“Well, at least,” Bernie said as they drove away, “we know that someone picked Amber up. So that’s more than we knew before.”
“But who?” Libby asked, putting on her seat belt.
“That is the question, isn’t it?” Bernie replied as she stopped to get gas. The van’s gas gauge was almost on empty. “If we knew that, we’d be home free.”
“Or heading in the right direction.”
“Maybe Amber’s roommates will be able to tell us something,” Bernie said.
“Maybe,” Libby answered, trying to stay positive.
Chapter 15
Five minutes later, Libby and Bernie arrived at the house in which Amber was renting a room.
“Wow,” said Bernie as she studied the house in front of her.
Amber had changed residences four months ago, and this place wasn’t an improvement. It was ramshackle, the kind of place that students and people who are out on their own for the first time rent.
The paint was peeling on the sides, the porch was sagging, the small window in the attic had been boarded up with a piece of plywood, and one side of the roof was tarped over. Someone had tried to spruce up the place by hanging Christmas lights over the front windows, but they just called attention to the place’s deficiencies.
“Her last place definitely looked better,” Libby commented.
“That’s an understatement. I wonder why she moved?” Bernie mused.
Libby shrugged her shoulders. “Don’t know. She didn’t tell me.”
“There must have been a compelling reason,” Bernie replied. “Because I’ve got to say this place is really bad.” She was silent for a moment. Then she indicated the cars in the driveway. “At least Amber’s roommates are here, so that’s a blessing.”
Bernie parked in front of two garbage cans standing on the curb, and she and Libby walked up four stairs to the porch. One of the steps had a hole in it, and the banisters looked as if they were going to fall off any minute. The stairs groaned and buckled as the sisters stepped on them, and Libby wondered if they were going to give way. A sign pasted on the door said “bell broken,” so she knocked instead. A moment later the door opened. The smell of potato-and-leek soup greeted her. Libby inhaled. She wished she was eating some. It was the perfect meal for a night like this. She decided she’d make some for tomorrow’s lunch.
“Yes?” the boy standing in front of Bernie and Libby said.
He was tattooed and pierced, with long, black hair that flowed over his shoulders and a sweet face that belied the piercings and the devil tattooed on his arm. Bernie figured him for about eighteen, if that.
“We’re looking for Amber,” Bernie said. “We’re . . .”
The boy held up his hand, interrupting her. “I know who you are. You’re Amber’s bosses. I already explained to you on the phone that we haven’t seen her. That we didn’t even know she was gone.”
“I know you did,” Bernie continued, “but my sister and I would like to talk to you anyway.”
The boy shrugged. “I don’t think I can help. We’re just roomies. You know. Share a kitchen. That kind of thing.”
“Maybe she said something to you,” Libby observed.
“Like what?” The boy asked.
“Like about her aunt. Like about the bake-off. Like about cookies.”
“Cookies?” the boy repeated.
“Meltaways,” Bernie said.
The boy wrinkled his nose. “Meltaways?”
“Millie’s Majestic Meltaways, to be precise,” Bernie said.
The boy stepped away from the door and pivoted around. “Hey, Rudy, Marissa,” he yelled. “Come here for a sec.”
Bernie and Libby took the opportunity to step inside the house and close the door behind them. It was too cold to be standing outside. They were surprised to find that the hallway was immaculate. The walls were painted white, the floor gleamed, the bookcases in the hallway looked handmade. Five pairs of shoes were neatly stacked on a rubber mat. It just went to prove that her mom was right, Bernie thought. You really can’t tell a book by its cover.
A moment later Marissa and Rudy joined them. They looked pretty much the way Amber did. Tats, piercings, pink hair. Marissa was eating a sandwich, while Rudy was spooning up what Libby presumed to be the potato-and-leek soup she’d smelled from a bowl. Both of them were wearing hospital workers’ garb.
“They”—the boy who’d answered the door indicated Libby and Bernie with a jerk of his head—“want to know if Amber said anything to you about cookies. I thought you told me that she did.”
“Well, kinda,” Marissa said.
“What do you mean ‘kinda’?” Libby asked.
Rudy took another spoonful of soup and said, “She was going on and on about not finding the cookies, and she said she was going to carry on her aunt’s name, no matter what it took. You know, like it was some kind of holy mission or something. Very weird. She kept on calling that producer lady.”
“Penelope?” Bernie asked.
“I think,” Rudy said.
“Did you hear what she was saying?” Libby asked.
“Something about making the cookies. Then she went out and got all this stuff and started baking.”
“And then?” Bernie prompted.
“I don’t know,” Rudy said, “because we had to go to work, and when we came home the place was cleaned up. So I asked her on my way to bed what had happened to the cookies. I figured maybe she’d give me a couple. But she told me she’d thrown them out. I said that was too bad, and she said she didn’t want to talk about it anymore, so that was that.”
“Anything else?” Bernie asked.
“She was real upset when her aunt died,” Marissa said. “Real upset.” She took a thoughtful nibble of her sandwich. “She was saying that she was going to get that recipe if it was the last thing she did.”
Bernie leaned forward. “So she knew where it was?”
Rudy and Marissa looked at each other.
“I’m not sure if she meant get as in ‘I get it’ or get as in ‘go and physically take possession of it,’ ” Rudy explained.
“Did she know where it was?” Libby repeated.
Marissa took another nibble of her sandwich. “I don’t think so, because she told me she was going to talk to someone about it and see what they could tell her.”
“Did she say who?” Bernie asked.
Marissa shook her head.
“Did she say anything else?” Libby demanded.
“Not to us. Of course, we haven’t seen her since then,” Marissa said.
“Like I told you, we’re on different schedules,” the boy who opened the door for Libby and Bernie said.
Bernie noted that his voice had risen an octave.
Marissa turned to him and said, “Relax, Mike. She’s not blaming you.”
“No, Mike, I’m not,” Libby quickly assured him.
“I didn’t think you were,” Mike said, though his face told a different story. “I just feel bad not noticing. That’s really pretty lame.”
Marissa walked over, put her arm around his shoulder, and squeezed. “It’s okay,” she reassured him.
“It is,” Bernie echoed.
“I guess,” Mike said.
He doesn’t look convinced, Bernie thought as he turned and walked away.
“He’ll be fine,” Marissa told Bernie. “He just feels responsible for everyone. Something could happen on Mars, and if he knew the guy, somehow Mike will think that he should have seen it coming and done something about it.”
Bernie nodded. She got it. Her dad was like that too. She looked at Amber’s remaining roommates. “So is there anything, anything at all, you can tell us that might help?”
Marissa and Rudy shook their heads.
“Sorry,” Rudy murmured. “We kinda all tend to go our own way. You know how it is.”
“Yeah, I do,” Bernie said, thinking back to all the roommates she’d had before she’d come home to Longely. “
Do you think we could take a quick look in Amber’s room?” she asked.
Marissa took another nibble of her sandwich. “Do you think that will really help?” she asked. “She might not like you going through her stuff.”
Libby snuck a peek at her watch. She wanted to get to Alma’s before it was too late. “In answer to your question, yes, Marissa, I think it might help. I wouldn’t be asking if I didn’t think it would. Maybe Amber kept a journal or there’s a note or a piece of paper or something that will point us in the right direction.”
“Frankly, at this point,” Bernie chimed in, “I don’t think Amber would care if we went through her stuff or not. I’m sure that all she wants to do is come home.”
Marissa didn’t look convinced. “But,” she said, “what if she’s with some guy and she’s having a real cool time and you guys just barge right in?”
“That doesn’t strike me as Amber’s style,” Libby observed.
“It’s not,” Marissa conceded. She took another bite of her sandwich. “But what if she were? She’ll be really pissed at us if that’s the case.”
Bernie laughed. “Let’s hope that’s what she’s doing, and if she is, we’ll apologize and leave, and I swear that your name will never pass my or Libby’s lips.”
Libby looked at Marissa. There was something in Marissa’s manner that made her wonder if Marissa was telling her everything she knew. Libby leaned forward. “So,” she asked, “is Amber seeing someone?”
“Not really,” Marissa replied.
Bernie’s eyes narrowed. “Define not really.”
“I think this guy’s a friend.”
“You think?” Bernie said.
“That’s the vibe I got,” Marissa told Bernie. “It’s all really casual.”
“Define casual,” Libby challenged.
Marissa sighed. “I don’t know. They hang out together sometimes.”
“Do you know this guy’s name?” Bernie asked.
Marissa shook her head and ate some more of her sandwich.
Bernie turned to Rudy. “Do you?”
Rudy shook his head. “I didn’t even know that she was seeing anyone.”
“She’s not seeing him, Rudy. She’s just hanging out with him.”
“Whatever,” Rudy told Marissa. He drained the last of his soup from the bowl and turned to Bernie and Libby. “And you really think you can find her?” Rudy asked. “If it’s like that . . .”
“Like what?” Bernie asked.
“Like kidnapped or something like that, why aren’t the police here?”
“For the police to be here,” Libby explained, “someone would have to fill out a missing persons report, which we will do sometime tomorrow.”
“So why didn’t you do it sooner?” Rudy demanded.
“Because,” Bernie continued, “the sad truth of the matter is that it’s not going to make any difference. The police aren’t going to actively investigate because they usually don’t concern themselves with missing adults.”
“That’s screwed up,” Marissa said.
“Yes, it is,” Libby agreed. “But in their defense, most people who go missing come home again. And Rudy, to answer the second part of your question, yes, I think we can find Amber.”
“Why?” Rudy asked.
“Because, Rudy,” Marissa said, “that’s what they do.” Then Marissa turned to Bernie and Libby and said, “Amber used to say you two were like a cross between Nancy Drew and The Cupcake Lady. I thought she was kidding, but maybe not.”
“I guess we are,” Libby conceded, “although I wouldn’t have phrased it that way.”
“Cool,” said Marissa.
Bernie looked at her watch. She and Libby had to get down to business. “Her room?” she said.
“She’s got the third bedroom to the right on the second floor,” Rudy said, pointing to the stairs. “You can’t miss it.”
Bernie thanked him, and she and Libby went upstairs. Looking around, she was once again struck by the overall neatness of the house. Amber’s room, on the other hand, was a different story.
Chapter 16
“Wow,” Bernie said as she stepped inside Amber’s room.
“You’re repeating yourself,” Libby pointed out. “That’s what you said when you saw the house.”
“I’m impressed. I don’t think even my room was ever this bad.”
“Maybe not,” Libby said, “but it’s come close.”
Bernie nibbled on her lower lip as she surveyed the carnage. “Amber certainly has enough clothes. I’ll give her that. And coming from me, that’s saying a lot.” Bernie reached up and tightened the elastic around her ponytail. “Well, there’s one thing we know about her,” Bernie told her sister.
“And that’s?”
“She likes stuff.”
“To say the least,” Libby said. An idea occurred to her. “I wonder if Amber’s room is always like this.”
“You mean you think someone’s gone through it?” Bernie asked.
“It’s a possibility,” Libby replied. “Look at what happened in Millie’s house. Look what a mess the kitchen was in.”
“This is a different kind of mess,” Bernie pointed out.
“It’s still worth asking about,” Libby said. She stepped out into the hallway and called for Marissa to come up. “Is Amber’s room always like this?” she asked once Marissa was standing beside her.
Marissa giggled. “Pretty much,” she said. “It’s bad, isn’t it?”
“Yeah. I’m surprised,” Libby replied. “Amber’s so neat at work.”
“Obviously not in her private space,” Marissa said before she left and went back downstairs.
It took Bernie and Libby the better part of an hour to go through Amber’s room.
“Well, at least we don’t have to go through her drawers or closets since everything is out on the floor,” Bernie noted. She began picking up items of clothing, shaking them out, and going through their pockets. After she was done with each piece, she added it to a growing pile in the middle of the room.
While Bernie went through the clothes, Libby looked in Amber’s closet, dresser drawers, and nightstands for something that would give an indication of what had happened to her. She found nothing. Libby sighed and started on the bed, even though she suspected it was going to be an exercise in futility.
Libby held up a stuffed Minnie Mouse that was propped up against the headrest. “Somehow I don’t see Amber with Disney.”
“Just shows to go you that you never know,” her sister replied as she went through the pockets of a purple plaid jumpsuit.
“No, you don’t,” Libby said as she lifted up the mattress and ran her hand under the box spring.
There was nothing there. Next, Libby moved on to Amber’s desk. The first thing she did was power up Amber’s computer, but it was password-protected, and after a couple of tries Libby gave up trying to figure out the password—given Amber, it would definitely be something weird—and started on the papers strewn around it instead.
They consisted of a deck of tarot cards, an astrology magazine, a bill for her car insurance, a bill for her cell phone, and a receipt from a nail salon. The three drawers yielded receipts for her rent, a few pencils, four pairs of earbuds, an iPod, a large package of cough drops, and a twelve-inch-by-twelve-inch square of fabric with an outline of a skull and crossbones stitched on it. It took Libby a moment to recognize what it was.
Libby held it up for Bernie to see. “Is this, by any chance, a square for a patchwork quilt?”
“Let me see,” said Bernie, reaching out her hand. “You know, I think it is,” she said after she’d studied it.
Libby shook her head. “Amber quilting. Who would have thought?”
“Not me,” Bernie answered.
“It would be interesting to see what the rest of the quilt is like,” Libby mused. She couldn’t imagine sleeping under a quilt like that, but then she couldn’t imagine Amber quilting either.
At
the end of thirty minutes, the only things that Libby and Bernie had found out about Amber that they hadn’t known before, besides the quilting, was that she was a fan of Hello Kitty and Boy George, that she liked graphic novels, that she had five stuffed animals on her bed, and that she hadn’t taken her toothbrush or hairbrush with her, but her mascara and eyeliner weren’t there.
“Maybe she carries her makeup with her,” Bernie said, thinking of all the eye stuff Amber used.
“Maybe,” Libby said, “but I can’t imagine her leaving her computer or her iPod behind.”
“Me either,” Libby said. She sighed. “We haven’t found out much, except for the fact that Amber is an incredible slob.”
“But we will,” Bernie told Libby. “We’re going to talk to those ladies and kick some ass.”
Libby giggled.
“You’ll see,” Bernie said. “We’ll get to the bottom of this one way or another.” She clapped her sister on the shoulders. “Are you with me?”
“Definitely,” Libby said.
“Good,” Bernie said. “Then let’s go to Alma’s house.”
Libby nodded. “Alma’s house it is.”
Although once she was back in the van, after she and Bernie had brushed the snow off the windshield, Libby realized she didn’t have the vaguest idea how they were going to accomplish their goal, especially when Alma had every right not to speak to them.
“What if she doesn’t want to talk to us?” she asked Bernie. “What if she won’t come to the door?”
“Don’t worry,” Bernie told her as she started Mathilda up. “I have a plan.”
These were not the words that Libby wanted to hear. “Like what, exactly?”
“Like this.” Bernie reached in her bag and came out with Amber’s skull and crossbones. “Alma’s a quilter, right? We’ll ask her about this.”
Libby raised an eyebrow.
“Do you have a better idea?”
When Libby confessed that she didn’t, Bernie smirked and pulled away from the curb. The snow was coming down lightly now, and Bernie decided it looked like a lace curtain drawn over the night.
Chapter 17
It was a little after eight by the time Bernie and Libby pulled into the driveway of Alma Hall’s house.
A Catered Christmas Cookie Exchange (A Mystery With Recipes) Page 13
