"Don't worry, little guy," the boy said. "You're safe for now."
TWENTY-ONE
Napoleon?
"Napoleon Bridger." Roy read the name aloud.
"It's certainly colorful," his mother remarked.
They were at the breakfast table, Mrs. Eberhardt carefully clipping articles and photographs from the morning newspaper.
The front page featured a picture of Roy, Beatrice, and Mother Paula clasping hands in the circle at the demonstration. The head of Beatrice's stepbrother could be seen in the background, looking very much like a fallen coconut with a blond toupee.
The caption beneath the photograph revealed Mother Paula as an actress and former beauty queen named Kimberly Lou Dixon. Beatrice's stepbrother was identified as Napoleon Bridger Leep.
"Is he back home now?" Roy's mother asked.
"I don't know if he'd call it that," Roy said, "but he's back with his mom and stepfather."
At the scene of the student protest, Lonna Leep had pitched a weepy spluttering fit and demanded to be reunited with her son. Not knowing any better, police officers had led her out of the crowd toward Mullet Fingers, spooking the bold little owl away from the boy.
"My champ! My brave little hero!" Lonna had swooned for the cameras as he wriggled out of the burrow. Roy and Beatrice had watched in helpless disgust as she'd locked Mullet Fingers in a smothering, melodramatic hug.
Mrs. Eberhardt clipped out the newspaper photo of Lonna posing with the boy, who looked extremely uncomfortable.
"Maybe things'll be better between the two of them," Roy's mother said hopefully.
"No, Mom. She just wanted to be on TV." Roy reached for his backpack. "I'd better get going."
"Your father wants to see you before school."
"Oh."
Mr. Eberhardt had worked late the previous night, and Roy had already gone to sleep by the time he'd gotten home.
"Is he mad?" Roy asked his mother.
"I don't think so. Mad about what?"
Roy pointed at the paper, checkerboarded with scissor holes. "About what happened yesterday. About what me and Beatrice did."
"Honey, you didn't break any laws. You didn't hurt anybody," Mrs. Eberhardt said. "All you did was speak out for what you believed was right. Your dad respects that."
Roy knew that "respects" wasn't necessarily the same thing as "agrees with." He had a feeling his father was sympathetic on the owl issue, but Mr. Eberhardt had never come out and said so.
"Mom, is Mother Paula's still going to build the pancake house?"
"I don't know, Roy. Apparently this Mr. Muckle fellow lost his temper and tried to strangle a reporter when she asked the same question."
"No way!" Roy and Beatrice had left before the impromptu press conference was over.
Mrs. Eberhardt held up the clipping. "Says so right here."
Roy couldn't believe how much space the newspaper had devoted to the owl protest. It must have been the biggest story to hit Coconut Cove since the last hurricane.
His mother said, "The phone started ringing at six this morning. Your dad made me take it off the hook."
"I'm really sorry, Mom."
"Don't be silly. I'm making a whole scrapbook, honey, something to show your children and grandchildren."
I'd rather show them the owls, Roy thought, if there are any left by then.
"Roy!"
It was his father, calling to him from the den. "Could you please get the door?"
A thin young woman with short-cropped black hair greeted Roy on the front steps. She was armed with a spiral notebook and a ballpoint pen.
"Hi, I'm from the Gazette," she announced.
"Thanks, but we've already got a subscription."
The woman laughed. "Oh, I don't sell the newspaper. I write it." She extended a hand. "Kelly Colfax."
On her neck Roy noticed several bluish, finger-sized marks that resembled the bruises that Dana Matherson had left on him. Roy figured that Kelly Colfax was the reporter whom Chuck Muckle had tried to choke.
"I'll go get my father," he said.
"Oh, that's not necessary. It's you I wanted to speak with," she said. "You are Roy Eberhardt, right?"
Roy felt trapped. He didn't want to act rude, but he certainly didn't want to say anything that might cause more trouble for Mullet Fingers.
Kelly Colfax began firing questions:
"How'd you get involved in the demonstration?"
"Are you friends with Napoleon Bridger Leep?"
"Were you two involved in the vandalism incidents on the Mother Paula's property?"
"Do you like pancakes? What kind of pancakes?"
Roy's head was whirling. Finally he broke in and said, "Look, I just went there to stand up for the owls. That's all."
As the reporter jotted down Roy's words, the door swung open, and there stood Mr. Eberhardt-shaved, showered, and neatly dressed in one of his gray suits.
"Excuse me, ma'am, may I have a word with my son?"
"Absolutely," said Kelly Colfax.
Mr. Eberhardt brought Roy inside and closed the door. "Roy, you don't have to answer any of her questions."
"But I just want her to know-"
"Here. Give her this." Roy's father clicked open his briefcase and removed a thick manila folder.
"What is it, Dad?"
"She'll figure it out."
Roy opened the folder and broke into a grin. "This is the file from City Hall, isn't it?"
"A copy," said his father. "That's correct."
"The one with all Mother Paula's stuff. I tried to find it, but it wasn't there," Roy said. "Now I know why."
Mr. Eberhardt explained that he had borrowed the file, xeroxed every page, and then taken the material to some lawyers who were experts on environmental matters.
"So does Mother Paula's have permission to bury the owl dens or not?" Roy asked. "Was it in the file?"
His father shook his head. "Nope."
Roy was exultant but also puzzled. "Dad, shouldn't you be giving this to somebody at the Justice Department? Why do you want me to hand it over to the newspaper?"
"Because there's something there that everybody in Coconut Cove ought to know." Mr. Eberhardt spoke in a hushed and confidential tone. "Actually, it's what isn't there that's important."
"Tell me," Roy said, and his father did.
When Roy opened the front door again, Kelly Colfax was waiting with a perky smile. "Can we continue our interview?"
Roy smiled brightly in return. "Sorry, but I'm running real late for school." He held out the file. "Here. This might help with your story."
The reporter tucked her notebook under one arm and snatched the folder from Roy's hands. As she thumbed through the documents, the elation on her face dissolved into frustration.
"What does all this stuff mean, Roy? What exactly am I looking for?"
"I think it's called an E.I.S.," Roy said, reciting what his father had told him.
"Which stands for…?"
"Environmental Impact Statement."
"Right! Of course," the reporter said. "Every big construction project is supposed to do one. That's the law."
"Yeah, but Mother Paula's E.I.S. isn't in there."
"You're losing me, Roy."
"It's supposed to be in that file," he said, "but it's not. That means the company never did one-or they lost it on purpose."
"Ah!" Kelly Colfax looked as if she'd just won the lottery. "Thank you, Roy," she said, embracing the folder with both arms as she backed down the steps. "Thank you very, very much."
"Don't thank me," Roy said under his breath. "Thank my dad." Who obviously cared about the owls, too.
EPILOGUE
During the following weeks, the Mother Paula's story mushroomed into a full-blown scandal. The missing Environmental Impact Statement made the front page of the Gazette and ultimately proved to be the fatal blow to the pancake-house project.