Sisterhood is Deadly: A Sorority Sisters Mystery

by Lindsay Emory

  Even knowing the lengths she had gone to, my heart ached for the girl she once was. The girl from West Virginia desperate to fit in at the preppy college.

  “It was easy, too easy. I thought I could handle the rumor mill. Liza would keep the cash flowing. The business grew in leaps and bounds until a man screwed it all up.”

  “Dean Xavier.”

  Amanda nodded. “We’d been seeing each other on and off for the past year. I wasn’t into his teenager thing, so I suggested he call this phone-­sex line. Might as well make some money off your boyfriend’s kink, right? That’s when it all started to go wrong.”

  “He put the pieces together.”

  “Liza was embarrassed and started getting all judgmental about it. She said she didn’t feel comfortable using college girls anymore once a professor knew about it, so she quit and said she was going to come out with the truth.”

  “But Dean specifically said that Liza was cut from the program?”

  “He said that because her death gave him the perfect opportunity to rewrite history. Liza’s being cut from the doctoral program because she was a bad-­girl phone-­sex worker sounds much better than the truth: He was obsessed with calling teenagers and telling them to tie themselves up.”

  “And you blackmailed him to get a promotion out of the Panhellenic office.” I filled in the blanks again.

  Amanda looked unrepentant. “Do you know how many crying girls I deal with on a weekly basis?”

  I could guess.

  But I wanted to stay focused, not least because there were about five police officers outside the room who were hanging on my every word.

  “You blackmailed Hunter to break into the office.”

  She shrugged. “I needed the dirt on Dean. Stefanie’s file was proof of his inappropriate relationship with a student, and I knew we had a recording of one of his calls somewhere. Getting Hunter to do it was easier than sneaking in and out of the house again. Especially with you there. When Liza was alive, I’d come in the chapter advisor’s apartment door and wait there to talk.”

  I knew exactly how Amanda had come in and out of the house so easily. Because the house had had the same security code for the past thirty years.

  Talking about Amanda going in and out of the chapter advisor’s apartment and seeing Liza brought to mind pictures of a Botox vial in a medicine cabinet. And the memory of a woman collapsing in front of a chapter of sorority sisters.

  “Why did you have to do it in front of the chapter, Amanda?” The plea in my words was sincere. It wasn’t just the murder that was evil. It was the inexcusable timing. No young person needs to see that.

  As different as this Amanda was now, I saw that my question touched a part of her that I knew and recognized. A little wrinkle appeared between her brows (which would have been a big wrinkle if she hadn’t been injected with a killer virus). “I misjudged the dose,” she finally said. “I never thought she’d walk out of the apartment and into that meeting.” Neither of us said anything for a moment. Then Amanda said, “I did better the second time.”

  Stefanie. The thought made my heart ache.

  “At least I made sure you found her,” Amanda said softly. “I knew you wouldn’t want her to stay out there for long.”

  Tears sprang to my eyes. So that was Amanda’s version of sisterhood. Following the proper etiquette for leaving a body behind. Killing a sister to protect the sisterhood.

  “Why Stefanie?” I asked, surprised by the strength of my emotion. “Why did you have to kill her?” I asked.

  Amanda turned her head slowly. “I didn’t plan it. She and Dean had grown close over the phone. Then they were sleeping together. When I found her at his place, she accused me of doing something to Liza, and I just snapped.”

  There was a shimmer in Amanda’s eyes. “I never meant for it all to happen like this, Margot. I just wanted to protect the things I loved. Like Delta Beta. “

  “And your $3k a night.” I said quietly. Painfully, I acknowledged Amanda’s innate selfishness, which I’d never wanted to see.

  “You would do the same,” Amanda insisted. “I know you would. You always put Delta Beta first. And that’s why I had to stop Liza from telling you about the business. Once you knew, you’d never look up to me again.”

  On that, she was right. I couldn’t look at her anymore. I couldn’t talk to the woman who had, after all, not only committed two murders and attempted a third, but had tried to set me up. Me. Her little sis.

  I found I had to ask the big question—­why had she set me up? Because I’m that kind of girl, who pushes, even when it’s smarter to stop.

  Amanda did look sad and regretful. “You’re my little sis. And you’re such a good Delta Beta. I thought you might take another one for the team.”

  And then I got up and left.

  Chapter Forty-­two

  I PUNCHED THE code on the keypad at the front door of the sorority house. It was the date our sorority was founded. December 16, 1879—­12-­18-­79. For ten years, every time I had entered that number, it was a reminder of the history of the best, most inspirational, strongest sorority ever established. It was a reminder of the 150 years that sisters had stuck together, united in love and loyalty and friendship.

  Until now. Now it was a reminder that one of our own had tried to corrupt us from the inside. Phone sex. Blackmail. Murder.

  I didn’t let Amanda see what she had done to me. Even someone with a big open heart can close it off when pride demands it. But now the full, earthshaking reality of what had happened was sinking in.

  I went to the chapter advisor’s apartment and left the badass black-­leather jacket on the floor. I kicked off the boots and ripped off my Delta Beta tee. I dug a plain gray tank top and a black Juicy hoodie out of my suitcase and put those on instead. Anything with Greek letters was a painful reminder. Even my Busy Bee slippers hurt my heart. I put fuzzy socks on instead, wrapped my arms around a pillow, and let the tears come.

  It would probably sound idiotic to most ­people that my heart was broken by Amanda’s betrayal. She wasn’t a relative; we shared no genes or family. But in my heart, she was still my sister. I talked to her like a sister and held her in my heart as close as any sibling.

  She obviously hadn’t felt the same, and I was devastated. My loss was real, acute, and would stay with me for the rest of my days.

  Minutes or hours later (I wasn’t sure how much time had passed, at that point), there was a soft knock at my door. I ignored it, knowing I was in no shape to advise or console or admonish anyone. I was no chapter advisor today.

  The door opened anyway, and in walked Casey, then Aubrey, then Callie, Asha, Cheyenne, Jane, and more faces that I had to come to know and love over the past ten days.

  Aubrey sat on my bedside, her beautiful face creased with concern. “Casey came back and told us what happened. What can we do for you?”

  My face crumpled again. I had let them all down. I was supposed to be helping them. I couldn’t be the one who needed help. I was the worst chapter advisor ever. “I’m sorry,” I sobbed to the women who were in my charge. “I should have known what she was doing.”

  “Even the police didn’t know,” Casey said as he crawled onto the bed next to me. “Why should you have known?”

  Because I was the one in charge. “Because she was my big sis,” I said.

  “So?” Aubrey and Casey said in unison.

  “I feel like …”

  “She dumped you,” Casey suggested.

  “She cheated on you,” Aubrey said.

  That wasn’t it. “I feel like it didn’t matter as much to her as it did to me.”

  Casey and the rest of the girls nodded. They knew what it was. Friendship, loyalty, sisterhood, the whole ball of wax. The things that were important to me turned out to be of little value to Amanda after all.

  “She’s the loser, then,” Callie said.

  “Yeah, she’s missing out.”

  “She doesn’t know
what’s important in life.”

  The young ladies around me all indicated their agreement. I knew they were right. My heart might be broken, but, in the end, at least my heart was in the right place. Here in Delta Beta, with friends. Amanda would never have that—­especially in prison.

  “Thank you.” I smiled shakily.

  Asha pushed a stuffed Busy Bee into my arms. “Here. It always makes me feel better when I hug one of these.” I took it gratefully and held it tight.

  “Speaking of which …” Cheyenne looked meaningfully at her sisters gathered around, in the small bedroom. “We wanted to ask you something.”

  I steeled myself. I didn’t know if I could answer any more difficult questions about murderous sorority bitches.

  “You told the pledges that you never had a little sis,” Cheyenne continued.

  “I just never got matched up,” I said sadly. “It was probably for the best.” Considering what happened when I had a big sis.

  Jane cleared her throat. “We wanted to know if you would be our honorary big sister.”

  I looked up, expecting to see that this was some kind of consolation gesture. But the faces around me were sincere, warm, and open. “Really?” I asked, my heart opening up at the thought.

  Asha nodded at the Busy Bee. “You’ve been the best big sister to all of us even though we know it hasn’t been the best of times for the chapter.”

  Aubrey chimed in. “You’ve looked after us.”

  “And helped us through tough times,” Cheyenne said.

  “And listened,” Callie added. “Most of the time.”

  “That sounds like an awesome big sister, to me,” Casey said, reaching out and putting his arms around the nearest Debs.

  I squeezed the Busy Bee to my chest, feeling the Delta Beta love warming me completely. “Thank you. I accept.”

  EARLY THE NEXT day, I called Aubrey and Callie into the chapter advisor’s apartment.

  “Ladies,” I began. “A lot of information has come out about your behavior in the past week and a half. And I think you both knew what the other was up to.” Aubrey and Callie exchanged cautious looks underneath their lashes.

  I held up two pieces of paper. “These are your S&M reports.”

  Both of the girls’ perfectly shaped eyebrows shot straight up. “Delta Beta procedures mandate that I write you both up for your violations. Of which there have been many, some of which were recorded on film.” I let that sink in, then dropped the papers.

  “But I’m willing to bend the rules this time.” They relaxed until I said, “On one condition.”

  “What?” Callie said quickly.

  “Anything,” Aubrey said soon after.

  “You mend your fences. Forgive each other. Start fresh. I know you’ve probably never been close. But bid day was long ago, and you two are both leaders in this chapter. You have both learned so much, and I just think you shouldn’t waste the opportunity to have a true friend.”

  They both looked tentatively at me and each other.

  “So you’ll ignore everything if we just agree to be friends?” Aubrey asked.

  “And you agree to never ever have phone sex for money again,” I said pointedly. Then I gave Callie the same glare. “And you agree to never ever molest another house brother on my desk.”

  Aubrey gasped, then tried to cover it up with a cough.

  “What if he quits the house-­brother position?” Callie asked.

  “No, not on my desk!” Honestly. Did I really have to say that twice?

  Aubrey bit back a giggle, and Callie had to smile, too.

  “Thank you,” Callie said softly.

  Aubrey nodded in agreement. I could only smile back at both of them. My heart was too far up my throat to say anything.

  Casey dropped in at the house not long after that. He had checked out of the hotel and was headed back to Atlanta.

  “So, what’s the status of the Charlotte reporter?”

  Casey rolled his eyes. “Journalists are such a pain the rear.” They’re all ‘the public has a right to know.’ ” He made little quote marks with his fingers and sighed. “But it’s actually worked out that Amanda was the Panhellenic advisor.”

  “Really?” I couldn’t imagine how Amanda helped anyone with anything.

  “She wasn’t allowed to tell ­people her sorority. No one knew what she was.” Casey smiled. “And I’m not telling. The reporter agreed with me that the Botox murder was a much better angle than the phone sex, so we’ll see.” He shrugged. “The good news is, I heard you’ll be here as chapter advisor.”

  I avoided his eyes. I had indeed called Mabel after leaving Amanda at the police station, giving her a very detached and calm statement about the events of the day. And she, after calling Amanda a few choice names that were not Mary Gerald-­ and Leticia-­approved, bluntly assessed the situation as being totally [redacted to protect the dignity of a Delta Beta national officer] up. “We need you there, Margot, more than ever. Please consider staying on as chapter advisor,” she said.

  I had just heard my big sister confess to murder after trying to frame me for it. I wasn’t in the best mind-­set to consider any permanent job offer, much less one at the Sutton chapter. There were too many memories. Too many ghosts.

  “I told Mabel I’d think about it,” I said.

  “Someone has to bring this place together again.”

  I hated the feeling that swept over me when he said that. “Or maybe I’m the one that tore it apart.”

  Casey grabbed my hand and yanked it. “Don’t ever say that, Margot. You were the one who put these women first, every single time. No one else had their best interests at heart. Not Liza, not Amanda, not the police. You. And they know that. And maybe you just stay for a month or so. Just knowing you’re here is going to be the best thing in the world for these Debs. They’ll see a real woman in charge. A woman who’s strong enough to put others first.”

  Then he hugged me, smelling deliciously expensive, like the way anything Gucci should smell.

  “I’ll miss you,” I said into his sweater vest. Casey was one of the few men on planet earth who could pull a sweater vest off.

  “I’ll miss you, too.” Casey smoothed my hair. “Now wash your face. You don’t want these women to have a role model who looks like she can’t properly apply eyeliner.”

  I used the back of my pinky to wipe under my eyes. Casey was right. Leticia and Mary Gerald would not approve.

  Chapter Forty-­three

  IT WAS NEARLY midnight, and gray wisps of clouds covered the moon and cast shadows over the trees surrounding the sorority house. I opened the front door very slowly, slipping out into the night in a black L.L. Bean fleece and dark-­rinse skinny jeans. I looked around. No one was around, and sorority row was deserted.

  Silently, I crossed the grass and sat in the old swing hanging from the oak, the one with the brass plaques and all of the memories attached.

  I waited, watching the play of moonlight and wind dance with the shadows on the still-­green grass. It was October, and there would be a frost soon, even in North Carolina, and that grass would fade to brown. After four years at Sutton College, I remembered the change of seasons well. They had been a revelation for a Florida girl like me.

  With the sounds of the wind in the leaves above me, I didn’t hear his approach until it was too late. When he sat down on the swing next to me, it sank on his end with his weight. There in the moonlight, Ty Hatfield was a calming, strong presence, as steadying as the tree that we hung from. He smelled like laundry detergent and something sweet, like he’d just stopped by a fall carnival and indulged in a caramel apple.

  “Did I call 911 and not remember?” I finally asked, deciding to lead off with a joke.

  “Nope.” He pushed off the ground with his feet, pushing us against the wind.

  “So what’s new?” The question was casual, like I hadn’t been a murder suspect in the past forty-­eight hours.

  “Just thought I�
��d come by, make sure everything was okay here.”

  “Well, that’s ridiculous,” I snorted.

  “Yeah, well, I’m a worrywart.”

  “If everything wasn’t okay, I’m sure I could handle it by myself.”

  “I’m sure you could.”

  We rocked back and forth, thanks to Ty’s boots levering toes to heels as he pushed us along. A gust of cool air blew through my hair, and I took a deep breath, savoring the scent of fall in the wind.

  “Fatfield,” I said, my voice barely rising above a whisper.

  Ty paused, turning his head to look at me.

  “I remember you.” It all came back to me. “I didn’t recognize you because you look so different now.”

  Ty sniffed. “Amazing what losing fifty pounds can do.”

  I shook my head. “It’s not just that. You’re older, more mature, more …” Manly, hot, experienced. Pick one. But I didn’t say that aloud. “The girls were calling you Fatfield.” I remembered them. Lilah DuBrow, Jenna Gallo, Alicia Allen. Bitches, yes. And sisters, unfortunately. “I just did what any Delta Beta would do.”

  There was a slight pause before Ty swung his arm across the back of the swing and stared at me, intense and serious. “No, Margot. Not every Delta Beta would stand up for a fat pledge whose own brothers wouldn’t defend him.”

  My heart softened at those words. Because of Amanda, I now could truly empathize how that freshman felt when his sworn friends abandoned him. I understood where his cynicism came from, but I wasn’t ready to be as black-­and-­white about fraternal organizations as he was. “Maybe there are a few bad apples, but the principles are still worthy. The Delta Beta founders set standards that—­”

  Ty’s dry laugh interrupted me. “You’re going to still do that, now? After all this?”

  “Do what?” I asked, confused.

  “Act like there’s something magical about your sorority that makes the world perfect? All your little perfect princesses, spreading peace, love, and rainbows.”

  Yes, he was mocking Delta Beta, but I could see his point. The fact that I saw where he was coming from disturbed me. A lot. But getting arrested and blamed for murders and assaults you didn’t commit changed the way you saw the world, I guessed.