Last Panda Standing Page 10
Still, they were outnumbered—and the team of attackers grew as squirrels rushed up onto the roof from inside the building. Every one of them was armed. They circled Zengo and Cooper and began to close in.
“Whatever happens here,” said Cooper, “it’s been a pleasure working alongside you. You’re as good a detective as O’Malley says you are.”
“It’s not over yet, Cooper,” said Zengo, looking up.
A whoosh of wind came from above, and a moment later a sleek helicopter hovered over the roof.
“Let’s even up these odds a bit, shall we?” said Bobby over the chopper’s speaker. Pandini’s entire security squad descended onto the scene. Bobby threw on a spotlight, temporarily blinding the squirrels.
“Put your hands in the air where I can see them!” Zengo shouted. The squirrels all dropped their boomerangs, each landing with a clang, and slowly raised their hands. Soon, they were all in handcuffs.
Zengo stepped up to Nutter. “Did you really think that you’d get away with this?”
“I had no choice,” said Mr. Nutter. “If Pandini won this election and his nut allergy legislation went through, my family’s business was done for!”
“I don’t believe you came up with this entire scheme on your own,” said Cooper. “Organizing those attacks would have taken more resources and access than you had at your disposal. You had help from someone else—someone close to Mr. Pandini.”
Nutter nodded sadly.
Cooper picked up her radio. “Bring him up, boys.” She smiled at Zengo as they heard the sound of distant sirens growing closer.
Diaz and Lucinni came up onto the roof through the stairwell, escorting a fuming Patrick McGovern, with Corey O’Malley right behind them. McGovern was struggling in their grips. “Unhand me! What am I doing here? Frank? What is the meaning of this?”
“Do you want to tell us, Mr. Nutter?” Cooper asked.
“McGovern knew that Pandini was going to launch a campaign against nuts in Kalamazoo City,” Nutter said, his head hanging low. “He approached me and promised he’d kill any anti-nut legislation if I got Pandini to drop out of the race.”
“It’s a lie!” shouted McGovern. “I never! This is preposterous! Why would I do something like that?”
“Revenge,” said Cooper. “Pure and simple. Revenge for what Frank’s father did to your father the night he was arrested.”
“Well, I . . .” McGovern stammered. “It’s true, my father went to prison that night, but Frank’s been a friend to me since we were little. . . . Frank, please, tell me you don’t believe this nonsense!”
Pandini, now untied, looked his friend in the eye. “I don’t want to believe it, Pat. But ever since this campaign began, I have felt like I did not know my old friend anymore. Then when you started those hateful attack ads, I truly did not know what to think.”
Lucinni turned McGovern around, and Diaz slapped handcuffs on him. McGovern’s head dropped low.
That’s when Zengo turned around and noticed a familiar face at the doorway, jotting down notes in his notepad. It was Derek Dougherty, who was soon joined by a mob of reporters. They swarmed onto the roof, flashbulbs firing.
O’Malley swung around to Diaz and Lucinni. “Who tipped off these parasites?”
Diaz and Lucinni looked embarrassed. Each one tried to point at the other, and then they just shrugged.
O’Malley towered over Derek. “You and the other creeps better get out of here the way you came . . . or I will send you all back down via the shortcut!” He indicated the edge of the roof.
“Don’t get your tail all tied up in a knot, Detective,” said Derek, leading all the other reporters back to the stairs. “We’ll be in touch later—for follow-ups.”
“Swarming little gnats,” growled O’Malley.
“Diaz and Lucinni, let’s get these perps down to headquarters,” said Cooper, indicating the shamed squirrels and the devastated McGovern. They made their way toward the rooftop-access door.
Pandini approached Zengo and O’Malley and held out a hand to Zengo. “Thank you for all your help, Detective. I owe you my life. And more than once, I might add.”
Zengo returned his handshake. “It’s been an honor, sir.”
Pandini continued. “I think I am safe from further harm. And from a loss in the election, it would seem. I don’t believe my opponent will be able to continue his campaign after all that has happened. As far as I’m concerned, it’s time for you to return to your regular duties—with my eternal gratitude.”
Zengo bowed his head. O’Malley clapped him on the shoulder. “We’ll all be glad to have him back at headquarters,” he said. The two old partners exchanged a smile.
PLATYPUS POLICE SQUAD HEADQUARTERS, 9:15 A.M.
Rick Zengo sat at his desk, happily poring over the latest Kalamazoo City Krier. Corey O’Malley sat at the next desk, looking at the same newspaper with considerably less enthusiasm. The headline splayed across each front page read HERO DETECTIVES UNCOVER ELECTION SCANDAL. The photo accompanying the article featured Zengo, Cooper, and O’Malley surrounded by the squirrels, a shamed Patrick McGovern, and a grateful Frank Pandini.
“What do you think?” said Zengo. “Not exactly my best side.”
“No, not really. It’s a photo of your face,” said O’Malley. “If I had to choose your better side, it would be the back of your head.”
“There’s no such thing as bad publicity, though.”
“This type of thing is just a distraction.”
“You wouldn’t be saying that because Derek spelled your name ‘Korry O’Malley,’ would you?”
“Hmmph,” was all O’Malley said.
Cooper and Plazinski walked out from the sergeant’s office. O’Malley and Zengo stood up. “Jo!” said Zengo. “Say it ain’t so!”
“We can’t stand to see you go!” said O’Malley. “Hey! That rhymed!”
“What are you talking about?” said Plazinski.
“We figured she was going back to Atlantis City,” said Zengo.
“Now that the case is closed,” said O’Malley.
“Not that we want her to,” they both said.
Zengo punched O’Malley in the shoulder. “Jinx. You owe me a soda.”
“Nope,” said Cooper. “I’m staying right here. Besides,” she added, “I think we make a pretty good team!”
The three detectives smiled at each other.
Even Plazinski agreed. “I got to admit,” he said, “it took all three of you to bust this case up—can’t see any point in breaking you up now. You’re on a roll.”
“Are you ready to head over to Frank’s Franks and settle our bet?” said Cooper to Plazinski.
“No time like the present,” said Plazinski, grinning grumpily in spite of himself.
“What’s this about a bet?” said O’Malley.
“Plazinski bet me a footlong that after Zengo peeled off to work with Pandini, you guys would never want to work together again,” said Cooper.
Zengo and O’Malley looked at each other.
Plazinski was a little embarrassed. “I can see I was wrong.”
“See ya around, boys,” said Cooper as she and Plazinski headed out of the station.
O’Malley and Zengo sat back down at their desks. They folded up the newspapers, silence hanging between them.
O’Malley spoke up first. “I don’t know if I ever told you how much your grandfather meant to me,” he said. “He was a mentor, sure. But he was more than that. He was a friend, too. And that’s all I’ve ever wanted to be to you, Rick.”
Zengo rubbed his eye, which suddenly felt like it had something caught in it. “I’m lucky to work with you,” he said. “That’s what I was thinking when I was watching Pandini and McGovern’s friendship fall apart. When I was just starting, I thought the only thing that mattered was taking charge, being a hero. I didn’t understand that the only way to become the best was to team up with the best.”
They smiled.
&nbs
p; “I gotta ask you one question, though,” said O’Malley.
“What’s up?” said Zengo.
“I have to admit, I was a little hurt when you went to rescue Pandini instead of me. What was that all about?”
“Are you kidding?” said Zengo. “You really would have wanted me throwing boomerangs at the squirrels carrying you, trying to knock them out of the sky? I told Cooper to go after you because I trust her more than I trust myself. Have you ever seen that platypus throw a boomerang? But I swear, if you tell her I said that, I’ll deny it!”
O’Malley laughed. “I have a feeling with Frank Pandini about to be crowned as mayor, we’re going to have our work cut out for us.”
“Truth,” said Detective Rick Zengo.
PANDINI TOWERS, 9:45 A.M.
Pandini hung up his phone. He looked at Bobby and Irving Myers. “McGovern has officially dropped out of the race,” he said, and tapped the newspaper lying open in front of him. “An investigation is still pending, but the damage has been done.” In spite of this welcome news, his face was serious.
“Congratulations, boss!” said Bobby, clapping Pandini on the shoulder—his good shoulder.
Pandini smiled. But there was a trace of sadness in the smile.
Myers, however, could not contain his glee. “I have to admit, I never thought your plan would work.”
Pandini glanced up, his face an unreadable mask.
Myers, oblivious to his boss’s expression—or the lack of one—continued. “Frame McGovern for the attacks? And bring in a real member of the PPS for your ‘protection,’ to make it all look legit? Pure genius.”
“I hated to do it to Pat, I really did,” said Pandini. “McGovern was my oldest friend. But he had the nerve to try to stand between me and the mayor’s office, and I had no choice. Pat had to pay the price.”
“And he did,” said Myers.
“Bobby, I’d like you to reach out to your contacts in the penitentiary, get a message to Jacob Nutter for me,” Pandini continued. “Reassure him that I’m going to be taking care of A.J. and the rest of his family just as soon as I take the oath of office. I won’t forget what he’s done for me.”
“Okay, I’ll get on that right away,” said Bobby.
“Anything else, Mayor Pandini?” asked Myers.
“That’s it for now, boys. And—thanks.” Pandini stood up and clapped his closest comrades on the shoulder. They bustled out of the office.
The next mayor of Kalamazoo City was now alone with his thoughts—and with the dramatic view of the city that he had personally restored from a disaster to a triumph. On his way over to the windows, he stopped to gaze at a small framed photograph on his wall. It was a picture of him and his father, long before his father’s arrest, when he was just a cub, leaving a Kalamazoo City Pirates ball game.
Pandini studied the photograph. “I promise to do you proud,” he said aloud to his father. “They’ll pay for what they’ve done.”
He gazed out the window, thinking of the past, and the future.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
To Jordan Brown, thank you for hitting the middle grade beat with me once again! I am eternally grateful for the support from Debbie Kovacs, Randy Testa, Noel Barlow, and everyone at Walden Pond Press. Thank you to Caroline Sun, Jenna Lisanti, Katie Fitch, Bethany Reis, and everyone at HarperCollins; it is an honor to partner up with such a talented team! Thank you to Rebecca Sherman, Eddie Gamarra, and Deb Shapiro, for making up my squad.
Thank you to my real-world cop friends Corey McGrath and Chris Zengo, who continue to keep their communities safe and field all of my questions. For the 1998 Yellow Platypus at the Hole in the Wall Gang Camp, my first instance of drawing a monotreme.
Thank you to Joey Weiser and Michele Chidester for their help in shading the art in this book! And a shout to Austin Gifford and Sylvia Peterson for keeping things running in my studio.
Most importantly, thank you to my girls—Gina, Zoe, and Lucy—for their constant and unparalleled support and patience. And yes, for Ralph, too. I’m sorry this book series isn’t called Pug Police Squad.
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ABOUT THE AUTHOR
JARRETT J. KROSOCZKA is the author and illustrator of the Lunch Lady graphic novel series, a two-time winner of the Children’s Choice Book Award, as well as many picture books. He can be heard on “The Book Report with JJK,” his radio segment on SiriusXM’s Kids Place Live. Jarrett lives in Northampton, Massachusetts, with his wife, two daughters, and their pug, Ralph Macchio. You can visit him online at www.studiojjk.com.
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CREDITS
Cover art © 2015 by Jarrett J. Krosoczka
Cover design by Katie Fitch
COPYRIGHT
Walden Pond Press is an imprint of HarperCollins Publishers.
Walden Pond Press and the skipping stone logo are trademarks and registered trademarks of Walden Media, LLC.
PLATYPUS POLICE SQUAD: LAST PANDA STANDING. Copyright © 2015 by Jarrett J. Krosoczka. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the nonexclusive, nontransferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse-engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books.
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Library of Congress Control Number: 2014949451
ISBN 978-0-06-207168-2
EPub Edition © April 2015 ISBN 9780062071699
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