More Adventures Of The Great Brain by John D. Fitzgerald Page B

tracks are law-abiding citizens.”

        “Good thinking, J.D.,” Tom said. “That leaves just somebody living in the Sheepmen’s Hotel or the rooming house on the other side of the railroad tracks. Which means they must eat their meals in the Palace Cafe or in the Sheepmen’s Hotel restaurant. And that gives me an idea. Go get Basil.”

    “I no got no news yet,” Basil said when we entered the barn. “I sit in corner of cafe and listen to customers for supper last night until eight o’clock but no hear no news.”

        “I think the men who robbed the bank must eat some of their meals in your father’s cafe,” Tom said. “As one of my reporters, it will be your job to listen to the customers without letting them know you are listening.”

    “How I do that?” Basil asked.

        “You can hide behind the counter in the dining room where your father keeps his pies and cakes and things,” Tom said. “You can listen to what the customers say without them knowing it.”

    “Maybe Papa don’t let me,” Basil said.

        “Show him your press card and tell him you work for me,” Tom said. “Tell him it is a part of being one-hundred-percent American boy.”

        The next morning after doing my share of the morning chores I went to the Marshal’s Office. Uncle Mark wasn’t there but there was a prisoner in one of the cells. It was Mr. Haggerty, who got drunk every couple of weeks and disturbed the peace so much that Uncle Mark had to lock him up until he was sober. He was sitting on the bunk in his cell holding his head in his hands. Since it was my duty as a reporter to interview all prisoners, I walked to the door of the cell.

    “Mr. Haggerty, why do you get drunk?” I asked.

        He raised his head and looked at me with bloodshot eyes. “It’s that wife of mine, sonny,” he said. “She nags and nags at me until I have to get drunk or go out of my mind.”

        I figured this was news because nobody but me and Mr. Haggerty knew why he got drunk. I made a note of it in my reporter’s notebook.

        

    Friday afternoon right after lunch all the reporters arrived at our barn to turn in their reports. Tom sat behind his desk with his green eye shade over his eyes. He had a pencil in his hand and a big notebook on his desk. He asked me to report first. I told him what Mr. Haggerty had told me.

        “Very good, J.D.,” Tom said as he wrote in his notebook. “That is news. I’ve often wondered why he got drunk.”

        One by one Sammy, Seth, Danny, and Jimmie made their reports. All of them had one or more items that Tom considered newsworthy enough to write in his notebook.

    “You’re next, Basil/’ he said.

    “I wait until other reporters leave,” Basil said.

        “Some reporter,” Sammy said with a sneer. “He didn’t get any news.”

        Tom had an excited look on his face as he ordered the other reporters to leave. When all of them had left the barn, he looked at Basil.

        “You found out something about the robbery?” he asked with excitement.

        “I know who rob bank,” Basil said proudly. “I no want to say in front of other reporters. Afraid maybe they tell before Bugle is published.”

        “Wow!” Tom shouted. “What a story!” Then he gripped his pencil. “Let’s have it, Basil.”

        Basil told us he was pretty downhearted by Thursday evening because he hadn’t heard anything from customers at the cafe that sounded like news. He asked his father if he could stay up hiding behind the counter until the cafe closed at nine o’clock. At first his father said no, but when Basil explained he would lose his job as a reporter on the Bugle if he didn’t get some news, his father agreed.

    At eight-thirty two customers entered the cafe for a late supper. They sat down at a table and ordered steaks smothered in onions and hash-brown potatoes, apple pie, and coffee. Mr. Kokovinis went into the kitchen