Chapter FIVE
I walked back to the Lost Arms feeling much lighter than I had all day. The library had been restorative, a word an associate of mine used to describe activities that clear the brain and make the heart happy. A root beer float is restorative, as is managing to open a locked door. Hopefully, I thought, this associate of mine would soon receive my request at the Fourier Branch of the library and save herself some trouble.
It was trouble that was waiting for me at the Lost Arms, and one could spot it half a block away, as there was a car parked out front with a red light on top. It looked like a police car, but when I got closer, I saw it was a run-down station wagon with a flashlight taped to its roof. Nevertheless, there were two adults in uniform standing at the steps of the Lost Arms, where Theodora was sitting. She had to look up to speak to them, and her eyes looked serious and worried beneath her hair. As part of my education, I’d learned that one should never have a serious conversation in a position in which one has to look up at the other person. I’d thought this was a ridiculous thing to teach children, who tend to be shorter than anyone else, and said so. As punishment for speaking out in class, I had to sit in the corner. The teacher looked even taller from there.
“Snicket,” Theodora said as I reached our hotel. “These are the Officers Mitchum.”
The two officers turned to look at me, and I found myself facing a man and a woman who looked so much alike they could only be twins or two people who had been married for a very long time. They both had pear-shaped bodies, with short, thick legs and grumpy-looking arms, and it looked like they had both tried on heads that were too small for them and were about to ask the head clerk for a larger size.
“My wife and I have questions for you,” said the first Officer Mitchum, rather than “Hello” or “Nice to meet you” or “I thought you might be hungry, so I took the liberty of bringing you some lamb chops.”
“Harvey,” the other officer said sharply. “You’re not supposed to call me your wife when we’re on official business.”
The first officer sighed. “Mimi, you’re my wife whether we’re on duty or not.”
“Don’t remind me,” his wife replied. “I’m having a bad enough day as it is. It was your turn to empty the dishwasher, Harvey, but as usual you forgot, and I had to do it myself.”
“Mimi, stop nagging me.”
“I’m not nagging you.”
“Yes you are.”
“Harvey, gently pointing something out is not nagging.”
“That was gentle? I’ve seen a pack of wolves act as gentle as that.”
“When have you ever seen a pack of wolves?”
“Well, not actual wolves, but I’ve visited your sister’s house, and her kids—”
I can’t imagine there is anyone reading this who needs to be told that when two married adults start to argue, it can last for hours, if not days, and the only way to stop it is to interrupt them. “You said you had some questions for me?” I asked.
“We’ll ask the questions around here,” Mimi Mitchum said. “We’re the law in Stain’d-by-the-Sea. We’re the ones who catch criminals and put them on the train back to the city to be locked up. From the outskirts of town in the hinterlands to the boundary of the Clusterous Forest, we know every single thing that happens in this town. So when strangers arrive, we feel it is our duty to welcome them and ask them what exactly it is that they’re doing here.”
“We love ink,” Theodora tried.
“You told Mr. Mallahan you loved lighthouses.”
“We love everything,” Theodora said with a desperate smile.
“What my chaperone means,” I said, “is that although we’re here on business, we hope to take in some of the fantastic sights of this wonderful community. I was just admiring your police station, for instance.”
“Harvey hung that sign himself,” Mimi Mitchum said proudly.
“It’s true,” the male Officer Mitchum said, “but what we’re here to say is that one sight we hope you will not enjoy is the inside of our only jail cell. We couldn’t help but notice that soon after the arrival of two strangers, this town experienced a crime. It is a small crime, to be sure, but it is a crime nonetheless.”
“What happened?” I asked.
“A streetlight was vandalized,” Harvey Mitchum said. “Right around the corner from the library, someone slung a small rock and shattered the bulb. It’s still too early to make assumptions, but it wouldn’t be surprising if this crime could be traced to the two of you. Where have you been for the last hour, Snicket?”
“In the library,” I answered.
“Can anyone verify this?”
“Dashiell Qwerty, the librarian.”
“That ruffian,” Mimi Mitchum scoffed. “I don’t trust anyone who doesn’t spend time on his appearance.”
“I’d say he spent lots of time,” I said. “That haircut looked like it took hours. He and I were interrupted by a young boy with a slingshot. Qwerty said his name was Stew.”
The Officers Mitchum looked sternly at me, their mouths set in identical snarls. “Our son, Stewart,” the female Mitchum said, “is a genius and a gentleman. He is certainly not a criminal. Why, he begged to come with us just in order to welcome you.”
She gestured to the station wagon, and I saw for the first time Stew’s thick, sneering head peering out the open window. When the eyes of the adults were upon him, he found an enormous smile someplace and plastered that on his face instead. “Nice to meet you, Lemony,” he said to me in a falsely cheerful voice. “I love meeting nice people my own age! I do hope we become the bestest of friends!”
“You see?” Harvey Mitchum said to me as Stew stuck his tongue out at me without anyone seeing. “A charming boy.”
“A darling boy,” Mimi Mitchum said. “Lately he’s been interested in local bird life.”
“I bet he grows up to be a brilliant scientist,” her husband said.
“Or a doctor,” said his wife.
“A brilliant doctor.”
“Of course, Harvey. You know I meant a brilliant doctor. You don’t have to embarrass me like that.”
“I wasn’t trying to embarrass you.”
“Well, then you were wasting time.”
“I wasn’t wasting time! It only took a second!”
“Then what were you trying to do? Why would you even say such a thing if you weren’t trying to embarrass your wife?”
“You said I shouldn’t call you my wife when we’re on duty!”
“And you said I was still your wife whether we were on duty or not.”
“Excuse me,” I said, “but if you don’t have any more questions, I’d like to go to my room.”
The Officers Mitchum looked at me in irritation for interrupting their argument. “We’ll be keeping an eye on you two,” Mimi Mitchum said, pointing a surprisingly long finger, and after a brief dispute over which Mitchum would drive, the station wagon rattled away down the street, and Theodora stood up to stare down at me.
“We’re not in town one day,” she said, “and already you’re in trouble with the law. I’m disappointed in you, Snicket.”
“I didn’t vandalize a streetlight,” I said.
“That’s not important,” she said with a shake of her hair. “We need to move tonight.”
“Let’s look for a place with two separate rooms.”
“No, I mean tonight we must be interlopers,” she said, “a word which here means stealing the Bombinating Beast and returning it to its rightful owners.”
“I think the statue is with its rightful owners,” I said, not adding that I had known what “interlopers” meant since I was ten years old and read a short story by a British man with a funny false name. “I did some research at the library, and local legends say that the Bombinating Beast has been associated with the Mallahan family for generations. And when Moxie Mallahan showed it to me, it looked very dusty, as if it hadn’t been moved in years.”
“Legends are just made-up stories,” Theodora said scornfully, “and anyone can pour dust on something to make it look old. Some years ago I had a case where two brothers were arguing over a seashell collection. The younger brother poured dust on the shells to try to prove they were his, but I saw through his ridiculous ruse. In any case, it’s all settled. I called the Sallis mansion this afternoon and made arrangements with the butler. We will take the statue from the lighthouse and climb out the window to reach the mansion by way of the hawser. The butler agreed to leave the window to the library open and signal us with a candle that all is clear. We will deliver the statue to him, and the case will be closed.”
It struck me that it was probably not dust but sand on the shells, so that it was likely that the younger brother was the true owner of the seashell collection. It also struck me that it was not a good time to say this. My chaperone leaned in close to me. “What you are to do,” she said, “is break into the lighthouse sometime this evening and wait inside. At midnight exactly you will open the door for me and lead me to the item in question. This must go off without a hitch, Snicket. People are watching us.”
“You mean the Officers Mitchum?”
Theodora shook her head. “I mean someone from our organization. Wherever a chaperone goes, there is someone keeping an eye on things. You don’t know this, Snicket, but out of fifty-two chaperones, I am ranked only tenth. If I solve this case quickly, my ranking will improve. Now off you go. I’ll see you at the lighthouse at midnight.”
“What about dinner?” I asked.
“I already had dinner, thank you.”
“What about my dinner?”
She frowned at me and walked up the stairs. “That’s the wrong question, Snicket. There are more important things than dinner. Focus on the case.”
I watched her go into the Lost Arms. It is true there are more important things than dinner, but it is difficult to keep those things in mind when you haven’t had dinner. I allowed enough time for Theodora to reach her room, and then I walked into the Lost Arms myself, wondering who in this small, fading town could possibly be watching us. Prosper Lost was standing under the statue of the armless woman, an eager smile on his face. I remembered the word now that had been on the tip of my tongue. It was “obsequious,” and it refers to people who behave like one’s servants even when they aren’t. It might sound like that would be pleasant, but it is not.
“Lovely evening, Mr. Snicket,” he said to me.
“More or less,” I agreed, looking across the lobby. Theodora had said she’d called the mansion, which meant the phone had not been in use. I hoped this was the case again, but a woman with a long fur stole around her neck was talking into it. “Is there another telephone anywhere nearby?” I asked.
Prosper Lost gave a small shrug. “Regrettably, no.”
“Might you be able to give me a ride someplace?”
“Unregrettably, yes,” Prosper said, “for a small fee, of course.”
There may be a town in which lint in my pocket would count as a small fee, but I knew that Stain’d-by-the-Sea was not that town. I gave Prosper the sort of “Thank you” that does not mean “You have been very helpful” but means “Please go away,” and he did. I walked back out of the Lost Arms and stood out on the street wondering what to do, when a car pulled around the corner and stopped right in front of me. It was the dented yellow taxi I had seen earlier. Up close its dents looked worse, with one of the doors so banged up I could scarcely read the words BELLEROPHON TAXI printed on the side.
“Need a taxi, friend?” asked the driver, and it took me a moment to see that he was a little younger than I was. He had a friendly smile and a small scab on his cheek, like someone had given him a hard poke, and he was wearing a blue cap too large for him with BELLEROPHON TAXI printed on it in less dented lettering.
“I’m afraid I don’t have any money,” I said.
“Oh, that’s OK,” the boy replied. “With the way things are going in this town, we generally work just for tips.”
“Do they let you drive at your age?” I asked.
“We’re substituting for our father tonight,” he replied. “He’s sick.”
“We? Who’s we?”
The boy beckoned me over, and I leaned into the taxi and saw that he was sitting on a small pile of books to reach the steering wheel. Below him, crouched on the floor of the car, was a boy who looked a little younger, with his hands on the car’s pedals. His smile was slightly wicked around the edges, as if he were the sort of person who occasionally poked his brother too hard.
“We is my brother and me,” he said in a very high voice. “I’m Pecuchet Bellerophon, and he’s my brother, Bouvard.”
I told them my name and tried to pronounce theirs. “Nothing personal, but your names make my tongue tired. What do people call you?”
“They call me Pip,” said the brother holding the steering wheel, “and him Squeak.”
“Because I work the brakes,” squeaked Squeak.
“Of course,” I said. “Well, Pip and Squeak, I need to get to the lighthouse.”
“The Mallahan place?” Pip said. “Sure, hop in.”
I looked at the books he was sitting on. They looked like they were from the library, and some of them were books I admired very much. “Are you really sure you’re old enough to drive?” I said.
“Are you old enough to go to the edge of town by yourself?” Pip replied. “Come on, get in.”
I got in, and Squeak hit the gas. Pip steered the car expertly through the crumbly, half-deserted blocks of Stain’d-by-the-Sea. I spotted a grocery store, empty but open, and a department store with mannequins in the window that wanted to go home. The sun was beginning to set behind the tall tower in the shape of a pen. I tried to think about the statue of the Bombinating Beast, but my mind wandered, first to the caves I had seen, where frightened octopi were giving up their ink, and then to a bigger, deeper hole back in the city. I told myself to stop thinking about things I couldn’t do anything about, and looked out the window as the taxi passed the Sallis mansion and continued on up the hill.
“Has your father ever driven Mrs. Sallis anyplace?” I asked.
“I don’t think so,” Pip replied. “When the Sallis family was in town, they had their own chauffeur.”
“Aren’t they in town now?”
“If they are, nobody told us,” Squeak said from the floor of the car.
In a few minutes we had passed the small white cottage, and Squeak brought the taxi to an expert stop in front of the lighthouse door. “Do you want us to stick around and drive you back into town later?” Pip asked me.
“No, thanks,” I said.
“Well, I hope you know what you’re doing, coming out here without a way to get back,” Pip said, and reached around to open my door. “How about a tip?”
“Here’s a tip,” I said. “Next time you’re at the library, check out a book about a champion of the world.”
“By that author with all the chocolate?”
“Yes, but this one’s even better. It has some very good chapters in it.”
“That’s the kind of tip we can use,” Squeak said. “Pip reads to me between fares.”
I shut the door behind me and gave the window of the cab a knock good-bye. Pip waved, and the taxi drove off. I waited until the sound of the engine had faded, and then stood for a moment looking up at the lighthouse. I hoped the same thing the two substitute drivers of Bellerophon Taxi hoped: that I knew what I was doing. I doubted it. I heard the eerie rustle of the wind through the seaweed of the Clusterous Forest, far below me, and then in front of me the more ordinary sound of a door opening.
“Lemony Snicket,” said a voice.
I turned to look at the girl who had spoken. “What’s the news, Moxie?”
“You tell me,” she said. “You’re the one who showed up at my door.”
I squinted into the dim sky until I could see the faint, thick line of the hawser stretched out above me and angling down the hill. Why not, I thought, and turned back to Moxie Mallahan. “I’d like to extend an invitation,” I said.
She gave me a small smile. “Oh yes? For what?”
“For a burglary taking place this evening at your home,” I said, and walked through the door.