9

Leesha and George seemed a little put out when I asked them to leave my room, but they did so anyway. I needed to change. George shrugged and said he’d show her the massive spider infestation in my basement, which I was hoping was a lie. Taking my mind off that, I set to work.

Hannah Smith was a non-de-plume I used every so often, to great effect. She was a school journo, and looked like it. Acted like it too, natch. I had my Hannah kit ready and waiting in a box in my closet. Blue sweater, white shirt tucked underneath, boyish-cut jeans. I also had a pair of glasses that gave me +10 to intelligence. Pretty sure no school journalist ever looked like this, but whatever. It worked. Especially with the addition of my school ID badge, that I’d mocked up on Word in about fifteen seconds. I also had a plain notebook and a totally sweet clicky pen that I’d swiped from Tess’ desk at some point.

She’d been funny with me the next session. I think she knew.

I got dressed and set my props down whilst I brushed my hair for the first time in, like, a week. It hurt. And I certainly thinned that out. I put it in a neat low ponytail and checked myself out.

I looked like I was super interested in local news stories and the state of the food in the cafeteria.

I was ready.

I met George and Leesha as they were heading back up the stairs. I distinctly saw her shudder, which I immediately tried to forget. They stopped walking as they caught sight of me and stared.

‘How do I look?’ I asked, twirling with my black satchel.

‘Terrible,’ was Leesha’s input.

‘Like a reporter or something. Or what people think a reporter looks like,’ George frowned. I beamed at him.

‘Perfect! Let’s go.’

I marched through them and headed to the garage. Perusing the choices, I opted for the Corvette. I was sad to see Betsy gathering dust in the corner. She’d been my baby ever since I’d passed my test. Unfortunately, she’d been pretty unreliable lately. I’d kept her under the tarp, pretending she wasn’t broken. I couldn’t bear to see her turned into a cube.

‘You’re not really going to do this, are you?’ asked George, as though I’d suddenly change my mind after walking down three flights of stairs.

‘And you’re not really going to do that, are you?’ I countered.

He frowned at me in the rearview.

‘Do what?’

‘Complain about something I do without giving me an alternative?’

Leesha snickered as I put the car in drive.

‘There are other ways to find out information without lying, Ann,’ he went on.

‘Again, not giving me another option, there.’

I put the address in my satnav and we headed off as he silently fumed in the backseat. Did I say silently? Because that was a lie.

‘You never seem to take responsibility for your actions. I mean, you’re gonna go to this guy, and make him relive probably the worst moment in his life, and for what? To see if he remembers and tells you something that he didn’t tell the cops five years ago? Why would he even do that? He doesn’t know you.’

‘I’ll say this one more time, George. What else can I do?’

‘Plenty of things!’ he exclaimed, leaving it at that. I rolled my eyes.

‘George, we’ve been through this every time I’ve had a case,’ I groaned. ‘There comes a time where you need to realize that this is how I’ve always done things, because it works. People lie. All of them. I don’t see an issue with a few of my own along the way. The ends justify the means, alright? If we find out that David did kill Jessica, Terry won’t remember the kid who lied to him. He’ll remember that his coworker finally got justice.’

‘It doesn’t excuse the fact that you toy with people’s feelings.’

‘Sure, it does. Look, the cops do the methodical thing of asking questions and searching for evidence, which works most of the time. I’m here for the times it doesn’t. And when the cops’ questions have failed, why would my questions suddenly work? Chances are, they’ll be the same. At this moment, I don’t even know who killed Jessica. It could be Terry. And if it is, he’s gotten away with it. So, I’ll go there today and ask him loaded questions and piss him off. If he has something to hide, he’ll make a mistake. If he doesn’t, he won’t.’

‘And what if it doesn’t work?’ George asked, ever the optimist.

‘Then, I’ll try something else. Did I ever tell you about Carol? She’d killed her sister and boyfriend and made it look like a random burglary. Apparently, the boyfriend had flirted with Carol first, so she’d gotten pissed that her sister had stolen him. Her sister had had a habit of that. “Stealing” things from Carol. She’d played the doting, grieving sibling so well that the cops hadn’t even thought of her as a suspect. She didn’t like her sister. She’d hidden that so well that nobody knew. Carol was never going to admit it.’

‘So, what did you do?’ Leesha asked, curious.

‘Well, since she was so weird about her sister stealing things, I pointed out what else her sister had stolen. The limelight, basically. I faked up social media accounts to give my condolences on an amazing woman. I dropped off flowers and sent letters to Carol, gushing about her. I made up a memorial blog about her sister. I, in short, pushed her to the edge.’

Leesha glared at me, suddenly afraid.

‘What does that mean?’

‘She wrote a letter explaining what she’d done and tried to top herself. Luckily, the boyfriend had been there to watch her and he’d run outside to tell me. I’d been following her at the time, waiting for her to slip up. I called 911 and she was saved.’

To say that they were both horrified would be an understatement. Look, they weren’t there. Carol’s sister only knew the extent of her hatred when the bullet hit her in the heart. Carol thought with her sister dead, she’d be free.

I just assured her she wasn’t.

‘You’re a lot scarier than I realized,’ Leesha shuddered. ‘Driving somebody to suicide? That’s dark. Even if she is a murderer. I don’t know if I like that or not.’

‘You weren’t there,’ I shrugged. ‘She shot her sister and her boyfriend point blank, then methodically went about knocking over chairs and pulling out drawers. They lived in a secluded area so nobody heard the shots. She took her time. And she laughed at her sister’s body as she was leaving, saying she’d won the game, whatever that meant. All I did was play her at her own game, using her weakness against her. Sometimes, to catch a killer, you gotta play by their rules.’

They had nothing to say to that. I almost laughed. I bet Leesha wanted me to do whatever it took to have David arrested. But what if David decided prison was not an option for him? I mean, this is real life. Not all killers are law-abiding. Besides, if you’ve killed once, you can kill again, right? In most religions and philosophies one murder is as bad as twenty. Might as well keep going until you’re free. That’s a reason most people kill anyway, to be free of something. Poverty, abuse, something or someone holding them back. You know, it’s actually not against the law to escape prison in Germany, because they see freedom as a basic human right. Point being, freedom’s a pretty enticing ideal.

Not many are willing to give that up.

I parked up in one of the two parking spaces outside the library. This obviously was not a popular one. Leesha and George had still not said anything, so I guess they were fine with me asking Terry stuff. I grabbed my notebook, pen and fake ID and headed in.

You ever been in a building that was so old and crumbling that you wondered if you’d stepped back in time? Yeah, this library was like that. I knew of a few other libraries around here which actually had modern facilities like computers and electrical lighting. This place looked like that really old guy in a nursing home who still insists on living, even though generations of nurses have come and gone and his family have forgotten he’s there. A relic of the past that nobody wants. Don’t look at me like that, we did that with my racist grandpa. After my lovely Grandma died, we all stopped pretending we liked him and didn’t bother visiting him ever again. He died four years later. My dad was actually surprised to get a phone call from his sister about his death.

The books in here hadn’t seen the light of day since day or light was invented. I dinged a bell – yeah, exactly like the ones on eerie Twilight Zone hotel desks – and waited for a beady-eyed, creepy-looking man to shuffle over from the abyss. I mean, I wasn’t waiting for that specific person in particular, but he seemed to be the only guy in the building.

‘May I help you?’ he greeted suspiciously. I guess he didn’t see many people here. Not living, anyway.

‘Hi, my name’s Hannah Smith, and I’m the sole reporter, photographer and editor at my school newspaper. Here are my credentials,’ I snootily said, shoving my badge into his nose.

Startled, he jumped back and peered at it under a lantern (no, really, I am not making this up) and handed it back to me.

‘Okay,’ he said slowly.

‘I’m doing a report on violence against women in the local area,’ I went on, narrowing my eyes at him. That was still a popular topic, right? ‘I believe that this place was the scene of a heinous crime not so long ago. Could you give me and my loyal readers a sense of what happened?’

The guy blinked a lot as I stood with my pen poised, ready to villainize somebody.

‘Uh, you mean Jessica?’

I nodded firmly.

‘Wow, well, that was a horrible time. For me and- well, only me. It was only the two of us here, you see. We’re not exactly well-funded. It’s hard work keeping this place running. Lonely, too. But Jessica and I? We got along really well. She made it all seem so easy. We were good friends,’ he sighed wistfully.

‘Really? Even with the age gap?’ I frowned. This guy must’ve been counting down the seconds before he could retire.

‘It wasn’t that big. We didn’t even notice it,’ he snapped, on the defensive. My BS meter dinged but I kept a straight face.

‘Of course. So, you must really miss her.’

‘Oh, yeah. Not a day goes by when I don’t think about her. You know, I always wonder what she’d be doing now. She was so full of hope and promise. And she’d always be the one taking the fight to Lola. Me, I’d stopped bothering a long time ago. But Jessica? She kept on fighting.’

I nodded along and scribbled dutifully. George had a look of confusion on his face, probably wondering why Terry was so forthcoming. Vanity, my dear. People like talking about themselves, especially if they think people are interested.

‘And Lola is...?’

‘Lola Barker. She was our boss. She decided which libraries got funding. She didn’t like me, for some reason,’ he griped. Hmm, couldn’t think why. ‘She refused to put money into this place. When Jessica first started here, the library was much worse than it is now. She fought for our corner. She sent petitions and badgered Lola on a daily basis for better facilities. She was a real thorn in her side, she was,’ he said smugly.

‘I’m sure. And, uh, what happened on the day of her murder?’

Terry sighed and sniffled, looking heartbroken.

‘She was working alone. I had to be with my wife for Christmas shopping. I wished I’d been here instead. Only three people came in the library that day. Jessica, our regular Mr. Banks, and whoever killed her.’

Wife, huh? The guy was clearly still pining after Jessica after all these years. Man, what a lucky woman.

‘Could it have been Mr. Banks?’

‘Mr. Banks was eighty-five at the time and Deaf.’

Not sure how that rules him out, but alright.

‘Was there anything unusual that happened around that time? Any suspicious readers? People hanging around, maybe?’

‘No, nothing like that. I just remember Jessica being really angry about Lola. She was upset about her attitude. You know, I think she was afraid of her. They argued. A lot. Lola had a temper. A really bad one. She came around every so often just to yell at us. I always wondered if it was Lola who-’

‘Yes?’ I asked innocently, forcing down the bile in my throat.

‘Never mind,’ he whispered.

Subtle as a sledgehammer. Gee, I wonder what he wanted me to think? I had all I needed. And honestly, I could’ve gotten it just by looking at him. I know you’re not really supposed to judge by appearances, but it sure speeds things along.

‘You’ve given me a lot of information, Mr.-?’

‘Roosevelt. Terry Roosevelt. No relation,’ he laughed. And you know what? It was a genuine laugh. Another notch on my con list for Terry. Think about it. You have a name similar to a celebrity and everybody you ever meet makes exactly the same comment. I’d say it’d be about five comments before you considered murdering anybody who dared ask.

This guy was clearly not normal.

I laughed along and assured him that I would definitely be speaking with Lola. I, too, pretended I was afraid of her. Then, I quickly left with my body intact and sped away from that place.

‘What do you think?’ Leesha asked as she tried hanging onto the dashboard for safety.

‘I think we can safely rule out David for that murder,’ I shuddered.

‘Lola?’ George nodded in agreement.

Okay, clearly I was the smart one of this double act.

‘No, doofus. Terry.’

‘What? Did you not hear what he said about Lola?’

‘Yeah, she’s a low-level government employee on civic duty. Big whoop. I mean, did you not hear that guy? He was clearly in love with Jessica. In a very creepy way. But he did a good, bullish job of trying to force my attention in another direction. I’ll give him that.’

George grumbled and tried to argue but I didn’t bother tuning in. Jessica turned out to be a dud.