Free Oliver Twisted (An Ivy Meadows Mystery Book 3) by Cindy Brown

intuition about people. “What exactly did you see?”
    Timothy leaned close. “Val bumped into that guy.” He pointed at a large man standing in the buffet line. “And I swear he reached into his back pocket.”
    Though I was pretty sure Timothy’s sighting was the result of an overactive imagination, I did watch Val out of the corner of my eye. He bowed and scraped and flirted outrageously, but I never saw him do anything remotely suspicious.
    The big man Timothy had pointed out headed toward a table near us where a woman sat with two kids. They all wore shorts and t-shirts with sayings on them. The man, whose shirt said, “I’d wrap that in bacon,” sat down heavily at the table. “When do you think the ship’s gonna disappear?” he said to his wife. Her chest read, “I’m not short. I’m fun-size.”
    “Oh, honey.” The guy’s wife clucked in sympathy. “I asked, and they said it’s not that David Copperfield. I’m so sorry.”
    “Happens more often than you’d think,” Timothy whispered.
    “Oh.” The guy’s face fell. “Well, at least the food’s good.” He tucked into his dinner.
    “There is a magic show though,” said his wife. “ Fagin’s Magic Handkerchief .”
    “The pressure’s on,” Timothy said.
    And my nausea was back. I pushed myself away from the table and tried to get my mind off silks and audiences and splats of Ivy on the stage floor. My cell buzzed, telling me I had new messages. “Hey, I must have a signal.” I took my phone out of my Victorian-style pocket, basically a small muslin bag attached to a cord that tied around my waist underneath my gown. My overskirt had a slit sewn into it that gave me direct access to the pocket underneath. Very handy, so to speak.
    “Grab it quick,” Timothy said. “Before we go out of range again.”
    I flipped through a bunch of emails, an old text from Uncle Bob, several missed calls, and one new message. I called voicemail.
    “Hi.” My brother’s voice. “Can you talk to Stu?” A sweet guy with Down Syndrome, Stu was Cody’s best friend at the group home. “He’s mad about—” He paused. “Stu? Where are you going? Never mind, Olive-y.” That was Cody’s pet name for me, a combination of Olive and Ivy. He hung up.
    The call didn’t help the queasy feeling in my gut. Cody never called me. I ran the conversation over in my mind. I was pretty sure I knew what Stu was mad about. When I saw Cody last week, he told me Stu had been put on a diet. Diets made me cranky too. Still, I decided to call.
    “Dang.” No reception. I held up my phone, trying to find a few bars. Nothing.
    “I want to go to the Penny Arcade,” said the oldest of the t-shirt family kids, “The World’s Okayest Brother” according to his shirt.
    Get Lit! cruises tried to appeal to families seeking to further their children’s education, so each ship had a few kid-friendly activities onboard. The S.S. David Copperfield featured a Curiosity Shoppe that hosted scavenger hunts, Scrooge’s Haunted House (occupied by the three Christmas ghosts plus a pretty spooky Marley), and an arcade that featured Dickens-themed video games, like Betsey Trotwood’s Donkey Kong (David Copperfield’s great-aunt Betsey hated donkeys).
    “I need some cash,” said the kid.
    “Again?” said his mother.
    “I wouldn’t, if Dad would let me have a sail-and-sign card.”
    “Buddy, you’re the last person who needs a sail-and-sign card,” his dad said.
    I stood up from the table and walked a few feet, trying to see if any bars magically appeared on my phone, so I was close enough to see the guy’s ruddy face turn pale.
    “Damn,” he said, standing and patting his pockets. “My wallet’s gone.”

CHAPTER 14
    Still Improving

      
    “So what do you know about Valery?” I asked Timothy as we ran down the stairs to the crew cabin area. My stomach lurched with every step, but we had to move quickly in time for me to grab a change of clothes and get to