The Case of the Bad Twin

by Shannon Greenland

  The boat sways as another boat slowly motors past, and she grabs my arm, slings the cuff around my wrist, and has me hooked to the boat’s steering wheel before I barely have a chance to blink. She laughs at my shocked expression and then takes the key and unlocks me.

  “Wow.” I rub my wrist even though it wasn’t painful. “That was awesome!”

  Next, she takes the slingshot. “’Cuffs are good for up close, but for distance, you’ll want this.”

  I watch as she takes a marble from the sling shot’s bag. Standing in her black bikini, she loads it, aims for a channel marker sitting in the water about twenty-five yards away, and then fires. A couple of seconds later I hear a ding. She hit her target.

  She demonstrates again. “Grip at the base, hold horizontal, turn sideways, brace your legs, line up your shot, pull back, exhale, release.” The sign dings again, and she hands it to me. “You try.”

  I do, and mine skips across the water. I try again, and it hits the wood base of the sign. One more time and it skips the water again. Okay, obviously I’m going to need practice.

  “Let’s move on to the lock picks.” She disappears down below again and comes back a minute later with a metal lock. “There are all kinds of different locks but this will get you started.”

  Diamond sits down beside me and puts the small lock between her bare knees. She slides a tool from the lock picking set she gave me. “Insert the tension wrench into the bottom of the keyhole and push down a little bit.” She pulls out another tool. “Insert the pick at the top. You’re going to twist the wrench slightly all while scrubbing the pick back and forth.”

  A couple of seconds go by, the lock pops open, and I suck in a breath. “Diamond, you are amazing!”

  With a smile, she hands everything over. I put the lock between my knees and I mirror everything she did. It takes me several tries with her coaching me the entire time, but the lock finally pops open, and I squeal like I won the lottery or something.

  Diamond laughs. “That’s all I’ve got for you now. Like I said, I’ll check with Dad on a few other things.” Looking at the time on her phone, she stands. “Dad’s picking me up in a few minutes. I got to get some clothes on. Want to meet up tomorrow?”

  “Definitely.”

  She nods to the stuff she gave me. “Try to get some practice in.”

  “I will.”

  Chapter 5

  Aunt Grace and I live on the south end of Piper Island where houses are allowed to do pretty much whatever they want. We definitely don’t live in one of those neighborhoods where all the houses look alike and the yards, too. “Cookie cutter” is what Aunt Grace calls them.

  Nope, not us. With a yard full of colorful potted plants, vibrant stones, glass bubble lights, wood wind chimes, flower spinners, and way too many aquatic figurines, our house looks like a hippie burped and this is what came out.

  I like it, though. I’ve got no complaints.

  In the carport on the left sits her Juice Truck/Airstream with her yellow Volkswagen Thing still attached to the tow hitch. She must have just gotten home. I park Lolli, and sliding past, I head in the side door. I drop my messenger bag containing the items Diamond gave me in my mom’s old bedroom, now mine, and find Aunt Grace in her art studio.

  Clover, my Pocket Beagle, leaps off her elevated bed and straight into my arms. I swear she’s got part cat in her. Wiggling, she licks my chin, and I giggle. Mom gave me Clover three years ago. She gave me lots of things over the years. Every time I helped her with a con, I got a present in return, Clover being the latest.

  Aunt Grace let me keep Clover, but she made me donate all the other presents to charity. She said I shouldn’t be rewarded for bad behavior and that I needed to balance things out by giving the presents away. At the time I was mad, but now I get it. It’s why I volunteer to do pretty much everything I can. I figure I have a lot of balancing to do, not only for myself but for my mom, too.

  Over on the far wall hangs a picture of Grandma Susan, Aunt Grace, and my mom, all with windblown blonde hair and dark brown eyes. Mom’s about my age in that picture.

  I love looking at it. I love even more that I look just like them. That picture was taken right before Grandma Susan died. After that, my aunt took over raising Mom, and now she’s raising me. It doesn’t seem fair, but Aunt Grace has never once complained.

  I’ve never come out and asked her, but I’ve often wondered if Aunt Grace thinks she did something wrong in raising Mom. Like does Aunt Grace blame herself for Mom becoming a criminal? I don’t know, but I definitely plan on being on the right side of the law. If anything, to show Aunt Grace how great she is and that she’s not to blame for Mom.

  Bent over her pottery wheel, my aunt glances up at me with a smile. Though I’m not sure, I think she’s making the toothbrush holder that I requested. I wanted one with sunflowers to match my brand-new shower curtain and bath rug.

  “Did you find that Diamond girl?” she asks.

  Holding onto Clover, I slide up onto a nearby stool. “Yep, did you know her dad is a private investigator, just like Grandma and Grandpa used to be?”

  “Wow, really?”

  “Yeah, and Diamond’s so cool and super nice. I thought she was going to be a snob or something.” Clover licks my ear, reminding me I need to pet her, not just hold her, and I tickle my fingers across her ribs.

  Aunt Grace adds a bit more water to the mix. “Sounds like you made a new friend. Someone to hang with this summer?”

  “I think so.” I don’t tell Aunt Grace about all the stuff Diamond gave me. I’m not sure she would approve.

  “Any news on the time capsule?”

  “No.” I sigh, and my eyes track over to the bowl of tiny mermaids Grandpa Jack carved out of driftwood. Sure we have a few of them left, but the one we selected for the time capsule was unique. It had purple sea glass for eyes and gold painted scales.

  Aunt Grace sees where I’m looking and says, “I didn’t mean to overreact about your grandparents’ items in the time capsule. I’m just sorry it’s missing. I know how hard you worked on it. But this is a small island. Someone’s got to know something.”

  “Yeah,” I agree.

  Hopping off the stool, I set Clover down on the tile floor, and she does a whole body shake. “Well, anyway, how about falafel wraps for dinner?”

  Using her knuckle, Aunt Grace pushes her red glasses up her nose. “That’s fine, cutie, but today’s your fast food day and you said you wanted KFC. I already bought it and put it in the oven to keep it warm.”

  “Oh. Yeah.” When I was with Mom, we lived off of fast food, and I went through major withdraws when I moved in with Aunt Grace where everything is vegan. She began letting me get fast food once a week. Though she’s never said it, I think she does it so I remember Mom.

  Only, I’m not so into it anymore and lately, I’ve been forcing myself to eat it so I don’t disappoint Aunt Grace. Truth is, I prefer the way I eat now. “I was thinking—”

  “Uh, oh.”

  I laugh. “No, it’s good. How about we postpone the fast food thing. I mean, I’d like to keep my options open if I have a craving for a Big Mac or something, but you don’t need to worry about getting it for me anymore.”

  Aunt Grace doesn’t glance up at me as she concentrates on the piece. “Sounds good. I’ll see if Mr. Taylor wants that KFC. Give me a few minutes and I’ll be ready to help with dinner.”

  I wave her off. “Take your time. I got it.”

  As I pass through the art studio on the way to the kitchen, I glance out the row of wide windows across our side yard to Mr. Taylor’s house. A line of bamboo palms separates our yards, and I peer through the thick fronds to see his driveway sits empty. I shoot him a quick text to let him know we have KFC if he wants it.

  In the kitchen, I wash my hands and grab everything I need from the refrigerator. Some nights after dinner, Aunt Grace goes over to Mr. Taylor’s house to visit. If she does tonight, I’ll get out the stuff Diamond
gave me and get some practice in. If Aunt Grace doesn’t go over there, then I’m stuck. I’m not entirely sure she would approve of me picking locks, shooting marbles, and handcuffing things. But I’ve got to get some practice in some time.

  As I’m mixing the garbanzo beans and spices for falafel, my gaze trails over to the basket where Aunt Grace dumps all of our mail. On top sits an art magazine, but it’s what’s underneath that catches my eye—an envelope from my mom’s lawyer, still sealed.

  Crap, what’s wrong now?

  Chapter 6

  The next morning my phone twerps with a text from Diamond: HEY, HAVE TO HELP MY DAD THIS MORNING. SORRY.

  NO! I type back. We’re a team. She can’t bail on me before we even get started. We’ve got a big day today.

  I’LL TEXT YOU WHEN I’M DONE, she says.

  OKAY, I text back.

  Bummer.

  I snap a quick mirror selfie of my outfit—pink sundress that Aunt Grace made, purple silk neck scarf courtesy of Grandma Susan’s stash, green flip flops, and the canvas messenger bag I always carry with Grandpa Jack’s hand-painted mermaids. I love leaving home every day dressed like this because I feel like I have my whole family with me.

  I text the picture to Diamond. YOU’VE GOT THE BAD COP THING GOING ON AND SO I’LL BE GOOD COP.

  LOVE! she texts back.

  Maybe one day I’ll work up to the “bad cop” look, but again, X-Men reject. THEY’LL NEVER SEE ME COMING, I tell her.

  I also send her a quick pic of the business cards I printed last night. I figure if I’m going to investigate the missing time capsule, and if I’m going to one day reopen Piper Investigations, I might as well go ahead and be official.

  Diamond sends me a thumbs up in response.

  Clover follows me out to my bike, doing her business in the yard. If I’m not going to be at school, I usually take her along on my rides. She looks up at me, wagging her tail, waiting for me to put her in the padded basket.

  “Okay,” I say. “But I’ve got a lot going on today. So, I need you to be extra good.”

  Her tail pauses for a second like she’s considering my words, and then it picks back up with the wag. I take that as a yes and pick her up.

  With her tucked down inside the padded basket, I turn left onto the coastal highway. With the dunes and ocean on my right and a row of hippie houses just like ours on the left, I peddle Lolli in the biking lane on the way to The Pit to question Josie.

  As I come to a fork in the highway—right to stay near the ocean or left to head into town—I slow in my peddling. The convenience store where Mama Garcia works sits at the split in the road. I wonder if she knows about the missing time capsule. I wonder if she knows Rocco is the prime suspect.

  Hm. Probably best to stop here first and get a feel for the situation.

  Pulling up outside the store, I throw my kickstand down. I tighten my ponytail before grabbing Clover and my messenger bag, and a sudden flare of nerves brings me to a halt. This isn’t some friendly and kind grandma I’m about to question. This is Mama Garcia, the woman who stays perpetually annoyed.

  I take a breath. Okay. I can do this.

  Hello, Mrs. Garcia, I was just curious if you heard about the missing time capsule?

  Hi, Mrs. Garcia, did Rocco tell you we talked yesterday?

  Hey, Mrs. Garcia, I think your grandson may be playing a prank.

  It doesn’t matter what I say to her, she’s going to give me that intimidating glower that she’s famous for.

  Either way, another deep breath, and here goes nothing. I put my hand on the glass door, and I push inside.

  The air conditioning slaps into me and my skin pebbles with bumps that make me shiver. I spy Mama Garcia over behind the counter stocking cigarettes. A woman around Aunt Grace’s age stands over by the chip aisle, deep in thought as she reads the back of a bag.

  I step up to the counter and clear my throat. Mama Garcia takes her time turning around, and I brace myself for the snarl. Her black and gray hair curls away from her face in a style I have to admit looks pretty cool. Her light eyes, just like Rocco’s, narrow in on me, and I know now where Rocco learned that squint he does.

  I try to smile but it comes out shakier than anything else. “Hi, Mrs. Garcia, I’m—”

  “I know who you are.” She scowls at Clover. “Dogs aren’t allowed in here.”

  Clover gives a muffled woof like she’s scared to go too loud with it, and I pull her closer, afraid Mama Garcia will snatch her with her witchy fingers. “I’ll only be a minute. I’m looking for—”

  “I know who you’re looking for, and I’m not telling you or nobody nothing.”

  I don’t know why I thought this was a good idea. I knew this wouldn’t work. Still, I reach inside my messenger bag and pull out the business cards I printed up.

  * * *

  PENNY-ANN PIPER

  PIPER INVESTIGATIONS

  904-555-0122

  * * *

  Now that I’m actually handing someone one of these, I feel kind of silly. But at the same time, I figure it will make me look professional and like I know what I’m doing.

  I slide the card across the counter, forging on. “I found Rocco’s bracelet at the scene of the crime, and he admitted to being on campus. Also, Josie says she saw him running away with something under his arm. I really just want the time capsule back. Heck, there’s even a fifty-dollar reward now.”

  Mama Garcia looks at the card and snorts. “I knew your mom when she was a teenager. Used to come in here all the time. Even gave me a fake id, trying to buy cigarettes. She had everyone around this island suckered in with her sweet smile and too easy lies. She was a sneaky one, that girl, and loved stirring up drama. Didn’t surprise me when she got thrown in the slammer. I saw that coming.”

  Mama Garcia leans forward. “Maybe you’re a chip off the ole block. Maybe you stole the capsule, and you’ve got everyone around this place running in circles, stirring up drama, just like your mom would’ve done.”

  I don’t respond. I don’t think I can. I open my mouth to try and end up swallowing instead.

  “My Rocco’s a good boy. You leave him out of this.”

  All I can manage is a nod as I shuffle backward, turn, and scoot out of the store. Tears bubble up in my eyes, and I sniff them back as I put Clover in her basket. I didn’t know Mama Garcia knew my mom, but it makes sense. If she knew my mom, then all the other older residents around this island probably do, or rather did, too.

  Do they all think that about me—that I’m like my mom? My God, do they all know Mom’s in jail?

  Chapter 7

  My conversation with Mama Garcia is all I think about as I peddle Lolli to The Pit to see Josie. Maybe I should just go back home and hide out for the day. Or maybe I can talk Aunt Grace into moving away from Piper Island to someplace new where no one knows my mom.

  Except, Aunt Grace would never do that. She was born and raised here, as was my mom. Aunt Grace loves this island. She has a Juice Truck. She still lives in the home my grandparents built. Heck, the island is named after my family. My whole history is rooted in this place.

  Which cycles me back around to the time capsule. If I can find it, then I’ll prove to Mama Garcia and all the other islanders like her that I am different. I am good. I most definitely didn’t take the capsule to “stir up drama”. I can’t believe Mama Garcia would even suggest that. I’m going to prove to everyone that I’m more like Aunt Grace and my grandparents than my mom.

  By the time I coast Lolli down the last block toward The Pit and Josie, I’m even more determined to make something happen.

  Josie was the first friend I made when I came here to live with Aunt Grace three years ago. I was ten years old, and I’d forgotten my rain jacket. Josie gave me hers because she had a black and white polka-dotted umbrella. I loved that umbrella and wish she would have given it to me instead of the rain jacket, but after that, we were inseparable.

  Until I beat her at t
he Spelling Bee, and she didn’t talk to me for a month.

  But then I elbowed a boy who was picking on her, and we became friends again.

  Until she beat me at the sidewalk art show, and that time I stopped talking to her.

  But then she gave me a Valentine's card, and we became friends again.

  Until we tied for first in the talent show and of course stopped talking. Honestly, though, I should’ve won. I mean, come on, my dance routine with Clover was far superior to Josie’s baton twirling.

  That’s me and Josie, though, with the latest argument over the time capsule. Aunt Grace says it’s because we’re too alike. I’m not sure I like that analogy or that I agree with it.

  Anyway, Josie’s parents own the island’s “old school” gym. There’s a flashy new one that went in last year complete with treadmills, a lap pool, stair masters, elliptical machines, yoga classes, massage, etcetera.

  Then there’s The Pit where all the “serious” athletes work out. Where her twin brothers train in mixed martial arts.

  The Pit sits in the northwest corner of Piper Island in the same run-down strip mall as the Dollar Tree, a laundromat, and a Sub Shop. It also backs up to a storage facility painted red, white, and blue. Very patriotic.

  I peddle Lolli up onto the cracked sidewalk and wedge my kickstand down. I take a second to slurp down some coconut water and using the foldable dog bowl I travel with, I give some to Clover, too. I’ve never met another dog that likes coconut water, but Clover sure does. Though Aunt Grace tells me too much isn’t good for her, so I carry regular water as well.

  As I’m recapping the container, I check my phone. It’s 10:45 in the morning. For Josie, this summer will be just like last summer. She works with her dad here in the mornings, and then after 12:00, she’s free to play.

  Her twin brothers work the afternoon shift, and since I still struggle with which twin is the good one and which is the bad one, I plan on being far away from this place by then.