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‘So the other thing you’re not telling me.’
‘What thing?’ said Ruby.
‘I don’t know,’ said Clancy. ‘That’s why I’m asking.’
‘OK …’ she said, ‘but don’t get all worked up … you gotta …’
‘I knew it!’ he said. ‘Something happened, didn’t it? It was just after I got outta hospital, after the Halloween pageant, the day before you went off to camp, am I right, am I, am I right?’ Now he was beginning to flap.
‘Clance, you promised you wouldn’t flap.’
Clancy ignored her and continued flapping.
‘Look Clance, the thing is …’
But he wasn’t finished. ‘Something spooked you, really spooked you.’ He was getting all dramatic now, Ruby hated when he got all dramatic – at least, hated when he got dramatic about things that were actually already dramatic.
‘Then you suddenly took off without a word. I knew there had to be a bigger reason than hanging out with nerds at some crummy nerd camp and I knew there had to be a bigger reason than just the usual Count encounter.’
‘Just the usual Count encounter …?’ spluttered Ruby. ‘The usual—’
‘So what was it that spooked you just after Halloween?’ interrupted Clancy.
‘Well, it wasn’t any kids dressed up as ghouls, I can promise you that,’ said Ruby.
‘That I figured,’ said Clancy. ‘But why didn’t you tell me what happened, you know, after … that night in the crypt –’ his voice was a little shaky now – ‘with the undead and … and, you know –’ he paused, before whispering – ‘the psychopath.’
‘Just a regular Tuesday night in Twinford.’
But Clancy was in no mood for making light. He was just looking at her, waiting for her to spill the beans.
She breathed in a long slow breath, exhaled and stared back at him.
‘Well, I was going to tell you, of course I was, but I needed time to think.’
‘About what?’ asked Clancy.
‘Everything,’ she replied. ‘It’s a big deal what I know, and I haven’t told a soul.’
‘No one? But you musta told Hitch?’
Ruby shook her head.
‘Blacker?’ asked Clancy.
‘No one,’ said Ruby.
‘So,’ said Clancy, ‘what is it?’
‘Not here,’ said Ruby, looking around. ‘Let’s move to that booth in the corner. I don’t want to risk being overheard – you know, walls have ears and all that.’
They slid off their stools and took their drinks over to the other side of the diner where the lighting was dimmer and the customers fewer.
‘So,’ said Ruby, ‘ever heard the phrase “a bad apple”?’
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CLANCY DID NOT HAVE TIME to answer Ruby’s question, nor to wonder what apples had to do with anything, because they were interrupted.
‘Hey! Ruby!’
The voice came from across the busy diner and belonged to Elliot Finch.
‘You’re back,’ he called.
Ruby peered at her reflection in the chrome serviette dispenser. She nodded. ‘It 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 why Oidov had become the target of a murderer, but it seemed likely that it was connected to the ancient and previously undiscovered species of snake she was seeking to protect. The reptiles were an incredible yellow and marked with delicate diamonds of colour. The skins would fetch high prices in the fashion trade and the venom might also be of interest to toxicologists.
Coincidentally, one of the unusual things about the snake was that it feasted on mushrooms. Why the snakes were of interest to the Count, or indeed the Count’s boss, was still an unknown.
Ruby checked her watch: it was getting late and probably time to head home. She thanked Ray, who merely raised his hand in a lazy ‘bye-bye’, and Ruby pushed her way out into the cold night air.
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IT WAS ANOTHER COINCIDENCE that when Ruby returned home that evening it was fungus that was the main topic of conversation.
Mrs Digby was staring hard at a very ancient-looking recipe book and appeared unusually flustered.
‘So what are you looking to cook?’ asked Ruby, peering over the housekeeper’s shoulder.
‘Your mother wants me to rustle up this particular stew – she’s got her mind set on it, but I’ll be darned if I will ever find the ingredients.’
‘Maitake,’ Ruby read. ‘What are maitake?’
‘Hen of the woods,’ said Mrs Digby.
‘Chicken?’ said Ruby.
‘Mushrooms,’ said the housekeeper.
‘What’s the big deal with mushrooms all of a sudden?’ said Ruby. ‘They seem to be popping up everywhere.’
‘Everyone’s gone mushroom crazy, including your mother, and I can’t get my hands on a single one of these rarer breeds.’
‘Breeds?’ said Ruby. ‘Do mushrooms breed?’
‘My point is, there’s been a run on them, and it’s all to do with those darned vipers.’
