Guy Langman, Crime Scene Procrastinator by Josh Berk

Author:Josh Berk [Berk, Josh]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 978-0-375-89775-7
Publisher: Random House Children's Books
Published: 2012-03-12T16:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

It really isn’t like it is on TV. That much is true. I head up to the attic, even though Mom keeps telling me to forget it and go to bed. I do not want to forget it. And I don’t want to talk about it. I want to look at the room. Problem is, first of all, real life is messy as hell. Most of us don’t have things so organized that you can tell if a single hair is out of place. The attic is always filled with boxes and junk, and somebody never puts things back where they belong anyway. The way I live, every day looks like a crime scene. Every room looks like it’s been broken into. It’s like I’m mugging myself. You see my point.

The point of entry, at least, is clear enough. The attic window is still open. The intruder simply climbed the elm outside, jumped over to the roof, and crawled in through the window. I’m poking around, trying not to disturb anything, but it’s impossible. I keep tripping over boxes, and it’s impossible to tell if anything has been messed with. I’m trying to think like a criminal. What did he want? Why was he here? Was he on his way downstairs to slit our throats in our sleep? If so, why did he seem to be ransacking these boxes? It’s hard to focus. I am tired. And I am scared. And I am angry. It makes it hard to concentrate. This is probably why you wouldn’t ask a detective to investigate his own attempted murder. It’s clear what I need. I need my sidekick. I need Anoop.

It’s well after midnight, but I call him anyway. This is what friends are for, right? You can be in the middle of a big fight and it can be past midnight, but if you really need them, you can call. The phone rings and rings and he does not pick up. But I am not worried. I call again. No pickup, but I’m still not worried. We long ago made a pact that no matter what is going on, if one of us calls three times you have to pick up. You just have to. You can be taking a bath or be on the toilet or double-cupping the most beautiful boobs in the world—you have to stop and answer the phone if the other one calls three times in a row. I often imagined the situation in which it might happen, but I never imagined that it actually would happen. I call the third time and okay, I do start to get worried after a few rings. But Anoop, that beautiful bastard, picks up. He sounds tired.

“Hello?” he says.

“Hey, what took you so long to pick up?” I ask. “Were you double-cupping some beautiful boobs?”

“Just my own,” he says. “Also, it’s the middle of the night and I thought you hated me.”

“What gave you that idea?”

“You told me that you hated me.

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