Chapter 2

April, 1947

This was the last week of April, so I had to hurry if I wanted to catch the people behind this scam. School was nearly out (kids were needed to help on the farms), so I needed to move before I lost the trail. Realistically, I had only a couple of more days before I lost my contacts.

At the last bell, I followed the fifth-graders to their runner. They gave him their take for the day and left. I followed the runner to two more schools by TPing to sort of generic street corners; all street corners looked pretty much the same, except for the signs. I found my quarry and saw that his method of operation was the same at each school.

Finally, he was ready to turn in his take for the day. He went down town and found a place to park (parking places were easy to find in 1947). He went inside an office building and climbed the stairs to the third floor. As soon as he went into an office, I TPed to the end of the hall. I checked the name on the door, it was a prominent trial lawyer. I mentally followed the runner. He went into a back room where several men were sitting at a table. He dropped off a bag of change and left. I ducked back where he couldn't see me when he came out.

One of the men at the table emptied the change on the table and three began to count it. All three agreed on $97.45 and the fourth man nodded. The money was dumped back into the bag and the amount was noted in a ledger under the runner's name. The next runner to come in had $32.65 which was treated the same way. That appeared to be all for the day, because the three counters left for another office down the hall. The fourth man picked up the money bags and put them in a safe. He then left.

I now had some adult names, but I didn't know what to do with the information. I couldn't prove anything, so there was nothing to tell the police. Besides, this lawyer was too powerful to be brought down on the word of a 12-year-old kid. I also wondered if the lawyer was the top rung in the ladder. Obviously, $16,000+ was not enough to support a criminal organization; I knew because I religiously listened to "Gang Busters" every Tuesday night.

Therefore, there had to be more going on! I decided to mull over the information I had, but, meanwhile, I gave the crooks I knew migraine headaches to keep them amused until I worked out what to do. It was getting late in the afternoon, so I had better get home. I TPed to my back yard and went into the house.

Mother was in the kitchen working on supper; Dad wasn't home, yet. Mother and I greeted each other and I went to my room.

I really didn't know much about organized crime. There was nothing in the newspaper on the subject and the only radio programs that ever mentioned it were "Gang Busters" and "This Is Your FBI." Surely, our town of under 30,000 people didn't have much to offer organized crime! Since school was nearly out and there would be four months of summer "vacation," I would have plenty of time to work on what to do. I needed adult advice, but I didn't know how to get it.

Then I had an inspiration: I would pretend to be writing a report as a summer project. This report would be about police action against crime and criminals. I was sure that the local police would be very happy to cooperate on such a project which would make them look good. Of course, I would need to actually write the report, or nobody would ever trust me, again. I didn't think that this would be too difficult, since it only had to be a report, not a good report!

That evening, I discussed the project with my parents. Mother was dubious, but Dad thought that it was a great idea. He knew some policemen, so he could introduce me. Dad would set up the first meeting for the first day after school was out for the summer. After that, it was up to me. I was so excited over the prospect, I had trouble going to sleep that night.

I had my first meeting with Det. Jones on the following Thursday. At first, he was very condescending, but got over that pretty soon. I asked him what sort of felonies were committed in towns our size.

He answered, "Mostly there are thefts, but we also have various rackets like numbers, protection, and prostitution. Most of the thefts are auto, since there are a lot of men returning from World War II military service and they all want cars. Some used car lots have mostly stolen cars, but we can't prove it."

I asked him to explain the numbers racket and he gave a long and interesting lecture on how that was run, but he really waxed eloquently over the protection racked, which he particularly hated. I couldn't get him to talk about prostitution. We talked about other police things, and I left him to get back to work. I had another appointment with him for the next Thursday.

From what I had learned, I was now sure that the lawyer, Mr. James Hilton, esq., was involved in numbers, if not protection and prostitution (whatever that was). I also planned to look into the used car thing, but I didn't have much expectation of catching Hilton there. I caught the bus home and got there in time for lunch.

After lunch, I sat down to organize my thoughts over what I had learned that morning. I started to write out what I knew and realized that it wasn't necessary. I could recall everything that Det. Jones had said and had no trouble organizing his words into a useful package. This ability was really going to come in handy.

It occurred to me that I needed some experience in investigation before I went after the numbers and protection rackets. What better place to start than the auto theft operation. Even if Hilton was not involved, it would be good training for my other investigations.

That afternoon, I caught the bus back downtown and went to one of the larger used car dealers. I went into the office and saw a salesman leaning back with his feet up on a desk. I walked up and said, "Hello, I know I look too young to be interested, but my mother has sent me to get some preliminary information before she buys a car for my father on his birthday. Can you help me?"

"Sure, kid. What does your mother have in mind?"

"She doesn't know what she wants. She hopes that I can get some ideas for her. She doesn't want anything too fancy, but she does want a car she doesn't have to be afraid of being seen in when she goes to church."

"OK, kid, let's see what we have on the lot." I could tell that he was already jacking up the price for a naive first-time buyer.

As we walked out into the lot, I innocently asked, "Where do all these cars come from?"

His first thought was, "If you only knew! Most of these cars are stolen. Hilton has great connections!" However, what he said was, "These cars were bought at auction in Atlanta. They come from all over the North, mostly Detroit."

I gave him two mental commands, "Treat your customers fairly! Forget that I was here!"

I went to two more lots with the same results. By now, it was getting late and legitimate customers were beginning to show up. I figured that that was enough for today and I might as well go home. This trip really didn't accomplish anything except confirm that Hilton was dealing in stolen cars. The trouble was, I didn't know how to prove it.

For no particular reason, I decided to look into the protection racket, next. I figured that the best way to start was to get some specific information from Det. Jones. When I visited him on Thursday, I asked some pointed questions about recent cases. He said that he couldn't mention any current cases, so I asked for speculation. He said that he must refuse to speculate, but... "I've been wondering about a drugstore on East Main Street. It was vandalized about two weeks ago and a pharmacist is in the hospital with two broken legs, he claims he broke his legs falling off his porch. I could believe one leg, but not two!"

I probed Det. Jones mind and got the name of the injured man. That afternoon, I visited him in the hospital and explained why I was there. He was very unhappy to see me; I was glad that I did not mention Det. Jones' name. He said that he couldn't talk about the incident because he had a wife and two young daughters. I probed and got all of the information I needed. While I was there, I cured a ulcer that was starting in his duodenum and I hurried the healing of his legs.

I had gotten the names, descriptions, and likenesses of the two men who had attacked the pharmacist. The question was how to find them. "I've got it! I'll compel Hilton's private secretary to telephone me if and when one of the thugs shows up at the office or when she has other information about them."

It was kind of funny the way Mother reacted to me hanging around the telephone during business hours and rushing to answer it whenever it rang. I knew she wondered what had gotten into me that I was so interested in the telephone, but she never questioned me. Finally, on the third day after I set the compulsion, she called to say that both of the thugs were in the office talking to Hilton. I told my mother that I would be gone for a while and went to my special place in the back yard. From there, I teleported to the hall in front of Hilton's office.