by James Leck
“He was on the short side, Sarge, but I didn’t get a look at his face. And, no, I didn’t follow him,” he said. “My orders were to follow Cain.”
“I don’t think you’re going to get that promotion you were looking for, Thorn,” I said.
“My orders were to follow Cain,” he said, standing at attention.
“Fine, fine, go on.”
“Cain then met with two other individuals.”
“Who?”
“Mike Anderson, aka Mike the Bookie, and Ronny Kutcher. They sat at a booth together for about twenty minutes, had a few laughs and then Cain left and went back home for the rest of the evening.”
“Okay. All right,” I said, nodding.
“What’s our next move, Sarge?”
“Stand down,” I said. “I’ll take it from here.”
“You can’t yank me off a mission that easily, Lime. I’ll stand back, but I’ll be watching,” he said, pointing at his eyes. “I’ll be watching,” he repeated, and then he ran to the end of the porch and dove over the railing. I heard him crash on the other side. By the sound of his screams, I was guessing he landed in one of Grandma’s thorn-infested rosebushes.
“Are you okay, Max?” I called.
“Fine,” he croaked, limping around the corner of the house. “I’ll be watching,” he repeated, and then he slowly disappeared into the darkness.
Friday, November 1, 8:14 a.m.
2 Pluto Court, Iona High
I was formulating a complicated sting that I was hoping would help me take down Cain and his crew when I walked into school the next day and ran into a giant galoot from the football team named Jerry Pyle. Jerry was three times my size and knocked me on the floor.
“You should watch where you’re going, Lime,” he said, standing over me.
“I got caught thinking about something, Jerry,” I said, standing up and dusting myself off. I’d done a job for Jerry’s little brother last spring. It was an open-and-shut case, but Jerry had been pleased as punch that I’d helped him out. So I was a little surprised to see him looking down at me like he was about to squish a bug.
“Well, maybe you shouldn’t do so much thinking,” Jerry said.
“Huh?” I said.
“And you can forget about collecting that favor Tommy owes you, big guy. You stay away from him if you know what’s good for you. You got it?”
“Sure,” I mumbled, as Jerry stalked off.
I turned, took about a dozen steps and got shoved into the lockers.
“You think you’re real clever, don’t you, Lime?” This time a cat named Billy Stevens was sticking his nose in my face. “You think we’re all a bunch of chumps, don’t you? Well, why don’t you take your crime show back to LA where it belongs.”
“What are you talking about, Billy?” I said, pushing him away from me.
But it wasn’t just Billy giving me the squeeze — there were five or six other mooyuks crowding in behind him, and they all looked mad as heck.
He pushed me back against the lockers, and my head snapped against the metal hard enough to make my eyes go buggy. “What, are you going to pretend to fall asleep now?”
“Back off,” I said, and gave him a hard shove this time, but his friends caught him and they all started pressing in on me again.
It was looking pretty grim when Lance Munroe burst through the crowd with his fists up. “You’re going to have to go through me first!” he said. Lance might be a pretty boy, but being the school’s star quarterback commands respect, so Billy and his friends started to back off.
“You’re lucky your boyfriend’s here,” Billy said. “But he can’t watch your back 24/7. We’ll be seeing you soon, Lime.”
Lance grabbed my shoulder and dragged me into an empty hallway.
“What’s going on?” I asked. “Has everyone gone loony?”
“It’s the video, Jack,” he said.
“What video?”
“Somebody posted a video of you online and made it look like you stole Tyler Butt’s comic book.”
“That’s Sebastian Cain or one of his cronies,” I said. “And people actually believe that hoo-ha?”
“Well, it is online,” he said, “and it gets worse, too, Jack. They kind of made it seem like you’ve been behind all the crimes at Iona High. Like you’ve been committing them so you can solve them, and then you end up looking like a big hero.”
“What a bunch of baloney,” I grumbled.
“I know it’s baloney. I know what you did for me, Jack, and I’m pretty sure you weren’t behind any of those other crimes, but a lot of people think it’s true. I think you should go home and lie low for a couple of days, maybe a whole week. At least until things get straightened out.”
“What, so people can drag my good name through the mud? I don’t think so, bub.”
“I’m only trying to help you, Jack.”
“Listen to me, Lance, I’m real close to cleaning up this mess, and when I do, people will know the truth. Plus, things can’t get any worse.”
“I don’t know, Jack, I think things could get worse, probably a lot worse.”
And then, right on cue, Mr. Snit’s voice came over the PA. “Would Jack Lime please report to the office. That’s Jack Lime, to the office. Immediately.”
“Say hello to Betty for me,” I said, and turned around.
“Go home, Jack,” Lance called as I walked away. “Go home until all this blows over!”
I’d be darned if I was going to run away now. This was just Cain playing his dirty version of hardball. Well, I could handle dirty. I could handle dirty just fine.
Friday, November 1, 8:24 a.m.
Iona High, Snit’s Office
“Close the door, Jack,” Snit said when I walked into his office, “and sit down. I want to talk to you about something I saw yesterday.”
“The video’s a hoax,” I said, sitting down. “I didn’t do it.”
“What are you talking about, Jack? I know you were involved. I saw it with my own two eyes.”
“Yeah, well,” I said, “sometimes your eyes can play tricks on you.”
“Look at this,” he said, swiveling one of two monitors he had on his desk toward me, “and tell me if my eyes are playing tricks on me.”
I was expecting to see an amateur-looking conspiracy video made by Cain and his merry band of fiendish friends. Instead I was looking at Tyler Butt and me facing off on the school’s front lawn. We were frozen in time for a second, and then Snit must’ve pressed Play because I heard myself say, “If you just give me a second to explain.” That’s when Tyler sprang at me like a hungry tiger at a sheep farm. I watched myself try to step out of the way, but not quickly enough, and I couldn’t help gingerly touching my nose when Tyler hit me in the video. Then I was blocking Butt’s punches, and doing a pretty good job of it, when Snit pressed Pause.
“Are my eyes playing tricks on me, Jack?” he asked.
“How did you record that?” I asked. “There are no security cameras here.”
“As you know, this school is owned and operated by Luxemcorp Incorporated, and they’ve been eager to install security cameras since this fine facility was built. However, as the principal, I felt that the cameras would invade the students’ privacy, and I’ve fought tooth and nail to keep them out of Iona High. Unfortunately, since Tyler Butt’s comic book was stolen, the folks at Luxemcorp have decided to install eight top-of-the-line security cameras at our school. They’re very eager to stop any future crimes.”
“Really,” I said.
“Yes, and they’ll be rolling twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week. I called you down to make sure that you’re okay and to let you know that we are aware of the incident that occurred with Tyler Butt and are taking the necessary steps to make sure it doesn’t happen again.”
&
nbsp; “What do you mean, ‘the necessary steps’?”
“Well, unfortunately it means that Mr. Butt has been permanently expelled from Iona High. So you can rest assured that he won’t be bothering you on school grounds again.”
“Wow, that makes me feel so much safer,” I said. “What about Bucky King?”
“I can’t comment on that, Jack, but I wanted to show you this video so you know, once and for all, that you can take a break from trying to police this school. Obviously we can handle that just fine without you. You can go back to focusing on your schoolwork. And, Jack, for the record, these cameras are supposed to be a secret. None of the students, including you, are supposed to know that they’ve been installed. Do you understand what I’m saying?”
“I understand,” I said. “I’ll keep it on the q.t.”
“Before you go, are you sure you’re all right?”
“I’m fine, Mr. Snit,” I said, standing up. “By the way, have they installed cameras at the middle school, too?”
“And the elementary,” he said.
“And they all have audio?”
“Only the finest for Luxemcorp. You can sleep easy, Jack — we’ll be one step ahead of the bad guys now.”
“I think you might be right, Mr. Snit,” I said. “I think you might be right.”
Friday, November 1, 12:45 p.m.
21 Titan Trail, Iona Middle School
I only got accosted about a half dozen times that morning by angry clods who had watched Cain’s video and bought his outrageous lies hook, line and sinker. But that didn’t faze me. I had bigger fish to fry and a plan that needed to be put into action. So at lunch I strolled over to Iona Middle School. The way I figured it, Ronny Kutcher was the weak link in all of this, and I wanted to see what I could wring out of him.
I arrived there about halfway through the lunch break and got comfortable under a big tree across the street. Ronny lived close enough to the school to go home for lunch, so I played the odds and waited to catch him coming back. He arrived about fifteen minutes before the bell rang, riding a red mountain bike. He pulled up to the fence on the side of the parking lot and locked it up. While he was doing that, I made a beeline for the front doors and scanned the walls for a hidden camera. I had to hand it to the suits at Luxemcorp — obviously they didn’t mind spending a few bucks on their surveillance equipment, and I was betting someone in the head office was excited about this cloak-and-dagger stuff. The tiny camera was encased in the wall just above the front door, between two bricks, and if Snit hadn’t told me they’d been installed, I never would’ve spotted it. By now Ronny was strolling toward the side of the school, whistling “Happy Birthday” and looking smug.
“Hello, Ronny,” I called, “fancy meeting you here.”
He stopped whistling and frowned. “What are you doing here, Lime?”
“I’m here to give you a last chance.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” he said, coming over to meet me.
“I’ve got a photo of you in the gym at Iona High about five seconds after Tyler Butts’s comic was stolen.”
“So what?” he said, his little eyes shifting from the left to the right.
“I’ll tell you so what, buster. That photo places you at the scene of the crime, and I’m willing to bet that I can find a few witnesses who would ID you as the sap that tripped up Tyler when he tried to go after the perp.”
“There’s no law against tripping someone,” he said.
“No,” I said, inching backward, a little closer to the camera, “but I’m sure you’re aware there is a rule against middle school students loitering at Iona High.”
“I just wanted to see the comics.”
“Well, that’s just the thing, Ronny. I’m going to have to show that photo to Mr. Snit and then he’s going to have to show it to your principal and then they’re going to start asking you questions. And I’m betting that a tyke like you won’t hold up all that well when you’re sitting in an office, feeling the squeeze from your principal. Especially when I throw in a few eyewitnesses who will confirm you were aiding and abetting a criminal like Sebastian Cain.”
Ronny’s mouth dropped open.
“Oh sure, I know Cain had the table next to the doors and was working the lights for this insidious operation. It’s only a matter of time before I can prove that Mike the Bookie was the one who snatched Tyler’s comic.”
“What … how … no …”
“Quit with the mumbling, Ron. It doesn’t suit someone of your diminutive stature. You shouldn’t’ve met with each other last night at Pop’s, not so soon after the crime. Plus, Mike’s my height and build. You cover him up in black and nobody would know the difference.”
“That doesn’t prove anything,” he said.
“Maybe, maybe not, but when I pull out that photo, the ball’s going to start rolling and it’s heading right at you, Ronny. One way or another, you’re getting squished, and that’s why I’m your last chance. You might be able to toss a bicycle in a river, but you’re not smart enough, or bold enough, to pull off a sting like this. So who’s the wizard behind the curtain? Is it Cain? Is it Mike?”
He giggled.
“Something funny?”
“You’re wrong again, Lime,” he said, grinning up at me.
“Who’s in charge, Ronny? Fess up or you’re going down.”
He giggled some more. I wanted to grab him and shake him a bit, but I’d lured him closer to that hidden camera for a reason and I couldn’t risk losing my cool.
“Spit it out, kid! I know it wasn’t you! You’re just a pint-sized pip-squeak that they used to trip up Tyler. So stop your snickering and spit it out!”
Ronny quit with the chuckling quick, fast, in a hurry. “You’re wrong! It wasn’t Mike or Cain or Bucky!” he said. “It was me, me and my friend. We planned it, we stole the comic and we pinned it on you, Limey. Mike and Cain were just following orders. They just did whatever … my friend told them to do.”
“What friend?” I said.
He smiled. “My friend is smart, Jack. Smarter than you. My friend knows about a lot of different things and is going to beat you and make you leave Iona forever.”
“I don’t have time for your kind of crazy, Ronny,” I said. “I guess I’m going to have to show Mr. Snit that photo, after all. Good luck with your nutty tale when you’re getting the squeeze from the powers that be.”
I pushed past Ronny and was starting down the stairs when an extremely tall black-haired lady wearing a navy blue suit came striding across the parking lot.
“Excuse me!” she called, barreling toward me. “What are you doing here?”
“He said he was going to beat me up!” Ronny cried, before I even had a chance to open my mouth.
“He was threatening me! He wanted money, Mrs. Snurt!” Ronny continued, blathering behind me.
“Who are you, young man?” she asked.
“Who are you?” I asked.
“I’m the principal here,” she said, glaring at me. “Now answer the question, who are you?”
“I’m Jack Lime.”
“The Jack Lime?” she said, her eyebrows shooting up.
“That’s right.”
“Well, I think we all need to step inside,” she said, practically sprinting up the stairs and opening the door. “Now!”
“My pleasure,” I said.
“He said he wanted twenty dollars or he’d beat me up,” Ronny said, rushing past me.
“Don’t worry, I’ll get to the bottom of this,” Snurt said, marching down the hallway.
She hustled down to the main office, told us to take a seat and turned to a blond woman who was sitting behind the desk, furiously typing away on a laptop.
“May I have a word with you, Ms. Van Kramp?” Snurt asked.
“Ms. Van Kramp
?” I blurted.
“Yes, I’m Elizabeth Van Kramp,” she said, looking over at me. She had dazzling blue eyes, the color of the sky on a perfect summer day, and was wearing a red skirt with a red sleeveless top and a strand of pearls around her neck. She was a knockout, and if I hadn’t been in the middle of a case, I might’ve asked her out for a root beer float, despite the small age difference. I also noticed she had a British accent that matched Mr. Van Kramp’s. “May I help you?”
“Are you married to Mr. Van Kramp?” I asked.
“He’s my older brother,” she said, flashing me a flawless smile.
“Ms. Van Kramp,” Snurt said again, “just a moment of your time, please.”
They stepped into a far corner of the room, and Snurt started explaining the situation in a whisper. I was about to give Ronny one more chance to come clean when I noticed three photos taped to the wall beside the door. Each belonged to a different kid, and under each one was an allergy warning. Normally that kind of thing wouldn’t give me a small heart attack, except the photo on the far right belonged to a kid that I recognized. It was a small boy with blond hair and blue eyes. I knew him as Jake Clim, but the name under his photo said Tomas Van Kramp.
“Tomas Van Kramp!” I exclaimed, leaping out of my chair. “Tomas Van Kramp!”
“What?” Ms. Van Kramp said, turning to me.
“Tomas Van Kramp,” I said, turning to Ronny. “He planned it all, didn’t he?”
Ronny just stared straight ahead.
“What?” Ms. Van Kramp asked.
“Is he your son?” I asked.
“No,” she said, frowning. She looked downright insulted and I think our future together was in serious jeopardy. “He’s my younger brother. What did you say about him?”
“Oh, nothing,” I said, sitting back down, “but I think Ronny is his friend. He’s your friend, isn’t he, Ronny? He’s your very smart friend, isn’t he?”
“Stop picking on me!” Ronny wailed.
Snurt stalked across the room. “Now see here,” she said, “high school students are not permitted on the middle school grounds, and they’re certainly not allowed to intimidate my students.”
“You can’t prove anything,” I said, waving her away. “It’s his word against mine.”
