Oliver Twisted (An Ivy Meadows Mystery Book 3) Read online

  Oh.

  I was.

  I’d thought I was doing pretty well with my water phobia, but I suspected it had been seeping into my mind all this time, wearing away my sense of wellbeing. I didn’t notice my chronic unease until it was gone.

  Nothing I could do about it at this point. I had to get back on the ship in a few hours. I mentally packed my fear away in watertight luggage, pushed it far back into the attic of my mind, and focused on the time I had now, with Candy, on dry land.

  After all, there were margaritas to be drunk.

  We sat at a table already outfitted with a paper boat of crispy tortilla chips, a cup of chunky salsa fresca, and two margaritas—a frozen one for Candy, one on the rocks for me. “So,” Candy said, “what’s this about a murder?”

  I filled her in, swearing her to secrecy. After she was caught up, I said, “So I need to find out a few things that could help. I want to look up some information on your phone.”

  “Why not yours? You forget to charge it?”

  I shook my head. “Do you know how easy it is for someone to hack into your phone? Get your texts, your browser history, even your voice commands?” I did. Working at Uncle Bob’s PI firm had given me quite the education. “Since we’re undercover, we’re trying to keep any cybertrails to a minimum. Even my texts have to sound innocent.”

  Candy hauled her chair next to mine, pulled out her phone, and went to her browser. “All right, let’s do this. First thing?”

  “Find out what Keppra is used for. It’s a prescription drug.”

  A few taps later: “It’s an anti-seizure medication.”

  “Any interactions with Amoxicillin?”

  Candy and I scrolled through several sites looking for drug interactions. Didn’t see any issues with Amoxicillin.

  “Can we look up something more exciting now?” Candy signaled the waiter for another round of margaritas. “Like how to kill your agent who promised you movies and can’t even get you a commercial?”

  “Oh no.”

  “Oh yes. She’s only managed to get me a handful of auditions since I got to L.A. Keeps sending me on cattle calls I don’t even need an agent for. And the only role I actually got was in an indie film where I played ‘sex tent female.’ Don’t even ask.” Candy rolled her eyes. “I actually dated ‘sex tent male’ for a couple weeks, but that went about as well as the rest of my Hollywood life. I almost miss Phoenix.”

  “Almost? Do you miss Matt?” They had dated for more than half a year after I’d introduced them. Candy broke off the relationship when she moved to California to pursue a film career.

  “I don’t know.” Candy stirred the slush in her margarita with a little straw. “Let’s investigate your murder some more. It’s less depressing.”

  “Really?”

  “Really.”

  “Okay. Let’s find out everything we can about Theo Pushwright.”

  “Ooh, is he onboard?” She tapped on her phone. “I love him.”

  “You and about a million others.” I stared at Candy’s tiny screen. “Wow, he’s sold a lot of books. But that’s not what I really want to know.” Candy and I searched for something about Theo’s personal life for over ten minutes. Nothing that didn’t appear scripted by his PR firm. “Huh.” I knocked a bit of the salt off the rim of my glass and sipped my margarita. “No mention of wives or kids or girlfriends at all.”

  “Maybe he’s gay?”

  “Jonas said Theo was his stepfather, so he had to be married.”

  “Doesn’t mean he’s not gay.”

  “I’m pretty sure he’s not.” I remembered Theo sneering at Timothy. “Moral weakness,” he’d said. “Let’s move on,” I said to Candy. “See what we can find on Harley Locklow.” I’d seen Harley’s last name on her Get Lit! contract.

  Candy Googled her. “Looks like she’s on a bunch of social media sites, but…kinda funny. She only posts about twice a month, but then she writes a ton.”

  “That makes sense if she’s been working on ships for a while. Probably only gets online in between cruises. Hey, does she mention being onboard any other ships?”

  Candy studied her phone. “Yeah. The S.S. Jack London and A Cruiseship Named Desire. Ooh, maybe I should audition for that one. After all, I have spent my life depending on the kindness of strangers.”

  “Did you say Jack London?”

  “Yep. She’s even got some photos.” Candy slid her phone toward me. There was Harley, smiling into a cup of coffee; then with a group of people; then in a swimsuit on a beautiful white sand beach.

  “You sure that’s Jack London? It doesn’t look like Alaska.”

  Candy looked closer. “Oops, that’s the S.S. David Copperfield. I can go back to Jack—”

  “No, wait.” I grabbed her phone and looked at the group photo. I recognized some of the people: Timothy and David and Val. The whole group had linked arms, but Harley stood especially close to Val, looking up at him with obvious affection. “Look up Valery…” How had he introduced himself? “Boyko,” I finished.

  Candy tapped. And tapped. And tapped some more. “Valery Boyko? You sure you got that right?”

  “I think so. Why?”

  “Nothin’ on him. Not a mention anywhere. As far as the internet is concerned, the boy doesn’t exist.”

  CHAPTER 18

  The Damp Breath of an Unwholesome Wind

  Two hours later, I stood on the bow of the S.S. David Copperfield, watching the coastline recede. My unease had returned, a slippery shifting feeling, as if I was floating unmoored on a too-small boat, a current pulling me farther and farther out to the edge of the watery world where monsters waited in the endless mist. I closed my eyes. If I was going to be on the ship for another week, I better get ahold of this fear.

  I made myself look over the railing. The sparkling sea was nothing like the Spokane pond of my childhood. The dark deceptive waters of that pond froze the winter I was eleven—solid enough to skate on, we thought. Again, I heard the crack of the ice. I felt its roughness under my skates as I raced to the jagged hole where I last saw my brother. Again, I watched Cody’s yellow hair float above him as he sank to the bottom of the pond.

  I blinked to clear the vision from my head. This blue water was not that pond. And Cody was okay. He might have a brain injury, but he lived a good life. He loved his job at Safeway and his friends at the group home. He even had a girlfriend, Sarah. Everything was okay now.

  Suddenly I wanted to talk to my brother more than anything. I pulled out my phone.

  “Ivy,” said a voice behind me. “I’ve been trying to reach you. I was afraid you were crab hors d’oeuvres at the bottom of the bay.”

  “Sorry.” I patted Timothy’s hand. “Everything’s fine. I had a great lunch with Candy. And I learned that margaritas really help with the whole my-arms-are-going-to-fall-off-’cause-I’m-out-of-shape thing.” I leaned in. “But I didn’t get anything on Val, except that he eschews the internet.” That was a little strange, but maybe not so much for a Russian guy who spent most of his time onboard ships with little (or very expensive) access to the internet. It was also really frustrating, since it brought up more questions than answers.

  “You saw Candy? While I ate all by myself, just in case you needed me?” Timothy rolled his eyes dramatically. “You should have had your phone on. Especially while investigating.”

  “That’s actually why I turned it off. Anyway—” My phone cheeped, alerting me to missed calls. “It’s on now. I want to call Cody before we get out of range.”

  My phone kept making noises. “Arggh. I must have missed about a billion calls. Wait…” I scrolled through the numbers of missed calls. Most of them were from the same two numbers: Matt’s cell phone and Cody’s group home. Ice water dripped into my gut. “Shit.” I punched in th
e group home number and paced while the phone rang.

  “Hello?” One of Cody’s housemates must have picked up.

  “Hi,” I said, “this is Cody’s sister. Is he there?”

  “No.”

  I looked at the time on my phone. Cody was usually home by now.

  “Is he at work?”

  “No.”

  “Do you know where he is?”

  “Gone.”

  “Is Matt there?”

  “Yes.”

  Thank God. I waited for Matt to come on the line and tell me everything was okay. I waited some more. No Matt, just breathing. Oops. Sometimes I forgot to be really concrete with the guys. “Could you please ask Matt to come talk to me on the phone?” I asked.

  “Sure. Matt!”

  “Everything okay?” asked Timothy. I’d forgotten he was there. I crossed my fingers and nodded.

  “Hi, this is Matt.”

  “It’s Ivy. Have you or Cody been calling me? Because your phone numbers—”

  “Ivy.” A frantic edge in Matt’s voice made me stop breathing. “Cody’s gone.”

  CHAPTER 19

  A Real Alarm

  “What do you mean, Cody’s gone?” My voice shook.

  Timothy moved close to me, a solid presence.

  “He left last night and hasn’t come back,” said Matt. “I’ve been calling you, but was afraid if I left a message you’d panic.”

  “You were right.” I tried to catch my breath. “Where…what…shit.” I couldn’t think. “Do you know why he left?” I asked.

  “He went after Stu. We’re looking for him too.”

  “Shit. Cody left a voicemail asking me to talk to Stu, but then he said never mind, so I didn’t think…Oh God.” I slumped against Timothy, who put his arms around me.

  “Ivy.” Matt’s voice was strong now. “The guys said Cody left the house right after calling you. You wouldn’t have reached him.”

  “Okay, okay.” I took a deep breath. “What do we do?”

  “We’re pretty sure he’s following Stu, but I want to check any places Cody might go.”

  “You checked Safeway?”

  “Yeah. He’s not scheduled to work and hasn’t dropped by. What about Bob’s?”

  I shook my head even though Matt couldn’t see it. “Cody knows he’s onboard the ship with me. Did you ask Sarah?”

  “She hasn’t seen him. She’s really worried. Anywhere else you can think of?”

  “Maybe Encanto Park, but I think he knows better than to hang out in a park after dark. Omigod.” I couldn’t breathe again. “He’s been gone since last night? Where would he sleep? He doesn’t have cash for a motel and…”

  Cody was not streetwise. If he slept in a park, who knows what might have happened.

  “Ivy?”

  “Yeah, sorry.” C’mon, Ivy. Concentrate. Think like a detective. “Why did Stu leave?”

  “There’s a new housemate, Geoff. They don’t get along. Stu got fed up and took off.”

  “And Cody followed him?”

  “Yeah.” The doorbell rang in the background. “I have to go. The police are here. And the media.”

  “The media?”

  “We want to get the word out.” Matt’s voice got tight. “We can’t do an Amber Alert because Stu is an adult and we can’t do a Silver Alert because he’s under sixty-five.”

  “I’m not sure a media blitz is a great idea.” Though alerts made sense when it came to kids and senior citizens, people weren’t always kind to guys like Stu and Cody.

  “We really need to find Stu right away. In fact, that’s why Cody…” Matt swallowed. “Cody went after him because he knows Stu shouldn’t be without his medication. He has epilepsy. Gotta go.” He hung up.

  I hung up too. Timothy’s arms tightened around me. “I have to get off the ship,” I said.

  “I wish you could,” Timothy said. “But they can’t turn around.”

  “But this is an emergency.”

  “They can’t do it.” He hugged me against his chest. “And your brother will be okay. I know it.” He released me. “Better call your uncle.”

  I speed-dialed Uncle Bob. It went straight to voicemail. “Call me STAT,” I texted him.

  “I’m going to go look for him,” I told Timothy.

  “I’ll look too,” he said. “You take the decks, I’ll check the restaurants.”

  I took the elevator to the London Lido Deck and jogged around the swimming pools. Not there. I ran up a flight of stairs to the Drood Deck next. No Bob. Wait. There he was. I’d nearly missed him. I was looking for his usual Hawaiian shirt, but he was dressed in Bob Stalwart’s western shirt and jeans. And he was with Bette. Shit.

  I texted him again. He checked his phone and put it back in his pocket. Dammit. “Cigar bar in ten,” I texted again.

  I went to the bar and staked out the most isolated table, which wasn’t hard because I was the only one in the bar. Everyone else wanted to be outside in the Mexican sunshine. Not me.

  The dark windowless space suited my mood. I still felt the afternoon’s margaritas, so I ordered a Diet Coke for me and a beer for my uncle.

  Fifteen minutes later, he still hadn’t appeared.

  With his big laugh and jolly Santa Claus face, Uncle Bob appeared to be a laid-back guy, but I knew he was really a type A guy in a type B body. He was always on top of things, a step ahead of everyone else and never, never late. What was going on?

  A few minutes later, he sauntered into the bar.

  “Where have you been?”

  “Hey, hey, keep your pants on.” Uncle Bob slid into the booth opposite me. “I was having a great time with Bette and it’s not like any of us are going anywhere.”

  I stared at the man opposite me, speechless. Who was this guy and what had he done with my uncle?

  “Besides, it looks like Harley probably did die of natural causes. I slipped a few bucks to the local coroner,” he said. “Maybe someone panicked and stuffed her in the closet. Hey, remember my idea for a coffin closet? There’s a guy in Maine who’s doing that, building furniture that turns into a coffin when you need it. Cool, huh? Bette told me.” His sunburnt face crinkled into a smile.

  I found my tongue. “Cody’s disappeared.”

  The smile slipped from his face. “What? Shit. Olive, I’m sorry, I thought—what happened?”

  I started to tell him the story, but he held up a hand. “Wait a sec.” He pulled his cell phone out of a pocket. “Gonna call Pink.” Detective Pinkstaff of the Phoenix PD was one of my uncle’s best friends. I waited as Uncle Bob made the call.

  “He’s already on it,” he said after hanging up. “In fact, if I’d checked my messages…” He trailed off.

  This was so not like my uncle, and so not the time to scold him about it, so instead I told him the whole Cody and Stu story. “What can we do?” I asked. “Should we go home?”

  “No.” He shook his head slowly. “It’d be really tough to get off the ship at this point. They won’t airlift folks unless it’s a real emergency.” I started to protest, but Uncle Bob put a hand on my shoulder. “Between the police and the media and the group home people—you said Matt’s looking too, right?”

  I nodded.

  “We wouldn’t be able to do anything they’re not already doing. Besides,” he cleared his throat, “Pink says your mom and dad are down there. Helping.”

  “Helping” meant standing around and blaming people. That was what my parents did, especially where Cody was concerned. Every so often they blamed Matt for things like letting Cody go on a date (“Inappropriate,” they sniffed), or Uncle Bob for giving him a beer (on Cody’s twenty-first birthday), but it was me who had burning coals of blame heaped onto my head on a re
gular basis. I was the one who didn’t watch over Cody when we were skating, who let the accident happen, who later insisted that he move out of my parents’ home and into the group home. Where he just disappeared from.

  “Right,” I tried to say, but couldn’t. The thought of Cody sleeping on the streets…I took a sip of Diet Coke, hoping to loosen the knot in my throat.

  My uncle reached a big hand over the table and covered mine. “It’ll be okay, Olive.”

  “Bob?” a feminine voice drawled at my shoulder.

  “Bette!” My uncle grabbed his hand back, his face red.

  “I wondered where you got to.” She eyed me, sizing up the competition. “You two know each other?”

  “He knows my uncle,” I said. “I was just asking for some advice. Cody, my…boyfriend, is…running around.” I might have been a good actor, but I was lousy at improv.

  “Honey, you should know better than to ask a man advice about another man.”

  Did Bette really think my uncle and I could be an item? He was thirty years older than me.

  “Like I said, I think he’ll come back.” Uncle Bob slid out of the booth and looked seriously at me. “Try not to worry.”

  CHAPTER 20

  New Fortitude and Firmness

  As soon as Uncle Bob stood up, Bette clamped onto his arm like a mollusk. I watched them leave the bar arm in arm, then took a long drink of Diet Coke and checked my phone for messages. Nothing new, but shit, was that the time? I scrambled out of the booth, left a few bucks on the table for a tip, and hightailed it out of there.

  I skidded into the theater just in time. The entire cast of Oliver! At Sea! was onstage ready to rehearse. I jumped up on the stage and joined them. Timothy slid next to me and touched me on the arm. “You okay?”

  “I’m okay. Ready to go.”

  “Okay how?” said David. “Is something wrong?”

  “Everything okey-dokey?” asked Val.