Brandy is sinking ball after ball on the pool table, so McKinley has my full attention. He glances around the room and appears to be searching for someone. Then he reaches inside the pocket of his shirt and pulls out a piece of paper. I am too far away to see what is on the paper, so I stand up and nonchalantly move in McKinley’s direction. Not that I’m nosy – I just have a natural curiosity about things.
As I round the corner of the pool table, Brandy is about to sink the eight ball into the side pocket and win the game. I have no doubt that she’ll get the ball in, so I don’t even bother to cheer her on or watch the shot. Besides, I don’t want to call too much attention to myself before I can get a look at McKinley’s paper. I come up right behind him, but he is so tall that I can’t look over his shoulder. My middle name is subtle, so I insinuate myself between McKinley and the dart boards – or on the opposite side from our pool table. Then I act as though I forgot to tell Brandy something and turn quickly around – bumping into McKinley’s arm and causing him to drop the piece of paper.
“Oh, my goodness,” I say with feigned surprise and regret. “I didn’t see you there. Here, let me pick that up for you.” McKinley isn’t just big; he’s also slow, so I grab the paper off the floor before he can even react. But it isn’t just a piece of paper. It’s a photograph of Brandy. Not a very good one either. It is in black and white and it looks like a still from a badly filmed movie. McKinley holds out his hand for me to return the picture. Instead I demand, “Where did you get this picture of Brandy?”
As soon as I say it, I know I shouldn’t have – for a number of reasons. First of all, I have no idea why he has a picture of Brandy. Maybe she gave it to him. I haven’t met every man Brandy knows – although I am fairly certain that Brandy would have mentioned a giant Mel Gibson to me. Second, if Brandy didn’t give it to him, why does he have it? Maybe he’s a hit man and someone has paid him to bring Brandy down. Of course that theory is ridiculous. Anyone acquainted with Brandy would know that she is prone to catastrophes of her own making and one day she will succeed in bringing herself down. No need to waste money on the inevitable. Finally – and possibly worst of all – whatever his intentions, he is now aware that I know Brandy. But as Brandy’s best friend, he will never make me talk.
McKinley stares grimly into my eyes. “Can I have my picture back?” he asks. Then he adds, “Now, where is Brandy Moretti?”
I figure that Brandy is showboating and strutting around over her latest win, so I have to keep McKinley’s attention away from that pool table. Unfortunately, my brain doesn’t transmit this message fast enough, and my traitorous eyes dart in that direction. McKinley isn’t as slow as I’d thought. He turns quickly towards the direction I am looking. But Brandy isn’t there. I glance around the room and Brandy isn’t anywhere. I quickly formulate a plan. I hand McKinley the photo back and say calmly, “Brandy isn’t here. She stayed home tonight because of the impending storm.”
Alas, I forget to let Curt in on the plan. Curt walks up and says, “Where the hell did Brandy go? She owes me a rematch.”
McKinley looks pretty annoyed and he is looking in my direction. I feel a little intimidated, but Wayne saves the day. Apparently, he has been listening to the conversation McKinley and I were having. “Excuse me, Mister. Just exactly what do you want with Brandy? We are her friends, and we don’t know you.”
McKinley still looks perturbed, but he decides to come clean. “My name is Jackson DeVries. I’m a criminal investigations detective with the Harrison County Sheriff’s Department.”
“Harrison County? This is Escambia County,” I tell Mr. DeVries (I am going to miss calling him McKinley).
“Harrison County is in Mississippi, ma’am,” at this point, he flashes his badge. “I’m here to investigate a crime that occurred just outside the Biloxi city limits. I’m trying to locate Ms. Moretti to ask her some questions.”
“Brandy hasn’t been to Biloxi or anywhere else in Mississippi for over two months. And she didn’t commit a crime when she was there.”
“I never said she committed a crime. I just need to talk to her.”
“Well, she’s not here. I don’t have a clue where she is.”
“And you expect me to believe you? Just a few minutes ago you said she was at home. How do I know you are telling the truth now?”
“Look, Detective,” Wayne says. He proceeds to take control of the situation with a commanding voice – a stark change from his usual submissive behavior. “You don’t have to speak to Miss Meyers in that tone. You waltz in here demanding to know where our friend is without even identifying yourself as a law officer until we began questioning you. I’m pretty sure you don’t have any jurisdiction here in Pensacola – so you’re just some man asking questions. Questions we don’t have to answer.”
DeVries is on the verge of losing his cool, but then he suddenly softens a bit. “Okay, we got off on the wrong foot. Let’s start over. Brandy Moretti is not a suspect in any crime. I just think she might be able to help me locate a person of interest in this case.”
“Why would Brandy know anything about some criminal case you have in Mississippi?” Wayne asks.
“It is somewhat related to the vandalism done to her car.”
“But that case was solved,” I say. “That Fisher guy did it. He confessed or something.”
“Yes, Ms. Meyers. I didn’t say I was investigating the vandalism,’ I can tell by his tone that DeVries is getting agitated again. “I said the vandalism was sort of related to this case. You see, Fisher Perry was murdered the day after he vandalized Ms. Moretti’s car. I have a theory that he was murdered by someone seeking revenge for what he did to Ms. Moretti. Someone who thought Perry had meant to harm her instead of her car and who feared he might try to hurt her again.”
I am shocked. “Well, I can tell you that I didn’t have anything to do with it. I think he should have spent some time in jail, but I wouldn’t have killed him.”
DeVries gives a little chortle at my exclamation. “No, Ms. Meyer, you aren’t the person of interest. If you were, I wouldn’t need to find Ms. Moretti now that I’ve found you.”
I am insulted. “So, you don’t think I could have killed this Perry guy? Why not? Do you think I’m too dumb?” Wait a minute. What was I doing? Was I trying to convince him that I really killed that guy?
“Not at all,” DeVries says, “I just think it was perpetrated by a man, not a woman. The method used by the killer indicated someone fairly strong.”
Wayne speaks up, “Alicia, are you really trying to sell yourself as the killer?”
I blush at my stupidity. “Sorry. Brandy just thinks I’m stupid, and I didn’t want Mr. DeVries thinking the same thing. Guess I blew that one…”
“Detective DeVries,” DeVries corrects. “And I don’t think you are stupid, but I also don’t think you are a killer. I just suspect that the murder was perpetrated by a man. But I really need to speak to Brandy Moretti. Can either of you tell me where she is or am I just wasting my time?”
Just then, the DJ calls out Brandy’s name – our song has come up. I’m not about to sing until I know what has happened to Brandy, so I ignore the DJ. I watch to see if Brandy is going to step forward to sing, but after a couple of minutes, the DJ moves on to the next person on the list and Brandy is a no-show.
“I have no idea what happened to Brandy,” I say to the detective.
Wayne shakes his head and says, “She was here one minute and gone the next. Maybe we should see if her car is in the parking lot.”
Since I had ridden with Brandy to Three Sheets, I lead the procession out into the parking lot. Brandy’s car is not where we left it. Furthermore, it isn’t in the parking lot at all. Brandy has really left. And she has left me stranded. This behavior is totally un-Brandy-like, unless, of course, there is a rock star involved.
After a bit of discussion, Detective DeVries finally concedes that I don’t know where Brandy has gone. He then offers to give me a
ride home since I have been marooned. I agree to his offer – he is a cop after all. And a good looking one at that. I tell Wayne that I will be okay, and I make him promise to call me if he or Curt hears from Brandy.
DeVries is driving a dark green 2004 Honda Accord, not the typical police cruiser I am used to seeing. But then again, it may be his personal vehicle. DeVries isn’t much of a talker, so I have to carry most of the conversation. “So why do you think Brandy can help you out? She doesn’t know anyone in Biloxi.”
DeVries only grunts in reply.
“I know Brandy, and I know she doesn’t know a single person in Biloxi – not now that this Fisher guy is dead…”
He startles me with a response, “Are you sure you know her as well as you think?”
“Of course I do. We’ve been best friends for over twenty years.” He wasn’t going to get me doubting my best friend.
He grunts again but says nothing.
“I don’t know anyone that would try to get revenge for what happened to Brandy. I mean, Adam and I were both upset, and we both thought Fisher might have wanted to hurt Brandy…”
“Adam?”
Damn! Why did I go and mention Adam? “He’s…he’s a friend of ours, Brandy’s and mine. But he’s no killer. Don’t even go there…” Now why in the heck did I say that? Now he’s going to start suspecting Adam. Of course, Adam is the only person I could think of that… No, I can’t start thinking that way. Adam is a really great guy. He wouldn’t kill even for Brandy. Especially for Brandy.
“Is that Adam Considine?” DeVries asks. “You knew him all of – what, three days? I guess you know him well enough to know what he would and wouldn’t do.”
“Stop being facetious or sarcastic or whatever you call that thing that you are doing to me! How do you know how well I know Adam? We could have been friends for years…”
“Come on, Ms. Meyers. I’m a detective for goodness sake. I know all about your and Brandy’s trip to Biloxi. Chasing a bus – how sophomoric.”
“For your information, I graduated high school and I’ve even had a little bit of college. You can’t insult me like that.” This guy is really starting to get on my nerves.
“Sophomoric means that you were acting immature,” DeVries chuckles, “If you want, I can use smaller words…”
I liked this jerk better when he was grunting. “I’m not stupid so stop inferring it. You are nothing but a big bully.”
Oddly enough, DeVries apologizes. “I’m sorry, Ms. Meyers. That was really uncalled for. I’m just used to dealing with smart-mouthed idiots and I sometimes forget to turn off my sarcasm when I’m with regular people. I’ll try to conduct myself in a professional manner from here on out.”
I’m not sure how to respond. Part of me thinks he is just setting me up again. “Uh, well, okay. I’ll give you another chance.”
“Thanks. I’d hate to have you thinking of me as a bully. I’m really a nice guy once you get to know me.”
I half expect him to add “…For you that would be like in a couple of minutes” but he doesn’t. I know I haven’t known Adam long, but I still know he isn’t a murderer. I do have another suspect in mind that might throw him off Adam’s and Brandy’s trails. “What about Skylar Sims? He knew Fisher. And Fisher had some bad things to say about Skylar. Maybe they got into a fight and Skylar killed him.”
“Don’t you think I’ve checked out all of Fisher’s connections? Skylar Sims was on his way to California with his brother the day Fisher Perry was killed. Ms. Meyer, I’m not going to give you any further details about this case. You might as well stop talking about it.”
I can tell that the detective means what he says. He has a stern look on his face, and I know he is going back into his grunting phase. I sigh and glare out the window. Then I realize that I haven’t told him where I live. Where, exactly, are we going?
“Detective, where, exactly, are we going? I’ve never given you my address or any directions.”
“I’ve been to your house before. How do you think I knew to look for you at that bar? Your mother told me that you were there with Brandy instead of at home watching the Weather Channel. She was very annoyed that you chose karaoke over getting informed about the storm.”
“What? Why were you at my house? I thought you were looking for Brandy…”
“I went to Brandy’s house first, but no one was home. So, I thought her best friend might know where to find her. I was right – until Brandy duped us all. Before I drop you off, we’re going to stop over at Brandy’s. I can’t have you calling and warning her if she’s gone home.”
“Okay, there went your second chance…”
“So you are going to tell me that if I dropped you off first, you wouldn’t immediately call Brandy and tell her that I was probably on my way to her house?”
“I guess so. But she’s my best friend…”
“So maybe you’ll get to see her again tonight. Won’t that be fun?”
I’m really starting to hate this guy. Why does he have to be so cute?
We drive on in silence. I find my thoughts drifting to Brandy. I hope that she was smart enough to go somewhere other than Terry’s when she left the bar. I know DeVries will probably find her eventually, but I need to talk to her first. We finally pull up in Terry’s yard. Brandy’s car is not in the drive.
“So, looks like Brandy’s not home,” I say cheerfully.
“Stay in the car. I’m going to knock on the door. She could have pulled her car around back.”
I know he is wrong. Brandy would never park out in back of her house – the car would get stuck in the sand if she did. She is probably at her parent’s house. Hopefully, DeVries won’t think of going there this late at night. I watch him knock on the door. The door opens slightly and I hold my breath until I see Terry in the doorway. He is shaking his head, and I know he doesn’t have a clue where Brandy is. Brandy has never been the best about keeping Terry informed on her whereabouts, but now that she is moving out, she hardly talks to him at all.
As a sidebar here, I should explain why Brandy is moving out. Adam told Brandy that even though she and Terry were only friends, people saw their living arrangement as much more. In other words, most folks thought they were lovers. Adam also convinced her that she needed to move out. Was he jealous? I don’t know, but Brandy was swayed by whatever he said. So a few weeks later, she told Terry she had to move. Terry didn’t take the news very well, and he had a few choice words for Brandy. Of course, Brandy probably told him in the worst possible way, and Terry had just signed a new lease. He couldn’t afford to pay the rent alone, so he would have to find a new roommate. Terry and Brandy haven’t really been getting along since then, but she can’t move out until her new apartment becomes available. I thought about moving in with Terry so I could finally say I didn’t live at home, but I realized that I didn’t want anyone thinking I was sleeping with Terry either. I’ll just stay in my little apartment in Mom and Dad’s backyard and be happy to continue not paying rent. Makes you wonder what I was thinking.
DeVries gets back in the car. “She’s not here. Her roommate says he hasn’t seen her since yesterday. I’m not sure I believe him. He’s probably protecting her. Wonder if he knows about Considine…”
I realize that DeVries is talking to himself more than me. His assumption clearly proves that Adam had been right: people – including DeVries – thought Terry was sleeping with Brandy. “He’s telling the truth. He and Brandy don’t get along. He wouldn’t lie for her.”
DeVries doesn’t seem to hear me. He starts the car and we peel out of the drive. We are soon barreling down Highway 98 towards Pensacola. When we reach Fairfield Drive, DeVries turns left, barely braking enough to make the turn safely. “Where do her parents live?” he says suddenly.
“You are taking me home. I’m done for tonight. You can find her parents on your own.”
He slams on brakes just as we come up in front of a doctor’s office. He quickly pulls into
the parking lot and lets the car idle. “I promise to take you home. But can you just tell me where they live? You know I will find out. And you know I’m going to talk to her in the end. I’m not trying to get Brandy into trouble. I just need to ask her about Adam Considine. So unless you know where he is, you need to tell me where Brandy’s parents live.”
So the truth is finally out. DeVries thinks Adam killed Fisher – or that he knows something about Fisher’s death. For one moment, I let myself wonder if Adam could have done it, but then I remember how sweet Adam is and that he is devoted to God. There is no way he would kill Fisher. Still, I know DeVries won’t give up until he finds Brandy. I let out a sigh of defeat and then tell DeVries where Brandy’s parents live. After that, he drives me to my apartment.
As I start to get out, he grabs hold of my wrist – with gentleness that I never imagined coming from a man like him. “Alicia…I mean, Ms. Meyer…Thank you. You have been a big help despite my nasty attitude. I was pretty rough on you earlier, and I guess I used up my last chance…Still, it was very nice meeting you. I wish we could have met under different circumstances.”
He smiles at me and I understand why Mel Gibson has seven children. I am almost won over by his earnestness but not quite. I take the opportunity to throw one last zinger as I pull out of his grasp, “I wish I’d never met you at all, Mister…I mean, Detective DeVries. Good night!” Then I slam the car door and run to my little house. Once inside, I lock the door and collapse on the couch – thankful that I don’t have to spend any more time in his company.
After I hear his car drive away, I grab my phone and dial the Moretti’s number. Vince answers on the third ring, “Hello.”
“Vince, this is Alicia. Is Brandy there?”
“Alicia! It is so good to hear your voice. We haven’t seen you in months! You need to come over and let me cook you some Stromboli. Or is it calzones that you like best?”
For The Least Of These Page 17
