Not My Thing

‘I was in my hide. It wasn’t easy to see much of them. It happened fast. One of them was tall and thin. The other was small and thin. Both were wearing big sun-hats so I couldn’t see their faces. I was looking down on them, but I did get the number of their car.’

‘That was smart of you,’ Lepski said. ‘What’s the number?’

‘PC 766880.’

‘Hold it a minute.’ Lepski snatched up the telephone. ‘Charlie?’

‘Who else?’ Tanner growled.

‘Trace car number PC 766880 fast!’

‘That number rings a bell. Hang on.’

Lepski drummed on his desk while he waited, then Tanner said, ‘That car was reported stolen early this morning.’

‘Who owns it?’

‘The Reverend Owen.’

‘Car been found?’

‘Not yet.’

‘Okay, Charlie, put out an emergency alert. We want this car found, and when it’s found it’s to be impounded for fingerprints. It could be a kidnap car. Okay?’

‘So at last we’re in business,’ Tanner said. ‘Leave it to me,’ and he hung up.

The fat boy was listening to all this and he nodded his approval.

‘You sure are the best detective on the force,’ he said. ‘Can I go now? I’ll be late for dinner.’

‘You’ll have to stay a while, Freddy. Do you want to call your parents?’

‘I guess I’d better.’

‘Okay. Now, listen, Freddy, if this is a kidnap job, don’t say a thing. Understand? Tell your dad you have met friends and you won’t be home.’

The fat boy frowned.

‘How about my dinner? I’m hungry.’

‘I’ll fix that,’ Lepski said, containing his impatience. ‘How about a nice juicy cheeseburger? I’ll tell someone to bring it to you.’

‘I’d rather have a double hamburger and plenty of onions.’

Lepski felt his blood pressure rise. He snatched up the telephone receiver.

‘Charlie! Send up a double hamburger with lots of onions and, for God’s sake, don’t make a thing of it!’ and he slammed down the receiver.

While the fat boy telephoned his home and explained he wouldn’t be back for dinner, Lepski listened, ready to snatch the receiver from him if he said the wrong thing, but the fat boy’s performance was convincing. As he hung up, he said, a little sadly, ‘My ma doesn’t really care. My pa cares less.’

‘That’s the way the cookie crumbles, Freddy,’ Lepski said, suddenly sorry for this fat boy. ‘Now, let’s get down to business.’

Lepski listened to the boy’s description of the two kidnappers: one wearing a white suit, the other wearing a T-shirt and dark-green slacks. More than that he couldn’t say.

Mrs Sherman Jamison, the wife of the richest and most powerful man in the city, kidnapped! The FBI would have to be notified, but first Chief of Police Terrell who was probably in his garden, tending his roses. Then Beigler must be notified. He regarded the fat boy uneasily. If this kid was conning him! But he didn’t think so.

‘Look, Freddy, you are quite sure all this is the truth?’

‘I’m telling you,’ the fat boy said impatiently. ‘You don’t have to believe me. Where’s this hamburger? I’m hungry.’

Lepski drew in a deep breath and picked up the telephone receiver. In minutes, he was reporting to Terrell.

‘I’ll be right down,’ Terrell said. ‘Keep the boy with you,’ and he hung up.

A patrolman came into the Detectives’ room, carrying a plastic sack.

‘Someone here wants a hamburger with onions?’ he asked, an injured look on his face.

‘Give it to him!’ Lepski snarled, waving to the fat boy. ‘And take that stupid look off your stupid face!’

The patrolman dropped the sack onto the fat boy’s lap and beat a hurried retreat.

Lepski telephoned Beigler, knowing he was probably drinking coffee and watching the games on the television.

The news Lepski told him made Beigler grunt with dismay.

‘I’ll be right down. The Chief know?’

‘He’s on his way,’ Lepski said, and hung up.

The fat boy was beginning to munch one of the hamburgers.

Lepski suddenly remembered that Carroll would be waiting for him to take her to a movie and then to dinner. He looked at his watch, then released a moan. Snatching up the telephone receiver, he called Charlie Tanner.

‘Charlie! Call Carroll and tell her I have an emergency and won’t be able to take her out tonight. Call her right away!’

‘Not me!’ Tanner said. He knew only too well of Carroll’s explosive temper. ‘I want to keep my right ear-drum intact. You call her.’

‘You heard what I said!’ Lepski yelled. ‘Call her or I’ll tear your liver out!’ and he slammed down the receiver.

The fat boy, his mouth full, nodded his approval.

‘You are sure the best detective on the force, Mr Lepski,’ he mumbled. ‘Boy! That’s telling him!’

Ten minutes later, Chief of Police Fred Terrell, a big, burly man with sandy hair, strode into the Detectives’ room. He took the fat boy into his office and listened to the account of the kidnapping, making occasional notes.

‘That’s fine, Freddy,’ he said, when he was satisfied the fat boy had nothing further to tell him. ‘You have been most helpful. I am now relying on you not to say anything about this to anyone. It is vitally important when dealing with kidnappers to keep them guessing.’

‘Mr Lepski told me that,’ the fat boy said. ‘Okay.’