The Clue of the Linoleum Lederhosen (8 page)

At that point Jasper turned off his light. They were plunged into darkness.

The Manley Boys ran for the exit; Jasper,
half tied, wildly hopped. They could hear the kidnapper right near them.

Jank, tripping over the rug, fell. Jasper stopped hopping to help him up. Jank was on his knees. The man barreled toward them. Jank grabbed Jasper's head and shoved. Jasper went ricocheting into their masked opponent.

“Sorry!” said Jank and Fud, scrambling up the steps. “Don't worry—we'll be back!

“Those brave Manley Boys have solved it again! They know,” said the fleeing boy detectives, “exactly where the kidnapper's cave is …”

Jasper tried to pull away, but there was a tight grip of gloved fingers on his arm. He kicked and thrashed.

To no avail.

“Stop struggling, Dash,” said the kidnapper. “You're not going anywhere.”

And, indeed, he was not.

His ankles were tied.

Jasper Dash was trapped.

Meanwhile, Katie had an encounter with the Cutesy Dell Twins. She was sunning herself by the pool, reading
Snazzy,
when the two of them walked out in their bathing suits and asked her about one of the articles on foot binding.

“It's a really good issue,” said Katie. She didn't want to say too much. She was afraid that at any moment the Cutesy niceness could be retracted.

“Do you think this swimsuit makes me look Venezuelan?” asked one of the Twins, turning sideways. “I think that might be one of its powers.”

“You look totally Venezuelan,” said the other Twin. “Doesn't she?”

“Are these chairs taken?” asked the first Twin. Katie said no, and the girls sat on either side of her.

Children played in the water. They floated on inflatable wildlife, and the water around them reflected the pines.

The three girls sat in a line, their eyes blanked out by silver sunglasses.

“What a great resort,” said one of the Twins.

“We're really happy we came,” said the other one.

“Did you get the coupon for the free dinner?” asked the first one.

“Yeah,” said Katie. “Well, Jasper did.”

The Cutesy Dell Twins looked at each other over her and mouthed,
“Jasper.”

One of them said, “We think Jasper is SO cute.”

The other said, “But we hope the dinner isn't a buffet.”

“We hate buffets,” explained the first one.

“The red light over the roast beef is creepy,” said her sister.

“And the beans are super creepy.”

“And potatoes au gratin make me feel like somebody wants something out of me, and they just won't ask.”

Katie didn't completely understand. She ventured, “Potatoes shouldn't make anyone feel that way.”

“You're right! I hate them for that!”

“So no buffet,” a Twin said.

“You don't have to worry about it,” Katie pointed out. “The dinner coupons were fake, anyway.”

“Fake, like not from the hotel?”

“Yeah,” said Katie. “Someone sent out fake coupons.”

“Weird,” one of the Twins said, rolling her eyes.

“That is
so
weird,” said the other one.

“Who would do that?” asked the first.

Katie shrugged her shoulders. “I don't know.”

“I thought you were the big mystery solver,” said one of the Twins. “Like with ghosts and electrical beings.”

“I've given it up,” said Katie. “I'm tired of Horror Hollow. I'm totally tired of being chased and being hunted and picking up sticks to fight things off.”

“It's kind of cool, though,” said one of the Twins. “It makes you kind of exciting.”

Katie liked the idea of being exciting.

“Well, anyway,” she said, “I'm giving it up because I'm on vacation.”

“Yay for vacation!” said one of the Twins.

Katie smiled. “Hey,” she said, “should we get all dressed up for dinner?”

“Sure,” said one of the Twins. “We could do that.”

And they all were glad that she had said “We.”

An hour later the three of them floated in the water on inflatable cushions. They floated in a triangle, looking up at the clouds. The pool beneath them was as blue as the sky above. They were discussing products.

“Gert is better than Clow.”

“No way” said one of the Twins. “Clow is better than Gert. It's almost brave.”

“Gert gets all brittle,” said Katie. “I had a box once.”

“Clow gets under my nails,” said one of the Twins, “and people think I'm a caveman from the jungle era.”

“Gert is a sweet buy.”

“Clow, it's supposed to be made from really good things.”

“My sister,” said one of the Twins, “knows quality when she sees it.”

“I just appreciate, you know, the finer things in life.”

“Like she does woodworking. All the time.”

“It kind of drives you crazy, doesn't it?”

“Only the hammering, because it sounds like you're inside my abdomen.”

“I make tables and bureaus and things.”

“They're really cool, even if they're kind of loud.”

“I get a migraine headache for days if my sanding comes out sloppy. I have to stay in the dark and drink ginger ale and pretend I'm mahogany.”

“I take her ice-cream floats like our grandma used to make.”

Katie liked that they had hobbies. It made her feel kind of relieved. She had always thought they just worried about boys and their skin. Instead, here they were telling her about this weird little world of interests that no one even
knew about. She was starting to like the Cutesy Dell Twins more and more.

And more and more, as they talked and told secrets, the overheard theft, the search parties, and the kidnapping seemed to Katie to be twelve or fifteen miles away.

Meanwhile, Jasper Dash, Boy Technonaut, was trussed to a chair and gagged with duct tape. He couldn't even have screamed for help if he had wanted, the tape was so tight on his mouth.

He hadn't learned much about his assailant since he had been trussed. They had not talked a lot. As the mysterious kidnapper tied Jasper up, the man had murmured, “Let me just tie the loose end to the … that thing … on the back of the chair.”

Jasper made muffled noises like he was trying to speak. The kidnapper yanked off the duct tape partway.

Jasper gasped. “I believe, sir, it is called a splat.”

“Yeah. Thanks,” said the kidnapper, slapping the tape back over the boy's mouth. “One more peep out of you and that's not going to be the only
splat
around here.”

When he was done tying Jasper to the chair, the kidnapper went over to the desk and turned on the radio to the easy listening station. Out came an orchestral version of “Plaid Ballad for Stacey.”

The man picked up a flashlight, turned it on, and crawled through the opening into the next cavern.

Jasper heard the man's voice echoing over the music—the kidnapper was yelling, “Would you be quiet?
BE QUIET!
I'll take off your tape, now BE QUIET.”

And then Jasper heard the Quints start calling for help. They piped, “Help! Help!” while over them, the man growled, “Shut up! I told you to shut up! And for pete's sake, don't sing!”

Jasper struggled in his chair—every muscle in his civic-minded body wishing to leap up, to
spring down the corridor, to biff the cad, to knock him down, to throw off the Quints' ropes and run with them to freedom.

But freedom, alas, was far away. As Jasper listened in consternation to the screams of distress, he felt a creeping little feeling. It was inside his nose. His hay fever. It was getting worse.

He sneezed. He couldn't open his mouth, of course, so the sneeze was trapped.

His nose was dripping.

He was momentarily distracted from the Quints—for he had realized something horrifying: Due to his allergy to mountain laurel, his nose was going to slowly fill up over the next hour or so. And when it did fill up, if the tape had not been ripped from his mouth, he would suffocate. And die.

One by one, the Quints' voices fell silent.

The man must be putting the tape back over their mouths, too.

Jasper decided he would explain the situation regarding his unfortunate allergic condition
to the kidnapper, and they would agree manfully that if the kidnapper removed the duct tape, Jasper would be honor-bound not to speak or yell for help until he had been tagged by someone from his own team.

The kidnapper came striding out of the Quints' prison.

Jasper made mooing noises to attract his attention. He hopped the chair up and down.

The man ignored him. He lit a lamp. In its light Jasper saw the man reach into his black bag and pull out a necklace of some kind. The man looked around for some place to put it and finally hung it on the antenna of the radio.

Jasper made another attempt to explain his scheme for a reasonable agreement. Of course, all that came out were moans and a little bit more hopping.

“I just told you to shut up,” growled the man.

Technically, Jasper wished to point out, the kidnapper had just told the Quints to shut up,
not him; but that correction, like his idea for the gentleman's agreement vis-à-vis his hay fever, came out sounding like Jasper was barfing into a sauceboat.

The kidnapper prepared to leave the cave.

Jasper was desperate to catch his attention. He bellowed silently. His nose dribbled.

The kidnapper paused at the top of the crude stone stairs. Pensively, he looked down at his black pants. “Clothes always look better on mannequins,” he said. Then he turned and walked away.

Jasper's gulps and gargles went unnoticed.

The kidnapper was gone.

For a while Jasper sat there, his head hung low.

He was, however, a boy of pluck and spirit, always ready to take on any challenge that perfidy might box and hand-deliver.

He reminded himself of that.
^*

He looked up.

Aha.
His ankles had been tied only very loosely by Fud, who had been unable to recall how to tie a bow. Jasper could move them a little bit.

He believed he could hop to the mouth of the cave. And he thought if he really were very careful, he could then hop the chair he was tied to up the rocky steps that led out of the cave. And then—home free. From there it would just be a two- or three-day scrape down the paths, moving a few centimeters at a time, until he reached the lodge and could be unfastened.

But what about the Quints?

Quickly, he hopped his chair over to the fissure in the rock that led to their prison. The radio played soft favorites: “Bridge Over Troubled Water” and “Babe, You're a Kernel (of Wow).”

He did not think he would fit into the hole in the wall with the chair attached to him. He slammed against it. No luck.

He would have to come back for the Quints later.

Gradually, agonizingly, he scratched his way back across the floor toward the exit.