Elsa had entered the room crying. Dorothy seemed ready for a breakdown. But not Vince. He was smiling as he leaned against the door. “Way to go, Theo. Did you pop him a good one?”
Theo smiled, finally. He realized he would tell his story a hundred times, so why not dress it up a bit? “Yep,” he said.
“Attaboy. Look, Theo, you’ve just learned a valuable lesson. There comes a time when you gotta stand your ground, regardless of the circumstances.”
“I couldn’t back down,” Theo said.
“Suspensions are no big deal, as long as they don’t become a habit. I got one in the sixth grade.”
“No kidding?”
“True story. I grew up in Northchester and we walked to school. There was a bully named Jerry Prater, a tough kid, and he was giving me a hard time. About once a week, he would catch me on the playground before school and knock me down, kick me some, and grab my lunch box. He would take the good stuff, the chips, Twinkies, ham sandwiches, and leave me the apples and carrots. The next day, he would grab one of my buddies and go through the same routine. I guess Jerry was always hungry. Anyway, he was making our lives pretty miserable. I had an older brother in high school, and he explained to me that bullies are really cowards and until you take a stand things will just get worse. My brother told me what to do. I hid my lunch in my backpack and filled my lunch box with rocks. The next morning I saw Jerry on the playground and headed toward him. He was about to punch me when I suddenly swung the lunch box and hit him in the face. Hard. I mean it was a nasty blow that cut a gash in his cheekbone. He screamed and fell down, and I whacked him a few more times in the head. There was a crowd by now, and a teacher came running over. They took him to the doctor and sewed him up. Eighteen stitches, ten across his cheekbone. Everybody yelled at me and my dad came to the school and picked me up. I explained the situation and he had no problem with it. My mom cried, but that’s what moms do. Anyway, Jerry left me alone after that.”
“That’s awesome. How long was the suspension?”
“A week. I was a hero for a short time, but after a while I felt bad about it. Jerry Prater deserved to get punched, but he had this scar on his face. That was my last fight, Theo. I stood up to a bully, but I used a weapon. I should have used my fists and nothing else. I still feel bad about it.”
“What happened to Jerry?”
“He dropped out of school and later went to prison. Never had much of a chance. Anyway, you did the right thing, so don’t spend too much time worrying about it.”
“I don’t want my mom to yell at me.”
“She won’t. I know that woman very well, Theo.”
After he left, Theo fell asleep and Judge went to look for food.
They met in the conference room during lunch. Theo sat at the end of the long, imposing table, with a parent on each side. Before him was a chicken salad sandwich which he had no desire to eat. His appetite was gone.
His mother was not smiling but she wasn’t yelling either. It was obvious that she and Mr. Boone had had their little private meeting about their son and his suspension, so Mrs. Boone was over the shock.
“If this happened again, what would you do differently, Theo?” she asked, calmly, as she sipped an iced tea.
Theo chewed on a piece of lettuce and considered the question, which he found interesting. “Well, Mom, I’m not sure. I could do nothing to prevent the fight because it began so quickly. And, I couldn’t exactly break it up because Woody and Baxter were really going at it. When Griff jumped on Woody, I felt like I had no choice. Woody was fighting for me. The least I could do was help him.”
“So, you wouldn’t do anything differently?”
“I guess not.”
“Does that mean you’ve learned nothing from this little episode?”
“I’ve learned that I don’t like fighting. Getting punched in the face and kicked in the head is not that pleasant. There are a few guys who like to fight, but not me.”
“I’d say that is a valuable lesson learned,” Mr. Boone chimed in as he took a bite of his sandwich.
It appeared as though Mrs. Boone was about to begin a lecture when Elsa tapped on the door. She opened it and said, “Sorry to bother, but the police are here.”
“Why?” Mr. Boone asked. Theo wanted to crawl under the table.
“They want to talk to Theo, and his parents, of course.”
Detectives Hamilton and Vorman were back. With lunch interrupted, they settled into two seats on one side of the table and placed a large white envelope in front of them. The Boones readjusted themselves on the other side.
“Sorry to disturb lunch,” Hamilton said. “We stopped by to chat with the two of you and were told that Theo is here. A suspension?”
“That’s correct,” Mrs. Boone said sharply. She was obviously irritated.
“Suspension for what?”
“I’ll be happy to answer that if you can convince me it’s any of your business.”
It was none of their business, and Hamilton’s face blushed as his partner gave him a look of frustration.
Go get ’em, Mom, Theo said to himself. With a lawyer on each side, he felt well protected. However, he was nervous and sitting on his hands to keep them from shaking.
“I’m sure there’s a good reason for this visit,” Mr. Boone said.
Vorman leaned forward and said, “Yes, well, we wanted to talk to Theo about the baseball cap that was stolen from his locker on Monday. Would you describe it for us, Theo?”
Theo looked up at his mother, then at his father. Both nodded. Go ahead, answer the question. He said, “It’s navy blue with a red bill, adjustable strap, with the Twins logo in the middle of the front.”
“Any idea who made the cap?” Vorman asked.
“Nike.”
“Any identifying marks on the cap?”
“My initials, T.B., on the underside of the bill.”
“What did you use to write your initials?”
“A black Magic Marker.”
Vorman slowly opened the envelope, removed a cap, and slid it across the table to Theo. “Is this your cap?”
Theo held it, gave it a quick inspection, and said, “Yes, sir.”
“Where did you find it?” Mrs. Boone asked.
“At the computer store, Big Mac’s. The cleaning crew comes in every Wednesday night, after hours. Last night, they were doing the floors when one of them swept under a counter and found this. The thief broke in around nine p.m. Tuesday night, and somehow in the mad scramble to steal what he wanted and make a quick getaway, he lost his cap.”
Theo stared at the cap and wanted to cry. His favorite cap was now being used as evidence against him. It did not seem fair. The proof was piling up. For some weird reason he could hear Baxter’s obnoxious voice: “Jailbird. Jailbird.”
For a moment, his parents seemed unable to speak. Theo wasn’t about to make a sound. The detectives stared at them with looks of grim satisfaction, as if to say, “You’re nailed. Let’s see you worm your way out of it this time.”
Finally, Mrs. Boone cleared her throat and said, “Looks as though the thief is very clever. He planned his crime carefully, with the intention of framing Theo. On Monday, he stole the cap, then left it at the scene of the crime, and on Wednesday he returned to the locker with the stolen goods.”
“That’s one theory,” Vorman said, “And you might be right. But we’re also working with another theory, one that has Theo wearing the cap Tuesday night, maybe to help disguise his face when he entered the store, around nine, and we know he was in the vicinity around that time, he even admits this, and in his rush to grab the tablets and laptops and cell phones he lost his cap, and here it is. And, of course, we found some of the stolen loot in his locker on Wednesday.”
“It’s kinda hard to ignore Theo as a suspect,” Hamilton added.
“Very hard,” Vorman agreed. “In fact, with most investigations we don’t have this much evidence against a suspect.”
&nb
sp; It was Hamilton’s turn. “We find it odd that you didn’t report the first break-in on Monday. Locker theft is rare at the school, yet you didn’t report it. And you have given us no good reason for this failure.”
Vorman: “It could be that there was no break-in on Monday. When you got caught with the stolen tablets on Wednesday, you said someone broke in and left them in your locker. To make this sound believable, you added the little twist that someone had robbed your locker two days before.”
Hamilton: “But there was no record of that. No proof.”
Vorman: “And this mysterious thief was unseen by anyone at the school. Kinda hard to believe with eighty eighth graders and dozens of teachers, plus janitors and assistants. Busy hallways and such. Hard to believe.”
Hamilton: “Pretty incredible story, if you ask me.”
This tag team was making Theo sick. He closed his eyes, gritted his teeth, and told himself not to cry.
“You don’t believe my son?” Mrs. Boone asked. To Theo, it was obvious that they did not.
“Let’s just say that we’re still investigating,” Vorman replied.
“Did you check the cap for fingerprints?” Mr. Boone asked.
“We did. It’s difficult to get good prints from cloth, so we were unsuccessful. Our lab guys are pretty sure that there are no prints. Looks like the thief wore gloves and was very careful. No prints on the tablets, none on the cap, none at the crime scene.”