Megan Stine - Long Shot

“I am a personal friend of Chief Reynolds,” Jupe said, trying to maintain his composure. “Is this what you do when citizens report an incident?”

“This is what we do when we’re bringing in suspects,” said the officer as he roughly grabbed and cuffed Pete.

Suspects? Jupe thought. Suspects? “That’s ridiculous. We didn’t blow up that car! Where’s your evidence?” Jupe demanded.

“I’m taking you in on suspicion of auto theft,” said the officer. “We’ll talk about it at the station.”

When they got to the police station, the cuffs were finally taken off. The two friends sat next to each other on a hard wooden bench outside Police Chief Reynolds’s office.

Pete stared at the floor and shifted uncomfortably. He felt like he was living a nightmare. “We could have been killed,” he said.

“I know,” Jupe said, his stomach turning over again.

“I don’t think we were intended to die. But we might have been killed accidentally. It’s clear we haven’t been careful enough. Someone knew we were going to be at that party.”

“But if they didn’t want to kill us, why blow up the car?”

“To scare us,” Jupe said. “Obviously we are getting close to something — too close.”

Just then the door to Police Chief Reynolds’s office opened. Officer Klint, the cop who’d picked up the guys, motioned them in.

“Hello, Chief,” said Jupiter as he entered.

“Jupiter. Pete,” said the burly, balding man behind the desk. He was half hidden by a mess of files and notes and notepads.

“Chief,” said Jupiter as if speaking to an old friend. Which of course he was. The Rocky Beach police chief had helped the Three Investigators a number of times. And vice versa. Bob liked to say they were “partners in crime-solving.” So Jupe was startled to be hauled in like a common thief. “Why the use of hand-cuffs?” Jupe asked.

“Jupe,” said the chief in a surprisingly unfriendly voice. “ I’m going to do all the questioning for once.” Suddenly he smiled pleasantly. “Well, Pete — that’s quite a car.”

It seemed like he was changing the subject, but Jupe knew Chief Reynolds too well. He knew his interrogation techniques. Make the suspect comfortable. Talk about something easy, gain his confidence — then spring the trap. But why was he using his techniques on Pete and Jupe?

“Yeah, it sure was,” Pete said. “And maybe you should be out looking for the joker who blew it up.”

“Pete,” snapped the chief, “mind your manners. I know my job. Let’s get down to the nitty-gritty. How long have you had that car?”

“Since Friday,” Jupe answered because Pete was biting a fingernail.

“How’d you boys get it?”

“A man gave it to me,” Pete answered.

Chief Reynolds crossed his arms and sniffed. “I don’t like that answer,” he said. Then he leaned forward with his elbows on his desk. “Try again.”

“What do you want me to say?” Pete asked. “It followed me home? I told you the truth.”

“All right, Pete. I’ve known you boys a long time, and I’m inclined to believe you. But there’s more than one side to the truth here. The other side is that that car was reported stolen this afternoon.”

“Stolen?” Pete said.

“By whom?” asked Jupe.

“By its owner. Barry Norman,” said the chief.

“Barry Norman, why that’s the — ” Pete started to say. But Jupe interrupted him loudly.

“Pete, I think it’s time to tell Chief Reynolds that we’re working on a case and that that car was a part of it, and that we can’t expose our client, right ? ”

“What? Oh, yeah, right,” Pete said.

“What case?” asked Chief Reynolds.

Jupe shook his head. “I can’t tell you,” he said. “We’ve promised our client that we’d protect his interests by keeping this quiet.”

The chief threw up his hands.

“If you keep me in the dark, I’ve got to go by the rule book, boys,” said the chief.

“So do we,” Jupe said.

They stared at each other for a long, tense minute. The chief was obviously upset.

“Bring in Norman,” the chief finally said to Officer Klint.

When the door opened again, Barry Norman walked in. As soon as they saw him, both Pete and Jupe gasped. Norman was Michael Anthony!

He was wearing a business suit with his shirt collar open and necktie loose. And his sunglasses hung around his neck on a red cord. Everything about Barry Norman — a.k.a. Michael Anthony — was cool and relaxed. But he looked at Jupe and Pete with a gaze so intense it practically burned holes in their eye sockets. Then he blinked and looked at them again as if he had never seen them before.

“Mr. Norman,” said Chief Reynolds, “these are the boys who reported that your car was blown up. I can vouch for their character. I’ve known them all their lives. Their story is they’ve been driving your Porsche since Friday, when someone gave it to them.”

“I suppose that’s possible,” Barry Norman said coolly. “My car could have been missing for longer than I thought. I’ve been away on a business trip.

“Perhaps whoever stole it decided to give it away — although I can’t imagine why.”

“Have you ever seen Pete or Jupiter before?” Barry Norman slowly shook his head. “And Jupiter, you refuse to tell me who your client is?”

Jupe’s mind raced through the possibilities like a high-speed computer. He could see that Barry Norman was doing the same thing.

The bottom line, Jupe decided, was that Barry Norman was a small catch. By his own admission, he worked for someone who wanted to remain anonymous. But who? If Jupe blew this case open by telling Chief Reynolds about it, chances were good that the man behind the scheme would quietly disappear.

“We can’t tell you anything right now,” Jupe replied.

“Client? Are these kids detectives or something?” Barry Norman asked, trying very hard to look unconcerned.

“Darned good ones,” answered the chief.

“How’s that for a surprise?” Pete said.

Norman shrugged. “The world is full of surprises,” he said. “Sometimes you get a break and sometimes your car blows up.”

“So do you want to file charges against them, Mr. Norman?” asked the chief. “No,” said Barry Norman. “I think you’re right, Chief Reynolds. These guys didn’t blow up my car. Now I’ve got to go try to explain this to my insurance agent.”

“I’ll be in touch,” said Chief Reynolds.

Norman walked out. After he was gone, the chief leaned back in his chair. “I should make you two hotshots tell me the whole story,” he said.

“You’d only get half the story if you did that, Chief,” Jupe said. “We’re still writing the conclusion.”

“Jupiter,” the chief said, “you guys better be careful. Very careful. Someone who blows away a $45,000 car doesn’t care about happy endings!”

Michael Anthony was Barry Norman! Pete still couldn’t get over that fact. Even now, Wednesday night, almost 24 hours later, the case didn’t quite make sense to him. All he knew was that he agreed with Jupe: Barry Norman was a dangerous guy — someone they should steer clear of for a few days. Let him think they were off the case. Then maybe he’d get sloppy and let a clue drop.

Pete sat in the back of the Rocky Beach High School bus by himself, letting his mind wander. Sometimes he tried to put the pieces of the case together. Sometimes he just focused on the upcoming basketball game. His legs were stretched out on the seat, the back of his head bumping on the window to the jerky motion of the bus.

The rest of the Rocky Beach basketball team rode up front. They were talking and laughing and trying to blow off some nerves before that night’s game. But they were leaving Pete alone because that’s what he said he wanted.