by James Leck
“Spare me your lies, Mike,” I said, and handed him one of my business cards. “I wrote what you’re going to say on the back. My number’s on the other side. You’re going to call me when it’s done. If Lance shows up tonight, none the wiser, then I’ll give you back this book tomorrow at four o’clock. Meet me at The Diner on Main Street and bring the money for my bike. You got all that?”
“Even if I do all this, Lime, you won’t give me back that book.”
“Sure I will,” I said. “You come through on your end and I’ll give it back, no funny business.”
“You’ll just make a copy of it.”
“No copies,” I said.
Mike gritted his teeth.
“That or I go to Snit, and I’m sure Bucky won’t be happy about all this. He’ll have to blame somebody, right? My money’s on you, Mike.”
“Fine,” Mike barked. He reached into his pocket, pulled out a wad of cash and tossed fifty bucks at each of the rubes. They grabbed their money off the floor and ran out. I eased my way back toward the door.
“Remember,” I said, “you do your part and I’ll do mine.”
“You better,” he growled, and I left him standing in the bathroom.
I considered making a beeline for the poetry section at the back of the library. I figured that was the perfect
spot to lie low while I waited to see what Mike would do next. But before I went into hiding, I needed to find Gregory Pepperton and make sure he’d survived his run-in with Heavy. The last thing I needed right now was a new client.
Monday, October 7, 1:22 p.m.
Iona High, History Class
I had history after lunch and my teacher, Mr. Boardem, spent most of the class showing us pictures of his trip to Italy over the summer. I took the opportunity to thumb through Mike’s gambling ledger. There were no surprises; it was filled with names, dates and amounts. I recognized most of the names, but there was one that kept coming up again and again — Lance Munroe. That was surprising, considering I had him pegged for an inside man in this betting operation. Why would Lance be losing money hand over fist if he was in on everything? I was considering the implications of this new information when Mr. Boardem interrupted my train of thought.
“Mr. Lime,” he said, “could you please identify the building that I’m standing in front of in this photograph?”
“Ah,” I mumbled, “is it Buckingham Palace?”
“Buckingham Palace is in London, Mr. Lime! This is in Rome. It is the Coliseum! Now please put away your little black book and pay attention. Who knows, you might learn something.”
I was going to learn something, all right. Betty was going to learn something, and Lance was going to learn something, too. We were all going to learn something; it’s just that some of us weren’t going to like it. Nope, some of us weren’t going to like it, not one little bit.
Monday, October 7, 3:24 p.m.
Iona High, The Main Foyer
I was hiding behind a large plastic fern in the main foyer when KC Stone walked by at the end of the day.
“Psst!” I said.
She looked around.
“Psst!”
“Jack,” she asked, peeking through the fern, “what are you doing back there?”
“Hiding.”
“Really,” she said, “I never would’ve guessed.”
“Enough with the chitchat, Stone. I need you to do me a favor.”
“I don’t know. I usually don’t do favors for boys who hide behind ferns.”
“Hardee-har-har,” I said. “You got me into this case with Betty and Lance, so now I need you to help me finish it.”
“I thought you weren’t on that case anymore?”
“Forget what I said.”
“I usually do.”
“Just make sure that you and Betty are in Riverside Park tonight at eight o’clock sharp. Meet me by the tennis courts. You got it?”
“This better not be one of your crazy plans, Jack.”
“Oh, it’s crazy, all right. Crazy like a fox.”
Monday, October 7, 8:00 p.m.
Riverside Park, The Tennis Courts
KC arrived with Betty, right on time. I stepped out of the shadows and onto the path.
“I don’t understand what’s going on, Jack,” Betty said. “Why are we here? Lance is innocent.”
“Yeah,” KC said, “what are we doing here, Lime? I’m freezing.”
“I’ll explain everything, but we can’t talk out in the open,” I said. “Just follow me.”
They didn’t look happy about it, but they both followed me off the path and back into the shadow of a large tree.
“Now will you tell us what’s going on?” KC said.
“I just wanted to make sure we were all in place when he arrived,” I said.
“When who arrived?” Betty asked.
“Betty, very shortly your boyfriend, Lance Munroe, is going to come walking down that path.”
“What? Why?” she asked.
“Why? Because he got a text message from a guy named Mike the Bookie telling him that there was a dodgeball game going on tonight and that they needed his services.”
“Who’s they, Jack?” KC asked.
“The Riverside Boys,” I said.
“He’s not in a gang!” Betty said. “He was just helping a friend! Let’s go, KC,” she added, and marched back out onto the path. My whole plan would’ve been blown if Lance hadn’t come strolling down the path at that exact moment.
“Betty, what are you doing here?” he asked, staggering backward like he’d been punched in the nose.
“She’s here because I asked her to be here,” I said, bounding onto the path beside Betty. “What are you doing here, Lance?”
“I … I …” he stammered.
“I’ll tell you what you’re doing here,” I said. “You’re here because you got a text from Mike the Bookie, a known affiliate of the Riverside Boys, telling you to be here. You’re here because you’re Bucky King’s lackey, just another thug working for the Riverside Boys. Isn’t that right, Lance?”
“It’s not true, Betty.”
“He’s lying,” I said. “He’s lying, just like he lied to you about being down here the other night to help out a few friends. I can prove everything!”
“Oh, Lance!” Betty said, through tears.
“Betty, Betty!” Lance cried, running over to her. “I got myself in too deep. Oh, Betty, I’ve made a mess of things! I didn’t mean to hurt you.”
“What’s going on, Lime?” KC asked.
“He’s been cheating on you, Betty,” I said, ignoring KC. “He’s been cheating on you so that he can take orders from Bucky King and his gang of thieves.”
“You got it wrong, Lime,” Lance said. “I’m not a member of the Riverside Boys. I just lost a little money playing dodgeball. I got a little carried away, but I figured I could win it back. After all, I’m Lance Munroe, right? And I will win it back, Betty. But in the meantime, Mike said he could keep Bucky off my back if I did him a few favors. So I lost a few dodgeball games. It’s no big deal.”
“What about the football game on Friday? Don’t tell me you didn’t plan those last-minute high jinks,” I said.
“I’d never lose a football game on purpose. That’d hurt my chances of getting picked up by a top-flight college, but I said I could make it look like we’d lose. Then we’re all winners, right? You get to watch a super-exciting game and I get to look even better than I already am.”
“That’s very noble,” I muttered, “but what about the kids who lost their dough betting on that game?”
“Nobody forced them to bet their money, Lime. It’s their own fault.”
“You lied to me!” Betty cut in. “You told me you were helping out a friend.”
“I w
as helping out me,” Lance said.
“That’s not the same,” Betty cried.
“I’m sorry,” Lance said, taking her hands. “I just didn’t want you to be worried about me, babe. I wanted to handle it myself. I guess I just got in over my head. I’m really sorry. I just didn’t see any other way out.”
“Oh, please,” I groaned, but Betty bought it hook, line and sinker. Before I could say cheesy, the two of them were kissing and making up.
“How much do you owe them?” KC asked, from out of nowhere.
“About a hundred and twenty-five bucks,” Lance said.
“Whoa!” I said. “Hold your horses! You only owe them a hundred and twenty-five bones? You should just go out and get a job; you’d pay that off in no time.”
“I don’t have time for a job,” Lance said. “It’s football season.”
“I’ll lend you the money,” Betty said, beaming.
“Well,” Lance started, scratching his chin, “now that I’m mixed up in this, Mike says I need to keep playing along. And he’s got this little black book filled with bets, and my name’s all over the place. He says if I ever change my mind, he’ll hand it over to Principal Snit or Coach Shultz, and then I can kiss a big scholarship good-bye. I’m in kind of a tight jam.”
“You help get people out of tight jams?” Betty said, looking at me with those big brown eyes.
“No, no, no,” I said.
“Oh, please, Jack!” Betty said. “I just know you could help him. Please?”
“That’d be great, Jack! Thanks!” Lance said, patting me on the back. “Some of the fellas on the team said you were a bit of a weirdo, but I always knew you were a stand-up kind of guy.”
“Let me get this straight,” I said, staring up at Lance. “You got yourself into trouble by losing money on dodgeball games and then tried to work your way out of it by making a deal with the devil instead of getting a job and paying off a hundred and twenty-five bucks? And now, since your name is scrawled all over Mike’s little black book, if you don’t keep following orders, you might end up losing a sweet football scholarship to a big-time college? And you want me to help you out of this mess?”
Lance and Betty nodded.
“Please, Jack. Please,” Betty said, grabbing my hands. I got another whiff of that watermelon bubblegum and my sad fate was sealed.
“Just stay out of my way,” I said, heading down the path. “And when this is done,” I added, turning around, “each of you owes me a favor. A big one.”
They nodded again and I left them standing in the park.
Tuesday, October 8, 4:00 p.m.
29A Main Street, The Diner
When I got to The Diner the next day, Mike was already sitting in the booth at the back, dipping fries into a puddle of ketchup.
“I’m surprised, Lime,” he said. “I didn’t think you’d show up. Now where’s my book?”
“Where’s the money for my bike?”
Mike laid out six twenties and a five in a neat line across the table.
“Give me my book,” he snapped.
“First, take the money back.”
“What?”
“That pays off Lance Munroe’s debt, I believe.”
“You’re joking.”
“I’m afraid I’m not,” I said. “Take the money and scratch Lance’s name out of your book.”
“Why would I?”
“Because if you don’t, Lance is going to confess everything to Principal Snit and ask for leniency,” I said. I was bluffing big time, but he didn’t need to know that.
“You’re bluffing,” he said.
I shrugged and tossed his little black book on the table.
“If Lance squeals, you and Bucky are going down, along with your whole gambling operation. If you let him off the hook, we both walk away from this, and nobody’s the wiser.”
Mike snatched up the money and the black book.
“You’re done with Lance,” I said.
“I might be done with Munroe,” Mike said, standing up, “but we’re just getting started with you, Lime.”
Mike stormed out just as KC Stone waltzed in.
“Did I miss something big?” she asked.
“If you had arrived five seconds earlier, Stone, you would’ve blown everything.”
“Well, I’m glad I have impeccable timing,” she said, sliding into the booth. “I don’t suppose you want to tell me what just happened? I’m sure it’d make a great story for the paper.”
“Sorry,” I said. “I didn’t do it for the publicity.”
“It might help your detective agency,” she said. “Attract some business.”
“I don’t need help with that,” I said.
“At least tell me if you managed to get your bike fixed.”
“How do you know about that?”
“I’m a journalist, Jack,” she said. “I have my ways. Remember?”
I shook my head. “It’s still going to need some work.”
“I don’t suppose you’d like to buy a girl a drink,” she said. “It’s hot out there today.”
“What’ll you have?”
“Right about now, I think a root beer float would hit the spot,” she said.
I smiled.
“I think we might get along after all,” I said.
“Don’t bet on it, Lime,” she said. “Don’t bet on it.”
THE CASE OF THE RED ENVELOPE
Thursday, October 10, 8:26 a.m.
Iona High, My Locker
It was a dismal day. It was raining and cold, the kind of cold that seeps under your skin and eats away at your bones. I trudged into school, soaking wet, and headed straight for my locker. I didn’t feel much like talking to anyone, especially not KC Stone, but there she was, standing in front of my locker with a waif of a girl who had long black hair and skin so pale that she’d pass for a vampire in downtown Transylvania.
“How’s life?” KC asked.
“Wet,” I said.
“That’s a weather report, Jack. I was wondering how you’re doing, you know, personally speaking. It’s a question polite people ask these days.”
“Are you here to give me a lesson on manners, Stone, or is there some other reason why you keep getting in my way?”
“This is Madeleine Summers,” she said. “She needs your help, and she needs it fast.”
Madeleine blushed and looked down at the ground.
“You know I’m trying to get out of the private-eye racket, right? It’s bad for my health and my bank account.”
“I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t an emergency.”
“Maybe this isn’t a good idea,” Madeleine said, in a whisper.
“Come on, Jack,” KC said. “Madeleine is an innocent victim. You can’t let something like this happen to her.”
“Something like what?” I asked.
KC opened her mouth to explain, but then her eyes darted over my shoulder and she clammed up quick, fast, in a hurry.
“Mr. Lime,” a deep voice said from directly behind me.
“Principal Snit,” I said, turning around. “What brings you down here this miserable morning?”
“You do,” he said. “We need to have a chat, young man.”
Whenever Snit uses the words “young” and “man” together, I know there’s going to be trouble, so I didn’t put up a fight and stepped in line behind him like a good little robot. We didn’t get far before KC grabbed my shoulder and spun me around.
“Jack,” she said, shoving a phone into my hand, “you must’ve dropped your cell.”
It’s a long and sordid story, but I don’t own a cell, so her giving me that phone was a bit of a surprise. I decided to play along and see where this was headed.
“Thanks, Stone,” I said, “I wouldn�
��t want to go anywhere without this.”
“No,” she said. “You might miss some very important text messages.”
“Just make sure I don’t see it or hear it, Mr. Lime,” Snit said. “I don’t want any interruptions during our meeting.”
“I’ll be in touch soon,” KC said, and she headed back down the hall. I had to hand it to her; KC had a lot of spunk, but that didn’t mean I was going to take this case. I had other things to do, like dealing with Snit and that black cloud he had hanging over his head. I had a sneaking suspicion that this meeting wasn’t going to be all sunshine and lollipops. And you know what? I was right.
Thursday, October 10, 8:34 a.m.
Iona High, Snit’s Office
Snit escorted me to his office and we sat down at his desk.
“Jack, I’m not going to beat around the bush. Yesterday afternoon a student told me that you stole his personal property.”
“What?”
“He says that you cornered him in the boys’ bathroom and took his diary. He also said you demanded one hundred and twenty-five dollars in order for him to get it back.”
“That’s ridiculous!” I said, jumping out of my seat. “That’s not what happened at all! Mike is lying to you, Mr. Snit!”
“I didn’t mention any names, Jack.”
“Oh, come on! We both know who we’re talking about, and I’m telling you he’s lying!”
“So you admit that you cornered Mike Anderson in the boys’ bathroom?”
“I wouldn’t say he was cornered, exactly,” I said.
“Did you steal his diary?”
“Diary? Is that what he’s calling it? That’s a hoot!”
“Did you take his diary, Jack?”
I wanted to tell Snit the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth. I wanted to explain to him that I’d borrowed Mike’s betting ledger to save the school’s new football hero, Lance Munroe, from Bucky King and the Riverside Boys. But that would mean playing the snitch, and I wasn’t willing to do that, even if Mike “The Bookie” Anderson was willing to sink that low.
“I may have momentarily borrowed a small black book that belonged to Mike Anderson,” I said, “but I can assure you it wasn’t a diary.”