The Further Adventures of Jack Lime (9 page)

“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.

“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.

“It was easy,” Madeleine said. “I just experimented with different shades of green and —”

I held up my hand and cut her off. “No … how did you … get the painting?”

“I knew about the ransom note,” Julian said, “so I decided to come here a little early to see if I could catch the thief in action.”

“And guess what, Jack?” KC said, slapping me on the back. “He did!”

“I just got lucky,” Julian said, shrugging. “He was coming out of the bathroom with the painting. I grabbed it and he ran away.”

“Who?” I asked.

“I don't know,” Julian said. “He was wearing a mask.”

“Are you okay, Jack?” KC asked. “Why are you so sweaty?”

“I'll tell you another time,” I said.

“Well, why don't you come back to the school with us? We're all going to help get ready for the big show tonight,” KC said. “I'm sure Madeleine would love to have you there, even if you didn't solve the mystery.”

Madeleine smiled and nodded.

“I need a drink first,” I said. “And then a very long shower.”

“We'll see you later, then,” KC said, and they all left me standing at the station.

I wiped my brow and headed for the exit. It'd been a long day. I needed time to think and a tall, frosty root beer float.

Thursday, October 10, 5:51 p.m.
29A Main Street, The Diner

I spent my time at The Diner sipping on my float and mulling over what just happened. Cain and Mike the Bookie had played me like a fiddle and I'd squeaked out all the right notes. I finished my float and decided to look into this mess later. It was time to go home and get some real grub. Tonight was meatloaf night, my favorite night of the week, but when I reached for my wallet, I realized I still had Julian's phone in my pocket. I knew he was back at the school, helping Madeleine get set up for the art exhibit, so I figured the gentlemanly thing to do was to return it ASAP. Especially since he'd managed to save the day, no thanks to me, of course.