Pumpernickel’s was an antique bookshop run by a clown by the name of Sir Reginald Van Pumpernickel. The man was a fancy sort of clown who wore a three-piece suit straight out of the seventeenth century accessorized with a gold pocket watch, a cream-colored top hat, and tiny round-lens reading glasses that perched on the tip of his plump green nose.
“Smiles, my boy,” Pumpernickel said upon Pinky’s arrival. “Come in, come in.”
The bookshop owner stepped down from a ladder, holding a stack of old leather-bound hardbacks. Pinky helped him carry the books to the front counter.
“It’s always a pleasure to see you. How have you been?”
Pinky nodded. “I’m doing well. I haven’t read the book you recommended to me last week. Things have been rather hectic lately.”
“Which book was that again?”
“The Count of Monte Cristo.”
“Ah, yes yes. One of my absolute favorites. You must make time to read it, my boy. It is one of the quintessential works.”
Pinky had to switch the topic immediately. Get Pumpernickel going on the topic of literature and he’d go on for hours.
“I’m meeting Spotty. Is he here?”
“In his office,” Pumpernickel said. “I believe he’s waiting for you.”
“Thanks,” Pinky said and went toward the door in the back of the shop.
Despite his shabby appearance, Captain Spotty was a bit of a rare-book collector. He was also one of Pumpernickel’s best customers. Many years back, when Spotty worked under Uncle Jojo, he was ordered to shake down some of the local businesses for protection money. When he came across Pumpernickel and his little antique bookshop, he knew the old guy wasn’t getting enough business to even keep the place afloat, let alone pay a few points to the Bozo Family. So Spotty offered to pay Jojo the protection money himself in exchange for taking over the back storeroom to use as his office. The deal worked out well for old Pumpernickel, because Spotty soon developed a love for old books, being surrounded by them and all. The clownfella had ended up dumping a small fortune into his book collection over the years. Even Sir Reginald’s personal collection was not quite as vast as Spotty’s.
When Pinky Smiles entered his office, Spotty was flipping through a copy of Don Quixote. Pinky was very familiar with that book. Spotty rarely ever took it out of the case. It was far too valuable.
“Remember this book?” Spotty asked, holding up the old volume as cockroaches crawled across the cover.
Pinky nodded and closed the door behind him.
“This is the same book you tried to shoplift from this store ten years ago. Don Quixote. First complete English edition. A very valuable book.” Spotty snickered and shook his head. “You were so young back then.”
Pinky sat down in a chair next to his desk. “Yeah, I thought I would’ve gotten away with it, too. Pumpernickel had no idea I’d be able to pick the lock on the bookcase so quickly.”
“If I hadn’t come out of my office right at that moment, you would’ve gotten away with it.”
“I would’ve brought it back,” Pinky said.
“Yeah, that’s what you said at the time. Of course, I didn’t believe you.” Spotty flipped through the pages, wearing special gloves to prevent his finger oils from damaging the pages. “I remember it like it was yesterday. You said you took it just because you wanted to read it. You had no idea how valuable it was.”
“I didn’t know I could’ve gotten it from any library.”
“Right then, I knew there was something special about you. Not many kids your age were reading books, let alone going through so much trouble to steal one.”
“I just wanted to know what it was about. The way old Pumpernickel kept it locked up like a treasure, I thought it had to be a really good book. I had to read it.”
“I made you work off the offense in Pumpernickel’s shop for the whole summer. But you did the work with pleasure, not complaining once—another trait that was rare in kids your age. And soon after that, I took you under my wing. I taught you everything you needed to know in this business. You were like a son to me.”
Then Spotty set the book on his desk. “I was going to give this to you either on your wedding day or on the day you got made, whichever came first. Then you’d finally get to read it after all these years.”
Spotty tapped his finger on the cover, staring his underling in the eyes. “Why’d you do it, kid? After all I’ve done for you, how could you betray me? I never thought you’d be the kind of clown to flip.”
Pinky then noticed the gun on Spotty’s desk. It was obvious now that his mentor was planning to whack him.
“I figured it would be better if I did the job myself,” Spotty said. “Despite what you did, I can’t let Mr. Pogo be the one to take you out.”
“You think I’m a rat, too?” Pinky asked.
“You say you aren’t?”
“Of course I’m not,” Pinky said.
Spotty shook his head. “I wish I could believe you, but the boss said there’s proof.”
“How? What proof?”
“It was Beano Moretti who hired Mr. Pogo, with the boss’s blessing. He has a fed on his payroll who informed him of a rat in our organization.”
“And the fed said it was me?”
“He said it was the clown who was sleeping with the boss’s niece. Taffy is the boss’s niece and you’re the only clown in the family dating her at the moment. So it’s kind of obvious, isn’t it?”
“No…” Pinky paused for a moment. He couldn’t believe it. They had it all wrong. “I’m not the only one sleeping with Taffy.”
Pinky’s eyes lit up. Spotty wondered if he was telling the truth.
“Then who is it?” Spotty asked.
“Just today I caught her in bed with another clown. She was with Hats.”
“Hats Rizzo?”
Pinky nodded.
Spotty thought about it for a minute, putting all the pieces together in his head. Then he ground his teeth and pounded his fist against the desk. “That no-good son of a bitch. It’s just like that bastard to rat out his friends to save his own skin.”
“So you believe me now?” Pinky asked.
“Yeah, kid,” Spotty said. “I’m sorry I doubted you.”