Poison Most Vial (18 page)

“No. We'll be seen out there. Too many windows . . . that man back inside.” He had to be up and on their trail again by now. She felt something change; something slight. The light in the hallway on the other side of the window—it was brighter. Was someone down in there now?

“You want to get trapped here?” Rex said. “We've gotta take the chance.”

“No, no. I just want to look for a few more minutes, that's all.”

“Naw, not me. Look who's the one waiting around now. I need to move, Ruby. I'm about ready to lose my mind standing round here.”

“Not yet,” she said—but it was too late. Rex pulled himself up, turned to sit on the lip of the window well.

He smiled. “'Scuse me, but what about that ladder right up there?” She turned around to see a steel ladder built into the wall, running straight up behind them.

“The escape route! Has to be,” she said. “You still got your bag, right?”

“No, I left it in there so we could come back one more time. Course I do.” Rex pulled out the corner of the white bag from inside his jacket. “Now, let's go.”

Dead quiet, and the ladder rungs so cold, the sound of their sneakers squeaking over those steel bars: Ruby felt more exposed than she had the entire previous evening. Anyone who glanced out into the courtyard would see her bright blond hair and Rex's huge form.

“Quicker,” she said to the sneakers above.

“You go quicker, if you want to. I'm just trying not to slip.”

“But it's getting lighter.”

“Well, this here bag ain't getting no lighter. Don't you be wigging on me, now.”

“You're moving like a slug.”

Up and up, three stories, four, and finally the seventh floor. One last push, up and over the small knee-high parapet that ringed the roof, the height making them tighten their grips so that it took time to let go.

“This body's not made for heights, is one true fact,” Rex said, collapsing onto the roof, which angled upward gently; the spires of the library rose black behind him. “I'll be taking a short rest, personally, so I don't have a heart attack.”

“I'm gonna go look around, then.”

Under a pale sky now, Ruby followed the parapet around to the front of the building, above the main gate. There, kneeling and braced against the short wall, she watched morning break over their entire world: the lab building down to her left, the lab school just beyond it. Out front and directly below, the sharp black outline of the iron fence separating the order of DeWitt from the chaos of College Avenue, the grimy asphalt snake. And of course the Terraces, looking at this distance like a pair of abandoned grain silos.

For a second, Ruby imagined that she could see her window, a light in there. Where was her dad?

“He must be panicked,” she said to Rex as he made his way over. “Oh, how did we not bring a phone?”

“We did. It's right here in my hand. I'm calling now.”

“What, you waited till—?”

“No reception down under, Ruby—Pa! Yes, hello—Course it's Rex, who else—I been—No, no, I'm with Ruby—Stop yelling, Pa, let me finish—no—yes—OK—We're
coming home soon, you can tell Mr. Rose, too—He's there? Tell him Ruby's right here with me. We all fine.”

Rex nodded, nodded some more, held the phone away from his ear, and made his Mr. Jeffrey face. “OK, I said OK. We'll meet you at, uh”—he looked up at Ruby; she mouthed an answer—“at Paulette's. OK? Yes, I'll explain everything.” He hung up.

“Mad?”

“Man speaks about three words a month until he gets angry, then he raves in Jamaican so bad, no one can understand him.”

“Uh, Rex? If they're going over to Paulette's to meet us, we should maybe think about getting off the roof.”

“You make a fine argument, Ruby. Very High Honors. But we can see right down College from here. Let's watch and see when they come out.”

In minutes, the whole group trickled out of the Terraces: Mr. Rose, Mr. and Mrs. Rexford, a few Travises . . . and Mrs. Whitmore! “Look who's with them,” said Ruby.

“Mrs. W. in the house—I mean, outta the house. Taking to the streets and all. Next thing, she's gonna be parked in the Orbit Room by the jukebox.”

“Which reminds me.”

“What?”

“The streets. My High Honors argument from before. Shouldn't we be down there?”

“Let's go find one of those ladders. Got to be another one. On the other side, behind.”

On their way back, staying low past the ladder from the courtyard, Ruby stopped to look down—and pulled back. “Oh no.”

“On the ladder?”

“Looks like someone coming—doesn't matter—move it, will you, we need another way down and fast.”

Around the back, there it was, same as the one from the courtyard, this one dropping from the main roof down to the roof on one of the library's wings, three floors down.

“Another roof, and no place to hide down there,” Ruby said.

“Nah, I don't care, we going down,” Rex said. “We need to break out of this haunted castle. I don't care if I have to break a window.”

Which he did. Down on the lower roof they found three large windows, all locked. Wrapping the top of the trash bag around his fist, Rex punched out a small pane in one and flipped the latch. Seconds later the two of them were inside the main science library on a landing near the fourth floor. A mumble of activity came from below.

“Hear that?” Ruby said.

“I do, and it don't sound like much. I'm walking out; they can arrest me if they want to.”

Filthy, their clothes torn, the pair shuffled down the stairs, and Ruby was sure the whole way that they'd be caught, the way it always happened on TV. You think you're safe and—
boom
—the bloody hatchet crashes through the door.

“Walk on through like we own the place, that what it's about,” Rex said.

A few heads turned as they strode through the main library, but it was still early; no one said a word. Three steps and one, three plus one, the door was getting closer, and Ruby couldn't help it: She ran. Put a shoulder down and pushed through the big door, flew down the steps.

Rex flew out right behind.

“Justin, you get yourself inside outta the street!” Rex yelled.

The little boy stopped and stared. “Ooh, T. Rex, you's in trouble!” He dashed into Sister Paulette's.

The place was all shouts, loud even for a Saturday morning. “Looka what cat drug in, big ole bear and a little tweety bird!” one of the older men called out.

“You hush up, Neville, or we gonna cut you off!” came another voice.

“Plenty about time, young man—and Ruby.” Rex's mom rushed to hug them from the table where all the parents had gathered. “Ooh, now, you come here and tell what you been into.”

Mr. Rose was angry. “Ruby! What happened to you?”

Anxious now, he hugged her. “Sit down, sit down, you both got some talking to do.”

“Dad, could we first—”

“Pudding cakes,” Rex was saying, “P-cakes. Someone needs to order up a pile, 'cuz we very ready to talk long as we can eat breakfast, and bring some of that—” He stopped. “Mrs. Whitmore, well, lookit you, all out at Paulette's to meet us.”

The older woman smiled, hesitated, and reached out both hands to greet them. “Aw, now,” Rex said. “This too nice to get some love and all, but—Oh. Yeah. Hello, Pa.”

Mr. Rexford gave his son a hard stare. “You sit down, Theodore.”

The cakes came. Rex devoured a half dozen in a minute and still had a look on his face that was—well, hungry.

“More is coming, son,” Mr. Rexford said. “Now is time you explain what you do.”

“It's my fault, sir,” said Ruby.

“Nah, that's not right, I wanted to help—”

“No, you would never have gone down if—”

“All right now, child,” Rex's father said. He placed his large hands on the table, spreading his fingers. “We not here blaming for anything. Just to know what happened. Did you get lost? Let us begin there.”

“Yes,” said Ruby, after a moment's thought. “Yes, that's right.”

Or close enough
, she thought,
for now
. The library was blocked off. The two of them did want to find that bathroom downstairs. Another kid from class—“Sharon, this girl in Regular”—and her friend—“Simon, with the briefcase, you seen him?”—anyway, those two knew how to get down there and—Rex speaking now—some grad student was snoozing, and Simon and Sharon got into an argument . . . And on it went, the two speakers taking turns, glancing periodically at Mrs. Whitmore to signal that there was more to it than student hijinks.

“Hmm,” said Mr. Rose, glancing over at Mr. Rexford; neither of them was convinced. “Sounds about as true as the stories I told at your age.”

Silence at the table, throat-clearing, everyone staring at their hands; someone coughed. Sister Paulette felt the change and moved in to clear dishes. She reached down to clear the trash bag at Rex's feet and he grabbed her hand.

“Uh, no, ma'am, I got my school project in there,” he said.

The parents looked at one another again. Ruby squirmed.

“All right now, everyone, listen here.” Mrs. Whitmore was standing up. She looked around and saw that she had everyone's attention. “This has been a tremendous occasion, one of relief and reunion, and I am privileged to be a part of
it.” The entire restaurant, including Paulette, stopped what they were doing. “But I would like to ask a favor. Of the parents, that is. If you would kindly allow it, I would like to have a moment with these two young people.”

No one moved. “You mean, leave?” said Mr. Rose. “You don't.”

“I do.”

Mrs. Whitmore, her chin raised, met the eyes of every adult at the table and—
miraculous
, she thought,
what happens when you ask
—each one got up to leave. Mr. Rose, the last to make a move, stopped and turned on his way to the door. “I know what you three are up to, and, Dr. Whitmore, I'm grateful for all your help. But I want to hear everything, soon as you're done. It's my butt on the line here, remember.”

“Dad, of course,” Ruby said.

He smiled. “Solve it for me, Ru, will ya? And soon. We're out of time.” And off he went with the Rexfords.

Mrs. Whitmore sat down, took a breath, and restrained an urge to reach for the garbage bag. “So,” she said, clearing a space on the table. “Enough storytelling. You've gathered more evidence, that's clear; I dearly hope you have not removed anything from the crime scene. That is evidence tampering, and it's a crime in its own right.”

“No,” said Ruby. “We never went in the lab at all.”

“Where, then?”

“The bushes, ma'am.”

“The bathroom, he means. See, you were right. We were missing something—Dr. Rama never left his office to go to the bathroom. That's because he was using his own, a small one under the library. We were there before, totally randomly. When the regular one was out of order.”

Mrs. Whitmore steadied her hands. “Outside the tape.”

“Huh?”

“The bathroom. It was outside the yellow police tape, correct?”

“Yup,” Rex said. “Why—we in trouble?”

“The judge will have to decide that, ultimately, and at this point I am in as deep as you are. Suffice it to say, for now, that you're in a lot less trouble than Ruby's father. So let's see what you got. All of it.”

Rex lifted the bag to the table, and there was Sister Paulette, frowning. “No trash where I serve food,” she said, sliding the table away and pulling over a small, well-worn table as a replacement. “Try this.”

Rex poured the contents out carefully: assorted tissues, crumpled receipts, a couple of empty soda cans, dirty cotton swabs, dental floss, a couple candy bar wrappers, several small glass pipettes. They were becoming garbage collectors, Ruby thought, remembering the bag she pulled from under Lydia's cubicle.

“Well, now, let's see what we have,” Mrs. Whitmore said, separating the pipettes from the other garbage with a butter knife. “I wonder if . . . I don't quite see . . . Did you find . . . ”

“Glass vials,” said Ruby. “Isn't that what those are?”

“Well, yes. I mean, no. How did you know about the vials?”

Ruby pointed to the Rama Jr. folder in front of the older woman, who smiled and shook her head. “Oh dear, very good. But those aren't the type of vials I was looking to find. Those are pipettes from the lab. What I wanted—”

“'Scuse me.” Rex was standing up, digging into his pockets. “What about these?”

With cupped hands, he gently deposited about a dozen tiny glass bottles in the center of the table.

“Hey,” Ruby said. “Where'd you get all those?”

“That hole in the wall by the sink—you see that?” Rex said. “I had no idea which glass vials she wanted. Looks like we carried around all that garbage for nothing.”