Philip and the Case of Mistaken Identity and Philip and the Baby (9781597051095) (4 page)

“Remember me? I was here when you brought
your late books back. I heard the librarian say your name. Not a
mystery, right?” She smiled.

What made this girl smile so much?
Philip wondered. But at least he’d found her, and she didn’t know
who he really was.

“Are you here for the program?” she
asked.

“Uh, well, yeah, sure,” Philip nodded.

“I didn’t see you at any of the other
programs.”

“I just heard about it.” Philip was calming
down. It was his chance to show Emery what a real detective could
do.

“Oh, I can’t wait for next week when they
give us our own seeds.”

Seeds?
Philip nodded and looked toward
the meeting room. He saw a poster standing on an easel.
Gardening Club: Three O’Clock Today.

Seeds
. Philip nodded. “Yeah, that’ll
be neat.”

“Come on. Let’s go in. My name is Joanie, by
the way.”

“Do you live around here?” Philip asked.

“Not really. My sister and I are staying with
my grandmother this week. School vacation.”

Her sister. There was something to
report.

The girl went on. “We spend most weekends at
my grandmother’s. My mother works a lot. That’s why I’ve been
coming to this library and the gardening club. This is the sixth
week. Next week is the last meeting.”

Philip nodded. They’d reached the room and
one of the librarians was recording information. Philip listened
carefully when the girl said, “Joanie Henderson. 3420 Allengrove
Street. 243-0566.”

Joanie took a few steps into the room,
turned, and waited for Philip.

The librarian looked at Philip. “Name,” she
smiled.

“Phil—mery.”

The librarian looked puzzled. “Can you spell
that?”

Stupid
, Philip said to himself.
“E-m-e-r-y.”

“E-m-e-r-y is Philmery?”

“No, no, no. Emery. Just Emery.” How could
the librarian be so dumb to think his mother would call him
Philmery?

“Last name.”

“Wyatt.”

“Address.”

“1176 Tumblejack Drive.”

“Phone?”

“743-8833.”

Philip walked past the librarian’s table,
glad
that
was over. It was like getting captured and being
questioned by the enemy.

“Follow me, Emery,” said Joanie.

For an hour Philip sat through a talk on the
parts of plants, how they grow, and the names of different flowers.
Once he felt his eyes closing and his head rolling around. But a
sharp bounce of his head woke him up. When the hour was finally
over, the crowd of children moved out of the room.

“It’s four o’clock,” Joanie said. “I have to
go home. Will you be here next week when they give out the
seeds?”

Philip nodded.

Joanie waved at another girl. Then she turned
back to Philip. “Good-bye, Emery.”

“Bye,” said Philip. He watched Joanie walk
through the door that led to the stairway. Philip went over to the
stairway and looked down. Joanie was just going through the front
doors and out onto the sidewalk. Philip ran down the stairs. He
waited a moment and then opened the library door slowly. He stepped
outside and saw Joanie crossing the street, going in the direction
of the supermarket and home. He watched her until she was out of
sight and then went back up the stairs to the children’s room,
thinking over all the things he had to tell Emery—her name, where
she lived, her sister, her grandmother. Philip felt pretty good
about the job he’d done spying on her. And she hadn’t mentioned
anything about him and Emery in their disguises.

Philip felt in his pocket for his library
card. Yes, he had it. He went to the Cs—he remembered that Eleanor
Cameron wrote one of the books he’d returned for Emery—and found
Stowaway to the Mushroom Planet
. Emery usually knew about
good books. Philip checked the book out and headed home.

There was no car in Emery’s driveway so he
didn’t bother to stop.

At home he read
Stowaway to the Mushroom
Planet
until his mother called him for dinner. After dinner he
went up to his room. He looked out his window to see whether
Emery’s car was back, but it wasn’t. He played in his room, looking
for Emery’s car every once in a while, and when it was finally
there, he went downstairs to the phone and called Emery.

“Emery, is that you?”

“Yeah. And I have news.”

“What?” Philip asked.

“I saw that girl when I was shopping with my
mother. She’s visiting her grandmother and her grandmother knows my
mother a little. The grandmother came over to say hello to my
mother, and I had to talk to the girl. She usually lives in
Juniata. You know where that is?”

“How could
you
meet her? She was in
the library with me. I talked to her and she knew my name.”

“She knew you were Philip?”

“No, no. She called me you.”

“Emery?”

“That’s your name, isn’t it?”

“How’d she know?”

“She said she heard the library lady say it
when I returned your books. And you still owe me twenty cents.”

“I know. I know. Wow! She asked me my name.
Good thing I told her I was you.”

“You said your name was Philip?”

“That’s your name, isn’t it?” Emery answered,
putting some attitude into his voice. “I thought it would be
trickier. I couldn’t slip into my disguise, so I told her a fake
name. Good thing, too. She wouldn’t believe she could meet two
Emerys in a row, would she?”

“No, I guess not.”

“She said her name was Janie and that she has
a sister.”

“Joanie.”

“She told you her sister’s name?”

“No.”

“So who’s Joanie?”

“That’s the girl’s name.”

“No, she told me her name was Janie.”

“Joanie!”

“Janie!” Emery insisted.

“You sure?”

“
I’m
sure. Are
you
sure? You
didn’t have your big ear on, did you? Maybe you didn’t hear
right.”

“No, I didn’t have my big ear on. I gave it
back to you, remember? But how could she be where you were when she
was where I was? I don’t get it. We both went to some talk about
gardening in the library. She said...”

“She said she was on school vacation and she
was going back to her grandmother’s to meet her sister.”

Philip took the phone away from his ear and
stared at it. Everything he was planning to tell Emery, Emery was
telling him.

“When did you see her?” Philip asked.

“When my mother was shopping. I told you
that.”

“But what time?”

“Mmm, about four-thirty.”

“Four-thirty! She was at the library until
four. You sure it was the same girl?”

“I’m sure. She was dressed the same and
looked the same.”

“Blue T-shirt?”

“Yes. It said ‘Little Angel’ on it,
right?”

“Right. But she couldn’t get all the way
where you were by four-thirty, could she?”

“Did her grandmother pick her up with the car
at the library?”

“No, I followed her outside and watched her
walk away,” Philip said, hoping Emery would notice what a thorough
job he’d done spying on the girl. “There was no car.”

“She and her grandmother must both be able to
fly then,” said Emery. “Maybe they’re both witches. She wasn’t
carrying a broomstick, was she?”

“No!” Philip said loudly into the phone.

“I guess we picked the right person to
follow. She is mega-suspicious.”

Philip silently agreed. “We better keep after
her and find out more.”

“Good idea.”

“Shall we do it tomorrow?”

“Can’t. It’s Easter. I have to go over my
aunt’s.”

“Oh, yeah. I forgot it’s Easter. My aunt is
coming here.”

“Janie is probably busy, too, tomorrow.”

“Joanie,” Philip insisted.

“She said ‘Janie’.”

‘“Joanie’ to me.”

“We’ll investigate that.”

“Right. Monday morning then?”

“Yeah. We’ll get into our disguises and track
her down. What time?”

“I’ll come to your house at nine.”

“My mother says not until ten.”

“All right then. Ten. See you Monday.”

“See you.”

Philip hung up.
Janie? Joanie? A girl and
a grandmother who could fly?
And the girl thought Emery was him
and he was Emery. Philip ran upstairs. He couldn’t
wait
for
Monday.

“Now let’s look at the facts,” said Emery. He
and Philip were sitting in Philip’s living room Monday morning a
little past ten o’clock. Emery’s sisters were having a bad day—that
meant a noisy day—and Emery had called Philip to tell him that. The
boys decided Philip’s house would be the better headquarters for
the time being.

“Emery, do you have to wear that hat in the
house?” Philip asked. Emery was wearing what he had since learned
was called his “deerstalker” cap. Emery loved the name.
“Deerstalker.” It made him feel like a great hunter.

“My deerstalker is my trademark,” said Emery.
“I hunt down the most suspicious people. You should have on your
derby hat.”

Emery had also learned that Philip’s round
hat was called a derby. Philip wasn’t impressed. Again Emery got
the better thing. Having a “deerstalker”—a cool name—was way better
than having a “derby”. How dumb was the word “derby”?

Philip tried his derby on once more. Just
then Philip’s mother walked through the living room and looked at
the two boys. She stopped a moment. She shook her head, rolled her
eyes, and continued on. Philip took off his derby.

“Why did she do that?” Emery asked.

“She probably thinks you look funny.”

“Me?”

Philip glared at Emery and both boys decided
to change the subject.

“So what are the facts?” Philip asked
impatiently.

“Okay. We tracked this girl. She told you her
name was Joanie. She told me her name was Janie. We have to figure
out her game.”

“Her game?”

Now Emery rolled his eyes. “That’s how we
spying detectives talk.”

Philip nodded, but he told himself if one
more person rolled his eyes his way, there’d be trouble.

“So how can we find out what her real name
is?” Emery continued.

Both boys thought.

Philip could hear his own baby sister, Becky,
crying upstairs.

“I know what we could do,” said Philip. “We
could ask your mother. You said she knows the grandmother.”

“I did ask. She only knows the grandmother a
little. She said she didn’t know anything about any
granddaughters.”

Philip snapped his fingers. “Let’s call on
the phone. You call and ask for Janie. If she answers, then we know
her name is Janie.”

“Why do I have to call? Why can’t you call
and ask for Joanie?”

“You wanted to learn her
game
, didn’t
you?”

“I guess. But we don’t have her phone
number.”

“What’s the grandmother’s name?”

“My mother called her Mrs. Dykans.”

Philip ran to the hall closet and returned
with a big phone directory. He riffled through the pages. “No luck.
There’s no D-i-k-a-n-s.”

“Y,” said Emery.

“I don’t know. There just is none. I looked.
You want to look?”

“No, no. ‘Y’,” Emery repeated.

Emery was making his stomach clench up again.
Philip raised his voice. “Because it’s not there. They didn’t print
it. Maybe she doesn’t have a phone.”

“Y, Y, Y,” Emery insisted.

Philip banged his hand on top of the page he
had searched. “
I don’t know why. It’s not here, that’s all.
There’s no Dikans. Are you deaf or what?”

Emery shook his head and took the directory.
He turned forward a few pages and said, “243-6885.”

“What!”

“Y.”

“
Why what? Why do you keep asking me
why?”

“I’m not asking you why. I’m telling you.
‘Y’,” Emery explained.

“You’re telling me why? You’re telling me why
about what?”

“I’m telling you ‘Y’ about ‘d-y’.”

“Dewhy? What’s a dewhy?”

Emery sighed in exasperation. “She doesn’t
have any ‘I’s,” he explained.

“Who doesn’t have any eyes?”

“The grandmother.”

“She doesn’t have any eyes! How did she drive
her car that day if she can’t see?”

“Who can’t see?”

“The grandmother can’t see!”

“Why not?”

“
You said she doesn’t have any eyes. You
just said it.”

“What are you talking about? Of course she
has eyes. She has eyes to see, but no ‘I’s’ to spell.”

“What! Why would she spell with her
eyes?”

“You’re confusing me.”

“
I’m
confusing
you
?” Philip
took a deep breath, his stomach in a giant knot. Very slowly he
said, “Did you find the phone number of the grandmother?”

“Yes.”

“How?”

“Y.”

“
Because I want to know! All right! I want
to know!”

“I told you. ‘Y’.”

“No... you... didn’t... tell... me... why.”
Philip was speaking slowly, trying to keep his temper. “You didn’t
tell me anything!”

“I told you everything. Now listen. The
grandmother spells her name with a ‘Y’. ‘D-Y’. She doesn’t have any
I’s in her name. Get it? You looked under ‘D-I’ and I looked under
‘D-Y’.”

Philip stared at Emery and rubbed his
stomach.

“Hungry?” Emery asked.

“No, I’m not hungry,” Philip shouted. “You’re
making my stomach hurt.”

“How? I didn’t do anything.”

“Just tell me the number again.”

“243-6885.”

Philip took a pencil from the end table and
wrote the number down.

“Okay,” he said. “You call it. Come on into
the kitchen.”

Emery followed, took the phone, and punched
in the number.

“It’s ringing,” Emery whispered.

Philip nodded.

“Oh, hello. May I speak to Janie? Oh, she
isn’t there? Me? Oh, you can tell her that Philip called. Bye.”