The Return of Sherlock James
by Gary D. Snyder
Chapter 2:
Miss Fowl looked ready to cry. "I can't believe it!" she wailed. "I've had that pen for over five years. Principal Willoughby gave that to me for my – bra-a-awk - 25-year service award!" She covered her face with her hands and hunched over her desk, clucking unhappily. "I don't want to work here another twenty years to get another one!"
When she looked up again Carl raised his hand timidly. "I thought you said teaching was the greatest joy in your life and its own special reward," he ventured.
"No, Carl, that was rodeo riding," Sheen corrected him.
"Zip it!" Miss Fowl scowled. "All I know is that my pen has been stolen and on the pittance of a teacher's salary I get there's no way I'll be ever able to buy another one."
"Is that all?" Cindy rummaged in her backpack and pulled out a disposable ballpoint pen. "You can have one of mine, if you want."
Reluctantly Miss Fowl accepted the proffered pen and chewed on it experimentally. "It's just not the same," she sighed, "but I guess it will just have to do."
Jimmy looked puzzled. "I don't see what the problem is here. We don't we just search everyone and see who has my sample of quasi-gold and your pen? That's what I'd do."
"No, Jimmy," Miss Fowl replied. "That wouldn't be ethical. That would be a violation of student personal liberties, like student locker searches and capital punishment."
"Didn't you mean to say 'corporal punishment'?" Sheen gulped.
Miss Fowl sounded indifferent. "What's the difference?" She turned to the chalkboard and said, "Everyone get out a sheet of paper and copy down your class group assignment."
"Class group assignment?" Cindy repeated.
"Yes," said Miss Fowl, scrawling on the board as she spoke. "Your class group assignment is to find my pen. And until I get it back, that's going to be your assignment every day from now on! Maybe I can't violate your civil rights, but I can try to get you to do that for me!"
At lunch later that day Sheen scratched his head. "Man, I couldn't believe how Miss Fowl was acting this morning. I've never seen anyone that possessive about anything."
Libby shrugged. "Wasn't your Ultra Lord figure right next to you, Sheen? Because I don't see it now."
At this Sheen looked about him in panic and snatched up the plastic toy from the bench beside him, sighing in blissful relief as he clutched it to him and Libby snickered. "Never joke about the bond between a man and his action figure, Libby." he scolded.
"In his own addle-pated way, Sheen actually has a point, though," Cindy said. "I mean, did you notice how Miss Fowl said that Pennsylvania was founded by Stolen Penn? She is like one flavor away from being a total fruit loop. Still, I guess I'd be pretty upset about losing something I'd had for years, even if it wasn't made of gold."
Carl looked thoughtful. "I wonder why someone waited until today to take it."
"That doesn't really matter," Jimmy answered. "What matters is that someone took it and my specimen of quasi-gold." He stood on the bench and pointed his finger into the air. "And with a mystery like this, there is only solution. I must once again resort to the methods of the world's greatest detective!"
"You mean Omnipedia Beige?" asked Carl.
It took a second for this to sink in for Jimmy. "Who?"
"Omnipedia Beige, Boy Detective," Carl replied as he reached into his lunch bag. "And it just so happens that I conveniently have a copy of one of his books right here."
"Yeah, Jimmy," added Sheen. "He's actually a pretty interesting character. Nearly everyone reads it. You should get with the times."
Jimmy took the paperback Carl was holding and sat back down to examine it. "Omnipedia Beige," he muttered. "And who exactly is this pulp fiction character?"
"Well," said Carl, "he's ten years old and really smart and solves crimes for twenty-five cents and has a pretty partner named Shirley Trumbull. You read the stories in the book, find the clues, and solve the mystery with him."
Jimmy scoffed but read the first case in the book.
THE CASE OF THE CARNIVAL CONFLAGRATION
"Thank you for coming at such an hour," said Mr. Blarney, the owner of the Blarney Brothers Circus, as Omnipedia and his father stamped snow from their boots. "I apologize for getting you out in this weather, but if there really is a firebug about I thought it best to notify you."
"No problem," Police Chief Beige replied. "Can you tell me what happened?"
Omnipedia said nothing. He was staring at the other man in the circus railroad car who was seated at the small dining table and taking sips of brown liquid from a bottle.
"It was actually McDuff here who told me," Mr. Blarney replied. "Perhaps he should tell you."
Omnipedia's father turned to the other man. "Mr. McDuff?"
"Sure and I'll be telling you," the little man answered in a thick brogue as he slipped the bottle into his jacket's side pocket. "A fortunate thing it was that I escaped with me life, and the others, too. The little people themselves must have been watching over us, and no lie.
"We'd had a big crowd for this evening performance and I was all done in, so after feeding the animals after the show I turned in and feel asleep as soon as me head touched the pillow, I did. It was about an hour ago, just after midnight, and I was sound asleep in me cot when there came a terrible noise. The giraffes in their cages next to me tent were screaming to wake the dead, and woke me sure enough from a sound slumber. Realizing that something was wrong, I pulled on me Wellies and -"
"One moment," interrupted Chief Beige. "Did anyone else hear this racket?"
"No, me tent is on the other side of the camp from everyone else, and sound sleepers they are, begorrah."
"McDuff is custodian of our animals," Mr. Blarney explained. "His quarters are there to make it easier to deal with any emergencies that may arise."
Chief Beige nodded. "Please continue."
"Well, as I was saying," McDuff went on, "I pulled on me Wellies and raced out. Sure enough, the giraffes were going crazy with fear. It seems that, with their long necks, they had spotted something that frighted them something awful before any of the other animals knew what was what. A second later I sniffed the smoke and knew what the problem was. The feed haystack was on fire!
"Well, I knew I had to act and act quickly, so off I went. Fairly flying, I was, too. The smoke was getting thicker and I was afeared for all the animals' safety, so I loosed them from their cages and let them get to safety. I then roused the others and together we managed to douse the flames. A near thing it was. A few more minutes and the whole circus could have gone up in flames, saints preserve us."
"Did you see anyone suspicious around here this evening?" Chief Beige asked.
"There was a shabbily dressed man lounging about the place earlier," Mr. Blarney answered. "He asked me for a job but I had to turn him down. He gave me a dirty look when he walked off."
Omnipedia's father nodded grimly. "It's possible he wanted revenge and that he's our suspect. Give me some details on his description and I'll put out an APB. Then I'll contact the police force so that they can help you and your people round up the animals."
Mr. Blarney began to describe the shabby man when Omnipedia interrupted him. "Don't waste your time," he advised, as he watched the melting snow drip from McDuff's rubber boots. "We already have the prime suspect."
WHAT DID OMNIPEDIA MEAN?
Jimmy scoffed. "Carl, this is ridiculous!"
"I know," agreed Carl. "I wasn't able to figure it out either."
"That's not what I'm taking about. Aside from the obvious answer to this so-called mystery, this story has more holes than a miniature golf course. First of all, who makes someone with an obviously Scottish name like McDuff a stereotyped Irish character who swills whisky, believes in leprechauns, and says, 'Begorrah'? Second, why would a circus be out giving performances where it's snowing instead of wintering somewhere like Florida? Third, why would a police chief be so calm about someone letting loose a bunch of wild animals in the middle of the night? And finally, what kind of father would drag his ten-year-old son along to a crime scene at 1:00 AM in the morning?"
"Well, actually, Omnipedia's dad isn't really very good at his job," Sheen confessed.
"Then I guess he has something in common with the author," Jimmy opined, reading the cover. "G. D. Snyder. Never heard of him." He tossed the book back to Carl, returned it to his lunch bag.
"Well, you certainly sucked all the fun out of that," Cindy observed.
"He sure did," agreed Carl. "And he was the one who brought up being a boy detective."
"I did not!" Jimmy protested. "I only said that I should employ the methods of the world's greatest detective to get to the bottom of all this. And by that, I mean the classic Victorian detective Sherlock Holmes, not some juvenile wannabe like Encyclopedia Brown."
"Omnipedia Beige," Sheen corrected him.
"Whatever. The point is that we should carefully collect the facts and then rigorously apply logic to arrive at an incontrovertible solution." He looked around. "Who's with me on this?"
Sheen fidgeted uneasily. "Actually, I'm not very good at collecting facts. Collecting action figures is more my style," he said.
Carl nodded in agreement. "And I'm pretty busy still trying to solve the cases in this book," he added.
"If you're going to wear that dorky outfit again, you can count me out," said Cindy.
"And personally, I'd love to help, but…umm…" Libby's voice trailed off and she tried to think of a way to complete her sentence before she finally just shrugged. "But I don't want to," she concluded lamely.
"Fine!" Jimmy snorted. "Be that way. But let criminals and evil-doers beware. Jimmy Neutron is on the case!"
"Well, you've certainly been getting on mine long enough," muttered Cindy under her breath.
End of Chapter 2
Author's Note:
Encyclopedia Brown was one of the book series that fascinated me when I was young. The idea of kids being smarter than adults was very appealing to me, as well as his willingness to partner with a girl who, while pretty, could beat the tar out of guys easily twice her size. In many ways, he reminds me of Jimmy, or vice-versa. At the time it struck me as odd that pre-teen boys and girls could or would be friends, but as I got older I realized that's probably the only age that males and females could just be good friends…as "When Harry Met Sally" seemed to show.