Malibu Mayhem Trilogy 02: Mystery At Malachite Mansion (13 page)

“Not even Inge?” I asked, inching forward.

“Especially not Inge,” Stacey snapped. “I made sure of that.”

“Go on,” I said, trying to keep her calm. “How did you pull it off?”

“Roland and I were going to set off the explosion together,” she explained. “My phone was programmed to blow up the yacht when the time was right.”

“Your phone?” I gulped, glancing down at the phone in my hand.

“Oh, don’t worry, it never worked,” Stacey scoffed. “That’s why I had to swim over to the yacht in that wet suit and set off the timer manually.”

She glanced down at her burnt arm and said, “Unfortunately, I didn’t swim far enough away from the burning yacht.”

“Didn’t you know Roland was on the run?” I asked. “Why would you want to do it alone?”

“Of course I knew Roland was on the run. I was the only person he told,” Stacey said. “But I still wasn’t going to let Leonard tear down my beach house, so I took matters into my own hands.”

From the corner of my eye I could see the sharks darting back and forth under the water. The movement made me sway from side to side, but quickly I recovered my balance.

“I don’t get it,” I said. “If you wanted to destroy the beach, why are you planning this event to
save
it?”

“The money, honey!” Stacey declared. “I may be a Roland devotee, but I’m still one of Hollywood’s most successful event planners. This event promises to make me even bigger—so who cares if Leonard Stamp tears down my house to build a McMansion? I’ll just
buy
it!”

Stacey Manning was definitely a sick puppy, but if I was going to get off that diving board, I would have to keep talking.

“I guess I was wrong,” I said, almost at the end of the diving board. “You really did have the brains to pull it off.”

“Thanks, but my job isn’t finished yet,” Stacey said. I gasped as she hopped back onto the diving board. “There’s just one little annoying matter I have to take care of first.”

She moved slowly forward. I glanced down and saw the sharks circling underneath the diving board. There was only one way out. I’d have to knock Stacey off the board before she got to me.

I gritted my teeth and thrust out my arms, but before I could lunge at her—

“Don’t move!” a deep voice shouted.

Stacey stopped in her tracks. Looking past her, I saw two Malachite Beach police officers, along with Bess and George, filing through the door.

“We saw you on the monitors in Roland’s old office,” George said. “We called the police immediately.”

“Officers Kent and Rizzo came right away,” Bess said with a smile.

“Whoa!” Officer Kent said, glancing into the water. “She sure did need help. There are sharks in this pool!”

Stacey looked almost bored as she hopped off the diving board onto the floor. I climbed off too, hurrying over to Bess and George.

“Is there a problem, officers?” Stacey asked coolly.

“Don’t act coy,” Officer Rizzo said. “And don’t tell me you didn’t know it was illegal to harbor live sharks in your swimming pool.”

“Sharks?” Stacey said, pretending to gasp. “Well, once these girls started snooping, I changed my order from a harmless bottle-nosed dolphin to something, shall I say, a little more threatening.”

While Officer Rizzo read Stacey her rights and snapped the cuffs on, I handed Officer Kent her phone.

“You might want to check this out, Officer,” I said. “Stacey admitted to the yacht explosion and polluting the—”

“Blah, blah, blah,” Stacey interrupted. “I’ll be
happy to tell you everything, officers. And if there are cameras outside …”

While Officer Rizzo radioed the Malachite Beach stationhouse, Officer Kent led Stacey up the stairs. I was happy to see her go but had one last question….

“Wait, Stacey,” I called out. “If Roland wasn’t on the yacht and he never killed himself, where is he?”

Stacey smiled broadly over her shoulder. “Roland never told me where he was going. I wouldn’t worry if I were you. Knowing Roland—or Marty—he’ll resurface somewhere, someday. You can be sure of that.”

“All right, let’s go,” Officer Kent said.

I hugged my friends for coming to the rescue.

“Thanks, you guys,” I said. “Swimming with sharks was definitely not on my vacation itinerary.”

“Hey, what are friends for?” Bess said with a grin.

“I guess Stacey
did
blow up Roland’s yacht,” George said, shaking her head. “I still can’t believe it.”

“Believe it,” I said. “Not only did she blow up the yacht, she’s proud of it.”

“To think she was raising money for a disaster she caused herself.” Bess sighed. “Well, there goes that great party.”

I planted my hands on my hips. “Hey, wait a minute, you guys,” I said. “Why
can’t
we still have a party to save Malachite Beach?”

“Nancy,” George said. “Without an event planner—even
a maniacal one—how would we pull a party of this size off? There’s the food, the entertainment, transportation, RSVPs—”

“We can’t take care of all that on our own,” Bess cut in.

“Who says we have to? I happen to know a super event planner in River Heights who probably would love a trip to sunny Malachite Beach,” I said.

George’s eyes lit up. “You mean my mom? Cool.”

“And,” I continued, “we know a twelve-year-old live wire named Alice Bothwell who I’m sure would love to help out.”

“
And
a cute singer who’d love to perform at the party,” Bess added.

“Austin Gruber!” George and I chorused.

The three of us exchanged our famous high five.

“Then after the party it’s back to River Heights,” Bess said with another sigh. “Even if it does mean cutting our vacation a few days short.”

“Fine with me,” George said. “After what we’ve been through, it’ll be great to get back to normal.”

Normal?

I knew I’d be ready to go home after the party too, but something inside me said things wouldn’t be quite that normal—at least not right away.

“You heard what Stacey told us,” I said. “Marty Malone—or Roland—is out there somewhere, and as long as he is, this mystery is
far
from over.”