by Casey Lyall
Ivy stepped in between Lisa and me, clutching her notebook as a shield. “He helped track you down for the interview. That’s all. Why don’t you look at this as an opportunity to set the record straight? Since everyone’s talking about you guys anyway.”
Lisa laughed bitterly. “You want me to confirm to everyone that we’re fighting? To say that Meredith is the worst mistake this school ever made and that she’s ruining everything? Not a chance.” A small smile crept out, the same one she wore after beaning that girl with a volleyball. “Off the record?”
Ivy nodded enthusiastically.
“I don’t think that she’ll be with us much longer,” Lisa said.
“I really hope you mean not with you on the student council as opposed to with us in this world,” I said, only halfway joking. Grantleys were bred for ruthlessness.
“Very funny, Howard,” Lisa said.
“Who’d replace her?” I asked. “Bradley Chen?”
Lisa smiled broadly and looked at her bare wrist. “Why, look at the time,” she said. “I’m late for my meeting.” She flounced off down the hall.
I looked over at Ivy, who had pulled out a new pen to finish up the last of her notes. “What do you think?”
“Honestly?” She tapped her notebook against her leg. “I think it doesn’t add up.”
“Explain, young apprentice.”
“First of all, check out this handwriting.” Ivy flipped to the page Lisa has left her answers on. “Way too messy to be the same person behind those tidy little blackmail notes.”
I hated to admit it, but I was impressed. “Nice bit of business,” I said. “Getting a sample of her writing like that.”
“Told you I’d picked up some tricks,” Ivy crowed. “Super pro detective, right here.”
“Calm down, super pro,” I said, ducking her high fives. “What else isn’t working for you?”
“Telling us she thinks Meredith’s going to get the boot?” Ivy snorted. “If she was really behind it, don’t you think she’d have played it closer to the vest?” She gulped down the rest of her laughter. “Unless she is, and she’s actually that dense.”
“Or that confident we can’t tie her to it,” I said. “But I agree, there’s more going on here.” We started walking down the hall, and I thought about our interviews over the last couple days.
“Bradley’s not strong enough to have done this on his own, but Lisa’s too reckless. She was ready to take my head off back there,” I said. “This plan’s been acted out carefully and methodically. Whoever our blackmailer is must have some serious restraint.”
“You think there’s someone else involved?”
“It’s entirely possible.” I nodded. “There must be another angle we haven’t considered yet. We need to start looking in other directions.”
Turning the corner, I ran smack into the iron bulk of Mr. Vannick. He pinned me with a face-melting glare. “Howard Wallace. What do you think you’re doing?”
Chapter Fourteen
Ivy and I tried to look innocent as Mr. Vannick repeated the question.
“School is done,” he said. “What are you doing here?”
“Interviewing Lisa Grantley for the GMS blog,” Ivy said. Mr. Vannick looked around, and we all noted the distinct lack of Lisa in the area. “We just finished,” she amended.
Mr. Vannick pointed at the exit. “Well, get going,” he said. “Seriously, kids are supposed to want to leave when the bell rings.”
We made it halfway down the hall when Mr. Vannick called out.
“Oh, and Howard? Is that your blue bike at the racks?”
I nodded slowly. “Yes, sir.”
“You should be careful about leaving it out there for so long after hours.” He walked toward me, measuring out his words with each step. “It would be unfortunate if something were to happen to it.”
“Yes, sir.” I bit off the last syllable and held my ground. I didn’t like his tone.
“Okay, then. On your way.” Pivoting on his heel, he walked back to his classroom. A buzz sounded from his pocket, and he pulled out his phone. “Hello.”
Ivy grabbed my sleeve and pulled me closer to the side door.
“Hold on a sec,” I said, leaning forward, trying to catch a snippet of Mr. Vannick’s conversation.
“Howard, what are you doing?” she whispered.
“You were listening to that, right?” I crept down the hall, closer to Mr. Vannick’s classroom. “Am I the only one who thought it was weird?”
“He’s a teacher,” Ivy said, tightening her grip on my arm. “It’s kind of their job to make sure we’re not doing things we’re not supposed to do.” She shot a look at the open door of the classroom. “Like eavesdropping.”
“First of all,” I said, keeping my voice low. “Eavesdropping is a top-tier detective skill, so get used to that. Second, tell me how that crack about Blue adds up.”
“Yeah, that was strange,” she said. “I don’t know how he’d think anyone would steal your disaster of a bike.”
“Hey. Nobody insults Blue but me.”
“My apologies to Blue,” Ivy said. “On both fronts.”
We were close enough to the room that we could hear Mr. Vannick’s voice as it drifted out into the hallway.
“I’m leaving right now.”
I risked a quick peek around the doorframe. Leaning against his desk, Mr. Vannick had one hand on his phone, the other on a frayed, red lunch bag. His battered briefcase sat lopsided on top of a squat garbage can. Ivy poked me in the side, and I motioned for her to stay back.
“I know it’s late, but you know it’s Wednesday. Volleyball practice.” Sighing, Mr. Vannick reached down to grab his case. “No, Friday is the student council meeting.” Another sigh. “There’s nothing I can do about it. I drew the short straw this year.”
I felt something nudging at my feet. Looking down, I saw Ivy crouched on the floor, straining to get a glimpse inside the classroom.
“Ivy,” I hissed. She had the nerve to look up and shush me.
“It’s a complete waste of time,” Mr. Vannick said. “If I could get out of it, I would.” He turned to grab his coat off his chair, knocking the briefcase against the desk as he leaned. The locks on the case split open, allowing papers to tumble out. A loud groan travelled across the room. “Honey, I have to go. I’ll see you soon.” Mr. Vannick shoved his phone back in his pocket and scrubbed a hand through his hair. When he bent to gather up the papers and bags, I took that as our cue to leave. Pulling Ivy up to her feet, I hustled her back down the hall and out the side door.
“The weirdness keeps piling up around Mr. Vannick,” I said to Ivy. “We need to ask him some questions tomorrow.”
“I can see that going super well,” she said as we walked along the side of the school to the back lot. “Hey, isn’t that Lisa and Bradley?” Ivy pointed.
Our suspects were locked in what looked like a heated argument. Both of them were yelling, and Lisa was flailing her arms.
She caught sight of us peering at them over the recycling bins and said something to Bradley. His head whipped around to look over, and she grabbed his arm, propelling him down the sidewalk, away from the school.
“Come on,” I said. “Show’s over, and I want to stop off at the office for some more gum before we go home.”
Mr. Vannick’s phone call needled at my brain. “Do you think all the teachers feel that way about the student council, or just Mr. Vannick?”
“Don’t know,” Ivy shrugged, “but if he’s this aggravated six weeks into it, imagine what a beast he’s gonna be by June.” She stopped in her tracks and gasped. “Howard, look!”
I looked around. “What? It’s not a spaceman, is it?”
“What?” Ivy poked at me. “No, the squirrels have gotten into the office again.” She walked through the debris. “Honestly, this is ridiculous.”
I looked around at the carnage. The buckets and the desk were in a tumbled heap. The desk drawers had be
en pulled out and scattered over the ground. I lifted a couple to look underneath them. No Juicy. There was, however, a piece of paper with familiar block writing on it.
“Not squirrels,” I said, “unless they’ve learned to write.” I passed the note to Ivy.
“I warned you once. I don’t like repeating myself. Quit the Reddy case,” she read. “Or else.” She handed it back to me. “Again, very vague.”
“Yes,” I agreed. “But it means we’re doing something right.”
“Oh, really?”
“Yup,” I said. “I’ve never been threatened and vandalized before.” I grinned at Ivy. “I must be getting good.”
Chapter Fifteen
I bounced around the next morning brimming with confidence. My investigative skills had pushed someone to the point of destruction and extortion. Someone knew I was on their trail. The fact that they found me disconcerting enough to take such measures warmed my heart.
I whistled on my way into the kitchen. Eileen sat at the table, wolfing down her breakfast in deference to the fact that she was already late for school. She looked up when I entered the room, and a muscle in her right cheek began to twitch.
“What’s got you in such a good mood?” she demanded.
“Coercion,” I said.
She stared at me for a few seconds and then got up to toss her dishes in the sink, shaking her head. “You are a freak and a half.”
“A freak who gets results,” I said, pouring a wave of cereal into my bowl. “That extra half is spare awesome.”
“I’m leaving now,” Eileen said. “Keep talking to the people who care.”
I looked around the empty kitchen. “I’m going to solve a case today,” I said to my cereal.
After making short work of my breakfast, I headed out to the garage to snag Big Blue. Invigorated by my enthusiasm, Blue zipped up the street with the speed of a bike half her age. Even Tim and Carl had a hard time putting a dent in my mood. They made a solid effort, relieving me not only of my lunch but my gum funds as well. I was undaunted. There’d be more where that came from once Ivy and I solved this case and started raking in the clients.
Ivy was idling on the bike rack when we arrived, bright green raincoat on full display. I had a sinking feeling this behavior marked the beginnings of a habit.
“Rule number five: blend,” I said.
“I’m sorry; I don’t understand cryptic muttering this early in the morning. What are you talking about?”
“If you’re going to lurk around the bike racks, you should probably get a bike.” I secured Blue and looked up at Ivy. “Did we have a meeting?”
“No, we have a problem,” she said.
“Good. I hate meetings.”
“You’re hilarious.” Ivy vaulted off the rack and fell into step beside me. “You know what else is hilarious? The new rumor someone started about Meredith. It’s a doozy.”
I took a moment to digest that piece of information. “Have you seen her yet today?”
“She’s waiting in the office—”
A ripe curse interrupted Ivy, and we turned to see Mr. Vannick struggling up the sidewalk, trying to keep a hold on his various possessions. The travel mug in his left hand tipped precariously as he kept one finger looped through his old lunch bag. His right hand gripped the handle of his worn briefcase. The coat he had flung over his arm was sliding to the ground despite his best efforts to pin it to his side. The case banged against his leg, and both locks broke open. Papers streamed out on to the pavement. Mr. Vannick’s curses began to increase in volume and creativity. Ivy and I jogged over.
“Need some help, Mr. Vannick?” I asked.
He looked up with a jerk and fumbled his mug in the process. Black coffee poured out in a wave over his shoes and the papers strewn across the sidewalk. “No, no, no!” he cried.
We crouched down to rescue what we could out of the path of the creeping coffee puddle. Mr. Vannick grimaced at the mess, then threw his coat on top of it and started to mop it up.
“I’m glad we ran into you, sir,” I said. He grunted and wrung his coat out over the grass. “My friend Ivy is new here, and she has some questions about our student council.”
She nodded and gave him a big smile. “My old school didn’t have one, and I love that the students here are so actively involved. It’s not often we get to be part of the decision-making process.”
Mr. Vannick snorted. “All they’re deciding on is whether or not to have balloons at whatever silly dance is happening. It’s an hour every Friday that’s a waste of everyone’s time.”
“Oh,” Ivy said. “I’d heard it described a little differently.”
He looked at her and gave his head a shake. “No, yeah, you’re right. It’s a great program, and the kids learn a lot. Talk to Lisa Grantley about it.” He took the papers out of our hands and slid them into the dry side of the case, then gave Ivy a second look. “Weren’t you already interviewing her?”
“Yes,” Ivy said. “We’re interested in a teacher’s perspective.”
“You’re at school an hour early to talk to me about middle school politics?”
“What do you mean?” She consulted her watch. “It’s twenty after eight.”
Mr. Vannick’s mouth dropped open, and he looked at his own watch. He shook his wrist. “Are you kidding me?” he shouted.
In a flash all of the ruined papers and his sopping wet coat had been stuffed back inside the broken briefcase. He hugged it shut and hustled up the sidewalk into the school.
“C’mon,” I said to Ivy. “Let’s go deal with our client.”
... .- -- -..-. ... .--. .- -.. .
Meredith pounced as soon as we entered the office. “Did she tell you?” she demanded.
I nodded and dropped into my chair. “There’s a new rumor floating around.”
“It’s careening around, smashing my future to bits.” Tears pooled in her eyes, and she swiped at them hastily.
“Whatever they’re saying, it’s not the end of the world.” My attempt at comfort was met with angry glares from both Meredith and Delia.
“They’re saying that Lisa is going to formally ask Meredith to step down at the meeting.” Delia whispered as though speaking below full volume would make it less true.
“People are saying she has proof that I’m incompetent,” Meredith said, a sour note coloring her voice.
That was interesting. “Proof,” I said as Ivy and I exchanged a sidelong glance. “As in, she has the checks?”
“I have no idea,” Meredith said. “But I did find this in my locker this morning.” She handed me a folded piece of paper. This one read, You were warned. You didn’t listen. Prepare for your CONSEQUENCES.
Pacing back and forth, Delia squeezed her hands together nervously. “This is getting really serious, guys. Don’t you think it’s time to go to Mr. Vannick?”
“No,” I said firmly.
Delia shook her head, prepared to argue the point.
“He’s a suspect,” I said. Delia’s jaw dropped in shock, and even Meredith looked a little stunned. “After investigating Bradley and Lisa all week, we suspect they’re not working alone. Who else would have something to gain from the student council being disbanded?”
“Someone who resents the time spent staying late,” Ivy piped up, catching on to my train of thought.
“Someone who’s a strong enough leader to convince them to do something illegal,” I said.
Meredith sank down onto the guest bucket and buried her face in her hands. “That makes sense, actually.” Her muffled voice came through her fingers. “I can see Bradley and Lisa doing his dirty work.”
“No,” Delia burst out. “That’s crazy. He’s a teacher.”
“That just gives him a title to hide behind,” Ivy said.
“Delia,” I said. “We were hired to figure out who’s behind this. Trust us to do our job.” I clapped my hands together to bring us back on point. “The good news is—I have a plan. Meredith, when
have you usually been receiving the notes?”
“Sometimes before, but usually at the end of school.”
I nodded, taking note of that schedule. Everything depended on successful timing.
“Your plan had better work, Howard.” As she calmed down, Meredith reverted to her usual state of snippiness. “Pull the plug on these rumors, and find those checks. I’m over this.” She stalked off, the guest bucket toppling in her wake.
Delia rushed over to right it and offered a small, apologetic smile. “She’s not usually like this, you know.”
Ivy looked like she was about to burst out laughing, and I motioned for her to zip it.
“She’s not,” Delia said, eager to defend her friend. “It’s stressful being treasurer. And it means a lot to her. This whole thing with Lisa and Bradley has made it worse.”
“That’s no excuse for how she treats you,” Ivy said. “Why are you even friends with her?”
Delia fixed her attention on dusting dirt off the bucket. “She used to be different,” she said at last. “I have to ride out this craziness, and when things go back to normal, we’ll be back to having fun together. I know it.” Delia picked up her bag and rubbed a hand against her neck. “I’ll see you guys later.”
Ivy waited until Delia had turned the corner of the shed before bounding up to the desk.
“What’s the deal, partner?”
“We’re going to trace the rumors to their source, then stake out Meredith’s locker and catch the blackmailer in the act.”
Ivy pursed her lips. “It’s not the best plan I’ve ever heard,” she said.
“Rule number six, Ivy,” I said. “A bad plan is better than no plan.”
“If you say so.”
I hauled up my bag and led the way out of the office. “Let’s roll,” I said. “It’s time to gossip.”
Chapter Sixteen
The field of gossip in a middle school is a twisting, tangled landscape of truth, lies, and all the gray in between. Wading into the murk, Ivy and I interviewed kid after kid. With such a juicy mess on their plates, everyone was more than happy to chew over the details.