The Further Adventures of Jack Lime (5 page)

“What are you doing here?” he asked, snatching the cookie off my plate and taking a big bite.

“Lance's comeback the other day was something else, wasn't it?”

“Sure,” he said, “but what's it to you?”

“I'll tell you what it is to me, friend. I think it's all too convenient. It's too convenient for Mike, and it's too convenient for Lance Munroe. The only person it's not convenient for is you and your short friend.”

“Ollie?”

“What if I told you I know a surefire way for you and Ollie to get your money back.”

“I'd say you were nuts, Lime.”

“Hear me out, and if you still think I'm loony tunes at the end of my speech, then I'll leave you and your cookies alone forevermore. What do you say?”

“This better be good,” he said, sitting down.

“It's better than good,” I said, and explained my plan.

Monday, October 7, 12:10 p.m.
Iona High, The Cafeteria

Stanley Putz didn't think my plan was nuts. In fact, he liked it enough that he convinced his friend Ollie to help us out. I called Pepperton on Sunday night to confirm that the operation was a go, and by lunch on Monday, the trap was set.

At precisely ten minutes after twelve, I watched Stan and Ollie walk into the cafeteria from my position in a nearby stairwell. Five minutes later they came out with Mike the Bookie. Unfortunately Heavy stomped out behind them. I'd been afraid that my visit to the dodgeball game the other night might've spooked him. I figured he might have a little extra protection today, so I'd arranged for a diversion. That's where Gregory Pepperton fit into this plan.

Mike and the rubes filed into the boys' bathroom while Heavy guarded the door and looked mean. Pepperton was standing at the end of the hall. I gave him a nod, and he came my way carrying four large boxes.

“What you got there?” Heavy asked as Pepperton walked by.

“Doughnuts,” Pepperton said with a smile. “I'm giving them away in the cafeteria!”

“I have a better idea, Poindexter,” Heavy said, stepping forward. “Why don't you give them to me and save yourself a lot of trouble.”

“But … I'm supposed to …” Pepperton stammered, then he decided it'd be a whole lot easier to just make a break for the cafeteria. Heavy clomped after him while I darted across the hall and slipped into the boys' bathroom. The two rubes were about to place their bets when I arrived.

“Are you sure you want to bet that much?” Mike asked. “Do you guys even have that much money?”

“We're good for it,” Stanley said, flashing a thick roll of banknotes.

Mike took out his little black book and scribbled down the bets.

“You know,” I said, strolling toward Mike, “I wouldn't mind betting a few bones on the Warriors.”

“Get lost, Lime!” Mike barked.

“What? Can't I bet on the game, too?”

“Sanders! Get in here!” Mike hollered.

“Heavy is busy chasing doughnuts,” I said. “So you may as well put a lid on it.”

Mike tried to tuck his notebook into his pocket, but Stanley snatched it away and handed it over.

“What's the deal!” Mike yelled.

“This little black book of yours has a lot of incriminating evidence in it,” I said, flipping through the pages. “There are a lot of names with a lot of numbers, which means there are going to be a lot of kids in big trouble when I hand this over to Principal Snit.”

“You wouldn't,” Mike said.

“You bet I would, buster,” I said. “I'd be happy to nail a small-time flimflam artist like you, Mike. And when Snit gets a load of this book, he's going to expel you faster than you can say GED.”

“You're bluffing,” Mike said.

“No, I'm not,” I said. “But there might be a way for you to squirm out of this mess.”

“You're both going to be in a heap of trouble when I walk out of here,” Mike said, staring down the two rubes.

I heard one of them gulp and knew I needed to finish this fast.

“You're not going to touch a single hair on their sweet little heads, Mikey. If you do, I'm going straight to Snit, and you're going to be the fall guy for this nasty gambling operation. But you can end it all right here. All you have to do is three very simple things. First, you give these two unlucky saps their fifty bucks back. Second, you pay me one hundred and twenty-five bones. That's what it's going to cost to fix my bike. And last but not least, you're going to send Lance Munroe a text tonight at eight o'clock. Just like the messages you've been sending him all along.”

“I don't know what you're talking about, Lime,” Mike said.

“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.