The Mad Scientists' Club (Mad Scientist Club Book 1) by Bertrand R. Brinley

Author:Bertrand R. Brinley [Brinley, Bertrand R.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Purple House Press
Published: 2011-09-01T04:00:00+00:00

The Mayor looked at the members of the Committee, and the members of the Committee looked toward the Chief of Police, and the Chief of Police looked back at the Mayor. Mayor Scragg cleared his throat and flapped his cheeks in and out a few times, the way he always does when he doesn’t know what to say. Then he leaned over and said very quietly to Chief Putney, “I think maybe we’ve got a nut on our hands.”

“I agree,” said Chief Putney. “Maybe if we ignore him, he’ll go away.”

“Don’t be silly,” said the Mayor. “This kind doesn’t go away. We’ve got to get him down from there before he ruins the whole Founder’s Day ceremony.”

“What would you suggest, your Honor?”

“You’re the Chief of Police,” said the Mayor. “I’d suggest you start earning your salary.” And the Mayor turned and smiled and waved at the crowds again.

“Did you call me a nut?” came the voice through the mannequin.

The Mayor looked up and flapped his cheeks in and out again.

“I’m not a nut. I’m a Mexican jumping bean,” said the mannequin. “Wanna see me jump?”

By this time the open area around the monument had become crowded with people, all pushing against each other, trying to get a closer view of what was going on. The Mayor was still standing in the back seat of the open touring car, holding his arms up in the air and trying to get the crowd to be quiet.

“Ladies and gentlemen!” he said, trying to sound as loud and important as he could.

“Ladies and gentlemen!” echoed the mannequin.

The Mayor looked up at the mannequin and said, “Shut up!”

“Shut up!” repeated the mannequin to the crowd. There was a great laugh.

“Fellow citizens!” said the Mayor.

“Fellow citizens!” said the mannequin.

“I implore you to pay no attention to the man on top of the monument,” said the Mayor. “Your able Chief of Police, Harold Putney, and the Fire Department, I am sure, will manage to get him down safely.”

“If they come near me I’ll jump!” said the mannequin.

The Mayor flapped his cheeks in and out again.

“Pay no attention to that unfortunate man up there,” he said. “He needs all the help and understanding we can give him.”

“I don’t need help—but you do!” said the mannequin.

By this time, Henry and I were laughing so hard Mortimer could hardly keep his face straight. He had to shut off the transmitter until we calmed down. The crowd was milling around Mayor Scragg’s car, making suggestions about how to get the nut down off the monument. A bunch of kids were standing on the bleachers at the edge of the crowd, yelling for him to jump.

We could see Mike Corcoran, who operates the pool room down on Blake Street, moving around the fringes of the crowd in his straw hat and plaid suit.

“I’ll bet he’s taking bets on whether the dummy jumps,” said Mortimer.

“He’ll have a hard time figuring out how to pay off, when he sees what happens,” said Henry.

“When’ll we let him go?” I asked.

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