidsboro (7 page)

Eugene was standing in the middle of the mess, scratching his chin. The place was trashed in an unusual way, but it was hard to put my finger on what was so strange about it. I asked Scott what he thought, and, of course, he had detected nothing.

“This is very odd,” Eugene began. “The alarm is still set. Not only did it not go off, I don't believe it was ever even tripped.”

“But how could somebody get in here without tripping the alarm? The wires are all over the floor, on the door, around the window …”

“So where did they break in?” Scott joined in, probably feeling either awkward or guilty that he hadn't discovered anything yet.

Eugene scanned the floor and the walls, then his eyes stopped at the ceiling. We all looked up. He raised his arm and pushed up on the wood. It lifted easily.

“They broke in through the roof!” I exclaimed.

“Ingenious,” Eugene said.

Scott looked around again. “So, they broke in through the roof, knocked over the chair, broke a few gadgets, laid these books down on the table, threw a couple of pieces of paper around …”

“Wait a minute!” I shouted. “That's it!”

Scott seemed pleased that his summary had helped jar something in my brain. “What?”

“These books. Look at ‘em. They're laid down on the table like somebody was getting ready to study. If someone was coming in just to make a mess, wouldn't they be thrown everywhere, on the floor, laying open? And look at this chair. It looks like it was carefully laid down on the dirt.”

“Precisely!” Eugene said. “The person who vandalized this clubhouse was making extreme efforts not to trip the alarm.”

“Get Nelson!” I said.

Scott left to earn some of his money and came back with Nelson.

“Nelson, were these books already lying on the desk like this?” I asked.

“No, I always put them up on the shelf. I assume the burglar did that.”

“Tell me about your alarm system,” I said, playing a hunch.

“Well … I set up wires around the room, on the walls …”

“Around the circumference of the window as well,” Eugene added.

“And if someone bumps it, it releases a high-pitched noise. Pretty much everybody in town would be able to hear it.”

“Is there any way somebody could've gotten in here and not tripped the alarm?”

“No. The alarm must have malfunctioned … or maybe I forgot to turn it on, I don't know.”

“Impossible,” Eugene said.

“What if the burglar came in through the roof?” I asked.

“Well, sure, I didn't have any wires on the ceiling, but if somebody came in here and was throwing books and stuff around, there's no way they wouldn't hit an alarm somewhere.”

“But that's just it,” I said. “These books are
not
thrown around. Look at this chair. It's laid down so nicely, not touching any walls, not tripping any alarms.”

Nelson was beginning to see where I was going with this. Scott still didn't have a clue. “You're right,” Nelson said. “So whoever broke in must've known where the alarms were set.”

“Exactly,” I said. “Did anyone besides you know where you put the alarms?”

“Well,” Nelson began thinking. “I've had people in my house before. I suppose someone could've noticed where the wires were.”

“Who?”

“Well … you.”

Scott suddenly woke up. “You're accusing Ryan?!”

“No. I'm just trying to think who's been in here. My sister …” This one caused my eyebrow to raise a little.

“Didn't someone assist you with the installation?” Eugene asked.

“Oh, yeah, Nick did that.”

Nick's father worked in a tool shop, and Nick knew how to build clubhouses and just about anything else.

“Nick?” I asked. “How exactly did he help you?”

“He stapled the wiring to the walls.” Nelson's eyes lit up as if the mystery was solved. “He knows the whole system—where all the wires are placed, how much pressure is needed to set off the alarm—he knows everything!”

I looked at Scott. He said in perfect TV detective fashion, “I think we need to take a little trip to Nick's house.”

There was a knock at the door. It was Alice.

“Nelson, I need to take an official statement …” she stopped suddenly when it dawned on her why Scott and I might be in the room. “What are you guys doing here?”

“We're just, um…” I began, not sure if I should tell her. “We're talking to Nelson.”

“About what?”

“Nothing,” Scott said quickly, making it obvious that we were, indeed, talking about something. Scott's face paled.

Alice looked at Scott. “Does wearing that hat mean you're doing detective work?”

“Well, I …”

She looked at me. “This is
my
investigation, Mr. Mayor.”

“Look, Alice … I just have this hunch …”

“And you think your hunch is better than mine?” Her neck muscles tightened. Scott started to sway as if he were going to faint. “You think you can do this better than me?”

“I'm just …” I began. “No.”

“Didn't think so. Now go do some mayoral work and let me do my job.”

Scott was out of the house in about three milliseconds. I followed him.

On the way to Nick's house, Valerie stopped us. “Mr. Mayor, how lovely to see you,” she said. Scott had taken enough ribbing about the hat and had taken it off. “And you have your little elf with you too. How nice.”

“We're kind of in a hurry, Valerie. Did you want something?”

“I just wanted to invite you to my press conference. I'm holding it in the meeting hall in about 10 minutes.”

“You mean you have something
else
to say to the newspaper?”

“Oh, something very important,” she said with that evil smile.

“What is it?”

“I'm running for mayor.”

5

THE TRUTH REVEALED

I
WAS VERY PROUD OF
myself for not letting my mouth quiver in front of Valerie when she said she was running for mayor. I bit my lip until it hurt. But as soon as she left, I felt my face turn cold. Valerie was the most popular person at Odyssey Middle School. I wasn't even in the top 50.

Desperate, I went to Whit's End to see if we had put anything in the city charter about regular elections and I had just forgotten about it. I knew it was a slim chance, since we had only written the charter less than three months before, but I figured my only hope was that a spontaneous, midterm election was unconstitutional.

Mr. Whittaker scanned through the pages of the city charter and shook his head. “Nope. Nothing,” he said.

“But we can write something in now,” I said.

“I agree that there needs to be a section about a mayor's term, but you can't write it in now just because it serves you well.”

“So what can I do?”

“You have to beat her, Ryan,” he said. “Then, as your first act as the newly reelected mayor, you can add a clause in the city charter about regular elections.”

If the election were held that day, I thought I had a chance. Yes, Valerie was popular, but that didn't necessarily make her a good political leader, and I hoped people knew that. Not to brag, but people in the town trusted me. Besides, I was the one who had given them their start. And, with the exception of the serial burglar and Sid's Bakery closing, everything had run pretty smoothly from the beginning.

However … Valerie wasn't done campaigning, and something told me she was saving her best for last. She had told me she was scheduling a debate. That would be a challenge for me. She had a way with words. I knew she could manipulate people one-on-one, so I assumed she could do the same with a crowd.

One thing that would really help me win the election would be to solve this burglary case and clear Roberto's name. Then I couldn't be accused of letting criminals into the town. Linking Valerie to the break-ins would be a bonus.

I needed to focus my attention on the one person who could get me out of this jam—Nick.

Nick was outside in his T-shirt and overalls, busily putting on an addition to his clubhouse when Scott and I walked up. Most people had built small houses to begin with, but the ones who were making money were starting to add on. They put on extra rooms, built extra tables, added shelves, and so on. Max Darby, of course, had the biggest house in Kidsboro. He had four rooms, including a rec room that actually had a working air hockey table. Nelson had helped him create it. They poked holes in a sheet of heavily waxed wood and put a fan underneath it so the air would come out. It worked okay, but it had taken a while to get the bugs worked out. One time the puck caught too much wind and flew off the table, smacking Joey, the town minister, in the forehead. There was a circular mark on his forehead for about a week.

Nick had knocked out part of a wall and was building a new room when we walked up. “How's it going, Nick?” I asked.

“Pretty good.”

“The place is looking great,” I said. And it was. Nick was a great builder. I decided not to waste any time. “Did you hear there was another break-in?”

“Yeah, I heard something,” he said.

“Nelson's house.”

“That's too bad,” he said, not looking up from the board he was hammering.

“Burglar got right past his alarm. Can you believe that?”

“Pretty wild.”

“It almost seemed like the burglar knew exactly where the alarm was set.”

“Really?” he said, making a great effort not to look at me.

“Nelson said that you helped him install his alarm system.”

He paused before he answered. “I don't know what you're talking about.” Ah! So he denied it. Now we were getting somewhere.

“So you didn't help him with it?”

“No.”

“Have you ever seen Nelson's system?”

“No.”

“Have you ever been in Nelson's house?”

“No.”

“Did you ever talk to Nelson at all about his alarm system?”

“No. Look, I don't care anything about Nelson. I've got nothing to do with any of this. I've been working on my house all day.” Annoyed, he sent a nail all the way in with one hit.

“But—”

“Just get outta here,” he interrupted. “I'm not answering any more questions.”

I was satisfied with this meeting. I had obviously rattled him, and this made me pretty certain he was guilty. I was confident I could get proof somewhere along the line. I started to back away.

“Pardon me for being born, Nick, but … I don't believe you,” Scott said suddenly. Scott hadn't uttered a word during the whole interrogation, so I was shocked that he even spoke, much less said something aggressive. Scott continued, stammering nervously, “Nelson said that you … he said you helped him with his alarm. So, you're saying he's lying?”

“Yeah. He's lying.”

“You didn't?”

“What?”