Whenever I did fall asleep, I kept having this nightmare that Joe and I were caught high up in the Resolve’s tallest mast during a massive thunderstorm. Each time it was the same awful dream. A huge wave would crash against the ship, knocking Joe off the mast. I’d grab him, but he’d start to slip from my hands, and I then I’d wake up not knowing if I saved him or not. Ugh. I was glad it was morning.
It wasn’t a big surprise that the whole school was buzzing about Don Sterling’s murder. There were all kinds of crazy rumors and conspiracy theories flying around. Mr. Lakin was at the center of a lot of them too. Some people were even saying the police had already arrested him. Mr. Lakin disproved that one himself by walking down the crowded hall right before the first-period bell. It was like somebody hit the mute button on the whole school. Everybody shut up all at once and just stared. Even some of the teachers. There were some hushed whispers and murmuring, and Amir even yelled out, “Good shot!” Mr. Lakin just kept his eyes down and headed straight for his classroom.
More than anything else, it was the revelations we’d discovered in Mr. Lakin’s old office aboard the Resolve that really had me unsettled. His personal and financial lives were in turmoil, and his service as a mounted policeman meant that it might not have been such an impossible shot for him after all. I didn’t know how the pieces fit, but they all looked like part of the same puzzle.
Joe and I were going to have to find a way to subtly question him about Don Sterling’s death, and I really wasn’t looking forward to it. I usually loved my afternoon AP history class, especially now that we were deep into analysis of the Revolutionary War’s expansion from a localized Colonial uprising into a world war involving the Spanish and French. It was my last period of the day, and a lot of times I’d hang out at Mr. Lakin’s desk after class, going into more detail about the lesson. Not today. Today we weren’t going to be talking about history. I was going to be asking him about some very current events, and I didn’t think either of us was going to enjoy it very much.
Time was ticking—most murders that aren’t solved in the first forty-eight hours are never solved at all—so Joe and I were going to have to make the most of our investigation, even though we were stuck at school. Mr. Lakin wasn’t our only lead inside the halls of Bayport High. The Hardy boys’ reputation as amateur detectives is pretty well known around Bayport, and a lot of kids just automatically figured we were on the case. That made it hard to keep a low profile, which is how we normally like to operate. People were peppering us with questions, but we were playing dumb (which is easier for Joe than it is for me) and only worrying about the Bayport High kids who might be relevant to the mystery.
As soon as both Joe and I had a free period, we sat down in the cafeteria to go over our notes and eat some lunch. I opened my case file notebook to the pages labeled “Potential Suspects” and “Possible Material Witnesses,” and we started running down the names.
Our hippy-dippy drama teacher Mr. Carr and our troubled classmate Amir Kahn both made the “Potential Suspects” list. Mr. Carr had played a Colonial officer in the reenactment. He’d been pretty bitter about the Don and his deep pockets beating him out for the lead role in the last Bayport Players stage production. Every kid who’d had a class with him had heard his rant on the capitalistic corruption of artistic integrity in the local theater.
Amir had been an infantryman, and both his parents had lost their jobs when Sterling Industries pulled the plug on the furniture factory. He’d had a really hard time of it since the layoffs, sliding from academic all-American to detention.
Calvin Givens was another classmate who made the list. He hadn’t participated in the reenactment, so he wasn’t really a suspect, but he did have a distinct dishonor that no one else shared: He was Don Sterling’s stepson, making him a “Possible Material Witness” we most definitely had to talk to. We were probably going to have to wait to interview him, though. I doubted we’d see him in school the day after his stepfather’s murder.
We’d just gotten started breaking down each person of interest on the list when I noticed Joe’s face go slack. I looked up and saw why: Jen and Daphne had just walked in the cafeteria door.
“Oh man, I totally forgot about our date at the diner last night,” Joe said, putting his face in his hands.
I had forgotten too, but then again, I had a lot less to lose than Joe did. It’s not like Daphne would have missed me. I really wanted things to work out for Joe and Jen, though, so I hoped she would forgive the date flake.
“I’m sure she’ll understand,” I assured him, hoping I was right. “I think yesterday’s plans probably went off the rails for just about everybody after the Don turned up dead.”
We were about to find out whether Jen understood. She was headed straight for us. I could sense Joe tensing up next to me. As Jen got closer to our table, she burst into a big smile, and Joe let out a big sigh of relief.
“Hey, Jen,” he said, returning her smile with a goofy grin of his own.
“Hey, guys,” she said. “We missed you at the diner last night.”
“Oh, yeah, well, um, I, it, uh . . . ,” Joe fumbled for something to say. I decided to step in to try to save him.
“Things kind of got a little crazy yesterday, you know, with all the excitement after the reenactment,” I said, trying not to go into too much detail about the specific nature of our excitement.
“You think we could get a rain check for tonight, maybe?” Jen asked Joe.
Joe smiled. “Definitely. That would be awesome.”
“Hey, so everybody is saying that you guys were the ones who discovered the body. Is it true?” Daphne asked me, all excited. She was actually talking to me. That was a first. I guess she wasn’t mute after all. The juicy gossip must have cured her.
“You guys are, like, detectives, right? So you’re totally investigating the murder, yeah?” Daphne sped right ahead without even waiting for an answer. “Oh my God, that is so cool!”
Okay, so maybe I did have a chance with Daphne after all. Sometimes being an amateur detective has its perks.
Jen didn’t seem to share her friend’s excitement. At all. Her smile had vanished entirely.
“Why are you even bothering? It’s not like anybody really cares that Don Sterling is dead,” she said coldly. It was the first time I’d seen Jen Griffin be anything but sweet.
Joe was totally caught off guard too. He actually looked hurt. Joe is a fun-loving guy, but he takes our investigating seriously, and the girl he dug had just dismissed it as a waste of time. This was a side of Jen neither of us had seen before. We had known that something had gone down between Don Sterling and Jen’s dad, but we didn’t have any of the details. Whatever it was, she obviously didn’t have any sympathy for the Don’s plight.
“Come on, Daph, let’s go. We have study group,” she ordered Daphne.
“Oh, um, okay.” Daphne seemed just as surprised by her friend’s behavior as we were. “We’ll see you guys later, yeah? Good luck with the investigation!”
Jen grabbed Daphne by the arm and was about to drag her away when she saw the page on the table labeled “Potential Suspects.” I tried to casually close the notebook, but she’d already seen everything she needed to. The fifth name down was Mikey Griffin. Her brother.
“You leave my brother alone!” she yelled at Joe, loud enough that people at some of the other tables looked up to see what was going on. She realized she was causing a scene and flushed with embarrassment. She lowered her voice, trying to keep it calm, but the edge was still there when she started talking again.
“My brother didn’t have anything to do with it. If you go around calling him a murderer, he could lose his football scholarship. Sterling already did enough damage to my family when he was alive. Don’t you dare let him mess things up more. Leave Mikey out of it. Just stay away from him.”
It wasn’t a request.
“But, Jen, we—” Joe started to protest.
Jen quickly shu
t him up. “And you can stay away from me, too, while you’re at it.”
GRUDGE MATCH
10
JOE
SHELL-SHOCKED. THAT’S ABOUT HOW I felt after Jen reamed me out about our investigation and stormed off like I had just stepped on her favorite puppy.
“I guess that means our date is off for tonight,” I said to Frank as I watched Jen drag Daphne behind her out of the cafeteria. Daphne gave us a weak smile and shrugged her shoulders in confusion as the cafeteria doors slammed shut.
“Well, that was . . . unexpected,” Frank said with his usual flair for understatement.
A slap in the face would have been unexpected. Jen’s sudden outburst felt more like a bombshell. It had simultaneously managed to turn both my love life and our case on their heads. I had been worried about Mikey’s name coming up and maybe messing things up with Jen and me—I was used to our detective work getting in the way of my love life for one reason or another—but I hadn’t expected this. Jen’s reaction to our investigation into the Don’s murder was . . . well, suspicious is what it was.
I mean, sure, any girl might be upset if they found out their brother was a murder suspect, but Jen hadn’t even given me a chance to explain. She’d just flipped out. And she obviously had a serious grudge against Don Sterling already. She had turned on us as soon as Daphne said we were investigating the murder, before she even saw Mikey’s name.
I hoped that it would turn out to be nothing and Jen and I could rewind things and start fresh. I wasn’t optimistic, though. I cringed at the thought of adding her name to the “Possible Material Witnesses” list, but the bad blood between the Griffin family and Don Sterling was obvious. Obvious enough that we weren’t going to have any choice but to look into it. Our dad taught us that you have to follow the evidence wherever it leads. Sometimes it’s a harder lesson to swallow than others. So far, this case was leading Frank and me all kinds of places we didn’t really want to go.
“You okay, man? Why do you think she totally lost it?” Frank asked.
I didn’t know, but I had a hunch we were about to find out. Someone else had just come through the cafeteria doors, and they were lumbering toward us like they had something they wanted to discuss. Unfortunately, sometimes Mikey Griffin preferred to do the discussing with his fists.
“Uh-oh,” Frank said as Mikey made his way across the cafeteria with a scowl on his mean mug and his broad linebacker’s shoulders hunched like a gorilla’s.
“Do you think Jen would have sicced her brother on us?” I asked Frank in disbelief.
This wouldn’t be the first time someone had tried to intimidate us off a case, but until five minutes ago I’d been thinking of Jen Griffin as my future girlfriend. Those warm and fuzzy feelings were starting to get room temperature real quick.
Mikey had the physique, strength, and speed of a top football prospect. Which is exactly what he was. He also had a real short temper when it came to protecting his little sister. In other words, he could be getting ready to do some serious damage. I took some comfort in the fact that he was confronting us without his usual entourage—the entire Bayport High defensive line—there to get his back. He was still going to be a handful all by himself, though, even against the mighty Hardy boys tag team.
It was this kind of situation where our silent shorthand comes in useful. Frank looked at me and I nodded back.
We braced ourselves for a fight. We weren’t expecting a confession.
CAFETERIA CONFESSIONAL
11
FRANK
JOE NODDED AT ME, AND we both zoned in on Mikey. If he tried anything, I’d go left and Joe would go right, dividing Mikey’s attention while keeping the table between us as a barrier to give us extra time to talk some sense into him. Not that Mikey Griffin was known for his good sense.
A few seconds later he stood towering over our table, looking down at us, not saying a word. Joe and I both tensed, hoping it wouldn’t come to that, but ready to defend ourselves if we had to. Nothing happened, though. Mikey just stood there looking thuggishly uncomfortable.
Now, Mikey may not be the sharpest bulb in the deck, but he was rarely at a loss for words. The guy usually ran his mouth nonstop. On the field, in the halls, in class, and naturally, in detention. His silence as he stood looming over us was unnerving. It didn’t seem like some kind of intimidation tactic, though. It seemed, well, it just seemed awkward. Big, brash Mikey Griffin looked like the one who was intimidated.
“Hey, guys,” Mikey finally said without meeting our eyes.
Joe and I exchanged perplexed looks.
“Um, hey, Mikey,” I said uncertainly.
“So, like, how’s it going?” Mikey asked.
“Uh, it’s going okay, Mikey,” Joe said, and gave me another confused look. “Is there something we can help you with?”
“So you guys are, like, investigating Mr. Sterling’s murder, right?” Mikey asked.
“Um, yeah,” Joe replied cautiously. Here it comes, I thought, but my gut’s natural fight-or-flight instinct didn’t seem all that concerned. Something was off. It was really weird that Mikey referred to the Don as Mr. Sterling, for one. He was talking about the guy responsible for ruining his family’s lives, according to Jen. What was Mikey’s angle?
“Oh, okay, cool,” Mikey said, nervously looking over his shoulder like somebody might be spying on him. “Um, do you guys think it would be okay if we, like, talked in private somewhere?”
Joe and I hesitated. If Mikey did want to fight us, following him to some dark corner of the school where there were no witnesses—or easy access to medical attention—was probably a bad idea.
“I’m not sure that’s such a good idea,” Joe said, trying to be diplomatic.
“Oh, okay. You guys are probably really busy with the investigation and all, huh?” Mikey looked all humbled and started fidgeting. “It’s just that Jen would be really mad at me if she saw me talking to you guys. I, uh, I hid until she left the cafeteria so she wouldn’t see me.”
Now this was getting interesting. Mikey was afraid of his harmless (or so I’d thought until a few minutes ago) little sister. She hadn’t sent Mikey after us. He had come to us behind her back. Either that or this was some bizarre ploy to lure us into an ambush. I didn’t think Mikey had any intention of strong-arming us, though. The Mikey standing in front of us seemed more like a gentle giant than an ill-willed enforcer, and he didn’t sound like a guy who was about to beat us to a pulp. He sounded like a guy who was in trouble and needed our help.
“I was going to tell the police, but Jen wouldn’t let me, and she wouldn’t want me talking to you about it either, but I had to tell someone and you guys seem cool, so, uh, yeah, but if you don’t have time, that’s cool too, I guess,” Mikey said as he turned to leave, looking rejected. “Sorry for bothering you.”
That sealed it. We both jumped up at the same time to stop him from going. Whatever it was Mikey needed help with was something we most definitely needed to hear.
A couple of minutes later the three of us were seated outside on a bench around the corner from the cafeteria.
“So you know about my dad, right?” Mikey asked, and launched into his story without waiting for an answer.
“He was supposed to be promoted at the factory, before it closed, I mean. He was going to get a big raise and stock and stuff. He had a contract signed by Mr. Sterling and everything. The bank gave him a big loan because of it, and we got a new house and it was really nice, but then the factory closed all of a sudden and he lost his job and he couldn’t pay the bank. My dad told Mr. Sterling he had to honor the contract, and Mr. Sterling just laughed at him, and I guess my dad kind of snapped and punched him. It was a stupid thing to do, but after losing his job and the house and everything, I guess he just had enough, you know? Mr. Sterling wasn’t really hurt or anything, not bad at least, and he could have dropped the charges, but he wouldn’t. My mom even tried pleading with him, but he just laughed at her, t
oo. My dad had to spend some time in jail for assaulting him, and now he has a record. He was going to be a vice president and now he can’t even get a job at all anymore. It really sucks.”
No wonder Jen didn’t have much sympathy for Don Sterling. The guy really had done a number on her family. That wasn’t all, though. Mikey needed someone to talk to, and we were ready to listen. Some people think interrogating a suspect is all about being a hard case and grilling the guy, but sometimes to be a good detective you also have to be a good therapist—a lot of times the best way to get information is to just keep your mouth shut and let the patient unload. And unload Mikey did.
“The truth is I wanted to shoot him,” he admitted matter-of-factly. I think my jaw dropped open. No wonder Jen didn’t want him talking to us. He was about to confess!
“At least I thought I did. I was happy when I pulled the trigger and he fell down like he’d been shot. It felt good. Like sometimes during a football game, I pretend the quarterback is really Mr. Sterling, and when I sack him it feels even better than just a regular sack, because it’s kind of like getting a little bit of revenge, even if it’s just pretend. Seeing him on the ground at the reenactment was kind of like that. Only it turned out that he wasn’t pretending, and it didn’t feel so good anymore. It felt worse than anything. Like I’d been the one who killed him.”
Mikey ran out of steam and buried his head in his hands, racked with guilt. Joe and I were both literally on the edge of our seats. There was a chance the whole case could be wrapped up right there.
“Were you? The one who killed him?” I blurted.
“I—I don’t know,” Mike said, shaking his head.
The Battle of Bayport Page 5