Howard Wallace, P.I._Shadow of a Pug

by Casey Lyall

  Miles sighed and shook his head. “I knew this would be a waste of time. I don’t know what I was expecting.”

  “Wait,” I said as he turned to walk away. Miles looked as surprised as I felt to hear that word pop out. Ivy was right. I should have gone to the doctor.

  “Your captain,” I said slowly.

  “Oscar,” Miles supplied.

  “We need to talk to him, and I’d rather not go through a whole basketball team to do it. You want to help? Get us introduced.”

  Miles nodded with growing enthusiasm. “I can do that. I can definitely do that.”

  “Fine. Great,” I said. “I’ll see you at lunch.”

  He started forward and then took a step back. “See you, Howard,” Miles said before taking off at a jog toward the school.

  I stood by Ivy’s locker, chewing the run-in with Miles over in my brain. Letting him help felt like a mistake as soon as he’d left. I’d be an idiot to trust him. And yet, if he could ease our access to the team, why not make use of that? I checked out the clock on the wall. Five minutes until the bell. Hopefully my partner showed up soon, or I’d have no time to fill her in on this new development.

  She erupted through the side door with a bang, rushing down the hall in a flurry of bags, coat, and limbs, and made a beeline for her locker. “Glad you’re alive,” I said as I propped up a slice of wall beside her.

  “What?” She looked up from emptying her bag and the connection sparked in her eyes. “We were supposed to meet. I’m so sorry,” Ivy said. She was breathless, and her hair was flying out of a messy bun. “Weird night. I slept in. Got in a fight with my dad—”

  “Did he forget to drink his orange juice again?” I laughed.

  “Something like that.” Ivy shrugged off her coat and flung it inside the depths of her locker. “Anyway, it made me super-late, and my grandma had to drive me here. This Tuesday is such a Monday.”

  “Tell me about it. Miles tried to bribe his way into the case this morning.”

  “You’re kidding.”

  “I wish I was. He had a fistful of cash to prove it.”

  “Seriously?”

  “Well, maybe more like a fingerful, but same idea.”

  She grabbed a pack of Juicy from her pocket and popped a piece. “What’d you say?” she asked, handing the pack over.

  I busied myself with snagging a couple of pieces and carefully sliding the pack neatly back in its case.

  “Oh, Howard. You didn’t take his money, did you?”

  “What? No.” Snapping a piece of gum between my teeth, I tossed the pack into the bag Ivy was still rummaging through. “Imayhavesaidhecouldhelp,” I muttered.

  “Say that again?” Ivy paused mid-dig.

  “He kept asking to help, and he actually can help in certain areas, so I thought: keep your friends close and your enemies closer. At least this way, if he’s involved, we can keep an eye on him.”

  “You aren’t allowed to walk to school by yourself anymore,” she said, stuffing her bag onto the small shelf.

  “And whose fault was that?”

  Ivy grabbed a couple of books before slamming her locker shut and turning to face me. “It’s ridiculous.”

  “I realize it’s not my best executive decision, but ridiculous is a little harsh. You were the one who said I needed to learn to deal with running into him. ‘Consider a second chance’ and all that?”

  “No, not you ridiculous,” she said. “Well, a little you, but I meant Miles. How he’s treated you this past year? Has he forgotten yesterday?” We headed down the hallway together. “He comes up with a plan and you’re just supposed to roll with it? Who does he think he is? How many chances does he think he gets?”

  There. That was the killer backup I needed this morning.

  “You can’t be in someone’s life whenever it’s convenient for you,” Ivy said, building up some steam. “Make plans and expect them to fall in line.”

  “Where’s Miles?” I looked around. “He’s missing all the good stuff now. We should write this down.”

  “Right,” Ivy said, blinking up at me. “Miles. I’m going to be watching him like a hawk. One little sneer and he’s out.”

  “Sounds completely reasonable to me,” I said.

  “What’s the plan for today?” she asked, juggling the books in her hands.

  “Tracking down Oscar, Mr. Team Captain,” I said. “Asking pointed questions. Getting some answers.”

  “All good ideas,” Ivy said, narrowing her eyes. “What the heck is that?”

  I followed her gaze to a poster hanging up outside our classroom, advertising the Grudge Game. “I guess they have to sell tickets somehow.”

  She marched over to the wall and ripped the sign down. “Or not,” I said. “We could suggest the face-to-face approach to them.”

  “Look what they did,” Ivy pointed to the wall. The Grudge Game sign had been covering up another poster. A meticulously hand-decorated one for the Arts Council bake sale. Ivy must have spotted the sparkles creeping out around the sides. “There’s plenty of wall to go around,” she grumbled. “This is ridiculous.”

  “Mr. Williams probably had one of the newbies put it up,” I said. “They saw that one and thought: This where signs go. Shiny. Put sign here. Honest mistake.”

  “Ha. Ha.” Ivy crumpled up the offending paper and tossed it in the recycling bucket as we entered our classroom. It hit the rim and rolled across the floor.

  Ms. Kowalski looked up from her desk, eyes glinting at the opportunity to shed the morning’s first blood. “Howard Wallace,” she barked. “Kindly refrain from littering in my classroom.” A purple-painted talon extended, its razor-sharp edge pointing at the incriminating piece of refuse. Ivy waggled her eyebrows at me and scuttled over to her seat. Lucky escape. I could argue the accusation, but when it came to Ms. Kowalski, I’d rather lose a battle to win the war.

  With an admirable amount of restraint, I held back a smart reply, picked up the paper, and placed it in the bin. Once I was seated, I pulled my notebook out of my pocket and flipped to the back. As the frequency of my run-ins with my homeroom teacher increased throughout the year, I’d thought it would be best to start keeping track. Records always came in handy. I put a tick under Ms. Kowalski’s name, then did a quick tally. And smiled.

  I was still ahead by two.

  Chapter Thirteen

  From an investigative standpoint, the cafeteria had its fair share of strengths and weaknesses. The noise and general chaos provided ample coverage for a stealth chat. But when you crossed social boundary lines to have that chat, stealth went out the window.

  Stares dogged our every move as we met up with Miles by the bake sale table. Ashi looked more than a little curious, and she wasn’t alone.

  “People are looking at us,” Miles murmured.

  “Feel free to leave,” Ivy said.

  “No.” He squared his shoulders. “We’re doing this. Come on.” Miles led the way over to the basketball team’s table, ignoring the whispers as he dodged a few pointed looks.

  The team was crowded around their table, with Oscar reigning from the end. His rangy limbs were draped over his seat as he studiously ignored our approach.

  Miles stepped up first and whispered a few words to him. Oscar frowned and shook his head.

  “Oh, yes, he’s very helpful,” Ivy said to me. Miles kept talking, and I made a mental note to add lipreading to our training manual. My partner was right: this wasn’t working. I moved forward just as Miles straightened up.

  “For Carl,” he said, and Oscar nodded. Miles waved us over. Ivy and I slid out a couple of extra chairs along the way and pulled up the seats beside the captain. Miles clapped him on the shoulder and left to go buy lunch. The rest of the players inched their chairs away from us, and Oscar scoffed. “Thanks, guys.”

  “Didn’t get a chance to talk with you yesterday, Oscar,” I said, pulling out my notes from the day before.

  Oscar glanced at us and the
n concentrated on his sandwich. “You seemed busy,” he said. “Bleeding all over our court.”

  “That did actually take up a lot of time,” Ivy agreed.

  “You’re the captain,” I said. “You know your guys better than anyone. Think any of them could’ve taken Spartacus?”

  Oscar’s sharp eyes cut down the line at the table. “No,” he said. “No way.”

  “Really.” I tapped my pen again my notebook. “Not even someone like, for instance, Miles?”

  “What?” Oscar snapped his head up and scowled.

  “Wanted to make sure you were listening,” I said.

  Ivy leaned in, whisper-singing in my ear, “Focus.”

  “Okay, fine,” I said, waving her away. “None of your teammates. Let’s look at the next logical option: the Stoverton Stallions.”

  “The Stallions?” Oscar looked warily at us, and Ivy bounced in her seat.

  “You didn’t do the thing,” she said.

  “What thing?”

  “The spitting thing everyone does,” Ivy said, pointing at the team who were, in fact, midspit. She set her elbows on the table and squinted at Oscar. “Got some warm fuzzies for Stoverton, buddy?”

  “I think it’s dumb to hate a whole town, if that’s what you mean,” Oscar said, hunched over in his chair. “I have friends who live in Stoverton.”

  Now we were getting to it. “Yes,” I said. “Captain of the Stoverton Stallions–type friends.”

  Oscar sighed. “Jake and I’ve been friends for a lot longer than we’ve been on opposite teams. What’s your point?”

  “Heard you’re thinking about making a switch,” Ivy said. She was met with silence.

  “If you’re going to play for a new team,” I said, “might as well be the one with the bragging rights. Isn’t Stoverton having a pretty good season this year?”

  “I wouldn’t do that to the guys.” Oscar set his jaw and doubled down on his sandwich.

  We were losing him. Time to barrel through the rest of the questions before we were forcibly relocated back to our natural habitat in the undesirable sector of the cafeteria.

  “You know Stoverton—you hang with their team,” I said. “Any of them recently acquire a dog?”

  “You think I wouldn’t recognize if one of them started walking around with Spartacus?” Oscar paused mid-drink, nostrils flaring. “These are the kinds of questions you ask? How do you solve any cases?”

  “What about Captain Jake? He planning anything extra special for the Grudge Game?”

  “He’s not like that,” Oscar said, shaking his head. “I’ve known Jake since we were five. He’s like my brother.”

  “A long history isn’t exactly a solid alibi,” Ivy said.

  “We were hanging out on Tuesday,” Oscar said. “There’s no way it was him.”

  “Maybe he was distracting you,” I said. “Did he say anything strange or—”

  An odd look crossed Oscar’s face.

  “What? What did you think of?”

  “Nothing,” he said.

  “If you thought of it,” Ivy said. “It’s not nothing.”

  Oscar leaned down, lowering his voice. “Jake was talking about a kid on his team,” he said. “He’s into pranks, and he drives Jake crazy. He kept talking to everyone on the team about pulling something for the Grudge Game, but Jake said they talked him out of it.”

  Very successfully, it looked like.

  “When do the Stallions practice?”

  “Usually a couple of times a week, but they’re practicing every day to get ready for Saturday.” Oscar narrowed his eyes at us. “Why?”

  “Gathering the facts,” I said. We thanked Oscar for the chat and started back across the cafeteria.

  “Stoverton,” Ivy said.

  “Stoverton.” I nodded. “Motive, opportunity, means—they’ve got it all. It’s definitely an ideal Grudge Game prank.”

  “Okay, so they tick all the boxes, but we need more than that,” Ivy said, plopping down at an empty table.

  I sat beside her and we pulled out our lunches, chewing in silence.

  “We have to go there,” I said, a plan already forming.

  “To Stoverton?”

  “Yes. We have to go look for clues. Find Spartacus, if we’re really lucky.”

  “We’re never that lucky,” Ivy said. “How do you plan on getting there?”

  That was an excellent question. Our parents were out. We couldn’t ask for help without inviting scrutiny and having to confess to violating our strict operating hours. Grantleyville had no public bus system. A cab would cost an arm and a leg. Options, Howard, options.

  Zeroing in on the back corner, I spotted Carl sitting with Miles at a lonely table.

  “I’ll be right back,” I called over my shoulder to Ivy. I swerved around the packed room and made my way to their spot. Despite the crowd, they had a bubble of empty chairs around them. No one wanted to associate with a suspected dognapper—aside from Miles, and I still didn’t know what to make of that. Tamping down on a flare of—jealousy?—I pulled up a seat beside Carl and plopped down.

  “What happened to being subtle?” he muttered around his sandwich.

  “There’s no time for that,” I said, holding out a hand. “We’ve got more important things to take care of. Do you have your phone?”

  “Why?” Carl frowned. Part of me admired his level of suspicion. He’d make a good P.I.

  Straight shooting seemed like my best bet. “Because,” I said, sitting up and looking Carl dead in the eye, “I need a ride.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  “What do you mean you can’t go to Stoverton?” I shut my locker and faced my partner, still trying to process the words coming out of her mouth.

  “It’s Tuesday,” she said. “I have Drama Club after school.”

  “Why are you still going to that? You were undercover,” I said. “For a case. That’s closed!”

  “I told you, I like it.” Ivy shrugged. “And I don’t want to miss the meeting. We’re talking about plans for a new field trip since our other one was canceled.”

  “We have more important things than hobbies right now,” I said, “like an active case that needs some serious legwork.”

  “I’m not going to drop it because you think your plans take priority,” Ivy said. “Plans you made without checking with me. How was I supposed to know you were going to jump all over a Stoverton visit today?”

  “I said—”

  “Be right back. That’s what you said. Nothing about this big brain wave.” Ivy sighed. “I’m still going to work the case with you.”

  “Yes, that’s what—”

  “But I’m going to Drama Club. I’ll be back on the clock tomorrow.” She turned and walked down the hall, leaving me to stew. What was the point of having a partner if she wandered off whenever she felt like it?

  Wait a minute. Ivy never specified when she’d be back on the clock. I didn’t want to be left hanging again tomorrow morning. I jogged down the hall after her. Rounding the corner to the next hallway, I spotted her outside the door to the Drama Club room talking to Mrs. Pamuk, the club’s advisor.

  “I know you’ve got a lot on your plate,” Mrs. Pamuk said to Ivy, holding out a white envelope, “but this is important. Please don’t forget.”

  Ivy nodded and took the envelope out of Mrs. Pamuk’s hands. She tucked it away in her bag, heading down the hallway. I stopped myself from calling out to her when I realized she was walking out of the building. So much for Drama Club.

  Keeping my distance, I crept down the hallway after her. Two could play at the stealth game. Ivy pushed open the doors and hurried across the yard. She was already halfway down the block by the time I made it to the sidewalk. I was about to start after her when a car began honking relentlessly. Looking around for the source, I spotted Marvin parked in an alley beside the schoolyard. He rolled down the window of his ancient VW Bug and waved me over while honking a few more times for good measure.<
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  As I walked toward Marvin’s car, someone fell into step beside me. Carl. “Thought you could use some backup,” he said.

  Actually, not a bad idea. The Stoverton team might need some extra convincing to talk to me. Having a bruiser like Carl along for the ride could help things along. “Sounds like a plan,” I said, opening up the car door. “Backup gets the backseat, though.”

  Footsteps pounded along the pavement, and I looked up to see Miles running over. “Hey,” he said, panting. “Sorry I’m late.”

  “Pretty sure you can’t be late to something you weren’t invited to,” I said.

  “You said I could help.” Miles frowned as he leaned on Marvin’s car to catch his breath.

  A sharp honk split the air, and we both jumped. “Off the car!” Marvin shouted out the window. Miles rolled his eyes but took a step away.

  “I said you could help with one thing, and you did. Good job,” I said. “Your cookie’s in the mail.”

  “Not so fast,” Miles said. “You need me on this. Ever been to Stoverton? Know your way around the school? Because

  I do. I’ve been there on away games.”

  “So has Carl,” I said. We both looked over at Carl, who remained predictably silent. Miles pressed on, unwilling to let facts deter him from his argument.

  “You could use an extra set of eyes,” he said. “The longer you’re there, the bigger risk you have of getting caught. If I help, we could be in and out.”

  “Some of us have better things to do with our precious time left on this earth than wait for a couple of punks to get into a dang car,” Marvin hollered.

  Miles shuffled his feet and looked down at me in a silent plea. It would take two of them to make up for one missing Ivy. I was going to regret this. I could feel it.

  “I’m in charge,” I said. “You got that?”

  Miles nodded, and Marvin pulled the seat forward for Carl to climb in. “Finally,” Marvin groaned. “Me and Marv Junior have been waiting forever out here.”

  “You named your car ‘Marv Junior’?” I yanked the door shut, feeling the rattle in my teeth.