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Alibi High
  • Текст добавлен: 21 сентября 2016, 14:05

Текст книги "Alibi High"


Автор книги: Jeff Shelby



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Текущая страница: 12 (всего у книги 15 страниц)

THIRTY THREE

I stormed out of Evelyn Bingledorf's office, mad, sad and unsure of what to do about any of it . I stomped down the hallway, back to my temporary home, ready to hash it out with spill my entire conversation with the pres ident to Charlotte , but . But her desk was still empty, no sign that she'd even stepped into her office that morning. her desk was empty and I didn't see any sign that she'd been there. The copier was quiet, which meant Harriet was gone, too.

So I stomped back down to Ellen's desk and asked her if she knew where Charlotte was. She shrank back a little at my tone and I felt a twinge of remorse for taking out my anger on her.

“ She called in sick,” she said. “Do you need something? I can help. Or I can call her at home. Maybe she's not that sick...”

“ No,” I said quickly, trying to keep the anger and frustration out of my voice. “It's not that big o f a deal.”

To which she informed that she'd called in sick for the day. So I I turned on my heel and stomped back down to my office again with no plan. , with no one to talk to and nothing to do about what I'd just heard.

The stomping didn't help.

I collapsed into my chair and laid my head down on my desk. I was exhausted. I didn't want to know anything that I knew. I wanted to turn the clock back a week and make sure I did anything but volunteer my time at Prism. Now, I felt like the captai n of the Titanic – I knew the school was about to crash and burn on the verge of sinking and there was n't much I could do about nothing I could do to stop it. I sighed. I didn't usually do helpless very well, but at that moment, I felt like the weakest person in the world because I had no solutions or answers.

A knock on the door broke up my pity party and I sat up straight, expecting to see another student looking for their guidance counselor .

“Did I wake you?” Miles Riggler asked. “I'm sorry.”

“No, no,” I told him , forcing a smile on to my face . “ It's fine. I was just...I don't know what I was doing. ” I shook my head and brightened my smile. “ Anyway . I , i t's fine. I'm awake. How are you?”

“I'm alright,” he said. His hands were shoved in the pockets of his brown corduroys and he had a goofy grin plastered to his face. “And I think I might have some good news for you.”

“I could absolutely use some of that.”

“Do you have room for four more acts in the talent show?” he asked.

“Four more?” I said. “You're kidding.”

He shook his head. “I'm not. I talked to a few of my students.” He glanced over his shoulder , taking stock of who might be in the hallway before turning back to me. out into the hallway, then back at me. “You've been very kind to me and I wanted to help. So I've been hassling my students about performing. I've managed to wrangle four of them into agreeing to sign signing up. They'll be coming to see you today to get their names on the list.”

That was exactly the kind of news I needed to hear. “That's fantastic. Thank you so much.”

“I might be able to get you a few more,” he said. “If you need them.”

“I need them,” I said. “I'll take as many as you can send to me.”

He nodded. “Alright. I'll keep trying then. It's the least I can do after...everything.”

Right at that moment, I crossed Miles Riggler off my mental suspect list. If he'd had anything to do with the computer theft, I didn't think he'd be looking to help out with the fundraiser. And he just seemed to o genuine in his gratitude and relief that I was willing to keep his secret. I didn't believe he was a the computer thief.

“Thank you,” I said again. “I really appreciate it.”

“I should be the one thanking you,” he said with an embarrassed smile.

“Well, thanks for coming to tell me,” I said, then waved a hand in the direction of Charlotte's desk. “Breaks up the quiet of my lonely office since Charlotte's out today.”

He glanced at her desk. “Ah, yes. I guess it is Friday, isn't it?”

I looked at him, not understanding. “She's always sick on Fridays?” I wondered what kind of illness hit every seven days.

He closed the door to the office. “She calls in sick on Fridays . ,” he explained. He lowered his voice. “ But I don't think she's really sick.”

Um. Okay. .. ”

“Charlotte has...an issue,” he said. “I didn't really believe it at first, but now, I'm pretty sure it's true.”

I thought about what Emily and Bailey t had t old me. “Gambling?”

He raised an eyebrow. “So you've already seen it?”

“Just heard about it, but I wasn't sure if it was real or gossip or what.”

“Unfortunately, I think it's pretty real,” he said. “ I hate rumors and gossip as much as the next person, but  I don't think anyone can deny what's going on. She's usually out on Fridays with some excuse, but I think it's usually because she's up at the casino.”

“River Wind?”

He nodded. “Yep. I know that a couple of other faculty members have seen her up there on the weekends and one of them took a Friday off not too long ago because he had family in town and they went up there for the day.” He shook his head again lowered his voice to a whisper . “He saw here there, playing cards. I guess he didn't say anything to her because he already had heard the rumors but and because he didn't want to cause a scene or anything.” He paused. “But she'd called in sick that day, too. She's apparently there a lot. It's supposed to be this big secret and no one talks about it, but I swear. I'm not sure don't think you could find a single employee in this building who doesn't know about it.” He glanced at his watch. “I've gotta get back to my room. I'll make sure those kids find you today.”

My head was spinning but I I somehow managed to thank ed him and before he left.

And then I laid my head back down on the desk . and sighed.

Prism was a mess. An incompetent principal president who wanted out. Teachers that who weren't qualified to do their jobs. A PTA president more concerned with her husband's failing business than the goings-on at school. Financial issues. A counselor who or may not have had a gambling problem. It wasn't a school. It was a soap opera.

And I thought about my daughter, sitting in some classroom, listening to her teacher lecture or working on a lab or whispering to her friends. I didn't want to pull Emily out, but I genuinely believed we'd have to consider it. I couldn't in good conscience send her to a nuthouse that was masquerading as a school. I knew that if we got to that point, she'd be furious and I couldn't blame her. She wasn't seeing what I was seeing and I wasn't sure it would matter to her , anyway. She cared about her friends mostly and leaving Prism would mean leaving them and I wasn't sure there was anything I could tell her that might persuade her that leaving was in her best interest. . But I was having trouble finding adults who seemed responsible enough, invested enough and capable enough of working to work in a place that I 'd entrusted with my kid.

I sighed again .

I felt like a lot of teenagers probably did , right at that moment.

School sucked.

THIRTY FOUR

I was not productive.

I spent most of the day moping, preoccupied, sitting at my desk and staring at the wall. I couldn't find the motivation to continue with sign-ups and organizing the talent show. Before, I'd l at east convinced myself it was worth doing because the school needed help and because Emily loved the school. But after the past few days and the revelations that morning, I couldn't muster any more fake enthusiam for doing anything Prism-related.

So I called Brenda after lunch, told her that I'd be home early that night afternoon and she said she'd have Johnny deliver the kids back home at four. The final bell rang and it was like I'd been sprung from prison. I wasn't brave enough to leave before the end of the day, but as soon as I heard that bell go off, I snatched my stuff and headed for home.

I changed into jeans and a T-shirt, pulled steaks from the freezer for dinner and was peeling potatoes when I heard the tires of Johnny's van crunch against the gravel driveway. Shouts echoed in the early evening late afternoon breeze and I saw Johnny through the window of the back door.

I pulled the door open. “Right on time. Thank you for brin g ing them early.”

“No problem at all ,” he said, smiling. “I told them all to hit the trampoline because I wanted to talk to you for a second. You have a minute some time ?”

“Sure,” I said, waving him into the kitchen. I grabbed my peeler and went back to skinning the potatoes at the counter. “What's up?”

He closed the door behind him and glanced toward the front of the house. “Is Emily home yet?”

I shook my head. “No. She went to Bailey's house after school. Did you need her?”

“No,” he said, leaning back against the door. “Just didn't think I should talk about this in front of her.”

I set the peeler down on the counter next to the wet potatoes. “Well, that sounds serious.”

He shrugged. “Not so much serious, as just, I don't know. Just probably something you might not want her to hear.”

“Me?”

He nodded. “Yeah. I've, uh, been asking around. About those computers from her school.”

I brushed off my hands, stray peels falling onto the cutting board. “Okay.”

“I'm on all sorts of online forums,” he explained. “With other IT guys and stuff. You can pretty much find out anything you need to know. Good resources for work-related stuff and goof around stuff, too. Like fantasy football.”

I laughed. “Okay.”

He kind of smiled. “Got ta have fun, too, right? Anyway, I've been looking around in the forums, just checking to see if anything popped up that looked a little weird or whatever.” He adjusted his glasses. “And I'm pretty sure I found something.”

A tiny knot tied itself in my stomach. “Really?”

He nodded. “Yeah. Sort of a guy I know. Just from the forums. But I knew he was local. He was offering up some things for sale that sounded pretty similar to what you said was taken from Prism.” He paused. “I'm not totally sure, but it sounds an awful lot like what you told me and like he's trying to move them.”

I reached for a dish towel and dried off my hands. “Did you talk to him?”

“Sorta,” Johnny said. “I didn't wanna be overt about it. So I tried to be cool, just act ed like I was interested in what he was selling, that kind of thing.” He paused. “I've watched a lot of spy movies, so I think I pulled it off.”

“Spy movies?”

“Sure,” he said, adjusting the glasses again. “James Bond, that kind of stuff. I know how to play it cool and not give it all away.”

“Um, okay,” I said, trying hard to picture Johnny as James Bond. “Wow. Okay.”

He shrugged. “I wasn't exactly sure what I should do, so I figured I'd tell you. We could call the police and let them talk to the guy. If he'd meet with them. I'm not sure he would, though.”

If he the online guy was trying to sell stolen computers on some sort of underground black market, I was pretty sure he wouldn't be open to a meet up with the police. If anything, he'd probably disappear if he got wind of anything like that.

“He probably wouldn't,” I said. “Would he meet you?”

He raised his eyebrows. “Me? I'm not sure. Maybe.”

I knew I was entering what Jake called The Daisy Danger Zone, where my ideas carried me maybe a little further than the rational person would go. I wasn't a police officer and I wasn't exactly sure what I'd do if I found out the guy Johnny was talking about was the one that who stole Prism's computers, but in my head, it made sense to me that it might be good to know who that person was and if I knew who he was then I could report him to the police.

Or something like that.

“Try,” I said. “See if he'll meet with you ? . ”

“Right now?”

“Sure,” I said. “Can you?”

He whipped out his phone and started tapping away at the screen. “Of course. Man, being a spy is kinda fun, you know?”

I went back to my potatoes, grabbing the grater and peeling the skin from the remaining potatoes tubers , trying to get my head straight while Johnny typed away on his phone. What if the guy said yes? Where would I meet him? Then what would I do? The knot in my stomach starting bouncing around like a pinball.

“And can you maybe not tell Brenda I'm doing this?” he aske d, d quietly. “She's not really down with my spy aspirations.”

“Our secret,” I said, thinking I might have to ask him the same thing so that Jake didn't commit me to an asylum.

“Thanks,” he said, still staring at the screen and tapping away. “Will save me some grief.” He paused and then glanced at me. “I need to make a quick call. Is that alright?”

“Sure.”

He walked into the living room, his f eet ootsteps echoing on the hardwood floors.

I pulled a large pot from the cupboard and filled it with water, then set it on the stove. I heard Johnny's voice on the other side of the house, but couldn't make out the words. I didn't know if he was talking to the guy he'd communicated with online, someone else for work , or with Brenda. I tried to focus on my potatoes.

He was back a minute later. “ Um, okay. So I talked to him.”

“And?”

“He'll meet with me,” Johnny said, fidgeting with his glasses. “I told him there'd probably be another person there. Meaning you. And I just told him I was interested in buying what he was selling.”

I gripped the potato in my hand. “ Alright. Wow. Really? We can meet with him.”

“Yep.”

I immediately had wild thoughts of recovering the computers, canceling the talent show and being done with the whole fiasco. I wasn't sure how that was all going to come to fruition just from meeting some random guy and pretend ing like we wanted to buy some stolen computers, but I wasn't really dealing with reality at that moment.

“One catch, though,” Johnny said.

“A catch?”

“Yeah.”

“What is it?'

He adjusted his glasses. “We have to go meet with him right now.”

THIRTY FIVE

“This is ridiculous,” I said, staring out the passenger window of Johnny's mini-van.

I'd set the potatoes aside, called of the kids in the house and told Will he was in charge because Johnny and I needed to go run an errand.

“What kind of an errand?” he 'd asked, narrowing his eyes.

“Just...an errand.”

“Does Jake know?”

“No. He won't be home for a bit and we'll be back before he gets here.”

“Why doesn't he know?”

I sighed, exasperated. “Because he doesn't. So you are in charge until I get back. Got it?”

He clicked his tongue. “I feel like there should be some compensation. Being in charge of all these kids is kind of a big deal. If anything were to happen. Or, say, Jake called – ”

“Ten bucks,” I said. “Payable when I get back.”

“Deal,” he said, grinning. “Enjoy your errands.”

So after I was done dealing with the Junior Extortionist, Johnny and I hopped in his mini-van and headed for the meetup with his contact. Which made it sound like we were actually spies. Or mildly insane.

“What is ridiculous ?” Johnny asked, focusing on the traffic on Main Street.

“This,” I said, waving a hand in front of me. “Going to meet with some guy about some stolen computers. We don't even know th at they are ey're the Prism ones and even if they are, what are we going to do about it? Make a citizen's arrest?”

“Is that a real thing? A citizen's arrest?”

“I have no idea.”

He laughed and changed lanes, glancing in the rearview mirror. “Well, we can turn around and go back. We don't have to go.”

I sighed. I knew that. I also knew we wouldn't. I had already committed to the insanity and there wasn't any turning back. My curiosity always won out. Maybe Jake was right. Maybe I really would have to look into getting my private investigator's license. Or my spy card.

“No,” I told him. “We're going.”

“Awesome,” Johnny said, barely able to contain his excitement and squirming . He squirmed in his seat. “Hey, did Brenda clear next Friday night with you?”

“Yeah, I think so,” I said. “We have your kids that night, correct right ?”

He nodded. “Yeah, if you can.”

“Of course,” I said. “We have to start paying you back for this week.”

“Aw, it's been fine,” he said , shrugging . “They all get along and they've had fun. We might be a little late dropping them off next week Friday , though. I've got a contractor guy coming by and he can't get there until the afternoon. Not sure how long he'll be.”

“Are you having some work done to the house?”

He shook his head. “No , we're t anything major. We're just having some holes patched. Derek likes to punch the walls in his bedroom.”

I looked out the window so he couldn't see me laughing. “Gotcha.”

“I need to get him into boxing classes or something,” he said. “Maybe some mixed martial arts. Something to burn off all that energy.”

“Probably be cheaper than wall repair.”

He laughed. “For sure.”

He navigated the traffic on Main and cut over to the other side of town.

“Where exactly are we going?” I asked, realizing I hadn't asked before we'd left.

“Some computer place,” he said. “Just up the road here, above the highway.”

I nodded , distracted ly. , now worried that Worry was beginning to set in as I realized we I should've called Jake and told him where we were going. What if it went bad and no one knew where we were? I hadn't even told Will where we were headed. I had visions of them all trying to piece together our whereabouts based on Phil Johnny 's phone call cell phone log and my interactions with the Prism teachers.

They'd never find us if it went bad.

Maybe I wasn't really cut out for the spy/investigator business.

“This is it,” Johnny said.

I snapped out of my ruminations and looked up.

And did a double-take.

“This is it?” I asked.

“Yeah. Why?”

“This is Data Dork,” I said, staring at the sign.

“Yeah, I know,” he said. “This is where he said to meet him.”

“At Data Dork?”

“Yeah,” Johnny said, looking at me like I'd lost my mind. “Is that not okay?”

“I...I just wasn't expecting to be...here,” I said. “Are we meeting with Harold?”

“No,” he said, shaking his head. “ Who's Harold?” We're just meeting in the strip mall . He didn't say anything about the computer store. Or Harold.”

The guy who owns Data Dork. His wife is the president of the PTA at Prism. I came over here to talk to him the other night.” Are you sure it wasn't Harold you talked to?” I quickly told him about my visit to the store.

Johnny adjusted his glasses. “ Oh, wow. I didn't know any of that. Obviously. This guy's name is Nate. Or at least that's what he told me.” He pulled the car into the lot and parked at the end of the strip mall. “He said he'd meet us down here at the end of all the stores.”

My head was spinning. Did this mean that the Hollenstorks did have something to do with the computer theft? Who was this Nate guy? Was Nate actually Harold?

“I don't know why he said here,” Johnny said. “This was just the place he gave me and I knew it was close, so...” His voice trailed off.

I was still trying to sort it out in my head when a guy in his late twenties in an oversized Vikings sweatshirt popped out from around the corner of the building s . He stood there for a moment, rubbing the scraggly goatee on his chin, squinting at us. Johnny rolled down his window and waved. The guy stood there a second, then headed our way, checking over his shoulder as he walked.

He peered down into Johnny's window when he reached the car. “You Johnny?” he asked,leaning close. The breeze blew his long black through the open car window.

“Yeah,” he said. “And this is my friend Daisy.”

He glanced quickly at me and smiled. His teeth were coffee-stained crooked and his nose was crooked just off-center , like it had been broken once or twice. “Hey. I'm Nate.” He moved his gaze back to Johnny. “So.”

Uh, so.”

“We still looking to make a little deal here?” Nate asked , raising his bushy eyebrows. .

Johnny's cheeks colored. “Uh...”

“I'm actually the one,” I blurted out. “The one that's looking to buy. The computers.”

Nate nodded a couple of times , assessing me . “Cool, cool. Alright. So, you're interested?”

“Yeah,” I said, trying to think fast, then pointed at the Data Dork sign. “Are the computers in there?”

Nate turned around like he didn't know what I was pointing at. to look. When he turned back around, he had kind of an amused look on his face.

“In there?” he said, then shook his head. “No. No way.”

“It's a computer store,” I said.

“Yeah, but it's, like, totally legit,” he said, frowning. “Dude that runs it, he'd never be in on any action like this. Speaking of that action – ”

“So he has nothing to do it with it?” I interrupted him. “The guy who runs the store?”

“Nah.”

“Why are we meeting here , then?”

He jerked his thumb over his shoulder. “I work there part-time. I just finished my shift a little bit ago. Trust me . T , t hat guy has no clue about this kind of stuff.”

Okay. I felt a little better than Harold wasn't involved. For some reason, I didn't want him or Harriet to be the culprits. I liked him and his old little store and I really hoped he wasn't getting into something like stealing to keep his store doors open.

“You said the computers aren't here?” Johnny asked.

Nate shook his head. “ Nah. They're in a safe place, you know? Can't just be lugging them around with me, meeting strangers in parking lots.” He chuckled. “That wouldn't be very good business.”

“So how , uh, do we know what we're buying?” I asked.

He reached into the front pocket of his Vikings sweatshirt and handed Johnny a couple of photos. Johnny scanned them, nodding, then passed them to me.

I looked at the pictures. They were computers. I didn't see anything that identified them as the ones stolen from Prism, but they looked like computers that could've been in a computer lab.

“Cheap systems,” Johnny said to Nate. “Like they were purchased in bulk, yeah?”

Nate nodded.

“Like for a church or a school or a library, yeah?” Johnny asked.

Nate hesitated, then nodded again. “Pretty much, dude.” He ran down the specs on the computers, rattling off a bunch of numbers about memory and speed and software. “Standard stuff.”

Johnny nodded, then glanced at me. He adjusted his glasses. “I think it sounds like what you're looking for.”

I wasn't certain because Johnny and I hadn't exactly run any secret spy missions in the past, but I was pretty sure he was telling me that he thought the pictures were of the Prism computers.

“We'd need to see them,” I said. “Before I buy any of them.”

Nate rubbed at his chin and nodded like he'd expected that. “ Cool, cool. Alright. Well, h H ow many you think you want? Just one? A couple? What are your needs?”

“How many do you have?”

He raised the bushy an eyebrow. “How many like the ones in the pictures?”

“Yes.”

He pursed his lips. “About thirty.”

“Okay,” I said. “I want them all.”

“All of them?” he asked. “For real?”

“For real,” I said , resisting the tempation to add another word or two in a sad attempt to sound hip and cool. .

“Whoa,” he said, scratching his head. “Wasn't expecting that. But that's cool. We can do that, for sure.”

“But here's the deal,” I said , quickly. “I want to see them all. Tonight.”

“Tonight? Serious?”

“Serious,” I said. “I want to see the merchandise before I purchase.”

Nate pursed his lips for a moment again, then said , “Yo, give me a minute.” He walked away from the car, pulled a phone from his pocket and made a call.

“You think I was too aggressive?” I whispered to Johnny.

“No, no,” he answered. “That was smooth. Those are definitely the computers you're looking for.”

“Yeah?”

He nodded quickly. “Yeah, the specs he gave are exactly what you'd find in bulk-bought systems for a school. I guess there's a chance it might not be from the school, but I'd be pretty surprised because I didn't hear about any other heists.”

“Heists?”

“I like that word,” he said, watching Nate through the windshield. “It's a good spy word.”

I wasn't sure what a good spy word was. I was too preoccupied with watching Nate on the phone. And with figuring out how I was going to tell Jake that our night might be a little busier than we'd originally planned.

“I wonder if I should grow a beard,” Johnny said, looking in the rearview mirror.

“Why?”

“To disguise my appearance,” he said, running a hand over his bare chin. “For when I have to go incognito.”

“Uhh...”

“Brenda hates beards, though,” he said. “She probably won't let me. I'll need to think of something else.”

Um, yeah, p P robably.”

“Here he comes,” Johnny whispered.

Nate tucked the phone back into his pocket and walked back to Johnny's open window. He peered inside d . “Hey, yo, I gotta ask. You guys aren't cops or anything, right?”

“Come on, bro,” Johnny said. “Do we look like cops?”

Nate shrugged.

“We aren't the police,” I said, worried that we weren't fooling him. “I promise.”

“Yeah,” Johnny said, nodding. “We aren't. I'm just an I.T. guy trying to help out my friend here.”

“Cool, cool,” Nate said. “My brother, though. He said I had to ask.”

“Your brother?” I asked.

“Yeah, yeah,” he answered. “He's the one that's got the stuff you need.”

“Oh. Alright. So can we see it tonight?”

“Yeah,” Nate said. “Long as you don't mind driving.”

“Driving?”

“It's kind of a ways out,” he said. “But that's the best I can do.”

Johnny looked at me. “It's no problem.”

I could think of about thirty problems, but we'd come this far. I didn't want to lose out now.

“Okay,” I said. “Where do we need to go?”

Nate smiled. “You like gambling?”


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