Boardwalk Bust (5 page)

“You can say that again,” I said.

“Name's Bump,” he said, holding out his hand. “Bump Rankowski.”

I shook it, and he nearly crushed my hand in his grip.
Whoa
. This guy was strong. “Joe Hardy,” I said. “And this is my brother Frank.”

“Good to meet you, Frank,” Bump said, crushing Frank's hand in turn.

I flexed my own, just to make sure it wasn't broken.

“So you say you're headed to Ocean Point? Well, that's where I'm headed too—just got clearance from the tower. Would you like a lift? No charge.”

To tell you the truth, getting back in a plane just then was the last thing I wanted to do, and I'm sure Frank felt the same. On top of that, we didn't know this guy from a hole in the ground, and who could tell what kind of pilot he was?

On the other hand, if he
wasn't
a terrific pilot, either of us was plenty good enough to help him correct a mistake or get out of a jam.

Besides, what better choice did we have? Opportunity was knocking, and we weren't about to let a lucky break go by.

“Excellent!” Frank said.

“Sweet,” I agreed. ‘You're sure it's not—?”

“No problem,” Bump said. “I've got me a four-seater. Unless you've got company, I count three of us. You ready to fly?”

He gave us another dazzling smile and put a powerful arm around each of our shoulders. “Come on—she's parked right outside.”

“This is really great of you, Mr. Rankowski,” Frank said.

“Please, call me Bump. Nobody calls me by my last name. Not once we've shook hands.”

“If you don't mind my asking, “Frank said, “how did you get—”

“The name Bump?” he finished, laughing. “
That's
how—check her out, boys. She's good for a bump or two, all right!”

Removing his arms from around our shoulders, he pointed to a Day-Glo red Cessna parked across the runway. The teeth and eyes of a great white shark were painted on the sides.

“Awesome!” I said, going over to take a closer look. “Oh, man! This thing rocks!”

“Meet Jaws. She's my pride and joy,” Bump said, patting the side of the plane. “Go on, hop in.”

“Whoa,” Frank said, admiring the instrument panel. It was all sporty; all the dials were phosphor white.

We got strapped in while Bump started going through his preflight checklist. “My birth name was Arnold,” he said, “but I never liked it. So when people started calling me Bump, I let 'em.”

He started the engine. “So, what brings you boys to Ocean Point? Little vacation?”

Frank gave me a look of caution—like I didn't know to watch what I said. I mean, give me a break! “Fourth of July weekend,” I said. “Gotta hit the beach, right?”

“You bet!” Bump said. “You look like you could use a break, Joe. Get punched in the eye, did you?”

“Um, sort of.”

“Kicked, actually,” Frank volunteered.

I kicked him in the ankle to keep him from saying anything else about it. “It's a long story,” he said, wisely leaving it at that.

“Well, anyway, you can't find a better beach than Ocean Point. Best spot on the whole Jersey Shore—and I oughta know. After all, I'm the mayor.”

“The mayor?” Frank said, sitting bolt upright in his seat. “Wow!”

“Yup, that's me—live and in person.”

Bump gunned the engine, and we started taxiing down the runway. The noise was deafening, but Bump had the kind of voice that can cut through anything—a politician's voice. “Lived in Ocean Point all my life. You want to know something about the place, I'm the guy to ask.”

Frank and I exchanged a quick look. This was a perfect chance to start our investigation—but we had to be careful. Bump Rankowski seemed like a
friendly guy, all right, but as the mayor of a town with a crime wave, he might be sensitive to certain kinds of questions.

We sat back and waited till Bump got us airborne. He did a slow turn, and we headed back north, keeping the shoreline on our left. There was no trace of the fog bank that had nearly killed us.

“Boy, the weather sure changes fast around here,” Frank said.

“You got that right,” Bump said. “Gotta keep your eyes open when you're flyin' the beach.”

“Flying the beach?” I repeated.

“I'm a banner pilot too,” Bump said. “I own a six-plane outfit. You see a banner being flown this week, it's probably me or one of my boys.” He pointed to a big white button above his head. “See that? That unfurls the banner.”

“You own the company?” I asked.

“That's what pays for things like this baby.” He patted the ultra-high-tech dashboard with its expensive wood and gold trim.

I thought of the pilot who'd nearly killed us less than an hour ago. “You weren't up flying today, were you?” I asked.

“Naw, not with the fog,” he said. “I grounded my entire fleet at four o'clock when we got the forecast…. Oh, I get what you're thinkin'! No, it
wasn't me, or any of mine. Ha! That's funny!” He laughed hard, slapping his knees.

It wasn't
that
funny.

“Are there other companies that fly the beaches?” Frank asked.

“Oh, yeah. There are three or four outfits that run advertising up and down the shore. Some of 'em will hire any old pilot too—sounds like you boys ran into a real cowboy.”

“I don't think he saw us coming, any more than we saw him,” Frank said.

Bump shook his head in disgust. “He shouldn't even have been up there. Once fog rolls in, it's way too dangerous—well, I guess I don't have to tell you that!” He laughed again. “Listen, I'll try to find out who it was. Can't let him get away with shenanigans like that.”

I hated to see somebody get fired, especially since there was no way it was intentional. “Aw, that's okay,” I said. “I think we'd rather just let it go….”

“Now, you just leave it to me,” Bump said, turning back to look at us. “It's my job to keep my town safe, and that's what I'm gonna do.” He nodded slowly. “I know people, and I can get things done. You just watch me.”

There was something about the way he said it
that gave me a chill. Underneath his friendly politician act, I could see that Bump Rankowski wasn't somebody you'd want to cross.

The sun was setting, and lights were coming on all along the shore. “There's Ocean Point now!” Bump said, pointing to a cluster of lights in the distance. “Beautiful, isn't she?”

We nodded in agreement, staring down at the town as we approached. I could see a boardwalk with lots of stores, restaurants, and attractions. There was even a small pier with rides and arcades—sort of a miniature version of Seaside Heights or Asbury Park.

“Looks like a good time,” I said, giving Bump a wink.

“Oh, you boys are gonna flip for it,” he assured us. “No place like it.”

Frank cleared his throat, and I knew what was coming. “Um, didn't I read something somewhere about some robberies happening there recently? What was it, jewelry stores?”

I could see Bump's face freeze into a mask. His smile was still in place, white as ever, but his eyes had changed somehow. Behind them, the wheels were working.

“Oh, that,” he said, forcing a laugh. “Just a once-in-a-blue-moon kind of thing. You know, people
come into town from all over. Once in a while, there's bound to be a bad apple.”

“Right,” Frank agreed, but I could tell he was starting to get suspicious.

SUSPECT PROFILE

Name: Arnold “Bump” Rankowski

Hometown: Ocean Point, New Jersey

Physical description: Age 48, 6′, 230 lbs., ruddy complexion, deep suntan, graying hair, always smiling, big teeth.

Occupation: Mayor of Ocean Point

Background: Wealthy entrepreneur/ politician who was born in Ocean Point and wound up as its mayor. Never married. No children.

Suspicious behavior The sense that he's got a secret.

Suspected of: Is he hiding what he knows about the jewel thefts?

Possible motives: Saving his town's reputation, maybe?

“Has the thief been caught yet?” Frank asked.

“Not yet,” Bump said, staring straight ahead as he pointed us toward the landing strip. “But we've got the best police department on the whole shore, and they're on the case. Don't you boys worry. Ocean Point is as safe a spot as you'll ever find.”

He brought us in for a perfect landing, and we taxied to a stop outside the small terminal building. “Come on,” he said. “I'll drive you to your hotel. Where are you staying?”

“Well, we hadn't figured that out yet,” I said. “Any suggestions?”

“Are you kidding?” he said. “I've got a million of them.”

He drove us to the Surfside Inn, just half a block from the boardwalk. “Here you go,” he said, pulling over. “Best spot in town if you're on a budget—and most kids your age are.”

“Thanks, Mr. Rankowski,” Frank said. “I mean, Bump.”

“Don't be strangers, now. If you need anything, you can find me at City Hall, over on Main Street.”

“Well,” Frank said, as Bump pulled away in his big black Lincoln. “That was interesting.”

“Weird,” I said. “What did you think of our new friend?”

“He's definitely a politician,” Frank said. “You've
got to take everything he says with a grain of salt.”

“Did you see how he froze up when you mentioned the robberies?”

“Definitely.”

“I guess he's not happy that the news is getting around.”

“Would you be, if you were the mayor?”

“Good point,” I said. “Well, I don't know about you, but I'm beat. Let's check in, get some supper, and hit the sack.”

“What, no partying?” Frank said, giving me an elbow in the ribs.

“Shut up,” I said.

6.
Ocean Point

I woke up the next morning when the sun rose over the horizon and shone right smack into my face. It glinted over the ocean, magnifying the light till it was blinding. There was no way to keep on sleeping.

“Oh, man,” I said to Joe, who was holding his pillow over his head to keep the light away. “You forgot to close the curtains!”

“
I
forgot?” He threw his pillow at me. I threw mine at him.

“Close the curtains,” he said.

“Me? Why me? You're closer to the window.”

“Because, dude,” Joe groaned. “I hurt all over.”

“
You
hurt? Hey, I'm the one who almost got crushed in that grain bin!”

“Big deal,” Joe said. “I'm the one who got kicked by a cow!”

“I'm the one who went out on the wing of the plane!”

“Okay, okay,” Joe said, hoisting himself up and going to close the curtains. Half a minute later he was back in bed and passed out.

Despite my victory, I couldn't get back to sleep, so I took a hot shower instead. It took some of the soreness out of my muscles. Then I went downstairs to check out the scene.

It was a gorgeous summer morning. The hotel was only half a block from the boardwalk. In between was a miniature golf course, already packed with kids and their parents.

It was a little early for swimming, but by ten o'clock, lots of people would be on the beach and in the water. It was going to be a hot one.

I had some pancakes at the restaurant up the block, then went back up to the room to wake Joe. Time was a-wasting. We had to get started if we wanted to nail our serial jewel thief.

Joe was already up, out of the shower, and in his bathing suit. “Time to check out the scenery!” he said. “I'm feeling ir-res-istible today. Hey, how does my eye look?”

“Better,” I lied. “It barely shows. Still, you'd better
come up with a good story to explain how you got it.”

“Whatever I do come up with, you'd better back me up.”

“Don't worry about it.”

“Come on, let's hit the beach.”

“Joe, don't you think we'd better do some investigating first? I mean, we're here on a case, remember?”

Joe gave me a look. “All work and no play makes Frank a dull boy.”

“How 'bout we go to the jewelry stores that got hit, and see what we can find out?” I suggested.

“Later,” Joe said, admiring himself in his new bathing suit. “Gotta take a swim first.”

“Joe …”

“Maybe do a little surfing … we could rent boards….”

“Joe …”

“Hey, there's information to be dug up on the beach, too, right? Right?”

I sighed, shook my head, and went to get my suit on.

There's no arguing with Joe sometimes. Like when the surf looked this good.