Literally Dead

by Eryn Scott

  “We had a few questions for you about — the other day,” I said.

  My eyes shifted to Betsy where she sat at the front desk, doing a great job of looking busy. If I knew Betsy, though, the typing she was doing on her computer was more likely a gossipy email to the rest of Pine Crest than something for the inn.

  Stephanie hesitated. Her forehead creased. “I’ve already told the police everything I know.”

  My cheeks flushed. Of course she had. Why would she tell us anything? We were just two college kids and she was the victim’s step-daughter. This was different than asking Katie a few questions in the dining hall.

  I gulped, stepping close. When my dad died, I did a ton of research on the type of heart attack he’d had. I wanted to know everything about what had killed him. If Stephanie felt a similar curiosity, then maybe I could convince her to talk.

  “I think the police are investigating the wrong person,” I whispered in a voice low enough to ensure my words wouldn’t make it into Betsy’s email. Alex, however, was definitely close enough to hear.

  Stephanie’s face tightened and she looked to Alex as if looking for confirmation.

  He sighed, but nodded. “She won’t let it go.”

  Stephanie seemed to think for a second, but then she said, “There’s a lounge next to my room and it seems pretty quiet. Would you guys like to talk there?”

  “That sounds great,” Alex said.

  I grabbed my bag from the couch and Stephanie led the way toward the lounge. It was quiet, four chairs crowded around a gas fireplace and a window looked out on the back gardens. We each took a seat and then the attention turned to me.

  “So…?” Stephanie crossed one slender leg over the other.

  “The police think Fergie did it,” I blurted out.

  Stephanie nodded. “I’d heard that.” She folded her hands in her lap. “I can’t believe it.”

  Leaning forward, I said, “Because it’s not true.” My fingers shook with the need for someone to believe me. I folded them in my lap.

  The woman blinked at my brashness, but then she exhaled and said, “Of course it isn’t. Sharon couldn’t hurt a fly.”

  Hearing Fergie’s first name caught me by surprise. But emboldened by Stephanie’s support of Fergie, I plowed on with my questions.

  “Stephanie, we heard you were with your father when he and professor Evensworth got in a fight that night.”

  The woman swallowed as if slightly nauseated. “Step-father. Davis was my step-father.” The whispered words left her lips and dropped like a heavy tear.

  “Right.” I dipped my head in acknowledgment. “Did you hear what they were fighting about?”

  “Yeah. That stupid book.” Stephanie’s soft voice turned to ice for a second, but then recovered its normal soft British accent. “A literary journal Davis, my step-father, often wrote reviews for asked him to write something up for them about it.”

  “And did Evensworth seem mad enough to do something violent because of the review?” I asked.

  Sighing, Stephanie said, “I’ve been asking myself that same question the last few days.” She shook her head. “I don’t know. He did seem incredibly angry— kept towering over us and trying to corner Davis.”

  That sure sounded like Evilsworth. I inwardly rolled my eyes.

  “What happened after the fight?” Alex asked, his voice sounding so loud compared to Stephanie’s soft tones.

  “Some girl walked into the middle of it and they stopped. Not before Evensworth threatened my step-father, telling him he ‘wouldn’t get away with this.’ Then he stormed away and we went to check out the lecture hall. My step-father was very particular about his microphones and wanted to make sure everything was up to his standards.”

  My muscles tensed as she mentioned the scene of the second fight. “You were there the whole time for that?” I asked. I could feel Alex watching me, no doubt noticing my increased interest. The fight with the sound guy had been the one thing I hadn’t spilled to him about the case yet.

  Stephanie nodded. “Yeah. It got pretty heated, too.”

  I scooted forward. “How did the sound guy seem?”

  “Irrational, really. I mean, I think Davis was still kind of testy from his encounter with Evensworth, but he was only being diligent. The engineer made the fight as big as it got.” Stephanie sat back in her chair and crossed her arms.

  “As big?” I asked, brow furrowing.

  She dipped her chin once. “Yeah, I mean, he has never threatened to get someone sacked before. That guy was looking for a fight, though.”

  I glanced over at Alex. His face was unreadable — probably thanks to his police training. Trying to mirror some of his control, I pulled in a deep breath and nodded.

  “Did you see that man anymore after the sound check?” Alex asked.

  Stephanie shook her head. “No. We split up after that. Davis went to go look over his speech one more time and I went to see the Emily Dickinson art installation on the third floor. She was my mother’s favorite poet. She passed away last year,” she said, looking down at her lap.

  Blinking back tears, I decided I would need more training if I wanted to have an unreadable face like Alex’s. Actually, even Alex seemed to be having a tough time with this one. He cleared his throat and was really focused on a spot on his jeans for a few seconds while he recovered.

  “And how long did you stay at the art exhibit?” His question surprised me when it came, as did the coldness behind his voice.

  Stephanie and I both looked to Alex. His face matched his tone once again and confirmed he was, in fact, recovered from the emotions recently overcoming him and asking the woman for her alibi.

  I bit my bottom lip. Dammit, I was supposed to have done that. How could I have forgotten to check something so simple?

  She blinked, only taken aback for a second before a resigned, almost thankful smile settled over her features. “I was there for about a half hour. There was a lot to see.”

  “Did anyone see you there?” Alex stayed on track.

  “I wasn’t the only one there, if that’s what you mean. Sharon found me on my way back down to the first floor and which is when we ran into Pepper, who… knows the rest.”

  As her statement hit me, I heaved out a sigh. The rest. Sure did. Shivers skittered up and down my arms at the memory of Dr. Campbell’s lifeless eyes staring back at me.

  All at once, this felt like too much. The weight of the last few days crashed down on top of me. I wanted to be home, curled in my bed under multiple blankets — all the blankets. Scanning my memory for anything else we could ask and finding nothing, I stood up.

  “Thanks so much for your help,” I said, smiling weakly.

  Stephanie nodded. “I’m just happy someone’s asking about all of the suspects. I want them to find who did this more than anything.”

  “We’re doing our best.” I waved goodbye as I turned to leave.

  Alex did the same and then followed me to the foyer of the inn. As we walked, that damn hand was back on my body — placed lightly on the small of my back this time. I turned to scowl it away (I really didn’t want to deal with the feelings it brought up right now), but was met with the sweetest look of concern bunching up his face.

  “Are you okay?” he asked, looking me up and down, as if my pain might be physical.

  “Just tired. I think I need to head home.”

  “I’ll walk you.” He reached the foyer before me and opened the front door of the inn, ushering me outside.

  Waving goodnight to Betsy, I stepped through the threshold. “I’m okay. I don’t mind walking by myself.”

  I hated how much of a lie that was. I usually loved long walks alone on campus. But I couldn’t seem to get rid of the vision of Dr. C’s body and the knowledge his killer was still loose in Pine Crest somewhere.

  Thankfully, Alex didn’t pick this moment to start listening to me. He followed as I headed toward my apartment.

  The sky was a
blackish blue, dotted with starry diamonds, and the smell of burning wood sat heavy in the sharp air. People were starting to build fires at night to ward off the frosty temperatures. It would be Halloween in a week. The realization would’ve normally made me bubble with excitement (Pine Crest during Halloween was one of my favorite things), but the murder made this year’s All Hallows Eve seem too real, too eerie. A shiver raced down my back and I hugged my arms around my torso.

  “Still mad at me?” Alex asked after a few moments of silence.

  I puffed out a laugh, my breath forming a cloud in front of my face.

  “No,” I said, finally.

  “Because you think I might be right?” he asked.

  “Not even close, but I will give you that this investigating stuff is a lot harder than it looks.”

  “So you’re going to leave it to the professionals and stop getting involved?” His voice rose slightly, probably hopeful I might actually listen this time.

  I shook my head. “I don’t mind you and your dad thinking Fergie did it, because I know she didn’t. And I’m going to prove it.”

  Alex sighed. “Okay.” After a moment, he added, “But please do me a favor, Pepper.” He stopped on the sidewalk a few blocks from my place.

  “What’s that?” I asked, coming to a stop as well.

  “Give me your phone.” His fingers curled twice as he made a grabbing gesture.

  My hands clutched my bag defensively. “What? Why?”

  “Trust me.” His eyes darkened as he watched me.

  I slipped my phone from the front pocket of my bag. “You gonna put some sort of tracker on it so you know where I am all the time?” I asked as I handed the thing over.

  He shook his head. “No, I’m giving you my number so you can call me the next time you decide to investigate. If you’re going to insist on doing this, you need someone who has some semblance of training by your side.”

  Pursing my lips for a second, I asked, “And why is that?”

  “Because what we did back there was some sort of crash course on what not to do when questioning a witness.” He jabbed a thumb toward the inn. After a second of silence, he handed my phone back and said, “I meant it when I said I didn’t want you to get yourself killed, too. Please let me help you.”

  I pulled in a deep breath as he shoved his hands deep into his pockets. I was about to start walking again when I heard a bark I recognized.

  “Hamburger?” I said, letting my word settle into the darkness around us.

  Alex stared at me like my brain might be broken. “What? Are you hungry?” His thick eyebrows furrowed together.

  I laughed, shook my head, and was about to explain when that bark sounded again. This time it was followed by the clickclickclick of little nails on concrete. Around the corner, my dog come into view, all smiles and lolling tongue. My heart felt light and happy for the first time that night. Her happy little scrunched face was just what I needed after a depressing evening trying (and failing) to catch a murderer.

  Hammy’s purple leash was pulled taut and Liv rounded the corner a few steps after her, looking slightly flustered.

  My grin widened. “Hamburger! Liv! Hey! What are you two doing here?”

  Liv swiped a hand across her forehead, seemingly grateful for the break. “Oh, you know, letting a fifteen pound dog yank me around, for fun. Like you do.”

  She looked like she was about to make another cut about Hammy’s lack of leash etiquette, but her blue eyes settled on Alex. Standing up straight and shooting him her brightest, all-teeth, business lady, let’s-close-this-deal smile, Liv extended her non-leash-holding hand.

  “Hello, I’m Liv — this one’s roommate.” She jerked her head in my direction.

  “Alex.” He took her hand and shook it, but then turned back to me. “I’m sorry — Pepper, did you name your dog Hamburger?”

  Liv bit back a laugh, pressing her lips together.

  “My niece did, technically,” I said.

  He nodded.

  “But we call her Hammy,” I said.

  “Or Hamdog,” Liv added.

  “Hamburguesa.” I shrugged, adding in Fergie’s Spanish version. Liv raised an eyebrow in approval.

  Alex laughed. “Alright.” He knelt down to pet Hammy with both hands, scratching around her neck and ears (her favorite). “Hello there, Hamburguesa.”

  His tongue easily curled around the Spanish word, reminding me the guy was Latin, maybe even a fluent Spanish speaker. The cute little nickname he’d called me earlier wafted back into my mind and I wondered yet again what it meant. Now, however, with Liv looking at us like she wanted to mash our faces together like Barbie and Ken dolls to make us kiss, was decidedly not the time to inquire about that.

  I picked at a hangnail. “I can walk with Liv the rest of the way home. Thanks for the company.”

  Scratching Hammy on the top of her head one last time, he stood up and nodded.

  “Anytime.” After this word his gaze grabbed onto mine and he leaned slightly closer to me, saying, “I mean that.” His serious, taut face turned toward Liv and a wide smile spread across it. “Nice to meet you, Liv.”

  “Yeah,” she breathed out the word, obviously flustered, and I was glad to see I wasn’t the only one affected by his smooth smile.

  As soon as he turned his back to us, holding a hand up in a goodbye, Liv latched onto my arm.

  “What was that last bit all about, huh? Asking you out?” She waggled her eyebrows and shoved me twice with her elbow.

  Scoffing, I shook my head and took Hammy’s leash from her. “Oh, ye of great misunderstanding. What you mistook as asking me out was, in actuality, a poorly veiled attempt to threaten me into letting him tag along if I do anymore investigating.”

  Liv’s shoulders sank and her eyelids drooped as she swooned. “Awe. Cute. He’s worried about you, Peps.”

  “Please.” I turned for home. “He only wants to follow me so he can meet his daily quota of snarky comments and feed his ever-expanding ego.” Hammy trotted along next to me and I could hear Liv’s footsteps close behind.

  “Okay. Whatever you say.” Liv caught up to me and threaded her arm through mine, falling in step. I exhaled relief as her words signaled an end to the onslaught of teasing. But a heaviness remained in my chest.

  I hadn’t missed the high, sing-song lilt to Liv’s “Okay” and I knew she thought I was fooling myself. Which was fine. Liv had a lot of opinions about what I did and I rarely listened to her (mostly because she usually suggested ridiculous things like “you should visit the gym once in a while” and “not spend all day reading”… yeah, right).

  As we walked, the heaviness kept pressing down on my lungs, though, making it feel like I’d sucked in more air than I could properly utilize. Was I feeling that way because I knew she was right about Alex?

  Or did I hope she was?

  I wasn’t sure which was worse.

  14

  Liv skipped and let out a little squeal of delight the next evening as we exited campus and crossed the street toward downtown. We were heading to my sister, Maggie’s house for dinner and were both way too excited for a home cooked meal we didn’t have to work for — correction: Liv didn’t have to work for — I would probably still get stuck on dish duty.

  The air had a bite to it, but the sun was shining. Besides the odd shiver here and there, it was delightful outside. Maggie lived about a half mile from campus, so we ignored her offer to come pick us up, opting to walk instead.

  I wanted to bring dessert and we swung by Bittersweet to pick something up on our way over. The doughy scents swirling from the open doors enticed me like an anthropomorphic mist, forming a hand and hooking its fingers into my nostrils to pull me closer.

  Pine Crest residents always joked about being too small of a town to have a separate coffee shop and bakery. But behind this teasing was a deep-seated pride for our town’s gem of a one-stop-shop when it came to caffeine, sugar, flour, and butter. There was
even a book-sharing shelf with a great rotating selection for those times when our local bookstore, Simon’s Books, happened to be closed (or you were mostly broke, like me).

  As we entered, I experienced a dichotomous roller coaster of reactions. Soaring high on the just-about-heavenly smells, my stomach simultaneously twisted as my metaphorical coaster took a nose dive at the sight of Newt behind the counter. Ugh. I had forgotten how he was technically on my list of suspects for this murder until now.

  “Evening, ladies,” he crooned. The way he said ladies, all drawn out and like seventy percent “sssssss” made me hate the word.

  My eyes landed on a sign by the register which said, “Under new ownership.” I wondered how the baker, Char, was doing with the recent change from good-natured Kathy to creepy Newt.

  “Hey Nate,” Liv chirped. An amused grin pulled wide across her face. She practically skipped up to the counter.

  Having grown up in Seattle, where she didn’t even know her neighbors and saw new people everyday, Liv was still engrossed in the novelty of small town living. She loved how we all knew each other, had since before we could gossip. Mostly, I think she appreciated out-of-the-ordinary people — and Pine Crest had an abundance of those. To her, Nate Newton was interesting and eclectic, far from the slithery, Naked Newt the rest of us saw in him.

  “Olivia.” He tipped his head in her direction, pursing his lips even more. “Pepper.” His dark eyes roamed over me, leaving my skin shivery and clammy everywhere they settled. “What can I do for you this fine evening?”

  Liv scrunched her shoulders up excitedly. “We’re here to buy a pie. What kinds do you have?” She peeked over at me, barely suppressing a squeal of delight. Liv loved his gruesome descriptions.

  “Ah… well, the cherry is particularly delicious today. Charlotte really outdid herself. The filling has a lovely sanguine color to it.”

  I wrinkled my nose.

  “Or the apple lattice crumble,” he continued. “Supple bodies of dough, delightfully dismembered, laid to rest in pleasing pattern, and a toasty brown.” He made an “mmmmm” face, smacking his lips together and letting his eyelids slide half-closed.

  I gagged a little. Liv beamed; she was having too much fun with this.