Say It Ain't So (18 page)

Kyle continued. “I think somehow if I get a message to my mom and make her think it's from my dad apologizing, that would just be enough.
That would get it all started and it would go from there.”

“Um-hurm,” I said again.

“So do you think you can help me?” he said. “I, uh, I can pay you.”

“You had me at ‘pay you,' ” I said.

“That was the last thing I said. You can't say ‘You had me' about the last thing. It's supposed to be the first thing.”

“Well, okay then!” I said.

“So you'll take the case?” he said.

“I'll tell you what,” I said. “I'll think about it. If I come up with something, you'll hear from me.”

He told me his address and again I wished I had a notebook. I didn't have any desire to take this impossible, ridiculous case Kyle was trying to hand me. But I did want to write something else down. He was giving me … a clue.

It was Saturday. I had a few cases cooking. But nothing going on with any of them. Not really. I wasn't sure where to go next. Why wasn't real life more like baseball? You just try to go from base to base until you're home. Just score more runs than the other team and you win. Solving cases wasn't like that. Life wasn't like that. You never knew which direction things would fly off in. And sometimes even if you got what you were looking for, you'd find you didn't want it at all.… Okay, there was also Kyle's case.… Well, was that even a case? Maybe a job for a spy, not a detective. I told him I'd think about it, but that was a lie.

I wasn't coming up with anything in my sign-stealing investigation either. I had some theories—at least I thought I did. But I couldn't prove any of it. Plus, I really didn't want to get punched in the
face again. It was so weird. I couldn't turn to Mike for help. I couldn't turn to Other Mike either. I honestly had no idea what to do.

I sort of wanted to talk to my dad about it, but somehow the conversation would come back to my “shiner.” I was already committed to that lie. I enjoyed a certain amount of freedom and didn't want to compromise it. Would they let me go off on my own if they knew I was sneaking around, investigating crimes, getting shiners? No, they would not.

So I had nowhere else to turn but to Maria Bonzer.

I didn't have her phone number or email or anything, but I did know where she lived. And I had nothing to lose. It was a slow Saturday at the Norbeck house. I don't know if I mentioned this before or not, but my mom GOT RID OF, LIKE, ALL MY TOYS. So I decided to bust out the bike and go knock on Maria's door.

I couldn't help but feel nervous on the ride over there. It was close to Griffith Middle School, which meant it was close to where I got punched in the face. I didn't like to admit it, but it was sort of traumatic. I kept my eyes peeled for ninjas, or anyone else who might want to fight me.

I crossed Center Street and found Maria's house, at least the one I thought was hers. They kind of all looked the same. Thankfully, there was a Phillies flag stuck in the planters outside the one I was pretty sure was hers. I rang the doorbell and waited.

Two seconds later, she opened the door.

Three seconds later, she slammed the door.

Then she opened it again. “Ha-ha, just kidding, Lenny. What's up?”

“Nothing,” I said. “What's up with you?”

“Nothing? You're the one who rode your bike all the way over here. You must want to talk to me about something. You have any developments in the case?”

“Developments in the—No. Can I come in?”

She looked back over her shoulder and seemed to think about it for a while. “How about I come out there?” she said. “Just let me find some shoes.”

I stood outside the door for what seemed like way too long. Maybe she didn't really want to talk to me. Maybe shoes were really hard to find. Girls were strange, that much was obvious.

Finally
she showed back up at the door. “Let's walk and talk,” she said.

“Took you long enough,” I said.

“Things are weird at home,” she said.

I didn't ask for additional information, but she offered it anyway. “My parents used to fight all the time. Then they got a divorce. For the longest time I would have done anything to get them back together. I used to have crazy plans, like if I could just trick them or something.… Anyway, my mom's doing much better. But she really hates men, I think. Boys too.”

“Sorry?” I said.

“That's okay,” she said. “I assured her that you weren't really a boy.”

“Thanks?” I said.

“You know what I mean,” she said, and punched me in the arm. I suspected that I
did
know what she meant, but I wasn't sure I liked it. I didn't have time to dwell on it, because she started peppering me with questions.

“When is Hunter's next game?” she asked.

“Wednesday,” I said. “Against Highland.”

“Okay, fine. If he pitches well there, we know what that means.”

“What?”

“That Griffith
was
stealing signs.”

“Yeah, probably,” I said. “Or that Highland stinks like rotten eggs.”

“Do you have any leads? Any suspects?” she asked.

“Well, just the one,” I said. I told her about how Davis got kicked off the team for stealing. And about how he comes to all the games.

Then I told her all about how—and why—I suspected Mike of framing Davis. I told her how we had a big fight and how he said we weren't friends anymore.

“So why did you just tell me that whole thing about how Davis did it?”

“I don't know,” I said. “I'm just trying to convince myself.”

“But you are convinced it was Mike?” she asked.

“Pretty convinced,” I said.

“That's seriously messed up,” she said.

“I know,” I said. “That's why I'm asking you for help.”

“This was a wise choice,” she said with an evil grin.

“Hey,” I said. “Didn't you say that your phone got stolen back in Philly?”

“Yeah,” she said.

“Think they're connected?” I asked.

“Um, they're all connected, because everyone in the world has a phone these days. That's like
saying that because that one guy has a face and that other guy has a face, they must be brothers.”

“Totally,” I said.

“Are you even listening?” she asked.

“Yeah, I'm listening. Totally. Total face brothers.” But the truth is, I
wasn't
listening. I was thinking. Dangerous, I know. I was doing some
good
thinking. Then I was yelling. “I think I solved the case!”

“You know who was stealing Schwenkfelder's signs and how?” Maria said, coming to an abrupt stop on the sidewalk. She turned to face me.

“No!” I said.

“You know who but not how?”

“No!”

“You know how but not who?”

“No!” I said again. I knew it was getting annoying, but I couldn't stop. “I know neither who nor how,” I said. “I have solved the other case.”

“Is it the question of who the most annoying person in the universe is?” she asked, starting to walk again. “Because I think I have solved that one too.”

“The case I have solved is the question of the missing cell phone. Now, I don't like Davis Gannett and you don't either,” I said.

“I have never met him,” she said. Not helpful.

“Whatever,” I said. “The point is this: He's a jerk. And I wanted to believe that he was the one who stole the phone. We all wanted that. But he insisted that he was innocent, and Other Mike believed him.”

“Personally, I'm not totally sure we should trust Other Mike's perspective on this or anything else,” she said. “But carry on.”

“Other Mike is kind of a genius, if you haven't noticed,” I said.

“I haven't,” she said.

“Well, he said he thought Davis was innocent, and that someone else must have been the one to steal the phone. That's why I started to suspect Mike. But it wasn't Mike.”

“Yes, but
who
?” she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm. I ignored the sarcasm.

“Yes,” I said. “That is the question. Who else would steal Kyle Webb's father's cell phone? And why?”

“Yes,” she said. “Those are the questions.”

“Well, don't ask me,” I said. “Let's go ask the thief.”

I really did wish I had that notebook. As it was, I had to trust my memory. There are trustier things out there, let me tell you that much. But I thought I remembered the address, more or less. Something with some fours and fives in it anyway. “Come on, Maria,” I said. “Let's go to Kyle Webb's house.”

“What?” she said. “Didn't you just say Kyle was the guy who had his phone stolen? And we're going to see the thief? Who steals their own phone?”

“Not
his
own phone,” I said. “His dad's.”

“What's he going to do with his own dad's cell phone? Like his dad wouldn't find out?”

“Not to keep it permanently,” I said. “He just wanted to use it for a little while. Like how you said the jerk who stole your phone kept texting people you knew? What if that's what Kyle wanted to do?”

“Why would Kyle want to text people who know
me
?”

“No, Kyle wanted to text people from his
dad's
address book. Kyle wanted to text people
pretending
to be his dad! Specifically, Kyle's mom. Remember how you said you wanted to trick your parents into getting back together? That's what Kyle was doing. His parents were going through a divorce. Kyle thought he could save the marriage, keep them together. He told me as much. He asked me to help him. I'll bet he thought he could swipe his dad's phone and start secretly sending friendly texts. Like ‘Oh, I'm so sorry, I still want to be married to you, kissy kissy hug hug.' ”

“Kissy kissy hug hug?”
Maria said, arching an eyebrow. “Is that how you text, Lenny?”

I blushed. “What? Me? No. Of course not. But the point is, that's exactly how Kyle would text
if
he was pretending to be his dad. Trying to get back together with his mom!”

“So then, what—his dad came into the locker room? And Kyle was afraid he'd be seen with it? So he stashed it the first place he could think of?”

“Right. He stashed it in Davis's shin guard. Kyle's dad is truly terrifying, so Kyle definitely didn't want it to come out that he was the one who
took the phone. His dad would kill him! Mr. Webb basically wanted to murder Kyle when he dropped a pop-up. In foul territory! Plus, Kyle didn't love Davis. Nobody did. Two birds, one stone.”

I felt a huge weight off my back. I could literally breathe easier. Phew. It was so nice to know that Mike wasn't the one who framed Davis! It was like having my old friend back. Not that he
was
my friend. I was going to have to apologize. The thought did not sit well. I tried to stop having it.

Thankfully, I got distracted. “There,” I said, really proud of myself. “Kyle Webb's house.”

“How do you know?” Maria said.

“A good detective knows everything,” I said. “Plus, that's Kyle in the driveway.” I pointed. He was throwing a baseball to himself and catching it. Just launching it up underhand and waiting for it to fall. Alone. That's always kind of a sad thing to see. It was, like, even more sad because you knew his dad was a jerk.

“Wow,” Maria said to me. “You truly are the Sherlock Holmes of suburbia.” Then she yelled, “I got it!” toward Kyle.

It startled him and he dropped the ball. It was kind of mean, but I laughed. Kyle looked sheepish.

“Oh, hey, Lenny,” he said, squinting to recognize me.

“Hi, Kyle,” I said once we were closer. “This is Maria Bonzer. Her uncle is the librarian.”

“That's right,” she said. “Try to contain your excitement.”