Harper Madigan: Junior High Private Eye (11 page)

I race up the stairs towards Mrs. Marsh’s class, only minutes before second period ends. Austin’s right behind me, panting and calling for me to hold on. He grabs my arm just as I shove open one of the double doors that lead to the second floor hallway.

“Harper, wait!”

“Hands off, Phelps,” I say, jerking my arm free while he sucks in a few deep breaths.

“But if you’ve really solved the case, then we should be down in the
office
, not up here looking for trouble. We should be showing the evidence to Principal Vickers or Vice Principal Dodge or somebody, you know, in charge?”

I shake my head. “And show them what? A scrap of paper with some symbols on it that don’t mean anything?” A scrap of paper I now know must have come from one of Mrs. Mills’ campaign flyers.

“We’ve got my notes—you can just explain to them whatever it is you’ve figured out. You were going to show them the note before, when you thought it was Alexis. But now that it’s Connor you’re going to, what? Confront him yourself?!”

The bell rings, signaling we don’t have much time. “Alexis’ mom isn’t in the PTA. She’s not one of the untouchables. And anyway, I’m not so sure we can trust Vickers.”

“Dodge, then. We have to at least tell him before you… before
we
do anything stupid.”

“I’ve got news for you—it’s too late for that. Plus Dodge might be on the up and up, but he won’t be happy to see me. Not after he kicked me off the case and told me to go home on suspension. We show up in his office with some chicken scratch we can’t even prove is Connor’s, and I guarantee we both get calls home and Danigail ends up expelled. Because this? This is
big
. This is my chance to get revenge for Oliver. If I get Connor Mills, I can finally let go. I can go back to being who I used to be. And maybe Danigail can be who she was, too. We can all have better lives.”

Austin bites his lip, looking skeptical. “Oliver will still be in that chair. No matter what you do to Connor.”

“Yeah, I know, but this is all I’ve got. And I can’t put away an untouchable if I don’t have real, hard evidence. Not speculation, not maybes, but undeniable
proof
.”

“If you won’t tell Dodge, at least tell me. We’re partners, right? You owe it to me to tell me what’s going on.
And
you promised me a story.”

“I’ll tell you, but not now. We’ve got to—”

“Well, well, well.” Connor’s voice makes my stomach turn sour. “If it isn’t Harper Madigan. And here I heard you got suspended.”

I turn around, my nerves jittering as I’m suddenly faced with what I came here to do. But there’s no backing out now.

We’ve got to find Connor and get him to take us to his headquarters.
That’s what I was going to tell Austin, only now that I’m faced with the prospect of actually confronting my worst enemy and getting him to escort me to his hideout for thugs, the same place where Oliver fell last year, it doesn’t sound like nearly such a good idea as it did five seconds ago.

“You heard wrong,” Austin lies. He folds his arms across his chest and tries to stare down Connor, but when Connor takes a step forward, Austin takes two steps back, half hiding behind me. So much for my partner sticking up for me.

The three of us are kind of blocking the stairs, and there’s a mad rush of kids trying to get past to go to their next classes. A guy with a backpack overflowing with textbooks and lugging around an instrument case accidentally elbows me in the shoulder as he clomps past. A group of girls all wearing pink sweaters press their hands together and pretend to swim through the crowd, pushing everyone else out of the way. “Can’t you
move
?” one of them says to me and Austin in a snotty voice before disappearing down the stairs. Nobody touches or says a word to Connor, like he’s standing in some kind of protective bubble that exists outside of Bright Oaks.

Eugene slips through the crowd and comes to stand next to me. “It’s spreading,” he says, talking to me out the side of his mouth. “I got yesterday’s homework back today. Mrs. Marsh’s red pen must be almost dry, because this thing was bleeding all over.” Then he glares at Connor and says, loud enough so everyone can hear, “And
he’s
the one who took my lucky pencil.”

“Don’t look at me,” Connor says, holding his hands up in an “I’m innocent” gesture. Then a wicked smirk twists up his mouth and he looks at Eugene. “I take it Madigan here hasn’t told you.”

Eugene hesitates, his eyebrows wrinkling. “Told me what?”

“Nothing,” I mutter. “And you don’t want to be late for your next class, so—”

“Ask him where your pencil is,” Connor says, not letting me get away with ushering Eugene out of here. “He
knows
I don’t have it.”

“He doesn’t have it?” Eugene looks to me for the answer. I glance away. “Harper. If he doesn’t have it, then
who does
? This is my life we’re talking about.”

Austin tenses and clears his throat, his eyes on me. Connor just grins and waits for it all to unfold.

I reach inside my trench coat pocket and grip the broken pencil pieces in my hand. My face gets hot and a wave of guilt slinks its way from my chest to my stomach. This isn’t where or how I wanted to tell him, but if I don’t, Connor will, and that’ll make it even worse. Slowly, I take my hand out of my pocket and open my fingers, revealing what’s left of his lucky pencil sitting in my palm. I want to close my eyes so I don’t have to see the devastated look on his face, but I make myself keep them open. I make myself look as Eugene realizes I’ve betrayed him. This is what it looks like when I fail a client. When Connor gets the better of me. And if I have anything to say about it, it’s never going to happen again.

“Now ask him who broke it,” Connor says.

Eugene’s face crumples. He gapes at the shattered bits of wood and graphite, and then his eyes meet mine, searching for the truth.

“I screwed up. I… I was going to tell you,” I say, the words coming out shaky. “I just didn’t know how.”

“
You
broke it?”

Connor’s eating this up. “He snapped it right in half. On purpose.”

Austin glares at him, even though he knows Connor’s not exactly lying. But he’s not exactly telling the whole story either.

Eugene gapes at me, and when I don’t argue against Connor’s accusations, his face goes pale and he looks like someone just punched him in the stomach.

“Eugene, I can explain.”

“You didn’t break my pencil? You didn’t do it on purpose?”

“No, I… I did, but—”

“But
nothing
.” His face twinges in disgust, putting me in my place. His expression says it all—he trusted me, and I let him down, big time. Then he turns and storms off.

I’d go after him, but I can’t. Not without Connor getting away, and I’m running out of time. Plus the damage is already done. I can’t change what happened, and I can’t get him his pencil back. At least, not the way it was. I shove what’s left of it back in my coat pocket.

“You’re going to pay for that,” I tell Connor.

“Oh, yeah? How’s that exactly?” He’s still grinning, enjoying every second of my misery.

“You’re going to tell him the truth, that you stole it. And you’re going to tell your mom and the rest of the PTA to stop leaning on Mrs. Marsh. If you or them have a problem with me, you take it out on me, not my client.”

Connor raises his eyebrows. “Pretty tough words there,
Detective
. But let’s face it—you never win. You didn’t win before, and you’re not winning now. Not against me anyway.”

“And you might not know it yet, but you’re about to lose. You play Dragon Slayers?”

He puffs up his chest and stands a little straighter. “Are you kidding me? I’m the best Slayer at this school.”

“Don’t be so sure of that. After all, you’ve never played
me
.”

He laughs. “If that’s your best shot at beating me at something, you’re more pathetic than I thought. Do yourself a favor and forget it, because I never lose.”

“If you’re really that confident, then you won’t have a problem playing me. The two of us play today, at lunch. Loser takes the blame for what happened with Eugene’s pencil.”

“
You
seriously want to play
me
?” He looks genuinely shocked. “Look, Madigan, you’re not going to win, so just save yourself the extra humiliation and go find McAllister and tell him you broke it. You did break it, after all.”

I did, but that’s not the whole truth and he knows it. I lick my lips and take a step towards him, my voice dead serious. “Maybe you didn’t hear me, so I’ll say it again. I. Want. To. Play.”

“
Harper
,” Austin whispers through clenched teeth. “This is your
plan
?”

I ignore him and stay focused on Connor. “Unless you’re scared to play me? Because you know you couldn’t take it if you lost to someone like me?”

“Fine. It’s your funeral. But I only play for high stakes, and you taking the blame for this whole stupid pencil incident?” He shakes his head. “Not going to cut it. I usually play for cash, but I know you don’t have it.”

“Fine, if I win, you apologize to Eugene and get the PTA off his back.”

“And
when I win
?”

“If… if you win…” I glance around, trying to think of something.

Austin’s just shaking his head at me, like he can already tell this is the stupidest thing I’ve ever done.

There’s only one thing I can offer that Connor would be interested in, the only thing high stakes enough for this game. I feel like I’m shaking all over, but my voice comes out steady. “If you win, I’ll give up. I’ll forget my vendetta against you and admit defeat.”

“Harper,” Austin warns. “You don’t have to do this.”

I hold up a hand. “If I lose, I’ll stop trying to make you pay for what you did to Oliver.” I feel sick just saying it. I don’t know what I’ll do if I lose.

Connor wrinkles his nose. “Like I’m afraid of
you
and your precious
vendetta
.”

“You wanted high stakes. Those are the highest I’ve got. And let’s face it, you know that sooner or later I’m going to find something on you. No matter how squeaky clean you think you look to everyone else, you’re not fooling me. I might be the only person at this school who knows the monster you really are, and someday I’m going to be able to prove it. Maybe you don’t want me to think you’re scared, but you should be. So this is your chance. Take me up on this bet, and if you win, I leave you alone. Forever. And you are going to win, right? So what have you got to lose?”

Connor stares at me, unblinking. “Fine,” he grunts. “Lunch time. My headquarters, in the barn, out in the woods behind the school. You remember where that is, don’t you?”

Like I could ever forget. I shudder and feel like I’m going to throw up. But I knew he’d pick his own turf to do battle, even if just to remind me what happened there last time, and I know that’s where I have to go if I want the evidence that will save Danigail. I pretend otherwise, though, just to throw him off. If I’m too eager, too willing to go along with all this, he might get suspicious, and my plan revolves around catching him off guard. “I was thinking more like school grounds. Somewhere that’s neutral.”

“You want to play, you play
my way
. Oh, and a little advice? Don’t bring your best cards. I’m going to win either way, and I play for keeps.” He shoots me a sinister grin before hurrying down the stairs as the bell rings.

“You’re not the only one,” I mutter once he’s gone.

Austin swallows. “This was your plan? You want him to apologize for a
pencil
?”

“I had to challenge him, didn’t I? It’s better if he thinks it’s about this whole mess with Eugene. I’m kind of counting on having the element of surprise. And it had to be the barn. If I want to dig up his secrets, I have to go where he keeps them.” Even if some memories are best left unvisited. Even if the idea of going back to the barn where Oliver fell makes my legs shake and waves of cold fear slither up my spine. But with the barn being a hangout for local thugs, it’s not like I can just waltz in and start digging around for dirt on Connor. I need an in, even if that means getting Connor himself to walk me through the front door.

“Fine,” Austin says, “but I’m going with you.”

“There’s a reason I work alone, Phelps. You know what happened to the last guy who went to face Connor in the barn with me.”

“Yeah, I do. So just think about what might have happened if you’d been stupid enough to go alone. You need me, Harper.
Justice
needs me, and I’m not about to let either of you down. Plus you promised me a story, and I’m going to be there to get it first hand. That’s what a good journalist would do. That’s what a good
detective
would do, and maybe you think I can only be one or the other, but I’m aiming for both. And, more importantly, I’m your partner. So don’t even think of trying to stop me.”

The barn smells like dust and hay and sweat. It’s a nauseating smell that conjures up memories of the last time I was here. My stomach twists and my palms are clammy and the game hasn’t even started yet. And suddenly I’m very aware of how stupid it was to come here. It was a bad enough move the first time, and now here I am, dumb enough to do it again.

When we walk in there’s half a dozen kids hanging around the place. Two of them are crouched on the floor playing dice. Another one’s lifting weights. I can’t even lift the bar, and he’s got several metal plates fastened to each end. His spotter sits idly at a table next to him, tallying up his earnings in stolen lunch money. Two more stand behind Connor when he comes to greet us.

And everyone stares, glaring suspiciously at us while also looking like they’re trying not to laugh. Next to me, Austin goes kind of pale, and I’m wondering if he’s already regretting his little act of bravery.

And okay, maybe not just volunteering, but
insisting
on coming with me to Connor’s headquarters—not even knowing the details of the crazy, dangerous plan I have worked out—counts as more than a
little
act of bravery. It was a huge act of idiocy, if you ask me, but also of loyalty, and Austin’s got more guts than I ever gave him credit for.

“Well, Madigan, and… other guy,” Connor says, “so glad you could make it.” He snaps his fingers and his lackeys standing behind him hurry upstairs.

I wonder if one of them pushed Veronica and Alexis, or if it was Connor himself. He mistook Oliver for me in the dark once. I could believe he’d make the same mistake with Veronica.

We follow Connor upstairs, to what he calls “his office,” and I glance at the floor directly below the loft and instantly regret it. It looks the same as when Oliver fell. The blood’s been cleaned up, but I imagine the stains are still there, underneath the straw. In my mind I hear his screams—first the terror-filled cry as he fell, then the sickening sounds of a body not landing right, and then… Then the shrieks of horror and pain.

I stare at the pile of loose hay on the floor, my stomach queasy, my memories too fresh, and I wonder if there’s anything hiding under them this time besides old blood stains. If maybe instead of laying the trap, I’m falling right into one.

Connor’s got a small round table set up in the loft for the game. He and his lackeys take a seat, and then there’s only one chair left, meant for me, and Austin has to stand. I wonder if it’s on purpose, an oversight, or just a lack of furniture. Connor’s got his Dragon Slayers deck on the table, his beginning hand already dealt.

I shoot a pointed look at him and the cards. “How do I know you’re not cheating? How do I know you didn’t hand pick those out of your deck?”

“Geez, Madigan. Don’t get your trench coat in a wad. I shuffled first, okay? Besides, my deck is stacked with the best. Any cards I pull out of here are going to beat whatever you’ve got.”

“Then you won’t mind shuffling and redrawing.” I plunk my deck on the table and pull off the rubber bands that are holding it together. They snap against my fingers and one is too old and brittle and just breaks apart. I swallow and try not to take it as a bad sign. It’s the cards and the players that matter, nothing else. Not that that’s reassuring, considering what I’m up against.

I shuffle my deck, but Connor leaves his where it is, making no move to redraw his cards.

I raise an eyebrow. “Come on. You’re so afraid I’ll beat you that you have to
cheat
?”

“And I told you, I already shuffled ’em. This is my place of business, not yours, and I’m not going to be accused of cheating in my own territory. We ever play in your office and—oh, wait, we can’t. Your office was
condemned
.” He laughs, and his lackeys sitting on either side of him follow suit. One of them actually snorts.

Fine. I finish shuffling and deal myself the first seven cards off the top as I glance around the loft. Connor’s got a desk shoved into one corner, covered in loose papers and office supplies, with a couple binders piled on top. There’s a closed cabinet with a lock along the back wall. No way to tell if it’s actually locked or not, or if it’s where he keeps his incriminating evidence. Next to it is a beat up trunk and an end table. This is where Connor conducts his business, and that means he’s got records
somewhere
in here.

Connor opens by bringing out a dragon. It’s a foil card, and light from the windows glints off of the stars lining its edges. It’s a white dragon that breathes ice chunks. I scan the cards in my hand, but I don’t have any dragons to bring out yet, just a few spells, and I’m not exactly rolling in foil. I might be good—good enough to go up against Connor, even, and stand a chance of winning—but most of my collection comes from my clients. They’re no richer than I am, unlike Connor, who’s got the cash for the really powerful cards. The kind that sparkle, just to rub it in how much better they are than all the others.

He attacks me, and I counter with a fire spell, making it so I only lose three hit points instead of five. A few seconds into the first round and I’ve already only got seventeen hit points left before I’m out and it’s game over. I take a deep breath and remind myself that I can do this. Connor might be a privileged untouchable at Bright Oaks Junior High, but that doesn’t mean he gets to be one in this game. Not if I can help it.

I draw another card at the beginning of my turn. It’s a dragon. A run of the mill green fire-breather, not even full grown. It’s low on hit points but has a raised chance for a critical hit. Not much of a match for Connor’s sparkling ice dragon, but it might buy me some time and keep me from losing more hit points.

“So,” I say, sliding the dragon card into the middle of the table, “it’s too bad Alexis got hurt.” The room is silent except for the floorboards creaking as Austin shifts from foot to foot. “Because I hear it was an easy bet. Even someone like me, not much cash, could have made a profit.”

“Where’d you hear that?” Connor asks, his lip curling in a snarl.

“Around.” I shrug and drum my fingers on the table. “Whoever was taking the bets, though… Well, he would have had to pay all those people. He would have had to honor those bets, or lose all his cred.”

“Must have been a lot of money,” Austin adds, nodding in agreement.

“Too bad for him,” Connor says. “You going to make your move or what?”

I attack and roll the twenty-sided die. I get an eleven, which should be enough to hit Connor’s dragon for two points, but his card’s got some special rule on it. He counters and rolls the die, then hits my dragon for four points, while his dragon remains unscathed. One more hit and my dragon will be down for the count and I’ll be defenseless again.

It’s my turn and I pull another card off the deck. It’s a spell, gives my dragon extra armor. “So it’s awfully convenient that this guy taking all the bets doesn’t have to pay up, what with Alexis not walking so good. What with her not able to go to the track meet this weekend.” I play my extra defense card and then go for another attack. This time I get a critical and leave Connor’s ice dragon with only two points.

Connor glares at me. “You think you’re pretty smart, don’t you?”

I can’t tell if he means in the game, or if he’s subtly admitting we both know who took all those bets. His two lackeys both narrow their eyes at me, like they wish I’d shut up and lose already.

A few more rounds go by. Connor heals his ice dragon for three more points and brings out a black one that shoots acid. I hang onto my green for one more turn, and then he’s out. I set him on the discard pile—a mass grave, one that the winner keeps at the end of the game.

“The thing is,” I say, taking another card from my deck, “the whole incident’s got me thinking. Because it just so happens that Alexis and Veronica look a lot alike.”

“So unless someone’s got it in for blonds…” Austin says, running a hand through his hair.

“Then someone mixed them up. The funny thing is, it’s hard to say if anyone would have even noticed foul play was involved if it wasn’t for the mistaken hit on Veronica.”

“I bet my friends on the paper would love to hear about that.”

Connor shrugs it off. “It’s not like everyone doesn’t already know who did it.”

“Yeah,” one of his lackeys says. “It was that Danigail girl. Danigail Bates.”

“
Your
girlfriend,” Connor adds, giving me a pointed look. “Maybe you should watch the company you keep.”

I clench my fists, my fingernails biting into my palms. Beside me, Austin sucks in a surprised breath. I guess in all his research on me he never heard that me and Danigail used to be a thing.

“That was a long time ago,” I mutter. “And anyway, I think we all know she didn’t do it. That she
wouldn’t
. Not after what happened—not after what
you did
to Oliver.”

“Finish your turn,” Connor growls.

I’m getting to him, but unfortunately it’s a two way street. I make myself relax my hands, real cool and cucumber-like. The card I picked up from the deck gives me an extra turn. I decide to hold onto it for now.

Connor hits me with both of his dragons, bringing me down to eleven hit points. He still has all twenty. I manage a counterattack that gets his ice dragon down to one point. But if I don’t take at least one of them out in the next turn or two…

My next card I pull from the deck is a red dragon. The card’s a gold edition, though it’s not up to foil quality. For a moment I consider not putting it into play, because if Connor wins, I lose it forever. But that’s not the kind of thinking that’s going to win me this game. And there’s no way I’m going to just roll over and let him win, even if he’s got the upper hand. I put the card on the table and consider my move.

My red dragon breathes lava and he doesn’t have a lot of hit points, but he’s got a special move. I can sacrifice him for a direct hit of ten points on the target I choose, no counterattacks, and there’s a chance I could hit any other dragons the enemy has out for two points each.

A ten point hit won’t kill Connor’s acid breathing black dragon. It would for sure take out his ice dragon, but so would the two hit point bonus attack,
if
I roll high enough to get it. I chew my bottom lip, the back of my neck prickling a little with sweat. Do I for sure take out the ice dragon, or do I risk getting a direct hit from both of them on Connor’s turn?

“I’m guessing whoever did take those bets and sabotaged Alexis had some place where they wrote everything down. Kind of hard to collect your winnings if you don’t keep track of who owes you.”

Connor’s eyes narrow. He glances at the desk behind me, the one with all the loose papers and the couple of binders. “I thought we established it was Danigail Bates.”

“
No
, we didn’t. Danigail didn’t take any bets. That was someone else. And whoever it was, there’s got to be some
record
of it.”

He glances towards the desk again, then at me, and I try not to smile and give myself away. “I wouldn’t know,” Connor says.

Oh, but he does know. And it can’t be a coincidence that every time I mention this “someone’s” betting records, he looks over at his desk. Even as his mouth claims he’s innocent, his eyes tell the truth, giving away his secrets. I nudge Austin with my elbow, trying my hardest to be inconspicuous. “Be ready,” I whisper.

His eyebrows wrinkle a little, because it’s not like I told him what to be ready
for
, but then he nods and pretends like nothing happened.

I take the risk and sacrifice my red dragon, attacking Connor’s black for ten points. It’s still alive, but I’ve knocked it down a couple pegs. Then I roll to see if my dragon explodes lava on the other dragon, and…

The die skitters across the table. I have to roll higher than a fifteen to do the extra damage. It wobbles against a groove in the wood of the tabletop, then lands right in front of Connor, stopping on sixteen.

A smile slides across my face, and I start to think maybe, just maybe, this could still go in my favor. Connor slaps his ice dragon into the discard pile, gritting his teeth.

Then it’s his turn and he attacks—not exactly a surprise—and since I’m now defenseless, I’m the one who takes the damage, bringing me down to five hit points.
Five
. And I haven’t even made a dent on him.

Connor licks his lips and leans back in his chair like he’s already won. “You ready to give up?”

I don’t even dignify that with an answer. I take a card off the deck. It’s the one Eugene gave me yesterday, the one that says,
Use this card to trade hit points with your opponent—can only be activated when all four types of dragons are either in your combat zone or in the discard pile.

My combat zone is completely empty. I’m not winning any prizes for most dragons on the field. But… Between mine and Connor’s losses, there are three out of four dragon types in the discard pile. And the last one—the black one—is sitting right across from me in Connor’s combat zone. So the question is, with only five hit points, can I really finish off his dragon before he finishes me?

Probably not, but it’s worth a try.

“Get something you don’t like?” Connor says, already reaching for his next card.

“Hold it.” I slip the new card in with the rest in my hand. I’ve got two light healing spells for dragons I don’t have, one simple combat spell that, at the most, could hit his dragon for two points. I play the free turn card and take another from the deck, praying for some powerful attack. I’m holding my breath as I flip the card over, and—

It’s not an attack. It’s maybe the most peaceful card in the deck—the princess card. If I play this, all the dragons in play get mixed back into the players’ decks, even mine, if I had any. It means the black dragon won’t go into the discard pile, and I won’t be able to get the upper hand. But if I don’t use it… I study my measly little combat card, the one that has a chance to attack for a whopping two points. It won’t be enough to kill the dragon. But it is likely that Connor’s dragon could kill me on his next turn.