Encyclopedia Brown and the Case of the Soccer Scheme (2 page)

The Case of the Red Roses

Encyclopedia helped his father solve crimes all year-round. In the summer when school was out, he helped the children of the neighborhood as well. He opened a detective agency in the family garage.

After breakfast he hung out his sign:

Encyclopedia used reason rather than muscle to solve cases. Once in a while, reason didn't work.

He therefore took in Sally Kimball, a classmate, as his junior partner. Sally was the best girl athlete in the school. She also had what it takes. She could tame the bullies.

On Sunday the detectives biked to the Harris Drugstore, which had the best greeting cards. Sally wanted to buy a get-well card for a friend.

Mr. Harris was at the cash register. Some thirty feet away Bugs Meany was standing at a table loaded with red roses for sale.

“What is that no-good Bugs doing by the roses?” Sally said. “He can't tell a rose from a turnip.”

“He seems to be watching,” Encyclopedia observed. “From the table of roses he can see the racks of candy, the line of customers waiting to pay, and Mr. Harris. I'd say Bugs is at the roses for a purpose.”

Bugs Meany was the leader of a gang of tough older boys. They called themselves the Tigers. They should have called themselves the Lamp Chains. They were always pulling something shady.

Sally had dealt with Bugs and members of the Tigers many times. Last week she had taken care of a Tiger named Duke Kelly. Duke was threatening to rough up Robby Pickens unless he traded his new bicycle seat for a can of ginger ale.

Sally had told Duke to leave Robby alone.

“Go kiss your elbow,” Duke had said with a sneer, and went for the first punch. He threw a left. Sally ducked and bashed his nose with a right.

Duke wobbled around like a boy looking for himself. “I must be having a bad day,” he moaned, and bit the grass.

Now, ten days later, Duke, Bugs, and Robby were in Mr. Harris's drugstore. Bugs stood by the roses. Duke stood right behind Robby in the line to pay.

“I don't like this,” Encyclopedia said to Sally. “Duke and Bugs are up to no good. They might be trying to get even. Robby is responsible for your punching out Duke.”

As he spoke, a lady accidentally bumped her shopping cart into the table with the roses. The roses and their polished brass vases were shaken.

One of the vases toppled to the floor. The roses spilled out.

A clerk hurried over. He knelt on one knee and gathered the roses. Carefully he stuck them back in the brass vase.

By then Robby had reached the front of the line. He was paying Mr. Harris for a chocolate bar. Duke had edged nearer to Robby.

“What do I behold, Mr. Harris?” Duke suddenly thundered. “This!” He held up a chocolate bar. “I just pulled it out of Robby's back pocket!”

“That's not true,” Robby exclaimed in shock.

Bugs raced from the roses to Mr. Harris. “Don't listen to the little sneak! At last he got caught. I saw him take two chocolate bars off the candy rack. He hid one in his back pocket. I saw him myself! I saw him with my own eyes!”

“Who knows how long he's been shoplifting,” Duke broke in.

“We'll find out when the police work him over,” Bugs said.

Mr. Harris looked uncertain. “I can't settle this at the moment, children. Wait for me out back.”

“I was smelling the roses near the candy. Roses are the love of my life. I can smell them by the hour.”

Out in back Sally glared at Bugs. “You're lying, you bag of doughnuts. You didn't see Robby take two chocolate bars off the candy rack and hide one.”

“I saw him!” Bugs swore.

“How come you happened to see Duke lift the chocolate bar from Robby's pocket at just the right time?” Encyclopedia demanded.

“Some people are born with special gifts,” Bugs boasted. He sniffed the air dreamily. “I was smelling the roses near the candy. Roses are the love of my life. I can smell them by the hour.”

He sniffed twice more and gave Encyclopedia a cocksure grin. “I saw over the roses. I'm an expert on roses. Robby was at the candies. He took two chocolate bars. He slid one into his back pocket and got in line to pay for the other. It's the truth. Man, oh man! To think that I, Bugs Meany, America's teenage heartthrob, would tell a lie chokes me with unspeakable fury.”

“Save the act, Bugs,” Encyclopedia said. “You and Duke tried to get Robby in trouble.”

WHAT CONVINCED ENCYCLOPEDIA?

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The Case of the Jelly-Bean Holdup

On Friday Encyclopedia and Sally took the bus to Mr. Whitten's toy store where the jelly-bean contest was being held.

The boys and girls who entered the contest had to guess the number of jelly beans in a glass jar. Whoever guessed the correct number or who came closest would win the jelly beans plus a professional basketball.

The detectives were at the door of the toy store when Pete saw them.

Pistol Pete was six years old and a fan of the Wild West. He sported a gun belt, holster, and water pistol. He drew the pistol on children who passed his house. If they didn't reach for the sky fast enough, he threatened to squirt them between the eyes. Often he made good.

His real name was Peter Peabody. The name didn't fit the fearless sheriff of Idaville, defender of law and order. So he called himself Pistol Pete.

The children of the neighborhood had another name for him. They called him the Town Bell. They often felt like wringing his neck.

He pointed his water pistol at Encyclopedia and Sally and commanded, “Stick 'em up!”

The detectives raised their hands.

“Don't shoot!” Sally said, fighting back a chuckle.

“Don't be scared. I'm just practicing my fast draw,” Pistol Pete explained. “Butch Ribrock wants me to pull a holdup at the jelly-bean contest.”

Everyone got along with Butch Ribrock by keeping their distance. He looked like he had his fun knocking out a Ford with a smack on the bumper.

“Butch promised me I'd get my name in the newspapers if I held up the jelly-bean contest,” Pistol Pete said. “I'll be the most famous gunslinger west of California.”

“I think we'd better keep an eye on Butch,” Encyclopedia said.

“Every minute,” Sally agreed.

“Butch is sure he'll win the contest,” Pistol Pete stated. “He promised me half the jelly beans.”

“You told him you'd pull the holdup?” Encyclopedia asked in amazement.

“Sure,” replied Pistol Pete. “I'll just be doing my thing.” He twirled his water pistol into his holster like a pro.

“Butch fast-talked you,” Sally said. “Don't pull a holdup half-cocked. Think it over first.”

The small gunslinger was thinking it over as the detectives entered the toy store. A crowd of children was waiting for the jelly-bean contest to begin.

Mr. Whitten, the owner of the toy store, came from a back room. He carried a glass jar full of jelly beans. With him was his niece, Trudy Pickens.

Instantly Encyclopedia was alerted. Trudy had a crush on Butch Ribrock.

Mr. Whitten put the jar of jelly beans on top of a counter. He wrote on a card and showed it to Trudy. Then he slid the card under the jar.

“I've written the winning number of jelly beans on the card,” he announced. “Only Trudy and I know the number.”

Trudy passed out paper and pencils. The children were to write down the number of jelly beans they thought were in the jar.

Suddenly a high-pitched voice demanded, “Stick 'em up!”

It was Pistol Pete. He was pointing his gun at Trudy.

Trudy seemed nervous. She held up five fingers on her left hand and only four on her right. Her right thumb was bent into her palm.

“Why the bent thumb?” Sally whispered to Encyclopedia.

“Don't know yet,” Encyclopedia whispered back.

“The jelly beans or your life,” Pistol Pete snarled.

“Get lost!” someone cried. “Who opened your cage?” someone else cried. Those were the kindest remarks.

“Uh-oh,” the shortest sheriff in America muttered. “Time to hit the trail.” He squirted himself in the head and went thataway out the door.

Trudy collected the papers and pencils and passed them to Mr. Whitten. He read out loud the number of jelly beans the children had written.

“I'm sorry,” he said. “No one has it right so far. But forty-five is closest.” He glanced over the children. “Do I have everyone's number?”

“Not mine,” shouted Butch as he scribbled on his paper. He passed it to Mr. Whitten.

Mr. Whitten raised Butch's paper and the card from under the jelly-bean jar. On both was written 54.

“Fifty-four is correct!” Mr. Whitten announced. “We have a winner!”

“How could Butch guess the winning number?” Sally wondered. “He had to cheat!”

“I'm sure he did,” Encyclopedia said.

WHAT MADE ENCYCLOPEDIA SURE?

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The Case of the Soccer Scheme

On the field in South Park the Chipmunks and Cobras soccer teams were warming up for the game to decide the league championship for boys twelve and under.

Encyclopedia and Sally stood on the sideline with Hugh Canfield, a school friend. Hugh was manager of the Chipmunks.

“Who are those two Cobras?” Sally asked. “The ones heading the ball to each other.”

“They're the Hackanstack twins, Vince and Vernon,” Hugh said.

“They look awful tough,” Sally said.

“They're mean and tough,” Hugh replied. “They talk trash to the other team. They say things like, ‘With a head like yours, you can be sure of one point.'”

“How can you tell which twin is which?” Sally said. “Jerseys ought to have more than a number. They should have the player's name, too. The Cobra uniforms have just numbers.”

“That wouldn't help because they have the same last name,” Hugh said. “A soccer uniform usually has just a number.”

The game started and wasn't three minutes old when the referee blew his whistle.

“Chipmunk number eight, you were holding,” he called.

He awarded the Cobras a free kick from the spot of the foul. The spot was too far from the Chipmunks' goal to threaten a score.

“It looked to me like the Cobra did the holding,” Sally said.

A woman near Sally turned and spoke sharply. “The referee calls them as he sees them. He's closer to the action than you are. You should learn to respect authority, young lady.”

“Must be a Cobra mother,” Hugh mumbled.

Five minutes later, the referee called a foul against a Cobra. “You were holding, Bob,” he said. “Because number eight of the Chipmunks held you earlier, don't try to get even. I want a clean game.”

A Chipmunk kicked downfield. A Cobra player trapped the ball and back-footed it to a teammate. A Chipmunk player cut off the pass and stole the ball.

“Attaboy, Frank!” Hugh hollered at the Chipmunk.

Frank sparked an attack that kept the ball deep in the Cobras' end of the field. The Cobras defended well. The Chipmunks failed to score.

The half ended in a 0–0 deadlock.

Late in the second half the referee blew his whistle and pointed to a Chipmunk. “Number three,” he hollered, “you were charging.”

“That's Rick Haywood,” Hugh said. “Cool it, Rick!”

Rick had let loose a landslide of protests. The referee waved a yellow card at him.

“A warning,” Hugh said anxiously. “If Rick doesn't calm down, it's good-bye. He's out of the game! Our one substitute banged up his foot skateboarding. If Rick gets thrown out, we'll be ten men against the Cobras' eleven.”

Rick didn't calm down. He pinched his nose and stomped around. The referee warned him again and finally waved him out of the game.

Play went on. The Chipmunks held off the Cobras' attacks despite having one less player and an overdose of the Hackanstack twins.

The twins played by their own rules. In front of the referee they were as well mannered as boys at a garden party. Behind the referee's back they acted like a demolition derby. They grabbed jerseys, dug elbows into ribs, tripped, and charged.

The Chipmunk rooters screamed. The referee was unmoved. He was watching the player with the ball. He couldn't call a foul he did not see.

“There are seventeen rules in soccer, and the twins have broken all of them this season,” Hugh said.

With fewer than two minutes to play, a Cobra fell in the close-quarter battling by the Chipmunk goal. He lay on the ground as if in terrible pain.

The referee immediately blew his whistle. “Chipmunk number four, you pushed Vince off the ball,” he said.

Maybe, Encyclopedia thought. The push wasn't clear from the sideline.

The referee stooped over to the fallen Cobra, one of the Hackanstack twins. “Are you all right, Vince?”

“I'll be all right,” Vince said bravely.

The pushing had been called within the penalty zone. The referee awarded the Cobras a penalty kick.

The players on both teams took positions ten feet from where the referee had placed the ball on the ground. Unlike a free kick, a penalty kick could be stopped only by the goalie.

Vince, who had suddenly become unhurt, strode to the ball. He had a clear, straight, 12-yard shot to the goal. Art Drum, the Chipmunk goalie, crouched, ready to spring for the ball.

“Art has to be lucky,” Hugh said glumly. “A goalie seldom stops a penalty kick.”

The braces on Vince's teeth flashed in a wicked grin as he stepped up and kicked. The ball flew past Art and into the net.

The Cobras' rooters cheered and slapped each other on the back.

With one fewer player, the Chipmunks couldn't break through the Cobras' defense before time ran out.

The Cobras won, 1–0.

“The game shouldn't count,” Sally grumbled. “The referee helped the Cobras win. How can we prove it, Encyclopedia?”

“Easily,” replied the boy detective. “The referee said so.”

WHAT DID THE REFEREE SAY?

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Click here for the solution to “The Case of the Soccer Scheme.”
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