فصل چهل و یکم

chapter-41

Walking down the steps from the reading room, Kyle realized things had gone from bad to worse to absolutely horrible.

The mayor had shut down the library.

The Krinkle brothers had smeared Mr. Lemoncello’s good name and stolen his cool new holographic game idea.

The first law enforcement officers they had told about Irma Hirschman being a fraud had basically laughed in their faces because they were just kids.

And now Mr. Lemoncello was saying it was all up to Kyle and the others to find and reveal the truth.

No pressure or anything.

“What’d he say?” asked Miguel, who was waiting in Mr. Lemoncello’s enormous dining room with the rest of the data dashers, including Katherine Kelly.

“Game over, thank you for playing,” said Akimi. “We’ve burned through our extra lives and are all out of quarters.” “Huh?” said Jamal. “Could you repeat that in English?” “We’re dead in the water,” said Akimi.

“No, we’re not,” said Kyle. “We know the truth.”

“And,” said Miguel, “we also know nobody will listen to us. We’re kids.” “Not to mention Mr. Lemoncello’s biggest fans,” added Katherine.

“Indeed,” said Abia. “We hardly come across as un-biased researchers.” “It doesn’t matter,” said Kyle. “We just have to make the right moves. All games put you in a puzzle or a predicament. Then it’s up to the players to figure out how to wiggle free.” “Very well,” said Abia, “what do you suggest, Kyle Keeley?” Kyle saw the Nonfictionator sitting on a table.

“I’ve got it!” he said. “Those detectives didn’t believe us when we tried to tell them about Irma Hirschman being an actress. So we use this thing to dial up Abraham Lincoln again. Then, Honest Abe holds a press conference in a hotel ballroom, just like Irma Hirschman did, and tells everybody about the fake game box and the phony picture on it coming from a 1969 theatrical production in Sheboygan, Wisconsin. Then he tells them about Jessica stealing the blueprints. And since it’s Honest Abe, everybody has to believe he’s telling the truth!” Eleven pairs of eyeballs were staring at Kyle.

“Seriously?” said Angus. “That’s your plan?”

“It would look like a car commercial on Presidents’ Day weekend,” whined Andrew.

Abia was shaking her head. “I thought you were through looking for quick and easy solutions, Kyle Keeley. I am seriously disappointed to learn that this is not the case.” Kyle heard an annoying disco tune.

“That’s my mother’s ringtone!” said Andrew.

He pulled out his phone.

“Yes, Mother? No, we’re at Mr. Lemoncello’s. Seriously? Right now? Wow. Thank you, Mother.” He ended the call. “Quick. Use that stupid remote thingy to turn on the stupid TV.” “Why?” asked Kyle, fumbling with the portable Nonfictionator.

“Because,” said Andrew excitedly, “the Grand Gala is still on—minus Mr. Lemoncello, of course!” Kyle bopped a red button and scrolled down the menu to “Dining Room TV.” The white wall blinked and turned into a giant screen.

“This is Victoria Bartlett, Action News Eleven. We’re here at the building formerly known as the Lemoncello Library, where world-famous game makers the Krinkle brothers have arrived to make an announcement about the Grand Gala, originally scheduled for tomorrow night. It was canceled, of course, due to the controversy swirling around Mr. Lemoncello and his reported theft of intellectual property. However, we’re hearing that the canceled event may be back on. Wait. Here come the Krinkles. They are exiting their limousine and climbing up the front steps to the library.” “What are those guys doing here?” said Akimi.

“Is that Mrs. Chiltington?” said Miguel.

“Yes,” said Andrew. “And Charles, too.”

“And Mayor O’Brady,” added Diane.

Kyle couldn’t believe what he was seeing. Not the fact that the Chiltingtons had joined forces with the evil Krinkles and Mayor O’Brady. That was sort of to be expected. Birds of a feather always flocked together. Even vultures.

No, what Kyle couldn’t believe was the guy standing behind the cluster of smiling dignitaries on the front steps of the library. The one very close to the keypad that could open the front bank vault door.

Mr. Raymo. Mr. Lemoncello’s brand-new chief imagineer!

“The Krinkles are in place now,” said the TV reporter. “Let’s listen to what they have to say.” “Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls,” said David Krinkle while his brother, Frederick, smiled smugly. “My brother and I have generously volunteered to take over as entertainment directors here at your public library. As master game makers, we know how to make learning fun!” “And,” said the mayor, stepping forward, “the city of Alexandriaville has graciously accepted their offer to serve in this capacity—free of charge!” There was a smattering of applause. Mostly from Mrs. Chiltington’s League of Concerned Library Lovers.

“We, the concerned citizens of Alexandriaville, are very, very pleased with this recent development,” cooed Mrs. Chiltington operatically. “Very.” “Indubitably,” added her son.

“With the help of Mr. Raymo,” said David Krinkle, “who, by the way, is the real, uncelebrated genius behind all the marvels and magic inside this building, we will reopen tomorrow evening with a Grand Gala, when several new exhibits shall be revealed. We hope everybody in town will join us back here tomorrow at seven p.m. for a Krinkle Brothers extravaganza!” That’s when Frederick Krinkle stepped forward and smirked into the camera.

“My brother misspoke,” he said. “Everyone in town is invited except, of course, for your local fraud, thief, and plagiarist, Luigi L. Lemoncello!”