Under Cover by Caroline Crane Read Free Book Online Page B

prison.”
    “I am aware of that. You don’t know my
dad’s sense of humor.”
    Neither did I, but I’d been reading his
letters for years. It would be just like him to put it that way,
trying to lighten the mood. I wondered if it helped or only
irritated Hey Buddy. If I were in prison, or facing it, I don’t
think I’d appreciate someone making jokes.
    I tried Google again. Nothing new had
appeared in the last couple of minutes. At least nothing new about
any Mulvaneys or Pennys.
    So I called Ben. It was late enough that I
was sure he must be home. I called him on his BlackBerry so only he
would answer. It rang a few times and then went to voicemail.
    I left a message. “Hi, Ben, it’s me. I really
want to know if you know anything about that high school murder in
Hudson Hills.”
    I explained why I was asking. About Dad’s
reference to prison and his coming all the way from Borneo.
    “I thought Mrs. Mulvaney said Liam was her
son. I tried looking up Liam Penny and Mulvaney but I couldn’t find
anything.”
    I waited for Ben to call me back. He should
have been home by then. Unless he’d gone out with Miss Brown
Shorts.
    Skinny legs. Knobby knees. Actually her legs
weren’t bad. I just wanted to think they were.
    Then I began to feel like an idiot. Why
should I care what my dad was doing in Hudson Hills? He didn’t care
about me. Not even enough to get a computer so we could email.
    It got to be after midnight. If Ben did call,
the phone would wake everybody. I knew he wouldn’t do that, so I
went to bed.
    At 7:30 in the morning, he called.
    “You up?” he asked.
    “I am now. Where were you last night?”
    Stupid me, asking a question like that. Why
couldn’t I stop being jealous?
    He let it go. “Why are you so concerned about
all that?”
    “Ben, he’s my dad. Isn’t that a good
enough reason?”
    “Are you his keeper?”
    “He’s my dad. I haven’t seen him in
what, six years?”
    “So he finally pays a visit, but not to see
you. And that bothers you.”
    Ben had me all figured out. Amazing, for an
Aspie. Or maybe it showed how close we were.
    “Wouldn’t you be curious if it was your dad?
Wouldn’t you want to know who his associates are?”
    I deliberately didn’t say anything about
their relationship to me. With him being a foundling, it might hit
a sensitive spot. He would never know who his actual relatives
were.
    I went on, “He did mention something about
Hey Buddy being in prison. I need to know more about that
murder.”
    “Can’t help you there,” he said. “I don’t
know anything about the murder or about Hudson Hills. A place that
size, it’s bigger than Southbridge. It might have more than one
murder.”
    “I haven’t heard of any others.” Not that I
was watching for them. “I know! Phil Reimer.”
    “Who’s that?”
    “My friend at The Chronicle. Maddie
knows him, too.”
    “Give it a try. And good luck.”
    Maddie didn’t know anything, either. Not
about my dad’s family—why would she?—or about the murder. She
hadn’t been keeping track.
    “Psychopaths,” was all she had to say.
    On Monday I asked if she would go with me to
see Phil Reimer.
    “Oh Cree, I’d love to, but I have this giant
project for Daddy and a paper for French. Anyway, what would Phil
know about your relatives?”
    “I’ve given up on that,” I said. “I want to
know about the murder.”
    That interested her. “Can it wait a few days
till I finish the typing?”
    By then she would have another project. I
said, “My dad’s not going to stay around forever. I need to know if
his being here has anything to do with anything.”
    “Why would it? And what can you do about it,
anyway?”
    She was being so logical, it annoyed me.
“Aren’t you curious?” I said. “Just to find out?”
    “I’m dying to find out. But I promised Daddy
I’d do the typing and I don’t want to let him down.”
    I couldn’t blame her. She had a sweet, cuddly
daddy, not a mystery man like mine. The