“I’ve got to get home.” Jack started for the hal . “We’ve stil got a ways to go.”
“Uh-huh.” He seemed to be only half listening.
“See ya,” he said and headed for the door.
When he reached the hal way he looked back and saw Mr. B pul a key ring from his pocket and lock the humidor in the liquor cabinet.
What was in that little box that needed to be locked up?
He suspects something, Jack thought as trotted toward home.
He’d have to be careful.
He was a block away when he realized he’d just missed a perfect opportunity to
expose Steve’s problem. He could have said something to his father,
something like,
down to check on him. Or at least he thought so. He knew his own dad would be downstairs in a flash. But the terror of almost getting caught had
blanked his mind.
Which meant the Steve problem remained. Jack had done nothing to solve it. He’d think of something. And soon.
Night was fal ing by the time he reached his house. He noticed that Tom’s car
was gone, but that didn’t mean he hadn’t left a little surprise for Jack. He waved to his parents as they watched
Dad’s favorite by a long shot, but Mom loved it—Jack had even heard her humming the theme music now and again.
“That was a quick trip,” Dad said.
“Yeah, wel , Steve wasn’t in the mood.”
He laughed. “You guys better get cranking. Once you start high school you’re not
going to have much spare time.”
It occurred to Jack that tonight might have been a good time to try his new
lock-picking skil s on Dad’s lockbox, but things had turned hectic at USED and he’d forgotten to bring home the picks. Maybe tomorrow. Anyway, he wasn’t
in a lock-picking mood.
Like last night, he checked his bedroom door for booby traps. Finding none, he
stepped inside, turned on the light, and looked around. Unlike last night, he had no sense that the room had changed. Everything seemed just as he’d left
it.
Then he remembered the Xeroxes of the tracings Weezy had given him for
safekeeping. He’d stuck them in the top drawer of his desk before running off to USED this afternoon. He’d been running late and hadn’t hidden them as
he’d promised.
He quick-stepped to his desk and yanked open the drawer. Relief—stil there.
Then he wondered why he was relieved. Why would they be anywhere but where he’d left them?
But he’d promised to hide them, and his top drawer wasn’t exactly hidden. Had
to find a safer spot.
Safer …
Listen to me, he thought. I’m starting to think like Weezy.
As he began looking around for a hiding place, he noticed his open window. He
checked the screen—stil latched as he’d left it last night. Wel , of
course it would be. Who besides Tom would have any reason to want to sneak
into his room.
Stil …
He turned out the bedroom light, then pul ed out the bottom drawer of his
dresser and dropped the papers into the space beneath. Then he replaced the drawer. Not the safest hiding place in the world, but the best he could come up
with on such short notice.
As he stepped toward the light switch by the door he remembered Weezy’s
