The Accidental Keyhand Read Online Free PDF Page B

furiously to where Marcus stood, pressed against a bookcase, knowing he particularly enjoyed programming her phone to ring in unexpected ways. Marcus only pointed delicately to a spot over Mr. Scuggans’s head. Moe was crossing the top of the bulletin board’s thick frame.
    Mr. Scuggans drummed his flabby fingers on the countertop, his eyes boring into Dorrie’s. “I don’t suppose you have something for me?”
    Moe provided an answer of sorts by flinging himself down onto the circulation desk in an explosion of stubby pencils and scraps of notepaper, and then immediately bouncing out of sight again.
    Mr. Scuggans jumped a foot in the air, his eyes bulging. “Was that some sort of…of…RAT?” he hissed in a terrible voice.
    â€œNot. Exactly,” said Dorrie.
    Marcus dived for the mongoose and hit the magazine rack hard. It overturned, sending magazines slipping and sliding all over the floor.
    Mr. Scuggans snatched up his stapler and pointed at the door. “Remove it from the library’s premises! At once!”
    â€œThere!” hollered Dorrie, pointing with Tiffany’s sword, as the non-exactly-a-rat materialized on the back of a chair.
    â€œIs that a weapon?” cried Mr. Scuggans, slamming the stapler back down on the counter.
    As if Mr. Scuggans’s stapler-banging had loosened something essential in the old building’s electrical system, the lights overhead began to dim and glare in rapid succession. Dorrie and Marcus lunged for Moe at the same time, nearly knocking heads, and missed him as he leaped to a new perch. Just then, Amanda rushed into the reading room through the staff-room door, her chest heaving, her face alight.
    â€œOut! All of you!” shouted Mr. Scuggans.
    With a high-pitched howl, Moe streaked past Amanda and disappeared into the staff room.
    â€œWe’ll catch him! Don’t worry,” Dorrie shouted. She and Marcus surged through the staff-room door after the mongoose, almost knocking Amanda over.
    As Dorrie slammed the door shut behind them, she had just time enough to see dismay replace Amanda’s joyful expression.
    â€œLock it!” Marcus panted. “Before Darth Scuggans brings a death ray in here or something.”
    Dorrie turned a heavy dead bolt. The room held a sofa, a few desks, a coatrack, and a tiny refrigerator. In one corner, a broom closet stood ajar, its door hung with mops and bags of rags. A crash came from inside the closet, and a plastic bucket came rolling out.
    â€œHe’s in there!” Dorrie said with relief.
    Marcus and Dorrie converged on the closet. Inside, cans of paint and Lysol, and buckets of rags and sponges crowded the closet’s shelves.
    Marcus pulled the door shut behind them. “Hah! Cornered!”
    â€œOw!” Dorrie cried as Marcus stepped hard on her foot. “I can’t see a thing.”
    Something metallic tumbled off a shelf and crashed to the floor.
    â€œ3PO!” shouted Marcus. “Shut down all the trash compactors on the detention level!”
    â€œNot now,” cried Dorrie. Feeling blindly for Moe, and feeling more than a little nervous that she’d find him when his teeth sank into her hand, Dorrie slowly realized that she could now make out the dim shape of a mop head against the back wall. Light seemed to be shining through a crack in the back corner of the closet. A pounding began on the staff-room door.
    Dorrie slapped at Marcus. “Look!”
    Marcus slapped back at Dorrie. “Look?”
    Dorrie faced him toward the sliver of light. Warm air seemed to be flowing out of the crack. When Dorrie put her hand on the back of the closet to steady herself, the wall gave way, swinging slowly to one side on silent hinges like a door.
    â€œWhoa,” said Marcus.
    They were staring into a small windowless room with five walls. Bookshelves rose up to the ceiling on four of them. On the fifth, velvet curtains tied back with thick