Jacob Two-Two-'s First Spy Case (2 page)

“Oh dear,” said Jacob Two-Two's father, “that must be our new neighbor.”

The new neighbor summoned one of the movers, had him lean an extension ladder against the wall of his house, and then scampered to the top and climbed in through a second-floor window. A minute later he came bounding out of the front door, beaming at Jacob Two-Two, and he sang out, “
Bonjour. Shalom. Buenos dias
.”

“Why did you go into your house like that?” asked Jacob Two-Two, already enchanted.

“Lesson number one,
amigo
. Never enter a new, insecure dwelling the way they'd expect you to. By slipping in through a second-floor window you can surprise anybody lying in wait for you downstairs. I can tell we are going to be friends,” he said.

“Oh, yes,” said Jacob Two-Two. “Oh, yes!”

“I am a world traveler. A man who has done many astounding things. I have had a bath in Turkey and eaten turkey in a city called Bath. I once gobbled a sandwich in the town of Rainy River and later waded in a rainy river in the Sandwich Islands. You are looking at a chap who once went out with a fair maiden called Florence in the city of Adelaide, and then kept company with another, called Adelaide, in
the city of Florence. I have, in my time, gorged myself on Toulouse sausages in the Canary Islands and kept a canary in a city called Toulouse. Long ago, in my days as a struggling young man, I went hungry in the city of Hamburg, but, by Jove, I lived to eat hamburgers in Hungary,” he said, and then he handed Jacob Two-Two his card. It read:

CHAPTER 2

ow that he was two times two times two years old, Jacob Two-Two had to attend an expensive private school for boys called Privilege House, where his best friends were called Mickey, Robby, and Chris. And where his only problem was the ill-tempered Miss Sour Pickle, his geography teacher, who insisted on absolute silence in her class. One day, writing something on the blackboard, her back turned to the class, she suddenly whirled around and demanded, “
What's that terrible racket I hear
?”

“We're breathing, Miss Sour Pickle,” said Jacob Two-Two.

“Well, I suppose you must. Even in geography class. But not so loud, please. It's bringing on one of my headaches.”

Another day she caught Robby wearing the Number 99 sweater of the Los Angeles Kings in her class. “Hockey is not a sport,” she said. “It's violence on ice. Wayne Gretzky. Number 99. Remove that sweater at once, Robby.”

The boys were delighted to discover that she knew Wayne Gretzky's name.

“Are you a hockey fan, Miss Sour Pickle?” asked Chris.

“Certainly not,” she said. “Why, not one of those brutal, overpaid hooligans could tell me the population of Sri Lanka, or what is the average annual rainfall on the Island of Orkney.”

Miss Sour Pickle enjoyed nothing more than sneaking up behind Jacob when he was daydreaming and demanding that he rattle off, in short order, the names of the capital cities of, say, Albania, Libya, and Tibet, or that he stay in for an hour after school.

Miss Sour Pickle aside, Jacob Two-Two got on just fine with everybody at Privilege House.

Then something happened.

After his father drove him to school, the very morning that Mr. Dinglebat became their new next-door neighbor, Jacob Two-Two was in for a second, less welcome surprise. A school assembly had been called. Mr. Goodbody, their gentle headmaster, announced he was retiring. “The directors of Privilege House, in their wisdom,” he said, biting back tears, “have appointed Mr. I.M. Greedyguts as your new headmaster. Mr. Greedyguts is the distinguished author of several books, including
Spare the Rod and Spoil the Child
. During his army years, he was a sergeant-major in the military police and, following that,” he added, weeping openly now, “he was a prison warden.”

Next, Mr. I.M. Greedyguts waddled onto the stage, huffing and puffing, his triple chins wobbling. He was so fat, it seemed to Jacob that he had been blown up with a bicycle pump. Munching on a foot-long submarine sandwich, he glared at the boys and said, “Wandering round the schoolyard this morning, I noticed several boys with their shirt-tails hanging out. Or missing buttons from their jackets. Or with socks falling down around their ankles. I saw boys with faces unwashed and with shoes unshined. From now on these offenders will report to my office for
punishment. I also wish to announce that I have fired the school cook, Mrs. Bountiful, and hired a new caterer to provide the meals for Privilege House.”

When school was out that afternoon, Jacob Two-Two had his third surprise of the day. A panel truck was parked outside and the sign printed on both sides of it read:

Oh, no
, thought Jacob Two-Two.
Oh, no. Not Perfectly Loathsome Leo Louse
, who came to their house every Friday night to join in his father's weekly poker game.

CHAPTER 3

acob Two-Two's mother disliked Perfectly Loathsome Leo Louse even more than he did. “Must we have that awful man in our house again?” she asked.

“I've known him for what seems like a hundred years,” said Jacob Two-Two's father, “and Perfectly Loathsome Leo never gets invited anywhere else.”

“No wonder,” said Jacob Two-Two's mother.

Perfectly Loathsome Leo Louse's suit was so shiny you could just about see your reflection in it. His shirt collar and cuffs were badly frayed. He used a rope, instead of a belt, to hold up his trousers. One of
his socks was brown, and the other black, to match his smelly shoes, one black, the other brown. He had never married, because a wife would be too costly, as would children, always growing out of their clothes, and he didn't bathe very often either, because soap was so expensive.

“He's so mean,” one of the poker players once said, “he wouldn't help a man off a hot stove unless there was some gain in it for him.”

“He has the first dollar he ever earned,” said Jacob Two-Two's father.

Whenever he came to the house, Perfectly Loathsome Leo Louse would pretend to be fond of Jacob Two-Two when the other men were around, but played nasty tricks on him if he caught him alone. That very evening, for instance, as Perfectly Loathsome Leo Louse approached the house for the poker game, he came upon Jacob watering the front lawn. “My God,” he said, “do you still live here?”

“Why not? Why not?”

“Your mother told me she was having you exchanged for a girl. Maybe the deal hasn't come through yet.”

Later he caught Jacob Two-Two alone in the
kitchen and immediately indicated an imaginary spot on his shirt. “Hey, is that a bumblebee I see there?” And when Jacob Two-Two lowered his head to look, Perfectly Loathsome Leo flicked Jacob's nose hard with his bent finger. “Gotcha, didn't I?”

Because he was such a miser, the other poker players, including Jacob's father, tried their best to beat him in the game. But, unlike the other men, who came to have fun and trade stories about the good old days, Perfectly Loathsome Leo was a very careful player, and that night, as usual, he ended up being a big winner. Whooping with joy as he scooped up his money, he then looked longingly at the food that remained on platters on a sideboard, and said, “Oh, I didn't have time to shop today. Do you mind if I take home enough food for my lunch tomorrow?” And then, without waiting for an answer, he wrapped up enough smoked salmon, salami, ham, potato salad, and coleslaw to last him the rest of the week. Next he turned to Jacob Two-Two's father, and asked, “Are you, um, through with this morning's newspaper?”

“Take it,” said Jacob Two-Two's father, laughing out loud.

“Anybody driving my way?” asked Perfectly Loathsome Leo Louse.

“Now that you've got all our money,” said one of the players, “why don't we call you a taxi?”