I opened the logbook... and wrote Case Number 43 -- Stop the Traitors!

It is 1942 and America has been at war with Germany and Japan for a year.  Overseas, the military is preparing to launch a counterattack against the enemies' shores.  At home, civilians are rationing to help provide scarce resources to the war effort.  Black markets have sprung up with the use of fake ration books and stamps.

When fake ration stamps appear in Gander's Cove, Crime Stopper Agent 3, Flannery Banes, is thrown into the middle of the investigation.  She soon discovers most of the town seems to be involved, including her own father!

It is up to Flannery and the Crime Stopper Club to discover the ringleader and...

Stop the Traitors!

One

I heard voices. Familiar voices. The sharp and quick-to-the-point tone of those voices pulled me closer to my father’s study door. Eavesdropping was part of my job as a Crime Stopper. Whenever my father, Mr. Banes the Air Raid Warden, and his number one spotter, Uncle Lars, talked behind closed doors, they were on the lookout for someone... or something... or both.

“Have you read the headlines?” I heard Father ask Uncle Lars.

“The warning has been on the radio all morning.”

“What about Shaw?”

“Nothing yet.”

“Pearl’s nephew from Connecticut?”

“He was fired for stealing printing supplies.”

“When is he expected to arrive in Gander’s Cove?”

“My informant said, ‘sometime today.’” Uncle Lars sighed.

I needed to hear more because the Widow was on the Crime Stoppers Watch List, but the smell of coffee drifted down the hall. I heard dishes rattling, like a cup being set on a saucer. Then came the pitter-patter of Mother’s footsteps. I cut my surveillance short, grabbed my coat, and sneaked out the door.

I went straight to the Crime Stoppers’ headquarters. I climbed up the ladder and crawled inside Bristol’s tree house. He tossed the Front Page Comics. “You’re late, CS-3,” he said as the newspaper fell in Sam’s lap.

“Couldn’t be helped,” I said and sat next to Sam. He held out his father’s compass, which pointed north.

Henry kept on reading about vampires. Bristol called the Crime Stoppers’ meeting to order.

Henry snapped his book closed. He tucked it inside his coat pocket.

We placed our fists on top of each other’s and recited the Crime Stoppers’ oath. Then I told them about the conversation that I’d heard between my father and uncle.

“What was the nephew going to print?” asked Sam.

“Good question,” Bristol said.

I picked up the newspaper and read. “Listen to this: ‘Black Market Impacts the War! Printing and Selling Fake Ration Stamps flood the Eastern Seaboard’!”

The paragraph below the headlines read:

“President Roosevelt has asked that all Americans help put an end to our goods being sold on the black market.”

Bristol took the paper from me. “That could be the warning that Lars and the Warden were talking about.”

“Has to be,” said Henry said.

“What does it mean?” asked Sam.

“Crooks are selling fake ration stamps,” I said.

“Or paying storekeepers like Mr. Shaw not to take stamps from their ration books,” said Henry.

“Traitors, Sam. They’re traitors of the worst kind. When people take more than the government says is their share, they’re stealing supplies from the Front. They’re stealing from your father and mine,” said Bristol.

Sam still looked puzzled.

“It’s like this,” I told Sam. “America has people living in the States and people fighting in Europe. The president has to feed us all. That’s why we have to use the stamps to buy gas and food.”

Sam did the lip-roll-nod, but I wasn’t certain that he understood. I took six marbles from my purse and made two lines of three marbles in each line. “Think of the marbles as food. Line one is for Americans on the Homefront. Line two is for Americans fighting in war. Bristol, Henry, and I, each have a government issued ration stamp to buy one food marble each.”

Sam nodded. Bristol, Henry, and I each picked up a food marble from line one. I tore the corners from two pages in the logbook and gave one to Henry and one to Bristol.

“Now, Sam, pretend the corners of paper are fake ration stamps that I’ve sold to Bristol and Henry.”

Bristol and Henry each picked up a marble from the remaining three and left the fake stamps to be turned into the government.

“That is all the food left to send to our fathers,” said Bristol.

Sam picked up the last marble. He squeezed the marble tight, and held out his fist.

“Stop the traitors!” Bristol’s fist topped Sam’s, then Henry’s. My fist thumped last.

I opened the logbook, AKA my diary, and wrote Case Number 43-- Stop the traitors!