Genre: MG Boy Police Detective Mystery
CODE NAME: Eddie Red
JOB: Police Sketch Artist
ASSIGNMENT: Crack the biggest art robbery case New York City has ever seen
When eleven-year-old Edmund Lonnrot is offered a job at the NYPD, he becomes Eddie Red, a kid spy armed with paper, sketching coal, and…an iPod. His task is simple: stake out the city’s art museums, catalog the faces in his photographic memory, draw pictures of anyone suspicious. An easy gig, right?
Wrong. From fighting off alley cats with a taser, to cross-dressing as a Girl Scout in order to infiltrate a crime ring, Eddie finds himself in some crazy predicaments. He teams up with his hyper best friend Jonah, an “active boy,” which is his mother’s polite way of saying that Jonah is never allowed near her china cabinet unsupervised again. Together they set out to solve the complex crime involving city maps, geometric patterns, and chess moves, all on a rollercoaster ride of suspenseful twists and comedic surprises. In the end will Eddie save the day, or will the notorious art thief Lars Heinrich elude the police yet again?
And if you think police work is tough, try being the only puny black kid in the sixth grade.
“State your name.”
The officer looks up at me and frowns. “State your real name. For the police report.” He jabs a meaty finger at the paperwork in front of him.
“Edmund Lonnrot,” I reply, making sure to keep my voice steady despite my wobbly insides. Worst. Night. Ever.
“I suppose you have a middle name?” he says on a sigh.
He sighs again and rubs his temples, clearly counting to ten in his head like he’s supposed to when it comes to dealing with children.
“Alright, Mr. ‘O Xavier’, here’s how this works: I’m going to tell you what we know, and then you’re going to tell me what you know. I expect your full cooperation.”
“We have an unconscious detective in the hospital. We’ve got a smashed van, two suspects in bad shape, and more suspects on the run. And we’ve got you, a material witness covered in blood. Does that sound about right?”
I nod again. Misery.
He sits back in his chair, tapping a pen on the desk. I half expect him to shine one of those bright lights in my eyes like they do in the movies. Instead he just starts chewing on the pen cap, swishing it around in his mouth, saliva and all. He sort of resembles a cow chomping on its cud only I don’t mention this because policemen don’t enjoy being compared to farm animals. Like the time when I asked Detective Bovano why people call cops pigs, and he turned a shade of purple similar to the man who is glaring at me now.