Текст книги "Theodore Boone: The Accused"

Автор книги: John Grisham

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Текущая страница: 10 (всего у книги 13 страниц)

Chapter 19

Saturday morning, Theo awoke to the sounds of heavy thunder and raindrops pecking at his window. He slowly crawled out of bed and peeked through the curtains. Water was standing in puddles in the backyard. No golf today. Judge followed him downstairs where his parents were busy in the kitchen cooking pancakes and sausage and talking, of course, about the weather. Theo would never understand why adults spent so much time on the subject of the weather. They couldn’t change it.

The town was buzzing with the news that Pete Duffy had been spotted at O’Hare International Airport in Chicago. He had tried to pay cash for a one-way ticket on a flight to Mexico City, but was delayed when the clerk noticed something odd about his fake passport. The clerk notified her supervisor. At that point, Duffy fled the ticket counter and disappeared into a crowd. The FBI identified him by lifting a fingerprint from the passport, and by analyzing video footage. There was a photo of Duffy on the front page of the Strattenburg newspaper, and he was not recognizable, at least in Theo’s opinion. He was wearing some type of beret, thick-framed eyeglasses, the makings of a beard, and his hair was blond, almost white.

“The FBI has this technology that can enhance a photo of a person’s face and see things not visible to the naked eye,” Mr. Boone was explaining as if he knew a great deal about FBI techniques. Theo was at the table, eating pancakes, feeding some to Judge, staring at the black-and-white photo of Pete Duffy, and giving thanks that the man was back in the news. Maybe the town would spend a few days rekindling its interest in Pete Duffy and forget about that other criminal—Theo Boone.

“I wonder where he’s been all week?” Mrs. Boone asked as she sipped her coffee and read the obituaries.

“Working on his new look, I guess,” replied Mr. Boone. “Doing his hair, grooming his beard. A beret? Give me a break. A guy walking through O’Hare wearing a beret is bound to attract attention.”

“It sure doesn’t look like Pete Duffy,” Theo said.

“It’s him,” Mr. Boone said with certainty. “He’s changed his looks, got some cash, bought him some new papers, though they must not be very good, and he almost got away.”

“I’d like to get away,” Theo said.

“Theo,” Mrs. Boone said.

“It’s true, Mom. I’d like to bolt out of here and go hide someplace.”

“Things are gonna be okay, Theo,” Mr. Boone said.

“Oh really? How do you figure that? I have the cops breathing down my neck, ready to haul me into Youth Court. And I have some crazy stalker chasing me all over town with a knife, ready to slash my tires again. Sure, Dad, things are really looking great.”

“Relax, Theo. You’re innocent and you will be proven innocent.”

“Okay, Dad, here’s the question. Do you think the person who robbed Big Mac’s is the same person who’s slashing tires, throwing rocks, and spreading all the garbage on the Internet?”

Mr. Boone chewed on a bite of sausage for a few seconds, then said, “I do.”

“Mom?”

“I believe so.”

“That makes three of us. To me it’s pretty obvious. So why can’t we convince the police of this?”

“I think we can, Theo,” Mr. Boone said. “They’re still investigating the break-in and burglary. I trust the police and I think they’ll catch the criminals.”

“Well, I think they’ve already decided it’s me. That guy Vorman thinks I’m lying. I don’t like him. He gives me the creeps.”

“Things will be fine, Theo,” Mrs. Boone said, patting his arm, then Theo saw her glance at his father. They held each other’s gaze for a second or so, and it was not a look of confidence. They were as worried as Theo, maybe more.

After breakfast, Theo and his dad drove to Gil’s Wheels for yet another new tire. At Mr. Boone’s request, Gil disappeared into the rear of his store and found the first two damaged tires. He gave them to Mr. Boone, who now had a collection of three. Mr. Boone paid for numbers two and three, and paid the eight dollars Theo owed on the first tire. Gil assured them that there was no epidemic of tire slashings in town; in fact, he had seen only three the entire week, all of which belonged to Theo.

Outside the bike shop, the rain had stopped, but the skies were still cloudy and threatening. For a moment, Theo and his father talked about driving to the golf course and waiting on the weather. The course, though, would be soaked, and if it was opened later in the morning there would be a crowd. Theo knew that a crowded golf course was worse than no course at all. They agreed that it was not a good idea.

Ike had texted twice during the morning and wanted to meet. Back home Theo puttered around the house and watched the weather. After an hour he announced that he was bored and explained to his parents that Ike had invited him for lunch. They said yes, and Theo took off on his bike.

Ike looked worse than usual. His eyes were red and puffy with dark circles just below them. “I’ve been up all night,” he said as Theo took a chair. “Didn’t sleep a wink. Spent the whole night reading through divorce files, and you want to know something, Theo, there are a lot of sad folks out there who need to get divorced. I’ve never been so depressed in my life. I don’t know how your mother does this kind of work every day of the week. Wives accuse husbands of all manner of terrible behavior. Husbands accuse wives of even worse. They claw each other’s eyes out over who gets the house, the cars, the bank accounts, the furniture, but man, when it comes to who gets the kids—it’s worse than cage fighting. Horrible stuff, Theo.”

Theo just sat and listened. Ike was hyper, probably jazzed on coffee and one of his little super juice drinks that guaranteed quick energy. He blitzed on: “So, I still like my theory. Do you?”

“Sure, Ike. It’s the best theory yet.”

“Thank you.”

“They slashed my bike tire again yesterday, at the VFW.”

Ike paused, pondered this, took a swig of coffee. “We gotta catch ’em, Theo.”

“The police do not believe me, Ike.”

“We gotta move fast.” Ike picked up his notepad and flipped some pages. “I found two cases that we should explore. Both are nasty divorces from the Secured Docket, which, of course, means that the court has locked away the files, so only the lawyers have access. The first case involves Mr. and Mrs. Rockworth. I won’t bore you with the details, but it’s safe to say that Mr. Rockworth does not like your mother. Two children involved, huge fight over who should get custody, with both parents doing a pretty good job of proving that neither was fit to raise kids. After a bitter trial, Mrs. Rockworth was given custody and Mr. Rockworth was given liberal visitation rights with the kids, both of whom are in counseling. The judge ordered Mr. Rockworth to pay eighteen thousand dollars in attorney fees to the firm of Boone & Boone. Do you know anybody named Rockworth?”

“No. How old are the kids?”

“The boy is twelve, in the seventh grade at the middle school. He has an older sister who’s fifteen. Evidently, both wanted to live with their father. The family has lived here for just a couple of years, which explains why you haven’t heard of them.”

“Is this your top suspect?”

“Oh no, just a possibility. I have a much better prospect—the fighting Finns! The divorce is far from final with a trial set for next month. These people have spent every dime they had trying to prove the other is a bigger creep. Mrs. Finn is pretty crazy and has done time in the nuthouse. Mr. Finn can’t stay sober and tends to gamble too much. All kind of bad habits, on both ends. Three children, but the eighteen-year-old daughter has already left home. The other two are twelve and fourteen, both boys, and they really don’t like their mother, who, of course, is represented by your mother. Tons of bad blood here, Theo, and it’s safe to say that Mr. Finn and the two boys have an intense dislike for your mother and anybody else named Boone. This divorce has been going on for over a year and it’s vicious. These people have driven themselves loony.”

“What are the boys’ names?”

“Jonah Finn, age twelve, seventh grade. Jessie Finn, age fourteen, ninth grade.”

Theo closed his eyes and tried to place the names with faces, but he could not. “Don’t know them.”

“I thought you were a fairly popular kid at school, Theo. Do you know anyone?”

“I’m in the eighth grade, Ike. We don’t mix too much with the seventh grade, nor does the seventh grade mix with the sixth, and so on. We have different classes, different schedules. How much do you know about these guys?”

“The basics, but not much more, at least for the younger one, Jonah. The court has appointed a guardian to look out for their best interests, and both boys have expressed a strong desire to live with their father. Their mother, through her talented lawyer, claims the boys want to live with their father because he lets them do whatever they want, including smoking cigarettes and drinking beer. Can you imagine a seventh grader drinking beer around the house with his dad?”

“No, I cannot. These are probably pretty tough kids, right?”

“They’ve had a rough life, moved around a lot, changed homes and schools. Not much stability. Yes, I’d guess that these two boys are pretty much on their own. Last year Jessie was caught with marijuana and went through Youth Court. He got probation. The boys were sent to a foster home three months ago as sort of a safe house, until the divorce was over, but they kept running away. As of now they’re living with their mother, who works a night shift at the hospital. I doubt if there’s much supervision. It’s a mess, Theo, but these two boys are our prime suspects. Everything fits. A two-man team. A strong dislike for your mother. The motive to take revenge against you. The capacity to engage in vandalism and even burglarize a computer store. We need to find out more about them.”

“I don’t suppose my mother is involved in a divorce for a Mr. and Mrs. Scheer?”

Ike looked at his notes, flipped a page, then said, “No. Why?”

“Just a hunch. A kid I know in Scouts who’s a little different, that’s all.”

“There’s no file on them.”

There was a long pause as Theo and Ike thought about the situation. Ike gulped coffee while Theo stared at the floor. Finally, Theo said, “I need to tell you about my friend Griff.” Theo told the story of Griff’s sister, Amy, and her friend Benny, and his friend Gordy, and the episode in which Gordy was offered a new Linx 0-4 Tablet for fifty dollars by some unknown kid in the high school parking lot. Ike’s red eyes lit up when he heard this.

“This could be huge, Theo,” he said.

“What if it’s Jessie Finn who’s trying to sell the tablet?” Theo asked.

“You gotta make this happen, Theo.”

“But how?”

“If we can get our hands on a stolen tablet, we take it straight to the police who’ll check the registration number. If it came from Big Mac’s, then they’ll get off your back and go after these little Finn thugs.”

From a rear pocket, Ike pulled out his wallet, opened it, and withdrew some cash. He counted out two twenty-dollar bills and a ten. “Here’s fifty bucks. Stick it in your pocket. Go find Griff, tell him to talk to his sister. Make this happen, Theo.”

Theo took the money and stuck it deep in his pocket. He sat down again and said, “But what if it doesn’t work? What if this Gordy guy doesn’t want to handle a stolen tablet, or what if the dude has already sold it to someone else?”

“We won’t know until we try. Do it, Theo. Get it done. And in the meantime, find out all you can about Jonah and Jessie Finn.”

“Thanks, Ike.”

“And don’t worry about the fact that I snooped through your mother’s files. If it is the Finns, and if we solve this little mystery, I’ll talk to Marcella and Woods and take all the blame. Believe me, I’ve done much worse.”

“Thanks, Ike.”

“You’ve already said that. Now get out of here.”

“What about lunch?”

“I’m not hungry. I’m sleepy. See you later.”

Chapter 20

The showers had stopped, but the skies were still threatening. Theo raced across town to Levi Park, on a bluff above the Yancey River, on the eastern edge of Strattenburg. As he pedaled furiously he was hoping the rain had not canceled the Farmer’s Market because he was curious about Lucy the llama. Had she attacked Buck Baloney again? Had she attacked his sidekick Frankie? Would he, Theo, be forced to make another appearance in Animal Court to once more save Miss Petunia’s beloved pet?

The market was still open, with many of the vendors huddled under tent roofs as their customers roamed about with shopping bags and umbrellas. The ground was wet and sticky, everyone’s shoes and boots had at least an inch of mud on the soles. Lucy was next to Miss Petunia’s booth, soaking wet but not perturbed at all. She looked harmless as two small children stopped and gawked. Across the way, on the other side of the entrance, a tiny man in a brown uniform was eating popcorn and talking to a lady who sold corn dogs. Theo presumed he was Frankie. Buck was nowhere in sight.

Theo said hello to Miss Petunia, who was delighted to see her lawyer. She squeezed him and thanked him again for his incredible courtroom heroics, and she happily reported that so far that morning Lucy had behaved herself, as had the two security guards. No spitting, no chasing, nothing out of the ordinary. No complaints from anyone.

Next to her booth was one displaying goat cheese, the handiwork of May Finnemore, who was sitting in a folding chair, knitting, while her spider monkey, Frog, hung from a tent pole that supported the roof over the booth. Why a spider monkey was named Frog had never been adequately explained to Theo. He had asked April, and more than once, but her response had been, “It’s just my mother, Theo.” So much of what May Finnemore did made little sense to anyone. Theo avoided the woman when possible, but not today. May stood and gave Theo an awkward hug. She said, “April’s here.”

“Where?” Theo asked, delighted that he would see her. April despised the Farmer’s Market and rarely sat with her mother as she peddled her dreadful cheese. Theo had tasted it a couple of times and felt like vomiting whenever he saw or smelled it.

“She went that way,” Mrs. Finnemore said, pointing at a row of booths.

“Thanks,” Theo said, and disappeared as quickly as possible. Keeping a sharp eye out for Buck Baloney, he walked past dozens of vendors, most of them in the process of repacking their unsold goods and closing shop. April was standing near a tiny booth where an old bearded man was at work sketching in pencil the portrait of a teenage girl who was seated on a small crate in front of him. For only ten dollars “Mr. Picasso” would do your portrait in less than ten minutes. He had half a dozen samples on display—Elvis, John Wayne, and others.

Theo stopped next to April and said, “Hi.”

“Hello, Theo,” she said with a smile, then she turned and drew close for a better look at his face. “I thought you had a busted lip.”

“I did. The swelling’s gone.”

She was disappointed with his wound. “How was the suspension?”

“Overrated. Pretty boring, really. I actually missed school.” They began to slowly walk away. “What are you doing here?” he asked.

“My mom begged me to come today. She said we might need an extra eyewitness in case Lucy started spitting at people. So far, she hasn’t felt the urge. What are you doing here?”

“I came to check on Lucy, to see if I might be needed in Animal Court again. Can we talk, in secret?”

“Sure.” April was a quiet girl who understood the importance of secrets. Her family life was a wreck, and she often confided in Theo, who always listened thoughtfully. Now, it was her turn to listen. They sat at a small table near an ice-cream vendor, and when Theo was certain no one else could hear, he told April everything.

The ice-cream vendor was closing his booth and needed their table. They began walking again, slowly ambling toward the front of the market. “This is awful, Theo,” she said. “I can’t believe the police are accusing you.”

“I can’t either, but I guess I look pretty guilty.”

“What do your parents think?”

“They’re worried, and I get the feeling they’re doing a lot of talking when I’m not around. You know how parents are.”

“Not really. You have normal parents, Theo. I do not.”

Theo wasn’t sure how to respond to this.

“And Ike thinks it could be related to a bad divorce?”

“Yes, that’s his theory, and it’s a pretty good one. Nothing else makes sense.”

“I sort of know Jonah Finn.”

“You do?”

“Not well, just a little.”

“What’s the scouting report?”

She thought about this as they walked, then said, “Trouble, a loner, misfit, really smart guy who makes bad grades. I think his family is about as whacked-out as mine.”

“How do you know this?”

“There’s a guy in his class, Rodney Tapscott, who lives across the street from me, and he and Jonah hang out some. Do you know Rodney?”

“I know who he is, but I don’t really know him. Doesn’t he play the drums?”

“He tries to. We can hear him across the street.”

“Can you talk to him?”

“About what?”

“About Jonah Finn. I need to find out all I can about this kid. Right now he’s my only suspect and I need information.”

“I’ll see what I can do.”

“And April, this is top secret. I can’t get caught snooping around, and we can’t accuse anybody of anything. This is a long shot, you understand?”

“Got it, Theo.”

Other than April, the two friends Theo believed he could trust the most were Woody Lambert and Chase Whipple. Claiming the three needed to use a rainy Saturday afternoon to begin work on an upcoming project in Chemistry, Theo convinced his two friends to meet and make plans.

The truth was that Chase was the last person in the world Theo would partner with in a Chemistry lab. Chase was a brilliant, mad scientist with a long record of experiments gone haywire. He had started fires and set off explosions, and no lab was safe when Chase was at work. He had been banned from the labs at school unless a teacher was nearby for close surveillance. Woody was indifferent to Math and Science, but did well in History and Government.

They met in the basement game room of the Whipple home, and, after half an hour of Ping-Pong, they got down to business. Of course, first they had to replay the fight. Chase, who had never struck another person in anger, had witnessed the entire brawl and had been thrilled with the excitement. Woody reported that his mother yelled at him, then started crying. His father just shrugged and said, “Boys will be boys.”

Theo swore them to secrecy. He even made them raise their right hands and promise to tell nothing, and when he was satisfied they could be trusted, he told them the entire story. Everything. The slashed tires, broken window, vandalized locker, planted loot, meetings with the detectives, everything. Then he got around to Ike and his research, though Theo did not confess to lifting the password from Vince’s computer. He described how Ike had gone through the law firm’s divorce files and identified a probable suspect, or suspects.

“That’s brilliant,” Woody said.

“It makes sense,” Chase added. “The guy behind all of this is somebody who hates you and you don’t even realize it.”

Theo agreed, and then talked about the Finn boys and their parents’ ugly divorce.

“My brother is in the tenth grade,” Woody said. “I wonder if he knows Jessie Finn.”

“We gotta find out,” Theo said. “That’s our project right now—to find out all we can about these two guys.” Chase left to go upstairs and get his laptop. Woody pulled out his cell phone and called his brother, Tony, but got voice mail. Theo called Griff who reported he had made no progress in getting the name of the ninth grader who was trying to sell black market 0-4 Tablets for fifty dollars. Griff promised to keep trying.

Mrs. Whipple, who was also a lawyer and close friend of Mrs. Boone, brought down a platter of cookies and a carton of milk. She asked how the Chemistry project was going and all three claimed to be excited with their progress. After she left, Chase went to the website of Strattenburg High School, and after a few minutes of browsing said, “There are three hundred and twenty ninth graders at SHS. Guess how many are named Jessie?”

“Four,” Woody said.

“Three,” Theo said.

“Two,” Chase answered. “Jessie Finn and Jessie Neumeyer. We need to get the name from Griff.”

“I’m trying,” Theo said.

“Griff,” Woody hissed. “I’m going to punch that kid out next time I catch him off campus. I can’t believe he jumped on me like that. What a little twerp.”

“Knock it off,” Theo said. “As of now Griff is on our side. Besides, he apologized. So did Baxter.”

“Baxter hasn’t apologized to me. I’d like to see his eye right now. Probably black-and-blue.”

Chase went to Google Earth and typed in the Finn’s address on Edgecomb Street, near the college. He zoomed in and said, “Here’s their house.” Theo and Woody huddled behind Chase, and all three looked at the screen. The Finn home was a two-story white frame on a street lined with several just like it. There was nothing different or remarkable about it. In the backyard there was a small, aboveground pool, and along the back fence there was a storage shed. The information was nice to have, but of no real value.

Theo’s cell phone vibrated in his pocket. He yanked it out, opened it, looked at the screen, and said, “It’s Griff.”

Griff told Theo that his sister had finally made contact with Benny, and Benny had called Gordy, and Gordy had reluctantly said that the guy peddling the 0-4 Tablets was named Jessie somebody, didn’t know his last name and really didn’t know much about him. Griff assured Theo that his sister had not revealed the reason for her interest. Theo again stressed the need for secrecy.

“Now we’re getting somewhere,” Woody said.

“Why don’t we go to the police?” Chase asked. “They can talk to both Jessies in the ninth grade and find out which one is trying to sell the stuff.”

“It’s too early,” Theo said. “Suppose it’s Jessie Finn. When the cops approach him, what’s he gonna do? Admit he’s got a stash of stolen computers and cell phones? Fall on his knees and confess everything? No way. He’ll just deny it all, and if the cops can’t find any of the loot in his backpack, they can’t do anything. He’ll get scared and we’ll never find the stuff.”

“Theo’s right,” Woody added. “We have to buy it from him. Then we give it to the police and they check the registration numbers.”

“How are we going to buy it?” Chase asked.

“That’s the big question,” Theo said. “First, we start with Gordy. If he’ll agree to help us, then he can hook up with Jessie Finn and buy the tablet.”

“I don’t know this Gordy guy,” Woody said, “but I doubt if he’s that stupid. Why would anyone get involved in this mess? We can’t really expect him to buy a tablet he knows is stolen, and then hand it over to us when we’re taking it straight to the police.”

“He won’t get into trouble,” Theo said. “Not if he’s helping solve a crime.”

“I don’t think so,” Woody said.

“I agree with Woody,” Chase said.

“What about Tony, your brother?” Theo asked.

“Are you sure he won’t get into trouble?”

“I’m positive. If he helps the police find stolen goods, they’ll thank him and pat him on the back. I happen to know the law, remember?”

“How could we ever forget,” Chase said.

“Well, as you know, Tony will do anything. He’s an idiot and loves to meddle in everybody else’s business. That’s a great idea, Theo. But where do we get fifty bucks?”

“I’ve already got it,” Theo said.

Woody looked at Chase, who said, “Why am I not surprised?”

“Call him again,” Theo said, and Woody pulled out his cell phone. He smiled as it was ringing, then said, “Hey, Tony, it’s me.” They talked for a few minutes and Woody did not mention their idea of getting Tony involved. Woody explained that they needed some inside dirt on a ninth grader named Jessie Finn. Tony did not know him but said he would start digging.

For half an hour, the gang of three kicked around ideas of how to nail the Finn boys, who by now were guilty beyond any doubt. Chase found their photos from a student directory and printed enlarged copies of their faces. Theo stared at the two, certain he had never seen them before. Jessie Finn had a Facebook page (Jonah did not), and Chase scanned it but found nothing that would interest them or help in their search for clues. Woody, who was sprawled on the sofa playing catch with a Ping-Pong ball, remembered a story. “You know, this makes perfect sense. I have two cousins who live near Baltimore, and last year their parents went through a nasty divorce. It was awful. I remember my two cousins saying bad things about their father’s divorce lawyer. They really hated the guy, and I guess he was just doing his job. Does your mother worry about such things, Theo?”

“I’m sure she does, but she never talks about it.”

“It’s her job,” Chase observed. The son of a lawyer.