by Carol Pack
“C’mon, Johanna. No one’s going to think he’s anything but an actor. Do you know how crazy people would sound if they said Impervio landed in the library, and acted like they actually believed it?”
Johanna stared at Jackson but didn’t respond. He made sense, and his observations, for the most part, seemed sound. She thought of the impromptu speech he had given after Impervio landed in front of the room full of guests. Jackson had effectively provided instant damage control.
The teenager dug deep into his pocket and took out the remaining doubloons. “Here.”
She took one. “This is for the library, to cover the costs of tonight’s event.”
“What about these?”
“I don’t want you to get any bright ideas about using library books for personal gain. However, I think you should use those to help your family. Just be careful about cashing them.”
“I’ll be careful. I swear.”
“There you go swearing again. It’s becoming a habit with you.”
“It’s pretty late. Can I go home now?”
“Yes, but be careful. You never know if that crazy pawnbroker is going to suddenly appear.”
Across town, Larry Farmer fumed. He could not understand how he had lost control of what should have been a simple situation. All he wanted the kid to do was show him where he had found the doubloons. But the kid was greedy. He had no respect for his elders and made Larry look like a fool. Plus, Larry had lost his gun in the process. No matter. He had plenty of firepower in the back.
He pawed through a box of handguns until he found a Saturday night special. Someone had to put that young hoodlum in his place. He regretted that he never asked the kid to fill out paperwork. That meant he had no address for him. But now that he knew the kid worked at the library, he figured he could find him there.
Anyone who plannedto hock something at Once A-Pawn A Time the following day was out of luck. At 7:00 a.m. Larry parked an old car someone had abandoned at his shop years before on a side street across from the library. He had a direct view of the front door. He picked up the steaming cup of coffee he had purchased at a local convenience store and gulped the liquid down, cursing because the hot coffee burned his tongue and throat. Some spilled on him, burning his hands, and he threw the cup on the floor. The coffee slowly seeped into the vehicle’s carpeting, making the car stink.It’s the kid’s fault, but he’ll get his due.
Hours passed, but no one entered or exited the library. Larry’s eyelids felt like lead weights had been built into them. He had been up all night planning his revenge, and now Morpheus had come a-calling. The pawnbroker struggled to remain awake, but without coffee, he fought a losing battle. His lids slammed shut, and he slept for hours.
The sky had darkened to a deep navy by the time Larry woke up. He saw the light go out in the vestibule of the library and figured he had awakened just in time, but no one exited the building. Exhausted, Larry eventually gave up and drove home.
It took Larry an additional hour to find the Library of Illumination on Friday morning. He thought he knew how to get there and was angry that he arrived after nine. He parked his car in the same spot that he had parked in the previous day. He had another cup of coffee with him, but it had sufficiently cooled before he got around to drinking it. Someone had to eventually show up at the door of the library. When he or she did, Larry would make his move.
Exeter High School held Parent-Teacher Conference Day on Friday, and all classes had been suspended.
Jackson had big plans for the day. As soon as his mother left, he went to a home-improvement store and bought several gallons of paint as well as the supplies he would need to fix up the exterior of the house. When he returned, his best friend, Logan, and two of their buddies were already waiting to help. He had promised to pay them for their work and figured, if they could each paint one side of the small house, they could finish the job before his mother returned.
Jackson placed a ladder against the facade and started scraping away the worst of the old paint. His friends removed the shutters that were still attached and sanded them down. It took them most of the morning just to prepare everything, and a few hours more to paint the exterior and replace the trim.
“The house looks great,” the mailman called out.
Jackson smiled. He happily paid each of his friends and then sat on the front steps, waiting to see the look on his mother’s face when she returned. He was glad he had told Johanna what he planned to do and asked for the day off. He felt really good inside, something he hadn’t felt since his father walked out.
Mrs. Roth stared at the house. She looked around to make sure she was on the right block. She spotted her son sitting on the front stoop, smiling at her. Tears prickled her nose. Overcome with emotion, she began to cry.
Jackson ran over and threw his arms around his mother. “Don’t cry. If I knew you wouldn’t like it, I would never have done it.”
That made her laugh and cry at the same time. “Not like it? I love it. But the money.”
“It’s money I made at the library.”
She shook her head slightly, looking confused. “But you’ve given me most of the money you made at the library.”
“Right, this was another ... uh ... bonus that I made from cleaning up after a party.”
“I guess you’re the man of the house now, Jackson.” More tears rolled down her face. “And you’re doing a very good job,” she added as she hugged him.
Larry jiggled his knee. It kept bumping up against the steering wheel, which made the whole car shake. How could these people run a library if they never showed up for work?
The kid had said he found the doubloons behind the building. Larry got out of the car and looked for an alley next to the building. When he couldn’t find one, he walked around the block, looking for an entrance to one. He arrived back at the same spot without seeing a back alley.It’s too dark to see anything. I’ll look again tomorrow.
Heavy clouds drifted so low in the sky on Saturday morning that even though the sun was up, it looked like the middle of the night. That might have explained why Jackson overslept. Or it could have been the exhaustion he felt from all the work he had done the day before. Either way, when he saw the time, he jumped out of bed and grabbed his clothes. He wanted to get to the library as early as possible to make up for not working the previous afternoon.
With each passingday, the Library of Illumination became more and more difficult for the pawnbroker to find. The lack of sunshine and constant drizzle obscuring his vision didn’t help. By the time he finally pulled into his parking space, he could spit bullets.I better not be wasting another day.
He remembered the kid saying he parked his bike behind the library. Larry hit himself in the forehead three times with the palm of his hand.That’s why I never see them enter and leave. They must use the back alley.
He got out of his car and went for another walk around the block. He made a full revolution and still did not see a driveway that opened onto the back of the library, just a narrow, metal gate attached to a townhouse on the opposite side of the block. He retraced his steps to get a better look at it. The gate had a latch instead of a lock, with a tiny brass plaque above it, engraved with the wordsLibrary of Illumination. Larry grinned.Pay dirt!
The library had always appeared to be cheery and bright inside, regardless of the weather outdoors, but on this particular day, the usual warm glow from the windows was subdued. Johanna lit the fireplace to remove the chill from the air. When that failed to work, she put on a sweater and vowed to call a heating specialist first thing Monday morning.
She wished she had a little heater in the antechamber where she repaired bindings. Restoring damaged books to their former glory was Johanna’s favorite job. She loved the feel of fine leather, the variety of intricate patterns on marbleized end papers, and the deep sense of satisfaction that washed over her whenever she finished a project. She put on her goggles and gently inspected the damage on a centur
ies-old copy of theNuremberg Chronicle. Some of the book’s signatures had come loose and needed to be hand-sewn. She inhaled the musty scent of the aging cotton bond. The illustrated book of world history had been printed in 1493, and her inspection showed it had previously been repaired, perhaps centuries ago.
Her concentration was broken by the distant sound of metal crashing.Jackson. He probably had just arrived, and his bike must have fallen against the dumpster. She reluctantly took off her goggles and got up to unlock the back door.
Jackson hated being late for work again, so he pedaled as fast as he could. But he was already behind schedule, and he still had a half mile to go. He hated himself for oversleeping. He knew Johanna had pegged him as immature and lazy, and he wanted to do everything in his power to prove that wasn’t true.
She had complimented his speech after the superhero incident, and that made him feel good. But he had unleashed a cartoon character in front of a roomful of people, which upset her. He sighed, annoyed that he hadn’t come up with a better plan to scare off the pawnbroker.
Johanna unlatched the back door and poked her head outside. “Jackson?”
“So that’s the kid’s name.”
Larry appeared from behind the door, and Johanna found herself staring at the gun in his hand.
“I sure hope you have a shovel handy,” he continued, “because you’re going to do a little digging for me.”
“I’m going to what?”
“Don’t play dumb with me. The kid already told me this is where he found the doubloons. And if there are any more of them out here, you’re going to find them for me.”
“What makes you think I have a shovel? The only person who ever comes back here is Jackson.”
“Suit yourself, Johanna. It’s okay with me if you want to dig with your bare hands. The rain is making the ground soft. It’ll be just like digging up mud pies.”
Her shoulders sagged.
“Or you can use the shovel I saw in the basement the other night, when I followed the kid down there.”
“I’ll get it,” she said.
Larry shoved his foot in the door to keep her from locking him out. “Not without me you won’t.” He waved his gun toward the wall containing the panel that led to the basement.
Jackson eyed theopen gate, certain that he had latched it the last time he was there.Johanna will kill me if she thinks I left the gate open. He looked down the alley and saw movement. The pawnbroker. He watched Larry push Johanna inside the library.
Jackson carefully walked to the building, his footsteps muffled by the rain. He quietly laid his bike down next to the dumpster and hoped Johanna and Larry were not standing near the back door when he gently pulled it open.
Eeeeeeeee. He had never gotten around to oiling the door hinge like Johanna had asked. He prayed the pawnbroker was deaf.
Larry’s head jerked. “Did you hear something?”
“No,” Johanna lied.
“Maybe it’s the kid?”
“He’s not working today.” She couldn’t believe how easily she had lied again. Must be self-preservation.
“Yeah? Then why’d you say ‘Jackson’ before when you stuck your head out the back door?”
“I heard a noise and didn’t know who else it could be.”
Larry walked to the stairs. “Jackson,” he shouted, “if you don’t want me to put a bullet through the pretty little librarian’s head, you’ll come down here now, with your hands up. You’ve got five seconds ... four ... three ... two ... one. Come out, come out, wherever you are,” he finished in a singsong voice.
There wasn’t as much as a squeak.
“He’s not here,” Johanna repeated as she stared at the gun.
“Find me that shovel. I know it’s down here somewhere. I saw it with my own eyes.”
“If you know where it is, why don’t you find it?”
“Because, sweetheart, this isn’t my library. It’s yours. So move your pretty little ass.”
Jackson slowly exhaled. He tiptoed behind a stack, so he wouldn’t be seen if Larry came upstairs. As he listened for further movement from below, his eyes settled on the screenplay for the filmDirty Dirk Daily.
He wondered if he could reason with Dirk, quietly, before the pawnbroker came back up.Stop thinking and start doing! He opened the cover.
Dirk appeared with his gun drawn. Jackson made the universal sign for quiet by putting his finger over his lips. Dirk scowled but said nothing.
Jackson whispered, “Look, this has nothing to do with the Thriller Killer. You’re in the Library of Illumination, and a man is holding the curator at gunpoint. He wants her to dig for doubloons that don’t exist, and when he doesn’t find any, he may go nuts and kill her.”
—LOI—
CHAPTER FIVE
Dirty Dirk Daily scratched his chin. “How do you know this has nothing to do with my current case?” he asked evenly.
Jackson handed him the screenplay. “Because you’re a character from a film, and she’s not in there.”
Dirk looked at the title page. “‘Dirty’ implies I’m a dirty cop. I’m not, you know. I just do whatever it takes to get the bad guys off the streets.”
“And I’m hoping that’s what you do right now. Just subdue this guy, and then you can return to your case in this script.”
Dirk stared at the open pages. “I guess that explains it.”
“Explains what?”
“My whole world begins and ends with the Thriller Killer. I have some knowledge of what came before, but no real memories or feelings. And I can’t seem to get beyond the big shootout. I often wonder if maybe I’m really the one who dies in the end ...”
Dirk turned at the sound of Larry and Johanna coming up the stairs.
The pawnbroker’s voice carried. “If the kid is hiding out up here, I’m going to shoot you, and then I’m going after him. So you’d better tell him to show himself now, or else.”
“Jackson?” Johanna shouted, even though her voice quaked. “Don’t come out. If anything happens to me, find Mal’s diary. It’ll explain everything.”
Larry grabbed her shoulder and spun her around to face him. She could see him turning purple. “Lady, what are you doing?” he screamed.
Whoosh. Ping. Clatter!Dirk shot the pistol out of the pawnbroker’s hand.
Larry turned, surprised.
“I’ll just bet you’re wondering ...” Dirk began.
Johanna slowly edged away.
“Dirty Dirk Daily?” Larry stared in disbelief as the fictional detective spouted the most memorable dialogue of his movie.
Jackson snuck around Larry and grabbed the pawnbroker’s pistol off the floor.
Larry got a look at the film cop’s heavy-duty firearm and started to sweat.
Dirk continued his monologue.
Johanna snuck up behind the pawnbroker and brought the big, brass gong down on his head.
Larry crumpled to the ground, unconscious.
Dirk looked quizzically at Johanna. “I wasn’t done. I’m supposed to save the day.”
“Don’t worry, you did,” she said. “Jackson, grab some plastic cable ties from the utility closet and bind Larry’s hands and legs.”
The teen wasted no time making sure the pawnbroker stayed immobilized.
“Thank you, Dirk.” Johanna smiled as she picked up the script and closed it. The detective disappeared. “I’d better call the police.”
“How are we going to explain the doubloons to them?” Jackson asked Johanna.
“The ones we found outside in the dirt?” There was a hint of conspiracy in her voice.
“Right.” He dug his hand into his pocket and removed the three remaining doubloons. “What about these?”
“I suggest you wait a while before trying to cash them.”
“I don’t want them.”
“They helped you fix up your mother’s house and buy medicine.”
“They also nearly got you killed.”
&nbs
p; “Jackson. It’s okay if you keep them.”
“Johanna. I don’t want them.”
“Come with me, then.” She walked over to the shelf containingTreasure Island. She looked at the pawnbroker to make sure he was still out cold. “We have to work fast. As soon as I open the cover, place the doubloons on the page.”
They each did their respective task, and Johanna snapped the book shut before any pirates could take shape. She held it up, and they inspected it. There was no telltale bulge where the doubloons should have been.
“Where are they?” Jackson asked.
“Back where they belong.”
Someone began banging on the walls of the vestibule.
“That must be the police,” she said. “You’d better let them in.”
When Johanna spoketo the responding officers, she used the wordlunaticmore than once. By the time she finished recounting how Larry had disturbed a private book reading and tried to hold someone hostage and how the “lunatic” forced his way into the library at gunpoint earlier that day, the pawnbroker regained consciousness. He began defending his actions to the police, telling them about pirate doubloons, Impervio the Indestructible, and Dirty Dirk Daily.
One of the cops rolled his eyes. “We’ll probably have to take this guy for a psychiatric evaluation at County Hospital. He’s not making a whole lot of sense.”
“Does that mean you’re not going to lock him up?” Johanna asked.
“Don’t worry. The locks at County are just as strong as the ones in our jail.”
When the police finally left, Johanna’s knees turned to rubber, and she collapsed on the sofa.
“Why didn’t you mention me by name?” Jackson asked.
“So you wouldn’t have to lie to them.”
“You did a great job explaining everything. It sounded totally reasonable, even though you left out a few things. And then the pawnbroker told them all the stuff you left out. And now they think he’s nuts.”
