by Sandi Scott
“Neither did I. I guess he didn’t stay in as good a shape as we thought.” Georgie watched his expression.
“Hi, Jet,” Aleta called, waving. “Remember me? Aleta Kaye?”
“From high school?” He smirked at the two of them.
“Yeah. We saw each other at Clara Lu’s party the other day?”
“Oh, yeah. That’s why you look so familiar.” Jet’s face relaxed. Georgie thought for a moment he looked like a man afraid he was being served by the county sheriff or summoned to take a paternity test. “What are you doing here?”
“Well,” Aleta cleared her throat, “you remember my sister, Georgie?”
“Hi, Georgie.” He gave a quick wave.
“Top of the morning to you, Jet!” Georgie replied in the worst Irish accent as she peeked into his boat and the open garage.
“Are you Irish?” Jet asked.
“I am, but Aleta isn’t.” Georgie teased.
Jet nodded his head as if that made all the sense in the world then focused back on Aleta. “So, it’s nice to see you again. Real nice.”
“Well, I wish it were under better circumstances,” Aleta said.
“What do you mean?” Jet took a step back. The fear of subpoena or summons came back to his face.
“After what happened to Samantha, I’m just a bundle of nerves. I can’t sleep. I was just wondering if you, or anyone you know, might have heard something from the police that they have a suspect or person of interest or something.” Aleta batted her eyelashes.
“I haven’t heard anything but ...” Jet let his voice trail away.
“But what?”
Jet took a deep breath and looked around to make sure that no one else was around to hear what he had to say. He looked at Georgie, then down the street to the left, then to the right.
“I had sort of an on-again, off-again relationship with Samantha.”
Georgie turned around behind Jet’s back with her eyes nearly popping out of her head.
“You did?” Aleta tried to keep her composure and just let Jet talk. So far, he’d only revealed some juicy gossip, not a motive or a confession.
“It was one of those Friends with Benefits kind of things. I had just gotten divorced and ran into her at an open house for a piece of property I was interested in. I ended up not buying the property but instead bought this house.” He jerked his thumb toward the modest home. “One thing led to another, and, well, you know how it goes!”
Aleta did not know but nodded her head sympathetically anyway.
“You must have parted on good terms if you were at Clara Lu’s event?” Aleta prodded.
“Not really. I didn’t know she was going to be there. I don’t know what I thought. Clara’s invitation said it was a reunion with a little something extra.”
“That was the understatement of the century!” Georgie piped up.
“Right.” Jet didn’t seem all that interested in what Georgie wasn’t saying. He continued, “Had I known Samantha was going to be there, I wouldn’t have gone. We didn’t part on good terms.”
“Why?”
Jet took a deep breath and looked off into space.
“She became obsessed with me.”
Aleta’s eyebrow arched. Samantha, who had obviously done very well for herself, became obsessed with Jet? It seemed a little far-fetched, but then again, some women just didn’t like being told no.
“When I told Samantha I didn’t want to see her anymore, she started showing up here. If I wasn’t here she’d wait. If I was here, she’d sit on the porch until I came out. She’d call and text me a hundred times a day. Finally, I had to give her an ultimatum: Either leave me alone, or I was going to the police.”
“Did that end it?” Aleta asked.
“I wish. She said if I went to the police that she’d go to my ex-wife and tell her that we’d been seeing each other since before the divorce. Do you have any idea what that would do to me? I’m already paying alimony that I can barely afford. If a judge believed that crazy woman, and I’m sure they would because they always do, I’d be living in this boat.”
“Yikes, Jet! Have you told the police all this?” Aleta asked.
“No. They haven’t contacted me.” Jet sniffed defiantly. “I don’t go looking for the cops.”
“Well, can you think of anyone who might want Samantha gone?”
“Look, I’m not saying she deserved what she got—"Jet paused for dramatic effect, “but I doubt I’m the only guy she set her sights on. I’m sorry she died but you have to account for your own actions.”
“Don’t you feel bad for her? At one time you liked her enough to date her.”
“Like I said, I had just gotten my divorce finalized. There was nothing but a good time in my future. I told Samantha that when we first got together. I feel bad she’s dead.” Aleta almost gasped as Jet started to snuffle and look like he was going to cry. There were no tears, but he did act genuinely upset. “No one should have to go that way.”
As Aleta patted Jet on the shoulder trying to comfort him, Georgie swooped to her rescue just in the nick of time.
“Aleta, I’m so sorry. We need to get going.”
“You’re right, Georgie.” Aleta pretended to look at her watch that wasn’t even on her wrist. Jet didn’t notice. “I’m so sorry, Jet, but we have to go.”
He blinked back any crocodile tears he might have been able to muster and smiled.
“Are you sure? Maybe your sister could go, and you and I can go inside and have a cup of coffee and talk about old times.”
“Like old times in high school?”
“Whatever,” Jet replied. Aleta stood there and shook her head. Obviously, Jet was painfully lonely after his divorce. How sad! Perhaps, the whole idea that Samantha was obsessed with him was a ruse, and the roles were really reversed. That would explain why he would kill Samantha. It was one of the oldest motives in the book—lust.
“I’m sorry, Jet. Maybe next time.” Aleta quickly slipped her arm through Georgie’s, and they walked down the driveway to the street where the car was parked.
“Aleta? Can I call you some time?” He shouted down the driveway.
“How about I call you?” Aleta replied as she elbowed her sister who was about to bust a seam holding in her laughter.
He nodded and waved, oblivious that he hadn’t given Aleta his number and would be waiting for some time if he decided to wait on her to call.
“I never would have believed it if I hadn’t seen it with my own eyes.” Georgie chuckled as they pulled away.
“What’s that?”
“That a dumb jock in high school could become even dumber after high school.”
“Is he dumb or just simple?”
“He’s not simple. Simple people are naive. They might be ignorant, but they aren’t stupid. Jet Nordan is stupid. Did you believe those tears?” Georgie clicked her tongue as she sped down the empty street.
“Tears? Don’t you mean the trembling lip and rapid blinking? I didn’t see a single tear.” Aleta tugged at the hem of her blouse. “Friends with Benefits? That’s just plain gross, especially for a man his age.”
“Some of them never grow up.” Georgie tapped the steering wheel as she drove. “He could be guilty. But, I’m not sure if I’m saying that because I think he could have pulled off shooting Samantha or if it is because he just left a really bad taste in my mouth and I want him to be guilty.”
“There were quite a few other people there. Lots of them were from high school. I recognized a number of faces but couldn’t remember their names.”
“Do you have a yearbook? That’s what we need,” Georgie said.
“No. You know me, Georgie, I’m not a packrat. You mean you don’t have one?”
“Nope. I remember thinking I’ll never see any of these people again, God willing. I chucked that tome in the trash, probably a year after I got it.”
They drove silently for a couple of miles, but they were both thinking th
e same thing. Where could they get a copy of their yearbook.
Aleta looked at her watch. “Great, it’s still early. Care to take a stroll down memory lane?”
Georgie nodded, her eyebrows raised high on her forehead.
“Then let’s take a left on Sauk Trail and head over to Blume Hawthorne High School.”
“But it’s Saturday,” Georgie said, her shoulders slumping in disappointment.
“Exactly, Mavey Dilly will be working.”
“What in the world is a Mavey Dilly?”
“That’s the vice principal. She and her husband came to Emily’s office once when I was there. We struck up a conversation and have since gone to lunch quite a few times. I’m positive she’ll let us in.”
“You’re going to lunch without me?” Georgie was inclined to be indignant.
“Georgie, I do have a life.” Aleta responded quickly, “Crazy as it may seem other people like me, too.”
“Yes, but I like you despite knowing all about you. There is a difference.”
“So, every time someone invites me to lunch I should say, ‘Can I bring my twin sister, too?’ How rude!” There was laughter in Aleta’s voice and her eyes.
“It is rude that they don’t offer first. But yes, Aleta, I suppose that will work.”
“Well, you’ll meet Mavey, and if you like her, we can all go to lunch together some time. But I will warn you, she isn’t like us.”
“Who is?” Georgie winked.
Chapter 12
“Before we go knocking on the door, I’m going to call Stan.”
“Really?” Aleta was surprised. Normally Georgie liked to keep her sleuthing to herself until she was absolutely sure she had something to tell Stan. This was a serious break from protocol that gave Aleta hope Georgie was softening. Perhaps a reunion between the two would be coming sooner than Aleta thought. “That’s nice of you,” she said sweetly.
“Don’t get that look on your face. I’m just trying to be nice since he bought those doughnuts and chicken strips from JuJu’s. That’s all.”
“Boy, those were so good.” Aleta lost herself in the memory of the delicious food.
“Right,” Georgie replied. “Oh, darn. I got his voicemail.” Georgie left a quick message that the sisters had visited Jet Nordan and thought he behaved oddly and might be worth another visit. “Get this. We’re at Blume Hawthorne High School. It turns out Aleta never really graduated. She flunked gym!”
“Can you ever just say what you mean and be done with it?” Aleta snapped.
“Talk to you later. Love you.” Georgie hit the End Call button before realizing what she’d said.
Aleta stared.
Georgie’s mouth hung open.
“You just said ...” Aleta looked pointedly at her and raised an eyebrow.
“Be quiet. Old habits die hard. It was just a slip.”
“A Freudian slip.”
“Oh, posh!” Georgie waved her hand and got out of the car. “Are we doing this or what?”
“Of course, we are.” Aleta got out of the car. “I’m not saying anything.”
“I can smell the smoke.” Georgie slung her purse strap over her shoulder. It was obvious that she felt embarrassed. “You’re thinking something.”
“Yes. I’m thinking we’ll need to knock loudly because the vice principal’s office is down the main hallway,” Aleta replied.
Once at the main entrance of the school, Aleta banged on the door. There was absolutely no movement from inside.
“Are you sure she still works here?” Georgie asked.
“Yup. I just had lunch with her about two weeks ago.”
“Where was I?”
“You were painting, and then you had that visit with the rat people.”
“Oh.” Georgie nodded. “Right, the Creeles.”
“What do you think I do when you are working?”
“I don’t know. I just assumed you were at home waiting for me to finish so we could hang out together.”
Aleta giggled.
“What’s so funny about that?” Georgie asked.
“Nothing.” Aleta banged on the door again. By the time they saw a face peeking out of an office at the far end of the hallway, they were howling with laughter.
“Okay, dummy up.” Georgie pointed. “We’ve got a live one.”
Aleta looked and waved happily.
“Is that the Mavey Dilly?” Georgie asked.
“That it is.”
Mavey Dilly was an unusually tall woman who probably weighed ninety pounds soaking wet. Her salt-and-pepper hair was cut in a simple bob, and she wore no makeup, but she had a kind face that reminded Georgie of Gandalf the Grey of Lord of the Rings.
“Aleta, what a nice surprise!” Mavey said through the glass door as she snapped the locks open. “What are you doing here?”
“Hi, Mavey. This is my sister, Georgie.”
“Hello, Georgie. I’ve heard so much about you. Hey, come on in.” Mavey held the door open for both ladies to enter. “What can I do for you?”
“We do have a request, Mavey.” Aleta explained what had happened at The Better You! event. “There were quite a few people who we knew had gone to school with us, but we couldn’t remember their names. We are in search of a yearbook.”
“Of course,” Mavey bubbled, “I believe we have those going back to the McKinley Era. They should all be in the library. The kids have no interest in them, so let’s take a look.”
“Mavey, to show our appreciation for your help maybe you could come by one Saturday before work and join us for some doughnuts and chicken fingers from JuJu’s. We just discovered them. They are delicious,” Georgie offered.
“Well, thank you! Do they have vegan doughnuts?”
Georgie began to cough uncontrollably.
“Oh, my. Are you all right?” Mavey asked. “Here. Take a drink.” She pointed toward a gray and silver water fountain attached to the wall. Georgie helped herself to several gulps as she tried to subdue her fit.
“I’m fine.” Georgie gurgled. “I quit smoking not long ago. Sometimes I just have a flashback. You know, like soldiers when they come home.”
“You’ll be glad you did.” Mavey began to rattle on about the dangers of not just smoking but secondhand and thirdhand smoke. She also suggested holistic options for healing the chakra and the benefits of organic food. Finally, at the door to the library, Mavey withdrew a ring of keys and unlocked the door.
“You’ll find the yearbooks in the southwestern corner.” Mavey pointed. “Take your time and let me know if you need anything. I’m just down the hall.”
Georgie looked at Aleta who was inspecting her nails with a defiant smirk on her face as they both thanked Mavey for her help. Once she was gone, and they were alone in the library, Georgie stared at Aleta.
“Vegan? Really?”
“I know; it’s weird.”
“Weird?” Georgie chuckled. “She doesn’t eat normal food. Have you ever tasted flourless, sugarless, eggless, milkless food? Pick any book on any shelf, tear out any page and eat it. That is a gourmet vegan meal.”
“Just because she doesn’t like the stuff we do doesn’t mean she’s not nice.”
“She seems very nice.” Georgie said. “Lots of crazy people are nice.”
“Crazy people? Are you serious? She’s not mentally challenged because she’s vegan!” Aleta huffed. “And I don’t know how PC it is to say lots of crazy people are nice.”
“PC?” Georgie waved her hand. “I’m too old for that. Look there—yearbooks.”
The ladies found their senior yearbook, pulled it from the shelf, and took a seat at one of the study tables.
“Yikes! This is going to be more painful than I expected,” Georgie muttered.
“Look at the hair. That feathered look is making a comeback.”
“Perish the thought. Any hairstyle that can be found on men and women is probably a hairstyle that should be avoided.”
“Georgi
e, look at you in those hip-huggers and platform shoes!” Aleta pointed to a black and white photo of her sister striking a pose with her hand on her hip and that “you lookin’ at me?” attitude on her face.
“Can you believe we were ever that thin?”
After flipping a few more pages Georgie spotted a snap of Aleta in her cheerleading outfit, smiling.
“Did William ever see these pictures of you?” Georgie asked.
“My cheerleading pictures? Sure. Mom ordered some of those, and they are in a photo album somewhere in my attic.”
“You should get those down and give one to Emily. She’d get a kick out of them! You guys look identical. It’s really amazing.”
“Okay, enough about us. Let’s take a look at our class photo and see who we can see.”
Georgie went to the librarian’s desk and took some paper and a couple of pens in order for them to make a list. The library was divided into sections. The more sophisticated the books became, the more somber the décor became. A dozen black computer screens lined a long table that faced the Kayes. The books were thick, on high bookshelves with colorful spines.
The sisters laughed and gasped over people they’d forgotten, dramas that had unfolded, crushes and clashes with people.
“My gosh, that’s Jenny Kozwalska!”
“I didn’t know her.” Aleta studied her picture. The girl had an oblong face and forced smile—but most of the kids had a forced smile.
“Are you kidding? No one knew her. She was so painfully shy I don’t think she said five words all four years.” Georgie looked at the picture. “I didn’t see her at Clara Lu’s event. But I’d kill to know what she’s doing now.”
“Why?”
“Because.” Georgie pointed to the plain girl’s photo. “Jenny was like a puzzle wrapped in an enigma. No one knew where she lived, what music she liked, her favorite food. I want to know these things.”
“You will find a mystery to solve even if it means butting into someone’s life after several decades have passed.”
“I hope she’s doing well and not on crack or anything.”
“Here’s another one. Who was that? Oh, yeah. Connie Barbantini. I saw her at the event. And I also think I saw this fellow here, Hank Deeds,” Aleta replied as she scribbled their names on the list.
