Jonathon Wart and The Hand of Doom

by Terence O'Grady

  Chapter Three: Meeting with Mr. Thumbs

  Jonathon slowly closed the cover of his tablet. The Philadelphia Art Institute’s website provided images of some of their most famous paintings and prints and the more he studied them, the more confident he was about his new idea.

  But here he was—plotting and scheming again. It was too bad that it always seemed to come down to this…always looking for a way to outsmart Mr. Thumbs and Felicia. Jonathon knew that, in the end, he could always figure out a way to win the little game they were playing. It’s just that sometimes he wished he could take a break from the competition.

  Jonathon tried to think kind thoughts about Felicia and the solicitor. He kept telling himself that Thumbs was only doing his job...doing what his uncle had engaged him to do before Uncle Wart had passed away—to make sure that Uncle’s money was being used wisely after his departure.

  But somehow Jonathon couldn't really make himself see it that way. Thumbs seemed to go out of his way to make Jonathon’s life miserable...and sometimes worse. There was no doubt that Thumbs had completely allied himself with Felicia and there was even less doubt that Felicia was out to get him...to wrestle the control of Uncle’s fortune away from Jonathon and to throw him and his sister out on the street.

  He really couldn't blame Felicia—not completely. After all, she had planned on being the sole beneficiary of Uncle Wart’s fortune when he died. As far as she was concerned, Jonathon and his sister were just unwanted intruders. They had no business stepping in and coming between her and her father’s money. Jonathon and his sister were just a nephew and a niece to Uncle Wart and Felicia was his actual daughter. And it wasn't as if Uncle Wart hadn’t loved his daughter. It was just that he had known her very well. And among the things he had known about her was that she was an irresponsible, selfish and completely ruthless human being.

  As for Jonathon, well, he and Uncle Wart had never had a particularly warm and fuzzy relationship. But for some reason he knew that Uncle Wart had liked him. He had told Jonathon’s father on more than one occasion that ‘the boy has a head on his shoulder.’ To that, Jonathon’s father would usually smile and reply with ‘Well, his sister’s got a pretty nice head, too.’ But Uncle Wart had never made much of a connection with Lizzie and that's why he had left the complete control of his fortune to Jonathon alone. And of course that drove Felicia absolutely crazy.

  But although Felicia might have been a little bit crazy, she wasn't stupid. And she had been plotting devious ways in which she could grab control of Uncle’s fortune from Jonathon since the day the will was read. Jonathon knew that she represented a serious threat to him and he had to be aware of her at all times.

  As far as Mr. Thumbs was concerned, Jonathon was never quite sure if he was just naturally evil himself or just appeared that way because he had been bribed into working with Felicia (who was obviously an evil genius of the first rank). If Thumbs had been working for a better person, would he himself have been less obnoxious? Jonathon wasn't sure. He knew that he should probably give Thumbs the benefit of the doubt but, since the man was always trying to spoil Jonathon’s plans and trying to make him fail, he found that hard to do.

  And what about his sister, Lizzie? He knew that Lizzie missed their parents terribly, but she always acted as if she didn’t care about that or anything else. She had her friends, whom she was constantly texting. She had her favorite TV shows and she had her music, although Jonathon was always a little puzzled by her musical tastes, which seem to revolve around edgy death rockers from the 90s. He supposed it was her form of rebellion—to listen to music that almost everyone else hated.

  It wasn’t that Lizzie wasn’t clever. She was as smart as anybody he knew. But she refused to show it in any way that people might notice. It was almost as if she was trying to be as superficial as possible as a defense against feeling anything too strongly. Jonathon thought that was sort of sad, but he knew that people had to develop their own strategies for getting through tough times. And even though both Jonathon and Lizzie now lived comfortable lives in Uncle Wart’s fancy mansion, there was no use in trying to pretend that things hadn’t been very rough in many ways since their parents had died.

  And then there was Emma Wang, his and Lizzie’s tutor. Jonathon could never quite figure Emma out. She was a great tutor and had helped Jonathon and Lizzie in any number of ways since she had taken residence in Uncle Wart’s house as their live-in teacher. In some ways, Jonathon and Lizzie would have liked to go to a regular school like most other kids. But Uncle Wart’s will had not allowed that. So Jonathon and Lizzie were stuck at home all by themselves on most days. But Emma did what she could to make their lives not only bearable but actually interesting. They were forever going on field trips together and Emma seemed to have a million different ways of making learning fun…or at least almost fun.

  But despite Emma’s efforts, Jonathon still felt alone a lot of the time. Lizzie had some good friends that she managed to sneak in when Mr. Thumbs (who did not, on the whole, believe in friends) wasn’t looking. But it had been more difficult for Jonathon. He just wasn’t as naturally outgoing as Lizzie and, as a result, didn’t really have any close friends who might just drop in on the mansion when they were bored.

  In fact, in many ways Emma was his best friend. She was the one who was easiest to talk to. He knew that it was pathetic to have your tutor as your best friend and at some point he knew he had to get out there and make some other friends. But for now, it seemed okay to rely just on Emma.

  And Emma was so calm, she helped him relax. He wasn’t sure how she could be so mellow when it seemed that Mr. Thumbs was breathing down everyone’s neck all the time, but if Emma resented Mr. Thumbs, she never showed it. And Emma was kind to Felicia, too, even though Felicia didn’t show her face very often in Jonathon’s and Lizzie’s part of the mansion. Emma, of course, was fully aware of the fact that Felicia and Mr. Thumbs were always plotting against Jonathon and Lizzie, but for some reason she never got too upset about it. Even when Emma was helping Jonathon pull off one of his crazy schemes, she never seemed to get too excited. And that was great, because Lizzie had a tendency to get real excited—too excited—whenever Jonathon enlisted her in one of his plots. But not Emma—cool as a cucumber at all times.

  And this was one of those times when he thought he could borrow some of that coolness. Mr. Thumbs would get here any minute—Jonathon had arranged an appointment with him to get permission to buy the Diggersby painting—and no matter how hard he tried, Jonathon always seemed to get a little nervous when talking to Thumbs. Of course that was probably because Jonathon was almost always trying to put one over on Thumbs and was worried that he might give the game away. So far, Jonathon had been able to outsmart him every time, but you could never be sure. He knew that Thumbs didn’t trust him and was getting more and more skeptical of his plans. Still, he was fairly confident that he could once again keep Thumbs in the dark about his latest ploy.

  Just then, Mr. Thumbs strode briskly into the room, his expensive lawyer’s suit somewhat rumpled from the nap he had just been taking.

  “Jonathon, my boy!” said Mr. Thumbs, his jolly tone dripping with insincerity.

  Jonathon nodded. “Mr. Thumbs, I have a proposition for you.”

  “Oh, lovely!” said Mr. Thumbs, his eyes widening at the thought.

  “A business proposition. I think it’s time that I launch another of those risky ventures that Uncle Wart was so fond of.”

  “A splendid idea! You will recall that according to the terms of your dear uncle’s will, you are to undertake no fewer than four risky ventures each year. And, also according to the terms of the will, you must profit handsomely by each of them. Or else…”

  Jonathon sighed. “Yes, Mr. Thumbs. I understand the terms of the will very clearly. Or else I will lose control of Uncle’s millions.”

  “And they will pass instead to…”

  “Yes, to Felicia. I understand perfectly. Now let’s g
et down to business. I propose to attend the upcoming art auction at the Diggersby mansion and, at that auction, to purchase a painting.”

  Thumbs looked puzzled. “But Jonathon, my boy, I’m not sure I see the risk in that. My understanding is that the Diggersby collection features many famous and valuable paintings. Buying a painting of that sort hardly constitutes a risk.”

  “No,” replied Jonathon coolly. “I suppose it doesn’t, but I intend to purchase one painted by the recently deceased Mr. Diggersby himself.”

  “A painting by Diggersby himself? I understand that he was a mere dabbler.”

  Jonathon smiled. “I realize that Diggersby’s reputation as a painter was that of a not particularly talented amateur, but one of his paintings—one that was reproduced in the newspaper a couple of days ago—caught my eye.”

  Mr. Thumbs was almost shaking with suppressed glee. “Really? A painting by Diggersby caught your eye? And you intend to bid on it at the auction?”

  “Exactly.”

  “Well, that’s delightful…I mean,” said Mr. Thumbs as he tried to shift into a more serious tone of voice, “how interesting, I mean to say.”

  “Yes, it is, isn’t it?” Jonathon replied cheerfully. “And I’m sure it will meet Uncle Wart’s criterion of taking a risk. Wouldn’t you agree?”

  “A risk? Why it’s frankly absurd…” blustered Mr. Thumbs. Quickly catching himself, his face broke into an oily smile. “What I mean, of course, is that it’s an absurdly good idea. Yes, of course…one of Diggersby’s paintings. And have you decided which one?”

  “Oh yes. Only one of them really interests me,” said Jonathon, “the one titled ‘The Hand of Doom.’”

  “‘The Hand of Doom?’” asked Mr. Thumbs, his breaths starting to come in short gasps.

  “Sure. Why not?” Jonathon replied coolly. “I thought it had a lot of depth and emotional intensity…you know— the sort of painting that might be worth a lot of money someday.”

  “But isn’t that painting supposed to be haunted or possessed, or something else dangerous?”

  Jonathon yawned. “Of course not… just an old fairy tale. But if its bad reputation keeps the bidding down, that’s okay with me.”

  Mr. Thumbs narrowed his eyes. Although a little startled by Jonathon’s choice, he was now thinking that it could work to his advantage. “Well, if you say so, Jonathon. How much are you willing to spend?”

  “I figure it might go for a few hundred…you know—as a curiosity.”

  “I see. Well, I’ll approve a bid of up to one thousand dollars for the painting.”

  “Great, Mr. Thumbs! I appreciate your cooperation,” said Jonathon happily, grabbing and shaking Thumbs’ hand briefly before sprinting out of the room.

  Mr. Thumbs remained in the room alone, slowly shaking his head. “That boy is an even greater fool than I thought he was,” he said to himself as his face erupted into a wide grin.