“Those Hampton Heisters are a real pain in the patootie,” I said.
Chase entered the office, followed by Uncle Alec, who’d also just gotten out of bed, judging from the electric hair he was sporting. “And? Anything?”
“They tried to delete my article on the Hampton Heisters,” said Odelia, “and also they deleted a bunch of my emails.”
“Those Hampton Heisters again,” said Uncle Alec grimly. “Ma almost caught them this evening, but that idiot Wilbur Vickery got in the way. And when a patrol car finally got wise, they chased after them but of course by then they’d already disappeared.”
“They tried to break in somewhere?” asked Odelia.
“Yeah, some rapper’s house.”
“You would think that with one of their gang behind bars they’d lay low for a while,” said Chase.
“Looks like they’re determined to keep going until they’re all caught,” said the Chief. “Look, you better go back to bed. I’ll deal with this. No sense in all of us sticking around.”
“You don’t think they’ll be back?” asked Odelia.
“They’d be crazy if they tried,” Uncle Alec grunted.
“Maybe it was the vlogger,” said Dooley now. “Looking for more material for his vlog.”
“Good call, Dooley,” I said, and immediately relayed this information to Odelia.
“Maybe he was looking for information on his sex maniac friend,” Dooley added. “Wanting to know if he’s going to be all right. Sex maniacs look out for each other.”
“If he really wanted to know if Carl Strauss was fine he simply could have gone down to the hospital and asked,” I pointed out. “No, I think it was probably those Heisters again. This looks like the thing that they do: break into places and make a big mess.”
“Let’s go home and get some more sleep,” said Chase, yawning, and so that’s what we did.
27
The next morning, bright and early, I was awakened by some kind of altercation or ruckus. When I went in search of its source, I found myself once more in the corridor, where a line had formed outside the bathroom.
“Vesta! Open that door!” Tex was yelling, pounding on the door.
“Will you please stop harassing me, Tex!” Gran yelled back from inside the bathroom. “A girl doesn’t like to be rushed, you know!”
‘You’re not a girl, and I need to use the bathroom! Now!”
“I was here first!”
“She’s always in there first,” Tex complained to his wife, who looked just as annoyed as he was. Then a look of determination came over him, and he stalked off, stomping down the stairs.
“Tex, where are you going?” asked Marge.
“I’m going to use that porta-potty!” Tex declared.
“You can’t use that! That’s for the workers only!”
“If I’m paying for it, I can use it!” And he slammed the kitchen door.
“What’s a porta-potty, Max?” asked Dooley.
“It’s a portable toilet that construction workers use when they’re on location,” I explained. “It works with some kind of chemical mixture that decomposes the, um… excrement and hides the unpleasant odor. So basically like a litter box for humans.”
“I’m afraid if this keeps up Tex is going to go berserk,” Marge confessed.
“He’ll be all right,” I told her. “A couple of months from now, when all this is over and you’re living in a nice new house, you will look back and laugh.”
“I hope so,” said Marge, who didn’t look like she was about to burst out laughing. “Ma!” she yelled, taking over the door-banging from her husband. “How much longer!”
“Maybe you could also use the porta-potty?” I suggested.
“Or you can use my litter box, Marge,” said Dooley, once again extending his magnanimous offer.
Odelia and Chase had joined the line, and Odelia said,“We really should install a second toilet downstairs.”
“Maybe we should,” Chase agreed. “Do you know a good plumber?”
“I can ask the contractor,” Marge suggested.
“You better not. We don’t want to distract them from the work on your house,” said Odelia. “No, I’ll ask Dan. I’m sure he knows someone who can help us out for a reasonable price.”
“Is it true what Ma said?” asked Marge. “Did they really break into your office last night?”
“Yeah, they did. Probably those Hampton Heisters again.”
“I’m going over to Lil Leaky Fruit Loop’s house,” said Chase. “Wanna come?”
“Leaky who?” asked Marge.
“He’s a rapper,” Chase said, as if that explained everything—and it did.
“Sure,” said Odelia. “Why? Did they take anything?”
“No, but Mr. Fruit Loop has a good security system, with plenty of cameras. So I’m hoping that maybe the Heisters got caught on CCTV this time.”
“If they keep this up, sooner or later we’re going to catch them. They can’t keep lucking out.”
Just then, Chase’s phone dinged, and he glanced down. “Dolores,” he announced, then frowned as he read her message. “She needs me at the precinct. On the double.”
I had to hand it to Chase. He really made haste when he needed to. About ten minutes after Dolores had left that message on his phone, we were at the precinct, wondering what could possibly be so urgent as to interrupt the regular Poole morning ritual.
It didn’t take us long to discover what it was: seated on a bench in the waiting area out front, four teenagers were biding their time. And when Chase and Odelia sidled up to Dolores, she gestured with her head to the foursome, and said, “They claim to be the Hampton Heisters. Said they’re here to turn themselves in.”
Chase and Odelia slowly turned to the teens, who looked nervous yet defiant.
“They don’t look like dangerous criminals, Max,” said Dooley. “They look more like the cast members of a Disney Channel Original Movie.”
“Yes, they do,” I agreed as I studied the foursome. They were two girls and two boys, and they all looked pretty normal to me: they wore jeans and sweatshirts, and wouldn’t have looked out of place in a school setting, which was probably what they were playing truant from right now. I would have estimated their age around seventeen or eighteen. In other words, Emma Hudson’s age.
“You lot, come with me,” Chase instructed, and watched as the foursome got up and followed him down the corridor and into the precinct proper.
Unfortunately cats aren’t allowed inside police interview rooms, so Dooley and I watched on as Chase and Odelia headed in. But since we’re both very curious kitties, we decided to take up position on Uncle Alec’s windowsill, and hopefully glean a little something about the goings-on from that position.
When we arrived there, we discovered that Ellie Pack was in with the Chief, conducting what was likely her very first solo interview.
“Thank you so much for this, Chief,” the girl was saying.
“You’re very welcome, Ellie,” said Uncle Alec, leaning back in his chair and looking well pleased. It wasn’t hard to imagine why he was so happy: in a box in front of him an assortment of donuts lay, and I had the impression that Ellie was the one who’d placed them there.
“Great interview technique,” Dooley remarked, who’d noticed the same thing.
“Excellent technique,” I agreed. “Ellie is a quick learner.”
“So your dad was a reporter? Is that correct?” asked the Chief as he picked a jelly donut from the box and took a big bite.
“Yeah, he was. Or at least that’s what my mom told me.”
“You never knew your dad?”
“No, he left before I was born.”
“You never met him later on?”
“Mom says they lost touch, and she has no idea where he might be. He could be dead for all we know.”
“But if he’s a reporter, there must be a way to track him down, right? Through the paper he worked for, or maybe some trade association?”