horror at the prospect of being a farmhand. From Maggie’s giggle, I was only 17 percent sure I succeeded.
“Is there more?” I asked with dread.
Mother’s face became solemn. “Yes. The police need to speak with you.”
Event: Yet Another Interrogation
Date: Nov. 8 (Wed.)
I’d had several talks with Chief Kaufman in recent weeks, but she always came to the farm. The fact that she asked my parents to bring Ishmael and me to the police station distressed me.
Before we left the house, Ishmael pulled me aside.
“Hey, dude, I think you should let me take one for the team, okay?”
I frowned. “Pardon?”
“You have this bright future ahead of you, you know? Like, you can’t have a record. And we both know you’re in this situation because of me.”
“Are you offering to take the blame for everything?”
“Well, yeah,” Ishmael said with a shrug.
I stared at my brother for a long time. “You may have started it, but I was there every step of the way. We were always in this together. And we will be until the end.”
Ishmael began to protest, but I firmly told him the discussion was over.
At the station we were led to Kaufman’s office. Agent Ruiz was already there, sitting in one of the two chairs across from Kaufman’s desk. When we entered the room, he stood and motioned for Ishmael and me to sit. He leaned causally against the wall and watched us.
“I’ll find seats for you,” Kaufman told Mother and Father, who hovered behind us.
“We’re okay,” Father replied. I could hear the apprehension in his voice. He wanted to get the meeting over with as much as I did.
Kaufman took a breath and folded her hands in front of her. She looked back and forth between my brother and me. “You two have had an interesting few months.”
Ishmael smiled sheepishly, as if this was fallout from one of his usual pranks and not much, much more serious.
“Why don’t you tell us everything from the beginning,” Kaufman suggested. “The truth this time.”
Behind me, Father cleared his throat. “Are the boys going to need a lawyer, Lisa?”
“That depends,” Kaufman replied.
“On?”
“On how willing they are to cooperate.”
My eyes flickered to Agent Ruiz. I wondered why he was still in Lansburg, since the aliens had turned out to be a hoax.
As if reading my mind, Ruiz spoke: “The FBI’s been watching J. Quincy Oswald for some time. If your sons tell us everything they know about him, up until their involvement with the explosion, the Lansburg Police Department will reduce the charges against them.”
“And if they provide you with this information,” Mother said, “then what happens?”
Kaufman gave Ishmael and me a long look. “They’ll probably get off with community service and maybe a fine.”
I was optimistic but wary. It seemed too easy.
“But, like, isn’t Oz already in jail?” Ishmael asked. “Why do you need more info?”
Ruiz spoke up. “Because John Oswald has spent his life doing terrible things and we need to make sure we can keep him in jail for a long time.”
Something struck me. I spoke to Ruiz: “You were never here because of aliens, were you?”
“No.”
“You only showed up when Oswald did.”
“As I said, we’ve been watching him for a long time.”
I felt oddly defeated. Not that I wanted to be the subject of a federal investigation. But I’d actually thought my hoax was so brilliant it caught the eye of government authorities. It hadn’t, though. It never would have. It was Oswald from the start.
“So,” Kaufman said. “Do we have a deal?”
Ishmael shrugged agreeably. “I’m down.”
All eyes turned to me.
“Gideon,” Ruiz said, “Oswald has scammed a lot of people out of a lot of money. He conned you too, when he got you to turn that lava lamp on—and believe me, he didn’t hesitate to place all the blame for the explosion on you.”
“He admitted on my recording that he lied about the aliens and the elixir,” I said. “Why isn’t that enough?”
“Because lying about aliens isn’t a crime, and the elixir hasn’t been sold yet. He didn’t admit to falsifying claims about any of the products already on the market.”
Oh. I’d overlooked that part. I’d overlooked a lot of things.
I couldn’t help but feel they were grasping at straws, searching for anything that would keep Oswald behind bars. Not unlike what happened to Al Capone. (Al Capone (1899–1947): a notorious gangster who, though suspected in numerous crimes—including murder—eventually went to prison for tax evasion.)
I did have something to give Kaufman and Ruiz though, information they might be