Some of the classroom doors are open and I catch snippets of lectures as I walk down the hall. “…the vena cava carries blood back….” “the Jacksonian democrats believed…” “the programming sequence here…”
Being here not only reminds me of my own college days, but also of the rare happy childhood memories I have of time spent with my dad. Sometimes he would take me with him to Rutgers and I would sit in the back of his classroom and listen to him lecture, so proud that the man in the front of the room that all the students seemed in awe of was my dad.
I follow the room numbers searching for number 241. In the rooms I can see into, students sit in a variety of poses—some leaning forward, alert, engaged; others sprawled back, eyes at half-mast. Many are hunched over their phones, a couple are clearly dozing. I pick up my pace, eager to see what Ty’s class will be like. Then I slow down—I can’t very well stand outside his classroom door grinning and waving. I cross to the far side of the hall and stroll up to a bulletin board promoting summer internships, then casually glance back over my shoulder. Immediately I spot Ty’s long legs and huge basketball shoes stretched into the aisle between desks. He’s sitting in the second row—not right under the teacher’s nose, but not hiding with the slackers in the back corner either.
The professor is pacing up and down talking about the importance of using vivid language. “Don’t describe everything as ‘awesome’ or ‘amazing’. My sandwich is awesome, my new shoes are awesome, the Grand Canyon is awesome, God is awesome. If everything is awesome, then nothing is awesome.”
I chuckle because Ty always mocked Jill’s ten times a day squeal of “awesome.” To which she responded with a skewer of his overuse of “chill.”
“So before you hand in your essays, I want you to look for the overused words, the non-specific generic words, the meaningless words.”
A collective groan goes up. No one in the class seems to have noticed me lurking so I grow bolder and take a step closer. Now I can see Ty with his lips pursed and his shoulders hunched as he goes over his paper. Occasionally he erases vigorously and puts in a new word. The scrawny kid next to him taps his pen and gazes up at the fluorescent lights.
“Judah? Are you revising?” the professor asks.
The scrawny kid twitches. “Huh? I found the awesomes. I had two.”
“Did you change them?”
“Change them?”
The kid has the kind of look on his face that I get when I’m on the line with the computer tech support rep somewhere in India.
The professor comes over and speaks quietly to the kid. When she’s done, Ty shows her his paper. She reads, smiling slightly. “Very vivid. I can picture it.”
My heart swells. You go, Ty.
She hands the paper back. “There’s a grammar error in the second sentence. See if you can find it. Pronoun usage. We talked about that last week.”
Rats!
But Ty accepts the paper with a good-natured shake of his head and squints at it, looking for the offending word. I fight a strong urge to rush in and fix it for him.
The professor works her way to the back of the room, disappearing from my field of vision. Now the scrawny confused kid’s phone goes off with a loud blast of Aerosmith.
“Judah! Turn off your phone and put it away.” The professor’s voice, kind up to now, has a sharp edge.
“I gotta take this. It’s important.”
“You’re disturbing the class.”
Judah jumps up, clutching his phone to his ear. The slack boredom has departed from his face, replaced by a tense alertness. “Wait. I can’t talk.”
He knocks over his chair and nearly falls on his face clambering over Ty’s legs in his haste to get out of the classroom. Now he’s out in the hall, just a few feet from me, but he doesn’t even notice I’m there.
The professor closes the classroom door firmly behind him, with a warning. “Don’t come back in. I’ve had enough of your nonsense.”
But the kid is oblivious to her anger.
“You said you’d cover for me,” he shouts into his phone as he lopes down the hall. “You can’t walk out now.”
Ty’s face lights up when he sees me sitting on a bench in the hall. “Yo, Audge.”
I rise and we stroll out of the building together. “Thanks for coming all the way out here,” Ty says without making eye contact.
I want to ask him what’s going on with his sister, but this crowded hallway isn’t the place. “No biggie. How was your test?”
“I think I did good…I mean well. Anyway, it was identifying slides in Art and I got most of them right.” He gives his head a little shake. “I can’t believe Adrienne gave me a ride. I didn’t even ask. She offered.”
“Yeah, she surprised me too. Maybe we should give her a little more credit for being nice.”
Ty elbows me. “You and me the suspicious types.”
“Yeah. Jill’s the one who always sees the best in everyone.”
“I miss her. Never thought I’d say that.” Ty holds the door open for me and we head out to the parking lot.
“So how was English class? I overheard part of it before your professor closed the door. Sounds like she liked your paper.”
Ty straightens his shoulders. “It’s gettin’ better. She says I have good organization and good description. Just gotta work on my grammar. I passed the first test, though. Buncha people failed.”
“Like that kid who came charging out of the class on his phone? What was that all about?”
“Oh, him. He’s always pissin’ the teacher off. Keeps using his phone. Never knows what’s going on. That’s why I hate being in the dumbass class. If he don’t wanna be in school, why’d he sign up?”
“Doesn’t.”
“Huh?”
“If he doesn’t want to be in school.”
“You know what I mean.”
“You told me to correct you.” We’ve reached the car and I pop the locks.
“Yeah, well, not now.” Ty stretches out in the passenger seat and shuts his eyes. “I’ve had enough ‘a school for one day.”
We ride in silence for a while, but then Ty perks up and we talk over plans for the small sale that Ty is handling. When we reach the outskirts of Palmyrton, I move to put my turn signal on to turn toward Ty’s house. “Home?”
He shakes his head. “Train station.”
I think I know what that means. The last I heard, Ty’s sister was living in Newark. He’s going there to look for his car. I picture his prized black Nissan Sentra stripped in an alley somewhere in the West Ward. I’m worried. I want him to tell me what’s going on, but he volunteers nothing. Something about the set of his jaw warns me not to ask.
I pull up in front of the station.
Ty turns to me. “Thanks, Audge. See you in the morning.”
I look into his brown eyes. “Be careful.”
His eyes narrow. “Yeah. A’ight.”
When I get back to the office, there’s a message on my voicemail from the loan officer at the bank. We’ve been approved for the lowest rate.
I call Sean with the news and he tells me to call Isabelle and make the offer.
My heart is pounding. This is it. I’m buying a house with my boyfriend.
My fiancé.
A house that’s big enough for Coughlin extended family get-togethers.
And kids.
My hand trembles as I dial.
“Hi, Isabelle. We’re ready to make an offer.”
“Too late, darling. The owners just accepted an offer for five thousand over the asking price. I told you that place wouldn’t last.”
Chapter 12
I feel as if my diamond engagement ring just bounced down a storm sewer grate.
Gone.
The perfect house has slipped through our fingers. What will Sean say?
Of course he’ll blame me. He should.
The loan officer said we had no problem qualifying for that rate.
I sh
ouldn’t have been so cautious. I should have followed my heart.
Followed Sean’s heart. The problem is, I think I was following my heart. The heart that’s scared to death. The heart that’s not ready for the future that lies ahead.
The heart that’s maybe just a tiny bit relieved. Like the way I felt when I didn’t get into Princeton.
So I went to UVA. And it was great. Life goes on. We’ll find a different house.
Sean will see it that way too.
I hope.
Back at my condo I bury my head in Ethel’s furry neck. “Oh, Ethel, I’ve screwed up. Remember that nice backyard that you loved so much? I let someone else snatch it right out from under us.”
She squirms away from me and whimpers.
“Are you that disappointed? Do you hate condo living after all these years?”
She turns tail and returns with her leash in her mouth.
“Let’s walk over to the phone store. They let little fluffy designer dogs in there. They’d better let you in too.”
Ethel marches down the sidewalk with her curved tail held high. When we reach the phone store, the gatekeeper asks me if Ethel is a therapy dog.
“She helps me cope with depression,” I answer quite truthfully, and we’re in. Ethel sits regally by my side as I make my purchase, haughtily ignoring a yapping Pomeranian peeking out of some chick’s oversized purse.
“You were impressive in there, Ethel. Next stop: Westminster Kennel Club,” I tell her as we exit the store. No sooner are those words out of my mouth than Ethel begins pulling at her leash and barking frantically. Is there a squirrel or a pigeon nearby? I see no signs of wildlife, but Ethel tears down the sidewalk pulling me after her, oblivious to the wellbeing of old ladies, toddlers, and the handicapped. What in the world is she after?
We reach the corner just after the light turns green. Ahead of us in the crosswalk I spot a familiar slouchy hat. Could it be? No—what would she be doing in Palmyrton in the middle of the week? Ethel pulls harder. My God—the dog is right. I’d know that pink and purple Peruvian sweater anywhere.
“Jill! Jill!”
She steps onto the opposite curb and spins around. Her face lights up when she sees Ethel, then shuts down when she sees me.
I reach her side and Ethel flings herself at Jill, licking her face and nearly knocking her down.
“What are you doing here?” I ask. “Didn’t you have classes today? And more tomorrow?”
“I, uhm, came out to visit my mom.”
“Then shouldn’t you be at her house?”
“Yeah, she’s going to…like…pick me up. Later. Soon.” Jill’s eyes dart back and forth. Then she drops to her knees and starts baby-talking Ethel.
I address the top of her head. “Jill, why are you out here? Is it something to do with Amber’s death?”
She looks up at me, her eyes as wide as a kid in line to see Santa. “I wanted to talk to the baristas at Caffeine Planet to see what they knew about Amber. Oh, Audrey—she was in deep. She wasn’t the girl I used to know.”
“C’mon. Let’s get a drink. With Ethel along, we’ll have to sit outside. Then I’m putting you on the train back to NYU.”
Hunkered down at a sidewalk table at City Lights nursing our craft beers, Jill tells me everything she’s learned from the baristas at the Planet.
“You know that girl Caitlyn who works there?” Jill asks.
“She designs jewelry. Comes to our sales sometimes.”
“That’s the one. She’s mad about Amber. She said Amber wasn’t the innocent victim that her mother wants everyone to believe she was.”
I raise my eyebrows. “How so?”
“Caitlyn told me she’d been covering for Amber the whole time she worked there.” Jill lowers her voice. “Amber sold Addies.”
Jill sees the blank look on my face and explains. “Adderall. It’s what kids take for attention deficit disorder. Except Amber just didn’t give a damn about school. No pill cures that. So she sold her Addies to kids who were cramming for tests or wanted to ace the SATs.”
“How does Caitlyn know about that?”
“Because when Amber was working there, she gave another barista a sample pill, then sold her more, and the girl freaked out.”
“Is that a medical term?”
“She started shaking and panicking and thought bugs were crawling on her. She ended up missing her final exam altogether.”
“Geez, selling Adderall! I didn’t even know that was a thing. When I was in college, we just drank Red Bull before tests.” I take a sip of my beer. “So why didn’t Caitlyn say anything?”
Jill purses her lips. “The girl who freaked out quit working at Planet, so Caitlyn decided not to get involved. But then things got worse.” Jill leans across the table.
“I told you that Amber told me her doctor wouldn’t give her more pills for her ankle. But according to Caitlyn, Amber bragged about how if she told the doctor her ankle still really hurt, he would keep renewing her pain pills. But her ankle was fine, as far as Caitlyn could tell. She’d work full eight-hour shifts and then go out to raves and dance all night.”
“So she took the pain pills she got from her doctor purely to get stoned. You didn’t need Caitlyn to tell you that.”
Jill’s eyelids start to flutter in the way that always heralds tears. “No. It’s worse than that. Amber sold the pain pills she got from her doctor.”
“How does Caitlyn know that? If Amber was addicted to pills, wouldn’t she keep them for herself, not sell them?”
“Pills are worth more than heroin. Amber sold her pills and made enough money to buy heroin. Lots of heroin, so she could get a bigger rush.”
“Honey, that’s simple economics. Buy low. Sell high.”
Jill’s sweet face lights with anger. “Is that all it is? Remember, in the process of those economics, she got other people addicted.”
Ouch. Who better than Jill to remind me the drug market affects real live human beings. “So who bought her pills?”
“Caitlyn doesn’t know their names. But she said once she came up behind Amber in the back hall of the Planet and saw money changing hands. After that Amber was more careful. Caitlyn would see people pacing back and forth on the sidewalk and Amber would wait for a slow moment and slip outside.”
“Why didn’t Caitlyn say something? Even if she didn’t care about the illegality of what was going on, surely it must’ve been rough to work with a dealer who was also an addict?”
“Yeah. Caitlyn complained to me that Amber was always late for her shifts, and so zoned out and slow when she was there. But she never told her boss.”
“Why not?”
Jill sighs. “Didn’t want anyone to think she was a bitch. Or a snitch. Or a narc.” She bangs her empty beer mug down. “What’s wrong with women my age? God forbid you would speak your mind and do the right thing instead of worrying about whether everyone else thinks you’re nice. If Caitlyn had spoken up, Amber might be alive right now.”
“Alive in jail. I guess Caitlyn wasn’t brave enough to face that possibility.” I squeeze Jill’s hand. “But eventually Amber must’ve quit or got fired. She wasn’t working at the Planet recently.”
“Fired. The owner figured out she was using even though he never realized she was selling.” Jill runs her fingers through her hair. “But Amber’s pill customers kept coming around looking for her. Caitlyn told them to get lost, but she still never said a word to the owner.”
Jill slumps in her chair. “Caitlyn found out Amber was in rehab, so she figured the problem was going to go away. But Amber was only out of rehab for six days before she started using again.”
“I wonder why she went into Caffeine Planet to shoot up?”
“I think she was planning to meet a customer there. I asked Caitlyn about it, and she just shrugged, but she wouldn’t meet my eye. I kept pressing her and finally she said she might have seen someone she recognized as one of Amber’s customers while Amber was being
taken out.”
“But if Amber was in rehab, she couldn’t possibly still be getting pain pills from her doctor. Could she?”
Jill folds and unfolds her cocktail napkin. “One doctor doesn’t know what the other one’s doing. And with all those confidentiality laws, her parents probably didn’t know what the doctors were giving her.” Jill waves for the check. “What time will Sean be home, Audrey? We need to tell him about this. I don’t care if Caitlyn knows that I turned around and told the cops what she told me.”
“I’ll tell him, Jill. Your work here is done. You need to get back to school.”
She nods. “You’re right. I don’t feel guilty about Amber anymore. I can see how she slipped into being an addict. But she chose to be a dealer.”
I hug Jill as we walk out. I’m glad she’s toughening up. She needs to if she’s going to be a successful social worker. Still, it’s a little sad.
My little girl has figured out reindeer don’t fly.
Chapter 13
“What a day!”
Sean drops onto my sofa and stretches out. He reaches his arms out, expecting a hug. I feel terrible. Things are only going to get worse when I tell him about the house. But maybe the information Jill has given me about Amber will mitigate that.
A little.
I perch next to him and take his hands in mine. “I had a bad day too. You go first.”
“There’s been a rash of petty burglaries lately. Bags stolen from unlocked cars and wallets lifted from purses in restaurants and bars. The kind of thing where we’re really not that sympathetic to the victim because people oughta know better, right? This stuff always happens, but there’s been more than usual. Then today, we get a call from patrol, responding to a call in the Devon Park neighborhood.”
This Bitter Treasure: a romantic thriller (Palmyrton Estate Sale Mystery Series Book 3) Page 8
