Howard Wallace, P.I.

by Casey Lyall

  We met up before lunch to compare notes. Ivy had a pile of interesting tidbits to share.

  “This kid heard that Lisa’s going to call an assembly and fire Meredith in front of the whole school.”

  “Who’d you get that from?” I asked.

  She scanned her pages. “A sixth grader who heard it from another kid named Scotty.”

  “Harris?”

  “Yeah, you know him?”

  I nodded. “Let’s check it out.”

  We entered the cafeteria and made our way over to the music kids’ table. “Howard!” Scotty called out as soon as he spotted me. He jumped up from the table and clapped a hand on my shoulder. “Guys,” he said as I struggled to keep my balance. “This is the guy I was telling you about. He’s awesome.” I gave a little wave to the kids at the table who eyed me without interest.

  “Hey, Scotty,” I said, keeping my voice low. “I need a favor.”

  He bent his head. “Anything.”

  “You know what people are saying about Meredith Reddy?”

  “Oh, yeah, I heard that Lisa’s—”

  “I know all that.” I cut him off before he could get himself wound up. “What I need to know is who you heard it from.”

  His face sank like I’d asked him to give me his favorite puppy. “Can you ask for a different favor?”

  “No, I can’t,” I said. “I won’t tell them you told me, but I need to know.”

  “You’re not going to like it.”

  “Hit me.”

  Scotty rubbed at his chin and looked away. “I heard it from a guy on my basketball team.” He mumbled a name.

  I didn’t have time for this. It wasn’t like I was asking him to divulge national secrets. I swallowed a growl of frustration. “I need a name, Scotty.”

  Blowing out a breath, he directed the words at my feet. “Miles Fletcher.”

  I slammed my notebook shut and stuffed it back in my pocket.

  “I said you wouldn’t like it,” Scotty said, his voice small and quiet.

  “Thanks, Scotty,” I patted him on the arm. “Appreciate the help.”

  I strode away from the table, and Ivy loped after me.

  “Miles Fletcher,” she said. “Isn’t he—”

  “Yes,” I said.

  “So, now we have to talk to—”

  “Yup.”

  “Okay, then.”

  I marched across the cafeteria, my coat streaming out behind me. I had to do this quick and without hesitation, like yanking off a bandage. Heads turned as I walked by, but I didn’t stop— didn’t even look to make sure Ivy was behind me. I knew she would be.

  Miles was at a table with a pile of his jock buddies, all of them laughing and throwing food at each other like primates. I stepped up to the table. After a quick double take, Miles relaxed back into studiously ignoring my existence.

  “I need to talk to you,” I said, loud enough for my voice to carry over the racket.

  He lowered his eyebrows and shook his head slightly. The other kids at the table fell silent. Some stared; the rest smirked.

  I took a deep breath. “Miles, I need to talk to you. It’s serious.”

  He finally looked at me. “Oh, well, if it’s serious.” He turned back to his gang of morons, and they yukked it up.

  Bellying up to the table, Ivy stuck a finger in his gut. “Listen, you,” she said. “We’ve got questions, and we can ask ’em here or in private. One way will be more embarrassing than the other, and you’ve got two seconds to decide which one it’ll be.”

  Miles waved her off, and Ivy said, “One . . .”

  “Get lost,” he said.

  Ivy leaned in until she was nose to nose with Miles. “Two,” she whispered and reached into her pocket. She pulled out a piece of paper and flashed it in Miles’ face. He glanced at it and stiffened.

  “Okay,” he stood up, “I’ll answer your stupid questions.”

  We led him out of the cafeteria, away from big ears and curious minds. Once we turned the corner, Miles stopped and leaned against the wall with his arms crossed. “That’s far enough,” he said. “Let’s get this over with.”

  “You passed on a rumor to Scotty Harris about Meredith Reddy getting the boot,” I said, pacing the floor in front of him.

  “Yeah, so?”

  “Who’d you hear it from?” I faced Miles, forcing myself to look him in the eye.

  “Lots of people.” Miles studied the wall, tapping the floor with the toe of his shoe. “Everyone’s talking about it.”

  “Who’d you hear it from first?” Ivy asked. She came to stand shoulder to shoulder with me.

  Miles paused his sulking long enough to look down at Ivy. “Lisa’s best friend,” he said. “If that’s not a legit source, I don’t know what is.”

  “Bradley Chen?” I asked.

  “That’s what I just said.”

  I waved a hand at Ivy. “Let’s go.”

  Miles scoffed. “Typical.”

  “What?” I wheeled back to face him, resentment burning a hole in my stomach.

  He straightened up from the wall and took a step toward me. “How about ‘thanks, Miles,’ ‘appreciate the help, Miles.’”

  And I thought his opinion of himself couldn’t get any higher. I grabbed his hand for a shake. “Thanks, Miles,” I said. “Appreciate you helping to spread nasty rumors, Miles.” I dropped his hand. “Not that I expect anything less.”

  He looked sideways at Ivy. “You friends with this guy?”

  “We’re partners,” Ivy said.

  “Good luck with that. Remember not to try anything new without his permission,” Miles said, sneering at me as he started back to the caf. “He doesn’t react well to change.”

  “See ya, Miles,” I said to his back.

  Waving a hand over his head, he pushed open the door. “Later, Howard.”

  I looked over at Ivy and pointed at her watch. “What time is it?”

  “Howard.” She stood there, hands on her hips. The flicker of sympathy in her eyes had me cursing Miles all over again.

  I threw my arms out, shaking off the past. “What?”

  “Oh, please,” Ivy said. “What was that? Miles?” She waved her hands in the air. “The weirdness?”

  I groaned. Ivy was determined to hash through old history, like I hadn’t bled enough for one day. “I already told you,” I said. “He ditched me and Noah when he leveled up on the school food chain. End of story.”

  “Sounds like there’s a little more to it than that.” My new partner was nothing if not tenacious. “Care to shed some light on his words of warning?” she asked.

  “No.”

  Ivy grabbed me by the sleeves and gave them a yank. “Howard, talk to me,” she said. “If we’re going to be partners, I need to know the truth.”

  The words “junior partner” were barely out of my mouth before Ivy let out a small scream of frustration. “Howard, you tell me the whole story right now or I swear I’m walking away.”

  “Fine,” I said, wrenching my arms out of her grasp. “You want to know? Here it is. Yes, I didn’t like it when he first started joining teams.” I paced in front of the lockers, annoyed at myself for getting so worked up. Nothing like talking to Miles to make me lose my cool. The talking had been unavoidable, but letting him get to me wasn’t. I knew better.

  “Sports were never our thing,” I explained. “We were more superhero costumes and card games. When he started hanging out with those meatheads, I couldn’t see how we fit anymore.” Pointing a finger at Ivy, I stopped. “But you know what he left out? How very quickly he proved me right.”

  Ivy had opened the door, and my pent-up grievances came out in a tidal wave. “He and his friends stuffed my head in a toilet after gym. They tried to hang me from the bleachers by my shorts after school. One of his new idiot buds almost broke Noah’s nose playing dodgeball. They—”

  Ivy held her hands up. “Howard, it’s okay. I get it.”

  “It’s okay? I
’m glad I have your permission to be upset about this.”

  “No, I mean . . .” Ivy sighed and slid to the floor, “I know how hard it can be when someone abandons you like that.”

  I kicked at a bottom locker and then gave it one more for good measure. “What would you know about it?”

  “My mom left,” Ivy said. “Back in January. That’s why my dad moved us here. I wasn’t handling it well.”

  Nothing throws a sucker punch quite like perspective. I plopped down on the floor beside Ivy, taking a moment to absorb that newsflash. “Define not handling it well.”

  “Oh, you know,” she said breezily, “joined every club and team there was to keep busy. My dad and I went to counseling. None of that helped, so I got creative. Tried my hand at shoplifting and other stupider stuff.”

  “I knew I should have asked for a background check.”

  Ivy rolled her eyes, but at least it got a little smile out of her. “I got caught before I did any serious damage,” she said. “But it was enough to earn me a one-way ticket to the merry old land of Grantleyville.”

  “The punishment does not fit the crime in this case,” I said. “Sorry about your luck.”

  “It’s not as bad as I thought,” she said. “You’re a pain, but Miles seems like a real sweetheart.”

  I couldn’t hide a grimace. “Too soon.”

  “I take back the Miles bit, but you’re still a pain.”

  “Good enough.” I rested my head against the lockers. It was a funny thing, thinking you had someone pegged, only to find out there was a whole different story below the surface. I looked over at Ivy. “Do you talk to her?”

  “My mom?” Ivy shook her head. “A phone call here and there. Nothing that counts.”

  “That’s the first conversation I’ve had with Miles since last May,” I said. “One chat every six months is more than enough.”

  We sat there in woeful silence. I had no idea what else to say.

  “At least we know each other’s deep, dark issues now.” Ivy laughed weakly.

  “Are you okay?” I coughed and fumbled for my words. “About your mom? Are you okay now?”

  “Are you okay about Miles?”

  Fair point. “While we’re discussing His Jerkness, what’d you use to get him to talk?” I asked Ivy.

  She pulled out a piece of paper from her pocket and showed it to me wordlessly. It was one of the photos of me, Miles, and Noah from the home office. We were dressed up in homemade superhero costumes for Halloween a few years ago. Goofy grins stretched across our faces. Any fight that was left in me seeped out as humiliation took its place. I didn’t know which was worse—that my ex-best friend was embarrassed to talk to me or that he was more embarrassed by proof we used to hang out.

  “Why do you even have that?” I moved to grab the photo from Ivy, but she stuffed it back in her pocket before I could make contact.

  “I thought I should get started building my own files,” she said.

  It was a good practice to get into. Except. “Does that mean you’re starting a file on me?”

  “Seemed like the thing to do,” Ivy said with a shrug.

  I had one on her at home, so I couldn’t really argue. In fact, I should’ve been pleased about what an effective teacher I was. Temporary junior detectives—they grow up so fast.

  “Okay,” I said. Time to get this case back on track. “Let’s get out of here.”

  She pushed her hair back from her face. “What’s next?”

  “If the blackmailer keeps to schedule,” I said, “Meredith should be getting a letter by the end of school. I think it’s time for a stakeout.”

  Ivy grinned. “My favorite.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  The bell rang, and Ivy and I snuck down the hallway to our stakeout spot. Ivy had her own ideas about how the plan should play out.

  “It’ll be fine, Howard,” she said. “Let me run this one by myself, and you’ll have more time to work on other stuff.”

  “No way,” I said. “You’ve never done a stakeout before. I’m not leaving you on your own.”

  “Uh, excuse me.” Ivy stopped in her tracks and set her hands on her hips. “I was on a stakeout three days ago.”

  “Crashing one doesn’t count. No more buts,” I said. “Either we do the stakeout together or you don’t do it at all.” I was still in charge, and letting a junior partner run a major operation like this just didn’t fly.

  Ivy scrunched her nose as she thought about it. “Fine.”

  The best spot to see Meredith’s locker was from Pete’s supply closet. Earlier, I’d promised him an extra pack of jellies so he’d leave it unlocked for us. I held open the door for Ivy, and we slipped inside.

  The closet was poorly lit and stank of industrial-strength cleaner. Ivy looked around at the mops and brooms hanging from the wall and scowled. “I can’t decide if this is a step up or a step down from the girls’ bathroom.”

  I scrubbed at a mysterious substance on the floor with my foot. “It’s a lateral move.” Kneeling down, I checked the sight line from the grate to Meredith’s locker. A bit of an angle, but it would work. The hallway was deserted since most kids didn’t stick around after school. No blackmailer was going to sneak past us.

  Ivy flipped over a garbage bin and sat down, legs splayed out in front of her. “So, exactly how much of your time would you say is spent lurking behind doors, spying on people?”

  “Paid or unpaid?” I asked.

  Her laughter trailed off when she realized it was a serious question. “Um, I guess both. Although that’s—”

  “Shh.” I waved a hand at her and held a finger to my lips. “I hear someone.”

  She jumped up and started toward the door when I stopped her with my foot. “No, stay back,” I whispered. “They’re coming this way.” I rolled to the side and flattened myself against the wall. Ivy and I held our breath as the footsteps approached

  the closet.

  The steps stopped right in front of the door, and for a moment nobody moved.

  A key rattled in the lock.

  I had seconds to come up with a plan. Whoever was coming through that door could ruin everything. Ivy was staring, waiting for me to make a move. There was nowhere to hide. I needed a reasonable explanation for why we were in the closet. Panic began to crawl up my chest.

  The key turned, and I dove at the door.

  Apparently, holding it shut was my best plan. I braced my hands against the sturdy wood, prepared for the worst, when the lock clicked into place. I may have underestimated what the worst could be. Yanking on the handle told me what I already knew. We were locked in. I dropped down and pressed my face against the grate to get a glimpse down the hall. A sharp pain tore through my leg as Ivy scrambled over me to try to get a look for herself. “Did someone just lock us in here?” she asked. “Did you see who it was?”

  “No,” I said. “Whoever it was had enough brains to stay close to the wall when they walked away.”

  “Hey,” Ivy called out. “Hey, we’re locked in here!”

  “Can it.” I poked her in the ribs. “Anyone catches us, we’ll be suspended.”

  She poked me back. Hard. “We wouldn’t be in this mess if you’d let me do the stakeout on my own.”

  “Oh, really?” I snorted.

  “Yup.” Ivy flopped against the wall. “Even if I got locked in, you’d still be on the outside to set me free.”

  “Take your twisted logic and put it to better use,” I said. “We need to figure a way out of here.”

  “You’re going to have to give me more responsibility at some point,” she grumbled.

  “Ivy, give it a rest. We’ve been partners for four days.” The longest four days of my life.

  She sat bolt upright and held up a hand. “I hear footsteps,” she said. “Maybe they’re coming back.”

  Ivy flipped over onto her stomach and joined me to peer through the grate. We heard the voices before we saw their owners.


  “It’s Bradley and Lisa,” I whispered. Maybe this stakeout wasn’t going as badly as I thought.

  “And then, worst of all,” Lisa said as they came into view, “I find out she’s not even a reporter for the blog. It was a big fat lie!”

  Bradley nodded. “She’s a pretty good actress. I’m actually glad she came out to Drama Club.”

  Ivy grinned widely at me with both thumbs up.

  “Focus, Bradley,” Lisa snapped. “They’re becoming a serious problem.”

  “I am focused.” Bradley stopped in the middle of the hallway, right in front of our door. Ivy and I held perfectly still as he pouted. “You need to relax,” he said. “There’s a plan, remember?”

  Lisa took a deep breath and let it out, closing her eyes and opening them with new resolve. “Right. Okay,” she said. “Let’s go find out what the rest of that plan is.”

  They walked down the hallway, out of sight, and we heard the door to the outside open and close.

  “We have to get out of here,” I said, leaping up from the door. “We’ve got to follow them and find out who they’re meeting.”

  Ivy scrambled up beside me and nodded, zeroing in on the task at hand. “Okay, inventory. What do we have?” She examined the shelves and piles of stuff hanging from the walls. “Broom, mop, mop bucket—” I tuned her out as I began my own furious brainstorm.

  The lock mechanism was only on the outer knob so there was no way to pick it. We could break the handle on the door, try to remove the bolts, or take out the grate. Not enough tools and not enough time for any of those plans. We needed something simple. Something we could do right now. A ladder hanging in the corner caught my eye.

  “Ivy, quick, rule number three. What’s next door to us?”

  “One of the girls’ bathrooms,” she said, a wary look on her face. “Why?”

  “I have a plan.”

  I grabbed the ladder and set it in the middle of the closet. It took up nearly the entire room but it fit. I climbed to the top and popped up a ceiling tile.

  “Up and over,” I said, grinning down at my partner. “Problem solved.”

  “Nope,” she shook her head vigorously. “Not gonna happen.”