Howard Wallace, P.I.

by Casey Lyall

  Executing a complicated seat dance, Ivy threw a fist in the air. “Yesssssss.”

  Our next few moves needed to be carefully planned out if we had any hope of avoiding disaster. In the history of my life choices, this one was going down as a doozy, but I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t fun.

  Ivy rubbed her hands together. “Plan. Lay it on me.”

  “Break me out of house arrest, to start,” I said.

  Her smile turned calculating. “Easy,” she said. “We convince your mom to let you come over to my place for dinner. She loves me. She’ll totally go for it.”

  “What are we actually doing?”

  “Going to the Grantleyville Community Theater rehearsal. A little birdie told me that’s where Bradley would be this weekend.”

  I scratched at my nose to hide my grin. “Was this birdie named Bradley?”

  “You betcha. He invited me after the Drama Club meeting.”

  “Lucky girl.”

  “Okay, let’s blow this popsicle stand!” Ivy jumped up and did a little boogie.

  I grabbed her sleeve before she could charge out the door. There was such a thing as priorities. “First we have to clean up. My mother will hit the roof if she sees this mess.”

  Ivy shrugged, bending down to pick up a cheese puff. “Piece of cake.” She blew on the puff and popped it in her mouth. “We’ll be done in no time.”

  No time turned into quite a bit of time. Ivy’d managed to kick snack mix into every nook and cranny of the living room. When I was finally satisfied my mother wouldn’t collapse at the sight of the place, I turned to leave and found our exit blocked. This mission was going to fail before we even made it outside.

  My sister Eileen stood in the doorway surrounded by an air of smugness only a vengeful sibling could generate. “Going somewhere, Howard?”

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  “What do you want, Eileen? I’m a little busy at the moment.”

  My sister pushed off the door frame. “What do I want?” She chuckled—never a good sign. “No,” she said. “This is about what you want. And what it’s worth to you.”

  Ivy and I exchanged uneasy glances. “Don’t know what you mean,” I said.

  “I heard everything. I know what you’re up to,” she said. “I could go and tell Mom right now.”

  “Were you listening in on our conversation?” Ivy stalked up to my sister, propelled by her outrage. I put a hand on her shoulder to pull her back and got a dirty look for my trouble.

  “No,” Eileen said. “That’s Howard’s usual method. Word to the wise, Ivy: next time you give a rallying speech—talk quietly.” She looked at me. “You’re lucky the parents are outside.”

  I racked my brain trying to figure out what to do and leapt on the first idea that came to mind. “Tell on me and I’ll disclose that your study session at the library last week was actually a party at Tammy’s house.”

  Eileen threw up her hands. “This is what I’m talking about. I can’t do anything without you sticking your nose in it,” she said. “There is a thing called privacy, Howard.” She opened her mouth to yell at me some more but then shook her head. “You know what? I don’t care. Go ahead and tattle. It’ll be worth it to see you get nailed for trying to bust out.” Eileen turned to leave, and panic overrode every other thought I had. Ivy and I were finishing this case. We couldn’t be tripped up before we even left the house, especially not by my evil sister.

  “Wait,” I blurted out.

  She stopped in the doorway, not facing us, but not leaving either. Progress.

  “What’s it going to take?”

  She looked over her shoulder at me. “For my silence or my help?”

  “Both.”

  That reeled her in. Eileen sauntered back into the living room. “It’s a pretty big thing you’re asking,” she said as she picked up a pretzel from the snack bowl and popped it in her mouth. I wasn’t about to tell her where they’d been. She sat down on the table and settled the bowl into her lap.

  “Ideally, my price would be you staying out of my business,” she said. “But that would last less than a hot minute.” Eileen tapped a pretzel against her chin. “My second choice is free detective services for life.”

  “That’s ridiculous, and it’s not happening,” Ivy said, arms crossed.

  They both looked at me, expecting an answer, and I took my time thinking one over. As far as I was concerned, this was more solid ground. Favors are a P.I.’s best currency.

  I could negotiate.

  “One case.”

  “Three cases, and you have to do all my chores for a month.”

  Ivy made a strangled noise in her throat as I considered Eileen’s counteroffer. Three cases were a risky bet. Who knew what my devious sister would come up with?

  “One case,” I said. “And I’ll do your chores for two months.”

  Eileen bobbed a nod and held out her hand to seal the deal. “Agreed.”

  We shook on it and got to work.

  “Your first mistake,” Eileen said, “is thinking you can charm your way out of the house. You’re grounded, and any love Mom has for your little sidekick here isn’t going to change that.”

  “I am offended by at least three parts of that statement.” Ivy said. I silently pleaded with her to let it go. “But I’ll survive,” she continued. “Eileen, try a cheese puff. They’re delicious.”

  Coming up with a plan was going to take longer than actually carrying it out. “What are you thinking, Eileen?”

  “I could tell them you’re sick,” she said. “Keep them out of the living room until you got back.”

  “No dice,” I said. “They’d want to check in on me and see what’s wrong.”

  Ivy and I weighed our options on the couch while Eileen made her way through the tainted snack mix.

  “I’ve got it.” My partner snapped her fingers. “We tell them you’re coming over to work on an extra-credit project.”

  My sister and I looked at each other and burst out laughing. “That would never fly,” I said.

  “The parents would be all over it,” Eileen agreed.

  “We could tell them you annoyed me,” Ivy said. “And I locked you in your room.” She smacked me in the shoulder.

  “Ow.” I rubbed at the spot and thought it over. “That might actually work.”

  The back door opened and closed as my folks entered the kitchen.

  “Stay here,” Eileen whispered. “I have a plan.”

  I held on to the hem of her shirt. “Share the plan.”

  “We need to play on their concerns about you, and, trust me, they have many,” Eileen said, batting my hand away. “I’m going to go in there and soften them up. Let me work my magic.”

  I preferred to put my trust in a well-thought-out strategy over magic, but my sister was already out the door. She walked into the kitchen while Ivy and I crept along the hallway. By the time we got close enough to listen in, her pitch was underway.

  “He needs to get out more, Mom,” Eileen said.

  “Well, he’s punished,” was my mother’s patient reply.

  My sister paused for full dramatic effect. “I saw him talking to his bike again this morning.”

  “Blue’s been through a rough patch,” my father chimed in. “She needs some extra TLC.”

  “Can we not with the whole ‘the bike has feelings’ thing?” Eileen sighed. “And you wonder why Howard is so weird.”

  There was another pause. I knew exactly which Look my mother was wearing. “That’s enough, Eileen,” she said. “I appreciate your concern, but we’re dealing with your brother, and that’s all you need to know.”

  “Fine,” Eileen said. “Let him lose all his friends. Sorry. Friend.”

  Ivy pointed at herself and grinned. That’s me, she mouthed. I motioned for her to move back when I realized the silence meant my sister was coming our way.

  Eileen stood in the doorway for her big finish. “At least I tried.” She swirled out of
the kitchen and whispered in my ear as she stalked by. “Seed planted. Give it a little bit before you go in.”

  We listened to my parents murmuring for as close to a full minute as I could make it with Ivy poking me in the side. After a brief, whispered argument, she agreed to stay in the hall while I took my turn at bat.

  Conversation came to a halt when I slunk into the kitchen trying to look as pathetic as possible.

  “Howard,” my mother said. “Are you enjoying your movie?”

  “Mov—yes,” I said. I’d completely forgotten we’d been watching a movie. Sam Spade help me if she asked about the plot. “It’s awesome, I love it, thank you for picking it.” I heard a quiet thump from the hallway. The warning from Ivy was loud and clear: Get to the point, Howard.

  “Ivy invited me over for supper,” I said. “I know I’m grounded, and the answer’s probably no.” Cue a hopeful little smile. “But may I?”

  My folks had one of their patented wordless discussions. I waited out the nods and eyebrow raises, milking that hopeful smile for every drop of sympathy I could.

  “Okay,” my mother finally said. “But, you go straight there. No side trips. No shenanigans.”

  I nodded, fingers crossed behind my back.

  “Once you have dinner,” my old man chimed in. “You come right back.”

  I opened my mouth to say “thank you” when Ivy bounded into the room.

  “Great! Thanks, Mrs. Wallace,” she said as she grabbed my arm. “Hi, Mr. Wallace.”

  My folks stared at Ivy and then me. They were on the edge of confused and teetering into suspicious.

  “Come on, Howard, let’s go.” Ivy dragged me out the door as I waved good-bye.

  Safely out on the driveway, I shook my head at Ivy. “Way to play it cool, partner.”

  “What can I say?” Ivy tossed back her hair. “I was born for the stage.”

  “And I know where to find you one,” I said.

  ... .- -- -..-. ... .--. .- -.. . .. --- -. ...

  The Grantleyville Community Theater troupe held their rehearsals at the senior center. Ivy and I strode through the entrance, full of a singular purpose—track down Bradley Chen. The apple-cheeked and cotton-haired receptionist brought us up short with a tiny, polite cough.

  “Everyone needs to sign in, dears.” She pushed a sheet of paper across the desk.

  “Oh,” I said. “Sure, no problem.” I scribbled down a name and passed the paper over to Ivy.

  “Rule number eleven,” I whispered. When investigating, a good detective never leaves a trail.

  “With a side of rule number four,” she said with a nod. After finishing off her signature with a dot and a swirl, Ivy handed the sheet back to the receptionist.

  I glanced at the nameplate on the desk and leaned over it with a smile. “Hazel—may I call you Hazel?”

  She smiled back after squinting at the sign-in sheet. “Of course, Miles.”

  “My friend Lisa and I wanted to check out the theater group. Would you be able to point us in their direction?”

  “Down the hall and to the right, the auditorium is at the very end there.”

  “Thank you, Hazel,” I said, ushering Ivy down the hall.

  “You’re welcome, sweetie. Have fun.” Hazel waved us off, and I used the brief window of time to review our plan of attack.

  “We need to get him alone,” I said. “We’ll have better luck getting our answers without any witnesses.”

  “How are we gonna get him to talk?” Ivy danced down the hall, revving herself up like a boxer before a fight.

  “Rule number twelve: everyone has a hook,” I said. “You just have to figure out what it is in order to reel ’em in.” We stood outside the auditorium and watched Bradley through a window in the door. He was running through the paces of a scene. “Got anything good on him?” I asked Ivy.

  She nodded her head slowly. “I have something that might work. How do you want to play it?”

  “Only one way springs to mind.”

  Her eyes opened wide. “Bad cop, bad cop?”

  “How about you take the lead,” I said with a grin. “I got your back.”

  “This is going to be awesome.” Ivy straightened her shoulders. Serious business from head to toe, she pushed open the door and headed inside.

  We stood on the sidelines waiting for Bradley to finish his scene. He caught sight of us near the end and fumbled his lines. So far, so good.

  By the time we strolled up to him, Bradley had rallied his composure. “Hey, Ivy,” he said. “Did you come to check out the group?” He flipped his hair out of his eyes and rocked back on his heels, cool as a cucumber.

  Ivy whipped a notebook out of her pocket, and I felt a surge of pride. “We have more questions,” she said.

  “About Drama Club?” Bradley was either incredibly thick or a much better actor than I’d thought.

  “No, Bradley,” Ivy said. “About the trouble you and Lisa have gotten yourselves into. Blackmail’s a nasty business.”

  A muscle in Bradley’s jaw started to jerk. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Why don’t you step into our office,” Ivy said, taking Bradley by the arm. I grabbed on to the other side, and together we hauled him out of the auditorium to the women’s bathroom a few doors down.

  Bradley brushed himself off and leaned against a sink. “Should I be calling my lawyer? I’m pretty sure this is harassment.”

  Ivy blocked the door while I checked the stalls. “So is sending someone threatening notes and vandalizing their office,” she said. “Oh, but wait, you don’t know anything about that, right, Bradley?”

  He switched his gaze warily between me and Ivy. “Yes,” he said. “That’s what I’m saying.”

  “Let’s talk about something else for a bit.” Ivy tapped a pen against her notebook. “Drama Club was pretty interesting this week, don’t you think?”

  “Yeah, I guess.”

  “I liked the part when Mrs. Pamuk talked about how being on stage was a privilege, not a right.” Ivy leaned in close. “If it came to light that someone was part of a cruel and illegal scheme, they’d forfeit that right, wouldn’t they, Bradley?”

  He pulled a pack of Juicy Smash from his pocket and fumbled out a piece. My memory teemed with images of my vandalized desk. “Mind if I take a look at that?” I asked, reaching for the pack.

  “Yes. Why?” Bradley clutched the pack tighter in his sweaty palms. “No. Is this a trick?”

  “It’s just gum, Bradley,” I cocked my head at him, “isn’t it?”

  He flipped the pack a few times and then handed it over. Popping out the gum sleeve, I looked inside the cardboard cover and nodded in grim satisfaction.

  “You know, my office was broken into earlier this week,” I said to Bradley as I passed the pack over to Ivy. “The only thing that was stolen was my Juicy Smash stock.”

  “What a shame,” he said. “Why don’t you have the rest of mine, since you’ve already taken it?”

  “Actually, it is mine,” I said. “See this here?” I pointed to the inside of the gum pack that Ivy held up for display. “I mark all my inventory. HW265. Howard Wallace, pack number 265.”

  Bradley gulped nervously, his eyes darting back and forth between me and Ivy. We had to dig in deep before he rabbited. Ever so slightly, I nodded at Ivy.

  “That’s some pretty serious evidence, Bradley,” she said. “We take this to Mrs. Rodriguez and you’re going to get detention for sure, maybe even suspended.”

  Swiping at the sweat on his upper lip, Bradley shook his head. “No. No, they said it would be fine. It’s all going to work out fine.”

  “I don’t know about that,” Ivy said. “What do you think’s going to happen once Mrs. Pamuk gets wind of this? The disappointment she’s going to feel?” She clucked her tongue. “I think you’ll be lucky if you make it onto the stage crew.”

  “Stage crew.” Bradley wheezed out a breath and dropped his head down between
his legs. “Stage crew. I can’t breathe.”

  Ivy shot me a panicked look, and I motioned for her to keep going. She patted him on the back and bent down to speak into his ear.

  “It doesn’t have to be that way, Bradley. You tell us what we need to know, and we leave your name out of it.”

  Bradley’s breathing began to slow, and his muffled voice drifted up. “No stage crew?”

  “No stage crew, no suspension,” Ivy crooned. “Nothing to stand between you and the spotlight.”

  After one deep sigh, Bradley straightened up and smoothed his hair back into place. He eyed Ivy for a long moment before—finally—his shoulders sagged in defeat and he leaned limply against the sink. “Okay, fine,” he said. “What do you want to know?”

  “Why’d you bust up my office?” I asked.

  “It was part of the plan.”

  “The plan you and Lisa concocted to bump me off the case and get Meredith banned from the student council?” I stood elbow to elbow with Ivy, and we treated him to a couple of frosty stares.

  “Yes,” he said before shaking his head. “I mean no.”

  “Which one is it, Bradley?” Ivy asked.

  “Give me a minute here, jeez.” He began to pace and rub his stomach. Crime wasn’t for everyone. “Yes, it was part of the plan but it wasn’t our plan. She said if we stuck to it, everything would be fine.”

  “She?” Ivy demanded.

  “You guys don’t understand,” Bradley whined. “We were really upset about Meredith getting elected, and everything she said made sense. It was supposed to be easy.”

  “We get it,” I said. “You were hard done by; you were weak.”

  “You didn’t know what you were getting into,” Ivy chimed in. “Blah, blah, blah. Just tell us who ‘she’ is.”

  “I don’t know,” he said, tugging on his hair. “You don’t know what she’s like. No one does. She’ll destroy me if I talk.”

  “Let’s not exaggerate,” I said.

  “I’m not.” Bradley shuddered. “She’s scarier than Lisa.”

  I rolled my eyes at Ivy. Enough of this. We needed the ringleader’s name, and we needed it now.

  “Bradley. Stage crew,” she said, holding up one hand and then the other, “or spotlight.”