Samantha jumped up, saying nervously, “I have to head home. Clara, thank you for offering to do this, but I’m not sure the squad would be too happy with me asking you to look into it. And if you do pursue it, I think its best that I don’t know about it.”
With a curious look, Clara watched her leave. Then she shrugged and finished the potatoes.
After Clara had finished that task, she called Stacy and invited her over. Of the three girls, Stacy seemed the most confident one. Plus, she didn’t have issues with Clara like Hannah seemed to. Clara was straightening up her room when she heard a giggle from Jasmine’s room. Jasmine hadn’t been downstairs helping earlier, so Clara hadn’t realized her sister was home. She went across the hall and knocked on her door.
When Jasmine opened it, Clara took a step back. Her hair was disheveled, and her makeup messed up. “What?” Jasmine demanded.
“I didn’t even know you were home. Why didn’t you come down to help get dinner ready?” Clara asked.
Jasmine snorted and said, “I wasn’t hungry.”
“That excuse didn’t work for me. Are you drunk?” Clara exclaimed. Clara knew it was an obvious question; she could smell the alcohol but wanted Jasmine to admit it.
“No. What are you talking about? Just leave me alone, OK?” she cried, slamming the door in Clara’s face.
Before Clara could knock again, she heard the doorbell ring. She ran downstairs to answer it. Stacy stood there, hands on her hips, with a huge grin on her face.
“So, what’s going on?” Stacy asked with excitement. Clara grabbed her by the hand and dragged her upstairs to her room. Once the door closed, Clara turned on Stacy.
“Why didn’t anyone tell me I was staying in Betty’s house?” Clara demanded, her arms crossed over her chest.
Stacy looked taken aback. “How did you find out?”
Clara looked hurt. “Samantha told me. She also told me it was Betty who died in that stall. Why didn’t you tell me?” she asked sadly.
Stacy sat on the bed and sighed. “Clara, it was a rough year, OK? Betty died, Hannah’s dad almost lost his job, and Hannah attempted suicide. After Betty’s death, it was all we could do to keep her alive. It was like Betty was her only reason for living.”
Clara sat next to Stacy, picking at her comforter. Her room was small, no bigger than 10 by 8 feet. Clara had painted the walls burgundy and placed bright orange curtains on her window. She had also tacked up posters of her favorite bands. Hanging on her closet across from the bed was her favorite poem by Robert Frost, “The Road Less Traveled.”
“Hannah’s not a lesbian, is she?”Clara asked.
Stacy laughed. “Oh no, she’s not. Betty was like the older sister she never had. With her mother gone, Betty was the only real role model she had. The only person she really looked up to. Losing her totally killed Hannah, “Stacy finished quietly.
“And then her dad lost his job anyway, didn’t he?” Clara whispered.
Stacy shook her head. “Think of it like he was just passed over for the promotion. When you can’t solve a murder in your own town, people start to question your ability. Hannah won’t admit it, but she blames him too. So instead they voted your dad in his place.”
“And the stall? I mean, what evidence is left in there?” Clara asked.
Stacy shrugged. “I don’t know, Clara. All I know is that we all hope it can be solved.”
Clara sat back on the bed and waited for her to continue. When she didn’t, Clara said, “Well, the Marrons left a bunch of stuff up in the attic. Maybe we’ll find a clue about what happened up there.”
Stacy nodded and followed Clara out of her room. Clara could hear Jasmine laughing in her room, but she blocked it out. She’d worry about her younger sister later. Right now, she wanted to get to the bottom of what was going on in this town.
4.
THE ATTIC
A s the girls rummaged through the boxes in the attic, Clara wondered out loud, “Why did they leave all these things here? This is like their whole lives.”
Stacy looked up from where she was going through old clothes. “Betty’s mother was a single mom, and Betty was her only child. She devoted her whole life to Betty. When Betty died, her life fell apart. She was in and out of hospitals for several months; I think she even tried to kill herself. Finally, her sister came and took her to live on the West Coast, as far away from here as possible.”
Clara’s forehead scrunched up in confusion. “And she just left every reminder of her daughter here? I know that she was distraught, but didn’t she want reminders?”
Stacy shook her head. “No. She had plenty of memories of Betty; in fact, that’s what was making her crazy, the memories and reminders. Everywhere she looked, she saw what Betty would never do. Leaving it all behind helped her move on.”
Clara nodded and continued rummaging through her box.
“Clara, look, a diary!” Stacy exclaimed, holding up a worn book with a lock on it. A rusted lock held the diary firmly closed. Clara walked over and took it from Stacy, examining it closely.
“This may name Betty’s killer or someone who might know her killer. The secrets she knew … maybe those got her killed?” Clara asked, looking at Stacy.
Stacy shook her head. “Who knows, Clara? But it can’t hurt to look.” Stacy gave her an encouraging smile. “I’m beginning to believe that you can do anything you set your mind to!”
Clara grinned. “I try. I just want to figure out why she was killed. It’s horrible that it has never been solved.”
Stacy nodded and looked at the diary again. “Any idea how to get it open?”
Clara looked at the lock closely. She wiggled it a bit and sighed, thinking out loud.”Where would someone keep the key to their diary so no one would find it?” She looked to Stacy for answers.
Stacy shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe you should ask Hannah.”
Clara frowned. “Would she even help me? I mean, wouldn’t she feel that we’re infringing on Betty’s privacy or something?”
“Maybe. But I think Hannah wants to know who killed Betty more than anyone else in this town,” Stacy said with confidence.
Clara nodded in understanding.
Just as she turned to leave the attic, her mom called up, “Dinner’s ready.”
Clara looked at Stacy. “You wanna stay for dinner? I’m sure it would be OK.”
Stacy shook her head. “No, it’s OK. I need to get home anyway. I’ll take a rain check, though!”
Clara nodded and watched as Stacy left the attic. She could smell dinner, making her stomach grumble, but the diary kept bugging her. She carried it downstairs, trying to figure out the best time to call Hannah. She glanced at the table and decided it could wait until after dinner. She placed the diary on the counter and sat next to Jasmine.
Jasmine looked at the diary.”What’s that?” she asked. Jasmine looked back at her plate, but she seemed to be fidgeting. Clara looked at her closely, but Jasmine wouldn’t look at her.
“Just an old diary we found in the attic,” Clara said.
Jasmine shrugged as if to say she didn’t care and went back to eating.
Clara exchanged a glance with Rodney and then looked up at her dad. “So, how was work today?” she asked.
As he talked about his day, Clara glanced at Jasmine again. She kept catching her sister looking over at the diary and wondered what that was about. It wasn’t like Jasmine knew what Clara was up to.
After dinner, Clara grabbed the diary and headed up to her room. She called Hannah after closing her door and making sure she couldn’t hear anyone moving about in the house.
Hannah picked up on the third ring. “Hello?”
“Hannah, its Clara. I found something in the attic, and I wanted to show it to you. Can you meet me for coffee in a bit?” Hannah’s breathed heavily into the phone, the only indication the line wasn’t dead.
“Sure. Meet me down at the diner,” Hannah said abruptly. She hung up without a go
odbye and Clara snorted at the phone. Grumbling to herself about ungrateful people, she grabbed a light jacket and headed out, letting her mom know she’d be back soon.
Clara sat at the diner for ten minutes before Hannah showed up. She had been about to leave when Hannah walked through the door. The diner was otherwise empty this late in the evening. Booths filled every inch of the place. The lighting was dim, and the cash register was an older-looking machine that dinged when it opened. Hannah looked gorgeous, of course, with tight-fitting jeans and a tight red V-neck sweater. She sat across from Clara and ordered a regular coffee. Then she eyed Clara warily. “OK, spill. What did you find?”
Clara snorted. “Hello to you too.” At Hannah’s glare, Clara sighed. “Fine, I found this.” She’d decided to leave Stacy out of it; no need to cause hard feelings. Clara set the diary on the table. Hannah’s eyes widened; she reached out and softly touched the diary. Her fingers passed over the cover like she was touching a friend she hadn’t seen in ages. Tears filled her eyes as she looked at it.
“Betty’s diary,” Hannah breathed.”I had completely forgotten about this. She wrote in it almost every day.” Hannah picked it up and looked it over. “It’s still locked.”
Clara nodded. “I thought maybe you’d know where she kept the key. I don’t want to break it open if I don’t have to.”
“Do you think that maybe her killer is in here? That she wrote about them?” Hannah asked, looking at Clara with such hope that Clara didn’t want to dash it.
“That’s why I want to open it. We won’t know until we do. The key?” Clara reminded her.
Hannah nodded. “She taped it to the bottom drawer of her dresser. She always kept one on her, but she kept a spare there just in case she ever lost the other. Her whole life was written in here. Her killer must be in here.” She handed the diary back to Clara.
“You can keep it until I get the key,” Clara said, trying to pass it back to Hannah but Hannah refused to take it.
“No, take it with you. Open it and read it. She wouldn’t mind. She was very open about herself,” Hannah said.
Clara looked at Hannah in a new light – not as a snotty teenager who refused to accept change, but as a grieving sister who had refused to let go. She placed her hand over Hannah’s.
“I can’t make any guarantees, Hannah. All I can say is that I won’t stop until I’ve exhausted every avenue available, OK?” Clara said.
Hannah looked at Clara with a kind glance. “I don’t like you very much, just so you know. You live in her house, the place where I grew up with her. She may have been four years older than me, but she was like the sister I never had. She looked out for me. And the one thing that she has ever needed me to do … I haven’t been able to do it. But if you think you might be able to figure out what the cops couldn’t, go right ahead. It won’t hurt to try.”
Clara tried to smile. “I had a feeling you didn’t like me. But Hannah, I didn’t do anything to deserve the dislike. I’m sorry my dad got that job and that I live in her house. You can’t hold a grudge against someone you don’t know. Let’s start out fresh, with no preconceived notions, OK? I’ll try to see if I can figure out what happened to Betty, and you’ll try not to hate me so much. Deal?” she implored.
Hannah nodded and stood. With one last longing look at the diary, she walked out. Clara sighed and sat back. That had been so intense; she didn’t realize she had been clenching her teeth and shoulders until she finally relaxed. She stood and headed out, looking forward to getting her hands on that key.
Back home in her room, Clara pulled the bottom drawer out of her dresser. She flipped it over, ignoring all the clothes that fell out, and stared at the bottom. Taped to it was a small, silver key. Thank goodness she’d chosen this room when they had moved in, and not Jasmine’s. And thank goodness she’d seen the dresser and decided to keep it. Clara pulled off the key and picked up the diary. She unlocked it with a grin and placed the key in her pocket. Then she sat on her bed and began reading the first page.
Clara wasn’t sure what she’d find, and she was blown away to realize that Betty had been a lot like her. She’d loved to write what she was thinking and feeling and about the people in her life – especially about Hannah. Even in writing, Betty had a special place for Hannah, always playing the role of protective older sister. Some of the stories made Clara laugh.
As she adjusted the book, something fell out of the pages. She picked it up and saw a picture from what looked to be a prom. Betty was gorgeous, with jet-black hair piled on her head and green eyes sparkling with happiness. She wore in red, of course, as it was a color that accented everything about her, from her high cheekbones to her oval face to her pouty lips. A boy stood in the picture with her, and he looked very familiar, but Clara couldn’t place him. She put the picture in her jewelry box, intending to ask Hannah about it the next day at school. She yawned and lay on the bed, still in her clothes, reading the diary. She fell asleep that night reading about another girl’s life.
5.
BETTY’S ENEMIES
C lara awoke the next morning in a daze. She was still in the clothes she had worn the previous day, and her face was pressed against the pages of the diary. She looked down at it and sighed. Depressed that she had to leave it, she closed the book and placed it on her nightstand. Then she went to the bathroom to clean up, listening for sounds of her sister. She could hear Jasmine moving around in her bedroom and Clara knocked on the door. “Hey, Jas, want a ride to school?” she called out. Absolute silence greeted her. Clara shrugged and went into the bathroom to get ready for school.
By the time she walked out, Jasmine was already gone. Clara went downstairs and found her mother in the kitchen, cooking.
“Did Jasmine already head out?”Clara asked.
Mrs. Young looked at her older daughter with knowing eyes. Clara’s dark brown hair was piled loosely on her head. She had quickly outlined her green eyes with black eyeliner and apparently had pinched her cheeks. She still looked tired and nothing could hide the bags under her eyes. But that wasn’t all Mrs. Young saw. She saw the hope in Clara’s eyes, along with the look that said she already knew the answer but had to ask anyway. Something was going on with her daughters, but it wasn’t for her to work out for them.
“Some friends picked her up. She’s really fitting in here,” Mrs. Young said.
Clara nodded and grabbed some toast as she headed out the door. Mrs. Young shook her head and started putting the dishes in the dishwasher.
Clara got to school and quickly headed to her first class. Hannah was in that class and smiled at Clara when she came in, which was a nice change. She remembered the photo that she had found in the diary and kicked herself for leaving it at home. Clara decided to ask Hannah about prom during lunchtime. Glancing at the clock, she realized she’d have to wait a while until then.
When lunch finally rolled around, Clara could barely contain herself. She sat at a table with Stacy, Tracy, and Hannah, grinning like a goon. Stacy looked at Clara, confused. “Spill the beans. What is it that you’re grinning about?” she demanded.
Clara laughed. “I have a question, actually. Prom … Betty went, right?” All three girls nodded. “Whom did she go with?”
Hannah hesitated then said, “Alex.”
Clara looked at all three girls. “So, Alex was dating Betty, Betty dies in the girl’s bathroom at school, and Natalie gets Alex. Am I correct on the order of events?”
Hannah nodded.”Alex turned her down for months after Betty’s death. But I guess he just couldn’t hold out forever and that one night was all she needed to get pregnant,” Hannah said bitterly.
“Hannah, is there something you aren’t telling me; something that I’ll read in the diary?” Clara asked, touching her hand.
Hannah looked down at Clara’s hand over hers. “Betty and Alex were planning to go to college together. They were sleeping together, but she was on birth control. They wanted to go to college and then get ma
rried and start a family.”
Clara nodded.
“Clara, what are you thinking?” Stacy asked.
Clara scrunched up her nose.”I’m not sure yet. Something just doesn’t feel right to me. I’m not sure what it is yet. How long did they date?” she asked.
“Just that year; in fact, only for the six months before prom,” Hannah said.
The bell rang, signaling the end of lunch. The girls agreed to meet up after school for ice cream. Clara looked up in time to see her sister disappear around the corner. Clara shrugged off the sinking feeling and went to her next class.
After school, at the ice cream parlor, Clara asked more questions. “Was Betty fighting with anyone before she died?”
“Natalie, of course. Natalie wanted the squad to do things her way. But Betty wouldn’t back down. They were so good because of Betty,” Hannah said, sounding like she couldn’t stand Natalie.
Clara looked around the parlor. The interior contained white walls, white benches, and white floor tiles. Stenciled pictures of ice cream appeared on every one of the large windows. The alabaster white counter held ice cream figurines. The assortment of ice cream was amazing for such a small town.
“What about anyone who wasn’t Natalie?” Clara asked.
Stacy scratched her chin. “Hannah, didn’t Betty get into it with Andrew, too?”
Hannah nodded.”Yeah, he was mad about something stupid; something that had to do with school. Like he thought he’d go to college with Alex, being so much younger than Alex was.” Hannah snorted derisively.
Clara leaned in closer. “Did he think that Betty was gonna take Alex away from him?” She held her breath waiting for the answer.
Hannah squinted, trying to think. “It could be. I don’t really remember; Betty never wanted to talk bad about Andrew.”
Clara caught that thread and ran with it.”So, she didn’t like Andrew?”
Stacy nodded. “She never said it out loud, but she didn’t like him hanging around all the time, always wanted to go out and not stay at the house.”
The Murder in Stall 4 Page 4
