The Mystery of the Stolen Books

©2006 Keith Robinson

The Five Find-Outers and Dog are home for the holidays again. When Peterswood library is broken into, the gang are soon on the trail... much to Mr Goon's annoyance. Fatty and his friends find only one clue: a footprint on the windowsill where the burglar smashed a window and climbed in. Why anyone should risk breaking into a library to steal a few books is a mystery—so it's even more puzzling when the stolen books are found dumped in an old school field. Meanwhile, Mr Goon is investigating another break-in, this one at an office building in town. Valuable coins have been stolen out of a safe. Two burglaries in one night! Can they be connected somehow?

This is a completed novel which I sent to Egmont (the current publishers of the Find-Outer series) for consideration. They returned my synopsis with a hand-written note in the bottom corner saying simply, "I am sorry, I must pass." So I thought I'd make the story available here. I hope you enjoy it!

Chapter 17: Superintendent Jenks arrives

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Fatty rubbed his hands and returned to lobby, where the others stood confused but excited. Larry demanded to know what was going on, but Fatty just grinned and shook his head.

"You'll find out soon enough," he said, "but I need to check something before Superintendent Jenks gets here. Come with me, all of you."

Even the caretaker looked confused. He watched as the Find-Outers headed for the staircase, and then called out to them. "'Ere, what's going on? I don't want a lot of kids running about the place! Just stay down here until the police arrive—although why you called them I don't know."

"I need to have a look in the attic," said Fatty. "I want to check something before they arrive, to make sure I'm right."

"You want to get into the attic?" the caretaker said, startled. He started shaking his head. "Now, look—"

"The police are on their way, and it's important," said Fatty firmly.

But the caretaker was having none of it. "Then we'll just have to wait until they get here. You wait right here for them. This is an office building, you know—there are people working!"

Exasperated, Fatty and the others returned to the lobby and waited under the watchful eye of the caretaker, who stood leaning against the wall with his arms folded across his chest. His white hair seemed to stick out more when he was cross.

"Do tell us what's going on," Bets pleaded Fatty. "We have time while we're waiting for the police!"

"Not right now," Fatty said, glancing towards the caretaker. "And besides, you have all the same clues I have. Work it out for yourselves!" And once again he grinned at his friends' frustrated expressions.

After what seemed an age, a huge police car pulled up—and then another. Superintendent Jenks stepped out onto the pavement, and Fatty went to greet him amidst a volley of excited barks from Buster, who was still tied to the lamppost.

"Sir, thanks for coming," he said, glancing about. "And I see Mr Johnson is here too. Good. I wanted to ask him something."

"Goon is on his way," said Superintendent Jenks, standing with his hands behind his back and a bemused look on his face. "I trust you've some interesting information for me, Frederick. I brought along a few men, just in case. Knowing you, you know exactly who Carl's accomplice was and where the coins are."

Fatty suddenly felt embarrassed. "Ah. Well, I know who did it, and how it was done...but I don't know where the coins are, I'm afraid."

"Well, let's see what's what," said the superintendent, and stepped through into the lobby. Larry, Pip, Daisy and Bets nodded and smiled, but refrained from crowding him as they normally did. After all, the superintendent was here on very important business.

Three other policemen followed him in, bringing with them Mr Johnson, who looked dishevelled and tired. They all stopped in the middle of the lobby, and the caretaker stood to attention as if he were in the army.

"Frederick?" the superintendent said with a raised eyebrow.

"Er, just waiting for Mr Fisher, sir," said Fatty. "But while we're waiting, we'll need to make sure we have a key to Mr Johnson's office. I don't know if Mr Johnson has his office key with him, after being in a police cell, but if not the caretaker will have a spare."

"His personal effects are right here," said one of the officers, holding up a small envelope. He fished inside and found a small bunch of keys, and Mr Johnson nodded to confirm his office key was one of them.

Buster started barking again, and Fatty smiled to himself. That was Buster's special bark that he reserved for pompous policemen. Sure enough Mr Goon burst in through the door at that moment, looking red-faced and extremely angry.

"What's the meaning of this?" he demanded. He glanced around the group, then cleared his throat and spoke to the superintendent. "Er, sir, I thought this had all been cleared up. It was an open and shut case, sir. We have both men involved, and we have only to find the coins and return them to Mr Fisher."

"Well, let's hope you're right, Goon," said the superintendent with a hard edge to his voice. "Are you sure you don't want to think a little on this? Perhaps revise your report?"

Mr Goon, breathing hard, turned slowly and stared at Fatty with such malice the boy felt like stepping backwards out of range. Mr Goon turned slowly back to the superintendent and gritted his teeth. "I only know what I know, sir. I'm positive Carl Westlake broke in, sir, and I'm fairly certain Mr Johnson here arranged the whole thing."

"Fairly certain, Mr Goon?" said the superintendent, looking surprised. "So you're not as sure as you were earlier today?"

Another car pulled up outside, a large gold Rolls Royce, and a chauffeur got out and opened the rear door. Out stepped who Fatty guessed must be Mr James Fisher, a large, red-faced man rather like Mr Goon. He strode in through the door without a single word to his chauffeur.

Inside, he put his hands on his hips and glared around the group. "This had better be good. Wasting my afternoon when I should be working. What's the meaning of this? You have the culprits, don't you? So unless you've found my coins, I'm not really interested in playing games."

Superintendent Jenks stepped forward and introduced himself, then the others in turn. "You know Mr Goon already, I presume, and of course you know Mr Johnson."

"Yes—the bounder!" roared Mr Fisher suddenly. Bets crept behind Fatty's back. "I've a good mind to thrash him until he—"

"Now, now," the superintendent said calmly, holding up his hands. "I think you're about to find out that Mr Johnson is innocent of any crime."

"Pah!" snorted Mr Goon.

They all trooped upstairs, a very strange group consisting of five policemen, five children, a caretaker, an office worker, and a very red-faced rich man.

They gathered outside Mr Johnson's office, and the policeman with the coin appraiser's personal effects unlocked the door. They all marched inside and suddenly the room seemed very crowded.

Fatty frowned. "I need to ask Mr Masters something, too." He turned to one of the officers. "Would you mind fetching him in here? He's just next door."

The policeman, looking amused, nodded and left the room.

Fatty looked about and cleared his throat. "Well, we all know that Carl Westlake did the dirty work. There's no question about that. He was telephoned by someone a little cleverer than him, and given the combination number to the safe. Unfortunately, he wrote the combination number on the back of his son's library book—who returned that book to the library shortly afterwards!"

"Hence the break in at the library," said the superintendent, nodding. "Ah, this must be Mr Masters. Come on in. Join the party."

Ted Masters looked surprised at the amount of people gathered in his colleague's office, but smiled at Mr Johnson when he realised he was there too. He also smiled at James Fisher, whom he seemed to recognise. Mr Fisher gave a curt nod.

"Yes," said Fatty, "When Carl realised the combination he'd written down was sitting on a bookshelf at the library, he panicked. The job was on that night! He couldn't wait until the morning to retrieve that book, so he headed straight to the library that afternoon—but got there too late to have a good look around. So he did the next best thing—he went out the back door and made sure to check if there were any deadbolts."

"Which there were," said Pip. "So instead of messing about at one o'clock in the morning, he just smashed the big window and got in that way."

Fatty nodded. "Right. He quickly scooped every crime book he could find off the shelf into a bag and got out of there. He went to the old school field and searched through the books quickly and quietly. When he found the book he'd written on, he snatched off the dust jacket and scarpered."

"We know all this," said Mr Goon. "We found the dust jacket in his house, along with a woolly hat with a tear in the front, and shoes with soles that matched the footprints we found at both crime scenes."

Fatty nodded again. "So the question is—who phoned Carl with the combination number?"

Mr Goon scowled. "Mr Johnson here said himself he was the only one who knew it."

"It's true," Mr Johnson said, nodding rapidly. "I don't care if it gets me into trouble saying this, but no one could have known that number but me. I memorised it."

"And yet," said Fatty mysteriously, "someone knew it—and contacted Carl from a public phone box to tell him what it was. That someone also knew the coins were in the safe, and that they'd only be there one night."

Now Fatty looked about, relishing the rapt attention. "I wanted to ask Mr Masters something. Mr Masters—what time have you been leaving the office lately? Say in the last couple of weeks?"

Ted Masters jumped, looking startled. "Er...why?"

"Because I'm confused," said Fatty. He turned to Mr Johnson. "Why don't you answer that question, Mr Johnson. What time has Mr Masters been leaving the office, as far as you know?"

Mr Johnson looked about, and when the superintendent nodded, he said, "Around half past four. He used to leave after me, working late into the evening, but in the last couple of weeks he's been leaving early. I've heard him locking his door, and sometimes he knocks on mine and says goodnight. And sometimes I forget he's already left and go to see him about something, and then wonder why there's no answer when I knock on his door!"

"All right," said Fatty, nodding. "Half past four. Would you agree with that, Mr Masters?"

"Of course," said the tanned man, grinning a bright white smile. "Is there a law against leaving early?"

"Er..."

Everyone turned in unison to the caretaker, who stood with one finger raised.

"Er," he said again, "I beg to differ, sirs, but I'm not sure that's right. I've seen Mr Masters leaving five or ten minutes after five every night for the last couple of weeks. I watch him walk through the lobby and out the doors, along with most other workers. I'm usually standing right there in the lobby, sweeping the floor. I sweep the floor twice a day; I mop it in the morning, then sweep it after lunch and again—"

"Thank you," said Fatty. "So, Mr Masters—which is it? Half past four, or ten past five?"

"What difference does it make?" he said, scowling suddenly. "What's it got to do with anything?"

Superintendent Jenks had an amused expression on his face as he said, "I'm sure Frederick is getting to that."

"Right, sir," said Fatty. "And now I need to ask the caretaker to allow a policeman access to the attic. I don't know what's up there, but I'm sure the caretaker knows."

The caretaker looked astonished. "There's nothing up there but water tanks, pipes, and a few boxes."

"Is it one large attic, running the length of the building?" asked Fatty. "I'm guessing it is, since there only seems to be one hatchway. I noticed it at the top of the staircase."

The caretaker shook his head. "Actually there's another at the far end, over the emergency stairs. But it's one large attic, yes. Why?"

Fatty turned to one of the policemen. "I wonder if you'd be good enough to go up there and make your way over so you're standing above this office?"

The policeman glanced at the superintendent, got a nod of approval, and went off with the caretaker. While they were gone, Fatty stared at Ted Masters. "It was you, wasn't it? You knew Mr Johnson dealt in valuable coins. You knew he had a safe in here, because all the offices have them—so it's a pretty sure bet that coins are going to be locked up in it once in a while. You know Mr Johnson pretty well, I should think, and over time have slowly gleaned from him how often valuable coins are brought in, and how long it takes to study them to find out how much they're worth. You knew, then, that coins are often locked in the safe overnight—and that most times they're only in there for one night, because Mr Johnson's done with them by the following day."

Fatty paused for breath, and the room was silent. Everyone turned to stare at the accountant.

"What are you talking about, you stupid boy?" he snapped.

"No, this is all true," said Mr Johnson quietly. "Ted—tell me you know nothing about all this. Tell me you didn't somehow obtain my safe combination and give it to that Westlake fellow."

Ted spread his hands. "How could I?"

"Yes—how could he?" Mr Goon demanded, glaring at Fatty.

Fatty smiled. "It's really quite simple..."

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