The Clue of the Linoleum Lederhosen Read online

  Rick stopped in his tracks. “What?” he said. “Geez.”

  “My fridge,” said Mrs. Mandrake, “is the size of a city block. I am serious about my Klondikes.”

  Lily wanted to hear more about the ransom. “Who was it who called? A man or a woman?”

  “I haven’t the faintest idea.”

  “When did they call?”

  “No idea.”

  “Where did they say to leave the money?”

  “Haven’t the foggiest.”

  “They must have said something! When does someone have to give them the money by?”

  “Darling moppet, hush—cease your charming prattle. Really—no idea whatsoever. Sid just mentioned it in passing.”

  Rick jumped in. “Did I, uh, did I overhear that you have a priceless necklace?”

  “I do have a priceless necklace. Whether you were eavesdropping when I spoke of it, you would know better than me.”

  “Where does someone hide a necklace like that?” asked Rick, plucking at his knuckles. “You know, priceless. Really … priceless.”

  Mrs. Mandrake simply answered, “I have taken certain precautions to make sure the necklace is in no danger.” She smiled.

  “What would, eh, what would those be?” asked Rick.

  “Why do you ask, Rick?”

  “I just have the kind of inquisitive mind that loves to know … about necklaces … and, you know, precautions.”

  “Do you ever sit at home in the evenings, Rick, and ask yourself why you’re alone?” asked Mrs. Mandrake. “I’ll tell you. You don’t really inspire confidence in a woman. I know the hearts of girls from six to sixty-six. When a man asks for floor plans of a woman’s house and says things like ‘Do you ever leave the secret door ajar?’ a lady’s thoughts, I’m afraid, turn from a milky-white steed and a merry wedding at the chapel in the woods to deadbolts and laser-operated motion detectors.”

  “Speaking of steeds, you heard of my steed?” interrupted Eddie Wax. “Her name was Stumpy and she was sired on the outer banks of Kansas and she was the bestest horse ever to gallop her way to victory and free pie.”

  Suddenly Lily froze. Then she pointed, a look of terror on her face.

  Rick kept talking to Mrs. Mandrake. “How’d you, eh, make your big money?”

  “My husband.”

  “How’d he make his big money?”

  “He invented raisin pants.”

  “Raisin pants.” Rick slapped himself in the forehead with the heel of his hand. “Raisin pants! All it takes is one brilliant idea, and you—”

  “A BEAR!” yelled Eddie Wax, pointing where Lily pointed.

  Indeed, there in the shrubs was a bear— fangs glinting, eyes yellow—ready to tear them to pieces.

  Jasper and the Manley Boys had been wandering up the slope for an— Oh, are you interested in the bear?

  All right. Okay. You win. We can do that.

  Four humans cowered before the snarling bear.

  “It’s a grizzly,” whispered Lily.

  “Happily,” said Mrs. Mandrake, “the soft parts of my neck are completely protected by pearls. Always remember, little girl, that it pays to pamper your jugular.” She whooped defiantly, “Slash away, Bruno! There are two inches of flawless South Sea nacre between you and my lifeblood!”

  Rick had gotten down on the ground and rolled himself into a ball. He was trying to roll away but found himself lumpy.

  Meanwhile, Lily tried to remember whether you were supposed to run at a bear making loud sounds. That might be what you do for a jackal. She definitely thought you were supposed to run at jackals. At the moment she couldn’t keep anything straight. Wilderness advice kept pouring into her panicked brain. Deer are frightened off by soap. Tarantulas can jump. And bears … bears…

  Suddenly she remembered. She said carefully, “Whatever you do, don’t—look—in—its— eyes. And don’t—turn—your—back—on it, or it will think you’re prey. And speak—slowly— in a monotone—kind—of—voice.”

  “Speak in a monotone?!?” exclaimed Rick, his head between his knees.

  “Goodness gracious, child, we’re doomed,” said Mrs. Mandrake, fanning herself. “My speaking voice is relentlessly fascinating.”

  With all this noise, Lily was sure the bear was going to pounce. She tensed herself.

  The bear glared.

  She took a step back.

  The bear, however, didn’t move an inch.

  Lily squinted. Mrs. Mandrake had closed her eyes and held her arms out in front of her.

  Lily took a step closer to the bear.

  Nothing happened.

  She walked right up to the bear. She reached out and touched it. “Hey,” she said, “this is a stuffed bear’s head.”

  Mrs. Mandrake opened her eyes. “How brave of you,” she said.

  Lily said shyly, “I was prepared for this kind of thing by my best friend’s parents.”

  “Lily, run!” cried Eddie. “It still has its teeth!”

  “It’s just a head,” said Lily. “It’s mounted on a board.”

  “That means you can’t shoot it through the heart!” screamed Eddie. “It’s immortal!”

  Everyone else looked at Eddie like he was loopy.

  Meanwhile, Lily reached up and dislodged the mounted bear’s head from the branches. She examined it closely.

  “That’s weird,” she said. “I wonder what it’s doing out here?”

  It was the head of a real bear that had been hunted long ago. The jaws were open in a snarl. There was a little silver plaque below the head that had the name of the hunter who had shot it, Jarris Tuttle, and the year, 1923.

  Eddie was standing right next to Lily, smelling like peanut butter and whispering, “Shouldn’t we leave it there?”

  Lily said, “It belongs to the hotel.”

  “I reckon,” said Eddie, “it belongs to the bear.”

  Something about this thought struck Lily. Slowly, she put the head down in the leaves.

  “That was very startling,” said Mrs. Mandrake.

  “Sure was,” said Rick.

  Mrs. Mandrake frowned. “I didn’t see much evidence of your ability to control things with your mind.”

  “I told you!” said Rick. “I choose not to use my powers, because it would upset the balance of”—he shrugged—“good and evil. And left and right.”

  “Let’s keep going,” said Lily. “The Quints are still out there.”

  They continued down the path.

  Sagging in the dried leaves, the bear’s head seemed to watch them as they went, peering through the shadows of the forest with its dusty glass eyes.

  Jasper and the Manley Boys had been wandering up the slope for an hour or so without finding anything.

  It was not much fun to be in a search party with the Manley Boys. First of all, Jasper was allergic to the mountain laurel, so his nose was running. Second, the Manley Boys wanted a lot of attention for their powers of detection.

  “Look!” exclaimed Jank, pointing. “That shrub is caught up a tree! We got to save it immediately!”

  Jasper said, “I believe that’s ivy.”

  “Here, boy! Here, Ivy!” said Fud, clapping smartly in a way that must have once attracted his schnauzer.

  “I don’t think the ivy wants to come down,” said Jasper. “It is a plant.”

  “What do you even know?” said Jank, angrily. “Why are you so big faced?”

  Fud said, “You’re stupid.”

  “Jasper has goop-nose,” said Fud. “Like a little baby.”

  Jank said, “Jasper is a little baby.”

  “My nose is running,” said Jasper, “because I suffer from hay fever brought on by the mountain laurel.”

  “You eat diapers,” said Jank.

  “Might we continue?” said Jasper. “The Quints could be in peril.”

  “You’re dumb,” said Fud. “And your father was a sound from outer space.”

  “He was not a sound,” said Jasper. �
�He was a signal.”

  “Same thing.”

  “It is not the same thing.”

  “I call that every snot-nosed person whose father was a signal from outer space gets punched,” said Jank. Both he and Fud hit Jasper in the arm.

  Then they kept walking.

  Jasper rubbed his arms and frowned. He followed the Manleys through a little grove of birch trees. They were far up the side of the mountain.

  “It would be keen if we could find the Hooper Quints first before anyone else,” said Fud. “It would be yet another case solved by those daring Manley Boys.”

  “Righto,” said Jank. “Those handsome, daring Manley Boys do it again.”

  “We’d like, in thanks, some free Jell-O. And we’d like to thank all of the people of this town who made our detection possible.”

  “You haven’t solved anything yet,” said Jasper.

  “We solved the mystery of where that weird smell came from. From you.”

  Jasper was usually not a very violent person at all, but he felt violent right then. The combination of meanness and stupidity made him want to bust people up. Or cry with frustration. For one thing, he couldn’t believe the Manleys were making fun of his father for being a highly concentrated beam of information from the Horsehead Nebula.

  Jasper had always taken it for granted that kindness, respect, and cooperation were logical. Nothing else was logical. Cruelty wasn’t logical. Crime wasn’t logical. Jasper never ceased to believe that, sooner or later, people would come to their senses and work together for the perfection of absolutely everything. There would be rings of light around towers, and boys and girls would slip through the air in antigravity halters to buffets floating over the seas, where they would eat the succulent fruits of the Venusian jungles and share giant deviled-egg sandwiches made from the huge plasma-jays of Io. There would be a lightness over all of Earth.

  Weightlessness, after all, is not just anti-gravity; it is learning to long for the sky more than the safety of the dirt.

  “By dame is Jadper Dapp,” said Jank, holding his nose. “I ab a ruddy-dose baby.”

  “I suffer from hay fever,” began Jasper, “brought on by mountain laur—” but Fud flung out his arms and stopped them.

  “Whoa,” Fud exclaimed. “What’s that?”

  They looked up.

  Fud said, “See? It’s a moose—stuck in that tree!”

  “Poor thing,” said Jank. “Here, moose. Here, moosey!”

  “I’m not sure you should worry,” said Jasper. “I believe that is a stuffed moose head.”

  “It’s trapped! It can’t get down!”

  “It is not trapped,” said Jasper. “It is stuffed.”

  “I don’t see it, you know, shimmying down a branch,” said Fud. “Do you, Mr. Booger-nose? So I guess that’s called trapped.”

  Jasper put his fists in his pockets. He tried to remind himself that the Manley Boys, for once, were being compassionate. They were truly worried about the stuffed moose head, and this was at least some sign of kindness.

  He let them, therefore, clamber up the tree. He let them bring the moose head down and give it water, and pet it, and ask it where its mommy and legs were. He watched patiently as they became convinced that the moose head was being a jerk because it wouldn’t say anything, and they started to tease it.

  “You have a big nose, and it’s the biggest, and it’s even a snottier nose than Jasper’s.”

  This all could have gone on for some time, but Jasper reminded them that they wanted to be the first to find the Quints.

  “We would have, too, if it hadn’t been for that stupid moose,” said Jank.

  “Yeah,” said Fud. “Stupid.”

  “Moose,” said Jank, shaking his head.

  They left the moose head at the bottom of the tree and kept on walking.

  They climbed higher up the mountain. They went through rocky outcroppings. They wandered through little fir woods that clustered around streams. They crawled over granite faces. The Manley Boys were good at climbing—swift and agile.

  They were walking along the base of a cliff when suddenly Jasper noticed footprints in the mud of the path. The footprints headed into the bushes. He stepped off the path.

  “Hey, chaps,” he hissed.

  They turned around.

  He pointed to the footprints.

  The Manley Boys nodded. The three of them crept carefully into the bushes.

  There, at the bottom of the cliff, was a cave half covered with broken tree limbs.

  “That’s the ticket,” muttered Jank enthusiastically. He asked Fud, “You have the flashlight?” He held out his hand, peering into the darkness of the grotto.

  “Sure do,” said Fud. He drew it out of his belt and fiddled with it. He smacked it against his hand. “Darn. Out of batteries,” he said.

  Jasper cleared his throat. “That is the pepper grinder from the hotel restaurant,” he said.

  They looked at it, startled.

  “Weird,” said Jank.

  “Shoot,” said Fud.

  “I have a flashlight” said Jasper, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a thin cylinder that he switched on.

  Together, they stepped carefully into the cave.

  And something was flung at them—Jasper crouched—Fud and Jank tumbled backward—and all around them—wings!

  “Bats!” said Jasper through the hurtling bodies. “We startled them!”

  A stream of bats flew out of the cave and swooped around the woods, their wings shuffling in the air.

  Jank and Fud got back to their feet. They both were saying “Ewww,” and brushing themselves off. “Bat spit,” one said.

  Jasper said, “Don’t be alarmed. Bats are almost entirely harmless.”

  “They’re gross!” said Fud. “They’ve touched caves.”

  Jasper looked at Fud for a long silent minute, then urged, “Let’s go.” Shining his light in front of him, he walked into the darkened entrance. Jank and Fud looked over his shoulders.

  Someone had piled rocks near the entrance to make a rough staircase. The three boys went down five steps and found themselves in a big cavern.

  Jasper shone the light around, illuminating a few rough furnishings: an old rug, a chair, a desk with a shortwave radio, which, though thankfully off, was tuned to an easy listening station.

  There, in the corner, were five little suitcases.

  The boys ran over to the suitcases and popped them open.

  Inside each one, beyond a few pairs of clean underwear and a toothbrush, was a little sailor suit—and a pair of linoleum lederhosen.

  “Jupiter’s moons!” exclaimed Jasper. “These must belong to the Quints!” He shone the flashlight around wildly. There was a hole in the wall leading into another cavern.

  Fud headed over to check it out. He handed Jasper the pepper grinder. “You hold the other light, too,” he said.

  Jank, looking at the passageway, guessed, “That must be where the smugglers have their boat.”

  Jasper said, “What smugglers?”

  “The smugglers we’re looking for.”

  “We’re looking for a kidnapper.”

  “That must be where he keeps his boat.”

  Fud explained, “They always keep a boat at the river in their cave.”

  “I don’t think it is likely there will be a river on a mountaintop.”

  “There’s always a river.”

  “What use would a boat be on a mountain?”

  “Well,” said Fud, “at least my dad isn’t a smell from outer space.”

  “What does that,” said Jasper, “have to do with anything?”

  “I’m just saying, at least my dad isn’t a Martian smell.”

  “He was not a smell!” exclaimed Jasper, finally at the end of his rope. “I have told you before, he was a highly concentrated beam of binary information projected from the region of the Horsehead Nebula!”

  “Sorry, you snot-nosed—”

&nb
sp; “I am allergic to mountain laurel!”

  “Hey,” said Fud, “what’s a neb—”

  “A mysterious cloud of floating particles and gases!”

  “And what’s binary infor—”

  “It is information made up entirely of ones and zeros!”

  “Made up of ones and zeros?”

  “That’s what it is!”

  “Heh,” Jank said. “Too bad his son only inherited the zeros.”

  There was a moment of awed silence. Then Fud burst out, “WHOA! WHOA! WE HAVE SOLVED THE MYSTERY OF THE FUNNIEST GUY ON THE PLANET EARTH! AND IT IS MY BROTHER JANK!”

  Jank repeated, “Too bad his son only inherited the zeros, yeah? I said, ‘Too bad his son only got the zeros.’ “

  Fud slapped his brother on the back. The two of them were laughing hysterically.

  “Would you people keep it down?” said a man in a mask with a gun.

  “Did you hear what he said?” screamed Fud. “This guy is the funniest guy ever! Did you hear him?”

  “First, Jasper said—Jasper Dash—he said, ‘The information of my dad is made up of only the ones and zeros,’ and I said, ‘It’s too bad that—’ “

  “Hey! Shh! Shhhhh! Shut up!” the man in the black ski mask demanded. “I can hardly call this a ‘secret hideout’ with you making all that noise laughing like hyenas.”

  “Just listen,” said Jank.

  “Jank?” said Fud.

  “Yes, Fud?” said Jank.

  “There’s a man with a gun.”

  “So there is,” said the man with the gun. “About to tie you up.”

  “Before you gag us,” said Jank, “let me tell you my joke.”

  “No,” said the man with the gun. “I’d like to gag you first.”

  Jasper demanded, “Where are the Quints, you devil?”

  “You’re about to find out,” said the man. “First I’m going to have you tie each other up.” He waved the gun. “Go over there and pick up that rope.” Fud picked it up. “Now wrap it tightly around Mr. Dash’s ankles. Tightly! Tighter!” He waited. “Now tie a knot.”

  Fud hesitated. “Okay,” he said.

  “Tie it!”

  Fud asked, somewhat embarrassed, “Can you do the shoe-tie rhyme? You know, ‘Cross the river, under the bridge, bunny hops around the—’”