Tj and the Rockets by Hazel Hutchins Read Free Book Online Page B

cats disappeared instantly.
    Seymour and I stood in the middle of the room staring at each other. I could tell by the way his hairs stood on end and his eyes were wide that he’d been just as surprised as I’d been.
    â€œIt’s supposed to launch them one at a time!” said Seymour. “It never did that before.”
    He spent the next hour trying to fix it. The hinged part just wasn’t strong enough to be used over and over again.
    â€œThere are some hinges at the store,” said Seymour. “Do you think your mom and dad would give me a discount on them?”
    I looked at Seymour. I still didn’t want to tell him about Mom and Dad suspecting him, but I’d finally come up with a plan, and I was definitely going to need his help.
    I told him the part I could tell him. I told him about Mr. G. and the shoplifting.

Chapter 10
    We had to catch Mr. G. in the act.
    Whenever Mr. G. got off work, he had a routine. He went to the back room to grab his jacket, but he didn’t put it on right away. He carried it bunched up under his arm and went to the front to tell Mom he was leaving. After that he walked through the store—sometimes along one aisle, sometimes along another. He left by the back door. His car was always parked across the alley, and he tossed his jacket inside before he climbed in and drove away.
    â€œWhatever he steals, he must wrap it in his jacket. Once it’s in the car, he’s home free,” I explained to Seymour. “We have to be at the back door. We haveto bump into him or trip him or grab his jacket… anything to get him to drop what’s inside.”
    â€œMaybe I could invent some kind of beeper that goes off,” said Seymour.
    â€œThat’s what the security man is trying to sell Mom and Dad. If we prove that it’s Mr. G., then they won’t have to spend all that money.”
    And Seymour would be cleared for good. That’s what I kept reminding myself because it felt pretty weird to have a plan to trap someone I’d actually liked.
    That Thursday, Mr. G. had a later shift than usual. Seymour and I had been at the store about an hour before it got close to the time he was getting off. We’d kept extra busy to avoid talking to him. Seymour had been helping me clean and reorganize the pet supply shelves.
    â€œAre you really, really sure it’s Mr. G.?” asked Seymour.
    â€œIt has to be,” I said. “Who else could it be?”
    â€œWhat do you think he’ll take?” asked Seymour.
    â€œUsually it’s something on one of the lower shelves,” I said. “Not really low down but not really high up either. He could already have it wrapped in his jacket, but my guess is he actually picks it up on his way out of the store at the end of the day.”
    Seymour nodded.
    â€œAnd it’s usually on one of the end shelves for some reason.”
    â€œHey,” said Seymour, “that lady looks a lot like your gran, except for the knitting bag. Your gran doesn’t do ordinary things like knit.”
    â€œSoap,” I said.
    â€œWhat?”
    â€œThat’s what she always buys. A bar of soap.”
    â€œWeird,” said Seymour. “I think I’ll go check out the hinges. I want to see what size might work for my Amuze-A-Kitty.”
    It would have all been okay if the restaurant man hadn’t come in. He needed coffee filters, and the kind he wanted weren’t on the shelves. I had to go intothe back room to look for more. I thought I’d hear Mr. G. when he came to get his jacket. I guess I was making too much noise shifting boxes to hear, and when I finally found the filters and turned around, Mr. G.’s jacket was gone.
    I hurried into the store. I quickly handed the restaurant man the filters and headed off to look up and down the aisles. I didn’t want to spook Mr. G., but if I could actually see him wrapping something in his jacket, I knew I