The Accused

  service began, and almost bolted from the sanctuary when Mrs. Phyllis Thornberry happened by their pew and let it slip that they were “ . . . praying for Theo.” Mrs. Thornberry was an ancient member of the church and a terrible gossip, and Theo’s parents somehow resisted the urge to inform her that Theo was fine. Save your prayers for those who are truly in need.

  Theo liked Reverend Koker because he was young and energetic, and his sermons were sprinkled with humor and mercifully short. The old dude before him, “Pastor Pat” as he was known, had led the church for thirty years and was an awful preacher, in Theo’s opinion. His sermons were long and dull and could force even the most devout worshipper into a near-comalike trance in a matter of minutes. Koker, though, knew the art of the short sermon, and so far in his brief ministry at the church, he had been well received.

  The point of his sermon was that there are various ways in which we steal, and all of them are wrong in God’s eyes. The Eighth Commandment proclaimed by Moses was Thou Shall Not Steal, which, of course, means it is wrong to take something that belongs to another person. Koker was expanding on this, though, to include other forms of theft. Stealing time away from God, family, friends. Stealing the gift of good health by pursing bad habits. Stealing from the future by missing opportunities in the present. And so on. It was pretty confusing. Theo glazed over fairly quickly and began thinking about the Finn boys, and, specifically, how he and his little gang might get their hands on some of the stolen goods the Finns were perhaps trying to sell.

  Theo knew quite well that the first thing his father would say when they were in the car was, “Theo, how did you like the sermon?” For that reason, and none other, Theo tried desperately to pay attention.

  Theo glanced around and realized he wasn’t the only one drifting away. It was not a good sermon. His mind began to wander again. He asked himself how all of these fine people seated around him would react if “cute little Teddy Boone” got arrested and hauled into court. And what would they think if he couldn’t come to church anymore because he was locked away in a juvenile detention center?

  It was too awful to think about. Theo again tried to concentrate on the sermon, but his mind was racing. He began to fidget, and his mother squeezed his knee. He looked at his watch, but it seemed to have stopped cold.

  It was the second Sunday of the month, and this caused an unpleasant mood in the Boone family. Second Sunday meant that Theo and his parents would not leave church and go directly home, where they would lunch on sandwiches, read the Sunday newspapers, watch a game on television, take naps, and in general observe a day of rest. No, sir. Second Sunday had evolved into a ritual so dreadful that Theo and his parents were having sharp words. The Boones and three other families had established a tradition of rotating brunch on the second Sunday of each month, which meant that Theo would be required to suffer through a long meal at a long table with a bunch of adults and listen to them talk about things in which he had little interest. Theo was a late child, and this meant that he was by far the youngest person invited to Second Sunday.

  The oldest person was a retired judge named Kermit Lusk, who was also an elder in their church and a man of great wisdom and humor. He was pushing eighty, as was his wife, and their children were long gone. The rotation had brought the brunch to the Lusk home, a cramped and cluttered old house in bad need of a good sandblasting, at least in Theo’s opinion. His opinions, though, were not worth much during these insufferable meals.

  In the car, Mr. Boone said as he did every Sunday, “So, Theo, how did you like the sermon?”

  “It was boring and you know it,” Theo shot back, already mad again. “I fell asleep twice.”

  “It was not one of his better efforts,” Mrs. Boone agreed.

  They rode in silence to the Lusk home, the tension rising the closer they got. When they parked at the curb, Theo said, “I’ll just stay in the car. I’m not hungry.”

  “Let’s go, Theo,” his father said sternly. Theo slammed the door and followed his parents inside. He hated these brunches and his parents knew it. Fortunately, Theo could sense some weakness on the part of his mother, perhaps a twinge of sympathy. She knew how miserable he was, and she understood why.

  Inside, Theo managed a fake, metallic smile as he said hello to Mr. and Mrs. Garbowski, a pleasant couple about the same age as Theo’s parents whose sixteen-year-old son, Phil, threatened to run away from home if his parents forced him to go to brunch on Second Sundays. The Garbowskis caved in and Phil was still at home. Theo admired him greatly and was pondering the same strategy. He said hello to Mr. and Mrs. Salmon. He owned a lumber company and she taught at the college. They had three children, all older than Theo and none present.

  Just great, Theo mumbled to himself. Eight adults and me.

  Since nothing can make one hungrier than sitting in church and waiting for lunch, the group soon took their seats around the dining-room table. Judge Lusk gave a quick prayer of thanks, and a housekeeper appeared with the first course, a salad. A dry salad, Theo noted. Dressing wasn’t expensive, was it? Where was the dressing? But he dove in, starved.

  “What did you think of the sermon?” Judge Lusk asked. Since all four families attended the same church, the sermon was usually analyzed first. Great, thought Theo. Bad enough to suffer through it live and in color, now I get tortured again. Regardless of how bad a sermon might have been, no one, over brunch, ever suggested that it was anything short of brilliant. Even Pastor Pat had received rave reviews, though there had been some remarks like, “Perhaps he could’ve shaved off fifteen minutes.”

  The second course was baked chicken and gravy, and it was delicious. Theo, using perfect table manners because his mother was always watching, dug in and ate like a refugee. In her old age, Mrs. Lusk had stopped cooking, and this had been well received. Her housekeeper was an excellent cook. The Garbowskis would host the next Second Sunday, then the Boones. Theo’s mother made no pretense of preparing a fine meal and always had it catered by a Turkish woman who fixed amazing dishes.

  Much to Theo’s delight, the conversation turned to Pete Duffy and his adventures of the past week. This sparked lively comments around the table as everyone wanted to rush in with their opinions and reports of the latest rumors. The verdict was unanimous—everyone was convinced Duffy had murdered his wife—and his flight from justice was further proof of his guilt. Mr. Salmon claimed to know Pete well and was of the opinion that he had stashed away plenty of cash and would probably never be found. Judge Lusk disagreed and argued that Duffy’s close call at the airport in Chicago was proof that he would make another mistake sooner or later.

  Theo ate in silence and listened with interest. The conversation was usually about politics and what was happening in Washington, but this was far more interesting. Then he had a miserable thought. Would these people one day soon be talking about him? Had any of these people ever been charged with a crime? He had serious doubts about that. Were the Boones and their son already the topic of hushed conversations behind their backs?

  He cleaned his plate and waited on dessert. What he was really waiting on was two o’clock, the magic moment when it was time to go.

  Late Sunday afternoon, Theo rode his bike across town and met April at an ice-cream parlor near Stratten College. April got a frozen yogurt and Theo got his favorite—chocolate gelato covered in crushed Oreos, and they found a booth away from the other customers.

  “I talked to Rodney Tapscott,” she said in a low voice. “I went over to his house last night and watched television.”

  Theo took a large bite and said, “Okay, I’m listening.”

  “Well, without sounding suspicious, I managed to get around to Jonah Finn. Rodney knows that you and I are close friends, so I was careful not to seem too nosy. Rodney said that Jonah is a weird kid who’s been acting even stranger since his parents are divorcing, says he’s real moody, even angry. Jonah doesn’t have many friends. He bums money off of Rodney and other kids to buy lunch.
His grades are getting worse; the kid’s a wreck. He said that one day they were talking and Jonah said something about how much he dislikes your mother. I asked why was that. Rodney said it’s because their father blames your mother for most of their problems, said that she’s trying to make Jonah and his brother live with their mother, and they rea- lly don’t want to.”

  “I kinda figured that,” Theo said, glancing around.

  “He said Jonah’s father says bad things about your mother. All the money’s going for legal fees, and on top of that your mother is trying to get Jonah’s father to pay too much in child support and alimony. Rodney asked me if you’re a good guy, and, of course, I said yes.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Don’t mention it. Here’s the interesting part. Rodney’s never seen Jonah with a cell phone. Seventh graders are not supposed to have them at school anyway, but last week, he thinks it was Thursday, while they were on lunch break, Jonah showed him a new Excell SmartPhone. He said his father bought it for him. Rodney thought it was odd because the guy never has a dime.”

  “The store was broken into Tuesday night,” Theo said, ignoring his gelato.

  “That’s right. Do you know what was stolen?”

  “Just what was in the newspaper. Some laptops, tablets, cell phones, and a few other items.”

  “Excell SmartPhones?”

  “I have no idea. The police do not release that type of information.”

  “It gets better. On Friday, they were in the library and Jonah was studying in a cubicle, one of those on the second floor by the computer lab. He was at a desk, all hunched over, as if he was trying to hide whatever he was doing. Rodney saw him and was curious. He managed to ease behind him, and he saw Jonah playing a video game on an eight-inch screen tablet.”

  “The Linx 0-4 has an eight-inch screen.”

  “Exactly. And there’s no way Jonah can afford one.”

  Theo took a small bite but could taste nothing. “We have to get that tablet. Somehow.”

  “Any ideas?”

  “No, not right now. Do you think Rodney would help?”

  “I doubt it. He’s not the type of kid who’ll rat out a friend. He likes Jonah, says he’s strange and all, but he also feels sorry for the kid. I didn’t seem too interested in all of this because I didn’t want to appear too eager.”

  “This is good stuff, April.”

  “Can’t you just go to the police and tell them?”

  “Maybe, I don’t know. Let me think about it.”

  They discussed various plans, none of which seemed to work. As they were leaving, Theo thanked her again. April said she would do anything to help, legal or otherwise.

  Theo headed home, but suddenly changed direction and went to see Ike.

  Chapter 22

  Pursuant to instructions from Mrs. Gladwell, Theo arrived at her office at 8:15 sharp on Monday morning. He sat across from her desk as she flipped through a file. She had yet to smile, as if still ticked off about the fight. “How was your weekend?” she asked, without the slightest hint of real interest.

  “Okay, I guess,” Theo said. He was not there to talk about his weekend; they had other business. His weekend had been fairly lousy, and he now realized that his life would not return to normal until his good name was cleared. He was still the accused, which was a dark cloud hanging over his head.

  “Let’s change the entry code to your locker,” she said. This was why she wanted to meet early, before classes started. “Do you have a new code?”

  “Yes, ma’am. It’s 529937.” (Lawyer.)

  She wrote it down, then compared it to the other codes. “I guess this will work.”

  Theo cleared his throat and said, “Mrs. Gladwell, I would like to say again how sorry I am for what happened last Thursday, you know, the fight and all. I broke the rules and I apologize.”

  “I expect better behavior out of you, Theo. I’m really disappointed and I want you to avoid any more trouble.”

  “I will.”

  She closed the file and managed a slight smile. “Did you talk to the police over the weekend?” she asked.

  “No, ma’am.”

  “Have they finished their investigation?”

  “I don’t think so. As far as I know, they haven’t caught the right people.”

  “Do they still suspect you, Theo?”

  “As of last Friday, I was their main suspect.”

  She shook her head in disbelief.

  Theo thought about Ike’s advice, readjusted himself in the chair, cleared his throat, emitted an “Uh,” and gave the clear impression that what he was about to say was not easy. “Mrs. Gladwell, if you knew a student here, a seventh grader, had a cell phone on campus, what would you do?”

  She leaned back in her chair and chewed the end of her pen. “Well, I would talk to his or her homeroom teacher, ask her to approach the student, and if he or she had a phone, then we would confiscate it. The normal punishment is a half-day suspension, in school. Why do you ask this, Theo?”

  “Just curious.”

  “No, you’re not just curious. You know a seventh grader who brings a cell phone to school, don’t you, Theo?”

  “Maybe.”

  She stared at him for a long time, then began to figure it out. “Could this cell phone be stolen?” she asked.

  Theo nodded and said, “Could be. Not sure, but it could be.”

  “I see. And could this stolen phone be linked to the break-in at Big Mac’s last week?”

  Theo nodded slightly and said, “Could be. I don’t know for sure, and I’m not accusing anyone of the theft.”

  “The break-in is one thing, Theo, and it’s really none of my business. The police are in charge of that. But the possession of a cell phone by a seventh grader is a violation of the rules here, on my turf. Let’s deal with that first.”

  Theo stared at her but said nothing.

  Another long pause. Mrs. Gladwell waited, and waited. She finally looked at her watch and said, “Okay, if you want me to help you, give me the name. If not, it’s Monday morning and I have a thousand things to do.”

  “I feel like a snitch,” Theo said.

  “First of all, Theo, he or she will never know you told me. Second, and much more important, you’re the prime suspect in a crime that someone else committed. If I were you, I would do everything I could to find the real criminal. Now give me the name or go to homeroom.”

  Trying to appear reluctant, Theo said, “Jonah Finn.”

  Ike had said he had no choice but to deliver the criminal.

  The 8:50 bell rang for first period, and Mr. Krauthammer dismissed his seventh-grade homeroom. As the boys were filing out of the room, he took a few steps toward the desks, placed his hands on the shoulder of Jonah Finn, and said, “Could I see you a minute?”

  When the room was empty, Mr. Krauthammer closed the door, and said, “Did I see you with a cell phone in the hall about ten minutes ago?” He, in fact, did not, but this was part of the strategy.

  “No,” Jonah snapped. He took a step back and looked thoroughly guilty.

  “What’s in your pockets?” Mr. Krauthammer asked, stepping toward him.

  Jonah reluctantly removed a cell phone and handed it over. A half-day suspension would not bother him. He had seen worse. Mr. Krauthammer looked at the phone, an Excell 7 SmartPhone, and said, “Very nice. Come with me.”

  After a brief meeting with Mrs. Gladwell, Jonah was taken to a small study room in the library where he would be confined for the next four hours, under the watchful eyes of Mrs. Dunleavy, the librarian. His books were placed on a study table as if he were expected to plow through some extra homework as part of his punishment. Instead, Jonah put his head on the table and promptly went to sleep.

  Mrs. Gladwell called Detective Vorman and gave him the registration number of the cell phone.

  At Strattenburg High School, second period ended at 10:30 and was followed by a twenty-minute break. Tony Lambert, Woody’s brot
her, tracked Jessie Finn from a distance and watched as he left the main building and walked into the large open courtyard where many of the students killed time on break and during lunch. Jessie sat by himself at a picnic table and was about to check his cell phone when Tony came out of nowhere.

  “Hey, man, I hear you got some 0-4 Tablets for a good price,” Tony said, glancing around as if a drug deal was in process.

  Jessie eyed him suspiciously and said, “Who are you?”

  “Tony Lambert, tenth grade,” he replied, shoving a hand forward. Jessie shook it reluctantly and asked, “Oh yeah, where did you hear that?”

  “Word gets around. How much are you asking?”

  “For what?”

  “For an 0-4. I got fifty bucks.”

  “Who told you I was selling something?”

  “Come on, Jessie, word gets around. I really want that tablet.”

  “I don’t have anything, man. I’ve already sold it.”

  “Can you get another one?”

  “Maybe, but the price has gone up. Seventy-five bucks.”

  “I can get seventy-five. When can you get the tablet?”

  “Here, tomorrow. Same time, same place.”

  “You got it.”

  They shook hands and Tony left. He walked inside the main building and sent a text to Woody. No deal, maybe tomorrow.

  Theo’s Monday morning had been uneventful. During homeroom, Mr. Mount made a big deal out of welcoming him and Woody back to school, and there were some smart comments from his classmates. Most, though, seemed to be proud of their two buddies for not being afraid to take a stand. In first period Spanish, Madame Monique asked Theo how he was doing and seemed a little too concerned about him. He brushed it off and said everything was fine. In second period Geometry, Mrs. Garman acted as though nothing had happened, which suited Theo just fine. During the morning break, April informed Theo that Rodney had passed along the news that Jonah Finn had been in homeroom, but then disappeared. Rodney did not know where he was.

  While Jonah was napping in the library study room, Detective Vorman arrived at the school and met with Mrs. Gladwell. The two of them casually walked to a row of seventh-grade lockers, not far from Theo’s, and she punched in the code for Jonah’s. Inside they found the usual assortment of textbooks, notebooks, supplies, and junk. Hidden in a three-ring binder were two brand-new Linx 0-4 Tablets. They took them back to her office where Detective Vorman, using rubber gloves, removed the back panels and wrote down the registration numbers. They then returned to Jonah’s locker and carefully replaced the tablets in the three-ring binder.

  Detective Vorman thanked Mrs. Gladwell, left the school, and went to his desk at the police station where he checked the registration numbers against the list from Big Mac’s System. Not surprisingly, they matched. He reported his findings to Detective Hamilton, and they decided to get a search warrant for the Finn home. Vorman filled in the blanks of a standard affidavit, a sworn written statement, and set forth the details of what he had found. He also included a statement that the subject’s brother, Jessie Finn, had “allegedly” attempted to sell a Linx 0-4 Tablet to a classmate the previous week. Once the affidavit was completed and signed by Detective Vorman, he prepared a two-page search warrant in which he described the area he wished to search—the Finn home and its outbuildings. With his paperwork done, he walked four blocks down Main Street to the courthouse and left the affidavit and search warrant with the secretary for Judge Daniel Showalter, Youth Court, Division 1. The secretary informed him that the judge was in the middle of a hearing, and it might be two hours before he could review the affidavit and search warrant.

  Detective Vorman walked back to his office, confident he had solved another crime, though a rather small one. He would have preferred to spend his time chasing drug dealers and serious criminals.

  Chapter 23

  At 3:15 Monday afternoon, Detective Vorman arrived at the school and went to Mrs. Gladwell’s office. He waited as she walked to a classroom on the second floor and pulled Jonah Finn out of last period study hall. Jonah, who had already endured a half-day suspension, mumbled, “What’s the matter now?” as he followed her from the room.

  “Just follow me,” she said, and the two walked without a word back to her office. They waited in the reception area by Miss Gloria’s desk as the last bell rang and the students rushed out of the building. During the chaos of dismissal, Jonah and Mrs. Gladwell stepped into her office and closed the door. Vorman stood, flashed a badge, and said, “Are you Jonah Finn?”

  He replied, “Yes.” He looked at Mrs. Gladwell for help.

  “Have a seat,” Vorman said. “I’d like to ask you some questions.”

  “Is something wrong?”

  “Maybe.”

  Jonah sat down and put his backpack in his lap. He was obviously frightened and not sure what to do or say.

  Vorman sat on the edge of the desk and looked down at Jonah. It was not a fair fight. A tough cop in a dark suit and a frightful scowl glaring down at a scared, skinny kid with bangs in his eyes. Vorman knew exactly where the conversation was going; Jonah wasn’t so sure.

  The detective began: “We’re investigating a burglary that happened last week at a computer store downtown, Big Mac’s Systems, and I just have a few routine questions. That’s all.”

  Jonah took a deep breath, almost gasped, and dropped his head. He stared at the floor, his mouth open in shock. Vorman had never seen a guiltier face. “That