Dogboy: Danger on Liberty Pier: Dogboy Adventures, #2

By Bill Meeks

Sometimes the murder isn't the mystery.

Dogboy, Colta City's youthful guardian, faces a twisted mystery when local businessman Dexter Stonehouse is murdered. The plot thickens as Bronson's investigation leads him to a shocking revelation: an old family friend may be entangled in this web of deceit and illusion. As secrets unravel, Bronson must confront the painful truths of his past and decide how much he's willing to risk to uncover the real story behind the Stonehouse's death. As the shadows of deceit and betrayal grow, Bronson Black must navigate a treacherous path that tests his heroism and heart. Amidst the turmoil, Dogboy's trusted friend Cindy McNeil's secret mission against City Hall intertwines their destinies, challenging Dogboy's beliefs and loyalties. This gripping tale weaves suspense, mystery, and action, demanding to know: How far will Dogboy go for justice?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Bill Meeks
• Release date: Jan 28, 2014
• ISBN: 9781497797062

Book preview

1

Hunted

His hand on his throwing knife, Dogboy hid in the shadows as a police car cruised down the street.

It was twenty minutes past five on a warm Saturday evening. Dogboy was on his way to Liberty Pier to meet Mr. Horum, his boss at The Old Curiosity Shop as well as his current guardian.

A spotlight hit the wall behind him. He ducked down behind a trash can as the light panned across the bricks.

Dogboy didn't move, didn't even breath, as he waited for the car to pass. He saw a sign posted on the wall offering a reward for his capture signed by Mayor Lane. Heck of a way to thank a guy for saving the city, he thought.

The police car continued down the road then crossed the cement bridge connecting the street to the pier then out to the Stratemeyer River.

Dogboy jumped out from behind the trash can—

A police officer stood beside him on the sidewalk. Dogboy froze, hoping if he didn't move the officer wouldn't see him. This is it, he thought. After everything he'd gone through the past few weeks this is how it would end. Arrested, identity exposed, then put in an orphanage to rot.

He held up his hands.

I know you're asking yourself, 'Why is this charming, charismatic kid hiding behind a trashcan with a dog mask on?' Have I got a story for you, he said.

I don't have time to play games, kid. Get outta here.

Dogboy reached behind his back. Out came a silk flower bouquet, which he shoved under the officer's nose.

For the best cop I ever met, he said.

The officer took the bouquet and considered it. Why would a kid...?

We do all sorts of crazy stuff, sir, but you know that. Our cops are the smartest cops in the country. Right, sir? Dogboy said.

Yeah, the officer said as he sniffed the faux bouquet.

Dogboy bowed, turned tail, and ran away from the officer. Pretty lucky, he thought.

Hey! Wait! You're that Dogboy kid, the officer yelled, running after him.

The masked mutt grabbed onto a drainpipe running up a nearby building, climbing until he reached the neon sign that buzzed twenty feet above the ground.

The officer pulled out his weapon and pointed it at the boy. I don't want to shoot you, kid, so you'd better come down here. Mayor Lane said he wants you brought in, but he didn't say you had to be in 'mint' condition.

You'll be lucky to get 'very fine.' I've always been a little dog-eared. Don't feel too bad, though. It's a buyer's market these days anyway.

A bus pulled up to the curb in front of the drugstore, dropping off a few kids around Dogboy's age.

That'll do the trick, he thought. He imagined a white line running over the sidewalk leading to the bus's roof. When the moment felt right he launched himself across the sidewalk, tumbling through the air then landing on the bus.

Give my best to the mayor, he shouted to the officer as the bus rolled away.

Dogboy rode along for several blocks, holding on to a small vent, until he'd put enough distance between himself and the officer. When the bus made its next stop he hopped off, landing on garbage bags stacked by the curb.

This costume is definitely getting washed tonight, he thought.

Dogboy got up, careful not to pierce the bags with his knife then ducked into an alley. There, he noticed some familiar graffiti on the wall: His mask in white spray paint. He'd seen a few like it the past few days.

A siren screamed in the distance.

Dogboy ripped off his mask and cape, stashing them in his backpack, then waited for the police car to pass.

A little while later it was Bronson Black who walked out from the alley where Dogboy had disappeared moments before. Bronson Black looked like any average 13-year-old, a complete and total nobody (as far as the police knew).

There is my Bronson said a voice behind him. Bronson turned around.

A strange man approached, carrying an ice chest and some coiled rope. He dressed like an Omani sultan and walked like he needed practice.

Hey, Mr. Horum, Bronson said, I thought you'd be on the boat already.

First rule of high sea? You leaving land, you bring food. Mr. Horum said. I make us fresh gyros. Freshest lamb in Colta City.

What's a gyro? Bronson asked.

Is lamb. Special sauce. All wrapped up.

Oh, a gyro? Bronson asked. My mom made those one time.

"It pronounced gyro, you see? G-Y is yeh, no jai. Yeer-oh. That what you say."

My mom said it the other way, Bronson said. Where do you get fresh lamb in the middle of a city? I haven't seen any farms around or anything.

Second rule of high sea? Never ask meat questions. Better to not know sometimes, Mr. Horum said.

Come on, everybody. File in like good little lemmings.

A tall man with a head so large his hair could barely contain it held the door to the conference room open as the twenty-or-so people of various ages, sexes, and builds walked through.

A short blond girl lingered in the doorway as the rest took their seats. Her smudged green smock smelled like morning dew with a little fertilizer underneath. She flicked the file folders in her right hand using the long press-on fingernails on her left.

You need something? My time's billed at a premium so start talking or pay up, the man said.

I wanted to thank you for giving me such an opportunity. I've done some performance art but never anything this... ambitious, ya' know? Must've been a real smart guy who came up with this thing. Who did it, ya' think?

Your dermatologist. Who do you think? The guy signing the checks. Trust me, honey, it's best if you don't ask too many questions.

She opened the folder and handed the man some 8×10s showing her in various costumes. Well, if you're a guy who don't like questions here's a stack of answers. Make sure the man in charge sees 'em, would ya', sweetie?

She slid into her seat, glancing around as several men in the room took notice. The man next to her tossed a stick of chewing gum on the table.

You're welcome, he said, popping another stick in his mouth.

I didn't ask ya' for nothing, she said, sliding the gift back over to the giver's side of the table.

Geez, lady, just trying to break the ice. Let's see if I ask you out for dinner now.

Oh, honey, she said, looking at him like a teacher correcting her pupil, I don't care if you give me a whole pack and some mouthwash. Ain't gonna happen. First rule of show business: Don't date the competition.

Alright, folks, I ain't running a speed dating service here. We've got work to do. The man with the thinning hair opened a large box with a few dozen thick plastic bags inside. Each one had a small blue note card with a number stapled to it.

The man tapped the shoulder of a woman sitting next to him. You. Think you can handle passing these out? He pointed at her name tag. See, you're number three. That means you get— He dug through the box and produced a bag with a 3 tag. This one. Simple enough, right? Any dummy could do it.

The woman passed out the bags to the appropriate people until one bag was left.

The man with the thinning hair turned out toward the group.

"Thank you for being good little boys and