“What’s that?”
“Stand around making nasty comments while you preen and molt!”
Instantly commercials started playing on Pete’s car radio. Bob started singing along, and Jupe started grumbling from the back seat. “Al Windsor? That’s the guy who’s teaching my college speech class. Lose him! Let’s listen to the news.” He ruffled feathers on the Shoremont parrot costume next to him.
“Come on, Jupe, this is my favorite call-in show,” Pete said. “And anyway, we’ll be at the Shoremont gym in a minute.”
“Okay,” said Al Windsor, coming back on the air, “I’ve got Sam on the line from Hermosa Beach. How ya doin’, Sam? Let’s Talk Sports.”
“Hi, Al. I’m doing fine,” said the caller. “Listen, Al, I wanted to ask you about the Shoremont-Costa Verde basketball game tonight.”
“Big game, a must-win situation for both teams,” Al Windsor commented.
“Yeah, I know,” the caller said. “But did you see the paper this morning? I mean, the Costa Verde coach — Bernie Mehl — was really laying into Shoremont’s Coach Duggan.”
“Yeah, I saw that,” Al Windsor answered. “You’re talking about the big headline where Bernie Mehl said, and I quote, ‘Coach Duggan will do anything to win — and I mean
“Well, Sam, I can’t crawl into Bernie Mehl’s head,” Al Windsor said. “But it doesn’t take a genius to figure out he’s bringing up those ugly rumors again — the ones about Coach Duggan paying his players a few years ago. It was a big scandal back in Boston, but nobody ever proved anything. And Duggan has been one terrific coach. My guess is, Bernie’s just trying to stir up a little trouble. We’ll see if he gets it tonight.”
Pete slapped the dashboard with his right hand and the radio snapped off. “Hey, Jupe, this is getting intense. Do you think Bernie Mehl is right about Duggan? Maybe Mehl knows more than he’s saying.”
“I’m not sure,” Jupe said. “But I did a little research on the Boston scandal today. From the newspaper accounts, it sounds like
“Okay,” Pete said. “But I’ve been to Shoremont-Costa Verde games before. They’re always grudge matches to the death. You be careful, too.”
“Pete’s right,” Bob said. “This may not be the best game for your parrot debut. Are you sure you want to go through with this?”
“Oh, fine time to be worried about my safety,” Jupe said. “No, they want a parrot. And I’m prepared to give them one they’ll never forget,” he added mysteriously. “Just watch me.”
Pete pulled into the three-story concrete garage behind Shoremont’s gym. He wound around the ramps to the top level, and Jupe climbed out of the car.
“See you guys after the game,” Jupe said. He wrapped his arms around the bulky bird costume and carried it over to the elevator.
A few minutes later, alone in a small room reserved for the parrot, Jupe began to dress. Outside in the gym, marching bands were playing and cheerleaders were stirring up the crowd.
“Shoremont!” half the crowd shouted.
“Costa Verde!” the other half shouted back.
Jupe listened to the crowd as he connected wires and put in fresh batteries and then attached a small microphone to his T-shirt neck. Then he put on the costume over his T-shirt and jeans.
“Testing one, two, three,” Jupe said into the microphone. His voice came out of little speakers in his wings. It worked!
Finally Jupe slipped the parrot head on, fastening it with Velcro patches to the body of the costume. This was definitely one of the weirdest things he had ever done in his long history of crimebusting. But Jupe didn’t care. He felt invulnerable in the costume as he left the locker room and walked onto the gymnasium floor.
A cheer went up the moment the Shoremont fans saw the parrot. Jupe could see them all watching him, waiting to see what kind of acrobatics he would do.
Sweat began to bead on his forehead. Could he really go through with his plan? He paused on the sidelines, not sure how to begin. Meanwhile both teams were warming up on the court.
Finally Jupe took a deep breath and ran out into the center of the gym floor. The crowd cheered.
“Uh — oh! Uh — oh!” Jupe called out in a harsh parrot’s voice. “You lose! You lose!” He jumped around and pointed to the Costa Verde players, who stopped taking practice shots to see who was making that sound.
“Give up! Quit now!” Jupe the parrot cried in a shrill voice. “Quit now! You lose!”
The Shoremont crowd started laughing and cheering. A moment later they picked up Jupe’s cry.
“
But no one else wanted to ignore him. They loved him! Jupe jumped around some more, feeling bolder. Whatever the parrot said, the crowd echoed it. Jupe was leading more cheers than the cheerleaders!
When the game started, Jupe had to stay on the sidelines. But that didn’t stop him from shouting his comments into the game.
“Uh — oh! Watch out! You lose, number 32! You couldn’t even slam-dunk a donut!”
The crowd roared with laughter.
“Hey, number 52! Give up! Give up! Babies dribble better than you!”
Nora, the captain of the Shoremont cheerleaders, pulled Jupe aside.
“Be careful, Jupe,” she said. “The Costa Verde players are giving you some mean looks.”
“Who cares?” Jupe said. The show-off in him couldn’t seem to stop. Every time a Costa Verde player missed a shot, Jupe would jump up and yell “Bird-brain! Uh — oh! Birdbrain!”
At the end of the game the score was Shoremont 64 — Costa Verde 60, but Jupe felt like the real winner. All the cheerleaders rushed over to thank him. Sarah, with the short dark hair, gave him the biggest smile. Jupe was practically floating!
Jupe quickly changed out of his costume and hurried to meet Bob and Pete in the garage. He stepped off the elevator and saw them standing by someone else’s car.
Pete’s probably forgotten where he parked, Jupe laughed to himself.
“Hey, you guys,” Jupe called. “Did you hear me tonight? I’d have to say that an appropriate description would be ‘devastatingly funny’ ”
“Yeah, we heard everything you said.”
Jupe froze. That wasn’t Pete and Bob. It was two Costa Verde players!
The two guys came at Jupe fast. There was nowhere to run — and no one around to hear him yell.
One guy grabbed Jupe, pinning his arms behind his back. The parrot costume fell to the concrete floor. The other guy grabbed Jupe’s face and twisted his head around sideways. When Jupe cried out, the guy stuffed dirty sweat socks into Jupe’s mouth.
The damp cotton smelled terrible and tasted worse Jupe thought he was going to gag or throw up — and then choke on his own vomit.
“Now what do you have to say, Mr. Parrot?”
In the light of the garage Jupe saw that these guys were numbers 32 and 52 — the Costa Verde basketball players he’d made fun of the most.
Jupe tried to scuffle with them, but they were too strong. They pushed and dragged him toward a low wall at the edge of the garage. “Let’s hear you smart off now!” number 52 taunted Jupe. Then in one quick, terrifying move, they hoisted Jupe up and shoved him over the wall!
Suddenly Jupe was dangling in midair, held by his legs, looking down at the street three stories below. His arms flailed but nothing came out of his mouth except muffled screams.
I’m going to die, Jupe thought. They’re going to drop me on my head — splat. That’s it. I’m dead. Any minute now, I’m dead.
“Come on — say something funny! Who’s the bird-brain now?” number 52 said with a laugh.
Finally, after what seemed like hours, the two guys slowly pulled Jupe back up. They dropped him on the floor and walked away.
“
That’s all that Jupe needed. He leaped at number 32, giving him a judo chop on the back of his neck.
“Behind you, Pete!” Jupe shouted.
The first guy had picked himself up and was sneaking up on Pete. But suddenly, to Jupe’s surprise, Bob came flying from the top of a car and tackled the guy from the side.
When the Costa Verde players saw that it was three against two, they decided to call it quits. They ran down the garage ramp and disappeared.
“You okay, Jupe?” Bob asked. Jupe was bent over, his hands on his knees, trying to catch his breath.
Jupe nodded and wiped his wet forehead on his sleeve. “They were just telling me what a great job I did as the parrot.”
“Let’s get out of here,” Pete said, helping Jupe to the car.
Pete opened the driver’s side door of the Ark and started to get in. “Hey, look at this!”
There on the leather seat was an envelope.
“Don’t touch it,” Jupe said. “Fingerprints.”
“I gotta find out what’s in it,” Pete said, reaching into the glove compartment. He pulled on a pair of driving gloves to open the envelope.
“More money,” said Bob, seeing the cash in Pete’s hands.
“And another note,” said Pete. He unfolded it and Jupe read it aloud.
“Play for Shoremont next fall and you will enjoy the sweetness and the rewards of victory!”
Jupe pushed away his half-eaten bowl of cereal and began eating half a sticky bun. “I don’t find
“But what’s even more irritating is that we’re making no progress on the case. Last night I went over the note and the money we found in your car with everything but an electron microscope. Effort — one hundred percent. Results: zip. I didn’t find one clue as to who sent it to you.
“Our next move is to investigate the typewriter in Duggan’s office to see if the typeface matches the two notes you’ve gotten. But right now all we’re sure of is that somebody knew you were at the game and knows what your car looks like.”
Pete leaned farther back in his chair and wiped his mouth. “I can finish a whole bowl of cereal in the time it takes you to answer a question,” he said, smiling.
Jupe frowned at the criticism. “Just what is it you like so much about this case?”
“I liked the look on the bank teller’s face when I deposited the three thousand dollars last Monday. Today when I deposit a thousand more, she’s really going to flip.” Pete popped the unsliced remainder of the banana into his mouth.
“Well, don’t get used to it,” said Jupe, cutting a cheese danish in half. “You’re going to have to give the money back.”
“Jupe.” Pete suddenly focused on all the half-eaten food spread out in front of his well-padded friend. “I really don’t think your diet is going to work.”
“It’s working — slowly,” Jupe insisted. “I’ve lost half a pound in the past two weeks.”
“You probably
Jupe shuddered, and his stomach turned over. The picture of him dangling over the edge of the parking garage was still crystal clear in his mind. “If I hadn’t been so overwhelmed, I would have fought harder myself. You and Bob arrived at the right — ” He was interrupted by the telephone. “I got it!” Pete shouted to his mom in the other room. He picked up the cordless phone in his kitchen. “Hello... Yeah, this is him.”
“This is
“Yeah, I sure did,” Pete said, snapping his fingers to get Jupe’s attention. Pete’s voice dropped. “I got the note and the money last night... Yeah?”
It was driving Jupe crazy hearing only half the conversation.
“Yeah, okay, sure,” Pete said. “I’d like to meet you, too. Where and when?”
Pete listened some more, nodding, and Jupe held his breath.
“Yeah, I know where that is,” Pete said. “In an hour?”
Jupe shook his head no and waved two fingers at Pete.
“How about two hours?” Pete asked. “Okay, I’ll be there.”
“Was it Duggan?” Jupe asked as soon as Pete had hung up.
“I don’t know,” Pete said. His face was angry and scared at the same time. “Sometimes it sounded like him and sometimes it didn’t. He was real friendly, Jupe. The piece of scum is breaking every law that means anything in college sports and he acts like we’re buddies.”
“That’s perfect,” Jupe said. “It means he thinks you’re playing along with him. Now tell me everything he said.”
“He asked if I got his envelope last night, and he said there was plenty more where that came from if I played ball with him. Some joke.”
“Then what?”
“He said he thought it was time we meet and talk about my future, and then he set the place — ten minutes north of here on the Coast Highway. Why’d you want me to make it two hours?”
“Because the microphone I used in the parrot costume is a wireless mike. If I hook it up to a portable transmitter — ”
“You can wire me for sound and hear everything that goes on!” Pete finished. “That’s great.”
“Let’s get over to the workshop and hook you up,” Jupe said.
Two hours later Pete turned off the Pacific Coast Highway at a scenic overlook. He talked the whole time he pulled into the parking lot, giving a full description for Jupe’s benefit. Jupe was squeezed into the trunk of the big Cadillac with a radio receiver tuned to the same frequency Pete was broadcasting on. The trunk lid was tied to look like it wouldn’t stay closed. In fact, it was tied that way so Jupe could get some air.
“Jupe, I hope you can hear me. Man, with this microphone and transmitter taped around my chest, I feel like I can’t breathe. There are a couple of cars parked here. One’s a Porsche 911 Targa. It’s blue and it’s bad. There are a few people looking around. One guy’s standing by himself without a camera. I bet that’s our guy. He’s medium height. About thirty, maybe. Aviator shades. He’s wearing a blue business shirt with a tie. He’s got the sleeves rolled, and he’s looking right at me now. I’ll try to let him do most of the talking. I stopped the car. He’s coming this way. Here I go.”
Pete stepped out of the car, tossing his sunglasses on the seat behind him.
“Hi, Pete,” said the man, slipping off his sunglasses and holding his hand out. Pete shook it, noticing the man had blue eyes.
“You want to talk in the car or look at the scenery?” the man asked.
“Uh, outside,” Pete said,
“Fine,” said the man, putting his sunglasses back on and walking back toward the railing overlooking the Pacific Ocean. “Let me say a couple of things. First, we think you’ve got the potential to become quite a basketball player.”
“You’ve been talking to Coach Duggan?”
The man smiled. “Maybe the first thing I should have said was not to ask me any questions, Pete. I’m going to tell you everything I want you to know.”
Why’s this guy so calm? Pete wondered. I guess he’s done this a hundred times.