Chapter 3: It's A Jungle Gym Out There (Jimmy)

It took almost the entirety of the hike to the clubhouse before I was calmed enough to start telling JB the full scoop from my meeting with Mr. Krause. I still couldn’t believe it all myself. A bad detective? Me? I knew that our principal was getting older, but I thought that he still had a couple of good years left before his mind went completely. Poor guy. Having to add senility to the list of bald, old and annoying, I couldn’t help but feel a little pang of sympathy for the simpleton.

JB seemed to be a bit quieter than usual on our walk, but I chalked that up to him being excited about all of the cases that we were going to solve this summer. I couldn’t blame him, we were getting pretty good at it.

The clubhouse was about a fifteen minute walk from JB’s house, hidden away in the middle of Lions Park. I couldn’t help smiling like an idiot every time I went there, it was one of my greatest achievements so far.

We live in a super small and strange town in the Midwest, a place called Villa Park. Or 'Weird VP' as I like to call it. I learned in school that it was established in the 1800s by German immigrants looking for farmland. So I really shouldn’t have been surprised that it was super boring all the time. Also, according to my own investigation into the matter anyway, it was overrun by Nazis to boot. Mr. Krause? More like Mr. SauerKrause, am I right? That was a good one, I couldn’t wait to tell it to JB!

Weird VP may be small and sometimes inactive for a stretch, but it was always chocked full of mysteries waiting to be uncovered. It was the perfect training ground for a super sleuth in the making like myself. Why do so many things disappear and then end up on a lamp post over by the Jewel? Where does the Prairie Path really end? Is it true that the hill behind the high school is really an ancient Indian burial ground? And what could possibly be the nefarious reason behind all of the toilets spontaneously appearing on curbs all over town? Nobody knew, but I sure intended to be the first person to find out. All of those mysteries had to wait, however, as we already had our first case to take on.

We walked up the ramp to the park, careful not to scratch our hands on the sharp paint chips that were jutting from the fire engine red railings. Once we scaled the ramp and crossed the bridge, we came to the entrance of the clubhouse, my work of pure genius.

Our progress was halted by a crisscrossed web of caution tape; caution tape that I had, um, borrowed from the back of the police station. It had rolled out of a cruiser when an officer was getting into his car and I knew a good investment when I saw one.

With that roll of caution tape and some scrap wood I had commandeered from the annual construction on our highway, I had made a pretty convincing sight. Right at the top of the ramp there was a big round plastic tunnel for kids to crawl through. Once you are through it, you can take the twisty metal slide back down. I spun my web of bright yellow tape across the entrance of the tunnel as a deterrent, weaving a pattern so meticulously calculated that only a super agile person like myself or JB could navigate past it. Beyond the web of warning tape, I used a large piece of wood to write the words OUT OF ORDER and KEEP OUT and DANGEROUS and, my personal favorite, PARENTS WILL BE HELD FINANCIALLY ACCOUNTABLE FOR WHATEVER HAPPENS. No one ever disturbed it.

I dislodged the duct tape and wood chip system that held the big sign in place and, after glancing both ways to insure that no one was watching us, I moved the sign to the side and slipped inside, JB right behind me. As I secured the sign back in place behind us, I thought about how long we’d had this clubhouse without anyone finding out. It was awesome. They even had a town meeting about it once, the parents were all peeved about the park not being fixed in a timely fashion, or the looming threat of a lawsuit if any of their snot-nosed kids trespassed. Lots of angry people talked and whined and blamed, but nothing came of it as there was nothing to fix. I removed the sign when the inspectors came out and I put it back up as soon as they left, convincing them that everything was fine and they just shrugged and took their easy paycheck. It’s now been eight months and everyone has all but given up on it. It was the greatest hangout spot since the abandoned Ovaltine factory, and this one had a swirly slide for a quick escape. Or to pee down in case an investigation went long and you run out of bottles to use.

As soon as JB and I took our usual spots in the tunnel, I told him about the final moments of my meeting with our now former principal and the sweet exit line that I used. Then I revealed what I’d been pondering over ever since that talk had ended: my theories on what Mr. Krause was really saying.

“So, in closing, I think that he was trying to convince me to give up my investigating because I was too close to something. But which thing? Is it the lunch lady who I’m ninety nine percent sure is feeding us human meat on Meatloaf Mondays? Or how they might have cloned the whole marching band when they left for that field trip because they all came back acting weird, remember that? Or maybe it all goes back to the Nazi thing, it always does! More like Mr. SauerKrause, am I right JB?”

I sat back proudly, waiting for JB’s input on my investigation so far. My right hand man, my number one deputy. I never do a single case without him, which I could tell he appreciated so much.

JB remained quiet. I assumed he’s really deep in thought. “Well?” I prodded him. “What do you think? Do you think it’s the Nazi thing that we’ve been looking into? JB? The Nazis? JB? You think?” I looked at him until he met my gaze. He quickly broke eye contact and looked down before letting out a sigh. Uh oh. Not a good sign. My sleuthing sense was tingling.

“What do you think about what Mr. Krause said? About how investigating things makes school harder for you? Do you think that he might be right about that?” JB looked at his shoes after asking me that question, suddenly very interested in the way that his scuffed sneakers were laced.

Interesting, I thought to myself. What a suspicious question. I decided to give him the benefit of the doubt, maybe he’s just got a very early case of the summer sadness. He must not have understood what I was saying this whole time. 

“I already told you what I think,” I said very very slowly, making sure that even a dummy like him could follow my words, “I think that he was trying to scare me off because I am getting too close to the truth. In fact, remember the dead bird that appeared on the front step the other day? When I came over for dinner? You said that it was probably just a neighborhood cat, but what if it was him? What if it was a warning? Like, ‘you better not sing like a canary’, or something like that. It’s an old expression but remember, he might be a Nazi and they’re all old anyway, so that part checks out.”

JB nodded slowly, like an etch-a-sketch full of molasses. It seemed like my words were taking longer than usual for him to process. In fact, he was acting really weird. After another long moment, he sighed and met my gaze again. “Jimmy, I have to be honest with you about something."

"You should be honest with me about everything," I reminded him. He nodded again and went on.

"This last year I had so many extra classes and tournaments and stuff like that, it was really hectic. I was kind of hoping that this summer we could do something…different. Maybe, you know, take a break from working cases for a while? We could just go swimming and check out that pet store and play baseball and stuff.”

For the second time that day, I felt my heart in my face. And I felt like both were getting punched.

“My dad said that he would take both of us fishing. You don’t even have to get your own pole or anything, he said that he would get one for you no problem. Maybe we’ll even get to catch and say hi to the class goldfish you released in Lufkin Park, remember? The one that you said Mr. Gruetwine was performing mind control experiments on?”

My heart continued to pound away and I could feel the tunnel start to spin around me. Of course I remembered Swim Burton! I remembered him and I also remembered the way that our teacher tapped the fish food exactly three times before picking it up to feed him. Three taps every time. It was some kind of a Nazi fish morse code that I was still trying to crack. What did that have to do with any of this? Was it all connected? Did JB see something that I didn't?

I closed my eyes and swallowed hard, fighting back a lump that was forming in my throat. It felt like I was going to be sick. “Do you think that we need to consult with the fish about this? Like he has some sort of insider information? I’m trying to understand what you’re saying here, JB. It's hot in this tunnel right now and I don’t get it. Is this about the tapping code? Do you think it's all related?” 

I felt sweaty. I felt constricted. I felt like I couldn’t breathe. The tunnel continued to spin, gaining speed.

JB sighed and spoke again, trying to force excitement back into his voice. “No, no I don’t mean that we should consult a goldfish before we do our cases. I just think that we can use a break from the cases, from all of the spying and investigating and mysteries. Just for a while, just for one summer. Do you think we can?”

My throat tightened. No cases? No investigations? I fanned myself and clawed at my shirt. It was clinging to my body from nervous sweat. I felt like I was suffocating. “I think I need some air. Can we please take a walk?”

Without waiting for a reply, I allowed myself to dramatically collapse into the twisty slide entrance and I tumbled my way to the ground, the same way that my whole world seemed to be tumbling down around me.