California Schemin': Book One in the Malibu Mayhem Trilogy

by Carolyn Keene

  “Oh, no!” Cinnamon cried after the needles had clattered onto the floor. “They were sterile until now.”

  “Later!” Bess said to Cinnamon with a little wave. “Nancy and I have to change for the cruise.”

  We shot past her and practically ran to our rooms. Once inside, Bess flopped back on her bed and stared at the ceiling.

  “That was close,” she said. “What about the others? Shouldn’t we tell Mandy and Mallory that their sister is being injected with that drug?”

  “Not yet,” I said. “We’ll contact the police when the time is right.”

  “Nancy, if we don’t get the police here soon, we’ll never help Mia or the others,” Bess said.

  “Roland is a pro. He’ll just trick the police into thinking this is a harmless self-help spa.”

  “I guess,” Bess said.

  “That’s why the garbage bags with the needles are vital,” I said. “If we can get evidence that the retreat is dumping trash in the ocean, it’ll blow the whistle on everything else in this place.”

  Bess closed her eyes to take a rest. I texted George, telling her about the cruise. She answered immediately: IF U NEED ME SOS!

  I was about to rest myself when there was a knock on our door. Bess sat straight up.

  “Who is it?” I called.

  “It’s me, Daisy,” a soft voice replied.

  Bess got up and opened the door. Daisy’s face was pale and her hair disheveled.

  “Come on in,” Bess said, whisking her into the room and shutting the door. “Are you okay? I hate to say it, but you look awful.”

  “I know, I know.” Daisy sighed as she sat down on my bed. “We just had the most awful workshop.”

  “Workshop?” I asked, sitting next to her.

  “Roland had a table covered with the most awesome-looking chocolates,” Daisy explained. “And me being such a foodie—I mean pig—I couldn’t wait to try some.”

  “Sounds like fun to me,” Bess said.

  “Not exactly,” Daisy said. “I bit into a chocolate and thought I’d die. They were filled with wasabi and jalapeno peppers!”

  “Are you serious?” Bess cried.

  “I hope you spit it out, Daisy,” I said.

  “Roland wouldn’t let us. He kept shouting at us to feel the fire in our bellies. All I could feel was the fire in my mouth,” Daisy said.

  I placed my arm around Daisy’s shoulder. Another crazy and dangerous workshop led by Roland.

  “I know I was a Roland worshipper when I got here,” Daisy admitted. “But I don’t want to be around him anymore. All I want to do is go home.”

  I was glad that Daisy was coming to her senses. But there was still something I didn’t get.

  “Why did you come to us?” I asked.

  “I could tell you weren’t crazy about the place either,” Daisy explained. “Will you leave the retreat with me?”

  I wished Bess and I could leave, but we couldn’t. We also couldn’t tell Daisy the real reason we were here. “We’re going to stay until the end of the program, Daisy,” I said gently. “But don’t let that stop you.”

  “Yeah,” Bess agreed. “Just pack your things, go downstairs, and leave.”

  “The retreat took my money when I got here.” Daisy sighed. “How will I get home? My mom lives in Denver.”

  I didn’t think Bess and I could help Daisy in any way. Then I had an idea.

  “Daisy, go the house next door and introduce yourself to George,” I said.

  “George?” Daisy repeated. “Is he your brother? Boyfriend?”

  Bess giggled and said, “George is a girl. Her real name is Georgia—but don’t tell her I told you.”

  “George will let you call your mom so you can arrange a way home,” I explained. “You can stay with her until you figure something out.”

  I pulled out my phone and found a picture of George. “Here.” I showed it to Daisy. “This is what she looks like. I’ll text her to let her know you’re coming.”

  “You have a phone in here?” Daisy gasped. “I thought we weren’t allowed to have phones.”

  “Let’s just say we beat the system,” I said with a smile.

  “Thanks, you guys!” Daisy exclaimed. She hugged both Bess and me. “I’ll sneak out before the cruise.”

  “Wait a minute,” I said as Daisy headed toward the door. “What about your friend Terrence? Doesn’t he want to go with you?”

  “Terrence suddenly likes this lame retreat,” Daisy said sadly. “Go figure.”

  As Daisy slipped out of the room I whispered, “Good luck.”

  I texted George to give her the heads-up on Daisy. WHAT ABOUT MIA? George texted back. BRAINWASHED, was all I replied.

  At least Daisy was being rescued. I looked up from my phone and smiled. “One down. Now let’s get ready for that mystery cruise.”

  “Glad you could make it!” Roland said as he greeted everyone on the beach. He was standing about ten feet away from the big covered tent, wearing khaki shorts, a Hawaiian aloha shirt, and a shiny silver admiral’s whistle around his neck.

  In their island wear, Ralph and Linda resembled the Howells from Gilligan’s Island. It was hard to tell if the couple was loopy from “vitamin” injections or just being themselves.

  Roland began checking names on a clipboard. For the first time since we began the program, Terrence was standing alone.

  “I’m glad Daisy got away,” I pointed out. “But poor Terrence.”

  Roland grinned as we made our way to him and his clipboard. “Nancy and Bess.” He checked our names off with a flourish. “Check…and check. Enjoy the cruise, you two.”

  “Thanks,” was all I could say.

  As we walked away from Roland, Bess whispered, “I don’t see Mia anywhere, or the trash bags.”

  “What happened to them?” I wondered.

  Just then someone called our names.

  We turned to see Mia, heading over to Roland. She smiled slyly at us and said, “Nice tans.”

  “Ignore her, Bess,” I whispered. “Let her think that we’ve fallen under Roland’s spell too.”

  I felt my phone vibrate in my jacket pocket. “There goes my phone,” I whispered. “Stay here while I take it.”

  I ran all the way around the big tent. When I was sure I was hidden from the others, I pulled out my phone and read George’s text: WHERE IS DAISY? NEVER SHOWED UP.

  “Never showed up?” I said, staring at the message. Quickly I sent George a question mark.

  Bess joined me behind the tent. I showed her George’s text. “Maybe she got her money back from Roland and went home to Denver,” she said.

  But when we stepped out from behind the tent, I spotted Daisy walking alone on the beach.

  “Daisy!” I called.

  She turned to us, poker-faced, as we came running over.

  “Why didn’t you go next door to George?” I asked.

  “I decided I wanted to stay here,” Daisy answered flatly. “My renewal intensive has only begun.”

  Her voice was lifeless, and so were her eyes. What had happened to her since she came to our room?

  “Daisy, you told us you didn’t want to be around Roland anymore,” I said slowly. “He made you eat hot chili peppers. You said that was the last straw.”

  “I was just being resistant.” Daisy shrugged. “Roland says it’s natural and part of the renewal process.”

  “But—,” I began to say.

  “See you on the cruise,” Daisy interrupted. She then turned away and walked toward Terrence.

  “They got to her,” I said. “Whether it was another injection or some other creepy method—this is trouble.”

  “Nancy,” Bess said. “Daisy knows you have a phone and that you’re connecting with George. What if she tells Roland or Inge?”

  “Hopefully she’s too spaced out to remember,” I said.

  The screech of Roland’s whistle made Bess and me jump.

  “All hands on deck!” Rolan
d shouted. “Listen to Inge for instructions.”

  Inge briskly directed us to climb into three separate rowboats. Bess and I shared one with Brad and Danielle and an attendant working the oars.

  “How’s your foot, Danielle?” I asked as we began to drift toward the yacht.

  Danielle glanced down at her foot, still bandaged. “Well,” she said. “It’s still a bit—”

  “Couldn’t be better,” Brad cut in.

  Bess and I traded a look that said, Whatever.

  As we neared the yacht I caught a whiff of something definitely not a cruise buffet. Bess screwed up her nose too.

  “I think we just found those garbage bags,” she whispered. “They’re already loaded onto the yacht.”

  Roland’s gleaming silver yacht was even more impressive close up. Over a hundred feet long, it looked like one of those luxury super-yachts.

  “Hurry aboard, hurry aboard,” Roland shouted to us from the hull. “We have lots of inner work to do.”

  As we climbed aboard, we were greeted by crew members wearing white jackets with the sunburst logo. We were also greeted by a table filled with cookies, soda, and chips.

  “At least the bean dip has protein,” Bess said.

  Retro disco music blared from speakers as the yacht drifted gently out to sea. Lanterns strung across the deck created a colorful glow as the sun began to set in the distance.

  “I can smell the garbage, but I don’t see it,” I said, my eyes darting around the deck. “Where do you think those bags are?”

  “You know the old saying,” Bess whispered. “Seek and ye shall find.”

  We tried not to look obvious as we searched the main deck. Somewhere near the bow I spotted a mound underneath a tarp. Making sure no one was around, I pulled it back. Underneath were, not trash bags, but about six steel drums marked DIESEL OIL, HIGHLY FLAMMABLE.

  “Whoa,” I said. “There must be hundreds of gallons of oil in those things.”

  “Why would Roland carry this much oil onboard?” Bess wondered. “A yacht this size must have a huge fuel tank.”

  “Maybe he’s stocking up for a long journey at sea,” I said, covering the drums. “Hopefully this cruise isn’t it!”

  We were about to keep on searching when the music suddenly stopped.

  “Everybody!” Inge shouted. “It’s time for Roland’s inspirational message.”

  “Here we go again,” Bess said as everyone sat cross-legged on the dance floor. Roland was seated on an elaborate wicker fan chair instead of on a velvet throne.

  Once everybody was ready, Inge nodded with approval. She then walked off, leaving Roland to gaze out at us with his steely eyes. When he looked at me, I smiled over gritted teeth. I was actually happy when he finally spoke.

  “Some of you have heard me talk about ‘stinkin’ thinkin’,’” Roland began. “It’s the negative and damaging thoughts we choose to control our lives.”

  I could see Mia lean forward as she took in Roland’s words. If we were lucky, Mia—and even Daisy—wouldn’t say anything about my phone. If either one did, we were toast!

  “You know those thoughts,” Roland said, his voice beginning to rise. “I’m too fat! I’m not rich enough! I don’t have my own reality show! Garbage! Garbage! Garbage thinking!”

  I could see others nodding as if they got it. Brad actually had tears streaming down his face.

  “The time has come to take those nasty, horrible thoughts and kick ’em to the curb,” Roland said as he rose to his feet.

  An attendant wheeled a large canvas bin over to Roland. The bin was overflowing with white plastic bags!

  “Bess, there they are,” I whispered.

  “Many of you know the drill, since we’ve done this before,” Roland said, his eyes flashing with excitement. “Everyone, grab a white bag. Take it over to the railing, and when I give you the signal, spill the trash—and your negative insecurities—into the sea!”

  “But Roland, won’t we be polluting the ocean?” Ralph asked. There was a murmuring in the crowd.

  “No,” Roland answered. “These bags contain pure, organic materials that won’t harm the waters. The dumping will purify your souls.”

  The others raced toward the bin. Bess and I were too stunned to move.

  “Do you believe this?” Bess asked. “Roland is using the trash as a symbol for negative thinking.”

  “And we now know that’s how the garbage got onto Stacey’s beach,” I said. “It was dumped off the yacht the night I heard those voices.”

  “Move it, you two,” Brad shouted at us. “Get with the program!”

  Bess and I stood and walked slowly toward the bin. Some people were already racing toward the railing with their bags.

  “I’m going to try to record this insanity,” I whispered.

  “What should I do?” Bess asked. “I can’t pollute the ocean—even if it’s just one bag.”

  I saw Mia glaring at Bess and me.

  “Pretend to go along with it,” I whispered, nudging Bess toward the bin.

  “Hurry, hurry, hurry!” Roland shouted as the other guests pulled bags from the bin. Some were already untying and emptying bags over the rails.

  “Garbage in, garbage out!” they began to chant. “Garbage in, garbage out!”

  Everything was so chaotic that no one saw me slip behind the cockpit. With my back to the wall, I pulled out my phone. I pressed record and carefully reached out my arm.

  “And…action,” I whispered to myself.

  “Okay, everybody!” Roland shouted. “Release all that negative energy. Garbage in, garbage out! Garbage in, garbage out!”

  I couldn’t see much of the action, but I could hear. And what I heard next was someone yelling, “Stop!!!”

  The deck became silent. Still recording, I peeked out and saw Inge storming over to Roland.

  “Yes, Inge?” Roland asked.

  “I must speak to you privately. NOW,” Inge said. “Everyone, continue reflecting. We will be right back.”

  She took Roland by the sleeve and pulled him near to where I was hiding.

  “You didn’t tell me you had the trash loaded on the yacht,” Inge hissed.

  “I don’t believe I have to tell you everything,” Roland snapped.

  “Roland, don’t you remember what happened the last time we did this exercise?” Inge asked. “The trash washed up on Stacey Manning’s beach.”

  I tried to keep my hand from shaking as I held the phone. Inge was admitting the whole thing, and I was getting it word for word!

  “You were supposed to get the attendants to clean it up, but you never did,” she went on.

  “How was I supposed to know some girl would step on one of our needles?” Roland said.

  Omigod! He was talking about George!

  “Roland, this is a bad idea and you know it,” Inge said. “The last thing we need is the police knocking on our door.”

  “The police?” Roland repeated.

  After a beat he turned to the people at the rail and shouted, “Okay, change of plans, everyone. Return your bags to the bin. We’ll do another exercise later.”

  Everyone except Bess looked disappointed as they carried their bags back to the bin. As I stepped out from behind the cockpit, I pressed the stop recording button.

  “Done,” I told myself.

  I looked up from the phone.

  My blood froze.

  Staring straight at me—and my phone—was Mia!

  UNSPEAKABLE ACTS

  “I just hung up with my father. He’s not well,” I lied.

  But then I told the truth. “Family is really important to me,” I said, and shot Mia a look that said, Don’t you dare as I stuffed the phone into my jacket pocket. Mia narrowed her eyes at me before heading toward the bin.

  “Well?” Bess said as she hurried over. “Did you record everything?”

  “Mission accomplished, but Mia caught me in the act.” I sighed.

  “What if she tells Roland
or Inge?” Bess asked.

  “Let’s hope she listened to me,” I said, and patted” the pocket holding my phone. “This is the proof we need to go to the police.”

  When all the bags were in the bin, music pumped and everyone drifted to the dance floor and buffet table. Bess and I passed on the snacks.

  “Not only am I sick of sugar and carbs,” Bess said, “but who knows if Roland slipped something into the food or the drinks?”

  We kept our eyes on Mia, watching to see if she would go to Roland. She was busy dancing with Terrence. So far so good.

  After another hour or so, I could see the retreat coming up in the distance. The cruise was coming to an end.

  “Everyone gather for a final meditation,” Inge called out.

  Bess and I rolled our eyes at each other as we took our place on the dance floor. Mia sat directly behind us as we pretended to meditate.

  Will she still rat on us after we get back to the mansion? I wondered.

  All the more reason for getting my phone to the police as soon as possible.

  The yacht anchored, and rowboats were waiting below ready to ferry us back to shore.

  “What now?” Bess whispered as we climbed together into a rowboat.

  “We go straight to our room,” I whispered back. “We’ll pack our stuff, sneak back to our house, and call the police from there.”

  “What are you guys whispering about?” Brad demanded.

  Bess stared zombielike at Brad. “Just what a fabulous cruise this was,” she said.

  “Roland rocks,” I added robotically.

  When the boat reached shore, Bess and I practically leaped out. On the way up the beach, we walked by the tent. Attendants were slipping in and out of the flap doorway. I was tempted to peek inside, but there was no time. We had to escape the retreat, and fast.

  Once inside the mansion, Bess and I bolted upstairs. Without bothering to take off my jacket, I began stuffing my things into my duffel bag.

  “Did you send the evidence to George?” Bess asked.

  “I will now,” I replied.

  I reached into the pocket of my jacket. But all I could feel was a packet of mints and a crumpled bill. Did I put the phone in my other pocket? I jammed my hand into it, only to feel a balled-up tissue and nothing else.