by Casey Lyall
I started off toward the school. “I let you help out yesterday,” I said to Miles. “I didn’t say anything about today.”
Miles shrugged into his coat against the biting wind. “Come on, Howard,” he said. “You still need me.”
I sneered at that, reaching inside my jacket to pull up the collar of my lucky coat. “I think I’ll get by.”
“We’re back on home turf, right? You’re looking at the team again.” Miles pulled ahead so he could walk backward and face me. “Half of those guys won’t talk to Carl. Most of them won’t talk to you, no matter what Coach says. I’m your in.”
Something told me I was better off testing that theory than taking Miles’s word for it.
“I could probably get them to open their lockers for you, too,” he said.
“Well, now you’re taking all the fun out of it,” I said.
Miles snickered as I rolled my eyes. “Come on,” he said. “What’s your rule thing? ‘Work with what you’ve got’?”
I shot him a sharp look and he held up his hands. “What? Is it a secret? You mutter about it all the time,” he said. “Sometimes I pay attention.”
I shoved my hands into my pockets, uncomfortable with how much Miles seemed to have picked up about our operation. He pressed on, eager to make his case.
“It’s your rule number one, right? You need to make use of every resource,” he said, warming up to the topic. “And in this case, I’m pretty much number one. Without me, you’ve got nothing.”
“Hey, Fletcher! Fletcher! Over here!”
The shouts pulled Miles out of his pitch as he looked around for the source. Two guys stood at the corner of the street. Miles’s wide smile dropped off and I stiffened as we recognized Vince and another teammate. Miles stood frozen in place; his eyes darted between me and his still shouting friends.
“ ‘I’m your in,’ ” I parroted back to Miles. “ ‘You need my help. I can get them to talk to you.’ ”
“Yeah, I know,” he said as the guys headed our way. “Gimme a sec to figure this out.”
“Hey, didn’t you hear us? I thought I was going to bust a lung yelling for you,” Vince said, ambling up to us, an easy smile on his face. My stomach did a slow slide as I remembered how easily that smile could turn into something dangerous. The image of it glinting at me had been seared into my brain since last March when he stuffed me in my locker, refusing to let me out until Pete the custodian broke up the crowd. It was the first time Miles had joined in, helping to slam the door in my face.
Good times.
I shook my brain clear of the memories and focused on the task at hand. Dealing with the team was a necessary evil, and if Miles could help speed up that process, I wasn’t going to turn him down. Waiting for my opening, I watched as Miles and the guys exchanged a complicated series of handshakes. The shorter guy shuffling along behind Vince was Devon. He never actively participated in my torment, but he liked to watch. The metal walls of a locker didn’t do much to muffle his laughter.
“What are you doing, man?” Vince punched at Miles’s side. “You don’t walk this way to school.”
“I was talking to Howard about Spartacus,” Miles said. “Seeing how the case is going.”
“Found him yet?” Devon turned to me, his smile fading. “We need him for Saturday. It’s not looking good for us. We need Sparty.”
I shook my head to clear it of the bizarre sensation of actually having a conversation with these guys. “I’m following some leads,” I said. “Since you’re here, I have some ques—”
“Hold up. What is this?” Vince’s hand shot out to grab the collar of my lucky coat, tugging it loose from the confines of my winter jacket. “Are you wearing a bathrobe?”
Vince and Devon burst out laughing while Miles shifted on his feet, focusing on the sidewalk.
“He always wears it,” Devon said. “Remember when he couldn’t get out of the locker because he had so many layers on?”
“Oh, yeah! I almost forgot about that.” Vince snorted.
Taking a breath to steady myself, I pulled a notebook out of my pocket. “Okay, enough with the yuks,” I said. “About the case—”
“Miles, this kid is so weird,” Vince said, shaking his head. “I can’t believe you guys used to hang out.”
We all turned to face Miles, waiting for a response. He kept communing with sidewalk.
“Howeird.” It was uttered so faintly I thought maybe it was a trick of the wind.
“I’m sorry, what?” Vince leaned in to Miles, rolling up onto his toes.
Miles cleared his throat. “His sister calls him Howeird,” he said, glancing over at the guys.
“Howeird?” Vince crowed. “Howeird? That is the best. I’m stealing it.”
“Shut up,” I said. “You don’t get to call me that.” I fired off a look at Miles. “None of you get to call me that.”
“You don’t get a vote, Howeird.” Vince laughed.
My hands curled into fists as I glared at the three of them. Vince and Devon cracking up. Miles looking everywhere and anywhere but at me. “In case you’ve forgotten, I’m the one doing you a favor here, trying to find Spartacus so you can pretend your lousy team has a chance this year.”
That did the trick. Their mouths snapped shut and Vince stepped forward. “Listen up, Howeird,” he said and Miles put a hand on his shoulder.
“No worries,” Miles said. “I’ve got this.” He leaned over, getting right in my face, finally looking me in the eyes. “Howard,” he said. “I think you need to cool off.” With one hand, he shoved against my chest, toppling me over into the snowbank. I landed with a thud, and the three of them were off laughing again.
“See you later, Howeird,” Vince called as they walked away.
I let my head flop back into the snowbank and huffed out a breath. I wanted to be shocked, but I wasn’t even a little bit surprised—except maybe for the level of my own idiocy.
Of course I was lying in a snowbank right now. Of course I was. I should never have let Miles get within breathing distance of me and this case. I got sucked in when I knew better. How could I think for one second that Miles was anything but a liar and a fake?
I lay there in the snow, temper cooling as the wheels started turning.
A liar.
And a fake.
And right in the middle of my investigation.
Footsteps approached, and I raised my head to see Miles hurrying down the sidewalk. Back for round two. “Sorry, Howard,” he said. “It took me a little bit to lose them so I could come back.”
“To finish the job?”
“What? No, to help you . . . ,” he said, like it made the most sense in the world, “out of here.” He gestured vaguely at where I was splayed out. “And to work the case. Like we were talking about.”
“You pushed me here.” I slapped away his outstretched hands. I might not look graceful hauling myself out of the pile, but there was no way I was accepting Miles’s assistance. “You told them Eileen’s stupid nickname,” I snapped. “In what universe is that helpful?”
Miles sputtered as I stumbled onto the sidewalk. Sodden pants and a frozen behind did nothing to quell the growing fire in my gut.
“Okay, I get it,” he said. “Sorry I pushed you, but if I didn’t do something, you would’ve gotten worse from them.”
Swatting the snow off my sides, I grunted. “I sincerely hope you’re not looking for a thank-you.”
Miles shrugged and looked away.
“Oh.” The scoff popped out before I could stop it. “Well, don’t hold your breath waiting for it.” I pushed my way past him and started toward the school. After a beat, I heard the sound of his boots falling in line beside me.
“Can we put this aside and work on the case?”
Without missing a step, I glanced over at him, a bright fleck on the shoulder of his coat catching my eye. I’d never stopped working the case. “Sure,” I said. “Let’s do that. Where were you last Tuesday
night?”
Miles laughter faded away as I whipped out my notebook from my pocket. “What are you doing?” he asked. “You already interviewed me.”
“No, I didn’t,” I said, tapping the side of my still-tender nose. “We were interrupted, remember?”
His cheeks colored faintly at the memory and he tugged at his hat. “I was at home,” he muttered.
“Can anyone verify that?” I held a pencil over the page.
Miles spotted my ready stance and rolled his eyes. “My family.”
“They were with you the whole night?”
“No, Howard. I was alone in my room doing homewo—this is ridiculous, why am I even entertaining this?”
“You wanted to help. Unless you have something to hide?”
“No. Why don’t you just ask me if I took the dumb dog and get it over with?”
“Why’d you say that?” I halted our progress by stepping in front of him.
“Say what?”
“Why’d you call Spartacus a dumb dog? Did you not get along?”
“He’s a dog. It’s not like we had a deep relationship.” Miles shuffled on the spot, trying to warm up his patch of sidewalk. “Look, everyone likes Spartacus,” he said. “He’s basically a basketball with fur, but he’s a good dog.”
“Did you take him?”
“No, Howard,” Miles said, meeting my eyes. “I did not take Spartacus. Trust me; our team could use a good-luck charm right now. Any other questions?”
Why did you laugh?
Why did you leave?
Why bother coming back?
“No,” I said, shoving my notebook back into the recesses of my coat. “We’re done.”
“Good. Okay.” Miles nodded. “So, where are we starting—”
“No, Miles,” I cut him off swiftly. “We’re done here. You’re not helping anymore. I’ve got it from here.”
His eyebrows slammed together as he processed that. “Howard, come on. You’re being ridiculous.”
“It’s nothing personal,” I said. “Strictly business. We’re running out of time. I need to streamline the process and cut some of the deadweight.”
Miles worked his jaw as he bit back a reply and stared back at me hard. “Fine,” he eventually ground out. “Be that way.” He swept past me, and I plucked the shiny fleck off his shoulder as he went by.
Now I’m the liar, I thought as I examined the short, golden strand in the sunlight. We weren’t done. I pulled out my notebook and carefully rolled up the dog hair in a piece of paper, tucking it back inside.
Not done by a long shot.
Chapter Seventeen
“What do you mean, ‘Miles is the dognapper’?”
Ivy and I had collided in a flurry of limbs at the front of the school. I’d waved away her apologies for being late. We had bigger fish to fry.
“Slow down, Howard.” My partner rubbed at her forehead with a sigh. “I’m gonna need you to fill in some blanks here.”
I quickly broke down the morning’s events with Miles, Vince, and Devon. Ivy scrunched up her face as she processed. “And who are Vince and Devon, again?”
“They’re on the team,” I said, pulling on the last of my patience.
“Okay,” she said. “There are far too many basketball players involved in this case. How big does a team need to be, anyway? There’s only one ball.”
“Ivy, focus.”
“Fine, fine, fine.” She flipped open her notebook to doodle out some notes. “So how does this end up with Miles as the dognapper?”
“The facts are these,” I said. “Miles wormed his way into the case practically from day one. Why? To get an inside track and see how much we know. Why else would he keep pushing? He’s digging, trying to stay one step ahead. He doesn’t have a solid alibi. And to top it off . . .” I pulled the notebook out of my pocket and unfolded the page of evidence to show Ivy.
“Dog hair,” I said. “Miles doesn’t have any pets.”
“Right,” Ivy said, examining the strand. “Hold your ‘ahas’ for a minute. This is not what I would call an airtight solution.”
I snatched back the book and held it tight as we headed into the school. “We’ve got sketchy behavior, plenty of opportunity, a dubious alibi, and physical evidence.”
“You can’t count the hair as evidence,” Ivy protested. “Miles could have a dog you don’t know about. It’s not like you’ve been keeping up with each other’s lives.”
I threw a scowl at her as I marched up to my locker. “I thought you’d be happy to have this case in the bag.”
Ivy leaned up against the wall of lockers and sighed. “I would be,” she said. “But I think ‘in the bag’ is a bit of a stretch. Just because Miles is a creep doesn’t mean we can keep him at the top of our suspect list. We still have other leads that need to be eliminated. We can’t go tearing off without more to go on. What about motive?” She tossed her hands up at that.
“Aha!” I said and she rolled her eyes. “I have a hunch about that. Come on.” I tossed my stuff in the locker and slammed it shut. Grabbing my partner’s hand, I tugged her down the hall. We fought against a sea of kids spilling out of the music room at the end of the corridor. When my quarry didn’t emerge, I nudged Ivy into the room.
“Oh, hi guys!” Scotty was gathering up sheets of music from the stands around the room. “You just missed practice. Band’s sounding pretty good this year, if I do say so myself.”
“That’s great,” I said, pulling the pages out of his hands and dumping them on a desk. Ivy directed him into a chair, and we huddled up in front of him. “Listen, Scotty, we need some help with this case. Mind answering a couple of questions for us?”
“Oh yeah, sure, for sure.” Scotty nodded vigorously. “Anything for Spartacus. And the team.”
“Perfect,” I said. “We appreciate it.” The first bell rang, and Ivy motioned for me to move it along.
“If Oscar ends up moving to Stoverton, who’s next in line to be captain of the team?”
Scotty reflected on that and sniffed. “Well, technically it’d be up to Coach, so he’d probably stick us with a Grantley. If we were doing things the right way, my first guess would be Carl. He’s the second-best player on the team, and he’s one of the seniors. But—”
I nodded for him to continue.
“That was before everything went bananas. I don’t know if he’s permanently off the team or not,” he said. “If I went with the best player after Carl, I’d probably have to say Miles?”
“Is that a question or a statement?” I drummed my fingers against my leg, itching for answers.
“Mmmmm.” Scotty wiped at his nose and pondered a moment more. I needed to expand my pool of sources. Find me some fast talkers. “Definitely,” he finally said. “Definitely Miles.”
“Okay, great,” I said, dragging Ivy with me backward out into the hall. “Thanks for your time, Scotty. Appreciate it.”
We ran over to Ivy’s locker so she could stash her things.
“See? Miles brings Spartacus back, he’s a big hero—boom, team captain,” I said, rocking back on my heels. “Motive.”
“Oh, hang on,” Ivy said as she peered at me from around the metal door. “You’ve got something right there.” She wiped at my chin. “Bit of smug.”
I smirked, and she rubbed harder. “Uh-oh. I think it might be permanent.”
Ducking out of her grip, I landed right back on my point. “You have to admit that this is worth looking into.”
Ivy bobbed her head as she drew in a breath. “Yeeeeessss,” she said. “It’d be so much better if it was Stoverton instead.”
“Why?”
“It’s disappointing when people live up to your lowest opinion of them,” Ivy said, closing up her locker and starting toward class, “even if you’re expecting it.”
“You should start getting used to that in our line of work,” I said.
“So, how do we go about this? What’s the plan?”
I’d been working on that since my swan dive into the snow this morning. “Stakeout.”
“Jumping right to stakeout?” Ivy shot me a look. “Bit extreme. Why don’t we start with searching his locker?”
“We’re not going to find Spartacus in his locker.” At least, I hoped not. “We need absolute proof to wrap this up, and that means finding Miles red-pawed.”
“Terrible jokes won’t cover the fact that this feels risky.” My partner poked at me with an elbow, and I started to bristle at her doubts.
“Maybe that’s because you haven’t been taking any of the risks this week?”
“Okay. Rude.”
“I’m just saying. Who’s the one who almost got caught at Stoverton?” I tugged on my collar. “Me. As in: the person who has been doing the bulk of the investigating.”
Ivy set her jaw, frowning. “I’ve been helping.”
“Yes, you were an awesome help this morning when you were not meeting me on time.”
“My phone died.” Ivy shoved at my arm. “My alarm didn’t go off, and I had to get another ride with my grandma.” She played with the ends of her hair, and I shook my head at how easily the lie fell from her lips. I wondered if she knew she had a tell. “I’m sorry I was late again. I’m having an off week.”
That was an understatement. “Tell me about it,” I said.
“Well—”
“Between Marvin, Mr. Williams, and Miles,” I ticked them off on my fingers, “we’ve been up to our ears in it.” I turned back as she fell behind. “In any case, you could have called.”
Her head shot up at that. “Did your parents give you your phone back yet?” She nodded sagely at my silence. “Exactly.”
“That’s beside the point. Anyway, I’m deeper in this mess than you, so I get to decide, and I say ‘stakeout.’ ”
“Howard.”
“Stake. Out.”
Ivy sighed. “When do you want to do this?”
“After school,” I said, already mapping out the perfect spot.
“Today?” My partner squeaked.
“No, next week,” I said. “After he’s had time to carry out his evil plan and conceal all evidence of a crime. Yes, today.” Ivy’s frown put a hitch in my plans. “Why?”
