Blink and You Die. Lauren Child
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would seem so.’
Elliot tapped his head and said, ‘I saw Bug lying by the diner door and I thought to myself, Ruby must be in here somewhere.’
‘Quite the little Sherlock Holmes,’ said Ruby.
Elliot slid into the seat next to Clancy. ‘So how’s the fruit baby?’
‘What?’ said Ruby.
‘He’s talking about the Lemon,’ explained Clancy.
The Lemon was Archie Lemon, one-year-old son of the Redforts’ neighbours Niles and Elaine Lemon, and a baby very lucky to be alive. Had it not been for Ruby’s decision to use him as a prop in the Halloween parade, Archie Lemon would have been asleep in his bedroom and the Twinford Tornado would have taken him with it when it whirled into the Lemons’ home, destroying Archie’s room. However, Archie had survived and his parents could not thank Ruby enough. In fact, it was getting to be a problem.
‘It must be cool,’ said Elliot.
‘It’s not,’ said Ruby.
‘Being a hero’s not cool?’ said Elliot.
‘I’m not a hero,’ said Ruby.
‘You saved that kid’s life,’ said Elliot.
‘I borrowed that baby because I needed him to play the part of Baby Grim in the pageant. I needed him because I wanted us to win. If we had won, we would have got prize money. That’s not heroic, it’s self-serving.’
‘But you saved his life,’ insisted Elliot.
‘Luck,’ said Ruby. ‘Coulda been the other way around, coulda been the tornado hit the pageant and it would all have been my fault and they woulda hated me for all eternity.’
‘Life is fickle,’ said Clancy.
‘People are fickle,’ corrected Ruby.
‘Still, it must be great, his parents thinking you’re a hero, even if you’re not … technically, I mean.’
‘It’s a pain in the butt,’ said Ruby. ‘Elaine calls round all the time asking me how I am.’ She sighed. ‘And she keeps giving me stuff.’
‘She’s giving you stuff?’ Elliot’s eyes grew big. ‘Like gifts and things?’
‘Yeah,’ said Ruby.
‘Oh boy,’ said Elliot, ‘I would love that.’
‘Would you?’ said Ruby. ‘Really? Cos I got a whole bunch of super ugly sweaters you can have: pink ones, purple ones, kitten ones …’
‘That’s what she’s giving you? Sweaters? Why sweaters?’ asked Clancy.
‘Her sister owns an “ugly knitwear” business,’ said Ruby.
‘Too bad,’ said Elliot.
‘Look, the point is not what she’s giving me, but that I don’t want her to give me anything.’
The bell over the diner door jangled and in walked Mouse Huxtable.
‘You’re back!’ she mouthed.
Ruby nodded. ‘So everyone keeps telling me.’
‘Well, you’ve been missed, that’s for sure,’ said Mouse. ‘Mrs Drisco’s been real grouchy.’
‘Why’s that?’ said Ruby. ‘I would have thought she would be happy to see the back of me.’
‘I think she misses the banter,’ said Mouse.
‘So what’s school been like since I left town?’ Ruby yawned.
‘Well,’ said Elliot, ‘it’s been a real hotbed of finger-pointing since you were cleared of trying to wreck Del’s life.’
‘I don’t think you can say “hotbed of finger-pointing”,’ said Mouse. ‘It doesn’t make a lotta sense.’
‘No,’ agreed Clancy, ‘it doesn’t sound right somehow.’
‘Like you can talk,’ said Elliot. ‘What was it you said the other day …’
Mouse broke in, ‘The point is, Elliot, Ruby’s off the hook and in the clear, everyone thinks it was someone from the outside, i.e. not a student at Twinford Junior High.’ She shook her head and looked at Ruby. ‘Boy, I guess someone really hates you out there.’
‘My money’s on Dakota Lyme,’ said Elliot.
‘Don’t be so sure,’ said Ruby, who knew for a certainty that it was not. ‘You gotta be careful making allegations against people, however objectionable they might be.’ It was actually the vengeful Lorelei von Leyden, mistress of disguise, who had set Ruby up as saboteur. Dakota Lyme was just a fall-guy.
Clancy checked his watch. ‘Yikes, I’d better get going. I have to pick up a load of cough syrup for my sisters or I’ll never hear the end of it – and I mean literally: cough, cough, cough.’ He pulled on his coat. ‘That thing we were talking about before, Rube, we’ll catch up first thing, OK?’ He shot her a look and she nodded.
‘OK,’ said Ruby.
Ruby hung out for another half hour before she headed off. She didn’t feel like going home just yet, so she turned the corner at Green Street and made a left at Main until she reached Ray Penny’s second-hand bookstore.
On a winter’s evening, with its cosy lighting and tropical heating (Ray hated to be cold), Penny Books was a pleasant place to kill time. The store was unusually busy today. Perhaps due to the warmth, and the fact that Ray wasn’t much bothered by making a sale, a lot of folks used the place like it was a library.
Ruby browsed the graphic novel shelves; apart from shuffling footsteps as customers edged around bookstands, all that could be heard was the classical music playing on Ray’s turntable and the sound of turning pages. Ruby stepped past a bearded guy who was sitting on a stool looking at a book with a beige cover. He wasn’t browsing, he was most definitely reading. In another corner was a boy flicking through a comic while he snacked on a flapjack.
Ruby herself settled down with a pile of Space Creep novels and began working her way through them. A moment later she was roused from her reading by the sound of falling books. Through a gap in the shelving, she could see part of a face, serious and intense. It belonged to a young woman who was clutching a pile of poetry books, and continuing to browse even though her arms were already full. Too full. Every now and again one of the poetry books would slide out from the pile and hit the floor and she would mutter, ‘whoops’ or ‘darn’ or ‘for flip’s sake!’
After the fifth drop, the guy with the beard looked up and said, ‘Here, let me help you with those.’ He put his book down on the stool and took the stack of paperbacks to the front desk.
The young woman was very grateful. ‘Thanks a lot, that’s so kind, thank you, real nice of you, thank you again.’
Ruby was curious to know what had kept the bearded man so enthralled for the past forty-four minutes and sauntered over to take a look. The object of interest turned out to be a book entitled Fascinating Fungi.
Ruby didn’t doubt that the study of fungi might be fascinating, but this book was not presented in a way that would entice the casual browser. With its old black-and-white photographs and dense text, you really needed to be a total fungus nut to want to pick it up. But as Mrs Digby would say, ‘it takes all sorts’. Ruby had never been a big fan of edible fungi, and even when in a survival-type situation hadn’t been overjoyed to see one. However, the poisonous kind interested her quite a lot.
Ruby knew a great deal about poison in all its various forms, and her knowledge in this area had grown in recent weeks due to a series of attempts on the life of the Mongolian conservationist Amarjargel Oidov, organised it seemed by the Count and presumably his employer. No one exactly understood