Oliver Twisted (An Ivy Meadows Mystery Book 3) Read Free

salt air. “You okay?”
    I waved at him. He stepped back to give me space, maybe because he saw how I clutched my phone. It felt like a literal lifeline, anchoring me to solid ground. A lifeline I had to leave behind for now. “Take care and tell Cody bye,” I said. “And Matt, thank you.”
    “Anytime. And Ivy…” He paused and took a breath, like what he was going to say next was difficult or important. But he just said, “Call anytime. We’ll miss you.”
    I grabbed my bags. I’d told Uncle Bob I was over my phobia, and so I would be. Or at least I’d act like it. I swallowed and stepped out of the van.
    The sign holder grinned. “Hello, Ivy Meadows.” Though my uncle called me by my real name, Olive Ziegwart, I mostly used my stage name, for what should be obvious reasons. The guy, lanky and beetle-browed with skin the color of Cream of Wheat, held out a hand to help me as I climbed out of the shuttle. Up close, I saw that one of his eyes was light blue and one was half blue, half dark brown. Cool, in a creepy sort of way.
    “I am Val Boyko, here to take you to ship, because I won,” he said in a thickly accented voice—Russian? Polish? “We see your photo and all the men want to greet you and I won. But…” He cocked his head. “You do not look like your headshot.”
    “I know.” I’d had a little hair dye accident. Since the store was out of my usual brand, I’d picked another one. It said “light ash blonde,” but my roots were now bright orange.
    “I like it. You are like sexy Creamsicle.” Val grabbed my suitcase and shepherded me around the hordes of embarking passengers toward an entrance reserved for crew. A big-bellied security man checked our IDs. “Welcome aboard,” he said, popping open my suitcases. He nodded at Val’s cigarette. “Better put that out.”
    “Crew can’t be seen smoking?” I asked as the guard rifled through my unmentionables.
    “Tsk, tsk, tsk,” chided the security guard. “Looks like someone didn’t read her employee handbook.”
    Yeah, probably should have asked Get Lit! for one.
    “Is non-smoking cruise.” Val stubbed out his cigarette and dropped it into a large standing ashtray. “Vaping is permitted on outdoor decks, and cigars and pipes in cigar bar only.”
    “Yeah, thank God for Dickens,” said the security guy. “They wouldn’t even have that bar if passengers hadn’t complained that people smoked in Victorian times.” He shut my suitcases and handed me a crew member badge. “Smooth sailing.”
    “Let us go, Ivy Meadows,” Val said as he hefted my suitcases once more. He led me to the gangplank, where I took a deep breath, focused on the ship in front of me, and walked out over the water.

CHAPTER 3
    Something More than Usual in the Wind

      
    “You are lucky.” Val walked quickly through throngs of crew members, leading me down a passageway and up a staircase. “You room with Harley. She is Madame Defarge.”
    Though the current onboard show was a takeoff on Oliver Twist , Get Lit! ’s brochure mentioned that major characters from Dickens’s other books would be onboard, greeting people and posing for photos, like Snow White at Disneyland.
    “I’m lucky there’s no guillotine on the ship if I’m rooming with her,” I said as we exited onto a deck filled with excited passengers. Val’s heavy brows drew together in confusion. “She’s playing Madame Defarge from A Tale of Two Cities, right?” I spoke loudly to be heard over the din. “The hateful, awful one who likes seeing people’s heads cut off?” I followed Val and my suitcases down a passageway.
    “No need for guillotine when you can throw people in sea.” Val stopped in front of a cabin door, slipped a keycard in the lock slot, and opened the door. Me, I tried to just breathe normally. Val turned and caught sight of my face. “Is joke.” He laughed. “No one falls off ship. If you did, I would save you, my Creamsicle. You are lucky to stay with