The Old Man

“It’s for you, Jeff,” my mom said when we all pushed into the kitchen. She held the phone out to me.

“Really?” I asked. “For me?” I glanced over at Brian, Mara, and Kelly. “Who could it be? All my friends are right here.”

“And we don’t even like you that much,” Brian said. “Just kidding.”

My mom shrugged. “Whoever it is, he’s very polite. He asked for the original Goofball.”

“That would be me,” I said.

“Maybe he’s got a case for us,” Kelly whispered, and she crossed her fingers.

I took the phone. “Hello?” I said.

“Is this a Goofball?” said the voice. “The original Goofball?”

The voice was deep and scratchy. An old man, I thought.

“The absolute number one Goofball,” I said, flipping open my cluebook. “Who is this?”

“You don’t know me,” the man said. “My name is Randall Crandall.”

Odd name, I thought. It rhymes. I wrote it down.

Randall Crandall

Old man

“Go on, Mr. Crandall, sir,” I said.

There was something like a cough at the other end of the line. Then he said, “I read in the newspaper about the Incredible Pizza Disaster.”

“Totally Incredible, to be exact,” I said.

“Everyone knows how you saved that little restaurant,” he said. “Well, I have a case for you—”

“We’ll take it!” I blurted out. Then I caught myself. “I mean, please tell me more.”

“Something,” said the voice. “Or … someone … has disappeared. But I can’t tell you over the phone. Come to my house. I live on Woodview Avenue.”

I added the name to my notebook.

Woodview Avenue

“What number on Woodview Avenue?” I asked.

Mr. Crandall took a deep breath and said, “Woodview Avenue is … my driveway.”

Click.

Mr. Randall Crandall hung up.

“Well?” said Brian, stuffing two paper napkins and a handful of toothpicks into the already bulging pockets of his cargo shorts.

“Well?” said Mara, staring through her glasses at the griddle on the counter.

“Well?” said Kelly. “What’s the case?”

“This man wants us to find something,” I said. “Or someone. I’m not exactly sure.”

“What did he say?” asked Brian. “Something or someone?”

“Actually, he said both,” I said, writing that in my cluebook, too.

“Sounds mysterious,” said Mara.

“And suspicious,” said Kelly, tugging on her curls. “The best mysteries are both.”

When I told my mom where the place was, her mouth dropped open and she sat at the table. “That’s the richest part of town, Jeff. I don’t know anyone who lives up there.”

I grinned. “Well, someone named Randall Crandall knows all about the Goofballs.”

My mother nodded. “Well, there was that newspaper article and the photo in the restaurant and all those flyers you put up around town. I guess you are pretty famous.”

“And also pretty famished,” said Mara, still staring at the griddle. “Can we eat before we go?”

We did eat. Grilled cheese. With pineapple slices on the side. Mara was happy.

Twenty minutes later, we were all belted into my mom’s SUV.

Brian sat next to Kelly but not next to me. I sat next to Mara but not next to Kelly. Mara sat next to Kelly but not next to Brian.

Mom didn’t sit next to any of us because she was driving.

Which was good because our legs were too short to reach the gas pedal.

And Mom needed the gas pedal to drive us to Woodview Avenue.

And the house of Randall Crandall!