Tooth and Nail: A Novel Approach to the SAT (A Harvest Test Preparation Book)

by Charles Harrington Elster

  “Wow, look at this,” Caitlin said.

  “What is it?” Phil asked, joining her.

  On a small, ornamental table lay a very large, very old book, its faded cover studded with dark gems and embossed with peculiar, esoteric lettering. Phil carefully lifted the cover and frontispiece to reveal the title page, on which “Secrets of Illuministic Wisdom, by Ibn Sabin” was written in beautiful calligraphic script.

  Caitlin’s jaw dropped. “This is the same book I saw in Professor Bibb’s apartment.”

  “Really?”

  “Yes, he said it was a spiritual text based on the doctrine of the Sufis.”

  “Who the heck are they?”

  “An obscure Islamic sect that had something to do with St. Francis of Assisi, the Knights of the Round Table, the Order of the Garter, and all kinds of crazy stuff. And get this—he told me he had the book insured for two hundred thousand dollars.”

  “What’s it doing here?”

  “Maybe Tooth and Nail is involved in stealing rare books, or maybe Bibb and Teddy Prospero are partners in a plot to raid the Prospero collection. I don’t know. All I know is I’ve got a strong hunch that something insidious is going on around here.”

  Phil nodded. “I think I know what you mean. This place is like a bizarre museum—for maniacs and murderers.”

  “And other nefarious characters,” Caitlin added dryly as Phil picked up a blunderbuss and sighted down the barrel.

  “Don’t shoot,” Leo called from a doorway on the other side of the room. “There doesn’t seem to be anybody around. C’mon, we’ve got some searching to do.”

  As Leo and Phil headed down the hall, Caitlin opened the door across the way and found the switch. A row of sconces came on, casting a rosy glow over a paneled room. She looked around.

  A billiards table occupied the center. A dartboard hung on the far wall. A card table stood in the corner. She headed for the cabinets that lined the wall on the left and began going through them.

  The first contained several athletic trophies, none with a date later than 1983. The second held a rack of pool balls, a stack of magazines, cards, and other odds and ends. The third was entirely empty.

  Just an exalted clubhouse for boys, she thought.

  “Hey, Caitlin!”

  Phil stood in the doorway, nearly jumping out of his shoes with excitement. “Come on. Leo found the library!”

  They hurried down the hall. When they got to the library, Leo was already busy. All four walls of the spacious room were lined with bookshelves, and he had started in a corner near the fireplace, methodically looking through each book on each shelf.

  “Check this out!” he said, waving a faded volume. “Fifteen Seconds to Play, a Chip Hilton sports story.”

  “Not exactly the most edifying fare,” Caitlin said as she walked to the middle of the room and staked out a section of shelf to search.

  Leo laughed. “That’s an understatement. I read these things when I was ten.”

  Phil stood in front of the large fireplace, put down the tool bag, and surveyed the room. Another big job, just like the costume room, he thought. He noticed that there were two doors, one at each end of the room. “Maybe we should lock these doors, just in case,” he suggested.

  “Good idea,” Leo responded, flipping through several paperbacks.

  Phil turned the night latches on both doors, then walked back to the fireplace and removed the screen. There was a small pile of embers still burning under white ash. When he crouched down and blew on them, they reddened. He took several logs from the woodbox beside the hearth and placed them on the andirons. He fanned the embers with a book and the bone-dry wood caught almost immediately. When the logs began to blaze, he stood and looked around the room.

  “Any suggestions on where to begin?” he asked Leo.

  “Anywhere you want. There doesn’t seem to be any order. Just start somewhere and be meticulous.”

  “Okay,” Phil said, opting for a spot near the fireplace.

  Leo’s right, he thought, as he began searching. At one time the library might have been ruled by a system, Dewey Decimal or otherwise, but it had long since deteriorated to the point where any concept of organization was impossible to discern. The collection was also a peculiar study in contrasts, from the profound and sober to the superficial and fatuous.

  Phil noticed that this literary disarray was not the only sign that the library had become the victim of neglect. An oriental carpet that covered most of the floor was faded and threadbare. One of the two sleek art deco ceiling lamps hung askew. Cracks in the green leather club chairs stationed about the room had been clumsily mended with duct tape. And over everything lay a thin film of dust.

  “It looks like this place has seen better days,” Phil said, pulling down a well-thumbed potboiler from the shelf.

  “Prospero founded Tooth and Nail as a literary club,” Leo said. “I guess they’ve let the original vision slide.”

  Phil held up a dilapidated volume and shook his head. “Forget about the treasure. We’ll be lucky if we find a book that’s worth more than five bucks. Take a look at the mold on this one.”

  “Stop yapping about standards, you guys,” Caitlin said. “I’ve got a whole stack of quality material over here.” She was sitting on the floor, surrounded by piles of books.

  Leo and Phil hurried to her side.

  Crouching down, Leo examined several of the titles. “Pericles, Coriolanus, Timon of Athens, The Winter’s Tale. Why didn’t you tell us?”

  “I haven’t found anything noteworthy yet,” Caitlin replied. She pulled several more old books from the bottom shelf. As she did so, a worn leather-bound tome fell over on its side with a resounding thump.

  “Check out that big fat one,” Phil said, pointing to it. “It looks really old.”

  Caitlin reached over and wiped the dust off the cover. Then she laughed. “All’s Well That Ends Well. How auspicious!” She grunted as she attempted to lift the cumbersome book.

  Leo leaned forward to assist her. “Be careful. It looks as if the spine’s broken.”

  “Don’t worry. I’ve got it,” Caitlin said, but the weight was too much and the book slipped from her grasp. The cover flipped open and a sheaf of brittle, yellowed papers slid onto the floor.

  “Oh my God!” Phil exclaimed.

  Caitlin scrambled to pick up the loose papers.

  “Wait!” Leo commanded. “That manuscript could be four hundred years old. Let me handle it.”

  Leo got on his knees and gently gathered the papers together. When he was done, he transported the bundle to a table next to a chair. Phil and Caitlin were right behind him, eagerly looking over his shoulder.

  “What does it say?” Caitlin asked.

  Leo took a deep breath, released it slowly, and read the words on the first page of the manuscript. “Love’s Labours Won, a romantic comedy by Rowena Hester,” he recited slowly. Then, exultant, he thrust his fists into the air. “This is it! This is Shakespeare’s missing play! I can’t believe it!”

  “You mean Rowena and Hester’s play,” Caitlin said. “It looks as though the two authors have combined their first names into one full name.”

  “Who are Rowena and Hester?” Phil asked her.

  “The letter, Phil. It was addressed to the Shakespearean characters Rosalind and Hippolyta, remember?”

  “So?”

  “So Rosalind and Rowena both start with R and Hippolyta and Hester both start with H. Get it?”

  Phil eyes widened. “Rowena and Hester are their real names! So the letter was from Shakespeare, and it was addressed to two women who were writing for him.”

  “Precisely, Einstein,” Caitlin said. She tapped Leo’s shoulder. “Aren’t you going to look through the manuscript?”

  “Yeah. Let’s see what’s inside,” Phil urged.

  Tentatively, Leo turned a few pages. Here and there in the margins and between the lines of neatly printed text were notes scribbled in the sa
me crabbed and cryptic handwriting in which the letter fragments had been written.

  “These must be Shakespeare’s comments to the authors,” Leo said. “The handwriting corroborates Carmen’s theory. Too bad she couldn’t be here with us. Her help was crucial.”

  Caitlin reverently ran her fingers along the edge of one of the pages, taking care not to touch any of the handwriting. “I don’t mean to sound mercenary,” she said, “but do you have any idea what this might be worth?”

  Leo shrugged. “I can’t even begin to guess. Several million, maybe? And with the letter, a whole lot more.”

  Phil patted him on the back. “Now that you’ve finally got it, chief, what do you plan on doing with it?”

  The sound of rattling keys interrupted the conversation.

  The three students looked at the door. There was a click as the bolt drew back and the latch turned.

  Chapter 30

  Double, Double, Toil and Trouble

  While the others stared, Caitlin picked up the precious manuscript. She tried to hide it behind her back, but it was too unwieldy. She didn’t want to appear furtive, so she held the sheaf of papers in front of her as nonchalantly as she could.

  “I see I have some unexpected guests this evening,” Teddy Prospero said, closing the door behind him. There was a smirk on his face and a revolver in his hand.

  “Somehow I knew you’d show up,” Leo said.

  “Have you forgotten? I live here. This is my home.” Teddy delivered the lines with a contemptuous sneer, then waved the gun toward the corner of the room. “Get over there, all three of you. Now!”

  The group retreated and huddled together in the shadow of the dusty bookshelves.

  “What do you want from us?” Leo asked.

  “For starters, how about an explanation of why you’re trespassing. Tooth and Nail is private property, and in case you haven’t noticed, you guys are here without an invitation. I could have the cops arrest you for breaking and entering—not to mention stealing,” he added, eyeing Caitlin. “What’s that you’ve got there?”

  Caitlin clutched the manuscript close to her chest. “What we came for tonight has nothing to do with you.”

  “Correction,” Teddy said. “It has everything to do with me. Would you want somebody to break into your home?”

  Caitlin shook her head.

  “Then why don’t you tell me exactly what you did come for?” Teddy pressed, advancing toward Caitlin. “C’mon. Let’s see what you’ve got there.”

  Leo stepped in front of Caitlin and glared at Teddy. His face tensed but his voice remained placid. “You knew about the letter, didn’t you?”

  Teddy looked perplexed. “What letter?”

  “The letter from Professor Prospero—from your grandfather.”

  “I don’t know anything about any letter. In fact, I haven’t the faintest idea what you’re talking about.”

  “Don’t be obtuse. You know exactly what I’m talking about. You’re culpable. Don’t deny it. You chloroformed Hargrave. You knocked me out and searched Phil’s room. And then you hired some creep to attack Phil and Caitlin in the theater and harass them at the football stadium.”

  Teddy’s response to these allegations was a derisive laugh. “Everybody says you’ve got such a wonderful mind, Leo, but I think you’re losing it. Unlike you people, I don’t need to violate the law to get what I want—which in this case is only what I’m entitled to from my grandfather’s estate. As soon as my suit against the college is resolved, I’ll be set.”

  He sat down in a club chair in the middle of the room and looked at Leo. “I never laid a finger on Harry, and I didn’t attack you either, Leo. But frankly I’m glad somebody did. You deserved to get your complacent—”

  Leo lunged at Teddy.

  “Chill out, man!” Phil said, grabbing Leo’s jacket with both hands before his counselor could do anything foolhardy. “The guy’s a jerk,” he added under his breath, “but he’s a jerk with a gun.”

  While Phil restrained Leo, Caitlin turned on Teddy. “You wanted to get back at your grandfather for cutting you out of his will. And you wanted to get even with Leo at the same time. So when you found out about Prospero’s letter, you figured you’d just let us solve all the clues and then snatch the treasure away from—”

  “Caitlin!” Leo shouted.

  A grin spread across Teddy’s face. “How intriguing,” he said, raising the gun and pointing it at Caitlin. “Tell me. What’s this about a treasure?”

  Chagrined, Caitlin looked at Leo, hoping he would supply a suitable answer. But before anyone could speak, the door opened.

  Harold Hargrave stood on the threshold, one hand on the doorknob. His open trenchcoat was dripping wet. “Yes, Ms. Ciccone, please tell us all about the treasure,” he said.

  Teddy stood up. “Harry, how nice of you to join us. Are you part of this treasure-hunting party too?”

  Hargrave stepped into the room. “Yes, I suppose you could say that.”

  Teddy aimed the gun at the librarian. “Then that’s too bad, because I’ll have to ask you to step over there and join your friends.”

  A devious smile tugged at the corners of Hargrave’s rigid mouth. “I don’t think so, Teddy,” he said in a dispassionate tone.

  “Don’t be difficult now. Just get in the corner and I’ll be happy to continue this little chat.”

  “Do you know what a quagmire is?” Hargrave asked.

  Teddy snorted. “Do I look like a walking dictionary?”

  “Your inane brand of levity is not amusing,” Hargrave said, his voice filled with disdain. “It’s unfortunate that you don’t know what a quagmire is, because I think you’re about to step into one.”

  Teddy’s finger tightened on the trigger. “Harry, just shut up and get over in the corner. Now!”

  Phil tensed, preparing to take advantage of any opportunity this diversion might afford him, when a minuscule movement at the other end of the room caught his attention. The latch on the door was turning. Then the door opened silently. Phil glanced at Leo and Caitlin and knew from the astonished expressions on their faces that they saw the man too.

  He was large—enormous, in fact.

  Even without the mirror sunglasses, Caitlin knew instantly who he was. He wore the same bulky army fatigue jacket, and in his hand he held a long, shiny switchblade. He glided silently across the carpet while Hargrave and Teddy continued their altercation.

  “I don’t think you understand,” Hargrave was saying. “You are the dunce who’ll be sitting in the corner presently, not I.”

  Teddy started to laugh, but only half a laugh came out. The rest of the sound got stuck in his throat when the big man threw a brawny arm around his neck.

  “You try anything and I’ll cut out your kidneys,” he hissed, pressing the knife against Teddy’s side.

  “Drop the gun,” Hargrave commanded.

  Teddy obeyed. The revolver landed on the floor with a thud. Hargrave bent down and picked it up. He looked over at Leo, Caitlin, and Phil, who stood frozen in the corner.

  “Don’t do anything rash or impulsive,” Hargrave told them. He looked at Teddy. “Are you comfortable?” he asked.

  Teddy’s eyes bulged and his face was pallid. His shoes dangled an inch off the ground.

  “Let him go, Melvin,” Hargrave ordered. “I think I’d like him present for the final act of our little play.”

  Melvin released his grip and Teddy slumped to the floor, gasping for breath.

  “Now, Ms. Ciccone, would you step forward, please?”

  Caitlin hesitated.

  “Don’t be afraid. You won’t get hurt if you cooperate.”

  Reluctantly, Caitlin took a step forward.

  “A little further, please. To the chair.”

  Caitlin obeyed.

  “Good. Now, put that manuscript you’re holding down on the table next to the chair.”

  Caitlin looked back at Leo, who shrugged sadly.

 
“There’s nothing we can do about it,” he said.

  She set the manuscript on the table.

  Hargrave picked it up greedily. “Melvin, keep an eye on our friends,” he said, sitting down in the club chair to examine his prize.

  Melvin bent over, yanked Teddy to his feet, and gave him a shove. Teddy stumbled to the corner and stood beside Leo. Disgruntled, he hung his head.

  Leo looked at him and whispered, “If you didn’t know about the letter or the treasure, then what were you after?”

  “What’s mine,” was Teddy’s succinct and dour response.

  “So you didn’t knock me out and search Phil’s room?”

  “No.”

  “And you didn’t chloroform Hargrave?”

  Teddy shook his head.

  “Then if you didn’t, who did?” Leo asked, half to himself.

  “This surpasses all my expectations!” Hargrave exclaimed. As the librarian gloated over the manuscript, Melvin turned to Caitlin and grinned, revealing a lurid gold incisor.

  “Ciccone. That’s a nice name,” he said.

  When she didn’t respond, Melvin leaned over and grabbed a handful of her hair.

  Caitlin screamed.

  “Knock it off!” Phil yelled, taking a step forward. Melvin ignored him.

  “Get your hands off me!” Caitlin howled. She kicked her assailant hard in the shin.

  Melvin didn’t flinch. Instead he jerked her head back and bent over her. “I oughtta cut your throat,” he said, his fetid, malodorous breath enveloping her.

  The blade flashed. Caitlin felt the sharp tip against the soft flesh beneath her chin. Enraged, Phil rushed the big man.