“Hey, you’re back!” he said.
Cooper looked puzzled. “Excuse me?”
“You’re back! I thought you were heading to Newark!”
“Newark? I don’t know what—”
Then Cooper understood, and his mouth fell open.
“Wait, you’ve smelled this before?” He waved the crumpled library flyer in the air in front of the man.
“Yeah, sure. You were here two days ago. I may not be able to see faces anymore, but I never forget a smell!”
The rest of the group moved closer when they heard this, and Cooper turned to them in astonishment. Then he turned back to the musician.
“I wasn’t here two days ago, sir, but my friends and I believe someone else was. Someone we need to find very badly.”
The guitarist’s smile faded away. “Oh…. Is he in any kind of trouble?”
“He might be,” Mr. C. cut in. “Why did you think he was heading to Newark?”
“Because he asked me where I learned how to play, and I told him at the Institute of Jazz Studies in Newark. It’s part of Rutgers University.”
“And what did he say to that?” Cooper asked.
The musician shook his head. “Nothing.”
“Nothing?”
“Nope. After that he was gone. I could tell right away.” He sniffed the air quick, then tapped the side of his nose with his finger. “The nose knows best, my friends. The nose knows best.”
Everyone laughed. Then Cooper said, “The Institute of Jazz Studies—that has to be where he went next!”
“And I know exactly where it is!” Maya said.
Mr. C. clapped his hands and said. “Well, what are we waiting for? Let’s get moving!”
Excited all over again, the group thanked the musician for being so helpful and headed straight for the bookmobile.
Once everyone was seated, Jamal patted Cooper on the shoulder and said, “Well done—General.” The others nodded and smiled. A few even saluted him.
Cooper never looked so happy in his life.
