refrigerator and took down a brown magnetized potholder shaped like a basketball. "Here," he said and handed it to J.P.
J.P. glanced at the potholder. " 'DINNER WILL WAIT,' " he read, '"FOR â'" He looked up expectantly at Poochie and Caroline.
" 'HERBIE TATE,' " they both replied.
"Very tasteful," J.P. said with a grimace. "But there's the phone number." He went to the telephone and dialed the number that was printed on the potholder.
Caroline gave the fussy baby a cracker and put her into the playpen next to her sister, who was chewing on a toy. She listened with interest to J.P. as he talked on the telephone to Herbie.
"Dad," J.P. was saying, "I can't be positive without coming down there to check it out, but I am almost positive that I know what's gone wrong at the store."
Caroline watched as J.P. listened impatiently to his father's voice.
"No," J.P. said, "Poochie's not listening. He's watching TV. Listen, Dad, if you'd just let me come down and check the computer systemâ"
There was another impatient silence as J.P. listened. His shoulders were stiff.
"I
know
I'm only thirteen, Dad. But I've been studying computers at school in New York for five years.
Age
doesn't matter; it's how your brain works. My brain works like a computer. I'm a crummy baseball player, Dad, but I'm a
genius
at computers !"
More tense silence as J.P. listened in frustration.
"Dadâ"
He sighed and listened some more.
"Dad. I know you have the accountants there, and I know how much they're costing you. But I am almost
sure
that if you'd give me a chance, I could solve the whole thing this afternoon.
"Hey, Dad, how about letting me speak to one of the accountants? Just for a minute, okay?"
J.P. waited. His eyes lit up. He whispered across the room to Caroline, "He's getting the accountant. Maybe I can convince
him.
"
He turned back to the telephone. "Sir? This is James P. Tate, Herbie Tate's son. Listen, sir, I'm only thirteen, but I think I know what the problem is at the store. There was an employee who was fired a while back, and he had access to the computer. I think he sabotaged the financial records before he left."
J.P. listened for a moment. "Yessir," he said. "Thirteen. But, sir, I
know
computers. I know how he could have done it. And if he did what I
think
he did, the data base still has its integrity. Do you have a BASIC interpreter on the system?"
He sighed and listened. With his hand over the mouthpiece, he whispered to Caroline, "This guy doesn't know anything about computers."
He turned back to the telephone. "Yessir," he said, "I could. I don't want to just kludge something together, though. I want to write a system, a whole new interface with the data base, and then we couldâ"
The man interrupted, and J.P. waited.
"Thank you, sir," he said at last. "I'll be ready."
He hung up. His forehead was sweaty, and he was breathing hard. But he was grinning. "They're sending a car for me," he told his sister.
Caroline and Poochie watched from the doorway as J.P., wearing his enormous COACH shirt, but with his shoulders straight and firm inside it, was motioned over to a dark sedan by two men in business suits. Both of them were talking to J.P. at the same time.
J.P. was nodding professionally as he listened to them.
He interrupted them politely just as they reached the car parked in the driveway. "Of course you could be right," he said. "But I feel fairly certain that what we're going to find is a discrepancy between the data base and the report maker. Now that could be programmed into catalogue sales, or front registers, or both, andâ"
He got into the car, looked back at Caroline and called, "I may be gone all night!"
Caroline nodded and waved. She felt very proud of her brother and very hopeful that her father's problems would be solved.
But Poochie let out a howl. "All night? What about baseball practice? The big game's day after tomorrow!"
Caroline put her arm around him. "I'll take over,"
J.P. glanced at the potholder. " 'DINNER WILL WAIT,' " he read, '"FOR â'" He looked up expectantly at Poochie and Caroline.
" 'HERBIE TATE,' " they both replied.
"Very tasteful," J.P. said with a grimace. "But there's the phone number." He went to the telephone and dialed the number that was printed on the potholder.
Caroline gave the fussy baby a cracker and put her into the playpen next to her sister, who was chewing on a toy. She listened with interest to J.P. as he talked on the telephone to Herbie.
"Dad," J.P. was saying, "I can't be positive without coming down there to check it out, but I am almost positive that I know what's gone wrong at the store."
Caroline watched as J.P. listened impatiently to his father's voice.
"No," J.P. said, "Poochie's not listening. He's watching TV. Listen, Dad, if you'd just let me come down and check the computer systemâ"
There was another impatient silence as J.P. listened. His shoulders were stiff.
"I
know
I'm only thirteen, Dad. But I've been studying computers at school in New York for five years.
Age
doesn't matter; it's how your brain works. My brain works like a computer. I'm a crummy baseball player, Dad, but I'm a
genius
at computers !"
More tense silence as J.P. listened in frustration.
"Dadâ"
He sighed and listened some more.
"Dad. I know you have the accountants there, and I know how much they're costing you. But I am almost
sure
that if you'd give me a chance, I could solve the whole thing this afternoon.
"Hey, Dad, how about letting me speak to one of the accountants? Just for a minute, okay?"
J.P. waited. His eyes lit up. He whispered across the room to Caroline, "He's getting the accountant. Maybe I can convince
him.
"
He turned back to the telephone. "Sir? This is James P. Tate, Herbie Tate's son. Listen, sir, I'm only thirteen, but I think I know what the problem is at the store. There was an employee who was fired a while back, and he had access to the computer. I think he sabotaged the financial records before he left."
J.P. listened for a moment. "Yessir," he said. "Thirteen. But, sir, I
know
computers. I know how he could have done it. And if he did what I
think
he did, the data base still has its integrity. Do you have a BASIC interpreter on the system?"
He sighed and listened. With his hand over the mouthpiece, he whispered to Caroline, "This guy doesn't know anything about computers."
He turned back to the telephone. "Yessir," he said, "I could. I don't want to just kludge something together, though. I want to write a system, a whole new interface with the data base, and then we couldâ"
The man interrupted, and J.P. waited.
"Thank you, sir," he said at last. "I'll be ready."
He hung up. His forehead was sweaty, and he was breathing hard. But he was grinning. "They're sending a car for me," he told his sister.
Caroline and Poochie watched from the doorway as J.P., wearing his enormous COACH shirt, but with his shoulders straight and firm inside it, was motioned over to a dark sedan by two men in business suits. Both of them were talking to J.P. at the same time.
J.P. was nodding professionally as he listened to them.
He interrupted them politely just as they reached the car parked in the driveway. "Of course you could be right," he said. "But I feel fairly certain that what we're going to find is a discrepancy between the data base and the report maker. Now that could be programmed into catalogue sales, or front registers, or both, andâ"
He got into the car, looked back at Caroline and called, "I may be gone all night!"
Caroline nodded and waved. She felt very proud of her brother and very hopeful that her father's problems would be solved.
But Poochie let out a howl. "All night? What about baseball practice? The big game's day after tomorrow!"
Caroline put her arm around him. "I'll take over,"
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