Trouble Always Finds Me
By James Taylor and Marco Sparks
()
About this ebook
Jenny Valentine won the prize. Keeping it won't be easy.
She's filthy rich, she's dating the head cheerleader, she's blackmailing the star athlete, and she's got an ace up her sleeve that no one will see coming. Life is good for Jenny Valentine, the tiny teenage sleuth and misanthropic heiress to the late RJ Valentine's bestselli
James Taylor
James Taylor has been writing professionally about cars since the late 1970s, and his interests embrace a wide range of older cars of all makes and nationalities, as well as classic buses, lorries and military vehicles. He has written several books about BMW cars within a portfolio that now consists of well over 130 books. Many of these have been definitive one-make or one-model titles, including a number for Crowood. He has also written for enthusiast magazines in several countries, has translated books from foreign languages, and makes sure he always has something old and interesting in the garage.
Read more from James Taylor
Real-World Decision Modeling with DMN: Effective Communication of Decision-Making Rating: 0 out of 5 stars0 ratingsPoker Face Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5The Voyage of the Beagle: Darwin's Extraordinary Adventure Aboard FitzRoy's Famous Survey Ship Rating: 0 out of 5 stars0 ratingsShareholder Democracies?: Corporate Governance in Britain and Ireland before 1850 Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5Gramática De La Lengua Inglesa: A Complete English Grammar Workbook for Spanish Speakers Rating: 1 out of 5 stars1/5James Taylor: Cut Short Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5The Rise and Fall of the Sideshow Geek: Snake Eaters, Human Ostriches, & Other Extreme Entertainments Rating: 0 out of 5 stars0 ratingsThe Earth Rating: 0 out of 5 stars0 ratingsThe Quintessential Porcine History of Philosophy and Religion Rating: 3 out of 5 stars3/5The Baby Makers: The Emu Club Rating: 0 out of 5 stars0 ratingsDudek Rating: 3 out of 5 stars3/5Identifying the Truth Rating: 0 out of 5 stars0 ratingsSherlock Holmes and the Element of Surprise: The Wormwood Scrubs Enigma Rating: 3 out of 5 stars3/5The Dead Guy Rating: 0 out of 5 stars0 ratingsPrecision Agriculture for Grain Production Systems Rating: 0 out of 5 stars0 ratingsHawke Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5The Human Primer Rating: 0 out of 5 stars0 ratingsJaponica Secrets Rating: 0 out of 5 stars0 ratingsPack Up Your Troubles: How Humorous Postcards Helped to Win World War I Rating: 0 out of 5 stars0 ratingsRange Rover Specification Guide: First Generation Models 1970–1996 Rating: 0 out of 5 stars0 ratingsRover's Rebirth: The Post War Renaissance 1945-1953 Rating: 0 out of 5 stars0 ratings
Related to Trouble Always Finds Me
Titles in the series (3)
My Name is Trouble Rating: 0 out of 5 stars0 ratingsTrouble Always Finds Me Rating: 0 out of 5 stars0 ratingsTrouble Takes a Holiday Rating: 0 out of 5 stars0 ratings
Related ebooks
Out Of Retirement Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5Trouble Takes a Holiday Rating: 0 out of 5 stars0 ratingsDead Woman's Curse Rating: 0 out of 5 stars0 ratingsFate Deals The Cards: A Stella Kirk Mystery # 6 Rating: 0 out of 5 stars0 ratingsDangerous Web: The Forbidden Destiny Sexy Suspense Series, #3 Rating: 0 out of 5 stars0 ratingsWild In The Moonlight Rating: 0 out of 5 stars0 ratingsWinterwood Lane Rating: 0 out of 5 stars0 ratingsThe Photo Thief Rating: 0 out of 5 stars0 ratingsStella Kirk Mystery Series: Bundle # 2 Sand In My Suitcase & Fictional Truth Rating: 0 out of 5 stars0 ratingsSand In My Suitcase: A Stella Kirk Mystery # 3 Rating: 5 out of 5 stars5/5Dirge of the Witch Haints: An Ezekiel Crane Paranormal Mystery, #2 Rating: 0 out of 5 stars0 ratingsSeduced by the Baron Rating: 0 out of 5 stars0 ratingsBundle of Deceit Rating: 0 out of 5 stars0 ratingsThe Princess And The P.I. Rating: 0 out of 5 stars0 ratingsSkyway To HELL: Lost and Found, Inc., #6 Rating: 0 out of 5 stars0 ratingsPretty is as Pretty Dies: A Myrtle Clover Cozy Mystery, #1 Rating: 3 out of 5 stars3/5The Rosewood Chronicles #3: The Lost Princess Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5Blind Fate: The Technicians, #4 Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5Lunatic Detective Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5Reunited in the Snow Rating: 0 out of 5 stars0 ratingsThe Haunted Purse Rating: 0 out of 5 stars0 ratingsTangled Roots - New Edition: Alex & Briggie Mysteries, #3 Rating: 0 out of 5 stars0 ratingsThe Flapper, the Scientist, and the Saboteur Rating: 0 out of 5 stars0 ratingsThe Summit Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5The Awkward Truth Rating: 5 out of 5 stars5/5Read It and Weep! Rating: 5 out of 5 stars5/5Stolen: A Kieran Yeats Mystery Rating: 0 out of 5 stars0 ratingsWisteria, Witchery, and Woe: Deepwood Witches Mysteries, #2 Rating: 5 out of 5 stars5/5A Patch of Yellow Rating: 0 out of 5 stars0 ratingsMum's Dance Rating: 0 out of 5 stars0 ratings
YA Mysteries & Detective Stories For You
Pretty Little Liars Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5The Unbecoming of Mara Dyer Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5The Lie Tree Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5Going Dark Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5Bloodmarked Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5Truly Devious: A Mystery Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5The Vanishing Stair Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5The Suspect Next Door Rating: 5 out of 5 stars5/5The Left-Handed Booksellers of London Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5Clown in a Cornfield Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5Six Months Later Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5The Hand on the Wall Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5Dead on Target Rating: 5 out of 5 stars5/5Pretty Little Liars #2: Flawless Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5The River Has Teeth Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5Also Known As Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5Enola Holmes and the Boy in Buttons Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5White Rabbit Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5Girl at Sea Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5Strange Girl Rating: 3 out of 5 stars3/5The Paper Girl of Paris Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5Do the Math: Secrets, Lies, and Algebra Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5We Were Kings Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5Dead Girls Can't Tell Secrets Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5The Silence of Bones Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5Take Rating: 5 out of 5 stars5/5Nancy Drew: The Curse Rating: 3 out of 5 stars3/5
Reviews for Trouble Always Finds Me
0 ratings0 reviews
Book preview
Trouble Always Finds Me - James Taylor
Trouble Always Finds Me
Copyright 2020 © by James Taylor & Marco Sparks. All rights reserved. No parts of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews. For more information, visit:
mynameistrouble.com
Print ISBN: 978-1-7330662-2-8
eBook ISBN: 978-1-7330662-3-5
Cover artwork by Michael Manuel
First Edition, 2020
For mentors and teachers
Trouble Always Finds Me
James Taylor
story by James Taylor & Marco Sparks
CHAPTER ONE
The Good Twin
NO MATTER HOW many times she read it, that first entry in Nurse Bennett’s journal never failed to give her the shivers.
March 10. Trouble in the ER last night. Pregnant girl blew in with the storm. Soaked to the bone, wild-eyed and screaming, barely 23. Says Valerie Valentine is trying to kill her. Delivered just after midnight. Surprise surprise, it’s twins.
Five days later, that pregnant girl would be dead.
Mom…
She’d been thinking a lot about narratives lately. It was hard not to around her sister. Sometimes, it was like things fit too perfectly to be chance. Did Mom sense that her story was coming to an end? Would she? Was it happening right now?
How did you find me?!
the Fortune Teller screeched, pulling the paper bag off her head and punching her in the face.
Something popped, and white novas of pain exploded in her hazy vision. For a panicked second, she thought her orbital bone had fractured. It was the Fortune Teller who cried out, though, wincing and recoiling and cradling her wrist. Good. Now if the room would just stop spinning…
Her brown eyes squinted through the bangs of her crimson wig—Drew’s favorite—as she fought against the dull pressure gnawing away at her consciousness. Drugged. Goddamnit, the tea had been drugged—and she’d drunk it like an amateur, not even waiting to see how Drew reacted first. How embarrassing. And she was supposed to be the smart one.
Her dim surroundings swam into focus. A haggard lady with a rats nest of gray hair loomed, her jaundiced pallor that spoke of methamphetamine abuse. Walls draped in black velvet, crystals and curio cabinets, a single light floating above. Drew Porter, her burly sidekick and Trouble super-fan, face-planted on the scrying table next to her with a Raley’s bag over his head. Like her, he was bound to his chair at the wrists with several loops of twine. Unlike her, he was still out cold.
Some bodyguard you are,
she said to his prone form.
They were in the backroom of The Mystic Madame, a cheap psychic joint in a forgotten corner of a forgotten strip mall in Petaluma. The muffled patter of January rain drifted in through the ceiling. She knew from too many YouTube videos that there would be a footswitch under the Fortune Teller’s chair that killed the light and made the crystal ball glow. A nice parlor trick, and a better distraction, if she could just reach the switch.
Answer me! Or I’ll do for your other eye too!
her captor shouted again, breath like a rancid diaper.
What are you, like 90? Go on, break your other wrist.
That earned her the back of the Fortune Teller’s uninjured hand.
This was the sort of shit that Jenny Valentine—aka Trouble, the pint-sized girl detective who never found herself in a jam she couldn’t mischief her way out of—practiced for. Lived for. But she wasn’t Jenny Valentine. She was the other one. The ace in the hole. The secret twin.
March 12. Her name is Laura Onishi, the new mom. It seems Dad is Valerie Valentine’s husband. Laura is absolutely paranoid that Val is out to get her, refuses to let her babies leave her sight. Being difficult. Younger twin Elizabeth has an infection, needs the incubator. Doctor Singh is losing patience. I told him not to worry, didn’t he see the birth certificate?
Danger is this baby’s middle name. He didn’t appreciate it.
For most of her life, Eliza—as she preferred to be called these days—believed that her mother was a Jane Doe who died in childbirth at Santa Rosa Memorial Hospital in California. A silver-haired nurse from the ER named Rose Bennett took pity and adopted her. Shortly after, they left the North Bay behind for a suburb in East Sacramento. Eliza never had any reason to question this narrative, and honestly, she didn’t really care who her father was. It was just the two of them, and she was content; the brainy little adopted half-Japanese girl who idolized Hermione Granger and wanted to be a doctor when she grew up.
Nurse Bennett had seen 52 winters and lacked the energy to keep up with Eliza after long shifts in the Med Center emergency room. So from an early age, they struck a deal. Eliza would behave, pull down good grades, and practice a hobby. In return, she’d get all the best privileges: the giant box of crayons, a Happy Meal every Friday, a TV in her room. She even got to skip school to go to midnight releases of the last two Harry Potter movies. When she got straight A’s for a whole year in Third Grade, Nurse Bennett bought her a new American Girl doll and all the accessories. Over the years, she took piano lessons, learned to juggle, did ballet, even earned a black belt in Taekwondo. Life was good.
Until four years ago, when Nurse Bennett violated the deal and got herself diagnosed with Alzheimer’s, then, everything changed.
Honestly, it wasn’t that hard to find you,
Eliza said, glaring at the old lady. It only took a while. I guess RJ didn’t have time to war-drive to every two-bit Psychic in the North Bay on Yelp. You should have switched Tarot decks.
It was still weird, thinking of RJ Valentine, the late and legendary author of the Trouble: Girl Detective book series as Dad.
March 13. Laura has relented and let Baby Danger stay in the incubator. Infection should clear up in a few days. She’s still paranoid about being followed, but I assured her I hadn’t seen anything out of the ordinary in the ER. Except for her, that is.
Nurse Bennett had been getting increasingly absentminded for a few years already, with Eliza picking up more and more of her slack. Reminding her adoptive mother when to pay the bills. Buying groceries with the family debit card. Pretending it was a private inside joke when her mom couldn’t remember a neighbor’s name. The first time Nurse Bennett forgot who Eliza was, it was terrifying. She kept saying, Danger. Danger.
After the diagnosis, Nurse Bennett had to retire. They sold the house and moved to a smaller place in the Auburn Foothills to save money. Trips to Disneyland for a flawless report card were no longer on the table. No more Shakespeare Camp, no more archery lessons. Eliza was to be homeschooled,
which meant keeping an eye on her mom while taking classes online.
The tests were easy; Eliza’s attention wandered. She grew restless and reckless, cooped up in that shabby house with all the responsibility now, and none of the reward. Her old friends had drifted away, but the internet was always there to shock and horrify and entertain her. At night, she delved deep into the dark corners of the web: X-rated tumblrs, troll forums, K-pop fandom. She brigaded shitty gamer dudes, traded memes, and invented new online personas, relishing in the chaos she could cause. Years passed in quiet desolation.
A week before her 15th birthday, Nurse Bennett sat her down. It was time, she said. There was a very important secret that needed telling, and she’d better tell it while she still remembered.
Eliza could still recall the moment, sitting on the couch under that scratchy throw blanket she always hated. She was only half-listening, worried this was another delusion. According to Nurse Bennett, Eliza’s actual birthday was today! Eliza’s birth mother wasn’t a Jane Doe after all. She was a grad student who’d had an affair with an English professor and aspiring author named RJ Valentine. Yes, that RJ—
Valentine?
the Fortune Teller sucked in a breath through missing teeth and leveled a cold, deadly stare at Eliza. He got what was coming to him.
What, he fuck you over or something? What was your beef with him?
asked Eliza.
I’m going to have to kill you both,
the Fortune Teller said absently, glancing around the room with calculating eyes that sent a chill down Eliza’s spine. She was far too detached, like maybe she’d done this before.
Hey hey hey, enough of that talk!
Eliza said, writhing in panic under the rough twine that restrained her. Have you seen how big this guy is?
She jutted her chin at Drew’s passed-out bulk. Let’s work something out.
Don’t matter how big when he’s unconscious,
said the Fortune Teller, opening and closing drawers in a nearby armoire.
That’s not what I mean. You’re not thinking this through,
Eliza said, her mind racing ahead of the stiletto dagger her captor had just produced. Do you know how hard it is to get away with murder when there’s a body? Can you even imagine how many pieces you’re gonna have to chop this guy into before you can carry him to Lake Berryessa in small, watertight, durable plastic bags, weighted down with lead fishing tackle?
The Fortune Teller was appalled. Drew groaned.
What the fuck, Jenny?
came his muffled voice from under the paper bag.
March 15. I shouldn’t have told her. A friend works at Blackbird Springs General, says Valerie Valentine just gave birth to a son of her own. When Laura found out, she wouldn’t wait any longer, even with Elizabeth still recovering from the infection. She packed up the other baby and looked me dead in the eye and said:
No matter what you hear, no matter how much it might seem like an accident, if something happens to me or my baby, it’s murder. If I don’t come back, you take Lizzy, and you hide her from Valerie Valentine! Insisted I swear on it. Sure. Fine. Anything to calm her down.
Narratives. Mom knew hers was coming to an end. Knew Val was involved. She told Nurse Bennett so that one day, Nurse Bennett would tell Eliza, and Eliza would have her revenge. If that was the story, Eliza should make it through this, right? She still had a story of her own. Or was framing Val for murder already vengeance served?
Who told you to wake up?
With surprising speed, the Fortune Teller yanked Drew upright and pulled off the bag covering his face. His normally golden-brown skin had gone ashen from whatever they’d been dosed with.
How much did you give him?
Eliza asked, more panicked than she wanted to admit.
Not enough,
said the Fortune Teller.
Drew barely had time to blink in surprise before the Fortune Teller grabbed his chin and forced more tea down his throat. He spit it back in her face, the magnificent bastard. Eliza’s heart fluttered as Drew growled in defiance and said, I prefer hot chocolate!
He was such a dork! She could kiss him, but in a heartbeat, the stiletto was back in the Fortune Teller’s injured hand, this time its needle-sharp point twitching an inch from Eliza’s neck.
Drink!
the Fortune Teller commanded, holding up the cup of tea to Drew’s mouth with her other hand.
Drew threw desperate glances at Eliza and the dagger.
She was doing the math, trying to figure their odds with Drew unconscious again when a familiar pattern from her Apple Watch tapped her on the wrist.
It’s okay,
Eliza said to him. Give us a little time for some girl talk.
Drew scowled. Jenny—
Trust me,
she said.
He flared his nostrils and gave the Fortune Teller a feral grin. You have no idea who you’re dealing with,
he said, rather ironically, and drank the tea.
Within seconds, his eyes were drooping. The Fortune Teller covered his head with the paper bag again and Drew face planted back into oblivion.
So RJ,
Eliza said, picking up the thread and hoping to keep her captor occupied. Come on, I never met him. Tell me, what did Daddy do to you?
March 16: Oh my god! On KRON tonight, ‘Deadly Traffic Accident on Highway 12.’ They showed a picture, and it was her, it was Laura Onishi! She’s dead! Did Val really have her killed?? No mention of the other twin, Jennifer. Oh my god, what do I do?
Nurse Bennett’s secret was out, and Eliza couldn’t help but snort in derision. It was a joke, right? You couldn’t just hide a person. That was impossible. But as Nurse Bennett told it, she’d made Eliza’s mom a promise and felt honor-bound to keep it. With the help of Doctor Singh, they fabricated a death certificate for Elizabeth Danger Valentine. Then, a new birth certificate for a Jane Doe baby that Eliza was to become.
Just in time, too. The next morning, a stranger in a black suit and overcoat had come to the hospital, asking about Laura’s other child. Officially, Eliza had died from a neonatal infection. They turned the stranger away, Nurse Bennett adopted the Jane Doe infant, and they moved to another city at the first opportunity. From then on, not a word was spoken of Eliza’s real parents.
Not for 15 years.
Not until Nurse Bennett’s memory was fading and time was running out. After Eliza laughed it off, Nurse Bennett opened her antique wooden jewelry box and reached inside. Eliza had been borrowing shiny bracelets and necklaces from it for years and somehow never noticed it had a false bottom. Out came several pages of a journal, still ragged at the edges from the diary they’d been hastily ripped out of, and a pink and blue document. Eliza’s real birth certificate. Eliza’s real middle name.
What about her twin sister? Was she killed in the accident too? Nurse Bennett didn’t know or couldn’t remember. What were they talking about again?
It was at the county fair last spring,
said the Fortune Teller, gently stroking her injured wrist, her eyes far away. Valentine was there, signing books. My husband and I had a booth nearby. Every few hours, Tomas would walk down the line for RJ’s autograph and do a cattle call, and I’d do some cold reads to drum up business.
She hissed, still aggrieved about what came next.
I did a reading on some young lady. I guess it was his daughter.
Wait—Tori?
She was a real superior bitch.
The Fortune Teller licked her lips. Didn’t like my read. Said I’d insulted her. Excuse me for smelling the vodka on her breath. She went and complained to daddy. The next time I went out for a show, RJ was waiting.
Her voice caught in her throat. "He somehow knew that Tomas had an old warrant and got the sheriff to arrest him. Then he dismantled me. Exposed me. Gave away every trick I had in front of a huge crowd. Even pulled off my turban and wig, said I was from Turlock and ‘cultural appropriating.’ And everyone laughed and laughed, because he was RJ Valentine, the Gentleman Sleuth, just showing off for his fans.
It was humiliating. He ruined us. We couldn’t work in Blackbird Springs after that. We were broke, and Tomas couldn’t afford the legal fees, only saw one way out.
She sniffled. The dumb idiot didn’t even check the insurance policy first. It wouldn’t pay out for suicide, so it was all for nothing.
She studied the tip of the blade, her dark eyes full of scorn and hatred. So yeah, RJ got what was coming to him.
Where were you on the night of August 10th? Last summer?
Eliza asked.
The Fortune Teller laughed.
I was waiting for him, you know? The night of the Gala?
Goosebumps prickled on Eliza’s arms. Go on.
Who do you think this was for?
she said, fingering the dagger. I’d been watching him. I knew he had a room at the Crow’s Nest he liked to keep secret. Figured he’d show up after the Gala. The Fairmont was only a couple blocks away.
Her shoulders collapsed in resignation. She set the dagger down. But he never showed. Turns out Valerie Valentine did for RJ herself. Who’s laughing now, you arrogant prick?
"So, you didn’t kill him? Eliza deflated, letting out a breath she’d been holding.
Damn. I just lost a bet."
March 10. You’ll be 15 today, Elizabeth. Maybe I should have told you sooner. Maybe I should have tried to track down your mom’s family. She said they disowned her, but maybe they’ve changed. I think she had a sister named Michelle. But you’ve brought me so much joy. Joy I never knew I was missing. I’m sorry if I did the wrong thing, but I’d do it again. I love you.
Nurse Bennett was never the same afterward. Slowly, inexorably, the only mom Eliza had ever known was fading away, a frightened, helpless stranger emerging in her place. She wasn’t the only one. After years of increasing isolation and a shocking birthday surprise, Eliza was a stranger to herself. Or maybe this was growing up. She found new hobbies more befitting of her namesake. She pilfered cash. She learned to drive. She prepared.
It took her nearly a year to find Jenny. She hadn’t even known to look for her. There were a dozen women named Michelle Onishi in the Bay Area, but none with a dead sister named Laura. After many fruitless Google searches and some embarrassing phone calls, Eliza chanced one night upon a user on the r/TroubleNovels subreddit with some very odd and spiteful personal opinions about RJ Valentine’s wife Valerie. Stalking her profile, Eliza discovered that she lived down south in Glendale, CA. A quick search revealed a Michelle Onishi who lived in Glendale and taught at a local high school.
In a rush of adrenaline, she’d spent $60 using a dummy profile to buy Glendale High’s most recent yearbook. When she got it in the mail, she flipped immediately to the teachers’ mugshots and found Michelle Onishi. The Asian woman with the shoulder-length bob certainly could be her aunt. Eliza checked the index and found another page listing for her maybe-aunt. Michelle Onishi was also the Assistant Adviser of the Asian-Pacific Club, and from the club photo, shorter than half her students. Eliza was short too. Her eyes wandered over the picture. She was pondering how to contact this Michelle when suddenly—and quite shockingly—she found her own face staring back at her. A face with short, punky hair and a shady grin, but it was unmistakably her. The name in the caption, first row, third from the left: Jennifer Valentine.
A month later, Nurse Bennett passed. When CPS came to place Eliza with a new family, they found an empty house. Eliza Bennett had ceased to exist. She’d squirreled away $20,000 of Nurse Bennett’s retirement fund and gone off alone to find her twin sister.
Speak of the devil.
Eliza caught a flicker of movement behind the Fortune Teller. She managed to keep her face neutral as her sister Jenny crept into the room and reached for a heavy amethyst crystal sitting atop the armoire.
No,
said the Fortune Teller. I didn’t kill RJ Valentine. But you…
The Fortune Teller’s hand drifted to the dagger again. Oh, I’ve heard about you. Saw your photo in the paper. The ‘pint-sized girl detective’ who can’t keep her nose out of other people’s business. Just like your dad.
She wrapped her wizened fingers around the stiletto blade and raised her fist to strike. Eliza’s foot brushed over the floor switch under the table.
Looks like you picked the wrong mystery to solve this time,
said the Fortune Teller with a loathsome grin.
Eliza pressed down on the floor switch.
The room plunged into darkness just as Jenny swung the big hunk of crystal at the Fortune Teller’s head.
What can I say?
said Eliza as the blow connected with a satisfying crunch. Trouble always finds me.
CHAPTER TWO
Game Face
"I GUESS SHE didn’t see that coming," Jenny snickered, cutting her sister free. Eliza rubbed her wrists for a half-second before turning to check on Drew, their trusty sidekick.
Is he still out?
Jenny whispered in her sister’s ear, appraising Eliza’s darkening black eye. They were identical twins, though this new shiner would make them easy to tell apart. That wouldn’t do at all.
Eliza lifted Drew’s arm and let go. It thumped on the table, completely limp. Good. As far as Drew knew, there was only Jenny, even though half the time they hung out, he was actually hanging with Eliza instead.
Still has a pulse at least,
Eliza said, her tone nonplussed.
I got here as fast as I could!
Jenny said, deciding to leave out that she’d been in the middle of a delirious make-out session with Dinah when she’d gotten the S.O.S. She was up to 1,074 kisses with her girlfriend now, and yes, she was counting them.
Did that include doing a bump of coke?
Eliza asked, pointing to her nose with a judgemental glare.
Jenny wiped under her nose, and white powder came off on her finger.
Relax, it’s just Adderall.
Sure, that makes it better.
It’s my same dose!
Jenny rolled her eyes. I just needed it to act faster. For you. I read about it on one of your websites, you know.
Eliza’s shoulders slumped, and her face softened into a grateful smile. Thank you.
That’s what big sisters are for,
Jenny said with a wink. Her sister still looked a little dazed, so Jenny dug in her bag for some black pills, Trouble’s favorite poison remedy. "Here. Activated charcoal. Like in Trouble on the Orient Express. Should help with whatever she dosed you with."
I’m not sure if this actually works like in the books.
Eliza smirked. How much did you hear?
Enough to know we’re gonna have to start on another clue,
Jenny said. And: I won the bet!
Which meant they’d be keeping their hair short instead of growing it out.
I was right about her wanting RJ dead, at least.
"Dad was right when he made that tarot card a clue, Jenny said.
Still, the thing about the room at the Crow’s Nest is interesting. I wonder if Trouble, Inc. is still paying for it."
Something to check with Mr. Webb on,
Eliza said. She rolled her neck and flexed her hand into a fist. All right, let’s get this over with before we call the cops.
Jenny groaned.
Do we have to?
I don’t think makeup is gonna cover this up,
Eliza said. She touched her eye and winced.
You can just lie low for a while,
Jenny said. I’ll do the statue ceremony thing this weekend.
Can’t. You have a PreCalc final. It’s like 30 percent of your grade.
Her twin was the math genius of the family and had been taking most of Jenny’s PreCalc tests this semester. They had a set rotation for school, trading places every other day, and even though Jenny tried to keep up with her PreCalc work—with Eliza doing her best to tutor Jenny—she didn’t trust herself to pass the final.
Ugh. Fine,
Jenny said. At least this is the last math class we need for college.
Jenny’s new school, Blackbird Springs Academy, was on a block schedule, which meant that in another week, her least favorite subject would never trouble her again.
We still haven’t figured out how we’re both going to get into college,
said Eliza, bringing up a sore subject.
We’re rich now. We’ll figure something out.
When their father, the famous mystery novelist RJ Valentine, died suddenly five months ago, his will left the Trouble publishing fortune to whichever of his seven named heirs solved his murder. Each heir was given a cryptic heirloom clue to follow.
RJ’s wife Valerie Valentine—emphatically not the mother of Trouble and Danger—received a priceless bottle of wine.
Jenny received an old photo of Dad with their mother, Laura Onishi.
Local Sheriff Blake Lockhart got a noose, seemingly in reference to the famous Casey Klein murder case.
Dad gave Yvonne Griffin, editor of the local newspaper, an old book called The Stranger of Sausalito.
A small statue of an onyx blackbird went to their half-brother Jack Valentine.
Shifty Declan Dillion’s clue, a tarot card of Death, proved prophetic when he was murdered himself a few weeks later by Dad’s own killer.
Finally, there was Alicia Aaron, the mercurial one-legged, red-haired wallflower. Jenny couldn’t figure out why Dad had left Alicia a skeleton key, and if Alicia knew, she was keeping it to herself.
Jenny had solved the mystery of Valerie Valentine’s wine bottle clue, but it didn’t lead to RJ’s killer. With Aunt Shelly threatening to move back to Glendale, Jenny had no choice but to frame their hateful step-mother for Dad’s murder, anyway. Now they had possession of the sprawling Valentine mansion and over $230 million in assets. If Elizabeth Danger Valentine’s existence was ever revealed, their frame job on Val would fall apart, so they continued to share Jenny’s identity. But the real killer—who had adopted the identity of The Stranger, the villain from Dad’s Trouble: Girl Detective junior readers book series—was still out there and targeting Jenny next.
Her sister had followed Declan Dillion’s tarot card clue here, and though she’d found another person who wanted their father dead, it seemed the Fortune Teller, too, was another bust. Back to square one, with nothing but black eyes to show for it.
Eliza got herself into a fighter’s stance, showing off her years of self-defense training. Jenny closed her eyes, already dreading the pain.
Aunt Shelly is going to kill me,
she said. Dinah is going to kill me.
Oh, she loves this shit,
said Eliza with a smirk. She’ll be dying to kiss and make it better.
Jenny’s cheeks warmed at the thought. Like you’d know, you’re always avoiding her.
"For obvious reasons, Trouble."
The whole sharing-an-identity thing had gotten a lot trickier when Jenny started dating the head cheerleader, Dinah Black.
You ready?
asked Eliza.
Jenny sighed and pulled the crimson red wig off of Eliza’s head. Eliza rubbed her short black hair as Jenny fitted the wig onto her own pixie-cut locks.
Do your worst,
said Jenny.
Eliza gave her a savage right cross to the face.
As shiners went, Eliza gave her a real beauty. Jenny’s eye was still puffy and purple for the statue ceremony on Friday night, much to Aunt Shelly’s chagrin.
You know, I swore I would never become my mother, and it’s like you’re trying to call my bluff,
said Shelly.
I’m helping you self-actualize,
Jenny said. You should thank me.
Couldn’t you at least try to cover it up with makeup?
Shelly asked, fussing with Jenny’s new wig. She glanced over her shoulder at the row of photographers stationed in the press bullpen to the left of the VIP seats. They’re taking your picture, and you look like a criminal.
You sound like my PR lady, Stacy,
Jenny said. She swatted Shelly’s hand away and repositioned a lock of chestnut hair over her black eye. It had cost an obscene amount of money to get a wig in the exact style and cut of Tori Valentine’s hair, but what was money to a quarter-billionaire when you wanted to stick it to your mean stepsister? Anyway, you haven’t even disowned me yet, so you’re way ahead of Obaasama.
Old anger rippled over her aunt’s face, forcing her to take a calming breath. Your grandmother didn’t disown you. I suppose I should take comfort that you don’t listen to your publicist either. It’s nice to know it’s not personal.
Aww, Shelly.
Jenny rested her head on her aunt’s shoulder. With you, it’s always personal.
Shelly gave her a reassuring squeeze. The only downside to winning Dad’s fortune was all the attention it brought with it. You couldn’t really stay anonymous when you got RJ Valentine’s wife arrested for his murder and inherited all his money and the rights to the Trouble publishing empire.
She blew on her hands and tucked them into the sleeves of her purple Burberry trench coat. It was dusk, and the temperature was 41 degrees and falling, not the best time to be sitting in folding chairs in the Town Square Park. Silver and gold lights twinkled from the gnarled oak tree branches above. Deputies Mack and Calderon patrolled on horseback, keeping the mass of onlookers outside the VIP area from ruining the foliage. It would be charming if this weren’t all Val’s doing.
After Dad died, the Valentine Foundation commissioned a statue of him for the park in Town Square. A place for all Trouble fans who made their pilgrimages to Blackbird Springs to pay their respects. Val hadn’t included Jenny in the planning, so she had no idea what it looked like. Jenny would have the last laugh, though, since Val was stuck on house arrest and couldn’t attend.
Your brother looks nice,
said her aunt.
She nodded to the small stage in front of the old City Hall building where her half-brother Jack was sitting in a chair, legs crossed above the