Pretty Dead Girls

by Monica Murphy

  “It’s a smart move. Your father is an attorney. He knows what to do.” She glances around my room, her gaze full of worry. “You want me to try to send them away again? Your father is at the office, but I can call him and he’d rush right home. He’ll take care of this if those detectives won’t listen to me.” Mom has always deferred to Dad as the heavy in our house. Those are the roles they like in their parental relationship with us. Mom’s easygoing and Dad’s the strict one.

  “No, if Mr. Grossman is coming over here, I guess I can talk to them and get it over with. At least they’re here at the house, so I don’t have to go to the police station.” I stretch my arms over my head and yawn, trying to fight the nerves that are fizzing in my stomach. “Tell them I’ll be down in a few.”

  I take a quick shower and think over everything that happened last night. I want to be as thorough as possible remembering all the details. I don’t want to forget a thing.

  And I also just want this conversation over and done with.

  By the time I’m walking into the living room, twenty minutes have passed, and Detectives Hughes and Spalding are pacing near the massive window that faces the street. Mr. Grossman is in heavy conversation with my mother in the corner of the room.

  Hughes is the one who notices my entrance first, and his expression is grim when he sees me.

  “Penelope.” He nods once.

  Spalding turns away from the window to face me. “Hello, Miss Malone.”

  “Hello.” I stop in the middle of the living room, unsure of what to do next. “You wanted to talk to me?”

  Spalding waves at a nearby chair. “Please. Sit down.”

  “Penelope.” Mr. Grossman is at my side, guiding me toward the chair. “Consult me before you answer any of their questions, do you understand? Just look my way and I’ll nod or shake my head.”

  I can’t even answer a question without his approval? I guess that’s what I need a lawyer for. “Okay.”

  Mr. Grossman settles into a nearby chair. My mother hovers in the doorway, watching us carefully. When I make eye contact with her, she smiles and fully enters the room, wringing her hands together nervously. “Would you like some coffee, gentlemen?” she asks, like they’re here for a pleasant visit. “Or something else to drink?”

  “Coffee sounds great, Mrs. Malone,” Spalding says.

  “I’m fine,” Hughes grits out as he studies his phone, tapping away at the screen for a few moments before he returns his attention to me. They’re both sitting on the couch across from me. “Let’s talk about last night.”

  I glance over at my lawyer—who nods his approval—before I run through the moment again in the most matter of fact way I can. Mom dashes in and hands Spalding his coffee as I describe Cass and me going up the stairs. She leaves when I get to the gruesome parts, and I suppose I can’t blame her. I’m not enjoying reliving the moment either. But I forge on and tell them how Cass spotted them first and tried to shield me. Hearing Courtney scream and swear she didn’t do it. How the blood was everywhere, all over Courtney, and the horrific slash across Dani’s neck.

  “Was she hurt?” I ask once I’m finished. When they both frown at me, I continue. “Courtney. She had blood all over her. Cass wondered if she was hurt, too.”

  “She wasn’t,” Spalding tells me, his gaze falling from mine as he studies the floor. “It was…Danielle’s blood.”

  “Oh.” I exhale shakily, staring at the coffee table in front of me. I’m trembling, and I take a deep breath, telling myself I shouldn’t cry. My eyes still burn from all the crying last night and into this morning. “There was so much blood. Cass thought for sure some of it was Courtney’s and she’d been hurt by the killer. Is she still in the hospital?”

  I look up to find Hughes slowly shaking his head, not saying a word.

  Weird.

  “What were you doing before you found Courtney and Danielle in the east wing? Run us through those events,” Spalding says.

  Mr. Grossman nods, so I do as Spalding requests.

  “Well, I went to the party with Cass.”

  “But you told your parents differently,” Hughes interjects.

  I stay quiet, unsure if I should admit that or not. Mr. Grossman clears his throat and when we make eye contact, he gives me a subtle nod.

  “I told my mother I was going to the movies with Dani. That mass text the school sent freaked my mom out and she didn’t want me anywhere near Court’s house.”

  “You went anyway,” Hughes says, his tone downright accusatory. “Why?”

  Here’s where the partial truth sounds silly. “I wanted to spend more time with Cass. I-I like him and I’m pretty sure he likes me and that’s why I went.” I hesitate, then decide to go for it. “I wanted to be with him.”

  “Okay. Go on then,” Spalding says. “Tell us what happened next.”

  “I went and picked up Cass at his house, which is in the same neighborhood as Courtney’s, up on Hot Springs Road. He drove my car to her place and we got there around nine thirty, maybe a little later. We ran into Dani right away, and she was with Brogan Pearson. They were both drunk, Dani more than Brogan, and they got us into the house.”

  “Right, because Courtney didn’t want you there,” Hughes says.

  Wow, that was the last thing I expected him to say. He knows everything, doesn’t he?

  “Yes, she disinvited me.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I was against the party from the start. I didn’t want her to do it. I thought it was tacky and wrong to have a party so soon after Gretchen and Lex died, and I told her so. That made Courtney mad.”

  “I’m sure Courtney was angry you were at her house.”

  “I don’t think Court realized it until—until we found her.” I feel shaky. Lightheaded. I don’t like thinking about that moment, when we found Dani and Court together.

  “Let’s switch gears here. Was that normal behavior for Danielle while at a party? Did she get drunk at parties a lot?” Spalding asks.

  I don’t want to make her look bad, but… “Yeah, sometimes. She liked to have fun, be silly and cut loose. She was always fun at a party, you know? Most of the time she worried so much, it was nice to see her so carefree.”

  “So she drank a lot.” Hughes’s voice is flat.

  “No, not really.” I shake my head, frustrated. “It’s not like we partied every weekend.”

  “What about Brogan Pearson? What was her relationship with him?” Hughes asks.

  Oh. Wow. Do they suspect Brogan? There is no way he could’ve killed Dani, let alone Gretchen and Lex. He’s not a criminal mastermind. Not even close. “She’s had a crush on Brogan for years.”

  “And did he reciprocate her feelings?”

  “I thought he did…” My voice drifts, and I think of Courtney and Brogan together last night. I need to tell the cops. They’re going to ask why Cass and I were in the closet and I’m going to have to come up with some sort of excuse. No way can I tell them the truth.

  Oh, we were playing detectives like you guys! On the endless search for clues, you know, since we don’t think you’re all that great at doing your job.

  Yeah, that wouldn’t go over real well.

  But I need to tell the truth. I can’t keep this from them, especially if they talk to Cass and he tells them what really happened. Lying won’t get us anywhere.

  Taking a deep breath, I decide to go for it.

  “Cass and I were in Courtney’s bedroom last night.”

  “Penelope,” Mr. Grossman barks, and I jerk my head up, my gaze meeting his. “We should talk about this first.”

  “I want to tell the truth. I didn’t do anything wrong.” I look at the detectives, and I can tell they’re dying to ask me at least fifty more questions.

  They both frown at me. “Why were you in her room?” Spalding asks.

  “Um, because we wanted to…” I cough discreetly, feeling stupid. “We wanted to find a more private spot.”

 
; Spalding’s eyebrows shoot straight up, and a gasp escapes from Mom. “So you were in search of privacy,” he says.

  “Yes.”

  “Just the two of you.”

  I nod.

  “And what exactly happened when you were in Courtney’s room?”

  “Well, we heard Courtney outside in the hall and so…we hid in her closet.” My cheeks go hot and I duck my head. This is so embarrassing.

  “Was she alone?”

  “No.” I shake my head, and I can practically feel them scooting closer to the edge of the couch cushion as they wait for my answer. “She was with…Brogan Pearson.”

  “Really?” Spalding is scribbling fiercely in his notepad. “So they came into the room, and what happened next?”

  “They, um, talked and made out for a while. And then they had sex.” I keep my head ducked because yeah, this is no fun, talking about your friends having sex last night when they really shouldn’t be together.

  “They had sex,” Hughes repeats. “But weren’t Danielle and Brogan together?”

  “Not officially. I don’t think they’d even really dated,” I say.

  “Huh. So Danielle likes Brogan, but Brogan’s messing around with Courtney. And Courtney and Danielle are good friends.” I lift my head to find Spalding staring right at me. “Sounds a little twisted.”

  “It is. Was,” I correct, my chest going tight. It’s like I can’t even focus on Dani right now, or I’ll start crying. And once that happens, I won’t be able to stop. “There’s a lot of drama in high school.”

  “Indeed.” I can’t tell if Hughes is mocking me or not. “Sounds like these two girls had reason to be jealous of each other.”

  “I guess so,” I say with a shrug. “Though I’m pretty sure Dani was clueless. I don’t think she knew Courtney and Brogan were hooking up.” I don’t mention that I’d known about Court and Brogan because Courtney told me, and I immediately feel guilty.

  “But you knew,” Spalding interjects.

  “Sort of. I only had it confirmed when we were in the closet and Courtney and Brogan were on the bed.” I make a little face.

  “You knew Courtney and Brogan were communicating, though, right? That they were texting and sending each other naked photos?” Hughes asks.

  “I mean, I heard…”

  “It’s a yes or no question, Miss Malone,” Spalding reminds me quietly.

  “Gentlemen, what does Penelope have to do with Brogan and Courtney being together?” Grossman asks.

  “We’re just trying to see what Penelope knows,” Hughes explains. “Currently Courtney and Brogan aren’t talking to the police.”

  “Penelope shouldn’t be either,” Grossman says grumpily.

  “I just want to get it over with,” I tell him before I turn to the detectives. “I knew they were communicating. Flirting with each other. I didn’t know they’d taken it this far.”

  “And what were you and Cass Vincenti doing while Courtney and Brogan were—otherwise involved on the bed?” Hughes asks.

  “We were in the closet.”

  “Spying on them?”

  “No. Not really. I didn’t want to see that, and neither did Cass. I didn’t even want to hear it.” I shake my head. “Cass had ear buds with him. So we shared them and listened to music.”

  “Is that all that happened in the closet?” Hughes asks, his hawk-like gaze right on me.

  I drop my head again, staring down at the plush, cream-colored carpet. “Cass and I…we kissed in the closet.”

  “And that’s it?” Hughes presses.

  “What more do you want me to say?” I look up at both of them, glaring. I don’t like how they’re making me feel guilty. Or maybe those are just my own insecurities popping up. I’m not really sure. “No, we didn’t do it in the closet, if that’s what you’re asking.”

  It goes on like this for another ten minutes before my attorney shuts them down and escorts them out of my house. He tells me I did a good job, but I don’t feel like I did. They informed me they were going to ask to look over my cell phone records, like that’s supposed to scare me, but it doesn’t. I have nothing to hide.

  Mom and I talk to Grossman for a few minutes longer, and Mom even calls Dad and puts him on speaker so he can say a few things, and then the attorney leaves. Within minutes, Peyton’s walking into the house. Her cheeks are flushed from the cool weather and she’s got a dark-purple fleece jacket on, along with black leggings. Her brown hair is pulled back into a high ponytail and she looks refreshed. Carefree. Like she doesn’t have a single trouble in the world.

  I envy her. I want to be her.

  “Hey.” She smiles brightly, though it looks kind of fake. “Want to go to lunch?”

  Please. That’s the last thing I want to do.

  “Not really.” I shake my head, suddenly exhausted. I didn’t realize being questioned by the cops could drain every drop of energy out of you. “I’d rather go back to bed.”

  Mom says nothing. Neither does Peyton.

  They just watch me walk away.

  Chapter

  Twenty-Eight

  It’s Sunday afternoon and I’m still in bed when I get a text from Cass.

  Cass: Are you home?

  I reply quickly, thankful someone actually reached out.

  Me: Yeah. I’ve been in bed pretty much the entire weekend. I don’t think I ever want to get out of my bed again.

  It hit me this morning when I first woke up that Dani was gone, and I couldn’t stop crying. My best friend in the whole world is gone. All my friends are dead—except for the last one, and she’s a suspect in our friends’ deaths. The junior Larks are probably terrified they’re on the list, too, and not a one of them has contacted me since Friday night. Not a one of them has really reached out to me ever. I guess I can’t blame them. I was never that friendly toward them, and they knew it.

  I have no real friends left.

  And then I realized quickly I was being pathetic and I needed to get over myself. At least I’m still alive. Dani, Lex, and Gretchen are dead. Their lives are over. At least I’m still here.

  My phone buzzes with a text from Cass.

  Cass: Not even to see me?

  I smile a little. That was definitely a flirtatious text, and I like it. If Dani were here, I’d ask her what she thought and she’d confirm my suspicions—Cass likes me. I haven’t felt this giddy about a boy since my freshman year.

  My heart aches just thinking about her. The guilt comes, too, that I can be happy and flirty with Cass while Dani is dead and so are Gretchen and Lex. The contradictory emotions are wearing me out.

  Cass sends me another text.

  Cass: Did you talk to the cops yet?

  Me: They questioned me yesterday morning. What about you?

  Cass: I spent three hours this afternoon at the station. I just left.

  Me: Are you serious????

  Cass: Totally. It sucked.

  Me: What did they ask you?

  Cass: All sorts of things, I’ll tell you when I see you.

  Cass: So.

  Cass: Do you mind if I come by?

  My parents might mind. Dad has been super protective the entire weekend. Mom’s been hovering, too, even Peyton. She went back to college earlier this afternoon, having left the house about an hour ago, once we came back from going out to lunch, like she wanted to do yesterday. I got out of bed for that event, but otherwise, I’ve hardly left my room this weekend. It’s become my sanctuary.

  I don’t want to face reality. Real life sucks right now.

  Me: I look awful.

  Cass: I don’t care.

  Me: My parents won’t let me leave the house.

  I don’t know if that’s true, but I bet it is.

  Cass: If they’ll let me stay, I’ll stay. We can talk outside, in the living room, in front of your parents, whatever. I just

  He leaves it at that and so of course I have to ask.

  Me: You just what?

  Cass:
I want to see you.

  I want to see him, too.

  Climbing out of bed, I go in search of my mom, and I find her in the kitchen.

  “Can Cass come over?”

  Mom turns away from the stove, a frown on her face. “Right now?”

  “Yeah, right now.” I nod.

  “You, um…don’t look your best.” She waves a hand at me. Leave it to Mom to be brutally honest.

  I’m wearing holiday themed red-and-white pajama pants and an old black and orange San Francisco Giants hoodie that used to belong to my brother, Peter. He gave it to me when he moved out. I never even took a shower today. So yeah. Me not looking my best is an understatement.

  “So?” I shrug. “He just wants to come over and talk.”

  “I don’t know…”

  “Mom.” I approach her, my expression serious. “Cass and I experienced something awful together. We…bonded after what happened Friday night. I want to see him. He wants to see me. I think he needs to talk and I need to talk to him, too. So please? It’s not like we want to go out or anything like that.”

  She sighs and turns back to the stove, stirring whatever she’s got cooking in a giant pot. “Fine. He can come over. Do you want him to stay for dinner? I’ve made enough.”

  “I’ll see what he wants to do, but yeah. Probably.” I walk up to her and kiss her on the cheek. She rarely wanted Robby over for dinner, and we were together for nine months. Not that I was interested in having him around my parents, either. “Thank you for letting Cass come over.”

  Mom looks at me, and I notice the frown lines in her forehead. Were those there before? Or did I just never notice them? “I understand that you feel close to him, but be careful with this boy, Penelope. We don’t know much about him. And what we do know…”

  “Is not much, I get it. We can talk about him later. Right now, I just need someone I can hang out with. Feel normal with.” I kiss her cheek again and then bound out of the kitchen, in a hurry to put some regular pants on. I quickly text Cass to let him know he can come over, along with my street address, and then I go about fixing myself up.

  By the time he’s knocking on the door, I’m wearing jeans but still in the hoodie, and I tamed my hair so it’s now in a normal ponytail versus a sloppy bun. Plus, I put a little makeup on. Face brightener cream stuff and mascara, plus some tinted lip balm. I want to look nice for Cass. I want to pretend just for a little while that this is a normal day, even though I know it’s not.