The Case of the Bad Twin

by Shannon Greenland

  “Probably.” She climbs off, flicking down her black mini, and sets the helmet on the seat.

  “Does your dad know you’re on a moped?”

  She smiles. “He’s cool as long as I stay on the island. It’s not like Officer Crawl’s going to stop me.”

  True. Officer Crawl is probably somewhere taking a nap right now. I wonder if Aunt Grace would let me have a moped. Probably not. Mom would. She wouldn’t care. I can hear her now. Just don’t get caught.

  A quick rub behind the ears for Clover, and Diamond eyes the red brick building. “Which one’s his?”

  “Bottom right.”

  “Anybody home?”

  I shrug. “Dunno but I want you to do all the questioning. I want to know if you get a guilty or innocent vibe off of him.”

  She starts across the dried grass. “Let’s do this.”

  Slinging Grandpa’s bag over my shoulder, I hurry after her, excited to see her in action. It’s too bad Mama Garcia is working. I’d love to see Diamond go up against her, too.

  Diamond raps on the door a few hard times, and we’re greeted with silence. She raps again and again silence. “Okay, guess no one’s home.” She nods to the locked door. “Let’s see what you got.”

  My eyes pop wide. “What? No. We can’t go in there. That’s illegal.”

  “We’re private investigators. We don’t follow the law.” She nods to the door. “Let’s do this.”

  I’m not sure if she’s right about private investigators not following the law. “But what if Rocco’s in there taking a nap or something?”

  She flicks my messenger bag. “Then we take him down.”

  “Um.” I glance nervously at the door, straightening my neck scarf.

  “Oh, come one, if anyone needs to break the law it’s you.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” Plus, didn’t she just say private investigators don’t follow the law?

  “Nothing, it’s just I’ve lived here a month, and if there’s one thing I’ve heard about you, it’s that you’re kind of a goodie-goodie. I think you need to loosen up. Get a little crazy.”

  For a few seconds, I just stare at Diamond, and I’m not sure if I’m happy kids have said that, or if I’m offended they talk about me. If they knew what I was doing prior to moving here they wouldn’t say those things, that’s for sure. It’s just, I have goals, and they don’t include breaking into a house.

  Diamond nods to the door. “We’re just going to look around. It’s not like we’re going to steal anything.”

  I guess she has a point. Anyway, what if the time capsule is sitting right there under his bed? This whole thing could be over within a matter of minutes. “Okay, but if we get caught, I’m totally blaming you.”

  She laughs. “Fair enough.”

  “Let’s just use the key.” Squatting down I retrieve the one I saw that boy get two days ago, and I hand it to Diamond.

  Taking it, she grins. “See, you are cut out for this after all.” She fits the key in and leads the way, but as I follow behind her, I can’t help thinking I’m turning into my mom.

  All the blinds are drawn, casting the living room in a field of shadowy sunlight that flickers in from the outside. Clover trots in past me, gives a muffled woof, like she’s trying to be a dog, and then starts sniffing around.

  With a square coffee table, one striped couch, a matching love seat, and one average-sized TV, the place is clean but sparsely decorated. It smells like breakfast, like bacon. I can easily imagine Rocco right there on the couch, laying down, flipping TV channels. Or over there at the tiny two-seater kitchen table, eating with Mama Garcia.

  “This way,” Diamond says, leading across the beige and white speckled carpet and opening a door. From the queen-sized bed with a pink and white blanket, Diamond must assume it’s Mama Garcia’s room because she closes the door back.

  I open the one next to it to find a simple bathroom with a tub, a toilet, and a sink with everything done aquatic-themed.

  Diamond opens the remaining door, and we step into the junkyard that is Rocco’s room. With clothes piled everywhere, toy cars crashed together, a battery-powered drone taken apart, superhero figurines, Legos in half-built shapes, and various other things, I kind of want to hang out and play. But we’re here for other things.

  Diamond wastes no time as she opens the closet and begins sifting through his things. My eyes trace across all the posters hanging on his walls, all of surfers. I know his parents travel, surfing, and I move in closer to see. There’s one of a dark-haired man, squatted down, balanced on a board as he zooms through a barrel. In the bottom right corner is scrawled: Playa Dominical, wish you were here, son!

  An unexpected wave of sorrow moves through me. I wonder how often Rocco gets to see his parents.

  Diamond snaps her fingers. “Hey, get busy.”

  “Okay, okay.” Dropping down to my knees, I push toys out of the way and lift his brown comforter to look under his twin bed. I find multiple pairs of sneakers, a collection of water guns, and what looks like dozens of pieces to board games.

  I do not see the backpack he had or anything else that might contain the capsule.

  Diamond moves onto his dresser, opening drawers and rifling through. A pair of boy’s underwear catches my attention and I feel my face heat.

  “Nothing.” She closes the last drawer. “Plant a listening device and let’s get out of here.”

  I open my messenger bag, feeling my spirits lift. My very first plant. “Where should I put it?”

  Diamond points to the blue tower lamp in the corner. I peel the backing off of it, scan the code with my phone, and put it inside the plastic shell of the lamp. We lock up his apartment and are back at the curb in a matter of minutes.

  My first B and E. I wonder if my mom would be proud. I know Aunt Grace wouldn’t.

  Diamond eases the black helmet onto her head and swings her leg over the moped. “Let’s finish checking everywhere for Rocco and Ean. Then we’ll regroup.”

  Exactly what I was thinking. “You cover the east side of the island—the surf spots, the skate park—and I’ll cover campus where they sometimes shoot hoops. After that, I’ll head to the ferry where Ean’s mom works.”

  With a nod, she slides on a pair of shades and checks her phone. “Text you in a bit.” Then she cranks the moped and buzzes off like Bat-Girl and she just got a signal.

  With a resigned sigh, I turn to Lolli to find the back tire completely flat. Like so flat I can’t even ride it. It doesn’t matter, I don’t have any more quarters for air anyway. I pull out my phone to text Diamond to come back and my gaze falls on a bike rack off to the side.

  A bike rack with Rocco’s silver BMX that he rides to school. It makes me think of the electric step scooter he’s been tooling around on. It’s not like he needs this BMX, he has real wheels now.

  The lock picks sitting inside my messenger bag calls to me, and I glance down at Clover. “There’s no harm in me just seeing if I can pick his lock, right? I do need practice.” She cocks her head, blinks her dark eyes, and I take that as a yes.

  Tightening my ponytail, I go to work, and a few seconds later I’ve picked the lock. I take a picture to show Diamond. She’ll be so proud. I slide Rocco’s bike from the rack and sling my leg over just to see what it sits like. It’s nice for a boy’s bike. It doesn’t seem fair Rocco should have this bike and a scooter when I have Lolli and her flat tire.

  Probably now that I’m sitting on it, I should ride it around and see what it feels like. Poor bike, Rocco probably ignores it now that he has that fancy step scooter. Well, and as long as I’m riding it around, I should see if my basket fits on the front. You know, out of curiosity. I should also probably adjust the seat to make sure I get the full effect.

  I do just that, putting Clover in her padded basket to see what she thinks. Oh, and look at that, it has gears, too. It’s not one speed like Lolli. Wow, I can really get around Piper Island on this thing.

&nbs
p; Now that I’ve ridden it around the parking lot a time or two, let me do an extended trip, a block or two to get the real and honest effect.

  Oh, who am I kidding? Am I really contemplating stealing Rocco’s bike? First B and E and now stealing. No, not stealing, borrowing. I’m borrowing his bike. If private investigators are allowed to break into apartments, they should be allowed to borrow things in the case of an emergency.

  My emergency being a flat tire.

  Maybe when my mom gets out of jail, she should become a private investigator, too, so she’s allowed to do things and not get into trouble.

  Tell you what, I’ll leave Lolli as collateral, locked up where Rocco’s bike should be. I think a good private investigator must be able to seize the moment. They must be able to think on their feet. To adapt. To be creative. To be flexible. I imagine cons have to do the same thing.

  I take a slow breath, talking myself in and out of “borrowing” Rocco’s bike, and finally agreeing with Clover to seize the moment. I peddle off, clicking the bike into a low gear. Sweet.

  Before I head off to check campus and the basketball court, I decide to ride by the house I saw Rocco a couple of days ago coming out of with the backpack. I cruise by once, don’t see anything, cruise by a second time, still don’t see anything, try a third time and the front door opens.

  The sudden appearance of Mama Garcia almost makes me run up on the curb and crash into the yard full of rocks. Where the heck did she come from? I thought she was working at the convenient store.

  She spots me like I have a homing device, and I try to wheel away like I don’t see her, but she yells, “Is that Rocco’s bike?”

  I brake to a stop and my brain ping-pongs between the truth and about a million different lies. “Um, yeah. He said I could borrow it.” Oh, no, I hope I don’t get him in trouble over this.

  Even though she’s yards away, her light eyes narrow in on me. “I find that hard to believe.”

  “Who lives here?” I decide to change the subject.

  “My sister. Why?”

  I shrug. “Just curious.” I look at her dark blue uniform shirt with A1A CONVENIENT printed across her right chest. “I thought you were working today.”

  “I just got off.” She folds her arms. “How would you know that?”

  I smile. “Rocco must have mentioned it.”

  Those eyes get even narrower, and I know I’m done fibbing. Heck, she knows I’m done fibbing. Double heck, I’m proving her right. I am becoming my mom. Still, I smile, trying for sweet and innocent, but feeling sneakier now than years ago when I went on cons.

  I peddle away, still smiling, and when I round the corner I groan. What am I doing?

  Chapter 14

  My cruise past the basketball court and campus produces no results, and I keep heading southwest toward the ferry. The whole time I tell myself as soon as I’m done, I’ll return Rocco’s bike. I’ll text Aunt Grace and have her pick up me, Clover, and poor Lolli. That’ll make this all okay.

  Some thirty minutes later I arrive at the ferry. Pulling over next to a fruit and vegetable stand, I watch as vehicles and pedestrians load up onto the double-decker, white and green boat.

  We only live a mile from here, and sometimes on a really quiet evening, I can hear the ferry’s horn from our house as it runs its last trip of the day. Aunt Grace and I have ridden the ferry a few times, but we usually take the bridge over to the mainland when we visit Mom on family day at the correctional facility.

  Which reminds me, family day is tomorrow, and I don’t have time to go see Mom. Maybe I can talk Aunt Grace out of it.

  The usual island breeze kicks up, and my ponytail flicks my face. I swipe it out of the way, and shielding my eyes against the summer sun, I survey the area in search of Ean and Rocco. Because Ean’s mom is the captain, the two of them sometimes hang out on the top deck and ride the ferry back and forth between the island and the mainland.

  I keep hoping they’ll ask me to join them. It seems like a fun way to kill a day.

  Digging the binoculars out, I zero in on the ferry’s pilothouse where Captain Fanny usually stands. I see her there talking on a radio, but no Ean or Rocco.

  I’m looking at the line of cars, trying to estimate if I have time to run on the boat and talk to Captain Fanny when someone tugs on my green sundress. Lowering the binoculars, I look down to see a little boy with a baseball cap wedged over curly dark hair.

  “Hi,” he says, taking a bite of a banana.

  “Hi,” I say back.

  He looks at my binoculars. “Those are neat.”

  “I’d let you borrow them, but they don’t belong to me.”

  He shrugs. “That’s okay.” He takes another bite.

  I go back to looking at the ferry right as its horn blows. With a sigh, I put the binoculars away. It’ll be a good forty-five minutes before it returns. Guess I could cruise by the boatyard that Captain Fanny owns and see if Ean and Rocco are there. Then I could circle back around and be here when the ferry docks again.

  It’s then that I note the boy is still standing there, looking up at me.

  “Can I help you?” I ask.

  He shoots me a toothless grin. “My cat is lost.”

  “Okay.”

  “Will you get her for me?” He reaches down inside the front pocket of his overalls and pulls out a ten. “I’ll pay you.”

  I eye the ten for a second, thinking about my torn flip flops and my flat tire. Not that ten bucks will buy me both, but it’s something.

  No. What am I doing? This is a little boy. I’m not going to take his ten bucks. “How old are you?”

  “Eight.” He takes another bite of banana. “Why?”

  “I don’t know, I guess I’m a bit surprised an eight-year-old is offering me ten bucks.”

  “It’s my allowance.” He pushes the ten at me. “You can have it if you get my cat back.”

  “What’s your name?” I look around. “More importantly, where are your parents?”

  He points at the lighthouse that sits beside the ferry’s dock. “My parents run the lighthouse.”

  “Wow, that’s neat.”

  “My name’s Turner and my cat is Nitzi.” He points down the sandy road. “She went that way. I’m not allowed to go beyond the fruit stand. I’ve been waiting here for her to come back, but she hasn’t yet. Then I saw you. You look like you can help me.”

  “Oh, yeah. Why is that?”

  “You look official with your binoculars.”

  “That’s right.” Reaching down inside my mermaid messenger bag, I pull out a business card and hand it to him. “Today is your lucky day, Turner. I’m a private investigator.”

  “Wow!”

  I look over my shoulder at the sand and shell road that winds back into an old neighborhood with giant live oaks on both sides and ending at the scariest looking house on the island. Like so scary a haunted house could set up shop. Dr. Alva lives there. He’s a taxidermist and his daughter Maura is super creepy.

  But I digress.

  Beyond the road lies the intra-coastal waterway. There’s no way the cat went into the water. How hard could it be to find it? Probably not too hard. I should ask some questions, though, to make me look official.

  I turn back to the boy. “When was the last time you saw Nitzi?”

  “About an hour ago.”

  “What does she look like?”

  He chucks his banana peel into a nearby garbage and holds up his phone to show me a photo of a yellow, brown, and white cat with way too much hair.

  Turner pushes the ten at me again, and I say, “Tell you what, this is on the house.”

  “Really?”

  “Really.” Plus, I figure on the tails of a B and E and also “borrowing” Rocco’s bike, I better do some good to balance things out. I turn my bike, or rather Rocco’s bike, around. “Be back in a bit.”

  “I’ll stay here in case Nitzi comes this way.”

  “Good idea,” I tell him.


  I peddle off down the sandy road, confident this will all be over in a matter of minutes. The road’s only about a half-mile long, ending of course at the water. Beyond that, way in the distance, sits Horse Island, the last island in our chain that runs the northeast coastline of Florida. Horse Island is inhabited by horses only. You can only get to it by boat. I’ve never been there but would love to go.

  Ooh, maybe now that I’m friends with Diamond and she lives on a boat, I can talk her dad into taking us. Aunt Grace would let me do that. Heck, Aunt Grace would probably want to go with us.

  As I think through this, getting more and more excited about the possible trip to Horse Island, I make several passes up and down the road, searching every tree, every bush, and every corner of every house. But no Nitzi, the cat.

  When a heavyset lady dressed in a housecoat comes out onto her porch and gives me the evil eye, I realize all this back and forth makes me look like I’m up to no good. Like I’m casing the joint.

  I give her my best smile. “I’m looking for a runaway cat.”

  She doesn’t say anything, just turns around and goes back inside. O-kay.

  My stomach growls, Clover whines, and I decide to take a quick break. I grab a dried fruit bar from my bag, and me and Clover go for a little stroll as she does her business. At least the road is shaded by live oaks.

  I chew my bar, checking on Clover every now and then, and my thoughts veer to Rocco. Last time I saw him he said he was going to find the capsule before me. He was going to get that fifty bucks. Would a guilty person say that? Maybe. His bracelet was at the scene of the crime, and he did admit to being on campus that night. Plus Mr. De Luca said it’s usually the original person you think.

  I didn’t think Josie was the pranking type of person, but now that I’m really digging into this thought process, I can totally see it. I can see Josie talking Rocco into helping her take the capsule. Rocco’s known for his pranks around the school, and she appealed to that side of him. Josie probably convinced him it would be a great joke on the whole island when really, she was thinking of me.