by Maria Quick
‘Jessica Lee. The other woman who was strangled. I know you pegged Terry for it, but it still could’ve been David.’
‘Oh, of course. Yeah, I might have something,’ I told a severely unimpressed Rathers.
You know, maybe I oughta start vamping a little. Wave my arms about, put incense sticks everywhere, and speak in husky tones about “messages from the other side.” Might actually give me more legitimacy.
‘Jessica Lee,’ I translated from the dead.
‘I don’t know who that is,’ Rathers said, growing irritated.
‘She was murdered five years ago. Strangled in a library she worked at. It could be connected.’
Or, it could not be. Who’s to say, really?
‘Is Izzy telling you all this?’
‘No, that’s not Izzy. That’s somebody else. And kind of, but only because I forgot. I actually looked at this myself. Although, I’m pretty sure it was her colleague. He seemed like a shady guy.’
He glared at me. Whoops, back it up.
‘What did you do?’
‘Nothing! I was basing that on his photo in the news article. He looked weird,’ I said, shuddering for effect.
‘If I find out that you have interfered in another investigation, I will arrest you. I don’t care what your dad or lawyer tries to do. I don’t care what my boss says. I don’t care if I lose my job over this. Do not interfere.’
‘Then, what’s this?’ I countered.
He set his jaw, grinding his pearly whites to nubs. He put his notebook and pen neatly away and stood up.
‘You could’ve been an informant, you know. You could’ve been useful to our investigations. Instead, you’re... this.’
‘Already told you, Chief. My powers don’t work that way.’
He shook his head rigorously, urging his intelligence and common sense to come back.
‘I’ll be in touch,’ he said, taking his leave.
Great. Cannot wait.
17
My mom, my dad, Tommy, Jessica, Leesha, Izzy, Rathers, Theo. Agh, make it stop. I couldn’t concentrate on all of them at the same time. I was gonna blow. And with the meds - which my dad had forced me to take on Facetime – I didn’t know how they were going to affect me over the next couple days, either. Nausea was one thing, but what else would I feel? Nah, I had to downsize.
Sorry, Mom. You were not important right now.
Tommy? Same to you, old friend.
Dad? You were always hovering in the back of my mind anyway, so you were relegated down to background noise.
After that, I managed to feel a little less stressed. Theo was still snoring, and after a big scolding from George, I’d taken the beer out of his hand. That was Theo dealt with for the time being.
Back to the matter at hand.
Another quick Googling suggested that Leesha’s case was still stagnated. I checked her mostly-unused Facebook for a stalking session, but it was full of useless sentiments and condolences. I did notice that there weren’t any from Andy, though. Not that I knew who Andy was anyway, but I didn’t see anyone even close to that name. By the looks of things, her mom had taken over the page to post funeral notices and the like, so, maybe Andy was put off. I don’t know. There was an event posted for a vigil on Thursday. Before you start, no, I would not go there. I do have my limits. Honestly, I do. The majority of Ohioans on Leesha’s page had accepted, all but one who I’d expected to go.
Zainab, her best friend from group therapy.
Zany to her friends; so Zainab to me, she was older than us. I’d say early to mid-twenties. I think she’d had some stealing issues or something. I know she briefly went to juvie. She and Leesha had hit it off for whatever reason and were bosom buddies. They met up practically every weekend. I know that, because they’d always talk about it and never invite me. And yet, I saw no condolences on Leesha’s page from her.
Suspicious.
I clicked onto her own page, and saw a few recent statuses saying crap like “beware the fox in the henhouse” and “wolf in sheep’s clothing” and other stuff that made her sound uber cool. I was kinda hoping it was connected to Leesha’s death, because this was starting to get interesting.
‘Who’s she?’ George asked.
‘Friend from group therapy. Leesha’s friend, not mine. They were besties. There’s a vigil for Leesha this Thursday but she’s not going.’
‘So? Maybe she’s working or something?’
‘Maybe, but I think she might know something.’
He peered at her statuses and frowned, not buying it.
‘I know a million girls who posted stuff like that. And they never said what it was about. It was probably nothing, but hey, it gave them likes.’
Hey, I knew that, too. I wasn’t a total idiot. But there’d been something not quite right about this whole thing from the beginning. Leesha had basically vetoed all information about her murder. I’ve never had a lucy do that before.
‘Best friends tell each other everything, right?’
George gave me such a pitying look that I felt all of two inches tall.
‘That wasn’t an actual question,’ I lied, ‘I was thinking out loud.’
The pity grew. Shake it off, Mendes.
‘Hear me out. Looking at this page, there’s no sole friend that stands out as a best friend. It’s only Zainab. And she hasn’t written a single thing on here. She must know something.’
‘About who or what? Because we know who killed Leesha.’
Yeah, we did. It was literally the only thing I knew about her murder, and the only thing she’d actually told me.
So, what was that mantra I swore by? An apple a day keeps the doctor away? A watched pot never boils?
Lucies lie.
Ah, that one.
‘What if she lied?’ I asked, hushing my tone on the off-chance that she’d come by at an awkward time.
‘About David killing her? Why?’
‘To protect whoever did kill her. Look, David being the killer never made much sense,’ I explained, as he began to complain. ‘The only person he’d ever killed before all this was his bully. And he even cried over that. Skip forward a few decades and he’s now a prolific serial killer? It just doesn’t fit.’
Why didn’t I see it before? Why did I still insist on automatically taking a lucy’s word as gospel? David didn’t kill her. Even her reason for it sounded iffy, now that I thought about it. She yelled at him in a restaurant and then some days later he killed her? How did he even know who she was or where to find her? How did she even remember this guy’s face?
Again, why did I not even think to question that?
You know, I blamed my mom. Ever since I’d stumbled upon that whole drama, it’s like I couldn’t even think straight anymore. See, if I’d been paying attention from the start, I would’ve questioned Leesha more, instead of blindly accepting her non-answers.
‘Who do you think killed her?’
‘I don’t have anything concrete,’ I hazarded.
‘That’s never stopped you before.’
‘Touché. My guess is it’s her mom. She argued with her just before she died – and we still don’t know why.’
‘You don’t think that’s a lie, too?’
‘No, because if it was, why mention it? She actually went out of her way to make me forget about her, and like a doofus, I did.’
Remember kids, when a ghost asks you to do something, do the opposite.
‘I’m with you so far, except for one thing. The pantyhose.’
‘We don’t know she was strangled with that. We don’t know if she was strangled with anything, come to that.’
‘I didn’t mean they were a weapon,’ he said, shaking his head. ‘I meant Izzy’s were found in the sewers. That wasn’t a lie.’
Son of a gun, those damn things. Okay, maybe David had been there totally innocently. Like Rathers said, he could’ve taken a leak. Okay, semi-innocently. He peed and dropped them. I guess that’s plausibl
e. Or he dropped them after the fact and Izzy found Leesha and conjured up a story afterward. Or, maybe it was total coincidence and the pantyhose in the sewers weren’t actually Izzy’s, and Rathers would come by screaming at me any second.
I was heading to fantasy land now. Maybe a dragon stole them in another dimension and put them there through a magic portal? Alright, all I knew for certain was that Izzy’s pantyhose were found in the sewers, below Leesha’s dead body. I didn’t know how long they’d been there, or how they got there. There was no point speculating, since I pretty quickly turned to dragons as the culprits. That would not help me.
‘There’s probably an explanation for that,’ I said. He gave me a “well, duh” look.
Forgetting that slight inconsistency, I was still going for the mom. She’d spoken to local reporters, and she was organizing a vigil. She’d promoted different church events on Facebook. She seemed to be making a pretty big show out of this.
I get it, your daughter was killed. She ain’t the only one.
Besides, she was supposed to hate drinking and dating, and yet described Leesha as “fun-loving?” Unless that had been said in a real snarky tone, I called bull.
‘I still think it was her mom. She seems to be making a lot of attention for herself, but none for the killer. In none of these posts does she mention him. Her daughter was supposedly murdered, and she doesn’t seem to care who it was.’
‘Maybe she’s just grieving. People deal with it in different ways, Ann.’
‘Maybe you’re right, but I still want to speak to Zainab.’
Just one teensy, tiny hurdle to jump over first.
‘Based on what you’ve told me about your group sessions, why would she even talk to you?’
And, there it was.
Surprise surprise, but we didn’t get along.
I’ll let you recover from that astonishing blow for a minute.
There have been times in the past where I’ve needed the assistance of a living friend of the dead. Never once has that gone well for me. I suspected that this would not be an exception to the rule. Mainly because we knew each other. That was already a bad start. Also, I’d insulted her friend on many occasions. Bad start, getting worse. And the kicker, I want to accuse said friend’s mom of her murder. I was hoping she also suspected her, but like George had pointed out, her statuses could’ve been about anything.
Boy, I was liking this plan more and more.
‘Alright, let’s see where she works,’ I said out loud, switching back to her page.
‘Ann,’ he warned.
‘Bridle and Partners, a law firm downtown. Law firm? She went to juvie. What the hell?’ I frowned, confused. You’d think that she’d have had enough of the legal and justice systems. I guess Stockholm syndrome can happen to the best of us.
‘What are you even going to say to her?’
‘Other than the obvious? Hell if I know,’ I shrugged.
‘And what if-’
‘George!’ I interrupted, forcing down a sudden influx of nausea and an incoming migraine. I still hoped the two would never meet. ‘You don’t need to tell me this is a bad idea, because I already know that. But the fact is, Leesha is lying. Right now, Zainab’s my best bet. So, I’m going to go this Bridle place, annoy the crap out of her and then I’m going to leave, probably with no useful information.’
Because if I tell you that your dead friend wants to talk, you’ll want proof. And how do you get that? By asking something that I would never know. Since Leesha hadn’t told me anything yet, I kinda needed her.
On my side.
Oh, boy.
What to do, what to do. If I could convince Zainab to come back here tonight, then we might have a shot at convincing Leesha to tell the truth about her death. Of course, that would rely on things going my way for once, but what other options did I have?
Well, I could-
Nope, no other options.
Bridle and Partners, here I come.
18
Bridle and Partners was sandwiched between a doughnut store and a pizza place. George caught me looking longingly at both and was sympathetic.
‘No. You ate popcorn and an entire candy store for breakfast. Give your poor stomach a rest.’
Yeah, that’s why I was looking at the pizzas, for vegetables. On the cheeseburger pizza, that is. Screw it, I was so ordering it afterward.
‘What’s the plan?’ he asked, diverting my attention briefly.
‘I’m gonna walk in there, hope she recognizes me and runs out screaming. Then, I’ll follow.’
‘Why did I ask?’ he moaned, massaging his temples.
I’d already let him in on the actual plan. He hadn’t been too enthusiastic about that, either.
‘Well, I’m already here and it’d be a waste of gas if I left.’
‘No, it wouldn’t, because you’re going to buy doughnuts.’
‘Pizza, actually. Come on, Negative Nelly,’ I urged him.
He followed me as I headed inside. I don’t know anything about law firms, so it could’ve been big or small. There were four or five people milling about a wide open office, with a couple doors leading off to other rooms. I walked up to the first desk I came to. I did not see Zainab.
‘Can I help you?’ asked the occupant.
‘Is Zainab here? I need to speak with her.’
‘Sure. You a friend of hers?’ he asked.
‘Yeah, Brianna.’
Now, why’d I go say a foolish thing like that?
‘Zany!’ he yelled out, turning toward the back of the room. ‘Your friend Brianna’s here!’
If he was just going to shout, I could’ve done that myself.
‘Thanks,’ I told him. Felt like giving him a pat on the head, too.
Zainab shuffled through one of the doors, looking like she’d seen a ghost. Hey, that was my job. Once her eyes locked onto mine, her shock turned to a scowl.
‘What are you doing here?’ she asked relatively quietly.
‘Well, it’s about-’
‘Smoke break,’ she suddenly yelled out, running for the door. I’m guessing she realized I had nothing to lose and would immediately start yammering about ghosts.
‘Hey, your plan’s working,’ George encouraged me as I followed her outside.
I found her leaning against the wall, shaking a little. I saw so much pain and anguish in her little face that a better person would just leave her be. Luckily, I’m the worst of the worst.
‘If this is about her, I’m begging you, don’t do this,’ she whispered, closing her eyes.
‘It is, and I’m sorry, but I need your help. I’m not doing this for fun. I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t need you,’ I assured her.
‘Is she here now?’ she asked.
‘No, she’s meeting me later at my house.’
She turned to me, disdain in her eyes.
‘Meeting you later?’ she repeated slowly.
‘They come and go. Free spirits,’ I half-joked.
She did not laugh.
‘I need your help,’ I said again.
‘With what?’
‘Long story short, she said some guy killed her but I’m pretty sure she lied and it was actually her mom. I’m hoping we can stage an intervention and get her to tell the truth.’
She blinked at me a few times and gaped.
‘What?’
‘Short story long, forty years ago-’
‘Shut up,’ she blurted out, closing her eyes again. Maybe she was praying. I tried another tack.
‘Forget all talk of... that, for a moment. Listen to what I’m saying. I think it was her mom. You’re not going to her vigil and you didn’t post anything on her page. Why not?’
Tears started rolling down her cheeks. Wow, I really knew how to talk to people.
‘Don’t tell me anything if you don’t want to,’ I said, since it was clear that she probably wasn’t going to. ‘Think about it, alright? If you change your mind, I’ll be home. You
know where I live.’
Feeling a little mean, I walked away from Zainab after bringing up her dead friend so callously and headed for the pizza place.
‘Her mom hated her,’ she called out.
Great. No pizza for me.
I trotted back over as she wiped her eyes, not even smudging her mascara. Ugh, lucky. If that was me, I’d look like a half-dead clown right now.
And that was without makeup.
‘They argued over everything. Her mom was a tiger mom, always pushing her to go to college and study.’
‘She wanted to be a doctor, right?’ I nodded, recalling the local news story. She shook her head vigorously.
‘No, she didn’t. Leesha wanted to be an artist,’ she said, her voice shaking slightly over the name. ‘Not Van Gogh or Michelangelo or anything. She wanted to sketch, and take a chair and table downtown and sell little sketches for a couple dollars apiece. Her real dream was to move to New York and sell to tourists. She wanted her art to go all over the world, but to people who’d appreciate it in that little moment. That’s all she ever wanted.’
You mean, that moody bitch was actually a wannabe hippie?
‘That is not the impression I got from her,’ I euphemized.
‘She only told me once. She broke down one day from all the pressure from school and just vented. She wanted to purposely flunk her exams so her mom would get off her back, but I told her that wasn’t the way. I said if the sketch thing didn’t work out, her grades would be a backup. Imagine that,’ she chuckled. ‘Having a college degree as a backup.’
How the other half live. Hey, maybe I should get a degree as a backup. You know, in case the whole sit-around-at-home thing doesn’t work out.
‘What about her dad?’ I asked.
‘Died when she was little,’ Zainab said, risking a wary glance at me. Like I know all the dead people in the world or something. ‘She’s an only child. Before she knew she had ADHD, her mom would deny her everything until she finished homework. She made her do extra work, as well. She’d snap a belt on the table whenever her attention wandered, but never actually hit her. It was awful. Once she was diagnosed, her mom didn’t change. In fact, it made her worse. It was like she was trying to force her not to have it. As if she thought she could grow out of it with enough training.’
