Lala Thankyou_Dark Homecoming

by Erica Gerald Mason

  "That was the most fun I've had since…umm…." I trailed off at the end. I couldn't think of the last time I allowed myself to be silly. It was too sad to reflect about during such a fun time.

  "Remember when we had fun like this every day? Before you left town to be a big shot?" Olivia said, poking me in the ribs a little with her elbow.

  "Yeah."

  We began the walk back to our bikes, quiet after such a long day of exercise. The sun was just setting, and we ambled along with other visitors as they left the museum. I looked over my shoulder after every few steps, trying to stay as lowkey as possible. I thought I was subtle, but Olivia noticed.

  "You still do that?" She asked.

  "Do what?"

  "You keep looking over your shoulder. Like you’re expecting someone to come after you."

  "I’m not expecting, Olivia. I’m just...preparing for it. I’m fine, though. Really." I said. And it was fine. Show me someone who got jumped, and I’ll show you someone who looks over their shoulder every now and again.

  "It’s OK Laz!" Olivia said with a laugh, grabbing me and hugging me. "I'll protect you from the big bad wolf. Don't worry your pretty little head about it."

  "Thanks for being my bodyguard." I said, hugging her back.

  We unlocked our bikes and pedaled toward Olivia’s brownstone.

  "I miss you, you know." Olivia said, her eyes on the road ahead.

  "I’ve missed you too." I mumbled in response. We pedaled in silence for awhile.

  She was right though, I missed her. When I was with my friend, I felt...understood. Being around Olivia made me feel brave; I’d felt stronger ever since I saw her. Before this week I thought I didn’t have any friends. But Olivia reminded me I had people in my life who cared about me. It made me want to stand up for myself. To fight for the way of life I had worked so hard for.

  “Hey Olivia?”

  “Yeah?”

  “What time is it?”

  She took her phone out of her pocket and glanced at the screen.

  “Almost five.”

  The killer wanted to meet at 7 o'clock at Valentine Hall in Bloomington. It took an hour to get there. I knew we’d have to leave soon if we would make it in time. I didn’t know how to convince Olivia to take me there. I hadn't even told her about the second call yet, I didn’t want to spoil the mood when we were having so much fun. I figured I’d ask; the worst she could say was no.

  "Ahem. Um. Olivia? Two things. I have something to tell you and something to ask you." I said.

  “Yeah? What?”

  "Why the hell didn’t you mention this earlier?" Ollie said as she sped down Highway 37 from Indianapolis to Bloomington. I didn’t have an answer for her, so I shrugged. We made it to the college, parked off campus and made our way into the old building. We waited around the lobby for a few minutes, and finding no one, peeking into the empty classrooms.

  “I can’t believe you took one stupid bike ride and you forgot about this meeting,” Olivia whispered.

  “Uh? Ollie? I had a good day and all, and it took my mind off of the investigation... I didn’t forget that I was still being framed for MURDER.”

  “OK. OK. I get it. I just hope we don’t get killed in here.”

  I wasn't worried. I didn't think he would kill us. If he wanted to, he would have done it already. Maybe he wanted to talk; maybe he wanted to implicate me in the murder. Maybe he requested to learn how to put on eyeliner...I didn’t know.

  I had a list of questions to ask the guy. How did he know about my plans? Why did he walk into our trap yesterday if he knew we were there? Why meet at the school and not somewhere else? I slicked on another coat of lip balm, closed my eyes, and I paced around the room.

  I needed to see at the case in a different way. I kept going in circles trying to make all the pieces fit together. I considered at each piece of information and make sure everything made sense on its own.

  First was the crime scene: the hotel room. Not the best location to murder Stern, but not the worst. If the murderer had more time to organize, he might have chosen a better place to kill Stern. One where the hotel employees didn’t give me an alibi.

  Then there was the Stern himself. The only person in Indianapolis that I had a reason to kill. Did Stern know the murderer? He must have? Or maybe he realized the murderer knew me?

  And then everything made sense. I’d seen the evidence there all along. Only, I didn’t want to believe it. It explained why the killer walked into my trap and gave us the fax of the security camera footage that proved my innocence. It explained how he knew my every move. It explained what he planned to do tonight at the deserted building, and why he wanted me to show up without the police.

  I was wrong. The killer wasn’t a ‘he’. The killer was a ‘she’.

  The murderer was my friend, Olivia Hammond.

  7

  I shook my head, trying to rattle the truth out of my brain. I didn't want to believe it. I turned over the facts in my head a hundred times and it came out the same every time. She was with me the whole time. And boom-the sense of confidence I’d felt for the past few hours left me, crawling right back into the dark corner of my brain where it had been hiding.

  I realized I had to turn her in, but first I had to get out of the building alive. My brain raced so quickly, I couldn't come up with a plan. I knew I couldn’t just walk out of the building and walk back to the car. She’d realize something was off. Even if I made up an excuse, could I convince Olivia? A person who knew me more than anyone? And she would look right through any plan I thought of.

  I knew I wouldn’t survive if I went back to the old Lazarus. The Lazarus that was afraid to defend himself against a bully. The Lazarus who was too scared to talk to strangers. I had to be the chin high, tits even higher person that stood up for themself. I had to be Lala.

  What would the Lala do? She wouldn't walk away from conflict. She wouldn't second guess every decision she ever made over and over in her head a million times. She’d say what she thought, and she wouldn't be so afraid of failure or rejection. I needed to become Lala if I wanted to walk out of there.

  I closed my eyes and tried to imagine what it would be like to be Lala. Not just onstage. All the time.

  The lobby became my catwalk and I strutted through the building looking for Olivia. I was invincible, I was furious; I was ready.

  "Laz?" Ollie called out from the stairwell, taking me out of my thoughts. I had the beginnings of a plan, but I needed time to put it in motion. I had to talk to Olivia until it was time to make my move.

  I took a deep breath. Held it. Let it out.

  My name is Lala and I’ve come home. I’m not afraid. Not anymore.

  "Yeah?" I answered.

  "You’re acting weird. What’s going on?"

  "It's the whole case. I’m freaking out a little bit." I made my way to the stairwell, staying close to the door.

  “I need to go everything again. A few things that make little sense." I said, walking up the stairs. “The crime scene. I feel like I’m missing something. Can you think of anything?"

  "No, not really," Olivia answered.

  "Why’d the killer shoot Stern in a hotel room in the middle of the afternoon? That seems reckless. What if someone had seen him? Why not go somewhere else? Like...here?"

  "Ummm...maybe he wanted to make sure someone found Stern? He wanted to frame you. Maybe he needed to be sure the cops would come. It could be several reasons."

  I walked up a few more stairs, pretending like I was still trying to figure out the murder. I already knew everything I would mention, but I didn’t want Olivia to know that. It was like a makeover...I’d applied the new makeup, but still needed to dab on the finishing powder. We were almost done.

  "But the gun?" I asked, talking about my gun. The gun I hadn’t seen in years, but was found at the crime scene.

  "He used your gun, duh," Olivia answered.

  "But did he know I’d lost my gun? How did he get it?
" I asked.

  "I don’t know, dummy. I guess we'll never know." She replied.

  "Yeah. I don’t get it, either. But what about the crime scene itself, my hotel room?" I asked.

  "So? He found out where you were staying, it couldn't have been that hard. You’re somewhat of a celebrity remember?”

  "But why the hotel room? Why not the parking garage? Why not...here?"

  "Because the hotel room was yours, I guess. Anywhere else and you add about a hundred other suspects."

  "He could've just left my gun near the body. Killing Stern in my hotel room crime scene helped me." I said, taking another step up.

  "Yeah, you got lucky."

  "Emmmm...no...I think it was more than just lucky. The killer was in a hurry. If he had a more time, I think he would've done a much better job. He could have chosen a better place, he could have even made sure I didn’t have an alibi. And here’s the problem: no one knew I was coming to Indianapolis. I only knew one day before I got here. Only my manager and the public relations person from the show knew."

  I scratched my head and scrunched my face as if I was still trying to go over the evidence.

  "Ok. So maybe they told someone. Give me their information. I’ll give it to Dannon; he’ll call them," Olivia said, flipping her hair over her shoulder as she backed up a few feet.

  "I guess, but they’re based in New York and Los Angeles," I continued, "They don’t give out hotel information. They’re kinda uptight about that."

  I was still holding on to one piece of information about the murder. One detail I needed to share with Olivia. I had stalled as much as I could, it was time to bring it home.

  "I think you’ve got a lot of good questions there," Olivia said, "Actually, Laz, I wanted to tell you somethin—"

  "Stern." I interrupted, taking the last steps two at a time until I stood next to her.

  "Stern?" Olivia asked, confused. “What about him?”

  "Yeah, I’ve been thinking about Stern."

  I stopped moving and stood still, my eyes not leaving Olivia’s face. I placed my hands on my hips and waited for her to speak. I didn’t have to wait long.

  "Anyone could have murdered Stern, Laz."

  "No. But only the killer knew what Stern had done," I stepped a little closer to Olivia. "The paper never printed out names. Us both being minors and all. He knew. Or maybe I should say 'she knew'."

  Boom.

  "Lazarus. Really. You think I killed Stern?" Olivia asked almost laughing at the idea, "We saw seen the killer before, remember? I was there, you were there. It wasn’t me."

  That little detail bothered me from the beginning. And then, I knew. I understood.

  "He had to have been one of your parole clients. I'm guessing the one who came to your house. It was easy to find someone willing to do a favor for their parole officer. He didn’t even have to pull the trigger. He took a walk down the street and go to the library.”

  "The night of the murder, he hit in the parking garage, while you waited in the hotel room to kill Stern at just the perfect time. When I walked up into my room, he was already waiting across the street to call me on the hotel phone.

  "The next day, we tried to set a trap, and he ever so conveniently could step into it and hop right out. Oh and he that security photo from the hotel lobby that made us to think he hacked into the security system.

  "I couldn't figure out why he would walk into a trap like that. But you needed to make it seem like he was smarter than all of us. And also make it seem like he knew when he should kill Stern. You thought the picture made it prove I had a helperl."

  I backed away from Olivia and smiled. I felt stronger than ever.

  "This is crazy. You’ve cracked from the pressure. Where’s your proof?" Olivia said after a moment.

  "You have the proof, Olivia. The security photo will prove it. I remember every detail of the picture. Facing the lobby, with all those damn ferns, and then me in a chair. How much do you want to bet that when the cops go to hotel, they’ll find that that a security camera doesn't exist? At least from that angle?"

  I wasn’t sure about the camera angle, but I wanted to call Olivia’s bluff. The picture was at a bad angle to notice anything other than the ferns. Olivia had taken that photo with her cell phone camera. That’s where she’d made a mistake. If she gone to a corner and taken a picture where the real security cameras were, then maybe we never would've caught the mistake. But then she couldn’t have stood on a chair and taken a photo like that with no one seeing her.

  “And the quarters,” I continued. “The murderer wore a pair of bright blue pair of penny loafers with two quarters in the slots. I’m guessing you donated the shoes, but you took the money out before you dropped them off. And I’m willing to bet those same quarters have your fingerprints on them. And those same quarters are safe and sound in the brand new police station vending machine.”

  “That doesn’t make sense,” Olivia said. “It’s not a crime to buy Cheetos.”

  “No, of course not,” I answered. “Cheetos are amazing. But there’s a pretty good chance that when you shot Stern, blood splattered onto your shoes. And on those quarters. All we have to do is empty the vending machine and check the change.”

  Olivia’s shoulders stiffened.

  "We were best friends in college weren’t we?" Olivia asked, her expression softening as if someone had taken an eraser and smoothed the worry lines away. "From the moment you did your first makeover, I knew you wouldn’t stay in Bloomington. The first time you performed in a drag show, I knew you couldn’t stay in Indiana."

  I backed against the wall as Olivia spoke. I knew the truth would come out if either one of us felt backed into a corner. I was in the corner on a stairwell, but Olivia’s whole life was in a corner. I figured it out; I knew who killed Stern. I understood the who, what where and how, but I still didn't know the why.

  "I knew you would be a star and leave everything behind, Las. I always knew," Olivia continued, inching closer to me as she spoke.

  "Then you quit school, stuck me with an apartment I couldn’t afford and took off. You left boxes of stuff for me to get rid of," she continued, "I never thought you’d leave me behind, too. I lost my best friend."

  Her morphed from calm to sadness to something like...rage. She clenched and unclenched her fists as turned away from me, she seemed embarrassed to have me see her so emotional. I didn't understand. We argued a little when I left town, but by the time I got on the bus we were fine. We said goodbye and distance pulled us apart; but we weren’t enemies...were we? I meant to catch up with her a million times-send her an email or find her on social media-but life kept me busy. I didn’t understand why she was so hurt by me leaving Indiana so long ago?

  “I don’t get it, Olivia. Why’d you do it?” I asked her.

  “You took my freedom with you! When you left, I couldn't’ afford the place on my own. I could either afford an apartment or a car, but not both. So I sold my car. That bought me a few months. But then the restaurant I worked at had a fire and they closed up shop for three months to repair the damage. I had to move back home. I and lived too far from campus to walk or take a bus, so I had to drop out of school. It took two years of working overtime at every shitty job I could find, but I finished my degree online. All my old friends got together and went on fancy trips or at at cute little restaurants- but not me. I walked four miles in each direction to wash at the Waffle Barn. You know how I got my job at the parole office? I didn’t have interview clothes, so I broke into all of the thrift store donation boxes in the neighborhood and went through all the clothes. A dress from the box on Meridian Street, a scarf from the box on 25th Street. I kept going until I had a freakin’ outfit, Laz. And I got the job! Me! Little Olivia got the job. And I met Dannon, and I was getting the life I deserved. And then I saw you on television, Laz. Or should I say, Lala. You looked so beautiful...you did. Seeing you reminded me of what I should have had. I should have graduated earlier. I should
have stayed in that apartment. You should have stayed, Lala. Or you could have brought me with you. You could have asked if I wanted to go.”

  So this was my fault. My best friend needed me and I left her. I destroyed our friendship and wrecked her life...and for what? A little bit of fame? A little bit of stardust? I'd always thought I’d be left alone, but it turns out I was the one doing the leaving.

  "I was at the mall checking on a client when I saw your face on the poster for your event. And ou texted me to see if I wanted to get together while you were in town. I knew we would meet on this trip. I even still had your gun in one of your old boxes. It was luck, that’s all. In the beginning, it didn't work quite the way I planned it, but I made sure the end was foolproof," Olivia continued.

  “The end?” I asked. “I don’t get it.”

  "Don’t worry, Laz...this is where you’ll get it. This is when you die. It's be the saddest story you ever heard. The killer lured the two of us here. He shot you, then ran after me. He shot me in the leg...or maybe the arm...I haven’t decided that yet. He got away, of course. I crawled to you and your last words will be ‘I’ve gone home’. Poetic, beautiful, and true. Dannon will be angry that I got tangled up in all of this, but he’ll get over it. It’s awful hard to stay mad at a victim of a gunshot wound. Especially after she lost her best friend," Olivia took a gun out of her handbag as her mouth twisted into a crooked smile. She raised the gun.

  “Wait!” I yelled, holding my hands up.

  Olivia paused and smirked.

  “Nothing you say will change anything, Las. This is done. You’re already dead.”

  I couldn't think of anything to add. My mind raced as random phrases flew through my head. My mouth stayed open, yet locked in place and my lips wouldn't move. Olivia held the gun higher as she tiny giggled escaped from her throat. There was small part of me that was ready for her to kill me. A part of me that was ready to die.

  "You won’t leave me behind a second time."

  I placed my hands down. If my life was about to end, I would not spend my last few moments begging. I tilted my chin up higher and closed my eyes. I heard the squeak of footsteps on tile and it brought me back to that day in high school. The noise got louder and I wondered if I was already dead...if this what death was, reliving your worst moment as your life slipped away. I could hear my heart beating in my ears as the squeaks became closer and closer until-