The Further Adventures of Jack Lime (17 page)

Friday, November 1, 12:45 p.m.
21 Titan Trail, Iona Middle School

I only got accosted about a half dozen times that morning by angry clods who had watched Cain's video and bought his outrageous lies hook, line and sinker. But that didn't faze me. I had bigger fish to fry and a plan that needed to be put into action. So at lunch I strolled over to Iona Middle School. The way I figured it, Ronny Kutcher was the weak link in all of this, and I wanted to see what I could wring out of him.

I arrived there about halfway through the lunch break and got comfortable under a big tree across the street. Ronny lived close enough to the school to go home for lunch, so I played the odds and waited to catch him coming back. He arrived about fifteen minutes before the bell rang, riding a red mountain bike. He pulled up to the fence on the side of the parking lot and locked it up. While he was doing that, I made a beeline for the front doors and scanned the walls for a hidden camera. I had to hand it to the suits at Luxemcorp — obviously they didn't mind spending a few bucks on their surveillance equipment, and I was betting someone in the head office was excited about this cloak-and-dagger stuff. The tiny camera was encased in the wall just above the front door, between two bricks, and if Snit hadn't told me they'd been installed, I never would've spotted it. By now Ronny was strolling toward the side of the school, whistling “Happy Birthday” and looking smug.

“Hello, Ronny,” I called, “fancy meeting you here.”

He stopped whistling and frowned. “What are you doing here, Lime?”

“I'm here to give you a last chance.”

“What's that supposed to mean?” he said, coming over to meet me.

“I've got a photo of you in the gym at Iona High about five seconds after Tyler Butts's comic was stolen.”

“So what?” he said, his little eyes shifting from the left to the right.

“I'll tell you so what, buster. That photo places you at the scene of the crime, and I'm willing to bet that I can find a few witnesses who would ID you as the sap that tripped up Tyler when he tried to go after the perp.”

“There's no law against tripping someone,” he said.

“No,” I said, inching backward, a little closer to the camera, “but I'm sure you're aware there is a rule against middle school students loitering at Iona High.”

“I just wanted to see the comics.”

“Well, that's just the thing, Ronny. I'm going to have to show that photo to Mr. Snit and then he's going to have to show it to your principal and then they're going to start asking you questions. And I'm betting that a tyke like you won't hold up all that well when you're sitting in an office, feeling the squeeze from your principal. Especially when I throw in a few eyewitnesses who will confirm you were aiding and abetting a criminal like Sebastian Cain.”

Ronny's mouth dropped open.

“Oh sure, I know Cain had the table next to the doors and was working the lights for this insidious operation. It's only a matter of time before I can prove that Mike the Bookie was the one who snatched Tyler's comic.”

“What … how … no …”

“Quit with the mumbling, Ron. It doesn't suit someone of your diminutive stature. You shouldn't've met with each other last night at Pop's, not so soon after the crime. Plus, Mike's my height and build. You cover him up in black and nobody would know the difference.”

“That doesn't prove anything,” he said.

“Maybe, maybe not, but when I pull out that photo, the ball's going to start rolling and it's heading right at you, Ronny. One way or another, you're getting squished, and that's why I'm your last chance. You might be able to toss a bicycle in a river, but you're not smart enough, or bold enough, to pull off a sting like this. So who's the wizard behind the curtain? Is it Cain? Is it Mike?”

He giggled.

“Something funny?”

“You're wrong again, Lime,” he said, grinning up at me.

“Who's in charge, Ronny? Fess up or you're going down.”

He giggled some more. I wanted to grab him and shake him a bit, but I'd lured him closer to that hidden camera for a reason and I couldn't risk losing my cool.

“Spit it out, kid! I know it wasn't you! You're just a pint-sized pip-squeak that they used to trip up Tyler. So stop your snickering and spit it out!”

Ronny quit with the chuckling quick, fast, in a hurry. “You're wrong! It wasn't Mike or Cain or Bucky!” he said. “It was me, me and my friend. We planned it, we stole the comic and we pinned it on you, Limey. Mike and Cain were just following orders. They just did whatever … my friend told them to do.”

“What friend?” I said.

He smiled. “My friend is smart, Jack. Smarter than you. My friend knows about a lot of different things and is going to beat you and make you leave Iona forever.”

“I don't have time for your kind of crazy, Ronny,” I said. “I guess I'm going to have to show Mr. Snit that photo, after all. Good luck with your nutty tale when you're getting the squeeze from the powers that be.”

I pushed past Ronny and was starting down the stairs when an extremely tall black-haired lady wearing a navy blue suit came striding across the parking lot.

“Excuse me!” she called, barreling toward me. “What are you doing here?”

“He said he was going to beat me up!” Ronny cried, before I even had a chance to open my mouth.

“He was threatening me! He wanted money, Mrs. Snurt!” Ronny continued, blathering behind me.

“Who are you, young man?” she asked.

“Who are you?” I asked.

“I'm the principal here,” she said, glaring at me. “Now answer the question, who are you?”

“I'm Jack Lime.”

“
The
Jack Lime?” she said, her eyebrows shooting up.

“That's right.”

“Well, I think we all need to step inside,” she said, practically sprinting up the stairs and opening the door. “Now!”

“My pleasure,” I said.

“He said he wanted twenty dollars or he'd beat me up,” Ronny said, rushing past me.

“Don't worry, I'll get to the bottom of this,” Snurt said, marching down the hallway.

She hustled down to the main office, told us to take a seat and turned to a blond woman who was sitting behind the desk, furiously typing away on a laptop.

“May I have a word with you, Ms. Van Kramp?” Snurt asked.

“Ms. Van Kramp?” I blurted.

“Yes, I'm Elizabeth Van Kramp,” she said, looking over at me. She had dazzling blue eyes, the color of the sky on a perfect summer day, and was wearing a red skirt with a red sleeveless top and a strand of pearls around her neck. She was a knockout, and if I hadn't been in the middle of a case, I might've asked her out for a root beer float, despite the small age difference. I also noticed she had a British accent that matched Mr. Van Kramp's. “May I help you?”

“Are you married to Mr. Van Kramp?” I asked.

“He's my older brother,” she said, flashing me a flawless smile.

“Ms. Van Kramp,” Snurt said again, “just a moment of your time, please.”

They stepped into a far corner of the room, and Snurt started explaining the situation in a whisper. I was about to give Ronny one more chance to come clean when I noticed three photos taped to the wall beside the door. Each belonged to a different kid, and under each one was an allergy warning. Normally that kind of thing wouldn't give me a small heart attack, except the photo on the far right belonged to a kid that I recognized. It was a small boy with blond hair and blue eyes. I knew him as Jake Clim, but the name under his photo said Tomas Van Kramp.

“Tomas Van Kramp!” I exclaimed, leaping out of my chair. “Tomas Van Kramp!”

“What?” Ms. Van Kramp said, turning to me.

“Tomas Van Kramp,” I said, turning to Ronny. “He planned it all, didn't he?”

Ronny just stared straight ahead.

“What?” Ms. Van Kramp asked.

“Is he your son?” I asked.

“No,” she said, frowning. She looked downright insulted and I think our future together was in serious jeopardy. “He's my younger brother. What did you say about him?”

“Oh, nothing,” I said, sitting back down, “but I think Ronny is his friend. He's your friend, isn't he, Ronny? He's your very smart friend, isn't he?”

“Stop picking on me!” Ronny wailed.

Snurt stalked across the room. “Now see here,” she said, “high school students are not permitted on the middle school grounds, and they're certainly not allowed to intimidate my students.”

“You can't prove anything,” I said, waving her away. “It's his word against mine.”

Snurt's eyes blazed. “Come with me,” she said through clenched teeth. “You stay here, Ronny,” she added, and led me down to her office.

“Take a seat,” she said, closing the door behind us.

I did as she asked and noticed that she had two monitors on her desk, just like Snit. This whole crazy gambit might actually pay off.

“You can't prove anything,” I said again.

She pursed her lips, sat down at her desk and fumbled around with a few buttons on her computer.

We sat there in silence for about thirty seconds, and then she looked up and glared at me. “Now we'll see,” she said, swiveling the monitor around so that I could see the screen, “who's telling the truth.”

There I was, the star of the show, in Technicolor, standing in front of the school, frozen in time.

“You didn't expect this, did you, Mr. Lime?” she said. Before I could answer, she pressed Play.

“Hello, Ronny,” I said, “fancy meeting you here.”

We sat there and watched the whole give-and-take between me and Ronny play out. I have to admit, I enjoyed watching Snurt's face go from confident to confused when Ronny started chirping about how he and his friend had stolen Tyler's comic. By the time she came striding onto the screen to confront me, her face had gone from confused to just old-fashioned angry.

“High school students are not permitted on the middle school grounds. I don't want to see you here again,” she said, stopping the video clip and standing up. “Now if you'll excuse me, I'd like to have a word with Ronny.”

“I have more proof,” I said. “I've got a photo of Ronny in the gym, moments before Tyler Butts's comic was stolen. Plus, if you ask to see the security tapes at the train station, they'll corroborate my alibi and prove that Tomas Van Kramp met with me there two days ago. They might also show who actually put Tyler's comic book in the locker. And that's the truth, Ms. Snurt.”

“Thank you, Mr. Lime. I'll be contacting Mr. Snit this afternoon. We'll investigate this matter together,” she said. “Could you please tell Ronny to see me on your way out.”

“My pleasure,” I said, and left.

When I strolled into the main office, I told Ronny that Snurt wanted to have a little chat. Ronny got white in the face and weak in the knees. I think I even heard his teeth chattering as he walked by.

“Say hello to Tomas for me,” I said to Ms. Van Kramp on my way out.

“Does he know you?” she asked, looking up from her laptop.

“We met once,” I said and headed back to school.

Friday, November 1, 4:59 p.m.
A street with no name, Grandma's House

“That all went down today at lunch,” I said, looking across the kitchen table at KC. “By two o'clock I was getting hauled down to Snit's office for an emergency meeting. I got the impression that Ronny cracked faster than an egg in an omelet shop and spilled the beans about everything. Snit even asked me about Tomas Van Kramp and our meeting at the train station. On my way out, I got to say a friendly hello to Cain and Mike the Bookie, who were sitting in the main office looking glum. Long story short, their criminal organization is getting blown apart like a deck of cards in a hurricane. Just the same, half the school still thinks I'm a two-bit scam artist, thanks to that video, so I'm sure you can see how having this story in your newspaper would help clear my name.”

“I can see that, Jack,” she said, “but I don't know if I can run it.”

“What do you mean, you don't know if you can run it? This is the biggest crime story to ever come out of Iona High.”

“I don't know if Mr. Snit would let me print it if Tomas Van Kramp is involved.”

“What's so important about Tomas Van Kramp?”

“You know who the Van Kramps are, right, Jack?”

“A family with a knack for producing school secretaries?”

“They're not actually the secretaries, Jack.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Do you know who Anton Van Kramp is?”

“Should I?”

“Anton Van Kramp owns Luxemcorp, Jack. Born in Switzerland, sixty-four years old, and the seventh richest man in the world. He's currently married to Maria Van Kramp, and they have three children: Victor, Elizabeth and Tomas.”