BBuucccca a nneeeer r ss,,BBr r iig g a a nnddss,,a a nnddBBa a nnddiit t ss!!
HEN HIS ALARM CLOCK
rang violently, Pete Crenshaw opened one eye andgroaned. Only the second week of summer vacation and already he wished bitterlythat he’d never agreed to do yard work for his next-door neighbours while they wereaway on a trip. But the funds of the junior detective agency to which he belonged wereat an all-time low after an end-of-school trip to Disneyland, and the team neededsummer money. The other two sleuths had also been put to work: Bob Andrews had apart-time job at the library, and Jupiter Jones had reluctantly agreed to work extrahours at The Jones Salvage Yard, where he lived with his aunt and uncle.With a final groan, Pete crawled out of bed and hurried into his clothes. When hedragged himself into the kitchen, he saw that his father was already having breakfast.“Too early for you, Pete?” Mr. Crenshaw said, grinning.“Got to do that dumb yard work,” Pete grumbled as he got his orange juice fromthe refrigerator.“Summer money, eh? Well, maybe there’s an easier way. This was left in ourmailbox last night.”Mr. Crenshaw put a yellow sheet of paper at Pete’s place as the boy sat down.Pete glanced at the paper while he drank his juice. It was one of those advertisingflyers that local businesses pay to have delivered house to house. As Pete read hisexcitement grew:
Lovers of adventure! Historians!Bookworms! Descendants of pirates!
The Society for Justice to Buccaneers, Brigands, Bandits,and Bushwhackers will pay
$25 an hour
to anyone who canreport detailed information about local pirates, bandits,highwaymen, and other colourful miscreants of California’slusty past.Come to 1995, De La Vina Street any day of the week,June 18-22, from 9 to 5.
“Wow!” Pete yelled. “We can make a fortune, Dad! I mean, we know a lot aboutold-time crooks around here, especially Jupiter! I’ve got to show this to Jupe and Bobright away. Today’s the eighteenth, and it’s almost eight already!”“Whoa,” Mr. Crenshaw said. “Before you become a millionaire, finish yourbreakfast.”“Dad! I have to water the lawn, then—”