Hindsight: Out of the Blue (Part 1)

by Kelly Martin

  Chapter Nine

  The girl in the bathroom turned out to be Kalynn Rogers. She was the Weston's maid. Oliver ID'ed her and so did Weston Senior. A bunch more cops came. An ambulance was sent away. It wasn't needed. Kalynn had been dead for at least an hour.

  I blended into the background there on the couch. It was like I wasn't even there, and I guess, to those people, I wasn't. The sheriff was busy with the crime scene. Oliver and his father were over in a corner talking. There seemed to be some tension going on, but they were trying very hard to cover it up.

  Now, I of course, couldn't know that at the time. I couldn't read their minds, but I've always been really good at reading body language. And those men's body languages said 'stressed out'. I never heard a word they said. Not one. They were careful to keep their voices low and not throw suspicion on themselves. Everyone else was so busy around that they didn't notice the tension or old man Weston leaving the room and Oliver pacing like a caged lion. They didn't see Oliver rake his fingers through his hair, rubbing his stubbly beard, and ball up his fist like he wanted to hit something.

  But I saw.

  And when Oliver's eyes met mine, he saw too.

  J and the sheriff came out of the bathroom and let some others go in. The 'others' I assumed were from the coroner's office. Maybe some other officers, though I couldn't imagine Linley had many officers. Probably didn't have much of a need.

  Besides the three other murders, I figured Linley didn't have much in the way of crime.

  I was right.

  But it wouldn't stay that way.

  Thinking about it, I wondered — in passing — if maybe the four murdered women had something in common. A banker, a morgue attendant, a waitress and now the Weston's maid.

  If I had thought harder, much harder, and if I had kept my mind on the facts and not on how pretty J looked walking out of the bathroom — how she walked past Oliver without giving him a second glance — If I had only concentrated, I could have figured it out. I was an English major after all. I wanted to be a mystery writer. I knew how to thread a puzzle together. Almost like a detective, only without the issues of real people and real bodies.

  As it was, I forgot all about the other three murders at that moment and focused solely on J. Her hair had fallen down around her face and her lipstick had nearly disappeared. It was fine with me. I liked her better natural anyway.

  Standing up to greet her seemed like the right thing to do, though I suppose there isn't a total 'right' way to do things when it came to situations like that.

  "Are you okay?" I asked after shoving my hands toward my pants pockets, then realizing I had on pajama bottoms and not blue jeans, which sort of embarrassed me a little. All these men in their suits. J in her pretty black dress. And me in my pajamas.

  But it wasn't about me, was it?

  She smiled slightly and nodded.

  The sheriff spoke before anyone else could. "I'll get Benton to take you two home. I'll come over later tonight and get your statement, okay, Jordan?"

  She turned around to stay something to him, and Oliver — sweet, psychotic Oliver — beat her to it. "I can take her home. I brought her after all."

  The sheriff's jaw did the same thing as mine — stiffened. "I don't think that's such a good idea. You'll be questioned too and I don't want anyone to think you two worked on your story."

  I don't know if the sheriff or J saw it, but I definitely did. Oliver's eyes dilated just a bit. Just enough to give me pause, and for the first time — sadly — it made me think about what had happened here. It wasn't about me and J, or even Oliver for that matter. It was about that dead girl in the bathroom. Someone had killed her.

  It was a murder investigation. And J would have to give a statement since she found the body.

  And Oliver, I supposed, because he lived in the house and the young woman was one of his maids.

  Oliver… his dad… all the other staff… and everyone else at the party. They would all have to be questioned. I hoped their stories lined up, and I hoped they found the killer. If there was a killer — though since she fell out of the closet, I assumed someone had placed her in it.

  Anyway, I've gone off topic.

  Oliver offered to take J home and the sheriff clearly wasn't happy about it. "Thanks, Oliver. But I need to get your statement first."

  Oliver tilted his head. "Why?"

  "Because you live here. I can get Jordan's later at home. Logistics and all. In fact," the sheriff tapped Officer Benton on the shoulder, "can you please take Jordan and Walker home now. I need to have a chat with Oliver."

  "I need my father present," young Mr. Weston said. I pictured him with his nose up like a stuck up person. Or a parakeet. Or a fine, arrogant British gentleman.

  The sheriff had an answer for everything. "You are over eighteen. We don't need your father present. We can, however, have a lawyer present if you'd feel more comfortable, but it is just routine. We have to interview everyone. Not single anyone out."

  It took a few seconds, but Oliver finally resigned himself to the fact that he had to be questioned like everyone else. "I'll call you later." He bent down and kissed J's cheek.

  I wanted to throttle him.

  And I had no right to think it.

  Not at that time anyway.

  I think somehow I knew… even then, I knew that Oliver Weston shouldn't be around J. But I had no right to say anything. Like I keep saying. I barely knew her even if I had seen her almost naked.

  "Okay," J said and kissed Oliver on the cheek. When she started out the door, Oliver had the audacity to smirk at me. Like he knew I had some sort of feelings for the girl. He couldn't know… heck, I didn't know. Maybe he just liked that he won that particular match. He did have a tendency to like things like that.

  Sheriff Rivers patted me on the shoulder and motioned for me to leave behind J. So, I did.

  I might sound paranoid to you, but I could feel Oliver's eyes boring holes in the back of my neck with every step I took away with J. One thing I could gather very quickly about him, he was very possessive of what he thought was his. I never thought of a girl as mine before. It seemed so strange to me. A girl was her own person with her own ideas, friends… life. Oliver didn't have the same ideals as I had. I knew it then. I learned it later.

  When we got to Officer Benton's police car, I just assumed J would get in the front seat and I'd get in the back like a criminal. But you know what they say about assuming things. To my surprise, J climbed in the back of the cruiser with me. I looked at Benton. He looked at me and shrugged. It seemed ungentlemanly to get in the front seat myself. I didn't want people to take pictures of her in the back of a squad car and assume that she had done something wrong or had been involved with the death of that girl.

  So I slid in the back seat with her.

  To be totally honest, it was the first time I'd ever been in the back of a police car. I can't say I liked it much, but I tried not to freak out about it. It was just like a taxi… a taxi with windows that couldn't roll down, a driver with a gun, and lots of technical equipment in the front seat.

  I can do this… I had to keep thinking to myself. It wasn't like it was a terribly long ride home.

  We left and I watched Weston Manor turn smaller and smaller behind us. More officers arrived. I assumed to question the rest of the crowd.

  "Are you okay?" I whispered to J, not really wanting Officer Benton to hear our conversation. I can't say why I didn't want him to hear. I guess I was just a bit paranoid at the time.

  "Fine," she said and hugged her arms around herself. It was August, but I could tell she was freezing. I hoped she wouldn't go into shock.

  Not taking the time to even think that she wouldn't want it, I took off the long sleeved shirt I had tied around my waist and draped it over her shoulders. She hesitated for a second then settled under it and mouthed 'Thank you'.

  She didn't say anything else on the way home and neither did I. I wanted to put my arm around
her, hold her, tell her everything would be alright, but I chickened out. What if she didn't want me to? What if she yelled at me or something? She was with Oliver, after all. Not me.

  So we sat in a strange sort of silence until we got to Main Street and our apartment. I thanked Officer Benton for the ride home. He said no problem and implied that he would probably go back to the crime scene. J flinched at the words crime scene. To her it had been a party, something fun. I don't think she wanted to think of the negative.

  Officer Benton left and I helped J walk to the door. Thankfully, J hadn't forgotten her keys. I opened the door and helped her inside. Mrs. Bainbridge ran out of her room to meet us. She'd heard about a death at Oliver Weston's house and got worried. J assured her she was okay, but I could tell she wasn't. I think Mrs. Bainbridge could too, but she didn't push her. She just smiled and kissed J on the cheek. J smiled back, though halfhearted, and started up the stairs to her room.

  When I started to follow along, Mrs. Bainbridge gently laid her hand on my arm. "Watch her," she mouthed so J couldn't hear.

  I nodded and, feeling at home for the first time since I'd moved to Linley, kissed Mrs. Bainbridge on the cheek. In a short time, I'd grown to love that woman. Love her like a grandmother.

  Looking back, I'd grown to love a lot in Linley in such a short amount of time. Some would call it lust… not after Mrs. Bainbridge, or at least I hope not after Mrs. Bainbridge, but after J. I would call it the beginning stages of love. At least, I'd call it love then. I don't know that I'd call it love now.

  All I knew at the time, at that very moment, was that I wanted to do my best to take care of J and make it all better for us. I knew she'd had a horrible day — first day of school on top of finding a dead girl.

  I followed her up the stairs to her room. It hit me as I climbed the stairs that my knee was still killing me. I hadn't thought about it at Oliver's. Maybe it did have some sort of psychosomatic stuff to it? I didn't have the time or the desire to think about it right then. I thought about it a lot later, though. And now I have no excuse for a limp.

  But that's for the last bit of this, isn't it? You only wanted the beginning.

  I stopped at J's room. Her door stood wide open as usual. She took off her high-heeled black shoes and sank down onto her couch.

  I had two choices: stand outside and talk or go upstairs and go to bed. Tomorrow wouldn't be any easier in college. It would still technically be a first day since I'd never been to those classes before and it was getting late.

  I chose option three.

  "Rough day." It wasn't a question. I said it as I strolled under her threshold and toward where she was sitting.

  To her credit, J didn't throw me out.

  She smirked sadly at my juvenile assessment of the day. "Yeah. You could say that." She pulled my long-sleeved shirt from around her shoulders and handed it back to me.

  Without an invitation, I sat next to her on the couch and sank into the cushions. Okay. This couch was way too comfortable. I'll say it again. Either that or I was dog-tired. I think it had something to do with both because my eyes started getting heavy. I hesitated a few seconds, not really knowing what to say.

  Finally, I decided to stop being a coward and ask her exactly what happened at Oliver's.

  She took a deep breath and cracked the tension in her neck. When I'd decided that I had asked the wrong questions, she started talking. "I was getting tired of being there. It was boring. Most of the parties Oliver takes me to are. A bunch of stiff stuck ups his father knows, chatting. Oliver likes to chat too and he likes to show me off by his side. I don't mind much." She shrugged. "He's good at it. Mingling I mean. He's a natural. But the parties aren't my type of thing. I'd rather be here in my old clothes, reading or something like that."

  "Party animal," I tried to kid.

  "I know, right?" When she smiled, I smiled. "Anyway, it was right after supper. They were still mingling and I was getting tired. So, like I normally do, I excused myself to go to the restroom to 'freshen up'. Really I just go in there to have ten minutes to chill. There's always so many people, it's like I can't breathe."

  I could understand that.

  Once she started talking, it was like she couldn't stop. "So, there I was. Enjoying the quiet when I saw the linen closet opened just a bit. I didn't think much about it at the time. I knew Ruby, the older maid lady, had quit a few days before and they had hired a new girl who probably didn't know that Mr. Weston only accepted perfection. He would have died if he'd seen the door open… no pun intended," she added as an afterthought.

  "None," I said in my abnormally raspy voice. It only got that low when I had a cold or when I was nervous. I didn't think I was nervous around J, but I guess my body was.

  If she noticed the change in my tone, she didn't mention it. Then again, it would have been strange, bordering on rude, to say, Hey, dude… what's up with your new husky voice.

  Instead, she pulled the barrette out of her hair and let it cascade around her face. She hid behind it. I'm not sure if she knew she was hiding her tears or if it just happened. It didn't work, though. Even with her hair blocking her face, I could still see everything. I could still hear the sadness in her voice. But, like always, she wanted to protect me. She always protected me. Or at least, tried to. Even when there was nothing she could do, she tried.

  Not looking at me, she continued with her story. "I decided to wash my hands and noticed there wasn't a hand towel next to the sink like Mr. Weston demands. I didn't want the new girl to get in trouble. I know how difficult Oliver's dad can be, so I thought I'd be nice and help out."

  She lowered her head, making her dark hair cascade around her face more.

  I couldn't take it anymore. I needed to see her and let her know that no matter what, it would be okay. I'd take care of her. As easily as I could, I reached up and raked her hair behind her ear. She looked at me for a split second, then back to her fingers.

  "What happened next?" I asked.

  She sighed. "It wasn't like it was a spectacular point in time. I turned around, opened the door. It was already open so I didn't have to use the handle and then… plop. She just fell out on the floor."

  "Was she standing or sitting? You know. Before she fell." I asked. Not sure why. I guess to keep her talking.

  "Sitting. I guess. Leaned against the door maybe. She fell. Her eyes were fixed open, looking at nothing. But I felt for a pulse anyway. She was cold, but not freezing, know what I mean?"

  "So she hadn't been dead long?" I asked.

  She shook her head, undoing my good deed of putting her hair behind her ear. So… I put her hair back again. It was becoming a habit, one I didn't mind doing.

  "I don't think so. I thought about doing CPR, but her lips were already blue and with no pulse… I don't know. I panicked. Maybe I'm not cut out for law enforcement."

  Since I'd already touched her hair twice, I decided to heck with it. I put my fingers under her chin and turned her face toward me. I wanted to, but I didn't let my fingers linger. "Anybody would have panicked. I would have."

  "You are going to school to be a writer," she teased. It was nice to hear her tease.

  "Still… I would freak out if I saw what you saw."

  She bit her lip and started rocking very slowly. I mean, she wasn't rocking like she was in a rocking chair, but she was obviously trying to comfort herself without me knowing what she was doing. Protecting me again.

  "She had on a black skirt and shirt. Short-sleeved like mine. The top part of her hair had been pulled back. I mean, she was the maid, but she had dressed up nice for the party. I guess Victor had given her a talking to about looking nice for the guests. Except for her eyes, vacant, she looked normal. I mean, she hadn't been hacked to death. I didn't even see much blood. Just a small gash on her forehead. But she had bruises around her neck."

  I knew what that meant. Didn't have to be a law major to know that.

  "Strangled."

  "Yeah. Not li
ke the other girls." J shifted her legs under herself. "Like I said. I panicked. I pulled out my phone and I thought pushed 9-1-1, but I guess I got you. You are number 9 on my speed dial. Guess I hit the wrong button."

  I thought back to that call and how scared I'd been. I didn't want anything bad to happen to J.

  It took everything I had not to wrap my arm around her and pull her to me. I wanted to comfort her, be there for her, and tell her it would be alright, even though I knew, to her, it wouldn't be.

  After we'd sat there for a few seconds, I decided to screw it. I put my arm around her and pulled her against me. To my surprise, she didn't pull away. She sank against my chest almost like she needed me to hold her.

  I put my lips to her hair, not sure if you would call it a kiss or not. I didn't. Not yet anyway. "If you need to talk, I'm right here. I'll listen."

  "Jordan." We both heard the familiar voice from the open door. He didn't sound happy.

  "Oliver," she said, pushing me away and standing. "Did you give your statement to Joshua?"

  He nodded and walked in with his hands behind his back. If I had to guess, knowing what I know now, his fists were probably balled up and he was ready to throttle me. As it was, he remained calm. "I did. He'd talking to my dad and a few other guests now. I'm not sure why. I had nothing to do with her death."

  "It's your house. He just wants to be thorough," J said. I noticed how her shoulders slumped when she talked to him. Like she knew she should slink back or something. I hated it. Hated how she acted around him. It wasn't right.

  "I suppose," he said with a fake smile plastered on his lips. "Anyway. It's done. And I'm wired. I came over to see how you were and if you'd like to go out and have some pie with me."

  I think we both had the same flabbergasted reaction. Hers was verbal. Mine was more of a raised eyebrow and an 'are you serious' eye roll. Oliver never gave me a second glance. "Pie or whatever you'd like for dessert. It's been a rough day for you, Jordan. I want to help you make it better."

  He held out his hand. "Please."

  I'd like to say that she didn't fall for it. That she smacked him and ran into my arms, but she didn't. I think she was thinking about telling him no, but before she could, Oliver's phone rang in the breast pocket of his suit.

  He answered it and his eyes got huge. "They did what? He… what?"

  J turned and looked at me on the couch. I did the same for her and shrugged. A second later, he ended the call and looked like he wanted to throw the phone across the room. "He confessed."

  "Who?" asked J.

  "My father." His eyes were wide. "He confessed to killing that girl. The sheriff has taken him in."

  J shook her head. "Why… why would he do that? And why would he confess so quickly?"

  "Why does my father do anything?" Oliver had a hard tone to his voice. One of a son who didn't really appreciate his father. Or a spoiled brat… or both.

  "I'm so sorry," J said. She gave him a huge hug. Oliver hugged her back, very tightly… too tightly in my opinion. "Do you need a place to stay tonight? What about your mom?"

  I didn't like the sound of that. By the look Oliver gave me, he liked it very much. "My mom was in Thailand, last I heard. I'll get Trevor to find her number if it comes to that. I don't see her caring much. In fact, she'd probably say she told us so."

  J put her hands on either side of Oliver's chiseled face… and I thought I'd be sick. "I don't think she will. I've known your family since I can remember. I don't see how he could have done this. I don't see how he could have killed someone, much less a young girl."

  Oliver put his hands on J's and moved them off his face. "Kalynn was your age. Hardly a young girl. Oh man, I have to call her parents." He sat down on the couch like his dog had just died, but I had a feeling he couldn't have cared less about Kalynn. She was the help. He probably didn't even know her last name.

  J sat down between us, but she turned toward Oliver. "Joshua will do that. He'll probably have to do some sort of official police business or something."

  "I'm sorry," Oliver said, holding her hand. "I never should have asked for you to have the night off. I stuck my nose where it didn't belong and it wasn't fair to you. Look what happened."

  J smiled. "I don't think you could have foreseen murder."

  He shrugged. "Maybe not. But still. I'm sorry."

  I couldn't take any more, just like I can't stand talking about it anymore now. "Well, if you are okay, J, I'll go on upstairs. Early morning tomorrow. I'll drive tomorrow if you want."

  She opened her mouth to say something, but Oliver beat her to it. "If I'm spending the night, I can take her. It's no big deal, but hey…" He extended his hand. "Thanks for everything."

  His eyes were dark and I knew he was just doing this grand gesture thing for J's benefit. It took everything I had to smile back. My jaw hurt the next morning from clinching it so hard, but I did it. I smiled and I shook his hand. And then we both squeezed each other's hands like it was a competition. I'm secure enough to admit Oliver won. And he was bastardly enough to acknowledge it with a wink. One J couldn't see of course.

  I couldn't look at J before I left. I should have I guessed. It wasn't like I had any reason or right to be mad at her. She was just doing what she thought was right. She was supporting her boyfriend and not cheating on him with the guy upstairs. In any other girl, I would have been proud. In this case, I wanted to go upstairs and forget any of this night had happened. What a sorry way to start your college career.

  Without a second glance at J, I turned and walked out of her apartment, sure to slam the door behind me. Okay, I didn't mean to slam it as hard as I did, but it happened. Even then, I knew I didn't like Oliver, and I sure didn't like leaving him with J. Had I known then what I know now…

  But I guess I say that a lot, don't I? The point of all this is that I didn't know. I had a hunch, a gut feeling, but nothing I could pinpoint. At the time, I assumed it was because I wasn't over Lauren yet and wanted to move on with J. It was a rebound… nothing more. Or so I convinced myself then.

  With my tail firmly planted between my legs and my knee killing me, I went up to my apartment and slammed my own door. Mrs. Bainbridge would probably yell at me about it in the morning. Another swell day.

  Since I was already in my pajamas, I went straight to bed and climbed under my covers. I figured I'd be so tired, I'd go to sleep easily, but I couldn't. The ceiling became very interesting, or at least, the parts I could see of it from the streetlights coming through my windows.

  It wasn't just J downstairs with Oliver — in her apartment — all night, that was bothering me, though that had a big part in it. No, something about the dead girl bothered me. Something wasn't right about it. Why would Oliver's father automatically confess? There wasn't even an investigation? What was with all the secret talks between Victor and Oliver while the sheriff was looking at the body? And why would Victor kill a girl in the middle of a very public party for the rich and influential of Linley? It didn't make sense.

  I found out later, the sheriff had the same concerns, but he also had a confession and newspapers drooling over this story. And the public, who wanted to try and convict Oliver's dad overnight. The public might like celebrities, but they like to watch them fall more. Especially when that 'celebrity' is a rich, influential person in the community. No telling how many of those 'lowly lower class' people he'd ticked off or stepped on during his rise to the top.

  But like I said, I knew none of that then.

  Hindsight is an interesting thing. You can see so clearly months, even years later. You know exactly what you should have done and how you could have prevented things from happening. You know how you could have protected the ones you lo—

  You know how things could have ended differently if you had made different choices.

  Hindsight. God's curse to us all.

  That's how I got here today. That's how I got to talking to you. Hindsight. Wrong choices made. Lives ruined.
r />   If I could go back and do it all over again, I wouldn't have stayed in that bed. I would have run downstairs and forced Oliver to leave. I would have confessed my feelings — new as they may have been — to J and held her close. I would have done a lot of things differently.

  As it was, I just lay there, staring at the ceiling. Fuming about things I didn't like and worried about what tomorrow would bring.

  I know now, three months later, what tomorrow would bring.

  It brought a man with the biggest black heart I'd ever seen, and the beginning of the end for the girl who took me by surprise out of the blue.