by Eryn Scott
I raised mine back. “Salud.”
We liked to add culture to our drinking (both alcoholic and non) and were always trying out new forms of “cheers.” I hoped Liv wouldn’t read too much into my use of the Spanish term. I had spent a few hours on a translation site the other night trying to figure out what Alex had called me in front of Katie.
Unfortunately, I couldn’t remember exactly what word he’d used and my guesses hadn’t gotten me too far (either there was something endearing I wasn’t seeing in calling someone a “picnic” or I was going to have to ask the guy for clarification).
After watching Liv walk away, I turned toward the English building and sucked down my coffee, finishing it before I even stepped foot in my first class. As much as the caffeine helped, my brain was defiant and couldn’t seem to focus on Professor Simms, hard as I tried to pay attention.
Ten minutes into class, my eyelids felt like they’d gained the dreaded Freshman Fifteen — each. But if I thought trying to keep my heavy lids peeled was a sign I was tired, which was nothing compared to when my eyes wandered by the door and started seeing visions of Alex standing outside my classroom.
Oh great, now I was having some sort of waking dream. Dream Alex raised his eyebrows over soft, concerned eyes, as if he was asking if I was okay.
This was officially weird. I had recently downed a coffee the size of most movie theater popcorn buckets, so I could very well be seeing things. But Dream Alex seemed incredibly vivid. The gears in my fatigued brain eventually picked up speed, especially when he started to motion for me to join him out in the hall. I blinked, still not completely sure if —
“Ms. Brooks, it appears you have a visitor,” Professor Simms said, her voice cutting coolly across the room. “Would you mind meeting him in the hallway so my class may proceed?”
Okay, so I wasn’t seeing things after all.
Cringing, I slipped from my seat and tiptoed out of class, pulling the door shut behind me as I joined Alex in the hallway.
“What are you doing here?” I asked.
Alex craned his neck forward. “What took you so long? Why were you just sitting there staring at me? I felt like an idiot standing there flailing outside of your class.”
I studied the ceiling. “I — sorta — well, I didn’t get much sleep last night and I thought for a minute I was imagining you standing out here.”
His annoyed expression morphed into that one-sided grin. “You dream of me often, then?”
“Definitely not!” I walked a little ways down the hall and then turned back to him. “I’m tired and my brain couldn’t think of a reason you’d be here, so I thought I was hallucinating.” I accentuated the negative word.
Alex placed a hand over his chest as if my words had buried themselves there. “Ouch, Brooks. I was actually coming to see if you were all right.” His joking smile dropped as he tried to meet my gaze. “I didn’t see my dad until this morning. He told me there’d been a break in at your place.”
“You mean, he knows we know each other? You told him you’re helping me?”
Snorting, Alex said, “Oh, absolutely not. He’d kill me if he knew about that. No, he mentioned it was the apartment of the student who’d found the body, so I came to find you.”
“Oh.” I pressed my lips together.
“Are you? Okay?” Those eyes of his were like dark chocolate. Delicious. Mostly bitter, but just the right amount of sweet.
I nodded.
“What about your roommate and that dog of yours, Ham Sandwich?” he asked, a sly smile pulling across his lips, showing me he was teasing.
“Hamburger.” I laughed. “Yes, she and Liv are fine.”
I wondered for a moment whether or not I should fill him in on all of the stuff Josh had told me about Danny. But then the knowledge that I held information I had yet to divulge to him made me wonder if Alex might be keeping anything from me. I mean, his dad was the lead detective, after all. Maybe I could barter my intel for something he knew.
“I should probably get back,” I said. “But I have some new stuff to share with you. Any chance you want to get together and…” I motioned back and for between us.
Alex raised his eyebrows. Uh oh. Between that look and me saying — oh no…
“Get together?” he asked.
Having been shaking my head preemptively, ever since I’d seen the look cross his face, I continued.
“Not like that. Just — you know — sharing stats, looking at each other’s playbook.”
Dear lord, what was I saying? Alex didn’t seem like much of a sports guy and I knew nothing about any of the different types — as was now blatantly obvious. Hearing my words aloud, I realized my sports metaphors had made things sound even worse. Gah! I couldn’t win.
Maybe if I employed a good ole just-friends-type of gesture…
“What do you say?” I asked, then slow motion punched him in the arm, like pals. Inwardly, I groaned. I’m dying. Dead. Just going to crawl into a hole and never come out.
Alex appeared as confused as I felt. But after a moment, the creases in his brow smoothed out and he said, “How about tonight?”
“Sure…” The word stretched out past what was comfortable, but I couldn’t help it. Tonight? Like where? At the library or for dinner? The distinction between the two was huge. Like James Joyce’s Ulysses huge.
When I finally stopped overanalyzing his words, I remembered going out wasn’t even an option. I couldn’t leave Liv alone, not after last night.
“Actually, could you come to my place?”
The suggestive look on Alex’s face made me want to turn that friendly, fake punch into a real one.
“Oh, get over yourself.” I scoffed. “I don’t want to leave Liv and Hammy alone after… you know.”
At the mention of the break in, Alex sobered and cut the flirty act, nodding in lieu of anymore teasing. “Sounds good. I can be there by seven.”
“Okay.”
Alex turned to leave, calling over his shoulder. “Text me your address so I don’t have to track you down this time, Brooks.”
It took me a few seconds before I could wipe the smile off my face enough to go back into class.
17
I whirled about our apartment that evening like I was Mary Poppins and I’d downed about seven spoonfuls of sugar.
And, okay. I had to admit, that “practically perfect” nanny was kinda right; there was an element of fun in every job to be done, especially with Hammy jumping about my feet and trying to play with me the whole time I cleaned. I couldn’t help but laugh at her antics.
When I finally sat down to do some homework on our spotless couch in our spotless living room, I was starting to see Liv’s point about cleaning more. It felt good. But the satisfied feelings only lasted for a while, because as I sat there, the place felt so much emptier without all of our clutter everywhere. And the emptiness turned into loneliness. Which turned into fear as I remembered the notecard stuck in the open door last night.
Come not within the measure of my wrath.
It’d been a while since I’d read The Two Gentlemen of Verona, but from what I could recall, the play had mostly been about men fighting over women. In fact, I think that’s what Valentino had been warning against when he’d spouted the line about his wrath. Common translation: Stay away from my lady, dude. Or else.
Which was a bit of a head scratcher. I wasn’t anywhere close to being a part of a love triangle — or even a line segment, for that matter. Still, the realization that the quote had probably been taken out of context didn’t diminish the creepiness or threatening nature of the line. I was getting close to the killer and they were getting scared, making mistakes again.
Yet another sliver of evidence to support my theory that Fergie hadn’t done this terrible deed. The woman hated when people misused the written word — don’t get her started on people incorrectly attributing quotes. And if you saw a contextless quote as a fault, which I did, it was also the s
econd mistake the killer had made when quoting Shakespeare.
Dr. Campbell’s murderer was either someone who knew little about Shakespeare or — as I was increasingly fearing was the case — the jerk was intentionally misusing The Bard’s words.
Suddenly, the doorknob jiggled and, for a moment, my heart clenched tight in my chest. I realized, all-too-late, I hadn’t remembered to lock the deadbolt, still not used to the newly-installed safeguard.
Had the murderer come back?
It was probably only Liv, but… there was a lot of extra fiddling happening — as if someone were picking the lock instead of inserting a key. Frozen, I couldn’t seem to make my voice work to call out to whomever was on the other side of that door — not that I really expected anyone to answer to “Hey… Murderer. Is that you?”
As the lock clicked open, Hamburger leapt off the couch like Ariel the fairy in The Tempest, ready to save her potent master, Prospero — or Peppero — from the evil and murderous plans of Caliban the monster. Cute as my fairy protector was with her wagging nubbin of a tail and defensive snorts, I doubted she would be able to do much against this real-life Caliban.
Finally, the door swung toward me. I clutched my notebook in front of my face. Peeking out from behind it… I swallowed my heart back down my throat as Liv strode in and shoved the door shut with her heel. Her eyes landed on me, forehead wrinkling in concern.
“Just me.” She breathed the words softly, dropping her bag in our usual place by the door. “Sorry for all of the noise, I had the wrong key.”
Looked like I wasn’t the only one getting used to the extra lock. Exhaling my fears. I hopped up from the couch and clicked the deadbolt into place. Liv knelt next to Hamburger and scratched her back, inciting a round of satisfied puppy grunts.
Blinking, Liv glanced around the apartment. “Whoa. Did I miss something last night or did the murderer tidy up while he or she was here?”
I crossed my arms over my chest. “I cleaned.”
She leaned back. “You what?”
“Cleaned. And if you ever want it to happen again, you’ll shut down this whole act.” I gestured toward her posture.
She lifted her hands in defense. “Okay, okay.” Liv surveyed as she walked through the living room, nodding and pressing her lips forward. She stopped, squinted, and then disappeared into the bathroom.
When she reappeared, her head was tilted and her eyes sparkled, almost, as much as I knew the tile in the shower did right now. My stomach clenched at her smug, about-to-give-me-a-hard-time expression.
“Ooooooh! Pepper’s having a guy over,” she trilled.
“What? No — I — this isn’t…” I shook my head, fervently, giving myself instant vertigo.
“Peps, the only time I’ve ever seen you clean in three years was when Michael was coming over. And by the sheer impeccability of this particular cleaning job…” Liv craned her neck, double checking the apartment and then folding her arms over her chest. “I’d say Alex is coming over.”
My tongue darted out to wet my suddenly dry lips. But it did little to help them formulate an answer which wasn’t going to land me in a world of elbow bumps and jeers. I wanted to lie and shake my head — if only for the momentary relief it would bring me — but I knew in less than an hour, Alex would be showing up at our door, calling my bluff.
“I can neither confirm nor deny —”
Liv pointed at me. “Oh my god, he is! He is?” Her mouth dropped open.
Head hanging slightly, I nodded. “Yes.” After I let the word slip out, my hands shot up like two stop signs that might temper her reaction. “We’re talking about the case. And he’s only coming here because I didn’t want to leave you and Hammy alone.” A threatening stare helped my point hit home.
“Sure. Totally innocent. Got it.” She turned away from me, probably so I couldn’t see the grin spreading across her face.
“We’re not even friends.”
“Hmm…” Liv said, looking over her shoulder. “The lady doth protest too much, methinks.”
My face broke into a huge grin and I lunged at Liv, wrapping her into a hug-crush. “Quoting Shakespeare? You’re officially my favorite. I forgive you.”
Liv squirmed. “Okay, okay. Don’t get too excited. I have no idea who said it or what play it’s even from.”
My face was deadpan. “Queen Gertrude, during the play within a play scene during The Tragedy of Hamlet: Prince of Denmark, and she says it in response to the play within a play that—”
“Nope,” Liv interrupted me and put her hands up like stop signs. “Business major, here. No literary analysis for me. Maybe you can talk literature with Alex, though.”
Pointing at her back, I said, “Don’t embarrass me, Benson.”
Let’s just say, the wink she gave me before disappearing into her room, didn’t inspire confidence.
The rapping of knuckles on our door made me jump, even though the clock had warned me we were nearing seven.
After the hard time Liv had given me, I’d mussed some of the pillows on the couch, thrown a sweater here and put a dirty glass there to make it look like I hadn’t spent so much time cleaning on his behalf. So when I opened the door, I felt pretty confident Alex would be neither grossed out nor suspicious of the state of our humble apartment.
Said confidence leaked out from my pores as my eyes combed up and down his tall frame. Even in his casual jeans and sweatshirt, he had a way of making me feel underdressed — granted, I was wearing leggings and a second-hand sweater, but we were in my home for Pete’s sake.
“Evening,” he said, smiling.
“Er — come in.” I stepped back to let him in as Hamburger ran out from where she’d been snoozing in Liv’s bedroom, letting out a few high-pitched barks as she pranced around my feet.
“Hey there, Hot Dog.” Alex walked inside and closed the door behind him.
I shot a glare right between his eyes.
Alex put his hands up. “Sorry… Hamburger.” He dipped his chin in an apology, but his face wrinkled and he added, “You realize that’s not much better, right?”
The man had a point. I shrugged.
Hammy didn’t seem to mind his teasing, however, because in addition to his formal apology, Alex knelt down and scratched behind her ears. After a few seconds, my fierce protector was tongue-lolling putty in his hands, looking up into his eyes lovingly.
I scrunched my toes up in my woolly socks. “Wanna tour?”
He stood and nodded. “Absolutely.”
Flourishing my hand to my right, I said, “This is the sitting parlor.” I used the haughty British accent Liv and I used while watching Downton Abbey. Unsure where that had come from, I decided to go with it. “We barely use the room, but our maid Flora insists we take our tea here in the evenings.” I waved a hand at the worn, lumpy gray sofa Liv’s dad had given us.
Alex’s mouth quirked up at one end. He seemed to appreciate my weird sense of humor.
“Very nice,” he said after a second.
Walking forward and doing a pirouette on the linoleum, I motioned around me at the kitchen. “And then there’s the larder, of course. We spared no expense. Highest quality etcetera, etcetera.” I gestured to the old oven, on which only two of the four burners worked.
Alex pressed his lips together and lifted his eyebrows.
Wafting past him, I glided to Liv’s open doorway. “Olivia is taking respite in her quarters,” I said, choking on that last word as Alex squeezed himself next to me in the doorway and poked his head in.
Liv looked up from her laptop, books spread around her on her bed, glasses perched on her nose — she only wore them around the apartment, opting for her contacts most of the time — her blond hair twisted up and held in place with a pencil.
Because she was my best friend for a very good reason, Liv played along, tipping up her nose and saying, “Greetings, good sir. Many welcomes and good tidings, cheerio.” She gave a quick princess wave.
I sti
fled a giggle. The end could use some work, but I loved her for the effort.
Alex placed an arm behind him and bowed. The fact he fit in with us so well was making it hard to remember I wasn’t supposed to like him. Apparently I wasn’t the only one who was already at ease with Alex’s presence. Hammy vaulted onto Liv’s bed and curled up at her feet, heaving a big sigh as her eyes fluttered closed.
I took him across the small hallway to my room.
“And here is the master suite.” My accent faded. I bit my lip as I peered into my bedroom with the critical gaze of someone seeing a space they knew too well through someone else’s eyes.
I suddenly felt self-conscious about the lights I’d criss-crossed above my bed, the wall of framed book quotes I’d collected over the years — Dad had gotten me one mostly every Christmas — and the Pinterest-inspired book lamp Maggie had made me for my twenty-first birthday. The way Alex’s dark eyes roamed over my stuff with a full grin stretched across his face made my skin tingle as if he were looking me up and down instead.
His gaze landed on the platform nine and three quarters sign I’d placed above the door to the bathroom. With a quick nod, he turned to me.
“Just what I’d expected.”
I wasn’t sure how I felt about him having expectations of my bedroom. It flustered me enough that I ended my haughty tour with a quick, “Um… bathroom’s through there, if you need it.”
Scuttling away from him, I plopped myself down in one of the squeaky chairs we’d placed around our small kitchen table. The list of suspects and clues Liv and I had created sat in the center, so I pulled it close to me and grabbed a pen from the cup sitting flush with the wall.
Alex settled across from me. “Nice place.”
Swallowing, I said, “Thanks. Can I get you something to drink?”
He shook his head. “I’m good.”
Tapping the pen against the table, I felt my nerves creep into my cheeks in hot waves. “Anyway, how ‘bout this case?” I widened my eyes in a “crazy, huh?” kinda way. Then I pointed the pen down at the notepad. “So whatcha got?” My fingers wrestled the cap from the pen and my hand poised to write.
