Chereads / Teenage Crime Busters: The Trident Gang / Chapter 3 - The Police Are Idiots

Chapter 3 - The Police Are Idiots

Devin Verlay

I bite my lip, staring at my bulletin board in front of me, which is covered in crime articles. Don't get the wrong idea, though. I just like researching this type of stuff. It hasn't been two minutes into the call and Robyn's already roped me into a crazy plan of hers. I sigh into the receiver and flip open my laptop.

"A trident gang?" I ask, putting my phone down and adjusting my wireless earpiece, tapping at a few controls on my computer.

"Yeah." Robyn answers. A page ruffles on her side as I type. I wonder what she's doing. I hit 'Enter' on the laptop. Almost instantly, more than five million results pop up, and I breathe out in astonishment.

"So? What did you get?" Robyn's voice comes over the line.

"Working on it." I answer. "The ringleader is J.C. Prackett, and is still at large. Goes by the name of Hang. Their trademark trident sign has been showing up all over town, and people are getting nervous…" I trail off and scroll a bit more. "Nothing much. Just a police report on the gang."

Robyn groans, and I picture her massaging her eyelids, like she always does when she's frustrated.

"Anything about a vaporizing ray gun case?"

"Uh…" I scan the page. "Just something about a brawl and some 'Jonah Ebbins' getting evaporated."

"I, um, happen to be an eyewitness to that." Robyn says nervously.

"What?" I answer, shocked. "Then why didn't you go to the police?"

"Well, the guns were legal, so I assumed that the crime was legal. Anyway, it's been five years since the fight. They'll think I'm nuts or something and lock me in a rubber cell."

"Legal? Who ever heard of a legal crime?" I demand.

"Give me a break. We'll go to the police station tomorrow." she snaps.

"I'll call in backup." I answer, ending the call and punching in Eddie's number. Taking a deep breath, I try to imagine how practical, down-to-earth, genius Edison Armand would react when he heard about this.

"Hey, Ed." I say slowly.

"Hi!" Ed answers, his voice slightly garbled. "Pretzels," he says by way of explanation. "What's up?"

"Robyn wants us to go to the police station with her tomorrow to track down the leader of the Trident Gang." I cut straight to the point. No use trying to sugarcoat something so drastic.

Silence on the other end of the line. I hear some muffled choking in the background, and soon he's back on the phone.

"That straight?" He asks slowly.

"Yep." I answer, waiting anxiously.

"Well, that's foolish, stupid, idiotic, life-threatening, unintelligent, ignorant, dense, brainless, mindless, empty-minded, moronic, dim, cretinous, pig-minded, daft, dotty, loopy, mad, insane, nutty, loony, and absolutely gormless!" He explodes. I wince.

"Is Erika coming?" he finally asks. Erika Combing, the oldest of our lot, was wild but organized.

"Let me see." I respond, briskly hanging up and dialing Erika's number. Upon her picking up, I repeat my message and get back to Ed and Robyn as fast as I can with the answer: yes. The entire team is in.

Fidgeting, I shake out my shoulders and step out the door, carefully pedaling away on my bike. Once I turn off my street, I practically tear up the pavement, pedaling as hard as I can. I am late. Robyn is going to kill me. I screech to a halt outside of the police station. Robyn, Ed and Erika are all waiting. I leap off my bike and park it, charging up to them.

"You're. Late." Robyn says, her dark eyes practically spitting fire.

"Well, I'm here, aren't I?" I retort. "Let's get this over with." We walk up the stairs to the police station. Inside, there is a paunchy guard sprawled behind the desk, his cap over his eyes. Erika marches right over and pokes his shoulder, hard. He wakes with a snort, looking miffed.

"What?" He asks roughly, resettling his cap on his head.

"We have information on the Trident Gang case." Erika responds, glancing at Robyn. The guard nods, still looking bored. He yawns elaborately, then gets up and strolls down the hallway. I make a small sound of rage in the back of my throat, glaring at his fat back, resisting the urge to snatch up the binder sitting on his desk and stuff it into his eye. Robyn shoots me a look, and we follow him. He directs us into a room and goes off to get the person in charge of the case. Soon he comes back with the man in charge and shuts the door.