Anyway, at the moment Mikey looked angry. He saw me standing there and hurried over.
“Ripley’s a cheat!” he burst out.
“Huh?” I knew he liked potato chips. Was he really holding that much of a grudge about Ripley for eating one that morning?
He was practically quivering with outrage. “I was just heading in there to, uh …” He shot me a side-long glance. “Well, I heard you might be thinking of depriving us of TV, so, you know …”
He looked momentarily sheepish. It didn’t take an undercover agent to figure out he’d been planning to complain about me.
“Anyway,” he went on, his fury returning quickly, “Ripley was coming out just as I was going in. And when I got inside, I swear I smelled food—real food. Cooked food. Not just gross tuna sandwiches.” He scowled, glancing over his shoulder at the chamber. “I think she was eating in there!”
Suspicious Behavior
When Frank told me about Mikey’s accusation, I couldn’t really get too worked up about it. “So Ripley was sneaking some pasta or whatever,” I said. “So what? Her parents probably bribed the producers or something. That Sylvia chick would probably do it for fifty bucks.”
Frank shrugged. “Maybe. Still, it’s one more thing to add to the list of suspicious behavior.”
“Good point. Besides, the rest of our suspect list is pretty weak.”
Something else was weak too. Frank. Specifically, the way he couldn’t see that Brynn didn’t really care about him. But I tried not to think about that. Frank and I were here to do a job—I couldn’t let his total cluelessness about girls get in the way.
Just then someone pounded on the door of the bathroom. “Hey!” It was James, of course. All those cuts in his mouth hadn’t made him any quieter. “Hurry up in there!”
That was the end of our private discussion. We left the bathroom and parted ways.
SUSPECT PROFILE
Name: Ripley Lansing
Hometown: Malibu, California
Physical description: 5’10”, 140 lbs., brown hair, blue eyes.
Occupation: High school student/celebrity heiress
Background: Rock star dad, CEO mom. Two brothers. Ripley is the family’s black sheep and wild child.
Suspicious behavior: Might be in cahoots with veronica and/or the producers.
Suspected of: Causing mayhem in the house for ratings.
Possible motive: Could be going along with the producers’ plans in exchange for a sympathetic edit on the show-which would help her convince her parents not to cut off her funds.
I was still thinking about Ripley. We’d been suspicious of her all along. But we hadn’t done much about it. Maybe it was time to change that.
I found her in the kitchen. She was chopping up some lettuce and stuff.
“Hey,” I greeted her. “What are you doing?”
“What does it look like?” She flipped her long hair over her shoulder and shot me a glance. “It takes a long time to fix food for twelve people, you know.”
“Yeah.” I slid onto one of the barstools at the counter. “Sorry I can’t offer to help you. But I can hang out and give you some moral support if you want.”
“Are you really that bored?”
I grinned. “Actually, I’m sort of avoiding someone.”
“Really?” She tossed a handful of lettuce into a big salad bowl. “Let me guess—your long-lost brother, right? Is he trying to make you feel guilty for having nice things? I get that all the time.”
“Yeah, he’s a pain in the neck. But that’s not it this time.” I shrugged. “Actually, it’s Mikey. He’s been complaining all afternoon ‘cause he smelled food in the Deprivation Chamber.” I chuckled. “Guess it drove him nuts.”
“Hmm.” Ripley wiped off her knife, then started slicing a tomato.
“Hey, come to think of it, he said you were in there too. Did you smell anything, or is Mikey just hallucinating from hunger?” I was careful to keep my voice casual.
Ripley shot me a sharp look. “Let me guess,” she snapped. “Mikey’s going around telling everyone I was sneaking food in there, right? And the others sent you in to try to find out if it’s true?”
Oops. Not casual enough, I guess. “Um, no, that’s not it, I … ,” I stammered.
“Well, Mikey is the sneaky one if you ask me!” She frowned. “Just this morning I caught him huddled in the girls’ shower when nobody was around. He acted really weird about it too.” She rolled her eyes. “Either he’s the world’s stupidest Peeping Tom, or he’s up to something else.”
“Really?” My mind flashed back to the times Frank and I had come across Mikey in odd places. It was looking more and more like a pattern.
The click-click of high heels on tile broke into my thoughts. Veronica swooped into the room.
“Sorry to interrupt,” she said briskly, as usual not sounding sorry at all. “Ms. Lansing, I need you to come with me to the Deprivation Chamber, please. We’d like you to make some remarks about your punishment.”
“Whatever.” Ripley wiped off her hands on a towel. Then she followed Veronica out of the kitchen.
I trailed along behind them. I wasn’t sure whether to believe what Ripley had just said about Mikey. But if it was true, I wanted to find out more.
They were just disappearing into the chamber when I got there. I hung around just outside, figuring it would only take a few minutes to record their little Q & A.
But I was wrong. Ten minutes passed, then fifteen. How much could Ripley have to say about cooking, anyway?
Weird, I thought, remembering Mikey’s accusation. Maybe I would just have to go in there when Ripley came out and see what I could smell. I still wasn’t sure what sneaking food could possibly have to do with the other stuff going on in the house. But if that’s what she was doing in there, it now seemed that Veronica was involved. It was more than a little weird that the host was still in there with Ripley. Normally Veronica wasn’t supposed to hear what anyone said inside the Deprivation Chamber—those comments weren’t supposed to influence her decision about who to kick out. So what were they doing in there?
I had plenty of time to think about it. It was a good half hour before the door opened again and Veronica and Ripley came out. By then I’d come up with a theory or two.
Veronica spotted me right away. “Mr. Carr,” she said. “You appear not to have enough to do.”
“Oh, um, no,” I said. “I just wanted to go in there.” I took a step toward the chamber. “Uh, see, my so-called brother keeps griping about how my sneakers were more expensive than his whole house, and I really need to vent about it.”
I figured that would do the trick. The producers love any whiff of interpersonal drama. Isn’t that what reality TV is all about?
But Veronica didn’t seem impressed. “That can wait.” She stepped into my path, neatly blocking me from getting any closer to the chamber. “Right now, I’ll have to ask you to come with me. There are some boxes you can help me bring up from the storeroom.”
By the time everyone started talking about getting ready for bed, I could tell that Frank was stressing. We met up in the supply closet for a quick rendezvous.
I filled him in on my chat with Ripley and what had happened afterward. “What if she’s in cahoots with the producers?” I finished. “Like Olivia said, maybe they’re afraid the show won’t be dramatic enough if they don’t spice things up.”
“Seems kind of nuts, but I guess you never know.” Frank seemed a little distracted. “But listen, I still haven’t figured out what to do tomorrow. Any deprivation I pick is going to make someone freak out.”
“Yeah. Except maybe the new girl, Gail Digby,” I joked. “The way she talks, even the air we breathe is a luxury.”
Frank blinked. “Hey, that reminds me,” he said. “Brynn told me something kind of interesting about Gail.”
I couldn’t help it. I winced a little when he said Brynn’s name. “Oh yeah?” I tried not to show I was b
othered. “What?”
“Olivia told her that Gail’s dad went to jail for arson a few years back.”
“Yeah, well, Olivia would say just about anything to win,” I pointed out. “She’s probably getting desperate, since her little alliance isn’t working out so well.” Earlier in the game, Olivia had approached Frank about forming an alliance. She’d also wanted to include this guy Wilson, who dropped out shortly afterward.
Frank nodded. “Still, if it’s true, it adds a wrinkle,” he said. “Think about it. Nobody needs that prize money more than Gail. It would be life-changing for her.”
“It would be life-changing for me, too. I could finally trade in my motorcycle for that Porsche we saw at the car show last month.”
“Focus, Joe.” Frank sounded every inch the stuffy big brother. “You know we’re not here for that. Anyway, this new round of mischief started around the same time Gail came into the game.”
He had a point. “Yeah,” I said thoughtfully. “And this time it is just mischief. Well, aside from that glass ice incident …” Would Gail really do something like that? Who could say? We really didn’t know these people at all. “Plus, don’t forget Gail was the one who tattled on Ripley during the challenge this morning,” I added. “She could be trying to take out the competition any way she can. But could she have sent everyone those threatening letters way back when?”
“Maybe. Depends on whether she knew from the beginning that she was joining the show.” Frank shrugged. “Either way, let’s keep an eye on her.”
“Got it.” I nodded. “So it’s looking like Ripley, Mikey, and Gail are our top suspects. Plus maybe Veronica and the producers, though I really can’t see them pulling that ice trick.”
“Yeah.” Frank checked his watch. “We don’t want to stay in here too long. If Ripley has been noticing Mikey skulking around, she might start to wonder about us, too. Maybe we can talk about this more tomorrow.”
We left the closet and headed upstairs. When we passed the girls’ bathroom, the door was open, and I looked in. Call it a reflex.
“Oh my God!” I choked out. “Brynn!”
Brynn looked up at me from over near the sink. Her eyes were wide and her face pale. The rest of her was covered in blood.
Double Trouble
I followed Joe as he raced into the bathroom. “What happened?” I asked Brynn.
She held up both hands and stared at them. They were slick and red with blood.
“I—I was just going to brush my hair,” she said, seeming stunned.
Luckily, Joe and I are trained to handle people in just these sorts of situations. He took her by the shoulder and gently pushed her down onto the vanity bench. Meanwhile I was already grabbing a washcloth off the towel rack. Whoever it belonged to probably wouldn’t be happy, but oh well.
“Where’s the blood coming from?” I asked. She was still staring at her hands, and I guessed that was my answer. There was no blood at all on her face or neck; it was mostly on her hands and running down her arms. Some had also dripped onto her shirt and jeans.
“I—I stuck my hands into my makeup bag without looking—I just wanted to grab my brush.” She gestured toward a large pink fabric case on the counter. The movement made more blood pulse out of her hand. I grabbed it and started trying to stop the flow. “Something inside cut me.”
Joe hurried over and looked into the bag. “Knives,” he said grimly. “There are, like, five steak knives stuck in here, sharp end up.”
“That would do it.” I dabbed at Brynn’s hands with the washcloth, which was already soaked. “Call the medics, Joe.”
“No!” Brynn looked alarmed. “I’ll be okay. The bleeding’s already stopping. I’ll just wash off and put some bandages on the cuts.”
Joe was still peering into the makeup bag. “Who would do something like this?” he murmured. I shot him a look, not wanting him to do too much thinking aloud in front of Brynn.
But at the moment I was more concerned for Brynn than I was about the case. “You could be going into shock,” I told her. “You really should let the medics take a look.”
“No, seriously. I’m okay now. I was just surprised, that’s all.” To prove her point, she stood up and went over to the sink. She started washing off the blood. “The cuts aren’t even that deep. And I’m tougher than I look.” She forced a smile.
“I’ll, uh, go get some more bandages from the supply closet,” Joe offered. On his way out, he shot me a meaningful look. I guessed he was going to check out where everybody was and who might have planted the knives.
I probably should have done the same. But I was still too worried about Brynn to leave her alone. Despite the brave face she was putting on, I could see that her hands were shaking.
“Are you sure you don’t want the medics?” I asked.
“Positive.” She gave me a wan smile. “I already feel better with you here.”
I had no idea what to say to that. So I just helped her clean up her hands. She was right—the cuts weren’t very bad, despite all the blood. A glance into her bag showed that she’d been lucky not to do more damage.
“There.” Brynn finished wrapping the last bandage around her pinky finger. “I’ll be good as new in a few days.”
“I hope so. Want me to deprive the house of utensils tomorrow morning so this won’t happen again?” I asked, only half joking.
She shot me a sympathetic look. “You haven’t decided which deprivation to choose yet, huh?”
“It’s no big deal.” I didn’t want to obsess over something so stupid when she’d just been hurt. But when one of her archy eyebrows popped up skeptically, I laughed. “Okay, yeah,” I admitted. “I still have no idea what to do, and it’s stressing me out.”
She patted the vanity bench beside her. “Here, sit down and tell me about it,” she said. “You’ve been so sweet to me—the least I can do is try to help you in return.”
What else could I do? I sat down. The vanity bench was built to hold two people. Even so, we were close. Really, really close. I only hoped she couldn’t see me start to sweat.
“So last I heard, you were thinking about my idea to get rid of TV,” Brynn started. “What are your other options?”
She rested her hand on the bench between us. It was only, like, an inch from my pant leg. My eyes kept wandering down to it.
“Um …,” I began.
So much for feeling normal around Brynn. Sitting this close to her, I have to admit, it was hard not to notice that she was really something special. Usually Joe doesn’t have the most discriminating taste in girls. Basically, any girl who will give him the time of day is A-OK with him.
But he’d struck gold this time. And I wasn’t sure he even realized it. In fact, I seriously doubted it.
Still, I couldn’t help feeling guilty. Not because Brynn was smiling at me as if I was the coolest guy on the planet—I couldn’t help that. It was more about how I was thinking about her. Because all of a sudden, what I was thinking was how easy it would be to just lean over and kiss her right here and now….
Maybe I actually would have fought off my nerves and done it. Maybe not. I never got the chance to find out.
That’s because a sudden loud, terrified scream rang out from somewhere outside. Brynn jumped.
“Who was that?” she asked.
I was already on my feet. “Let’s go find out.”
People were running from all corners of the house. We all got down to the rear foyer—in a mansion like that, it seemed weird to call it a mudroom—at about the same time. Mary Moore was standing in the open doorway.
“What happened?” Olivia demanded. “Mary, was that you screaming? You just about gave me a heart attack!”
“S-sorry,” Mary gasped out. She looked tinier and paler than ever. It was dark out, and she took another step into the light. That was when I saw that she was covered in mud and her long, straight hair was tangled and dirty.
The others saw it too. “What happene
d to you?” Bobby T exclaimed.
“I was out in the yard taking out the trash.” A sob escaped as Mary spoke. “While I was at the garbage cans, I saw a little girl standing at the far end of the yard near the woodpile.”
“A little girl?” Hal wrinkled his nose in confusion. “Who was it?”
“Hush,” Ripley chided him. “She’s trying to tell us!”
Mary swallowed hard. “I called out to her, but she didn’t answer. It was hard to see in the dark, but she sort of, you know, beckoned to me. I thought she might be lost or something, so I took a few steps that way.” She sobbed again, her eyes filling with tears. “That’s when someone grabbed me from behind and shoved me to the ground!”
The Fangs Come Out
The house was in an uproar after Mary’s story. I immediately turned and raced out into the yard. Frank was right beside me. James, Ripley, and Gail were only a few steps behind.
“Look for anything suspicious,” I told them, already heading for the far end of the yard.
It was pretty dark out there without even a flash-light to help us. We didn’t find any signs of a little girl—or anyone else. Just Mary’s dropped bag of trash near the garbage cans.
When we headed back in, everyone else was still talking about Mary’s scary encounter. “I bet there was no little girl at all,” James said with a snort. “She prob’ly just saw a snake or some other creepy crawly by the garbage cans and made up that tall tale to cover for her own wimpiness.” He smirked and winked at Bobby T. “You know how girls are.”
Mary frowned. “Tell me, James.” Her voice was as soft as ever, though it held an edge of steel. “Have you ever helped milk the venom out of a Western diamondback rattlesnake’s fangs? Because I have.”
James blinked at her in surprise. For once he didn’t seem to have a comeback.
I exchanged an amused glance with Frank behind James’s back. Go, homeschool-girl!
Meanwhile, Hal looked impressed. “Have you really done that?” he asked.
Mary shrugged, suddenly back to her usual meek self. “It was no big deal,” she said quietly. “Just part of a unit on herpetology.”
House Arrest Page 5