by Casey Lyall
“Toss me my bag,” I said. She hurled it up at me. I caught it and managed to stay on the ladder. This plan was coming along nicely. I set the bag on the top step and started pulling off my coat. “We don’t have a lot of options here, Ivy. I’ll go first and all you have to do is follow.”
“Because that’s gone incredibly well for me so far.”
I stuffed my coat into my bag before slinging it over my shoulder. “You can come with me, or you can wait until Pete gets back in the morning to let you out.”
Ivy gave the sleepover idea serious consideration. I didn’t have time to wait for her decision. Someone had to catch up with our perps. “All right, see ya,” I said as I climbed to the highest step on the ladder.
“I’m coming, I’m coming,” Ivy groaned.
I slid the ceiling tile off to the side and levered myself up onto a metal beam. For once, I was grateful to be small. It was cramped and dark up there, laced with cobwebs and dust.
“I cannot believe I’m doing this.” Ivy’s head poked through the hole in the ceiling, and she glowered at me on my precarious perch. “If we die, I’m gonna kill you.”
“It’s ten feet,” I said. “Stop being a baby.”
Ten feet that took us about ten years to cross. Inch by inch, Ivy and I crept along the beam. We travelled in silence, too intent on our task to both talk and keep a careful eye out for the spiders whose homes were draped across our backs.
Bright light peeked through a crack in one of the tiles below. I stopped, and Ivy’s head bumped into my butt. “Are we there yet?” she asked.
“Actually, I think we might be.” I reached down and gingerly tugged the tile out of place. Hanging onto the beam for dear life, I leaned down as far as I could to look into the bathroom. The coast was clear. Our open patch of ceiling was over the last stall. I grabbed hold of the beam and lowered myself through the opening until my feet touched the top of the partition.
That was as far as I got.
“Howard,” Ivy whispered. “Why aren’t you moving?”
“I’m trying to figure out how to get down.” All the reasons why Pops and I put the tree house at ground level came rushing back to me.
“I thought you had a plan,” Ivy said as she scrabbled forward on the beam. Squinting at me through the dim light of the ceiling, she assessed the situation. “Why don’t you let go?”
“Ivy, I’m balancing on a piece of metal that’s about two inches wide. If I let go, I’m gonna fall into the toilet.”
“I have an idea.”
“I’m all ears.”
“Give me your bag,” she said. I worked it off my shoulders and carefully passed it up to her while keeping one hand firmly gripped on the beam. Ivy lay flat with her legs wrapped around the supports. She held my bag in two hands, the straps hanging down toward me. “Hang onto this,” she said, “and lean down until you can grab the top of the stall.”
“How is that going to help?” I asked.
“If you fall, you’ve got the bag to hang on to.”
“Rule number six,” I reminded myself. It was a terrible idea, but I didn’t have anything to offer in its place. I moved my feet so they rested sideways on the cubicle wall and then looped one arm through the straps of my bag. Taking a deep breath, I very slowly and carefully began to lean down over the divider.
“Howard, we don’t have all day,” Ivy said, giving the bag a little shake.
I froze in place, resisting the urge to snarl at her in case the vibrations shook me off my ledge. “One tug on this bag and I’m taking you down with me, sister.” On a shaky breath, I reached the last few inches and placed a hand on top of the stall. Once again I was stuck, with one hand slung over my head and the other resting on a section of metal I was sure hadn’t been cleaned since it was built. This was the worst game of Twister in my life.
“Okay, Howard,” Ivy said. “Unhook your arm, and swing down to the toilet.”
I glanced up at her and back down into the cesspool I was about to use as a life raft. “I can’t wait until it’s your turn to do this,” I muttered.
I’d like to say that what happened next was a masterful display of fluid grace and cool athleticism. In reality, I did manage to unhook my arm and grab the top of the stall. At that point, I lost my balance and swung over the side, shrieking. My feet slipped and I clung to the partition while trying to find the top of the toilet with my feet. After a few desperate flails, my toes touched porcelain.
“How you doing there, buddy?” Ivy asked, her lips quivering with barely suppressed laughter.
“Piece of cake,” I said and patted the metal wall in front of me. “Especially since now it’s your turn.”
She grinned at me before tossing my bag down onto the floor. It sailed through the air, landing with a splat.
“I could have taken that.” I eyed my poor, abused bag lying half-open on its side. Even money she owed me a new apple.
“You’re too busy watching the master at work,” Ivy said.
“I thought you hated this plan,” I said.
“Now that I’ve seen you do it, I know what mistakes to avoid.” She swung herself down and balanced her feet on the wall. Keeping two hands on the beam, she carefully walked along the edge to the front of the stall. “Six years of gymnastics, finally making themselves useful.” She reached down, gripped the top of the door and vaulted onto it, riding high as it swung outward. “C’mon, Howard Wallace,” Ivy called as she leapt off the door and stumbled across the floor.
I gingerly stepped off the toilet and made my way out of the source of my future nightmares. Ivy stood proudly in the middle of the room, covered in dust and cobwebs. She burst out laughing. “Oh my gosh,” she gasped. “You should see yourself right now.”
“Come on, enough goofing around,” I said. “We can still catch Bradley and Lisa.”
“Wait, wait, wait,” Ivy said. “Howard. We just crawled through the ceiling. That’s some super-mega-professional P.I. stuff right there. Let’s take a moment to celebrate.”
She made a good point. I’d never pulled off something that impressive before, and Ivy had helped, in her own nearly-dumping-me-in-a-toilet way. A small celebration was probably in order. I held up my hand. “High fives?”
Ivy yanked up my other hand and slapped them both with her own. “Double high fives. Go team!” She smacked my hands a few more times, and we grinned at each other like idiots until—
“Uh, Ivy.”
“I’m still celebrating.”
“Okay, but—”
“Still celebrating.”
“Is that spider in your hair celebrating too?”
Ivy shrieked and started swatting at herself wildly. She heard my chuckle and shot eye-daggers at me.
“Not funny, Howard.”
“Sorry,” I said. “I’ll get it.” I scooped the spider out of Ivy’s hair and passed her a pile of paper towels. “Let’s get cleaned up and get out of here.” She let loose one last flail and then scrubbed at the cobwebs draped over her sleeve.
We burst into the hallway precisely when Mr. Vannick came through the outer doors. He spotted us and scowled. Holding the door, he gestured impatiently. “Out.”
“Yes, sir!” Ivy and I hustled through the door. I snuck a quick look behind us. Mr. Vannick was standing in the doorway, watching to make sure we left.
“Kind of weird he’s still here,” I said to Ivy.
“And that he was coming in from outside, where Lisa and Bradley were headed.”
I nodded my head and stopped to face Ivy. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking, partner?”
She cocked her head and smiled. “That our theory about Mr. Vannick being the mastermind is turning out to be more than just a theory?”
“He could’ve gotten into the office to get the key to Pete’s closet,” I said, getting more excited about the possibility.
“Exactly,” Ivy said. “And he would’ve heard from Bradley and Lisa that we were getting close.”
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br /> “He probably thought he could catch us trapped in the closet and get us suspended.” I scanned the yard. Lisa and Bradley were long gone, but Ivy and I had a new angle to work. “You know, I think we’ve almost got this case in the bag.”
I headed toward the bike racks and caught sight of Blue, once again the last, lonely bike left on the lot. She was leaning unsteadily to one side, and I had to chuckle. Blue knew how to milk a pose.
“I’m coming, Blue,” I said, smiling at Ivy. “A little waiting never hurt anyone.” Blue responded by tilting further and I squinted for a better look. Something wasn’t right. She was barely upright and had one handlebar flung over the rack. I sped up to a run. There was a screech. Blue lost the battle with gravity and crashed to the ground.
I was by her side in less than a second. Blue lay feebly on the dirty pavement, her back wheel spinning slowly from the impact. Her front end was still raised a few awkward inches off the ground, held there by the chain locked to the rack. “Hold on, girl, hold on.” I fumbled for the key and struggled to fit it into the lock. My fingers were like sausages, and the key slipped from their clumsy grasp, clattering to the ground. I reached for it and froze.
An ugly slit marred the smooth side of her front wheel. I poked a finger into it. Straight through. Clean, cold and precise. Stepping back, I examined Blue’s back wheel. Another slit, wider than the first.
I couldn’t breathe. Blue had no air left, and she’d taken mine with her. I sank to the cement, patting her blindly. Something crinkled and fluttered to the ground.
“Howard,” Ivy said quietly as she bent to pick it up. She handed me the crumpled piece of paper. Block printing. It could have been Ancient Greek for all the ability I had to understand it at that moment. I blinked my eyes and handed it back to her to read.
It was a simple line.
“CONSEQUENCES FOR ALL.”
Chapter Eighteen
It was a long and painful walk home. Blue staggered back and forth on the sidewalk. I’d have carried her but it took all my strength to keep her upright.
Ivy darted along beside us. “Howard, let me help.”
“This is my fault, Ivy,” I said. “My bike. I won’t pass her off on someone else.”
I trudged along, one foot after the other, and tried to block out the dull sound of Blue’s flat wheels on the cement. My stomach felt like it was filled with lead. I tried talking to keep her moving, repeating the same words: “It’s okay, girl. I got you. It’s okay.”
Finally, my house loomed into view. “Want me to stay?” Ivy asked. “I’ll call my Grandma, and I can stay.”
“No,” I said. “There’s nothing for you to do.”
“We’re going to figure out who did this, Howard. They won’t get away with it.” Ivy touched one of Blue’s handlebars. “Are you sure I can’t help?”
“I’m sure.” I met her gaze. “But thanks.”
I dragged Blue up the sidewalk and into the garage, setting her upside down in her parking space. Best to take the pressure off her wounded wheels. Sagging against the wall, I slid to the floor. Idiot. Stupid, stupid idiot. My fingers clenched, and my nails dug into my palms. Someone trashed my office, and how did I react? Did I carefully investigate? Keep an eye on my loved ones? I banged my fists against the floor, feeling the need to pummel something. No, I ran around needling suspects like I was Sam freaking Spade. I thought I was brilliantly forcing the perp out into the open. Putting the pressure on while they made mistakes. I screwed up, but it was Big Blue who’d paid the price. I’d ignored rule number seven: never underestimate your opponent.
Stroking Blue’s fender, I murmured apologies. It was never the private eye who got knocked down; it was always his best friend. I’d missed the boat on proceeding with caution. Time to get my act together and come up with a plan of attack.
The garage door rattled open, and its rusty squeals startled me out of my revenge fantasies. My old man pulled in, brow knit at the sight of Blue and me slumped in our corner. He got out of his car and ambled over. “Blue, Howard,” he said. “Lurking in the garage for any particular reason?”
I nodded my head to my prostrate partner. “Blue needs new tires.”
He frowned and peered at Blue. “What happened?”
“We ran over a rock.”
He took a step forward for a closer look. “A sharp, knife-shaped rock happened to pierce both of Blue’s tires. Through the sides?”
“Yes.”
He sighed and took his glasses off to rub his eyes. “Howard, what’s going on? Has your P.I. thing gotten you into something dangerous?”
“It’s nothing. It was my own fault. I wasn’t paying attention.” I boosted myself up from the floor and dusted off my bag.
He patted Blue’s frame gently. “She’s been a good old bike.”
“She still is,” I said, cutting off the eulogy. “She just needs new tires. I’ve got money saved, I can buy them myself.”
Pops nodded. “We can go on Saturday.” He turned abruptly to face me. “Howard, we haven’t been spending as much time together now that you’re back in school. I hope you know you can talk to me if you need to.”
“It was a rock, Pops.” I headed to the door. “Everything’s fine.”
Everything was a train wreck, but I wasn’t about to tell him that. What should have been a simple case had turned into a personal attack. I couldn’t let that slide. I wouldn’t. Telling my old man about it would only put him in the way of what needed to be done.
Not revenge.
Justice.
I had the whole night to plan how to solve this case and make Lisa, Bradley, and Mr. Vannick pay.
Chapter Nineteen
The next day the sun was shining and the sky was clear. I half expected bluebirds to swoop through my window to help me dress. The weather clearly had no regard for the blackness of my mood. I threw on a pair of shades and slunk down the stairs. My mother stood in the kitchen packing up her lunch for the day.
I slid onto a chair and grunted. “Coffee, black.”
She set a glass in front of me. “Orange juice. From the carton.”
Nudging my sunglasses down the bridge of my nose with a single finger, I peered at her over the frame. “Orange juice is a mood enhancer. I require all of my surliness today.”
The glass of juice was pushed closer. Its sunshiney contents sloshed around, mocking me with orange cheer. “Take it and thank me,” she said.
I lifted the glass and tipped it in her direction before taking a gulp. “Thank you, Mother.”
She leaned on the table and cupped a hand under my chin. “Try not to worry about Blue today,” she said. “You and your father will fix her up this weekend, and she’ll be good as new.”
Big Blue hadn’t been good as new since 1987, but I appreciated the sentiment and offered a weak smile.
“Need a ride to school?” she asked, ruffling my hair.
“No thanks,” I said, ducking away. A walk would help me clear my head.
I plodded down the sidewalk. Fresh waves of grief for Blue washed over me. My feet were unaccustomed to the slap of hard cement against their soles. I stopped at the bottom of Maple Street and glared at the hill stretched out before me. It was going to be a long walk.
Today was make it or break it for Meredith’s case. My plan was risky, but it was the only way to catch our blackmailer. I hoped Ivy would be on board. If she wasn’t, I was on my own. No place I hadn’t been before.
A shadow spread across my path and stopped me cold.
“Morning, Howie.” The banes of my morning commute stood an inch in front of me. Normally, I could endure Tim and Carl as a mildly amusing inconvenience. Today, I wasn’t in the mood for subpar banter and amateur strong-arming. A sidestep around Tim was met with an implacable hand on my chest.
“Please. Don’t,” I said.
“Where’s your lady cycle today?” Tim asked. He stood there, stroking his two pathetic strands of facial hair, and cold resentmen
t flared in my gut. Big Blue had received enough abuse at the hands of miscreants; I wasn’t about to allow these morons to jump on the pile. Tim rolled back on his heels, and a snarky smirk twitched his lips. “Is she home, cleaning up her rust spots? Or did you finally put her out of her misery and take her to the dump?”
Rage blazed inside me, intensifying as I thought of Bradley, Lisa, and everyone else who’d jerked around me and Blue this week.
This year.
I was sick of being smart. Sick of being a pushover. Blood pounded in my ears, and all I could see was Tim’s face, cackling at his own cut-rate jokes.
A sharp snap cracked through the air. In the silence that followed, Tim looked shocked. He raised a hand to his cheek, and Carl frowned. I stared at my own hand in disbelief.
“You’re going to regret that, Howie,” Tim said. His face went white, my red handprint vivid against his cheek. “I’m going to kill you dead!”
A number of thoughts ran though my brain in rapid succession while my insides turned cold. I was shocked I’d actually struck Tim but even more surprised that a slap turned out to be my go-to move. It was a new level of old school for me.
“I’m going to tell my father, and he’ll destroy you!” Tim was still ranting. “And then I’ll kill you again!”
“Tim.” One word from Carl had us both stopping in our tracks. “Calm down.”
“Carl, this kid attacked me, and you’re telling me to calm down?” The rest of the red was returning to Tim’s face.
I inched away, hoping to use the distraction for a quick getaway. Carl reached out and snagged my collar in one lightning-quick move.
“You’re going to tell your dad that you couldn’t deal with this little twerp?” He shook me once for emphasis. “You want that getting around school?”
Tim’s look of confusion must have mirrored my own. I couldn’t tell if Carl was getting me out of trouble or making it worse. Apparently neither could Tim.
“What are you saying? We let this aggression stand?”
“Be the bigger man,” Carl said. I was filled with sudden love for Carl. “Teach him a lesson, and let him go on his way,” he concluded.
