The Further Adventures of Jack Lime Read Online Free PDF Page A

said.
    â€œWhat’s going on?” Betty cried, running to Lance. “Jack says you’re involved with a gang?”
    â€œHe’s got it all wrong, Betty,” Lance said, pulling her away.
    â€œDon’t listen to him, Betty!” I said. “He’s mixed up in this dirty mess tighter than a guinea pig at a boa constrictor party!”
    â€œMind your own business, Lime,” Lance growled.
    I tried to go after her, but Bucky must’ve let Ronny go because the little guy was suddenly pummeling me with his tiny fists. It was like having a Chihuahua bite at your heels, and by the time I pushed him away, Betty was gone.
    â€œYou should get a leash for your puppy,” I said to Bucky. “Or he might get into some real trouble one of these days.”
    â€œYou’re the only one who’s going to get into trouble around here, Lime,” Ronny yapped. “You and your antique bike.”
    â€œGee, I’d love to stick around and chat about bicycles, Ronny. I know it’s one of your favorite topics, but I have to talk to a girl about her no-good dirty boyfriend.”
    â€œYou’re not going to talk to anyone,” Bucky said, grabbing my wrist.
    â€œWhat’s it going to be this time, Bucky? Are you going to toss me in the river again?”
    â€œNah, I think we’ve done enough damage for one night. Don’t you, Ronny?” he said with a sneer.
    â€œSure,” Ronny said, chuckling, “we’ve done plenty of damage.”
    â€œPlus,” Bucky added, handing me over to Heavy and Malone, “we’ve still got dodgeball to play. Have a good walk home, Limey.”
    Bucky and his lemmings headed back to the tennis courts while Heavy and Malone carried me back to the far side of the field and dumped me in the grass.
    â€œYou think I ought to bust his nose again, Heavy?” Malone asked, cracking his knuckles.
    â€œNah, he’s too ugly already.”
    â€œLooks like it’s your lucky day, Lime,” Malone said, standing over me. “And if you know what’s good for you, don’t come crawling back.”
    â€œI know what’s good for me, all right,” I called, as they started back across the field. “And it has nothing to do with watching two washed-up scumbags pretending to play dodgeball!”
    They ignored me and I staggered into the trees. I found my bike and suddenly understood what Bucky and Ronny had been chuckling about. Damage had been done, serious damage. My bike looked like it’d been attacked by a man-eating tiger; the seat was ripped, the tires were slashed, the spokes were bent and broken, the handlebar was turned around and the chain was off. It was a dirty move. It was rotten, despicable, underhanded and crooked. It was everything that was wrong with this little town, and I was tired of it. I was tired of bullies and goons pushing kids around. I was tired of golden boys like Lance Munroe pretending to be squeaky clean. Most of all I was tired of getting my nose busted and my bicycle broken, all in the name of solving a case. Well, this wasn’t just about solving a case anymore. This was personal, and it was time for some payback.
    Saturday, October 5, 12:12 p.m.
Main Street, The Diner
    I tossed and turned all night, trying to think up a few different ways to get Bucky to pay for my broken bicycle, but there were no easy answers when it came to Bucky King. Sure, I could put the screws to Ronny Kutcher and get him to cough up the cash, but I didn’t feel much like pushing around a little kid like him, even if he was working with the Riverside Boys. Nothing clever was coming to mind, so by noon on Saturday I decided to head to The Diner and drown my sorrows in a few dozen root beer floats.
    I threw back my first one, grabbed a napkin and jotted down everything I knew about the case so far.
    1.Lance was getting text messages from someone named Red at 555-3333.
    2.Thanks to his