Saltwater Secrets Page 12

  “Sound familiar?” she asked.

  “Nope,” Dario said.

  “Yup,” I said again.

  We got Dario up to speed about what we knew about the Koala.

  Forty-Eight Josie

  Boardwalk

  June 25

  “Murielle duPluie here with breaking news from WLEO. Our own Whalehead police have taken Dr. Rodney Klinger in for questioning under suspicion of his stalking Meredith Maxwell. The teen rock star is moving ahead with her promo event and interview session at the Smoothie Factory, while the rest of the band—Evan, Austin, and Lucien—are on the pier with a crew to build the set for their concert.”

  We stood on the boardwalk by the post where a loudspeaker played WLEO, and we listened to Murielle duPluie’s report.

  “That’s our fault,” I said.

  “Yup,” Stella agreed. “We should’ve been way more careful what we told Booth.”

  “What do you think will happen to Dr. Rodney?”

  “He’s just being questioned. Dr. Rodney is a little weird, but I don’t think he’s a stalker. Do you?” Stella asked.

  “No. But how do you explain those photos? Why all the interest in Meredith?”

  “There has to be another reason. Maybe he really is a huge fan,” Stella suggested, but I didn’t even think she believed it.

  A crowd formed, and people moved toward the Smoothie Factory.

  “Where are they all going?” I asked.

  “To see Meredith Maxwell.”

  As sure as the smell of fries drifted through the air, she finally arrived. She was prettier in person, albeit a little shorter than I’d imagined. She wore distressed, white cropped jeans and a sleeveless top that hung short in the front, just above her waist, and longer in the back. Her brownish-blond-ombré hair was adorned with beachy braids and twists. Meredith was flanked by two burly men in black pants and white T-shirts that were tight on their chests, and biceps that Tucker could only dream of having one day.

  “I can’t believe she’s doing a promo shoot for that place. She has no idea what type of a business she’s supporting,” I said. “If she knew, there’s no way she’d do it.”

  We watched for a beat, and I got an idea. “That’s it! Stell, we’ll tell her what they’re doing and tell her how dangerous the concert is. It’s so simple. Once she knows, she’ll help us.”

  Meredith looked at the array of fans gathered and waved. “Hello, Whalehead,” she cried. “I’m doing a quick video shoot in my favorite spot for a cold, healthy drink, and then I plan on having a little fun, if you know what I mean.” She pointed to Kevin’s Fun House. “After that I’ll be back at the Factory to mix some of my own concoctions and talk with your local media, then call it a day. I want to thank everyone for welcoming me, and also I want to thank”—she leaned her ear toward a woman who offered a whisper—“Cassandra Winterhalter?”

  “Over here!” a voice screamed out from the crowd, but it was tough to tell exactly who it came from.

  Meredith said, “Cassandra is the head of my local fan club and led the effort for my welcome poster that many of you were kind enough to sign. I’ll cherish it always.” With another wave, she ducked inside the Smoothie Factory while her men guarded the door.

  “Oh, she’s so super nice,” I said. “I’m sure that if we told her what was going on, she could fix everything. She’d totally cancel the concert, and Mayor Lopez would listen to her and close the pier.”

  “Yup. We just have to explain it to her, and everything will be fine. But how?” Stella asked.

  I said, “If only we could get her alone for a few minutes.”

  Stella said, “She’ll be in the Smoothie Factory shooting her video, then the fun house.”

  Forty-Nine Josie

  Police Station

  June 26 (Continued)

  “And that’s when I got the idea. I told Stella how we could get Meredith’s attention.”

  “What did you tell Stella?”

  “My plan: to go to Kevin’s Fun House ahead of Meredith, and when she got to the trapdoor, we’d bring her under the boardwalk and tell her everything. Once she knew, she’d help us expose the Smoothie Factory, the danger on the pier, cancel or postpone the concert, and everything would be fixed. I mean, we were on the verge of disaster without a lot of options.”

  “It was your idea, Josie?”

  “Yeah. Stella didn’t want to do it. She said it was a bad idea, but I told her not to be a wimp.”

  Detective Santoro looks carefully at the pages of his little flippy notebook. “Miss Higley, are you saying that you made a plan to kidnap Meredith Maxwell?”

  “Kidnap? No. That was Meredith Maxwell’s word.” I stop to think. “It sounds really bad when you say it that way.”

  “How would you say it?”

  “We just wanted to talk to her. Privately. We would never kidnap anyone.”

  He does that thing where he lets the room be quiet. I hate that thing.

  I’m basically forced to say more. “To ask for her help.”

  He shifts in his seat. “This was your plan?”

  “All mine. Totally. One hundred percent. I’m like a mastermind.”

  Part Three Stella

  Fifty Stella

  Police Station

  June 26 (Continued)

  “Things were moving fast now. The concert was, like, forty-eight hours away. We needed to act,” I say. “I told Josie how we could get Meredith alone.”

  “Your idea?” Santoro confirms.

  “Yup.” I add, “Josie didn’t like it at all. She didn’t want to do it.”

  Santoro flips open his notebook. This is the juicy part he’s been waiting for. “What did you want to do?”

  “Approach Meredith Maxwell for help.”

  “How?”

  “By getting her attention. Talking to her alone.”

  “How were you going to do that?”

  “She was going to Kevin’s Fun House after the Smoothie Factory.” I add, “I planned to get her under the boardwalk, where we could talk in private.”

  “So, let me get this straight, Stella. You planned to kidnap Meredith Maxwell?”

  “I don’t know why everyone is using that word. Meredith was being way dramatic on the pier,” I explain. “More like borrow.”

  “And Josie went along with this?”

  “Heck no. You see, Josie plans to run for president of her school’s marine conservation society in the fall. And she wouldn’t do anything wrong. Nothing to jeopardize that.” I add, “This was all me.”

  Fifty-One Stella

  Under the Boardwalk

  June 25 (Continued)

  We were hiding among the foam pillars when we heard Meredith Maxwell coming. As I’d thought, her big beefy bodyguards couldn’t fit. She said to them, “I’ll meet you at the exit.” One of them grunted in agreement.

  Meredith wiggled through the pillars, and when she scaled the rope bridge, we were right behind her. I did a quick slide of the barrel, and a hot sec later Meredith’s butt landed on the sand in our secret place under the boardwalk. Josie and I were right behind her.

  “Hey,” I said to her.

  “Sorry about that,” Josie said, pointing to the hard sand.

  Meredith’s face was bright red. And it wasn’t from the sun. “What the heck!? Who are you people?”

  “I can’t believe you’re here.” Josie looked as if Santa had just brought her the pink bike with sparkly tassels hanging off the handlebars that she’d been dying for.

  Meredith stood and assumed a defensive martial arts pose with her legs apart and arms up. “Bring it. I’m trained. I can totally take you two.” She looked me up and down. “Especially you.”

  “I’m stronger than I look.” I straightened up. “And I’m from New York, so—”

  “Ohhh, New York. That makes, like”—she paused and spit out—“no difference at all! What do you want? A picture? An autograph? Me to go to your birthday party?”


  Josie said, “I imagined you to be much friendlier than this.” Then she added, “We just wanna talk to you. We have something super important that you’re gonna want to hear.”

  Josie seemed to relax Meredith a little. Her accent had that effect on people.

  “You’re obviously not from New York,” Meredith said. “Australia?”

  Josie nodded.

  “Cool. I love it there.” Meredith dropped her arms, as if the fact that Josie was an Aussie indicated that she was no longer in danger, which it did. Well, she never was.

  There were the sounds of feet stomping overhead. “Hear that?” Meredith asked. “There are people looking for me. I could yell right now.”

  “Are you kidding me?” I asked. “It sounds like that all the time: joggers, skateboarders who aren’t supposed to be skateboarding, crying kids, loud music, the merry-go-round. Go ahead and yell—no one will notice.” I took out my phone and checked the time. “We have another good twelve minutes before people wonder why you haven’t come out of the fun house.” I didn’t totally believe this, but it sounded like it could be true, although it was equally possible that some of those footsteps were people running around frantically looking for Meredith. Also, while I had my phone out, I noticed it was close to the time we should check in with Dad. I dropped him a text and showed Josie, so she would know I did it.

  Josie nodded about the text, then said, “She’s right. There’s a lot to see and do in the fun house, so we have time.”

  “Look,” I said. “We didn’t mean to scare you; we just really needed to get you alone, because this is way important. Life or death.”

  “Well, there are probably better ways to do that other than kidnapping,” she said. “Because now you’re gonna be in, like, insanely big trouble.”

  “Kidnapping?” Josie asked, incredulous. “That isn’t what this is.”

  I thought about the last few minutes. “Maybe that’s what it feels like, but it’s not like that at all. You aren’t in any danger.”

  “Just being held against my will,” Meredith said sarcastically.

  “You know, you’re really being extra right now,” I said.

  Josie added, “And no one is holding anyone. You can leave anytime you want.”

  “Fine. Then I want to leave right now.”

  “Sure,” I said, stepping into her path. “As soon as you listen to this.”

  “See, that’s against my will.”

  Josie said, “If you’ll just listen, this will only take a quick wink.”

  Meredith crossed her arms in front of her chest and tapped her foot like she didn’t have time for this. We hadn’t considered that Meredith would be such a jerk. “Well, go on. I’m a celebrity with a very busy schedule.”

  “Here’s the deal—” I started.

  “No,” she interrupted me. “You tell me,” she said to Josie. “I don’t like you,” she said to me. And the feeling was mutual.

  Josie looked at me. “It’s okay. I got this.” She went through the situation: The Smoothie Factory was making their amazing shakes using wattle berries from Australia, where farming the berries was banned because they’re harmful to the ecosystem. Some guy was bringing berries to Whalehead on a boat called the Koala. When the Smoothie Factory processed the berries in its basement, it created an organic by-product that drained into the ocean.

  “Two things happen when this chemical hits the water. It eats away at the pylons, which is damaging the stability of the pier, making it totally dangerous for people to be on it.”

  “And the second thing?” Meredith asked impatiently.

  “The lovely medusa jellies ingest it, and their delicate digestive systems can’t handle it, and they die.” Josie added, “The medusas here in Whalehead are dying.”

  Meredith didn’t say anything right away. I think she was contemplating how she should react:

  Mean: Oh, cry me a river.

  Sympathetic: That’s the saddest thing I’ve ever heard.

  What Meredith said was, “This is all very unbelievable, you know?”

  “We have proof,” Josie said.

  Meredith noodled over this. “I can see why you’re so worried, but what do you want me to do about it? I mean, what does any of this have to do with me?”

  “No one will listen to us,” I said.

  Josie added, “But they’ll listen to you.”

  “Fine. I’ll tell the authorities, and you’ll just let me go?”

  “We aren’t keeping you here; you can walk away anytime you want. Right there.” I pointed to the sand path between the two buildings, which lead to Thirty-Fourth Street. She went to walk in that direction, and I stepped in front of her again. “You’ll cancel the concert?”

  “No one said anything about canceling the concert. I can’t cancel a concert! Do you know all the hype that this concert is getting?”

  Josie said, “But the pier could collapse, and all those people, including you, will fall into the ocean! Think about your bandmates—Evan, Austin, and Lucien.”

  “Collapse?” Meredith asked Josie.

  Josie nodded. “Look, you can leave. Stella, move out of her way. But we really hope you’ll help us.”

  Josie did a great job pushing all the hot buttons—dead fish, dead fans, dead bandmates. I expected the next thing Meredith was going to do was agree to help.

  The plan had worked perfectly.

  * * *

  But then, like all perfect things, something changed.

  Fifty-Two Stella

  Under the Boardwalk

  June 25 (Continued)

  Someone else jumped down!

  All the years that we’d been slipping through the trapdoor from the fun house, this had never happened to us.

  She knocked me over and landed on top of me.

  “Who are you?” Josie asked.

  “Seriously? You don’t know who I am?” She looked at Meredith. “You do, right?”

  Meredith didn’t offer a name or hint of recognition.

  The girl put her hand on her chest. “I’m Cassandra.” She climbed off me.

  I never forget a face. “Cassandra Winterhalter!” I exclaimed.

  Cassandra tilted her head and said to Meredith, “I’m you’re number one fan.” After just a beat, she added, “I organized that welcome sign. Everyone signed it.” She looked at me and Josie. “You two did. I remember.”

  “We did,” Josie confirmed. “The first day.”

  “Well, gee, thanks,” Meredith said. “That’s… um… it’s a great sign.” It’s a good thing Meredith was a good singer, because she was a terrible actress. I didn’t believe for a hot sec that she thought that was a great sign or that she appreciated it.

  Cassandra said, “And, as is my duty as your number one fan, I keep a close eye on you, even when you don’t know it. And I noticed that you were in trouble, and I’ve come to rescue you.”

  “She totally is not in any trouble,” I clarified as I wiped sand off my butt.

  Josie assured Cassandra, “This is just a friendly convo.”

  “Oh really? Didn’t look that way to me,” Cassandra said.

  “Look, I’m sorry to break up this little par-tay, but me and Meredith have someplace to be.”

  “We do?” Meredith asked.

  “Yeah. I sent you a letter—don’t you remember?”

  Meredith said, “Um, yeah, sure I do.” Again, terrible acting.

  “Then let’s go. I made a promise, and I’m gonna keep it,” Cassandra said.

  “What promise is that?” I asked. I figured we’d have to rescue Meredith from her number one fan, who seemed to be kidnapping her.

  “That she and I would ride the Minotaur together,” she said. “Let’s do it.”

  “I don’t know if now is the right time for us to do that,” Meredith said. “I’m on a schedule for this promotional tour gig, and I have a hair appointment.”

  Cassandra ignored the hair appointment, took Meredith by the elbow, a
nd said, “Just think of the photo op for your social media.”

  Meredith tilted her head as if Cassandra had made an interesting point. Then she winced from the tight squeeze. “Not so hard, though. I bruise.”

  “Sorry,” Cassandra said. “But let’s get going.”

  “Maybe we’ll go with you,” I suggested, because even though Meredith Maxwell was a jerk to us, and she swore that she had the ninja skills to get away if she wanted to, I felt responsible for this situation, and I wanted to try to help her, or at least keep her company.

  Josie, understanding what I was trying to do, said, “Now, that sounds like wicked fun. Let’s all go.”

  “No!” Cassandra snapped. “I am her number one fan. Not you.” She narrowed her glare at us. “Don’t you two mess this up for me. The photo caption will read, ‘Meredith Maxwell and her number one fan ride the world-famous Minotaur together.’ ”

  As she led Meredith to Thirty-Fourth Street, I heard Cassandra whisper, “Where are we getting our hair done?”

  Fifty-Three Stella

  Police Station

  June 26 (Continued)

  I sit forward in my seat and say to Santoro, “So, things get a little cray.”

  He straightens up, flips a page, and starts writing faster. “What happened?”

  “Cassandra led Meredith down the sand alleyway to Thirty-Fourth Street. Before they were out of sight, she turned to me and Josie and said, ‘Don’t cross me, Stella and Josie Higley.’ ”

  Santoro keeps writing this all down.

  “She knew our names!”

  “So you waited there?”

  “No way!” I puff my chest out a bit. “You know what a New Yorker does when someone pushes them? We push back!”

  Just one corner of his mouth lifts the tiniest bit.

  “Now, Josie was another story; she isn’t naturally the pushing type.”

  “So what did you do?” Santoro asks.

  Fifty-Four Stella