Chapter Two

BURR MEETS THE FBI

I leaned back in the back seat of the police car. My mind was unable to accept a Nazi spy in Carr County. That didn’t happen in a quiet little town like Carrville. Chief Eckstein had said that the spy was radioing weather reports to the Gulf of Mexico to German U-Boats. Why did they want that information? I couldn’t figure it out, but if Carrville’s two officers had talked to the FBI about it, then it must be true.

I did recall a lot of army trucks around town for the last few weeks. The excuse had been maneuvers for the landing in Europe. I was so busy looking at the soldiers and their equipment, I didn’t question why they were in a hick town two-hundred miles from the ocean to practice amphibious landings.

“They got a radio and everything,” Dougie was saying. He had gone from a seal to a flag, a picture of Hitler and now a radio transmitter. If Officer Morris didn’t hurry and get there, he would have a Panzer tank in the warehouse.

“I bet they’ve got a Panzer in there, too” Dougie said, like he was reading my mind. The truth is he couldn’t read much of anything, which just goes to prove I know how he thinks.

Officer Morris slowed. “Did you see a tank in there, Dougie?” Officer Morris’s voice sounded cold and flat.

Even Dougie with his limited intelligence backed down. “No, I didn’t see a tank, but I bet they could have one.”

I wanted to bury my head in the back seat but the odor stopped me. I reached for a door handle but there was no door in the back seat of a two-door, 1940 Ford. And no crank for the window, either. That had been removed to keep criminals from escaping out the six inches it could open.

I stretched and looked out the window. I was trapped with an insane idiot in the back of a police car. I didn’t think Mack was right. I wasn’t a trouble magnet; I had bad taste in friends.

Officer Morris stopped in front of the building and pushed his cap back on his head. “You sure this is the building?”

Dougie looked back at me for confirmation. I watched Mr. Bauer and hoped he didn’t tell Officer Morris I had ridden his milk goat through his zinnia patch.

“Yeah, this is it. Isn’t it, Burr?” Dougie reached for the door handle like he was going to run and leave me with a mad 300-pound cop. And I wasn’t the one who woke him up.

I glared at Dougie and shook my head.

Officer Morris opened his door of the patrol car and stepped out. We followed him out and walked between the warehouses and up the steps to the porch.

“Dougie Masterson, do you know who owns this warehouse?” Officer Morris exploded.

I inched to the edge of the porch and calculated if I could beat Officer Morris off the steps to freedom. From experience I knew he was a lot quicker than he looked.

Officer Morris saw my play and blocked Dougie and me from escaping.

“It’s in there, isn’t it, Burr?” Dougie backed behind me.

I squinted up through the sunlight at Officer Morris and decided there were three possible outcomes in this caper, and all were bad. Mother would send me to live with Uncle Jessie in Hondo, Dougie would beat me up, and now I had to contend with Officer Morris. We called him Man Mountain Morris when he wasn’t listening. When he was listening, we called him sir.

“It looked like a seal that could be a Nazi seal. Dougie saw the other stuff.” I inched behind Officer Morris in order to avoid retaliation from Dougie.

“Burr, you worm. You know you saw the same stuff I did. He’s chicken, Officer Morris.” Dougie’s words ran together like a team of mules.

Officer Morris pushed us apart. “Do you know who owns this warehouse?” he demanded again.

I felt like the time that Mrs. Smith asked me to work a math problem in front of the class. The problem was easy enough, but the pressure froze my brain like a blue norther. I had been humiliated.

“Yeah, Hitler,” Dougie jeered.

Officer Morris walked in a circle as if this might give him a chance to make sense out of it all. “Do you know this is Mr. Pierson’s warehouse?”

Dougie said, “So?”

Officer Morris said, “Well, he’s one of the richest men in Texas.”

I stepped back from Officer Morris. I had never seen Mr. Pierson, but along with Mr. Skinner who owned the bank and a lot more, they were the richest men in the world. There was no way Mr. Pierson could be a Nazi.

Dougie swelled up and glared at Officer Morris then at me. “Maybe the Nazis are using the warehouse and Mr. Pierson doesn’t know about it.”

Officer Morris grabbed me with a hand big as a catcher’s mitt. “You boys are the biggest troublemakers in Carrville. No make it the worst boys Carrville has ever produced.” He lifted us both up by our necks and dragged us down the ramp to the police car.

From across the street Mr. Bauer yelled, “Them is the boys that rode my milk goat across my zinnia bed.”

Officer Morris whirled on the old man. “Mr. Bauer, I’m sure they did. They’re behind all the trouble in Carrville. I’ll take your complaint later. Right now, the FBI wants to talk to them.”

For the first time since I have known Dougie, he shut up. His hands trembled and he turned white around his mouth. He tried to swallow but his mouth was too dry. I knew because I was having the same problem.

On the trip to the warehouse, I had looked out the window, but now I scrunched down in the seat that drunks had peed in and didn’t care.

The ride back to the police station was the shortest three blocks I had ever ridden. Officer Morris pulled the Ford under the pecan tree and jumped from the car. It is frightening to see a 300-pound policeman jump from a patrol car and take the steps up to the police station like a frightened mountain goat. I knew if Officer Morris was in a hurry either there was a big problem or Muller’s bakery had just turned out a new batch of doughnuts.

“Do you think we could get away?” Dougie asked.

I leaned over and whispered, “If you try to run, I’ll tell everyone you kissed Maybell Sampson in the movie last week.”

Dougie’s eyebrows shot up. “You wouldn’t.”

“Try me.” I glared.

I could see him weighing the discipline we were going to get against the entire school knowing he kissed the ugliest girl in seven counties.

He turned and opened his mouth.

“Demmie will be my witness,” I said. I knew the only boy he was truly afraid of was Democrat Watts, the biggest boy in elementary school and bigger than most junior high school boys. And to make matters worse, Demmie collected snakes.

Dougie just sat there and chewed on the inside of his cheek. Anytime he chewed on his cheek and didn’t talk he was scared.

Officer Morris and a Yankee stepped down the steps to the patrol car. I knew he was a Yankee because he had on a coat and tie in August. Perspiration rolled down his face like water cascading over Town Lake damn.

“You boys get out of the car,” Officer Morris ordered.

The Yankee stepped back to allow the car door to open. As he moved, I could see why he wore the coat. A shoulder holster held a revolver under his right armpit.

Chief Eckstein and officer Morris had their guns in holsters on their hips all the time. Ranger Purvis had a .45 automatic on his hip, but this man had a revolver in a shoulder holster like the movies.

Officer Morris said, “Boys, this is Sam Tullar. He’s an FBI man and he wants to talk to you.”

I knew it was serious because Officer Morris was talking quietly. The only time I had seen him talk below a bellow was earlier in the afternoon when he discussed the FBI with the chief.

I hated Uncle Jessie but living with him looked better than being arrested by the FBI for treason. Officer Morris had threatened us and now he was turning us over to the FBI.

Sam Tullar said, “Boys, this is important. Are you both patriotic Americans?” His voice was smooth as Mr. King’s honey.

We both nodded, too frightened to speak.

Agent Tullar said, “I’m going to trust you boys with a secret. For security reasons we need you to not talk about any of what happened today.” His honey voice took on a sterner tone, which made me think there was a stinger if the honey didn’t work.

Officer Morris stepped in. “If I hear of you boys talking about this I’m coming after you.”

I fought the urge to laugh at the image of Officer Morris climbing up to my tree house. Then I grew somber when I figured out he could shake us out of it.

“Yes, sir,” I blurted.

Dougie found his voice. “You can count on me, but Burr is kind of a sissy and like a girl and you know how they talk.”

I didn’t care if he could whip me. When we got away from the FBI and the cops, I was going to bop him.

The stupid fool FBI agent leaned down and talked slow like I was some dumb kid. “Why do they call you Burr?”

I glanced at officer Morris and swallowed my first response. “My daddy said I was like a chuckle burr in a mule’s tail. Not good for anything. Just waiting to stick the mule and make trouble.”      

Agent Tullar glanced at officer Morris as if to ask what that meant then shrugged. “How about that, Burr are you like a girl?”

“No, sir. Dougie’s a little retarded and you have to discount anything he says.” I knew that would guarantee a fight, but I didn’t care. My honor was at stake.

The FBI man whirled in a circle like he had just tried to explain how an airplane works to a hick from up at the head...