Killer Connections Read online

  Frank nudged me. “I think we’ve done just about all we can here,” he murmured.

  Back at my cottage, Frank and I talked over the latest.

  “I keep thinking about that key,” Frank mused from his position on the rug, where he was sitting rubbing Killer’s ears. “But do you really think Lee could have done this?”

  “Who knows?” I said. “He was at dinner, right?”

  “Yeah. But you heard Darity. There was plenty of time before that when anyone could’ve walked in and trashed his place.”

  “Anyone with a key,” I corrected. “Unless someone left the door unlocked.”

  “We can’t rule out that last possibility. People around here are pretty relaxed about locking up.”

  “Plus, Destiny would never win any responsibility contests,” I added. “Okay, so where does that leave us with Lee?”

  “Nowhere, I guess.” Frank stood up and started pacing. Killer whined in disappointment, then started following him back and forth. “True, that could be why he snagged that key. But in an old house like that, it would be a pretty simple matter to pick the lock, too. Anyone could’ve done it.”

  “What about Destiny finding her dad’s glasses in her room?” I said. “Think there’s anything to that?”

  Frank stopped pacing. “It could be just what she said. Maybe he was checking up on her and dropped them in there by accident. Or maybe the vandal found them somewhere else and tossed them there.”

  “Or what if Darity himself is the vandal?” I said. “We already know he doesn’t have an alibi. And he knew the housekeeper would be out.”

  Frank nodded slowly. “It would be a good way to throw suspicion off himself.”

  I glanced at my laptop on the table nearby. “Hey, with all the excitement I almost forgot,” I said. “We should check out that FirthFirst blog.”

  Frank was closer to the laptop. He grabbed it and logged on. It didn’t take him long to find the blog. Soon it was loading.

  I leaned over his shoulder for a look. My eyes widened as I saw what was on the home page.

  There were photos of several people: Zeke, one of Firth’s teachers, a couple of other students.

  “All the people I found in those med records,” Frank muttered. “The ones with epilepsy or similar seizure disorders.”

  “Yeah. And check this out,” I said grimly, pointing to the banner headline above the photos. In huge red letters, it read seize the day!

  Bad Sports

  The next morning Zeke was gone before I woke up. For once. Usually the guy sleeps until, like, five minutes before his first class starts.

  I wondered if he’d heard about the blog yet. If not, he was practically the only one. The whole campus was buzzing about it as I headed to my first class.

  “Dude.” Van fell into step beside me as I headed across the Green. “Did you see FirthFirst?”

  “Yeah.” I tried not to sound guilty. “I saw it.”

  Van shook his head. “Who knew all those people had epilepsy?” he said. “I mean, everyone knows about Charles. He’s, like, totally open about it. So’s what’s-his-name from Allen House. But Mr. Farley? And Zeke? Like, whoa! Who knew they were in the seizure squad?”

  Apparently, nobody. Until now.

  I couldn’t help wondering if I was the reason for that. It seemed too coincidental that this kind of news would hit the blog less than twenty-four hours after I’d looked up the info on Darity’s computer.

  But no. I’d been careful to shut down the medical records site as soon as I was finished. And I hadn’t breathed a word to anyone except Joe about what I’d found. The best we could figure was that Darity must have let word slip about that anticonvulsant drug being responsible for the Winner’s Cup incident, and whoever was writing the blog had figured out the rest somehow.

  But how? Those medical records were supposed to be top secret. No one except the headmaster and the medical staff had access to them.

  When I arrived at English class, Mr. Westerley wasn’t there yet. Most of the class was gathered around Patton’s desk. He was perched on the edge of it, his acid-scarred face excited as he chattered about the latest gossip. Namely, that blog post.

  “This just proves it,” he was exclaiming as I came in. “Whoever’s doing the blog knows everything that goes on around here. It’s crazy!”

  “Hey Peachy, you seem to know a lot about that blog,” one of the guys said.

  “Yeah,” another put in. “And you’re always ready to spread the word about it. Are you the FirthFirst blogger?”

  Patton frowned. “I wish,” he said. “I’m dying to know who’s really behind the blog. It seems weird that it, like, came out of nowhere after all the bad stuff started this year.” He waved a hand to indicate his own damaged face.

  “Maybe it’s Ellery,” someone said. “He was always up to something, right? And he disappeared right around the time the blog got popular. Maybe he left school to join the blogosphere full time.”

  “That doesn’t make sense,” another kid put in. “How could Ellery keep up with all the gossip if he’s not even at Firth anymore?”

  I carefully kept my face neutral as I took my seat. Despite the way every little speck of gossip flew around this place, everyone still seemed clueless about Ellery’s sudden departure. Chalk one up to the power of Mr. Marks’s cover-up.

  “Maybe Ell is still here.” A GTT brother grinned. “He could be hiding out in the basement of Firth Hall. That place has so many nooks and crannies, nobody’d ever find him there.”

  Patton rolled his eyes. “Get real, you guys. Everyone knows Ellery left school to join the CIA as a junior spy. His dad’s connected there, you know.”

  “Junior spy?” someone scoffed. “Grow up, Peachy. There’s no such thing.”

  “Forget Ellery,” someone else said. Slipping into a faux British accent, he added, “Oi think it’s Noigel Nabb spreading all the gossip.”

  Most of the others laughed, and I smiled along. But I couldn’t help wondering if the last guy was right. It did seem pretty coincidental that Nigel had appeared just when that blog was heating up.

  Actually, there were a lot of coincidences lately. And I didn’t like any of them. In my experience since joining ATAC, a coincidence was rarely just a coincidence. At least when it came to missions.

  I was still pondering that as I hurried to my next class. Westerley had kept us a little late, so I had to jog to make it in before the late bell rang.

  “So glad you could join us, Mr. Hardy,” the teacher said wryly. He peered around the room. “You didn’t bring Mr. Jenkins with you, did you?”

  “Lee must be sick or something,” one of my classmates offered. “He wasn’t in trig just now either.”

  At that moment Lee himself rushed into the room. “Sorry I’m late,” he exclaimed breathlessly. “I, uh, overslept.”

  The teacher started a rant about being prompt. But I wasn’t listening. I was staring at Lee, feeling uneasy. Lee wasn’t the type to oversleep.

  So what was up with him now? Had he lost track of time while sneaking around with Destiny? It seemed possible. Destiny herself wasn’t known for promptness or following the rules. Maybe her bad influence was rubbing off on Lee.

  But I also kept thinking back to that stolen key. I hated to think that Lee was the person we were after. But it was hard to ignore what I’d seen. Until we found out what that key was for, we had to keep him at the top of our list.

  After classes finished for the day, I decided to pay a visit to Firth’s soccer coach. One of the incidents that neither Ellery nor Casey had confessed to was the way the swim coach had been injured in the soccer office. Joe and I had questioned both coaches about the incident earlier in the mission, but I figured it couldn’t hurt to revisit the issue. There had to be some connection we were missing; something to tie all the incidents together. We just had to find it.

  When I reached the office, the coach was nowhere in sight. But someone else had clearly be
en there just before me. Written on the office door in bright red liquid was a message:

  THE MORE THINGS CHANGE …

  “Whoa,” I breathed as I took it in. The pungent, distinctive smell told me what the red liquid was. Blood.

  I quickly pulled out my cell phone and snapped a couple of pictures. Then I carefully touched one finger to the blood. Still wet.

  I shot a look around. Whoever had left this message couldn’t have gone far.

  CREAK!

  I spun around. That noise had come from right behind me! I was just in time to catch the briefest glimpse of a foot disappearing around the corner.

  “Stop!” I yelled, taking off after the person. “Who are you?”

  There was no answer except the clatter of footsteps. I raced after them, rounding the corner into a hallway just in time to hear the steps fading away around the next bend.

  I chased the sound. Bursting through a doorway, I found myself in a small workout room full of free weights and other gym equipment. I stopped, scanning the room. At first I didn’t see anything.

  Then a flash of movement caught my eye at one end. I spun around…; just in time to see a whole net full of medicine balls come loose, sending a dozen weighted balls bouncing toward me!

  “Hey!” I yelped, raising both hands to fend off the heavy balls.

  By the time I fought my way through the Attack of the Medicine Balls, I could hear a few thumps off in the next hallway. I ran that way. But my path was blocked by a pile of mats that had been shoved across the hallway!

  Running footsteps taunted me from the far side of the jumbled pile of mats. I clambered over the mats as quickly as I could. But by the time I reached the far side, there was no sign of my quarry. However, I did see a door nearby flapping as if someone had just rushed through it.

  The door led directly outside. I emerged into the bright afternoon sunshine and found myself in the middle of a huge crowd. People were milling around everywhere, some of them holding signs.

  I groaned and collapsed back against the wall to catch my breath. Great. Another protest. And my quarry had already blended in with the crowd. Maybe if I’d had Killer with me, he could have tracked the person down.

  But on my own, it was pretty much hopeless.

  On the Run

  Hey.” I tugged on Killer’s leash. “This is supposed to be your midmorning exercise walk, not a Dumpster dive. Trust me, if you’re not into it, I’ve got better things to do.”

  Killer whined and pulled even harder toward the huge metal trash container behind the cafeteria. I gave another tug, my annoyance building. With time ticking away and Frank and me no closer to wrapping up our mission, the last thing I needed right now was doggie problems. As it was, Killer’s detailed schedule was definitely cramping my ATAC style.

  “I thought well-trained law-enforcement machines like you didn’t care about stinky kitchen scraps from the caf,” I said as Killer gave the leash another yank. “Guess you’re just a dog after all.”

  He ignored me. What else was new?

  Normally I wouldn’t think twice about a dog being interested in a giant trash bin. Especially one with the aromatic scents of that morning’s bacon and pancakes wafting out of it.

  But it really wasn’t Killer’s usual style. Then again, I wouldn’t put it past him to develop new bad habits just to make me look bad. Yeah, he liked me that much.

  “Dude, come on!” I insisted, pulling harder to try to get Killer moving.

  But the dog planted his fuzzy little paws. It’s amazing how hard it is to drag a hundred-pound dog that doesn’t want to be dragged. Pricking his ears forward, Killer let out several loud, sharp barks.

  I opened my mouth to yell at him. But just then I heard the clatter of cans and cardboard boxes falling over. A second later a figure darted out from behind the Dumpster and took off.

  “Hey!” I blurted out. “Stop!”

  Going on instinct, I took off after the figure. A dark hoodie covered the person’s head and torso, making it impossible to tell whether it was male or female, black or white, old or young—though I didn’t know of any Firth students quite that small and slender. Maybe an extra-petite female member of the school staff?

  I scanned my mind for likely candidates but couldn’t come up with anyone except Ida from the mailroom, who was about two hundred years old and probably didn’t even know what a hoodie was. There weren’t really that many females on campus. It definitely wasn’t Destiny—way too short.

  Killer was racing along in front of me, pulling at the leash and barking fiercely. “Shut up, Killer!” I shouted. “Listen, whoever you are—you don’t have to be scared of the dog. He just wants you to stop, okay?”

  The only response from Runaway Hoodie was to speed up and dash around the corner of the cafeteria building. Okay, so maybe he or she wasn’t afraid of Killer. In which case, I really wanted to know why he or she was running away.

  Killer and I took the corner at a dead run. The dog was faster than me and proved it, almost scraping me against the edge of the brick wall as he whipped around after our quarry.

  “Oh, man,” I muttered, wincing at the road rash on my elbow. Or should that be wall rash? In any case, I was glad I had the dog with me. He’d already proved his tracking abilities. Even if Hoodie McHooderson could outrun me, he or she couldn’t outrun Killer’s finely honed nose.

  Our quarry led us on a merry chase around the cafeteria building and down another alleyway. I still hadn’t gotten a good look at him/her/it. But Killer and I were definitely closing ground. One more jump …

  I burst out from the alleyway just a dozen feet behind my quarry. But then Killer stopped so quickly that I almost tripped over him.

  “Whoa!” I yelped, catching myself on his furry neck before I did an embarrassing—and probably painful—somersault over his back.

  Then I saw why he’d stopped. Nigel Nabb was standing right in front of us, camera in hand. The dog stared at him and let out a warning growl.

  “There, there, pretty puppy,” said Nigel, sounding a little nervous. “Sorry we got off on the wrong paw during our last encounter. I didn’t realize then that you were the marvelous mascot I’d heard so much about.”

  “What are you doing here?” I demanded, more than a little annoyed by the interruption. A quick glance ahead showed no sign of that hoodied figure. “I thought Darity told you to get off campus last night.”

  “Another day, a fresh start,” Nigel said blithely. He peered into my face. “Funny how I keep running into you everywhere, mate. What’s your name? And where were you and the pooch off to in such a hurry, eh?”

  “Does Dr. Darity know you’re back?” I asked.

  I was pretty sure I knew the answer. If I’d had any doubts, Nigel’s smirk answered them.

  “I don’t need permission to report the news,” he said.

  “News? Is that what you call the idiotic gossip you report about?”

  “Ah, so you’re a fan of the show?” Nigel’s smirk grew. “Then you’ll know that I never give up on a story. Now, would you care to answer my questions, mate?”

  “Nope.” I gave a tug on Killer’s leash. “Come on, boy.”

  Killer obeyed. For once. Maybe that meant he liked Nigel even less than he liked me. Yay me.

  Nigel shrugged and wandered off. That was kind of a relief. For a second there I’d been afraid he was onto me. Nope. He was just being obnoxious.

  I thought about trying to have Killer track that person in the hoodie. But I wasn’t sure it was worth it. Thanks to Nigel, Hoodie now had a pretty good head start. Enough to shake us by walking through water or any of the other usual tricks.

  “Come on, boy,” I said with a sigh. “Let’s go home.”

  We were on the winding, pine-lined path leading toward the staff cottages when Killer pricked his ears forward. I followed his gaze and saw someone creeping along just ahead, moving slowly and peering carefully around with each step.

  It was dim in
the shade of the trees, so I couldn’t tell if it was the same person I’d just been chasing. He or she disappeared around a curve in the path. I shot forward.

  “Aha!” I cried, rounding the corner and grabbing the figure by the arm. “Gotcha!”

  “Oh!” someone shrieked.

  The figure spun around, looking guilty and a little frightened. It was a slim, attractive young woman with auburn hair. I didn’t recognize her. And trust me, I have an excellent memory for attractive young women.

  “Who are you?” I asked.

  She shook off my grip on her arm. “I should ask you the same question,” she said, her voice shaking a little. “Touch me again and I’ll scream!”

  “Hey, what’s wrong? I heard you scream… .” Another young woman hurried into view from ahead.

  This one I recognized. “Janice?” I said.

  “Joe?” Janice was one of my fellow Firth staff members. I sat with her and some other pals for most meals. Her eyes flicked from me to the other woman and back again. “What’s going on?”

  I glanced at Killer. He was sitting there calmly, not seeming too interested in any of this. Great. Some help he was.

  “You know this creep, Jan?” the other woman exclaimed. “He ran up behind me and grabbed me!”

  “There must be some misunderstanding,” Janice said soothingly. “This is just Joe. He’s Killer’s new handler. Joe, this is Mary. She used to work here.”

  “Oh.” I was starting to realize that this was one big misunderstanding. For one thing, Mary was definitely taller than the hooded figure from earlier. “Um, sorry about that. I thought you were someone else. Why were you sneaking along like that?”

  Mary traded a look with Janice. For a second I thought they weren’t going to answer. But finally Janice did.

  “Mary is Mrs. Wilson’s niece,” she said. “She lives down in Sugarview.”

  Dr. Montgomery’s housekeeper wasn’t very popular with the rest of the staff. Actually, that was an understatement. Mrs. Wilson was a favorite topic of gossip among Janice and her friends. They thought she was stuck-up because she kept to herself and didn’t socialize with the other employees. I also vaguely recalled some talk of a niece who lived in the nearby town of Sugarview. One who didn’t like her aunt any more than the others did.