Read Online Oliver Twisted (An Ivy Meadows Mystery Book 3) by Cindy Brown - Free Book Online Page A

the silk rehearsal. Didn’t really want Timothy to know how nervous I was (since he’d recommended me), so I shook my head and snuck a peek at him as I sipped my cream ale (I was off-duty).
    He noticed my not-so-subtle glance. “Don’t worry about saying anything in front of me. My lips are sealed.” He puckered up and blew me a kiss. “They’re also really soft, thanks to this new lip balm.” He looked at me critically. “You know, Ivy, you could stand a little…”
    “Beauty tips later. Investigation first,” Uncle Bob said.
    “Do you think Harley was poisoned?” I said.
    “Maybe. But there are usually signs.”
    “Maybe there was some drug interaction.” It had happened to a friend of mine recently. “Do you know what Keppra is used for?”
    Uncle Bob shook his head.
    “You can use one of the internet cafes to look it up,” said Timothy. “Wi-Fi is spotty, depending on where we are, but if you—”
    Uncle Bob cut him off. “Don’t think that’s wise. Someone could intercept the information, or even just read over your shoulder. Remember, we don’t know who is involved here.”
    Good thing I used the library last night. “Harley wasn’t investigating too, was she?” I asked, remembering what Ada said about Harley’s “special assignment.”
    “Not in any official capacity.”
    “Anyone else know about us? I think someone is following me.”
    “You sure?” Uncle Bob put down his cigar.
    “No, but it feels like it. And I keep seeing a top hat out of the corner of my eye.”
    “A top hat. Must be a crew member.”
    “Not necessarily,” said Timothy. “A lot of the guests dress up too.”
    “I’ll keep an eye out,” said Uncle Bob.
    “Wish I had my spy sunglasses.”
    “Olive.” Uncle Bob gave me a stern look. “This is not a game. Be careful, all right?”
    I nodded and blew out a stream of smoke.
    Yeah, I was smoking. A pipe, which is what I was told Nancy would smoke. What we actors do for art.
    “You’re not inhaling, right?” Timothy said. “I’d be devastated if I contributed to the ruin of your vocal cords.”
    “You’re safe. I’m not inhaling, and I don’t think I’ll become a lifelong pipe smoker.”
    The tobacco I’d bought smelled pleasantly fruity in the air, but tasted like hot ashes in my mouth.
    Uncle Bob blew a smoke ring. “Did you know that they sold Pickwick cigars when The Pickwick Papers became a hit?” said my trivia-loving uncle. “China tchotchkes too.”
    “Did you know Dickens studied to be an actor?” asked Timothy.
    “I didn’t,” I said.
    “Did you know,” Uncle Bob grinned at Timothy, happy to have a fellow trivia buff, “that when Dickens used to read the murder scene in Oliver Twist —”
    “You mean Nancy’s death?” Timothy asked. “Where Sikes beats her to death?”
    Uncle Bob nodded. “That scene was so shocking that at one of Dickens’s readings, a bunch of ladies,” he made finger quotes, “‘were borne out, stiff and rigid from its effect.’”
    “Never happens to me,” said Timothy.
    “Can we please get back to the dead girl in the closet?” I turned to my uncle. “Do you think the ship’s doctor is covering up what really happened? Maybe he’s in on the whole theft ring.”
    “I had that thought too. I’m looking into it. I’ve also got a list of regular Get Lit! cruisers onboard, people who’ve been on more than one ship. I’m working on meeting them and questioning them, in a friendly way, of course. Find out if they know anything helpful.”
    “Or if they’re a part of the operation,” I said. “Which ships have had thefts?”
    “All of ’em. The Jack London incident was the kicker, but there have been substantial amounts stolen from all the ships. We don’t have a lot to go on. You got anything?”
    “Nothing.” I took a long drink of my ale. “Except a bad wig, a cranky roommate, and maybe Theo Pushwright.”
    “Yeah?”
    I explained my theory about Theo’s book. “I know it’s