The Further Adventures of Jack Lime

by James Leck

  “No!” Grandma said, leaping up. “This will not do! You did something wrong, and I will not sit here and argue with you about it. Mr. Snit, I’ll leave this in your hands. If you think that Jack should be expelled, and I wouldn’t be surprised if you did, I will stand by your decision. As for you, Jack, you’re to follow orders and do your work. If I hear that you’re involved in one of your cases, you’ll be spending the rest of the year receiving your education at home, with me. Do you understand?”

  “Homeschooled? With you? You can’t be serious, Grandma?”

  Grandma’s eyes got so big that I thought they might shoot out of her head like some cartoon character.

  “Oh, I’m serious, Jack,” she said. “And do you know what the great thing about being homeschooled is?”

  “You get to sleep in?” I said.

  “No,” she said, smiling, “it’s that school never ends. You won’t have time for anything else, just school, day after day after day. Do you understand?”

  “I understand,” I said.

  “Thank you, again, for coming in to see me, Mrs. Lime,” Snit said, standing up.

  “Not at all,” she said, shaking his hand and heading for the door, but she stopped before she left. “Jack,” she said, “aren’t you going to walk me out?”

  “Of course,” I croaked. The front doors at Iona High are only a hop, skip and a jump from Snit’s office, but I had a feeling this was going to be a very long walk.

  Thursday, October 10, 12:28 p.m.

  Iona High, The Main Foyer

  As I predicted, Grandma and I had a lovely stroll to the main doors. While we walked, she helped me imagine, in great detail, exactly what it would be like working from sunup to sundown in the comfort of our front room while she watched me do my reading, writing and arithmetic problems over and over again. She left and I headed back to the office. Unfortunately Mike the Bookie stepped in front of me with a kid who had blond hair, big blue eyes and who was wearing a red golf shirt with the collar popped up.

  “Jack,” Mike said, “was that your grandmother?”

  “She always comes here for lunch on Thursdays, Mike,” I said. “We sit down with Snit and make a list of who’s been naughty and who’s been nice. And guess what? You made the naughty list this week.”

  “What about my friend here? Is he on the naughty list, too?”

  “I don’t know, who’s your friend?”

  “This is Sebastian Cain.”

  Cain smiled. “I’ve heard a lot about you, Lime. None of it’s been good.”

  “Figures the two of you would be best buddies,” I said. “Well, you’re not going to get away with it.”

  “Get away with what?” Mike asked.

  “You’re not going to get away with your little diary scam, Mike,” I said, “and Cain’s not going to get away with stealing Madeleine’s painting.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Cain said, chuckling.

  “And even if we did know,” Mike added, “nobody’s going to listen to you, Jack, especially not Snit.”

  “We’ll see who’s listening to me at the end of the day, Mikey.”

  “Sure we will,” Mike said. “But I want you to know, Jack, that Sebastian’s dad is a bigwig with Luxemcorp.”

  “A seriously big bigwig,” Cain added.

  “And once he hears that you pushed me around and stole my diary, he’s going to make sure you get kicked out of Iona High,” Mike said. “Our school doesn’t need any more thugs.”

  “No, Mike, you got that covered, don’t you?”

  “Why don’t you run along and go play detective,” Cain said, stepping up to me. “Just don’t be surprised if you’re not back on Monday.”

  I grabbed Cain by his red collar and pulled him close. “Don’t think you’re walking away with any prizes tonight, Sebastian. I’m going to be on you like a wet sweater on a gorilla. You got that, pal-o? I’m taking you down.”

  “You’ll never find that painting before tonight,” Cain hissed. “I guarantee it.”

  “That ransom note was just a diversion, wasn’t it?”

  He smirked.

  “Tell me where it’s at,” I growled, “or you’re going to be in for a world of hurt.”

  “What are you going to do? Call your parents? Oh wait, they’re dead, aren’t they?”

  I was close to doing something I was really going to regret, when our little party was rudely interrupted.

  “Let him go, Mr. Lime!” Van Kramp ordered.

  Cain winked and I knew I’d been duped. They wanted to get under my skin, and I was silly enough to let them do it. Now I was trapped. I saw Van Kramp hauling me into Snit’s office. I saw Snit calling my grandma. I saw years of homeschooling stretching out in front of me.

  “Let him go!” Van Kramp repeated.

  I was just relaxing my grip when, for the first time ever, my condition kicked in at exactly the right moment.

  Thursday, October 10, ?:?? p.m.

  Sleepy Land, Jack’s Dream

  I dreamed I was at the train station, standing beside a pay phone that was ringing. I picked it up.

  “Hello?”

  “Jack?”

  “Yeah, who’s this?”

  “It’s KC.”

  “What do you want now?”

  “It’s a setup, Jack. They’re setting you up again.”

  “Who’s setting me up?”

  “Don’t go snooping around this place, Jack. And whatever you do, don’t answer any phones.”

  “It’s too late,” I said. “I’m talking to you on a phone.”

  “No you’re not,” she said.

  I spun around and there she was, standing behind me, wearing a big white poufy dress. A shiny black train was on the tracks behind her. The windows were filled with shadowy figures.

  “Who’s setting me up?” I asked again.

  “Just don’t come back to the station,” she said, and then she whirled around and ran onto the train.

  “Wait!” I called, but the doors shut and the train rumbled away.

  That’s when I woke up.

  Thursday, October 10, 12:47 p.m.

  Iona High, The Main Foyer

  I was surrounded by a small mob of gawkers and slack jaws, all staring down at me. Van Kramp was trying to hustle them away while Snit kneeled beside me and looked concerned.

  “Are you okay, Jack?” he asked. His breath reeked of coffee.

  “I think so,” I said, sitting up.

  “Take it easy,” Snit said. “You’ve been asleep for almost ten minutes.”

  “I’m fine,” I said. “I’m just hungry.”

  “Victor,” Snit said, turning to Van Kramp, “could you go get him a sandwich from the cafeteria, please.”

  Van Kramp nodded and left. I stood up and scanned the crowd for Mike or Cain, but they must’ve scrammed when I went down.

  “Let’s get back to the office,” Snit said, and he pushed his way through the crowd. We got inside and he led me back to my cell, but before he opened the door, he stopped and said, “Mr. Van Kramp told me about you and Sebastian Cain, Jack, but I’m going to do you a favor and pretend it never happened. However, I’m warning you, young man, if you stick even a toe out of the detention room for the rest of the day, I’m calling your grandmother. Have you got that?”

  “Loud and clear,” I said.

  “Not a single solitary toe,” he said, wagging his finger in my face.

  “Not even my little one,” I promised and he opened the door to my cell. Bucky was still inside, snoring away on the desk.

  “Wake up!” Snit yelled as I strolled in.

  Bucky sat up and looked around. “Is it over?”

  “Not yet, Mr. King,” Snit said. “And I expect to see some work done by the tw
o of you before you leave.”

  Snit left and I took a seat on the floor.

  “Getting into trouble again, Limey?” Bucky asked, and yawned.

  “Finding things out is more like it. I don’t suppose I could pay you to ask a few questions for me? You know, use your muscle to get some answers?”

  “Pay me with what, Lime? A favor?”

  That’s when Van Kramp came in with my sandwich.

  “Feeling better?” he asked.

  “Just peachy,” I said.

  “Good, then there’s no reason why the two of you should bother me for the rest of the day, correct?”

  “Correct,” Bucky said, eyeing my sandwich.

  Van Kramp left and Bucky headed my way.

  “You look pretty hungry, Bucky. I could pay you with this sandwich?”

  “You’re going to give me that sandwich anyway, Lime.”

  “I don’t think so,” I said, standing up. Bucky stared down at me and I heard his big knuckles cracking as he curled his hands into fists.

  “You’re a real tough guy, ain’t you, Limey?”

  “No tougher than anyone else,” I said. “I’m just not afraid of getting hurt.”

  “Over a sandwich?”

  “It’s not about the sandwich,” I said, “and we both know it.”

  Bucky laughed. It sounded like a buzz saw cutting through wood.

  “You’re a real piece of work,” he said, leaning in. I got my face ready for something bad to happen, but Bucky just turned around and sat back down in his cushy chair.

  I breathed again, unwrapped the sandwich and handed him half.

  “My mother always taught me to share,” I said.

  “You’re a real piece of work,” he said again. “You know I almost rearranged your face just now?”

  “That’s what I like about you, Bucky. I always know where I stand. There are some people out there, well, you just can’t tell what they’re going to do next.”

  “People got a lot of different reasons to do things. Me, I do things for the money. It’s the only reason to do anything anyway.”

  Bucky was wrong about that, but I wasn’t going to debate him. I barely survived the sandwich incident and didn’t want to push my luck. Instead I turned my attention to the pile of work sitting beside me on the floor. If I busted my hump, I could get it all done before the final bell. That way Snit wouldn’t waste time raking me over the coals at the end of the day for slacking off, and I could track down my new BFF, Sebastian Cain.

  “Thanks for the sandwich, Limey,” Bucky said. “Now keep your trap shut. I’m going back to sleep.”

  “Sweet dreams, Bucky,” I said, and got busy solving some math problems.

  Thursday, October 10, 3:05 p.m.

  Iona High, The Main Foyer

  When the final bell rang, Snit stalked in, looking stern, and I shoved my work in his hands. He gave it a quick once-over and nodded.

  “I’ll see you back here tomorrow morning, Mr. Lime, bright and early,” he said, and I made a break for it.

  I sprinted past Van Kramp before he had a chance to look up from his computer and headed straight for the main foyer. I took up position in the far corner and kept my eyes peeled for Cain. Unfortunately, while I was busy trying to stay under the radar, KC and Madeleine strolled over.

  “Any luck with the case, Jack?” KC asked.

  “Keep it down, Stone,” I hissed. “I’m on a stakeout here.”

  “Oh, sorry,” she said, looking around, “I forgot you like to hide out in the open like this.”

  “Say whatever it is you came to say and vamoose.”

  “I don’t suppose all this sneaking around out in the open has anything to do with Madeleine’s case?”

  “I got a news flash for you, Stone. Sebastian Cain is your man. He practically confessed,” I said. “I just need to track him down before he leaves.”

  “That shouldn’t be hard, even for you. He’s right over there,” she said, hiking her thumb over her shoulder.

  She was right; Cain was standing on the other side of the foyer.

  “What’s your plan?” she asked.

  “I’m going to follow Cain. He’s either going to lead me to that painting or I’m going to make him tell me where it is.”

  “That’s very clever, Jack, and I’m sure it’s all going to work out, but Madeleine’s decided she’s going to pay the ransom. Maybe, after you’re done with Cain, you could meet us at the train station to make sure everything goes smoothly.”

  “That’s a mistake,” I said, watching Cain head for the front doors. “He’s not going to give you that painting, even if you pay. I’d be surprised if he ever planned to collect the ransom in the first place. It’s all just a ploy to keep us busy until he’s got the blue ribbon pinned on his lapel.”

  “Just the same, Lime,” KC said, “we’ll be at the train station if you need us.”

  “Then that’s where I’ll deliver the painting when I get it,” I said. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got a nasty flimflam man to follow.”

  Thursday, October 10, 4:38 p.m.

  The Steppes, The Cain Place

  Cain wasn’t in a hurry, that’s for sure. He wandered down Main Street, stopping a couple of times to check his cell. Then he strolled over to Monty’s Café, ordered a drink (probably something frothy and expensive) and sat down in one of their puffy leather sofas. I waited down the street and pretended to window-shop for shoes. After forty-five minutes the owner came out and asked me why I was spending so much time outside a women’s shoe store. I told her I was just doing a little market research. She didn’t buy it and asked me to move along. It was starting to get a little chilly, so I ducked into The Diner and grabbed a good old-fashioned cup of joe. When I came out, Cain was on the move again.

  After a leisurely jaunt down Main, he crossed the bridge and walked into Riverside Park. I was starting to smell an ambush, but I couldn’t turn back now, so I followed him in. After half an hour of admiring the leaves in the park, Cain headed out; no ambush, no secret meetings, no painting. It was already 4:38 when he picked up the pace and went back across the bridge. He booted across Main Street, down Milky Way Boulevard and into the ritzy part of town known as The Steppes. I followed him past one giant McMansion after another until he stepped off the sidewalk and ambled across the perfectly mowed lawn of a ridiculously large brick house.

  I checked my watch — 4:45. I had fifteen minutes before the alleged drop at the train station. Cain wandered around to the back, and I crept to the corner of the house. Cain stepped up to a garage and entered the security code. The door slid up, almost silently, and Cain went inside. Seconds later he came back out carrying a black garbage bag that contained something square and flat. Either he was throwing out a very large book or he had Madeleine’s painting in that bag. It was time to make my move.

  When he got within ten feet of me, I bolted around the corner and threw myself at him like a battering ram. Cain crumpled and the painting went flying.

  “Caught! Red-handed!” I yelled, pinning him down.

  “Doing what?” Cain said, struggling to get his arms free.

  “Still playing the dumb mug, eh?” I said. “Well, why don’t we have a little look at what’s inside that bag?”

  “Go ahead!”

  “Don’t make any sudden movements, Cain,” I said, letting him go and standing up.

  “I’ve got no reason to run,” he said, sweeping his hair into place.

  I strode over to the bag and pulled out the painting. It was a red triangle on a white canvas. The lines were thick, and at each of the three points the paint had dripped down the canvas like blood. Cain’s signature was scrawled in the bottom corner in the same red paint.

  “I think I’ll call it The Idiot, after you, Lime,” Cain said with a smirk.<
br />
  “What are you talking about?”

  “Did you enjoy the leaves in the park? They’re so pretty this time of year, aren’t they?”

  “Where’s the painting?” I said.

  “I don’t know,” he said, still sitting on the ground. “Mike told me this morning that it’d been stolen or something. We thought it might be funny to string you along. Mike said you’d fall for it. I guess he was right, huh?”

  “Where is Mike, anyway?”

  “He had some other business he had to take care of,” Cain said.

  “I bet he did,” I said, and checked my watch. It was 4:52. I had eight minutes to get to the train station. The odds were against me, but since when do I pay attention to the odds?

  “Very clever plan,” I said, tossing his painting on the lawn. “You divert my attention while Mike makes the drop. I should’ve known better! But don’t start patting yourself on the back yet. It’s just a matter of time before I pin it on you.”

  “You’ve got nothing, Lime.”

  I was going to hammer him with a witty comeback but thought I’d better save my breath. I bolted out of his driveway and started sprinting down the street. If only I had my bike, I might’ve had a chance to make it before the five o’clock train rolled out.

  Thursday, October 10, 5:05 p.m.

  2 Main Street, The Train Station

  I ran as hard as I could and I still missed the drop. I stumbled onto the platform just as the train was pulling out of the station. My lungs were burning, and I was soaked with sweat. I leaned over on my knees, sucking in air and thought about throwing up. That’s when I noticed KC, Madeleine and their long-haired friend who had given me his phone heading my way. Despite this catastrophe, they were all smiles.

  “Julian saved the day!” KC exclaimed, as they walked over to me.

  “What?” I asked.

  “He got my painting back,” Madeleine said, smiling at the long-haired kid.

  She held up a painting that was a mash of different shades of green all swirling together on a canvas that was a little smaller than a placemat. Across the middle was a diagonal line of black that cut the painting in two.

  “It’s called Wasteland,” Madeleine said, beaming at Julian.

  “How?” I said, still trying to catch my breath.