Both detectives found this amusing. A thirteen-year-old kid asking for a lawyer. They dealt with thugs and criminals all day long, and every one of them demanded a lawyer. This kid must watch too much television.
“We’d like to see your locker,” Hamilton said.
Theo knew it was unwise to agree to any type of search. Car, home, pockets, office, even locker—never agree to a search. If the police believed there was evidence of a crime, then they could go to a judge and get a warrant, or written permission, and conduct a search. However, Theo knew he had done nothing wrong and, like all innocent people, wanted to prove this to the police. He also knew the school could open his locker without his approval.
“Sure,” he said, somewhat reluctantly, and both detectives, as well as Mrs. Gladwell, could not help but notice that Theo hesitated before agreeing to a search. The four left the office and headed down the empty hallway. The bell would ring in less than fifteen minutes, and there would be plenty of students to witness Theo in the presence of two dark-suited strangers. Within seconds the entire school would know that he was being investigated for something. When they stopped in front of his locker, Theo glanced around. The hall was empty.
“When did you last open your locker?” Hamilton asked.
“When I got to school this morning. Around eight thirty.”
“So, about two hours ago.”
“Yes, sir.”
“And did you notice anything unusual at that time?”
“No, sir.” Theo wanted to mention the fact that a stranger had been in his locker on Monday, but he was suddenly in a hurry. He was terrified that someone might see him with two cops and the principal.
“You can open it now,” Hamilton said.
Theo punched in the code—58343 (Judge)—and pulled open the door. Nothing appeared to be missing, but something had certainly been added. On the left side, leaning against some textbooks, were three slender objects Theo had never seen before.
“Don’t touch anything,” Hamilton said as he leaned down and in and breathed on Theo’s neck. Vorman and Mrs. Gladwell huddled close, and for a few seconds no one moved or said a word. Finally, Hamilton asked, “See anything unusual, Theo?”
With a dry mouth, Theo managed to say, “Yes, sir. Those are not mine.”
The slender objects were Linx 0-4 Tablets, the hottest and lightest personal computers dominating the marketplace. With stunning graphics, unlimited memory, a million applications, and a price tag of $399, the 0-4 was cheaper, yet far more sophisticated than its current competition. Detective Vorman, wearing surgical gloves and treating the 0-4s like rare diamonds, placed them side by side on Mrs. Gladwell’s desk. Big Mac had been called and was on his way to identify his stolen property.
“Please call my mother,” Theo said to Mrs. Gladwell. “Or my father. It doesn’t matter.”
“Not so fast,” Hamilton said. “We have some more questions.”
“I’m not answering any more questions,” Theo said. “I want my parents here.”
“If Theo says he didn’t steal these tablets, then I believe him,” Mrs. Gladwell said.
“Thank you so much,” Hamilton said.
“How did you know they were there?” Theo asked.
“And once again, young Theo, please, we’ll handle the questions,” Hamilton said. His tone and attitude had been lousy to start with; now, with the evidence in hand and the crime apparently solved, he was becoming unbearable.
“Can I call his parents?” Mrs. Gladwell asked.
“Sure you can,” Theo said. “They don’t run this school. They can’t tell you what to do.”
“Knock it off, kid,” Vorman said.
“I beg your pardon!” Mrs. Gladwell said. “Don’t talk to my student in such a manner. Theo is no criminal. I believe whatever he says.”
Theo walked to a spot beside Mrs. Gladwell, who was seated at her desk, and removed his cell phone. Using speed dial, he called the offices of Boone & Boone. Elsa answered, and Theo, staring straight into the angry eyes of Detective Hamilton said, “Hey, Elsa, it’s me, Theo. I need to talk to Mom.”
“Something wrong, Theo?”
“No. Just let me talk to Mom.”
“She’s in court, Theo. She’ll be tied up all morning.”
“Okay, then let me talk to Dad.”
“He’s not here. He’s in Wilkesburg closing a land deal. What’s going on, Theo?”
Theo did not have the time to chat with Elsa, and she could not help him anyway. The detectives were fuming and Theo figured he was almost out of time. He canceled the call to Elsa, punched another number for speed dial, and said, “Ike, it’s me, Theo.”
Ike replied, “Good morning, Theo. Why are you calling me at ten thirty?”
Theo said, “Ike, I’m at school and there are two detectives here accusing me of stealing computers that someone put in my locker. Can you get down here?”
“That’s enough, kid,” Hamilton growled. Ike did not respond but his office line went dead.
Theo slapped his phone shut and returned it to his pocket. Technically, this was a violation of school rules. Only eighth graders were allowed to have phones on campus, and a few of them did. Their use was strictly controlled. All cell phones had to be turned off during classes and could be used only during recess and lunch. Under the circumstances, though, Theo doubted if Mrs. Gladwell would be upset with him. She was not.
“We haven’t accused you of anything,” Hamilton said. “We’re just doing our investigation, and when we find stolen goods in someone’s possession, then we have to ask questions. Doesn’t that make sense?”
“Theo didn’t steal the computers, okay?” Mrs. Gladwell said firmly.
Vorman decided to play the nice cop and offered a sappy smile. “So, Theo, if you didn’t place these computers in your locker, then someone else obviously did. Who else has the entry code to your locker?”
Safe question. Theo replied, “No one that I know of, but someone was in my locker Monday. They stole a Twins baseball cap and some other items. I didn’t report it at that time, but I was planning to.”
Mrs. Gladwell turned and looked at Theo. “You should have told us, Theo.”
“I know, I know. I’m sorry. I was going to discuss it with my parents first, then report it to you, but I never got the time.”
“And the school has a list of all entry codes?” Vorman asked.
“Yes, but it’s protected in a secure file in our main computer,” Mrs. Gladwell said.
“Has anyone ever hacked into it?”
“Not to my knowledge.”
“Has the school had a problem with people breaking into lockers?”
“No,” she replied. “Occasionally a student will fail to properly close a locker, and the door will be left slightly open. This might lead to a missing item or two, but I cannot recall a situation where a student obtained an entry code and went into another student’s locker.”
“How about you, Theo?” Vorman asked. “Do you know of anyone who got somebody else’s code and broke into their locker?”
“No, sir.”
Hamilton glanced at his notes, then looked at Theo and said, “During the break-in last night at Big Mac’s Systems, the thief or thieves took ten of these tablets, six fifteen-inch laptops, and about a dozen cell phones. You have any idea where this stuff is now?”
Theo gritted his teeth and said, “I don’t know anything about the break-in last night because I wasn’t there, and I don’t know how these tablets got into my locker. I said I wanted to talk to a lawyer, and I’m not answering any more questions until my lawyer is present.”
“Things will go smoother if you cooperate with us, Theo,” Hamilton said.
“I am cooperating. I allowed you to search my locker, and I’m telling the truth.”
Chapter 8
Big Mac was a small man, only slightly taller than Theo, and when he entered Mrs. Gladwell’s office he glared at the suspect as if he wanted to shoot him. Theo stood his ground behind the principal’s chair and watched as the detectives offered Big Mac a pair of surgical gloves.
“Why don’t you two wait outside?” Hamilton said, and Theo and Mrs. Gladwell stepped outside into the reception area. When the door was shut, she said, quietly, “I don’t know why they have to be so rude.”
“They’re just doing their job,” Theo said.
“Do you want to call your parents again?”
“Maybe later. They’re not in the office and they’re busy.”
The bell rang loudly, and Theo looked for a place to hide. Students would be changing classes, and it was not unusual for several of them to rush into the front office for urgent business. Someone might see him sitting there, looking guilty, detained for some reason. He found a magazine, hid his face behind it, and cowered near the watercooler as the noise from the halls rose through the school.
Inside Mrs. Gladwell’s office, Big Mac removed a small plate on the back of each tablet and checked the registration numbers. Using gloves to avoid smudging any possible fingerprints, he compared the number to his inventory list. “Yep, these came from my store,” he said. “Looks like you got your man.”
“We’ll see,” Hamilton said.
“What do you mean by that? You found these in that kid’s locker, right? Looks to me like you got him nailed, caught red-handed. I want to press charges right now. Let’s put the squeeze on him so we can find all the other stuff he stole.”
“We’ll handle the investigation, Mac.”
“I think I saw that kid in my store last week.”
Vorman looked at Hamilton. “Are you sure about this, Mac?”
“I can’t prove it, you know? A lot of kids come and go, but that one looks familiar.”
“He told us he’s never been in your store.”
“What do you expect him to say? We know he’s a thief, don’t we? If he’ll break in and steal, then I’m sure he’ll lie, too. I want that kid busted, okay? I lose a ton of money every year to shoplifters and thieves, and I prosecute everyone I catch.”
“Got it, Mac. We’ll wrap up the investigation and stop by the store when we’re finished. Thanks for your cooperation.”
“No problem. Just find the rest of my stuff, okay?”
“We’ll do that.”
Big Mac slammed the door to Mrs. Gladwell’s office, and as he stomped past Miss Gloria’s desk, he saw Theo hiding near the watercooler. “Hey you, kid, where’s the rest of the stuff you stole from my store?” he demanded. At that moment, there was a sixth-grade teacher chatting quietly with Mrs. Gladwell not far away, and there was a seventh-grade student with a fever lying on a small sofa. Everyone looked at Big Mac, then at Theo, who couldn’t speak for a second or two.
“I want my stuff, okay?” Big Mac said, even louder, and took a step toward Theo.
“I don’t have it,” Theo managed to say.
“If you don’t mind,” Mrs. Gladwell said to Big Mac. The door opened and Detective Vorman stepped out. He pointed a finger at Big Mac and said, “That’s enough. We’ll handle things here. You can go now.” Big Mac left without another word.
The bell was ringing to start third period. The sixth-grade teacher was staring at Theo as if he were a murderer. Mark Somebody, the student with the fever, was sitting up, staring at Theo. Miss Gloria’s eyebrows were arched, and her forehead was creased with thick wrinkles, a very guilty look. Theo wanted to shout that he was not a thief, had not stolen anything belonging to Big Mac, in fact had never stolen anything in his life, but for a few long seconds he just stood there in disbelief.
He had never before been accused of a crime.
Detective Vorman said, “Could you please come in?” Theo followed Mrs. Gladwell back into her office, where she sat in her large swivel chair behind her desk. Theo stood beside her; the two of them versus the two detectives.
Vorman said, “These were identified by the owner. Registration numbers match up all nice and neat. Now that we have recovered some of the stolen property, we need to thoroughly examine Mr. Boone’s locker. Check it carefully for fingerprints. Inventory its contents. That sort of thing.”
Hamilton chimed in, “And we’ll need to talk to the kids who have lockers near this one. Maybe they saw something or someone suspicious, you know, just routine stuff. The sooner we can do this the better. Kids have short memories, you know.”
Mrs. Gladwell knew that thirteen-year-olds have far better memories than adults, but she would not argue. She said, “Okay, but I’m certain you can wait until after three thirty this afternoon when classes are over. Why disrupt school during the day?”
Theo was horrified at the idea of the two detectives lining up his friends for questioning. Word would soon spread that Theo was under suspicion, that the cops were hot on his trail. Theo needed help. Mrs. Gladwell was doing her best to protect him, but Theo needed more firepower.
The door burst open and Ike stormed in. “What’s going on here!?” he demanded. “Theo, are you okay?”
“Not really,” Theo said.
Vorman stood and said, “I’m Detective Vorman, Strattenburg P.D. and this is my partner, Detective Hamilton. Who, may I ask, are you?” The introductions were stiff; none of the three men made any effort to shake hands.
“Ike Boone, formerly of Boone & Boone, attorneys, and Theo is my nephew.”
“And I’m Mrs. Gladwell, the principal. Welcome to my office.”