I silently told her to sit straight and stick her ears up. Be strong! But she couldn’t feel what I was thinking the way Cassie could. And The Chief I used to report to had been gobbled up by guilt. And fear. And sadness. Grrrr. Guilt and fear were the enemy. I took a final lick and went to stand by The Mom. Never thought I’d say it, but The Chief needed backup. Big-time.
I propped my history text up on my desk and slouched in my seat. I was in the back row but still needed to be as incognito as possible. I wasn’t paying attention at all, at least not to Ms. Diamond’s lecture on the Mayas. I had my own history to deal with — family history — and it was traumatic.
The note I’d found the night before and the pages I’d copied from Mom’s file sat on the desk in front of me. The note, in particular, was freaking me out. Just the handwriting was creepy — it felt like reading a letter from a ghost. I didn’t totally get the meaning of what Uncle Mark had written, either. But then I wasn’t sure I wanted to.
D —
I’m not waiting — the paperwork will take too long. They know we’re onto them and we don’t have much time, so I’m doing this on my own. Without a paper trail they won’t be able to blame you. Please don’t be mad — what I find will break this thing wide open. I’ve been connecting the dots. It’s all there. The corruption, participation, everything. But I have to act now. I’m writing this note in case I get into trouble, but Dodge has my back. I’ll be fine. So, now you know what I’m up to, and soon I’ll know exactly what we’re up against.
— M
The initials and the handwriting and the mention of Dodge made it clear — it was a note from Uncle Mark to Mom. He was telling her that he wasn’t going to wait to do something, something that required paperwork. … Was he talking about a search warrant? Was he doing something illegal? That would explain why the note fell out of the “unofficial” file. What had Uncle Mark and Mom gotten themselves into?
Feeling miserable, I glanced up at Ms. Diamond’s scrawl on the board, then down at the next sheet of paper from Mom’s file. It was a copy of a newspaper article about The Corps.
The Bellport Police Department continues its investigation of The Corps, an association it believes may be responsible for a significant percentage of Bellport crime, including drug dealing, gambling, extortion, and money laundering. “I believe that if The Corps is involved in illegal activities, it needs to be brought to justice,” stated Mayor Morris Baudry.
But others in the community are not convinced of The Corps’s involvement in crime. Well-known local businessman William Kemper touted the long-standing philanthropy of the group. “The Corps has done more for Bellport than any other organization,” he stated. “It is never wise to bite the hand that feeds you.”
I stared at the page, the name William Kemper ringing a bell in my head. I looked over a few of the copies I’d made from Mom’s police file and found him. William Kemper, GreenWay executive. He was the guy at the ribbon-cutting ceremony with the mayor. And somebody, maybe Uncle Mark, had pointed out that Slatterly was in that photo, too.
Mom and Uncle Mark had obviously been gathering evidence to indict members of The Corps. But was GreenWay connected somehow?
I leaned over the papers on my desk and rubbed my temples. Trying to sort all this out made my head hurt.
I was still staring down at my notebook when the bell rang for lunch. My stomach in knots, I got to my feet, wishing I could sit there and think for another hour. For one thing, the pieces of the puzzle hadn’t clicked in to place. For another, I wasn’t looking forward to seeing Hayley.
Oh boy. Hayley. We hadn’t talked since the Dumpster incident … two whole days. Under normal circumstances that would have been about six phone calls, twenty-two texts, and who knows how many face-to-face conversations. I sighed miserably. Nothing about my life was normal right now. Not even my relationship with my best human friend.
I got to my feet and shoved the papers in my backpack. Maybe I could skip lunch. Or eat in the bathroom. It couldn’t be that hard to avoid one person, could it?
I was keeping my eyes peeled in the hall when Alicia pounced. “You have to talk,” she announced, pulling me into a corner where Hayley was standing, staring nervously at her shoes. “You are my only friends at this school. Heck, you are my only friends in this country. On this continent! So whatever is going on between you? You need to work it out.”
I couldn’t help but admire Alicia’s directness. Plus, she was right. It was totally stupid not to talk to Hayley … about anything. Only I wasn’t prepared to talk to her. I didn’t even know what to say. Then I remembered that this was Hayley Gault, champion talker. She’d probably do enough talking for both of us. Which was good, because I was too freaked out about this stuff with Uncle Mark to form a coherent thought.
I looked up at Hayley’s dark eyes and saw the worry right away. Her forehead was all bunched up. “I know it’s weird,” she started.
I waited.
“The thing with Taylor.”
I waited a little more.
“I mean, that I think he’s cute and everything.” Her eyebrows dropped. “But why didn’t you tell me how adorable he is?”
“Adorable?” My mouth dropped open. “Hayley, he’s not a puppy!”
“I know. But —”
“And he’s way too old for you! He’s the same age as Owen!”
Hayley bit her lip nervously. “I know that, of course,” she admitted. “But . . .” A dreamy, spaced-out look overtook her face, and I rolled my eyes. She was going totally bonkers about too-old-for-her Taylor all over again, and he wasn’t even in the building!
The door closed behind the mayor, and The Mom let out a big sigh. A tired sigh. A Beta sigh. “Woof!” I told her. Head up! Tail up! But she didn’t seem to get the message. She just gave me an absentminded pat and walked into the kitchen. I followed. Good stuff happened in the kitchen.
I was still behind the counter when I heard the fridge door open. Click, click, click, click. I trotted across the tile floor and sat down, looking very patient. And hungry. But not beggy. The Mom did not go for beggy. Or whiny. Ever.
She didn’t seem to notice me not begging. But I was patient. I watched as she pulled a bunch of stuff out of the fridge. More than sandwich makings. Way more. “This needs a good cleaning,” she mumbled as she unearthed a stack of Tupperware. Some of it smelled like last night’s shepherd’s pie. Not her best work, but I wasn’t a picky eater. I was just an eater.
The Mom kept pulling things out of the fridge. My nose quivered. My mouth watered. I forced my butt to stay still on the floor. Within minutes the counters were covered. Plastic containers, jars, bottles, and bags. And the food inside them! I might have whined. Just a little. Luckily, The Mom didn’t hear it. And I admit I drooled. More than a little. Cleaning out the fridge was way better than organizing closets! And we were getting to the good part.
“Hungry, Dodge?” The Mom finally asked as she opened the lid on a container of old rice and beans. Too old for humans, but not too old for a dog! She scooped them into my bowl and I lapped them up. Lunchtime!
While I ate, she tossed out a bunch of old condiments. I didn’t really care about condiments. They were fine on sandwiches and burgers but nothing amazing on their own. Nothing to bark about. Except maybe mayo. Mayo was special. Then I saw it. The mother lode. A hefty block of stinky cheese. Cheese! I loved cheese! Cheese was my favorite.
“I think this is for you, too,” The Mom said. She dropped it into my dish. Delicious! I licked the outside. I sank my teeth in. I chewed. So smelly. So creamy. So good! Slow down! I told myself. Savor it! Those were Cassie’s words. But I could not eat slow. Not cheese. Not ever. Before I knew it, the chunk was gone.
I was licking the bits off my whiskers when The Cat strolled in. Ha! She was too late. All that was left were slimy vegetables and spoiled milk. I licked my chops, extra slow, so The Cat wouldn’t miss it. The only thing better than a midday meal was getting to rub it
in.
The Cat stalked out. I licked my bowl clean, again. Then I sat down and watched The Mom, who was busy. Busy cleaning up the mess from cleaning out the fridge.
When all the food containers were washed or tossed, The Mom wiped down the counters. Three times. No stray crumbs allowed. Then she wrung out the dishrag. She folded it. She draped it over the faucet so the sides lined up perfectly. I just stared.
“Well, that’s done,” she said. “Now we can get back to work upstairs.” The cheese began to rumble in my stomach. I wanted to have a postlunch snooze on the couch, to digest while I waited for Cassie. But I was a trained dog. I put duty first. And I knew that looking after The Mom was my top priority. Where she went, I went.
Upstairs, The Mom marched straight into her room and tossed the book that made her cry into the garbage can. “Enough is enough,” she told me. I didn’t exactly understand what she meant. Enough what? But I did know the book was important. Maybe full of clues! I had to get it out of the trash. When nobody was looking.
I sat down at the foot of the bed. I put on my innocent face. I kept my eyes locked on the garbage can while The Mom sorted books on a shelf. Finally she left the room with a boxful. As she disappeared down the stairs, I slunk up to the can. I put a paw on the rim and tipped it. Crouching low, I stuck my nose in. Earwax. Candy. Phlegm. I nosed past the tissues and wrappers and grabbed the book with my teeth. Not too firmly — only enough to hang on to it and not leave marks. Just the right bite.
Getting out was trickier. When I backed up, the trash can came with me. Uh-oh. I was stuck! I stood up on all fours and shook my head. I wasn’t just stuck. I was really stuck. And I couldn’t see a thing!
I backed up and hit a wall. So much for stealth. I threw my head from side to side, hard. Again. And again. And again. Thwack! The wastebasket flew off and hit The Dad’s dresser. Scraps of paper and tissue flew everywhere. The diary slid under the bed. Oh, woof.
I was surveying the damage when The Cat strolled into the bedroom, looking around. Smug. I ignored her and got to work. I nosed the trash can upright. I gathered some tissues and papers and put them back in the can. The tissues were tricky — they stuck to my mouth. I was trying to shake them off when I heard The Mom coming up the stairs. I moved fast, but The Mom moved faster. When she walked in, I still had a tissue in my mouth. I had no choice. I sat down at the foot of the bed and swallowed the dry wad. It wasn’t half as good as the block of cheese.
From the windowsill, The Cat rumbled. She was laughing. I swallowed some more, trying to get the dry bits down my throat. I put my head on my paws and looked at the book under the bed. My shoulders slumped with disappointment. My work here was unfinished.
“So. Study session at my house?” Hayley asked as we pushed out the Harbor Middle doors. “I’ve got some killer red velvet cupcakes. And I promise I won’t say a word about what’s-his-name.” Her eyes were bright, and I could tell she wasn’t teasing or trying to upset me. And just thinking about her red velvets made my mouth water.
“Cream cheese frosting?”
Hayley squinted, totally offended. “Cream cheese? No way. That’d be totally pedestrian. Crème fraîche.”
Mmm, crème fraîche. Now my mouth was really watering. “I’d love to, but I can’t. I’ve got to get home and spring Dodge. Mom’s been driving all of us nuts with her cleaning, and she doesn’t let him get away with anything.”
“Harsh,” Hayley said, nodding. She’d seen Mom in action plenty of times, so she understood. But she had a weird, hesitant look on her face, too. “Can I, um, come over?” she ventured.
I immediately spotted an opportunity and donned a serious expression. “For three red velvets with extra —”
Hayley held out her hand, cutting me off. “Deal. I can make the delivery tomorrow.”
I grinned, letting her know I’d have let her come even without the red velvets. Boy crazy or not, she was still the best thing on two legs.
It didn’t take us long to get home on our bikes, and Dodge met us as we walked in. Dodge always met me at the door, but this time he looked like he had something to tell me. Something more than “I’m sooooo happy to see you.” He also barely acknowledged Hayley, which was strange. Dodge loved Hayley and practically frisked her for treats whenever he saw her.
“Do you think he’s mad that I didn’t bring him anything?” she asked, looking worried.
I shook my head and crouched down, trying to read his face. “What’s up, Dodge? Want to go out?” He let out a yowl, hopping a little on all fours. That sounded like a yes. Who wouldn’t want to stretch their legs after being cooped up all day? I opened the door, but he just stood there. Then he barked and stepped back. Dodge didn’t want to go outside.
“Okaaay.” I closed the door, confused.
“Weird,” Hayley pronounced.
“Totally.” I watched my dog walk toward the stairs and stop at the bottom, a clear signal to follow. Well, all right. “Come on,” I said to Hayley. I expected Dodge to go straight to our room, but he plopped himself down by my parents’ door instead.
“Weirder,” Hayley mumbled.
“Totally.”
We were standing there staring at Dodge when Mom peeked her head out of the hall linen closet. “Oh, hi, honey. Hi, Hayley,” she greeted us, her voice muffled behind the giant pile of sheets she was carrying. I spotted an ancient Barbie Princess set and was glad she was finally getting rid of them.
“You need some help, Mrs. Sullivan?” Hayley offered, stepping forward before I could stop her.
“That would be terrific,” Mom replied. “Did you hear that, Cassie? Your friend Hayley offered to help.”
I made a face while Hayley unloaded half the pile from Mom’s arms and followed her down the stairs. Great, I thought. Not only was Hayley gaga for Taylor, she’d decided to become my mom’s helper, too. Next thing I knew she’d be doing makeovers with Sam.
But I didn’t have long to ponder the horrors of that, because as soon as they were gone, Dodge dashed into my parents’ bedroom and stuck his snout under their bed. Dropping his belly to the ground, he wriggled forward, grunting softly.
“What are you after?” I asked, getting on my knees and lifting the bed skirt. I saw it right away — a book of some kind that Dodge couldn’t reach. I quickly shimmied under the bed and grabbed it, emerging just as Mom and Hayley came up the stairs. By the time I was back on my feet, Dodge was practically standing on top of me, blocking the book from view. It didn’t take a detective to get the message. The book was contraband.
“We’re gonna do homework in my room,” I told Mom, hiding the smuggled goods behind my back. Dodge covered me as I exited awkwardly, ignoring the look Hayley shot in my direction. I beelined it to my room and closed the door.
“Did I just witness a covert operation?” Hayley asked, unable to keep the excitement out of her voice.
“I think so,” I replied with a laugh. “You may even have aided and abetted.” I pulled the book from behind my back, and the laugh died in my throat. I was holding Mom’s diary. I stared for a second before cracking it open and seeing that the first entry was dated September 24. Over a year ago — three days after Uncle Mark was killed.
“Oh my goodness,” I gasped, snapping the book closed and sitting down on my bed. I was afraid to read. To look. I felt guilty for even considering it! And at the same time, I knew I probably held the answer to Mom’s suspension mystery and Uncle Mark’s death in my hands. Or at least part of it.
“What is it?” Hayley asked.
“My mom’s diary,” I added in a hoarse whisper.
Dodge whimpered and came over to rest his head on my lap. I patted him. He’d done a good job. This was key info. But . . .
Hayley got it. She walked over and took the diary out of my hands, eyeing it like the stolen property it was.
I felt sick. “I can’t read it.” Respect for privacy was a theme in our house of five. Reading Mom’s diary crossed a line for sure, not to m
ention how reading it would feel.
“You don’t have to,” Hayley assured me. She exhaled slowly. “I will. That way if your mom asks if you read her diary, you can honestly say no.”
I squinted at her, confused.
“I’ll just happen to read out loud, and you can just happen to hear it.” She smiled slyly, and I felt my head nod. It was sneaky. It was bold. And I was all in.
Hayley opened the book to the first entry and took a deep breath. “‘I almost wish it had been me,’” she read quietly, her voice filling the room. “‘That I had been the one who died. If it weren’t for Joe and the kids, I couldn’t live with Mark’s pointless death at all….’” She trailed off and looked up at me, her eyes full of worry. “Are we sure we want to do this?”
I wasn’t the slightest bit sure. But I knew that I had to do whatever I could to help my family, because we were in crisis all over again. We were falling apart. I nodded my head.
“‘I said so many terrible things to him,’” Hayley continued, “‘so many things I regret. I was fixated on the fact that he was breaking protocol. I was furious he didn’t tell me to my face. I was mad he wrote it all in a note. But who could blame him? He knew how I’d react. The raid was supposed to go off with a full team, and Mark went in alone of his own accord. It was so dangerous. I was so angry. But he did it to protect me. For Joe and the kids. I didn’t want to admit that I might need protecting, but I did. Only I also needed to protect him. All I can do now is protect his memory, his reputation. I can change history — make it look like he was following my orders. If only it would bring him back.’”
Dead Man's Best Friend Page 7
