that some germs have tails.
“I think it’s one of those alien bugs,” I whisper.
Patsy Cline seems very worried after I tell her this and says, “Don’t think a thing about All-Star Kids. You have to stay home with your mom, Penelope. So she can get better lickety-split.”
I tell her that I know she will. And after I hang up, a strange thing happens. My nose does some twitching. I put my hand over my nose to make sure it didn’t grow any just now. Then I say out loud, “It’s not like Patsy Cline needs me there at the auditions with her or anything. She’s sung without me plenty of times. Besides, she’s got her mom. Which means she’s not all by herself like me.”
I pack up my toolbox, roll up my posters, and tell Terrible that I’m going to the library. I tell him this while he’s in the bathroom, while the water’s running. And I say it in a whisper from the kitchen.
It’s not my fault if he doesn’t hear me.
After three blocks, I slow down a little and stop looking behind me for Terrible. I pat my shirt pocket to make sure I still have Littie’s metro card. Which I forgot to give back to her yesterday, thank lucky stars. Going on the metro is a little scary without Littie, but detectives have to be brave, especially when they are without their assistants.
Outside of the Simmons metro station I get outmy scissors and tape from my toolbox and fix a couple of posters to telephone poles. Then I head toward the neighborhood where I think Francesca and Mr. Jiggs live. Along the way, I put up more posters: on street signs, parking meters, and lampposts. But when I tape a poster to the side of a big mailbox in front of the Simmons post office, I find trouble.
“Just what do you think you’re doing, girlie?” says a man with long sideburns that point like arrows to his mouth.
“Looking for someone,” I say, pressing the tape on the corner of the poster.
“Look, you can’t put that there,” he says. “You’re going to have to take that off right now.”
“How come?”
“This here mailbox is government property,” he says, “and you ain’t allowed to put stuff on it.”
“Says who?” I say. “There’s no sign that says no posters allowed.”
“Says me,” he says. “I work here, so I should know something about it.”
“You work here?” I say. “You’re a mailman?”
“Not today, I’m not. It’s Sunday.” He nods at my poster. “You gonna take that off of there or what?”
I pull at the tape on the top of the poster. “Hey, if you’re a mailman, I bet you know the names of all kinds of people in town.”
“Some,” he says.
“Did you ever deliver mail to a Felix Crumb?”
“Nope.”
“Now, you answered way too fast. Why don’t you think about it for a minute?” I hold the poster right in front of his face. “Felix Crumb, and here’s what he looks like. Only his nose might be a little bigger now.”
The man pushes the poster away. “I
said
nope.”
Well then. I roll up the poster and shove it under my armpit. After he drops some letters into the mailbox, I follow him down the street. I keep close so I don’t lose him if he decides to make a sharp turn down an alley or dive into a manhole. But all of a sudden when my eyeballs wander over to a giant sock monkey in the window of a toy store, theman stops to tie his shoelaces. And I run right into the back of him, dropping my poster.
“Are you still
here
?” he says.
“Yep.” I pick up my poster. “Do you want to see his picture again?”
“Girlie, don’t you have something better to do than trail me?”
“Nope,” I say.
He sighs. “What’s the name you’re looking for again?”
“Felix Crumb.” I say it slow so that it has a chance to really sink into his brains.
“And what makes you think he lives around here?” he asks.
“Because my mom said he used to.”
“When?”
I shrug. “The other day.”
He gives me a big eyeball roll. “I mean, when did he live here?”
“Oh,
“I think it’s one of those alien bugs,” I whisper.
Patsy Cline seems very worried after I tell her this and says, “Don’t think a thing about All-Star Kids. You have to stay home with your mom, Penelope. So she can get better lickety-split.”
I tell her that I know she will. And after I hang up, a strange thing happens. My nose does some twitching. I put my hand over my nose to make sure it didn’t grow any just now. Then I say out loud, “It’s not like Patsy Cline needs me there at the auditions with her or anything. She’s sung without me plenty of times. Besides, she’s got her mom. Which means she’s not all by herself like me.”
I pack up my toolbox, roll up my posters, and tell Terrible that I’m going to the library. I tell him this while he’s in the bathroom, while the water’s running. And I say it in a whisper from the kitchen.
It’s not my fault if he doesn’t hear me.
After three blocks, I slow down a little and stop looking behind me for Terrible. I pat my shirt pocket to make sure I still have Littie’s metro card. Which I forgot to give back to her yesterday, thank lucky stars. Going on the metro is a little scary without Littie, but detectives have to be brave, especially when they are without their assistants.
Outside of the Simmons metro station I get outmy scissors and tape from my toolbox and fix a couple of posters to telephone poles. Then I head toward the neighborhood where I think Francesca and Mr. Jiggs live. Along the way, I put up more posters: on street signs, parking meters, and lampposts. But when I tape a poster to the side of a big mailbox in front of the Simmons post office, I find trouble.
“Just what do you think you’re doing, girlie?” says a man with long sideburns that point like arrows to his mouth.
“Looking for someone,” I say, pressing the tape on the corner of the poster.
“Look, you can’t put that there,” he says. “You’re going to have to take that off right now.”
“How come?”
“This here mailbox is government property,” he says, “and you ain’t allowed to put stuff on it.”
“Says who?” I say. “There’s no sign that says no posters allowed.”
“Says me,” he says. “I work here, so I should know something about it.”
“You work here?” I say. “You’re a mailman?”
“Not today, I’m not. It’s Sunday.” He nods at my poster. “You gonna take that off of there or what?”
I pull at the tape on the top of the poster. “Hey, if you’re a mailman, I bet you know the names of all kinds of people in town.”
“Some,” he says.
“Did you ever deliver mail to a Felix Crumb?”
“Nope.”
“Now, you answered way too fast. Why don’t you think about it for a minute?” I hold the poster right in front of his face. “Felix Crumb, and here’s what he looks like. Only his nose might be a little bigger now.”
The man pushes the poster away. “I
said
nope.”
Well then. I roll up the poster and shove it under my armpit. After he drops some letters into the mailbox, I follow him down the street. I keep close so I don’t lose him if he decides to make a sharp turn down an alley or dive into a manhole. But all of a sudden when my eyeballs wander over to a giant sock monkey in the window of a toy store, theman stops to tie his shoelaces. And I run right into the back of him, dropping my poster.
“Are you still
here
?” he says.
“Yep.” I pick up my poster. “Do you want to see his picture again?”
“Girlie, don’t you have something better to do than trail me?”
“Nope,” I say.
He sighs. “What’s the name you’re looking for again?”
“Felix Crumb.” I say it slow so that it has a chance to really sink into his brains.
“And what makes you think he lives around here?” he asks.
“Because my mom said he used to.”
“When?”
I shrug. “The other day.”
He gives me a big eyeball roll. “I mean, when did he live here?”
“Oh,
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