by Casey Lyall
“Not all of us are part spider monkey,” I said, hiking myself on top of the fence. I clung on with all four limbs as I tried to gently tilt my body to the other side.
“Today, Howard.” Toby tugged on the end of my coat. The sudden pull caught me off guard and I fell the rest of the way, landing in a heap at Toby’s feet.
I glared up at him. “That was not helpful.”
“Well, it helped you make it over the fence, so I’m going to have to disagree.” He held out a hand, and I used it to haul myself up.
Ivy stayed on the other side to keep watch while Toby and I made our way to the back porch. Keeping close to the winter-wrapped foliage, we looked for signs of life in the house. Spartacus was nowhere in sight.
I tried the back door. Locked. “Think you can pick this?”
“Sure.” Toby examined the lock and then squinted over my shoulder at a faint rustling sound. “What kind of dog did you say Spartacus was?”
“Pug.”
“So, not a gigantic, angry-looking Rottweiler that sleeps in that dog kennel I thought was a shed and who is now on his way over here with a mouth full of teeth?”
“What—?” A low growl cut me off. Out of the corner of my eye, I spotted a dark brown muzzle nosing toward the pocket of my lucky coat.
“Howard!” Ivy’s head popped up over the back fence. “What’s going on?”
“Bit of a situation here,” I said through clenched teeth.
“What’s in your pocket?” Toby asked.
“Pack o’ Juicy.”
“Toss it to him,” Toby said.
“You can’t give gum to a dog,” Ivy hollered. The three of us turned to look at her, arms hanging over the side of the fence. She must have been standing on her tiptoes on the garbage can. “It’s poisonous.”
“Well, it’s give the dog the gum or let him chew on me,” I said. Ivy remained quiet while the beast continued to snuffle at my coat, a light growl humming in his throat. “Any ideas at this point are welcome.”
“I got it!” Ivy snapped her fingers and disappeared.
“Good dog,” Toby said, receiving a sidelong glare and a full growl for his efforts.
“Toby?”
“Yup?”
“Don’t talk.”
A rattling crash signaled the return of Ivy. “Okay,” she said. “I’ve got half a date bar from lunch. I’ll call Mr. Pups and you guys go over the side fence to the next yard.”
“Mr. P—you named it?”
“I’m creating a bond so he’ll listen to me. Don’t question my lifesaving methods, Howard Wallace!”
I was gonna die.
“Okay, fine. Do it.” I looked at Toby. “Wait until he’s far enough away and then book it.”
Ivy flourished the date bar over the fence. “Here, Mr. Pups! Good boy! Puppy want a snack? Yes, you do! Yes, you do-o!”
Mr. Pups, the hellhound, barked and loped over to Ivy. When he reached the far end of the yard, I shoved Toby, and we started running. Mr. Pups, sensing that all was not right, skidded to a stop in front of Ivy. His eyes darted between us and the treat. Toby reached the fence and started hauling himself up over the top. With unexpected grace, Mr. Pups leapt up and snatched the date bar out of Ivy’s hand. She shrieked, caught off guard by the sudden move, and toppled backward off the trash can.
Triumph oozing from every pore, the beast tossed the bar in the air and swallowed it in one gulp. His snarls and barks heralded my impending doom. Ropelike strips of saliva flicked through the air as he began his charge.
“Give me your hand!” Fingers flapped in front of my face, and I looked up to see Toby sitting on the fence. I grabbed hold and he pulled with all his might until I was flopped over the fence, legs flapping in the wind. “Here he comes!” Toby shouted. He threw himself into the other yard, taking me with him. The fence shuddered as Mr. Pups slammed against it, but luckily it held. I lay on the ground, waiting for my heart to find its way back into my chest.
“Thanks, man,” I said, glancing over at Toby, who was also enjoying a moment of supine recuperation.
“No problem.”
Groaning as I sat up, I shook my head. We still didn’t have what we came for. I was not going to let this case get the best of me. A small whimper came from my left.
“Was that you?” I turned to Toby.
“No,” he said, flipping onto his stomach. “You said we’re looking for a pug, right?”
I followed his gaze and spotted Spartacus standing a few feet away, watching us with his odd little bug eyes. One house over the whole time. Only took a near-mauling to find him.
Our discovery was interrupted by the slow screeching of Ivy dragging her trash can over to the next fence. Three bangs and a crash later, her head came into view. “You alive?”
“Yeah. And look who we found.”
“Oh, he’s cute. OK. Are we done with this ridiculousness?”
“Yes.” Toby got himself upright and scooped up Spartacus. “Let’s go.”
“Hang on,” I said, brushing myself off as I stood. “We should try and gather some evidence.”
“First rule of crime, Howard Wallace,” he said. “When you get your goods, get gone.”
Spartacus chose that moment to let out a wild flurry of barks. The back door of the house opened and Scotty stood there with Ashi, looking more confused than usual. “Spartacus, what’s wrong bo—Howard?”
“See?” Toby shoved Spartacus into my arms. “Consider us even now.” He sprinted to the back fence and flipped over it without a moment’s hesitation.
“’Bye, Toby,” Ivy called out from her perch. “Make good choices.”
“Howard?” Scotty stepped forward. “What are you doing?”
“My job,” I said, backing slowly away toward my partner.
Ashi held up her hands, shaking her head. “You can’t. You don’t understand.”
“I understand that this dog isn’t yours and you’re causing a lot of people some serious grief.”
“They started it,” she said. “We’re doing what needs to be done. Ivy, let us explain.”
I passed Spartacus up to Ivy. She patted him as he licked at her chin and wriggled in her arms. “Look,” she said, resting her elbow on the fence, “we know that you guys didn’t do this for kicks, and we want to hear you out.”
Scotty and Ashi took a step off the back porch, shoulders drooping in relief.
“But we have a duty to our clients,” I said. “We need to get Spartacus back to his owner.”
“No, you can’t,” Ashi cried out.
“I like you guys plenty, but you’ve been lying to us this whole time.” I adjusted my lucky coat, taking a minute to collect my thoughts. “We need to take care of our business first. Spartacus can be returned without involving you, and then we can help you out of whatever mess you’re in.”
“Howard, please wait.” Scotty’s voice went up a notch, and the back door opened again.
“Are you guys coming back in with Sparty? I need to get home soon.”
Ivy’s sharp intake of breath and my ears told me what I still needed to see with my own eyes. I looked up at the porch. Miles Fletcher, in the flesh, pulling the door shut behind him.
“Oh,” he said. “Hi.”
“Hi? Hi?” I scoffed. “We catch you in the middle of a criminal act, and you say ‘hi’?”
Miles joined Scotty and Ashi at edge of the yard. “Criminal act? Howard, come on.”
“Aiding and abetting a pugnapping, obstructing an investigation, evidence tampering.” I listed off the points. “Want me to continue?”
“No,” Miles said. “I want you to listen.”
“Yeah, he’s helping us,” Scotty said, running a hand over his miserable nose.
“He’s helping you? Ivy, I changed my mind. We’re going to hear them out now.”
“Hey,” she murmured to me. I looked back to see her tucking a shivering Spartacus inside her coat. “I think coming back later might be a better ide
a.”
“No, no, no,” I said, spinning back to Miles and his gang. “I want to hear all of the great reasons you guys have for destroying someone’s reputation and leading us on a wild goose chase.”
“Miles only got involved today,” Scotty said. “He caught me in the middle of an allergy attack and figured out that I had Spartacus. I was too tired to lie about it. His hair gets everywhere. I can’t sleep with all of this sneezing.”
The fact that Miles had put those clues together only added to the insult burning in my gut. “I’m a little confused,” I said, facing him. “You’re helping Scotty and Ashi with what, exactly?”
“Hiding Spartacus,” Ashi supplied. “Our parents were getting suspicious.”
“And this was going to be before or after you helped us find Spartacus and brought his abductors to Mr. Williams to clear your good friend Carl?”
Scotty and Ashi began to shift on their feet, shooting Miles some nervous side-eye as he stayed silent.
“Which one is it? Are you helping us or helping them? Or are they both lies?” I said, stepping nose to nose with Miles. “And you’re still just helping yourself?”
“I was trying to fix it,” he burst out. “I was trying to help you and Carl and when I found out Scotty was involved, I thought I could help him, too.”
“Stop lying.” I took a deep breath and forced myself to lower my voice. A broken laugh escaped instead. “I am sick and tired of people lying to me.”
“You’re in the wrong line of work then,” Miles muttered.
I lost the volume control battle. “You think this is the time for jokes?”
“Howard,” Ivy called from the fence. “I think we should go.”
Miles reached out and gripped my sleeve. “How do I convince you I’m not lying?”
“You let us leave,” I said, shaking my arm loose. “Let us work on cleaning up this mess. All three of you.”
“But—” Ashi shot a stricken look at Spartacus, and Scotty put a hand on her shoulder.
“Let him go, Ashi. Howard can make it right.”
I spun on my heel and strode toward the fence. Ivy hopped off the can, making room for me as I flopped over. We walked down the alley, and no one made a move to follow. I couldn’t get the three faces out of my mind. Ashi, blinking with fear, Scotty, full of trust, and Miles, resigned to his fate. This case had gotten three times messier in the span of one break-in.
“Howard . . .” Ivy began, and I shook my head.
“Not now,” I said. “We deal with it at the office.”
Ivy nodded as our feet slid down icy sidewalks. Spartacus sighed from his spot inside her coat. We’d found our man—well, dog. But somehow, it didn’t feel like a victory.
Chapter Twenty-Three
We arrived back at the garage office and hustled Spartacus inside. Free from Ivy’s arms, he immediately started nosing around. His wet snuffling filled the silence.
“How are you going to explain this to your folks?” Ivy leaned up against the desk.
“Spartacus?” I watched as he drooled enthusiastically on Blue’s rear tire. She managed to stay calm, but I could tell her composure was slipping. “I’ll tell them we found him on our walk,” I said, scooping up Spartacus and plopping him on the comfy, stinky chair. “They don’t need all the details—just that we found him and we’re returning him to the coach tomorrow.”
“Then what? What’s the plan here, Howard?”
“What it’s always been. We get Spartacus back to Mr. Williams, clear Carl, and get ourselves free of this whole mess.”
“How exactly does that clear Carl?” Ivy propelled away from the desk, sliding it a few inches with the force of her movement.
“The only evidence Mr. Williams has against Carl is a lack of Spartacus.” I poked my desk back into place. “He can’t accuse him of dognapping when the dog’s right in front
of him.”
“He’s going to want to know what happened, Howard. He thinks Carl’s involved. We can’t just say ‘here’s your dog’ and call it a day.”
“Why not?” It was the most appealing of all our options, as traveling back in time and not taking the case in the first place wasn’t in the cards.
Ivy leveled a look at me. “I seriously have to spell this out for you? He can still keep Carl off the team for losing Spartacus. We have to prove it was done deliberately by some-
one else.”
Irritation burned in my gut even though I knew Ivy was right—one snag on the heels of a hundred others. Frustration bloomed as my patience hit its breaking point, and I sank into the desk chair, rubbing at my forehead. Our options were limited. Clients had to come first. “So we give him Ashi and Scotty,” I finally said.
“Howard!” Ivy’s mouth fell open and Spartacus growled softly.
“What? You said we have to expose who’s responsible. Well, we know who did it—the people who’ve been lying to us all week. Lying and sending us on wild-goose chases. Are you saying we should protect them over Carl?”
“I don’t even know what to say to that.” My partner paced in front of the desk. “Okay, yes I do. Two things. First of all, they’re our friends.”
I raised an eyebrow, and Ivy fluttered a hand in the air. “They’re people we’re friendly with,” she said. “More importantly, they’re two of the least criminally minded individuals we know. How are your detective senses not tingling? They stole a dog and covered it up. Don’t you want to know why?”
“Obviously, we don’t know them as well as we thought we did,” I said. “And of course, I want to know why. It’s been hounding me all the way home. But I wasn’t about to turn around and—”
Ivy’s face softened as she realized where the end of that sentence was going. I wasn’t about to turn around after that blowup with Miles.
Miles, who kept popping up in every corner of this case. Ruining the one space that was mine.
“Maybe you should talk to him,” Ivy said softly.
“That’s the last thing I need,” I said, pulling a pad of paper out of the top drawer. “He shouldn’t have been involved in the first place. Miles is out of the equation.”
“Howard . . .” Ivy’s laugh held a bitter edge. “Miles is the equation. You’ve been trying to rush this case along since you saw him in Carl’s driveway. Now you’re cutting corners so you don’t have to deal with him anymore.” She put a hand over the papers on the desk, forcing me to look up at her. “But case or no case, you’re always going to have to deal with him. Why are you punishing Scotty and Ashi for that?”
“They stole a dog, Ivy. Punishment kind of comes with that package.”
She shook her head. “You’re not listening to me.”
“I’m listening just fine,” I said. “Yeah, I’m mad at Miles. And Scotty. And Ashi. I don’t like it when people lie and betray me. It’s a flaw, I know.”
Ivy pointed a finger in my direction. “Don’t get snippy,” she said.
“Hard not to when you’re accusing me of cutting corners.” I hauled myself out of the chair and yanked Carl’s file out of the cabinet. “Which is pretty rich coming from someone who’s missed half the case,” I said, slamming the drawer shut. “Are you only interested when it’s convenient for you?”
“That’s not fair,” Ivy drew in a shaky breath. “You don’t know—”
“I know we have one day until the Grudge Game,” I cut her off. “We don’t have the time to mess around.”
Spartacus whined, and Ivy dropped down beside him to stroke his head. “I didn’t think a thorough investigation was ‘messing around.’ ”
“I’m not talking about this with you anymore.” I grabbed my hat off the desk and shoved it onto my head. “Helping Ashi and Scotty is not our job. Our job is done. I’m in charge, and I say—”
Ivy jerked back. “You’re in charge?” She narrowed her eyes at me. “What—am I only your partner if I agree with you?”
“No. No. That’s not what I meant.” I scru
bbed a hand over my face, realizing what I’d said. This conversation had gone completely off the rails. “It’s been a really long day, and I think we need a break. I’m going to go get Spartacus some water and I’ll get us some snacks.”
I walked out of the garage and into the house. Searching through the kitchen cupboards for a suitable bowl, I let out a frustrated breath. It wasn’t as if Ivy and I had never fought. We argued all the time. But this felt different. The crack was running deep, and I didn’t know how to fix it. I randomly picked up a bowl and stuck it under the faucet. I knew I should go apologize for yelling. I could do that. Apologize and get things back on track. Easy.
Heading out to the garage, water-filled bowl in hand, I tucked a bag of pretzels under my other arm. “Look, Ivy—” I froze in the doorway, taking in the empty room.
Ivy was gone.
And she’d taken Spartacus with her.
Chapter Twenty-Four
My own partner had just pooched our case. I ran out to the driveway, water sloshing over the sides of the bowl. “Ivy!” The streetlights were popping on one by one, illuminating a distinct lack of Ivy in the area. She and Spartacus must have been hoofing it to make it off our street so quickly. “Ivy!” Ineffective as it was, yelling provided slight relief to my predicament.
I hurled the water out onto the lawn on my way back into the garage. We never should have taken this case. It’d started out hinky and gone downhill from there. Now, with Ivy gone rogue, taking Spartacus with her, I was left with nothing to offer Carl and Marvin but a shoddy excuse for poor workmanship.
Cursing, I slammed a hand down on the desk. Blue creaked in her corner, and I sighed. “Language, yourself,” I said. Ignoring the baleful stare of her headlight, I sunk into my chair. Serious thinking was required.
First step was to get Spartacus back. Again.
No.
First step was to ask my partner what on earth she was thinking. Then get Spartacus back. Then get him to the coach. Then clear Carl’s name and be rid of this case.
A folded piece of paper on the desk caught my eye. I flipped it open to find Ivy’s fierce print scrawled across the page.
This is the right thing to do. Trust me.
