2 Sisters Detective Agency(42)

Dr. Perry Tuddy was hiding from the blazing sun under a ball cap wedged onto a tattered blond wig that was tied in a ponytail. I sidled up to him, and he flinched at the sight of me.

“Oh, dear.” He expelled a resigned sigh. “Back to the container, is it?”

“That’s all the fight you put up every time these guys come to abduct you?” I asked.

“Well, I’m not the kind of person who tends to kick and scream.”

“You’re not even going to try to run?”

“How am I going to run without spilling my shake?” He gestured to the counter, three customers ahead of us. I tried to answer but couldn’t begin to approach that kind of logic.

“I’m not here to stuff you into a van,” I said. “I need your help with something else. Grab your shake and one for me, yeah? I’ll meet you by the taco stand.”

Tuddy got the shakes, and the two of us stood in the shade, watching the sea for a while. Jet Ski riders were trailing bright pink flares in promotion of the Miffy’s giveaway, and a small plane was working its way up the coastline dragging a fluttering pink banner with the company’s logo.

“I know this is going to sound crazy,” I told Tuddy, “but I think I’m on the trail of a killer.”





Chapter 53



I told Dr. Perry Tuddy what I knew about Ashton Willisee, describing the chance meeting with the scared, obviously lying teenager in my father’s office in Koreatown and the visit to Stanford-West Academy. I told Tuddy that I thought Ashton was hiding something. The fact that he would lie about his relationship with Derek Benstein had convinced me that the boy was trying to disguise possible knowledge of what had happened to his friend.

“Let me ask you a question,” Tuddy said between sips of his shake. “What has this got to do with you?”

“Nothing,” I admitted. “My only connection is that Ashton came seeking my father’s help and I stuck my nose in. But there’s something in that kid’s face. In his eyes. He’s alone. He might have people around him, sure, but I feel like he’s really alone in this and he needs help.”

“You don’t know the boy. How could you read him like that?” Tuddy asked.

“I guess because I’ve felt it myself.” I shrugged. “When my father left, that’s what it was like. I had my mother, my school friends. I even knew people whose dads had run off under similar circumstances. You know the old cliché. Went out for cigarettes and never came back. But I still felt like I was drowning, and there were a bunch of people on the shore who couldn’t rescue me.”

Tuddy and I watched the water. I used my long spoon to scoop chocolate chunks from the bottom of my shake.

“Okay.” I sighed. “Maybe there’s more to it. My little sister knows Ashton from school. I just met this girl, and we’re not the best of friends yet. So maybe getting involved in this investigation, helping her friend, is something we can do together. Like when you want two kids to get along so you give them a mutual goal?”

“My grandmother used to say, if you want two cats to get along, put them in a sack and tie it up. Leave them there for a couple of hours.” Tuddy looked at the water. “When you open the bag, one of them will be dead or they’ll both be friends.”

“That’s real interesting but not very helpful right now.”

“Okay, so how can I help, then?” he asked. “I mean, why chase me down, of all people?”

I laughed, a little embarrassed. “Look, it’s hard to explain, but…I think I saw your freak flag.”

“My freak flag?”

“Yeah,” I said. I showed him my tattooed arms, gestured to my pink hair. “I mean, look at me. You can spot me a mile away. I fly my freak flag proudly. But you—you’re more subtle. You keep letting the cartel lock you up like an animal. And I think that’s because a part of you enjoys it, and that’s real freaky, man.”

He too toyed with the chocolate in the bottom of his cup.

“I’m addicted,” he confessed.

“Addicted to getting abducted?”

“Not to the abduction itself,” he said. “That’s always traumatic. Always terrifying. It’s the incarceration that my brain feeds on.”

“Who the hell enjoys being locked up?” I asked.

“Me,” he answered. “Have you ever heard of dopamine fasting?”

“No,” I said.

“Dopamine is an organic chemical produced by your body.” He turned toward me, gesturing with his straw. “It’s a part of the catecholamine and phenethylamine families. It acts as a neurotransmitter so that—”

“You’re losing me, Tuddy.”

“It’s your happy chemical,” he said. “Your brain’s happy juice. It’s essential in helping you enjoy things. The taste of chocolate. The smell of sea air. Light and sound and eye contact. When you’re locked in a dark room for a whole day, with absolutely no stimulus to release your dopamine, your brain stores it up.”

“Okay,” I said.

“When I spend a month alone in a shipping container, with no smells or sounds or human interaction reaching me, going through repetitive movements like making meth, it’s like I shut down. I store up the dopamine in my brain. Then when I’m finally released, it’s like I’m walking on sunshine. Literally walking on sunshine.”