Amos's Killer Concert Caper (4 page)

“So? One of the wrenches is missing. Big deal.”

“The one that's missing would have fit the bolts on the spotlight perfectly.”

“So now you're Mister Fix-it, who knows everything about wrenches and stuff.”
Amos turned and made for the balcony door. “Did it ever occur to you that even if you're right about the wrench, anybody could have taken it? It didn't have to be Mange.”

Dunc stepped beside him. “I thought about that. But he's still our number-one suspect.”

Amos unlocked his bike. “Why?”

“Because right now he's our only suspect.”

Amos wasn't listening. A group of girls was coming toward them from the library. Amos dropped his bicycle.

The one in the middle was Melissa.

A couple of the girls giggled when they saw Amos's nose. Melissa didn't seem to notice him at all. She waved at Dunc and walked on down the sidewalk.

•
8

Amos was sitting on the end of Dunc's bed with an inch of cold cream on his nose. “I don't get it. Why do these things always happen to me?”

Dunc rubbed his chin. “I've been giving that some thought. I'd say it has something to do with the amount of space per person multiplied by the number of points of time in a given year, minus the refractory equation—of course taking into account the probability of happenstance.”

“What does all that boil down to in plain English?”

“Luck.”

Amos sagged. “Melissa will probably want to cancel our date now. She'll be too embarrassed to be seen with me.”

“How is she going to cancel it? She doesn't even know who it's with. You didn't sign your name to the letter, remember?”

Amos sat up. “That's true. And when she sees the roses and candy, she'll probably forget all about it.”

“Candy?”

“In case she's allergic to the roses.”

“Oh.” Dunc turned on his computer and started entering information. “It doesn't make sense.”

Amos lay back on the bed. “Sure it does. If Melissa starts sneezing, I can ditch the roses and bring out the candy. Either way, I'm covered.”

“Not that. The case. Why would Mange want to put a stop to the Road Kill concerts? He probably makes a bundle of money off of each one. If they were to stop, he'd be out of a job.”

Amos shrugged. “Maybe he has a personal
problem with one of the guys in the band.”

“That's a possibility. But would you give up all that money just because you have a problem with somebody?”

“Nope. Looks like you're fresh out of a suspect.”

Dunc studied his computer screen. “Not necessarily. What we need is more evidence, something that will show us what Mange has to gain from all of this.”

“If you're so sure it's him, why don't you go to the police? They'll go down to his office with a warrant and find the evidence they need to arrest him.”

“That's it.” Dunc snapped his fingers. “Why didn't I think of it before?”

“Dunc, I was kidding. Nobody in their right mind would—”

“The office. Amos, we need to get inside Mange's office. There's probably all kinds of incriminating stuff in there. We'll leave early tomorrow morning before anybody's awake.”

Dunc leaned back in his chair and folded
his arms. “We'll have this case solved before lunch, and the Road Kill band can go on-stage tomorrow night as scheduled with nothing to worry about.”

“I hate to burst your bubble, Sherlock, but I'm busy tomorrow morning.”

Both front legs of Dunc's chair hit the floor. “What could possibly be more important than saving someone's career?”

“Saving my room from the Salvation Army. My mom didn't appreciate the way I organized the stuff, so she called the Salvation Army and told them to bring a truck. A
big
truck.”

“Come on, Amos. You have to help me. We could be saving lives here.”

“No way. My whole life is in that room. I'm not just going to stand by and let complete strangers come in and carry it off.”

Amos had his mind made up, and Dunc knew there was no changing it, unless … “I understand perfectly, Amos. You go ahead and stay home tomorrow morning. I'll go down to the civic center by myself. It's okay.”

Amos eyed him suspiciously. “Why are you giving up so fast? It's not like you.”

Dunc turned off his computer. “I wouldn't want you to be gone during an important thing like a visit from the Salvation Army.”

“What's the catch?”

“There's no catch. Of course, when the band calls me up onstage during the concert and personally thanks me in front of everybody, including Melissa, and I get all the glory for solving the case, you'll have to sit there and settle for knowing that you stayed home and did what you thought was more important.”

“You think they'll call us up onstage?”

“I'm almost sure of it.”

Amos chewed on a fingernail. “When you stop and think about it, I guess some of that stuff in my room could stand to be cleared away.”

Dunc smiled. “Whatever you say, Amos.”

•
9

Dunc tripped over the pile of broken models and used tubes of glue at the foot of Amos's bed. He stopped and listened.

Nothing.

Everybody was still asleep. He leaned down close to Amos's ear. “Wake up. We've got major undercover work to do, remember?”

Amos opened one eye. “Go away. I'm doing my own undercover work right here.” He jerked the covers up over his head and turned over.

Dunc frowned. He considered calling
Scruff, the Binders' border collie. Scruff hated Amos and would be more than happy to be a part of anything that would irritate him. Dunc had successfully used him in the past to get Amos out of bed, but he knew if he whistled, he might wake someone else. He decided not to risk it. Instead he looked around the room and moved to one of the piles.

The dirty sock pile.

Dunc held his own nose and quietly swung a stiff, smelly sock back and forth under Amos's nose. The cold cream had worked. Amos's nose was pink again, but now it wrinkled and turned white; then his lip curled. He sputtered and gagged, then sat bolt upright.

“Ugggh!” Amos knocked the sock out of his hand. “That's not fair. You used chemical warfare.”

“Shhh.” Dunc put his finger to his lips. “You want to wake up the whole house?”

“If I have to get up, they can too.”

“If your parents get up, they might want
you to explain where you're going at this time of the morning.”

“So? I'll explain.”

“They might not let you go.”

Amos fell back on his pillow. “Then that's all the more reason to wake them up.”

Dunc took Amos by the legs and swung him around sideways. Then he grabbed him by the arms and pulled until he had him in a sitting position. “Come on, Amos. This is important.”

“You always say that. It never turns out that way, but it doesn't stop you from saying it.”

Dunc ignored him. “Where are your clothes?”

Amos pointed to a pile near the middle of the room. “Take the ones on top.”

“You're going to wear clothes from a pile on the floor?”

Amos nodded. “Saves time. No folding and unfolding. No hangers to worry about. After I'm through with them, I put them in that pile over there.” He pointed to a stack
of dirty clothes. “It's a great system. I thought of it myself. I'm thinking of having it patented. I'll probably make a ton of money.”

“Too bad your mother's not as crazy about it as you are.”

Amos yawned. “I know. Some people just don't know a good thing when they see it. If this were to catch on, I'd be rich. Then my dad could retire, and I could hire a maid, install a swimming pool, pay someone to take my sister away—”

Dunc handed him his clothes. “Get dressed. We don't have a lot of time.”

•
10

Amos let the big metal door slam shut behind him.

“Shhh!” Dunc glared at him. “We don't want anybody to know we're in here.”

“I thought you said no one would be up at this hour.”

“First rule of surveillance—you can never be too careful.”

“Where did you learn that? The Handy Home School of Spying?”

“Cute. Stay behind me, and try to be quiet.”

Dunc inched his way along the wall
toward the office. Amos followed, even though he was sure the whole thing was a waste of time.

“Wait.” Dunc held up his hand. “I'll see if the coast is clear.”

Amos rolled his eyes. “Whatever.”

Dunc moved to the door. He motioned for Amos to come closer.

“Are we through playing secret agent yet?”

Dunc clapped his hand over Amos's mouth. A voice was coming from inside the office. Someone was talking on the phone.

“Yes, is this the Grenfield Insurance Agency?”

The boys sat on their heels and waited.

“Hello, Mr. Grenfield. This is Mange Roper. Listen, I was just calling to double-check the terms on that policy I have with you on the Road Kill band.… I wanted to make sure that if the concert is canceled for any reason, I'll still be able to collect the insurance money.…”

Dunc's eyes widened. He pointed to the
balcony. The boys tiptoed away from the office and then blasted up the balcony steps and out the door.

Amos stopped to catch his breath, but Dunc kept going. “Hey, wait for me.”

Dunc didn't slow down. He jumped on his bike and took off. He was already in his room making plans when Amos staggered in.

“Where's the fire?” Amos plopped on Dunc's bed. “The way you're acting, you'd think it was a matter of life and death.”

“It might be, Amos. Didn't you hear Mange on the phone? He collects insurance money every time the band can't go on. There's probably no telling what he might do to keep them from appearing tonight.”

“So go tell Roy. He'll call the police, and they'll put Mange away. Simple.”

“I can't just go tell Roy a thing like this. He's known Mange a long time. He'll want proof.”

“If he waits for much more proof, he may wind up in the hospital.”

“There's only one thing to do.” Dunc stood up. “We have to keep an eye on the band until after the concert.”

“You mean
you
have to keep an eye on them. I have a date, remember?”

“But Amos—”

Amos held up his hand. “It won't work. Nothing you can say will convince me. Thanks to you, my bedroom is being ransacked by total strangers. I've done my duty for the day. I'm not giving up a date with Melissa for anything.”

“Not even if they call you up onstage?”

Amos shook his head. “Not even for that.”

“Maybe we don't have to watch them all day. Maybe we can stop Mange if we just go down there a little early and hang around. He won't try anything with witnesses.”