by Milda Harris
Anne left after chewing me out. Even though she was really nice about it, it was still a chewing out. I hoped it would never happen again and it probably wouldn’t. I was usually a very good employee.
It was Courtney Lewis and I watching the store tonight. We got along in that way where you get along without really talking. It was how I related to most other people actually.
That was why it was kind of funny that Anne was out the door for about thirty seconds, when Courtney looked at me and said, “So, where were you?”
“I forgot I was working,” I said automatically, not looking at her, worried that my face would turn red because I was lying. I pretended to dig in my purse for my book instead.
I found the book and looked up to find Courtney still watching me, “Uh-huh. So, tell me about the guy.”
“What?” I feigned, feeling suddenly worried. I knew it wasn’t any of Courtney’s business and all, but I wasn’t good in social situations as it was, so pressuring me to admit to a lie threw me for a loop.
“The guy you were late for? It’s so obvious,” Courtney was watching me, wanting to hear my gossip for some reason.
If I’d known Courtney better, maybe I would have gossiped to her about my crush on Ethan, but we never talked. I couldn’t just come out there with it. I mean, Courtney was older than me by about three years, in college, and she might have more experience on that front than I did, but I just couldn’t trust her. Ariel had made me very, very weary of girlfriends and the damage they could inflict if you trusted the wrong one. I had trusted Ariel with everything and she had used it to try to destroy me. Not cool.
And, then it hit me. Courtney was in college, Laurel Community College to be exact. Maybe she knew something about the overdoses, er, murders. She could be an in. Of course, I was totally ignoring the fact that as of this moment, I was off the case, but whatever. I couldn’t just leave it alone. No matter what Ethan wanted to do, I was already involved.
I faked a smile or maybe it was real because I was thinking about Ethan, “Well, it’s this college guy…”
Courtney grinned at me, “A college guy? Where does he go?”
“To your school. Maybe you know him? Troy Matthews?” I asked, hoping I looked dreamy eyed and in love, and that Courtney knew him.
Courtney shook her head, “No, I don’t know him. How’d you meet him?”
I thought for a moment, “I was checking out campus, I might go there, and he walked up to me, but anyway, I found out that he dated one of the girls that overdosed and now…”
Courtney looked at me wide-eyed, “Which one? It wasn’t Melissa Kent, was it?”
“Why? Did you know her?” I asked, not really answering her question on purpose.
“Not super well, you know, but I do remember my friend who was like friends with her from church group talking about her and a guy,” Courtney started. “But I don’t remember his name for sure. It could have been a Troy.”
“What happened?” I asked, genuinely curious.
“Well, Sandy was just telling me that this guy was totally into Melissa. He was an art major and making all this cool stuff for her. It was his way of doing the whole romantic thing. Anyway, she so wasn’t into him – I mean she wouldn’t even kiss him, but for some reason she kept going out on dates with him.”
“She wouldn’t kiss him?” I asked.
Courtney nodded, “No. And, don’t get me wrong, if she doesn’t like him she doesn’t have to kiss him, but it’s just a kiss, you know? If the guy takes you out a few times, kiss him, maybe you’ll be into him after all. I mean, she kept dating him and it’s not like it’s anything big. It’s a kiss.”
“That’s weird,” I said.
“Yeah. It broke them up. I mean, he was so into her, but come on, he’s a guy. Give him a kiss at least, if you want to keep him around. Anyway, she was such a straight edge. So weird she OD’d,” Courtney said. “So, you think this is the same guy? I mean, it’s not his fault she did drugs or anything. They were broken up when she died by like at least a couple weeks.”
I nodded, “Probably not.”
Courtney nodded and then seemed to want me to continue talking about Troy. I didn’t know what else to say, so I said, “Okay, I’m going to go restack DVDs.”
I grabbed the pile of returned DVDs from the inbox and walked away from Courtney, thinking about what she’d said about Melissa. If the guy Courtney had mentioned was Troy, would Troy have killed Melissa just because he could never have her? Troy definitely needed to be investigated.
Ironically enough, as I was resolving to continue on with the case with or without Ethan, Vanessa Martin was dying.
Chapter 8: Inspecting
I didn’t know about Vanessa Martin until late Sunday night. She had been dead over twenty four hours before I even learned about her death.
Sunday, I had spent my day reading and doing homework. It has to get done sometime, even between work, guys, and murder mysteries. I did make a quick trip to Wired to get a comforting peanut butter banana milkshake (heaven on earth!), but otherwise I stayed in. I ignored all things murder and buried myself in the second Twilight book, New Moon. I’m a Team Jacob fan, so it was my favorite book, since Jacob got a lot of Bella/Jacob time in that one. Homework took a back seat to reading, but I got it done too.
I hadn’t turned on a television, read the paper, or checked my Facebook all day, when my cell phone started ringing. I thought it was Anne from work, calling me in for the Sunday night shift, but I was surprised to see the name Ethan Ripley pop up on the caller ID instead. We had exchanged numbers days ago on that Thursday night when he came to the video store. I had never really thought he’d need to call me for any reason. I thought it was one of those – I’ll delete ya’ later phone number exchanges. I guess not. Cool.
So, here was Ethan, calling me on a Sunday night at 6:23 pm. Should I answer? I was supposed to be mad at him, right? Could I stay angry at the most popular guy in school forever? Even when he was calling my cell phone? What if he was calling to apologize? Or ask me out? I answered on the second ring.
“Hello?” I asked, like I didn’t know who it was.
“Kait?” Ethan asked, like he didn’t know it was me even though he was the one calling me. Figures.
“What’s up Ethan?” I asked, trying to sound light and carefree when all I really wanted to know is why he was calling me in the first place.
Ethan sounded almost ghostly on the phone line, “Kait, Vanessa Martin was found dead in her bedroom from an overdose last night. There’s been another murder.”
“I’ll be over in twenty minutes,” I said and hung up the phone, already getting my things.
I had to get to Ethan’s house. I didn’t even remember driving there, I was in such a daze. Poor Vanessa Martin. I felt guilty. If only we could have done something more to prevent her death. If only Detective Dixon had listened to Ethan and me! Her death could have been prevented! We had printed her email out and everything for him! Even though she hadn’t talked about Troy, her message had been urgent, so it could have been a clue too. But, no, Detective Dixon had barely even looked at it! We could have saved her. If only.
And, what had Vanessa needed to talk to Liz about? Had she been murdered for that information? Ethan was supposed to have emailed her to ask, but I had no idea if he’d gotten around to it after our disastrous efforts at the police station on Saturday. Now, it was too late to find out what Vanessa knew and why she had felt like it was such an urgent matter.
I pulled up to Ethan’s house and realized that I had invited myself over to his house, without really asking. I only realized this because his house was ablaze with light. It looked like the whole family was home. Did Ethan want me to come in and meet his family? I wasn’t so sure. I also felt really, really nervous all of a sudden. I was afraid to meet them.
I sat in my car, pulled my cell phone out of my purse, and dialed. Ethan answered on the first ring, “Hey.”
“I’m sitti
ng outside your house,” I said, glancing at his house, toward where I thought his window might be. A dim glow emanated from it.
“Come on up. I’ll be right down to meet you,” I could hear the springs from his bed moving, like he was getting up to head downstairs.
“Your family…” I started.
“It’s okay. Don’t worry. They don’t know what we’re doing. I’ll just say you’re a friend. I have friends over all the time,” Ethan said, hanging up.
He had friends over all the time, huh? How many girls was he dating? Was I ready to meet his family? I mean, we were just friends. Were we even that? Wait. Had Ethan Ripley just called me his friend? I got out of the car and walked up to the house, curious to find out the status of our relationship.
“Hey,” Ethan said, opening the door, just as I was about to ring the doorbell.
His hair was wet, like he had just gotten out of the shower. It was more curly than wavy when it was glistening with water. Was it possible for him to get more hot? I think not. I walked past him into the entryway. I could hear the murmurs of a little girl talking in the kitchen and a television on in the family room, down the way. I glanced at Ethan, unsure how to proceed. Did his parents let him just bring girls up to his room on Sunday nights? Did I have to meet them first?
“I already told them I had a friend stopping by. They’ll leave us alone,” Ethan shrugged, guessing my question.
I walked in and he shut the door behind me, before he started heading up the stairs to his room. I hoped his parents didn’t think what I think they were thinking. I wanted to create a good impression, you know, just in case. Then again, being that none of them saw me walk in, maybe they just thought I was a guy. Maybe. Was it wrong to sort of want to meet his parents now? Wait a second. Or, was Ethan embarrassed of me? Was that a possibility? I shook my head to clear it. We were investigating a girl’s death. Priorities.
As we walked up toward Ethan’s room it occurred to me that there was one thing I wanted to do before we went to his room to discuss strategy. It was something we hadn’t done the last time I was there, “Can I see your sister’s bedroom?”
Ethan looked at me for a long moment before he nodded and walked to the other end of the hallway.
Liz’s room was decorated with pictures of Paws and other animals. She also had a bookshelf in her room, but although hers had a few books, there were a ton of animal figurines that she must have collected since she was a kid.
Ethan seemed uncomfortable, “It feels really weird to be in here now.”
“I know,” I nodded as I looked around. It took awhile for my dad and me to even box up my mother’s things. Who knew how long it would take for Ethan and his parents to pack up a sister and daughter.
We were quiet as we looked around the room. Ethan just glanced, but I moved forward and into the room, to take a closer look. I wasn’t thrilled about rummaging through a dead girl’s things, but it had to be done. Maybe there was some kind of clue in here. Maybe she had noticed something weird about Troy. Or maybe she had left some kind of clue about her murderer. Or, if the police were really right, maybe she had a stash of heroin in her underwear drawer.
I actually wasn’t sure what I was looking for in Liz’s room. I just wanted to be thorough. I was hoping a clue would jump out at me. Liz was the one girl we actually had access to – her life was an open book because of Ethan. We could actually go into her room and not be breaking and entering. The other girls – Olivia and Melissa and now Vanessa, were not, except for what was on the internet. I couldn’t imagine going up to their mothers or siblings or even friends, as strangers, interrogating them and asking about their deaths. I had already thought about it and dismissed it. They wouldn’t talk to Ethan or me about it on their own and it could take eons for us to somehow ingratiate ourselves into their lives. Girls kept dying. Wasting time was not an option. Liz was our best lead for clues. So, we needed to be thorough with Liz.
“Did she keep a diary or anything?” I asked as I opened a drawer full of pens, erasers, pencils, paper clips, staples and all the usual school supplies.
I kept a diary sometimes. It was really sporadic and totally eighth grade, but when I really needed to get something out, I used it. It was currently hiding underneath my mattress where I knew my dad would never look. I know I wasn’t the only girl with one either. If I remembered correctly, Ariel had a diary too – with Princess Jasmine on it from Aladdin – and kept it hidden in a shoebox in her closet. Ariel had made me privy to that secret when we used to be best friends. What I wouldn’t give to read up on her secrets now. Not that I’d use them against her or anything. I don’t think.
Ethan was still standing at the doorway watching me look around. He seemed almost afraid to enter the room.
He shrugged, “When we were kids I think she had one, but I have no idea if Liz has a diary now. She wouldn’t have shown it to me, that’s for sure.”
“But I thought you guys were close?” I asked, although even if I had a brother I really, really liked I wouldn’t have shown him my diary either.
“Yeah, most of the time,” Ethan nodded.
“Most of the time?” I opened another drawer. It was full of notebooks and papers.
“Well, I mean she was my sister. She could be a real pain sometimes,” Ethan said. “She took forever in the bathroom and she could be so self righteous about her causes. I mean, she was probably right and all, but sometimes it drove me nuts how I did everything wrong.”
“That makes sense,” I said as I picked through the papers in the drawer, but it was mostly schoolwork, junk mail for credit cards, and nothing of interest. I picked up her mattress. Nothing there. I turned toward her dresser. That would be the next place I’d probably hide something, as typical as that is. I riffled through the drawers as Ethan watched me quietly. And, bingo! There it was, underneath a stack of tank tops. I had found Liz’s diary.
Ethan’s room was only lit by the dim glow of his desk lamp. The towel he must have just used was damp and draped across the back of his desk chair. His guitar was lying on his bed. I wished I could hear him play sometime. Maybe I’d ask, one day.
I had Liz’s diary in my hands. It was more than half way full, so it was going to take me a little while to read. Ethan didn’t want to read it. I understood. I’d be reading her most private, innermost thoughts once I read it and for Ethan that would be exceedingly painful right now. I was going to go through it at home and let him know if I found anything relevant. I’ll admit, I was dying to read it. Right now, though, we had to decide what to do about Vanessa Martin.
Ethan walked over to his computer and sat down at his desk, motioning me to sit down on his bed, “My mom told me about Vanessa. She had gotten a call from a neighbor who had gotten a call from a friend. Vanessa’s family didn’t really want it to get out about the ODing on heroin. I can understand that. People look at you differently if they think you missed out on the fact that your kid is doing drugs. I know how that goes.”
“So, she died of a heroin overdose too?” I asked as Ethan logged into his Facebook account.
“That’s what my mom heard and that they found Vanessa in her bedroom in her parent’s house, but there’s more. I think Vanessa emailed me probably within an hour or two of her death, getting back to me about that email I sent her about Liz,” Ethan pulled up his Facebook inbox and sure enough there was an email from Vanessa sent Saturday at 5:12 pm.
He clicked on the link and we sat there in silence as I read the last email Vanessa Martin had probably ever sent:
Ethan –
Yes, I was friends with Liz. We had a Biology class together. I’m really sorry about her. That email was only really meant for her. I just wanted to talk to her about the guy she was dating. Forget about it. It’s not important now.
-Vanessa
“It’s not important because Liz is dead anyway?” I thought out loud.
“Doesn’t sound like someone who ODed on heroin an hour or two later, do
es it?” Ethan was still staring at the words in front of them.
“Do you think she’s talking about Troy Matthews?” I asked.
“Definitely,” Ethan nodded.
“Who is she friends with?” I asked looking more closely at Vanessa’s profile.
Ethan scrolled through Vanessa’s friends. Troy was not among them, but neither was Melissa, Olivia, or Liz. That was interesting. Although, maybe not if Vanessa had dated Troy and broke up with him or something. Still, you’d think that maybe she and Liz would have been Facebook friends.
“Weird,” I said. “She’s not friends with any of them or even Liz. At least not Facebook officially.”
“Maybe Vanessa deleted Liz after she died,” Ethan offered, pushing back his chair and sitting to face me.
“Maybe,” I said, even as I made a mental note. Most people used a deceased person’s Facebook page as a way to talk to them and remember them. If my mom had made a Facebook page, I would probably still be writing on it.
Ethan was looking at me contemplatively. From where I was sitting on the bed, our knees were almost touching. The dim glow of the computer and the desk lamp cast a light shadow on Ethan’s face. His chin had some stubble on it. He hadn’t shaved after his shower.
Ethan’s blue eyes met mine, “I changed my mind. If the police don’t want to investigate Liz’s murder, I do. I think Troy Matthews is our number one lead. All the dead girls knew him. Maybe they were all dating him. Maybe that’s his motive. Some sick and twisted love thing – like an I’m the only one who can have these girls or they die kind of thing.”
I nodded. Troy Matthews definitely needed to be investigated.
Ethan continued and took my hands in his, “I understand if you don’t want to get involved. You’ve been amazing so far, actually…”
I was too busy feeling what it felt like to have Ethan hold my hand, to completely focus on what he was saying. His hands felt smooth and warm enveloping mine. The butterflies were going insane in my stomach. I pulled my hands out of his, needing to focus on what he was actually saying. I’m sure I’d regret it later. I should have just enjoyed it while I had the chance. I don’t know why I kept letting my mind get in the way of my hormones.
