Read Online Riley Mack and the Other Known Troublemakers by Chris Grabenstein - Free Book Online Page B

driver.
    â€œI just have what they call a slight strabismus, on account of the fact that my two eyeballs are not properly aligned with each other. Got a little lack of coordination going on between the extraocular muscles is all.”
    â€œFred?” said the driver.
    â€œYeah, Otto?” said the passenger.
    â€œYour strabismus there means you’re cross-eyed, not buckeyed.”
    â€œOh. That true?”
    â€œYeah.”
    â€œSo why’s the newspaper calling me a buckeye bandit?”
    â€œOn account of the fact we knocked off that string of banks back in Ohio.”
    â€œSo?”
    â€œOhio is the Buckeye State.”
    â€œThey got a lot of cross-eyed people in Ohio?”
    â€œNo, Fred. Buckeye is their nickname. On account of the many buckeye trees that once grew there and whatnot.”
    â€œReally?”
    â€œYeah.”
    â€œInteresting.”
    The two men stared at the bank building some more. The driver took the toothpick out of his mouth and grinned.
    â€œLooks like Chuck ‘call me Chip’ Weitzel isn’t as good with security as he is with the roulette wheel,” he said.
    Now the two shady men both laughed. They had met Mr. Weitzel at a bar in Las Vegas. The banker had extremely minty breath. He had also given Otto and Fred his business card, said he ran “the bestest little bank” in the country. “Stop by sometime when you’re back east. We can loan you enough money to get you completely out of debt.”
    Otto and Fred had both laughed at the bad banker joke. Then they pocketed Mr. Weitzel’s business cards and did their homework.
    The First National Bank of Fairview—what bank manager Weitzel called “Fin-boff”—was ripe for the picking. Especially on Thursday nights after the branch received its weekly infusion of cash to handle the Friday-afternoon payday rush.
    â€œWe do the usual?” asked Fred, staring across the street at Mr. Weitzel’s bank.
    Otto nodded. “We case the joint for a couple days. Learn how to disarm the alarm.”
    â€œThursday night,” said Fred, picking up on Otto’sthread, “when the safe is loaded, we slip on our masks, go in the back door.”
    â€œOnce we’re in the bank, you crack open the safe, I take out the security cameras.”
    â€œWe load up a few gym bags with moola-boola.”
    â€œWe waltz out the door.”
    â€œWe move on to the next sleepy little burb.”
    Both men sank back in their seats and sighed. They were a well-oiled cash machine—an ATM that only made withdrawals.

16
    AT NOON ON SATURDAY, RILEY Mack’s Operation Blind Date was in full swing.
    Jake Lowenstein went home to set things up on his computer. Jamal Wilson would join him there in about an hour.
    Riley, Briana, and Mongo headed downtown on their bikes.
    â€œWe need to buy Mongo a baseball hat,” said Briana, who was in charge of everybody’s disguises, or costumes as she always called them, even though Riley and Mongo begged her not to. “His buzz cut is a total giveaway. The cap will cover it up.”
    â€œI already have a baseball hat,” said Mongo, teeteringon his two-wheeler. He was so big and his bike so small, he looked like a clown at the circus. “Man, I wish I had a moped like that busboy Nick. I see him riding his motor scooter around town all the time, delivering pizzas. Looks like fun.”
    â€œTotally,” said Riley.
    â€œYou guys?” said Briana. “We were talking baseball caps?”
    â€œI told you,” said Mongo, his knees pumping up toward his nose, “I got one.”
    â€œYankees or Mets?”
    â€œYankees.”
    â€œWell, the Fairview High School team is called the Furriers so you need a Furriers cap. You should have one, too, Riley, since you’re playing the high school newspaper photographer. Ooh—you should wear yours backward!”
    â€œGood point,” said Riley,