Encyclopedia Brown Saves the Day (4 page)

“He must be working at building a junk yard in his attic,” thought Encyclopedia.

Junk—anything that stayed put—filled every corner. Some of it stood in newly painted mounds. Most just stood rusting away.

Four Wheels got to the point. “Where’s my bicycle wheel?”

“Bicycle wheel?” repeated Pablo.

“The one you stole from my garage this morning!” growled Four Wheels.

“My dear fellow, you are talking rot,” said Pablo. “It is true that I collect things to use in making my sculpture. But I do not steal!”

The boy artist walked across the attic.

“This is my newest piece,” he said, pointing to a pile of wire clothes hangers, coffee pots, magazines, stove legs, an apple, and an automobile tire. “I shall paint it white and call it
Still Life with Apple.”

“Bravo!” squealed Sally in delight.

Encyclopedia and Four Wheels, being struck speechless, could only stare.

“I haven’t been out of the house today,” said Pablo. “So how could I steal a bicycle wheel? I’ve been sitting right here in this old chair working since breakfast. I got up only to answer your knock.”

Encyclopedia studied the old chair. It was pulled close to
Still Life with Apple.
The chair was falling apart, but it looked better than Pablo’s sculpture.

Small drops of white paint were splattered over the chair. The boy detective ran his hand lightly over the chair’s cool seat and touched a few drops. They were dry.

“I don’t see my wheel anyplace,” whispered Four Wheels.

“Keep searching,” said Encyclopedia. “You could hide a battleship in this mess.”

Pablo had begun to show Sally around his studio. She followed him like a puppy and hung on every word.

“Upon finding an object in which something else is suggested, the artist uses his skill to bring the idea to fulfillment,” said Pablo.

“Come again?” said Four Wheels from a corner.

The boy artist brought forth a board six feet long. On it were nailed a shovel, a fruit box, two smashed electric irons, a bent fan, and scraps of wallpaper.

“I call it
Man in Search of Himself,”
said Pablo.

“It’s beautiful!” exclaimed Sally. “It’s exciting! It lifts me into a world of new ideas!”

Pablo’s chest swelled. “I see you are not a beginner,” he said. “You understand that what is important in art has nothing to do with cost, or prettiness, or even—”

“Cleanliness!” called out Four Wheels as he crawled behind a dusty heap of tires and chains.

“Don’t pay any attention to him or Encyclopedia,” said Sally. “They don’t know great art when they see it!”

“Maybe not,” said Encyclopedia. “But I know a thief when I see one, and Pablo is a thief!”

 

WHAT MADE ENCYCLOPEDIA SURE?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Winslow Brant was Idaville’s master snooper.

He snooped wherever a grown-up might have thrown away something valuable by mistake. No trash pile or ash can was safe from him.

Snooping had rewarded him well. Already he owned the finest collection of bottle caps and dead tennis balls in the neighborhood.

He wasn’t snooping, however, when he came into the Brown Detective Agency. He was drooping.

“I nearly had it all,” he moaned and sagged against the wall.

“Had what?” asked Encyclopedia.

“Treasure,” said Winslow. “The dream of every great snooper—treasure beyond belief!”

“Your big chance slipped through your fingers?”

“No, it
ran,”
said Winslow. He whipped out a piece of cloth. The colors had run together, making one large red smear. “It was a map showing where Henri La Farge buried some of his treasure!”

Everyone in the state knew of the famous pirate Henri La Farge. Two hundred years ago he had made his hideout among the small islands several miles south of Idaville. There, someplace, he supposedly buried a fortune.

“The map was in a broken music box I found yesterday morning on the Smith’s trash pile,” said Winslow. Then he told his sad story.

He had showed the map to Pete Alders, who was sixteen and owned a sailboat. Pete had agreed to take Winslow to the islands in return for a share of the treasure.

The boys had reached their destination after dark, and so they spent the night aboard ship. In the morning, Winslow had found the map drying on deck, ruined. Pete said he had used it to plug a leak during the night. In the dark, he had thought he was using a pillowcase.

“I’ll bet Pete first made a copy of the map so he can have all the treasure for himself,” said Winslow angrily. “After he brought me home, he probably returned to the islands.”

“He won’t find anything there but a , sunburn,” said Encyclopedia. He pointed to a tiny black smudge on the back of the map.

“Gosh, I never noticed that,” said Winslow. “What is it?”

“It
was
writing,” replied Encyclopedia. “It said ‘New York World’s Fair.’ Your map was just a souvenir that cost fifty cents. My dad had one in the attic for years.”

“Well, I’ll be cow-kicked,” said Winslow in disgust. “Worthless!” Suddenly his face lit up. “Pete’s off digging for treasure—
he thinks.
Serves him right, the dirty double-crosser!”

“We don’t know that Pete ruined your map on purpose,” Encyclopedia said.

“I’ll hire you,” said Winslow. “If you find out that Pete copied my map, don’t tell him the truth about it. Let him dig till he hears chopsticks.”

Encyclopedia agreed, and two hours later the boys were heading toward the islands in a skiff borrowed from Sally Kimball’s uncle.

They looked in at five islands before they spied Pete’s sailboat. She was anchored in a small cove. One of her portholes was slightly open.

“Pete will be digging by a group of three coconut trees,” said Winslow, hopping ashore. “The map showed a treasure chest was buried at the foot of the center tree.”

After a short walk inland, the boys spied three coconut trees growing close together. Pete was there, digging wearily in the hot sun.

“Boy, he looks ready to lean on his tongue,” said Winslow happily.

“He’s so greedy he believes those three trees are the ones on the map,” replied Encyclopedia.

Pete was surprised to see the boys. He gave Winslow a weak smile as he climbed out of the hole. “You know I’ll split what I find with you,” he said nervously.

“Sure, Pete,” said Winslow. “And I see you fixed the sailboat. I never did ask you where the leak was.”

“Well ... ah ... it was ... ah ... a porthole,” said Pete. “It wouldn’t close.”

“One porthole was stuck,” said Winslow. “I remember.” His words seemed to put Pete more at ease.

The older boy said, “After you lay down in the cabin last night, I stayed on deck checking things. I saw that we had anchored at low tide. In a little while, the tide started coming in.”

“You see very well in the dark,” said Encyclopedia.

“There was moonlight,” said Pete. “I could see the high water mark on the shore. It was then about two and a half feet above the water level.”

“What has high and low tide got to do with my map getting wet and ruined?” demanded Winslow.

“The tide rose about five inches an hour,” said Pete. “The portholes are eighteen inches above the waterline. In less than four hours the tide would rise to the open porthole. Water would pour in and sink the boat.”

“So you plugged the porthole and saved the boat,” said Winslow. “With my map!”

“That was a mistake, I told you,” said Pete. “The cabin was so dark I thought I had a pillowcase. Honest.”

Winslow looked uncertain. He turned to Encyclopedia and whispered, “Pete may be telling the truth.”

“No, he wet your map on purpose to keep you from finding what he thought was buried treasure,” said Encyclopedia. “His story about the porthole doesn’t hold water!”

 

WHY NOT?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Shortly after four o‘clock on Wednesday afternoon Jane Foster came into the Brown Detective Agency. Her eyes were brimming with tears.

She looked from Sally to Encyclopedia. “You’ve got to help me,” she said. “Somebody robbed my dad’s store while I was minding it!”

Mr. Foster owned the Sunset Five-and-Dime. Encyclopedia bought his school supplies and bubble gum there.

“You should report a robbery to the police,” he said.

“I can‘t!” said Jane, blowing her nose. “I don’t want my dad to find out I was careless. I left the side door unlocked!”

She put a quarter on the gas can beside Encyclopedia. “Please help me get the money back!”

“I’ll do what I can, but I don’t have much time,” said Encyclopedia. “My mom will want me in for dinner in two hours.”

“We don’t even have two hours,” said Jane. “My dad will be back from Glenn City in an hour!”

Gloom filled the Brown Agency. One hour! Could Encyclopedia learn enough in one hour to solve the robbery?

“We’d better get started,” he said. He spoke with a cheerfulness he didn’t feel. “Don’t worry, Jane. Everything will turn out fine.”

To save time, the three children did not use their bikes to get to town. They rode the Number 3 bus. On the way, Jane told Encyclopedia all she knew about the robbery.