“I think you might have a fever, Aunt Trudy,” I joked. “You know how Joe is. You make him homemade pizza for a snack today, he’ll be expecting it every day.”
I know—totally lame. But I couldn’t think of anything else. My brain was on overload trying to store Aunt Trudy and suspect in the same file. I stepped up to her and put my hand on her head. Maybe I could see over her shoulder and—
She jumped away. And something clunked to the floor.
“I got it,” Joe said.
He picked a hairbrush up from the floor. My stomach twisted. Now I could see silver initials on the back—J. C. “Those look like boar bristles,” I said, hoping Joe would understand.
I knew he did when his eyes went wide with shock.
JOE
Joe here. My eyes went wide with shock because Frank was thinking Aunt T could be Justin’s stalker! I couldn’t believe that he’d even have a second of doubt about Aunt T. She’s the most honest person I’ve ever met.
FRANK
Unlike you. You’re so lying about your reaction. You thought the same thing I did. That’s why your eyes practically fell out of your head. Now go. I’m telling this.
“Those aren’t your initials, Aunt Trudy,” I said.
She blushed. She dropped her gaze to the floor. She twisted her hands together nervously. Her body language was shouting, “I’m guilty. Guilty, guilty, guilty!”
“You boys aren’t going to believe what I’ve done,” she finally told us. “I never wanted anyone to find out.” Then she went silent.
“What?” Joe asked gently when it seemed like she wasn’t going to say any more.
“That belonged to Justin Carraway.” She pointed at the brush. “I bought it.” She threw her hands over her face. “I’m so embarrassed. I’ve behaved like a silly teenage girl, spending good money on something like that.”
“You bought it?” I burst out, relief rushing through me.
“I know, I know!” Aunt Trudy cried. “It was a ridiculous thing to do.”
“No, it wasn’t,” Joe told her.
“Lots of people collect celebrity memorabilia,” I added.
“So many people were bidding on this.” Aunt Trudy took the brush out of my hands. “Starlotta7 almost got it. But I was right there on the computer until the auction closed.”
“You bought it online?” Joe said.
Aunt Trudy nodded. The redness was starting to fade from her face.
“Is there a lot of Justin Carraway memorabilia available?” I asked.
“There’s a whole site devoted to it. That’s all they sell,” she answered.
“Show us,” Joe urged.
“Joe’s a big fan too,” I added.
“Come on, then,” Aunt T told us, sounding almost like her nonweird self. She led the way to the computer in the den, logged on, and quickly brought up a site called Justin Time.
My eyes immediately went to the words “New Justin Stuff” blinking in the upper right-hand corner. “Justin’s pendant is for sale,” Joe observed, just as I started reading the pendant’s description on the screen. Stainless steel and teak. Rubber cord. Zen symbol. Just like the one stolen from the trailer.
“I think I’ve seen him wearing that pendant in pictures,” Joe commented.
“I have,” Aunt Trudy said quickly. She’d definitely forgotten about being embarrassed. “He must have several of them. This is the third I’ve seen listed for sale—and they are guaranteed to have been worn by Justin. Everything for sale is something he’s actually used. His hair is actually still in the brush I bought.”
“Hey, I have something for you, Aunt Trudy. Be right back.” I hurried up to my room, grabbed the DVD autographed by Justin, and brought it down to her. “Joe and I and some people from school got to meet Justin because he’s filming in Bayport. He gave us all these.”
Aunt Trudy looked like Christmas and her birthday had happened on the same day. “This isn’t supposed to be in the stores for two weeks!”
“You could probably make some money selling it online,” Joe teased.
Aunt Trudy tightened her grip on the DVD. “I don’t think so.” She looked down at Justin’s picture on the DVD case. “Charisma. That’s what he has.”
“Let’s hit the homework,” I said to Joe. I really didn’t want to hear Aunt Trudy starting to talk about Justin’s charisma. I’d had way too much Aunt T weirdness already.
We started out of the den, then Joe turned back. “So I’m guessing no homemade pizza?”
Aunt Trudy laughed. “I’ll make you one tomorrow. For your dinner,” she answered.
“You think the person stealing Justin’s stuff is also his stalker?” Joe asked once we were up in my room.
“Why would you want the person whose things you’re selling for cash dead? Dead people don’t buy more stuff for you to steal,” I reasoned.
“Although I bet the prices on the stuff that is available would go waaay up if Justin bit it.” He pulled out his cell and hit a speed-dial number.
“Vijay?”
Joe nodded. “Vijay.”
Vijay Patel works for ATAC. He’s not a field agent, like Joe and me, although he wants to be one. But for now he’s our go-to guy, especially on computer stuff.
“Vij,” Joe said. “I need you to find out who is collecting the money from a site called Justin Time.”
After he hung up, he immediately made another call. This time I didn’t have a guess.
“Is this Ryan or Justin?” he asked. “You guys even sound alike.”
By the time he hung up again, he’d made plans for us to take Justin and Ryan to the Bowl-O-Rama.
“You sure Bowl-O-Rama is a good place?” I said. “The lighting isn’t exactly set up for stalker sightings.” The bowling alley’s claim to fame was a disco ball, laser lights, and old-school rock. It was pretty dark and noisy in there.
“Justin was itching to get out and have some fun,” Joe answered. “He’d already heard of Bowl-O-Rama, and that’s where he wanted to go. I told them we’d pick him, Ryan, and Rick up at the hotel in a couple of hours.”
• • •
Sydney opened the door to Justin and Ryan’s suite when we knocked. To me it looked like she was wearing a costume. She had on a skirt that looked kind of like a big bubble, a long jacket, and a pair of wrist-length blue gloves that matched her blue shoes.
Crazy, right? But it’s not like I know anything about fashion. And she was from Hollywood.
“How do you two feel about Wi-Fi and anything you want from room service?” she greeted us.
“Syd, we’re going out,” Justin called. At least I thought it was Justin. They really did sound alike.
Sydney stepped back and let us into the room. “I’m worried about Justin going out tonight. Can’t the four of you find something to do in here? Invite more people if you want. There’s boxing on pay-per-view. You guys like boxing?”
“We’re going out. She’s just worried because I got another psycho letter,” Justin explained.
Ryan appeared from his bedroom. “I think she has reason to be worried.”
“Me three,” said Rick from his seat on the sofa.
“I’ve gotten letters like that forever. What’s the big deal?” Justin asked.
“The big deal is you’ve been getting more letters, and this particular letter was creepier than usual,” Sydney answered.
“The person who wrote the letter took credit for poisoning Justin last night,” Ryan told us. “And for smashing up his car. When we got back from the hospital, his Lamborghini had a busted windshield and broken headlights.”
Ryan thrust a piece of paper at his brother. “Read it again. And this time actually think when you read it.”
Justin glanced at the letter. “It says right here that they don’t want to kill me,” he said.
“Can I see?” Joe asked.
“Sure.” Justin seemed happy to get rid of the letter. Joe held it up so I could read it too.
&
nbsp; • • •
Why haven’t you learned? Learning is a sign of intelligence. So let’s review, and see if it sinks in this time.
Your behavior is unacceptable. More than that. It’s repulsive. You’re a bad example to everyone around you. I saw you smash that reporter’s camera yesterday. The man is trying to make a living. He doesn’t have everything handed to him on a gold plate the way you do. And Emily. Can’t you see how much you hurt her? Can’t you see how much she’s changed because of what you did?
I’ve seen. And that’s why I decided to punish you. I knew that with all those people around you, someone would get you to a hospital in time to get your stomach pumped. And your car—it’s just a thing. You have so many things, Justin. More than most people even dream of having.
I’m going to keep watching you. If you aren’t able to learn from your punishments, then maybe you really shouldn’t be allowed to keep influencing others to behave the way you do.
Be careful, Justin. Learn. I don’t want to have to kill you.
“Clearly written by a nutball, am I right?” Justin asked.
“A nutball who found a way to poison you,” Rick commented. “Maybe we should just hang here.”
“We’re going. At least I am,” Justin announced.
“Okay, I get it. You’re not going to listen to me or anyone else.” Sydney let out a long sigh. “Take my SUV.” She pulled her keys out of her purse and tossed them to Justin. “Maybe it will turn out to be a good thing if you go out in public. If you behave yourself. Let the person who wrote that letter see you acting in a way that makes it seem as if you’ve ‘learned.’ That might keep you safer in the long run.”
“I’ll be a good boy, I promise.” Justin crossed his heart with one finger.
“You’d better,” Sydney told him. “Otherwise you’re going to end up a dead boy.”
Battle at the Bowl-O-Rama
Frank was right. This isn’t going to be an easy place to keep Justin safe, I thought as we walked into the Bowl-O-Rama. At least the place wasn’t too crowded. A lot of people would have made monitoring the large space even more difficult.
We did the shoe exchange thing, then headed to our assigned lane. I kept my gaze moving, making sure to pause on every face. Almost everyone was staring at Justin. But staring at a big star doesn’t make you a stalker, and I didn’t spot anything that got my Spidey sense twanging.
The latest stalker letter had, though. It felt like the person who wrote it was getting more and more angry at Justin. And they’d moved on from just the letters. They’d definitely taken things up a level by poisoning the dip and smashing the sweet Lamborghini. They’d taken more risks. And that made them more dangerous.
But at the same time, that last letter sounded like the stalker really was more interested in changing Justin’s behavior than hurting him. That moved Sydney up a little on the suspect list. It didn’t make sense for her to kill a guy who paid her. But if she could scare Justin into settling down a little, she’d probably have time to hang in her hotel room and read a book. Have a life.
The new letter had specifically mentioned Justin’s bad treatment of Elijah and Emily. That meant they should top the suspect list too.
Of course, the letter was telling Justin to do exactly what Cleen Teens wanted him to do—shape up and be a good influence on the world. That meant William and Caro had to stay at the top of the list.
Great. That made five suspects I thought should be at the top of the list. Frank and I should be able to wrap this up in no time.
Riiiight.
“You’re up, Joe,” Ryan told me.
I was distracted by the suspects battling for space in my brain and by the fact that the stalker could already be in the bowling alley with us. But I still managed to turn the pins into a nice pile of dead wood. Just the kind of guy I am.
“Nice.” Justin slapped my hand as I returned to my seat. I did another survey of the room. There were probably ten new people. Ten in the time it had taken me to knock down the pins.
“Always happens,” said Rick, noticing my surprise. “I’m sure the second we walked in here, at least one person called a friend to tell them that Justin Carraway was in the house. Somebody else probably managed to get a shot on their camera phone and sent it to everybody on their contact list. And the paparazzi pay for tips on where Justin is. I’m sure a pack of them will be here within the next five minutes.”
It didn’t even take five. In three, Elijah strode through the door. In four, two other members of the paparazzi posse had joined him.
Justin didn’t see them at first. He was dealing with a nasty seven-ten split. He took down the ten and almost put enough curve on the ball to hit the seven. But not quite. As he turned away from the lane, Ryan leaped to his feet.
“Some photographers are here,” he told Justin in a low voice. “Elijah is one of them.”
“Keep your rage button on mute,” Rick advised.
“Repeat after me: good boy or dead boy.” Ryan’s eyes were intense as he looked at his brother.
“Good boy or dead boy,” Justin muttered. Then he turned toward the photographers, grinned, and flung his arms out wide. “Who wants a picture of me in my bowling shoes?”
Multiple flashes went off in reply. “Maybe that will keep them off my back,” Justin said when he turned back toward me, Frank, and Ryan.
I did another room check—and saw Belinda coming through the door. “This might make you happy,” I told Justin. I nodded in her direction.
“Belinda, get over here!” Justin yelled. Like he’d invited her and he’d been watching the clock, waiting for her to show. The stalker thought Justin had a lot to learn. But he could also teach a thing or two about . . . I didn’t even know what to call it. What had Aunt Trudy said? Charisma. Yeah, he could give a course in that.
“Did you invite her?” asked Frank.
“No,” Justin said. “I don’t usually have to do the inviting. I go where I’m going, and then I take my pick. There are always girls around.”
“Around Justin,” Ryan clarified.
“Oh, you don’t do so bad, looking like me and all,” Justin joked.
I was suddenly glad the bowling alley was so noisy. If Justin’s stalker heard Justin talking like that, there would definitely be more badness heading in his direction.
“Hi!” Belinda cried as she joined us. I noticed she was all dressed up. I was almost sure the outfit was for Justin’s benefit.
“Hey, gorgeous!” Justin gave her a hug, lifting her off her feet and swinging her around. The cameras went off again, but Justin didn’t seem to care. “Get yourself a ball,” he said when he put her down.
“Maybe that wasn’t so smart,” Ryan said when Belinda had left to choose her bowling ball. “The letter talked about how badly you treated Emily.”
“I didn’t do anything to Emily except decide that I didn’t want her for my girlfriend,” Justin countered.
“Yeah, but you—”
“I think my brother has a little crush on my ex,” Justin interrupted.
“She’s a good person, that’s all,” said Ryan.
Huh. If Ryan had a crush on Emily, that might give him a good motive to write that last letter. It mentioned Emily by name, even though, at least according to Star Gazer, Justin had treated a lot of girls kind of badly.
Belinda returned, and we all got back to business. Frank and I watched Justin’s back while the rest of the group bowled. Not that I didn’t continue massacring the pins.
Frank wasn’t doing too shabby either. I watched him take aim at the single pin his first ball had left standing. He made his approach—
“Clean up your act, Carraway!” a girl screamed.
And Frank sent his ball right into the gutter. I jerked my head in the direction the scream had come from. The Cleen Teeners didn’t have quite as good a communication network as the paparazzi did. But it wasn’t bad. William—a smear of what I assumed was Goo Goo Cluster chocolate on
his chin—Caro, and seven other CTs had arrived, signs and banners up.
I didn’t like it. Way too many people from the suspect list were showing up.
Belinda’s turn was next. “Justin, now that we have more company, why don’t we blow this place?” Rick asked.
“Uh-uh. I have some things to see about first.” Justin winked at a smokin’ redheaded girl two lanes over. Then he walked over to her.
Belinda got a spare and launched into a cute little victory dance. Then she realized Justin wasn’t around to take it in. “Where’d Justin—” She didn’t finish her question. Didn’t have to. She saw him for herself. Adjusting the angle of red-haired girl’s bowling arm.
Flash, flash, flash.
Belinda stared for another moment, then turned and ran out of the bowling alley as fast as she could, dodging Justin fans, and paparazzi, and Cleen Teens as she went.
“I’m going over there,” Ryan said. “It’s like he’s trying to get himself offed.” He strode over to his brother.
“I think I’ll go get us some beverages and tasty snacks,” Rick told me and Frank. “Sometimes Justin is like a dog. You can distract him with food.”
“That’s not the only way he’s like a dog,” I commented.
Frank snorted. “True. Looks like Ryan’s convinced him to come back over here,” he added.
“All right. I’m back at our own lane,” Justin said when they reached us. “Happy now, Mother?”
“No, I’m not happy now,” Ryan snapped. “You’re an idiot. An idiot with a death wish.”
“You’ve just got your boxers in a bunch because I can walk over to any girl in the place and know, absolutely know, that she’ll walk away from whoever she’s with and whatever she’s doing to spend time with me,” Justin told him.
“That’s not what this is about. It’s not about girls,” said Ryan.
“Not even precious, too-good-for-me-but-not-interested-in-you Emily?” Justin shot back.
“No. It’s about you getting poisoned yesterday.” Ryan shook his head. “You were in the hospital last night. The person who’s after you—they aren’t fooling around.”
Double Trouble Page 7
