Maisie Fezziwig 01-Hickory Dickory Dead

by Cheryl Bradshaw

  “What was he doing there?”

  Lena shrugged. “I don’t know for sure. He was arguing with some guy. Both of them were mad, all up in each other’s faces.”

  “Was anyone else in the room?”

  “Yeah, Zoey’s roommate Linda Perry.”

  “Where was Linda when you walked in?”

  “Hiding in the bathroom. She didn’t come out until the guy arguing with Lane left.”

  “What were they arguing about?”

  She shrugged. “I don’t know. When I walked in, they stopped talking. The other guy walked out, and Lane acted like nothing had happened.”

  “Do you know the name of the guy he was arguing with?”

  “Sorry, I don’t. It was the first time I saw him.”

  Erin’s eyes lit up. “I just thought of something. Zoey was in a photography class. She took pictures all the time. There’s an album on her Facebook page full of photos she took in school last year. There’s a small chance this guy, whoever he is, might be in one of them, and if he isn’t, we can always ask Linda Perry.”

  “It’s worth a try, isn’t it?” Maisie said.

  Erin left the room and returned a few minutes later, laptop in hand. She handed it to Lena. Lena logged on and went to Zoey’s page, hesitating a moment as she gazed at her sister’s profile picture. She sighed, then clicked on Zoey’s albums. She located the college album and scrolled down the page. About halfway down, she pressed a finger to the computer screen. “This is him. This is the guy I saw.”

  Maisie and Erin leaned in.

  “Says his name is Brennan Allen,” Maisie said. “It’s a good start. Did you tell the police about the argument Lane had when they were here?”

  Lena shook her head. “I didn’t think it was important until now.”

  An infuriated Erin raised her voice. “Didn’t think it was important? Your sister is out there somewhere with some ... some monster. Some killer. And you’re sitting here with the details that might bring her home. Honestly, Lena.”

  CHAPTER 16

  College kids were so naïve these days. A few nonchalant questions about who lived in which dorm, and Maisie was personally escorted to Linda Perry’s room by not one but two college students—no questions asked. Linda’s door was slightly ajar. Maisie pressed on it with a finger, opening it all the way. A few feet in front of her, Linda sat at a desk, fingers tapping on a keyboard like she was on a tight deadline. She didn’t look up when Maisie walked in. She just said, “I think you have the wrong room.”

  “I have the right room. You’re Linda Perry, aren’t you?”

  The blond-haired, blue-eyed stunner nodded.

  “Good,” Maisie said. “I’m here to see you.”

  “Me? Why? We don’t know each other, do we?”

  Maisie crossed the room, sitting on a hot-pink chair in the corner made of fake fur. She explained who she was and why she was there. Linda fidgeted while she spoke, which made Maisie suspicious. “Are you okay? You seem, out of sorts.”

  “Yeah, I’m fine. It’s nothing. I mean, it’s not nothing. It’s just, I haven’t been feeling well since I heard about Lane and Zoey. I’ve been sick to my stomach. I can’t eat. Can’t sleep.”

  “I’m sure hearing about what happened has been difficult for you.”

  Linda’s eyes doubled in size. “What do you mean? Has something else happened? Has Zoey been found? Is she okay?”

  “Oh, no, dear. Last I heard, they’re still looking for her. I was hoping you could help.”

  “How? I’ve already talked to the police twice. I don’t know what more I could say that I haven’t already said.”

  “Sometimes the smallest detail makes all the difference. It’s the reason you’ve been questioned twice already. Now, can we talk about your relationship with Lane?”

  “My relationship? We didn’t have a relationship. He’s always been with Zoey.”

  “What I mean to say is, were the two of you friends?”

  “I suppose so. We didn’t hang out much.”

  “What did you think of him?”

  “Nice guy. Quiet. Considerate. Always asking me if I needed anything. Always making sure we were okay. Zoey was a lucky girl. There aren’t many guys like Lane anymore.”

  “What about him made you feel that way?”

  “He was the kind of guy who’d do anything to help the people he cared about.”

  “When you say anything, did that include physical violence?”

  “What do you mean, get in a fight and punch someone? He wasn’t a violent guy.”

  “Did he own a gun?” Maisie asked.

  “A gun? No. Why?”

  She’d clenched her fists when she answered. Was she lying? Had she known about the gun?

  “I visited with Zoey’s sister Lena for a while. She said you witnessed a fight between Lane and Brennan Allen recently?”

  “It was nothing, just a misunderstanding.”

  “Over what?” Maisie asked.

  “I don’t know.”

  “Are you sure? Weren’t you here, in the bathroom the entire time?”

  Linda fiddled with the frayed hem on her shorts, rubbing it between her fingers. The pause gave her time to think, to come up with an answer. Maisie wondered what changed, why she seemed relaxed when Maisie first arrived but now seemed uneasy.

  “I was in the shower when they started arguing. I got out when I heard them, but by then, the argument was almost over. Then Lena walked in and Brennan left.”

  “Did Lane mention what they were arguing about?”

  She shook her head. “I could tell he was angry, and I’d never seen him get upset with anyone. I thought he needed to cool down, so I didn’t push.”

  “Wasn’t Zoey living at home when the argument occurred?”

  “Yes.”

  “Why was Lane in your dorm room then?”

  Several seconds went by before she answered. “He was picking up some of Zoey’s things.”

  “I’m confused. Lena said she stopped by to get the items her sister left.”

  Linda shrugged, said nothing.

  “Did you talk much to Zoey after she moved out?”

  “All the time.”

  “And she never mentioned the argument between Lane and Brennan?”

  “No, she never did.”

  Several decades had come and gone since Maisie was a young, fresh-faced college student, but if there was one thing she knew about girls Linda’s age, it was their keen interest in gossip. Any gossip in any form. And though Linda put off an illusion of disinterest, Maisie wasn’t sure she believed her.

  A college-age male entered Linda’s room like he owned the place. In looks, he was presentable, dressed in a clean, button-up shirt, jeans, and Teva sandals, but dangling from his mouth was a half-smoked joint. He was so focused on Linda, he failed to notice Maisie at first.

  He pinched the joint with his fingers, and then bent toward Linda. His attempt to hug her was refused. She turned her head, looking partly repulsed, partly mortified that Maisie was sitting there staring, witnessing what was going on.

  “What’s wrong?” the boy said. “Why aren’t you dressed? I thought you said you’d be ready to go by six.”

  “I ... uhh ...”

  “Hello there,” Maisie said.

  The boy turned, stood back up, and moved the joint behind his back like he could make it disappear. “Uhh ... ma’am.”

  Maisie frowned. “Call me ma’am again, and see what happens.”

  Linda’s hand was on her chest like she was trying to steady her breathing.

  Maisie stepped up to the boy, turned her palm upward, wiggled her fingers. “Hand it over,” she said to the boy.

  “I know, sorry,” he said. “I’ll flush it right now.”

  “You’ll do no such thing.” She snapped her fingers. “Hand it over.”

  Maisie squeezed her fingers over the joint, put it to her lips, inhaled, exhaled, and handed it back to the boy.


  He smiled. “I don’t know who you are, but, lady, you’re a trip.”

  He had no idea.

  “Who are you then?” Maisie asked. “Linda’s boyfriend?”

  “I’m—”

  “He’s nobody,” Linda said. “He was just leaving.”

  “So, you don’t have a name then?” Maisie asked. “A name like Brennan Allen?”

  CHAPTER 17

  Brennan smiled at Maisie. “You know my name, but I don’t know yours. Who are you?”

  “I’m someone who knows you had an argument with Lane Marshall right before he died.”

  Brennan waved his hands in front of him. “Wait a minute. Whoa. First off, it wasn’t some huge blowout or anything. Second, it was one argument. We cleared things up, and everything was cool.”

  “What was the argument about?” Maisie asked.

  “Why does it matter?” Linda asked. “Brennan had nothing to do with what happened to Lane or Zoey. I wouldn’t be hanging out with him if he did.”

  “I wasn’t asking you,” Maisie said. “I was asking him. Besides, how would you know? You said you didn’t know what their argument was about.”

  Brennan looked at Linda, then looked at Maisie. “Are you a relative of his or something?”

  “Nope.”

  “Well then, why are you asking about him?”

  She told him the same story she’d just told Linda.

  “The argument was stupid, honestly,” he said. “It was nothing. No big deal.”

  “Brennan, don’t,” Linda said.

  “Don’t what?” Maisie asked. “Don’t speak up? Don’t tell the truth? What are you two hiding?”

  Silence.

  “Somebody say something!” Maisie said.

  “There’s nothing to say,” Linda said. “You need to leave.”

  “I’m not leaving until I get the truth.”

  “Then you’ll be waiting here all night, because neither of us have anything to say.” Linda turned toward Brennan. “Go get the RA.”

  Maisie stood. “There’s no need.” She walked to Linda’s desk and wrote her phone number on a notepad. “If you change your mind, this is how you can reach me. I’ll go for now. But expect me to return tomorrow, and I won’t be alone. I suggest you get your stories straight.”

  CHAPTER 18

  At the door leading to the exit from the dormitory building, Maisie found herself trapped, blocked from walking out of the building and into the parking lot where her car was located. The impediment standing in her way was a girl, a hefty college student with long, thick, black hair, whose girth took up the entire width of the doorway.

  Worn out and ready for a long soak in the hot tub at home, Maisie’s lack of patience manifested. “Excuse me. I’d like to get to my car, if you don’t mind. You’re in my way. I’ll need you to move.”

  The girl craned her head and looked at Maisie like she was trying not to laugh. “I’ll move when I’m ready to move, Grandma. There’s another door around here. Find it.”

  Grandma?

  The girl slapped her knee and cackled. Then she turned and resumed the conversation she’d been having with two boys standing in front of her.

  Realizing the girl had an obvious lack of manners and needed to be taught a lesson she wouldn’t forget, Maisie reached into her handbag, moving a few things around until she found what she wanted. Scissors. She sliced them open and shut in the air for effect, and this time when the girl turned, Maisie said, “Again, excuse me, but if you value your long mane of hair as much as I assume you do, you’ll get the hell out of my way, and never, ever speak to your elder in the manner in which you just did again.”

  The girl shook her head, roaring with laughter like she found Maisie both funny and ridiculous at the same time. Once again the girl ignored Maisie’s warning and returned to her conversation. Maisie opened her scissors and sliced a four-inch section off the bottom right side of the girl’s hair. As the strands of hair fluttered to a glorious heap on the floor below, the girl felt the back of her head and screamed. And this time when Maisie snapped the scissors open and shut, the girl got out of her way.

  Halfway to her car, Maisie received a text message from Linda: Brennan and I are willing to talk, but not here. We’re being watched. We’ll meet you tomorrow morning at the coffee shop on 9th and 9th.

  CHAPTER 19

  A half hour later, Maisie sat on a padded bench in a room decorated floor to ceiling in rich mahogany. In the fifteen minutes she’d been waiting, she’d consistently tapped her foot on the floor, causing the receptionist sitting behind the desk next to her to sigh so loudly the people on the next floor should have been able to hear her. Maisie thought about stopping, but she was bored, and she didn’t want to, and she’d never been any good at waiting. So she tap, tap, tapped until the receptionist slammed a hand down on a stack of papers and stood.

  The receptionist frowned and looked over at Maisie. Through gritted teeth she said, “I’ll just pop my head in and see how much longer he’s going to be. Mmmkay?”

  “Good idea,” Maisie replied. “Tell him he has two minutes to finish up with whoever’s in there before I interrupt his meeting.”

  The receptionist’s eyes widened. “I’m sorry, what did you say your name was again?”

  “Maisie. Look, sweetie, I’ve never seen you before, and obviously you’re a new hire around here because I know everyone. I assume you’re filling in for Carolyn while she’s on maternity leave. Since it’s your first week, I’ll give you a free pass. But moving forward, you really need to work on your people skills.”

  The receptionist seethed like she had the urge to hit something hard, but otherwise maintained her composure. She cracked open the office door, looked in, and relayed the message. Less than a minute later, an older gentlemen in a suit walked out of the office. He looked at Maisie and grinned like he couldn’t believe she was the one causing all the fuss. Maisie did a quick scan of his wedding-ring finger, came up empty, and said a mental hallelujah in her mind.

  She smiled back.

  “Hello,” the man said.

  “Hello yourself,” Maisie replied.

  She stood.

  The man walked over. “Are you here to see Joe?”

  “I’m here for Joseph, yes.”

  “I apologize for keeping you waiting. If I knew you were out here, I never would have kept him so long.”

  “Oh, believe me. It was worth the wait.”

  The man stuck out his hand. “I’m Ron.”

  She accepted it, noting it was thick and firm. Manly. “Maisie.”

  Down the hall, a man and woman laughed as they stepped into an elevator, distracting from Ron from their conversation. Ron’s attention shifted, and he turned, exposing what Maisie considered to be one of the finest pieces of man ass she’d seen in recent years. Plump. Round. Juicy. And just the right amount of firmness. Before she had time to consider her actions, she swept a hand through the air, smacking his ass cheek with her hand.

  The moment her hand made impact, a familiar male voice behind her shouted, “Mother!”

  Maisie whipped around, her eyes coming to rest on her son’s mortified face. One palm turned upward, the other on his hip, he wasn’t happy, and neither was she. It wasn’t her finest moment, to be sure. Then again, it wasn’t her most unrefined one either, and she wasn’t pleased it had been interrupted.

  “Joseph,” Maisie said. “I just thought I’d stop by.”

  “You never just ‘stop by,’” Joseph said. “Why are you here, really?”

  A perplexed, red-faced Ron said, “You are the mayor’s mother?”

  Maisie nodded. “I am. So good to meet you.”

  Ron and Joseph exchanged glances like they owed each other an apology, then Ron turned, practically sprinting down the hall.

  “Darn,” Maisie said. “We were having a lovely conversation. Too bad you had to go and ruin it for me.”

  “Slapping a man you don’t know on his backside isn’t a
n appropriate thing to do. Especially when it’s in my office.”

  “It wasn’t in your office though. It was outside of it.”

  Joseph sighed and looked at the receptionist whose hand was over her mouth, stifling a laugh. “Destiny, you can go home now. Thanks for staying late today. I appreciate it. I’d also appreciate it if you didn’t mention what just happened to anyone.”

  Destiny nodded, grabbed her handbag, and walked down the hall. Once she was out of earshot, Joseph turned back to Maisie. “I can’t believe this. I really can’t believe this!”

  “Can’t believe what?”

  “We have talked about this a thousand times. You can’t hit on my colleagues. Any of them. Ever. I work with Ron. I see him almost every day. I’m not even going to be able to look him in the eye now.”

  Maisie walked into Joseph’s office. He followed, closing the door behind him.

  “He was unfamiliar to me. How was I to know he was your colleague and not just someone you had a meeting with today?”

  “You’re missing the point. Anyone you see inside the building is off limits.”

  “Are you done lecturing me?” Maisie asked. “There are more important things we need to discuss.”

  “I’m not lecturing you. Why are you here?”

  “I need some information about a couple of the students who went to school with Zoey Marshall. Their names are Linda Perry and Brennan Allen. I think they may know something about Lane’s murder and Zoey’s disappearance.”

  “Why?”

  She thought about telling him about the text she’d received, then hesitated. If he knew they’d agreed to a meeting, he might not agree to look into their backgrounds. Besides, there was no guarantee they’d actually show up to the meeting. “I just spoke to them both, and I thought they acted very strangely. They wouldn’t answer all of my questions. They’re definitely keeping things from me. I need to know what they’re hiding and if it has anything to do with the Marshalls.”