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‘I have to see Mickey,’ I decided.
George blinked a couple times to make sure he’d heard right.
‘What?’ he asked anyway.
‘I have to go see Mickey,’ I said again, reaching for my car keys. I stopped. Couldn’t drive, remember. That was possibly going to be dangerous.
Wait, screw it. I wasn’t drowsy yet. I’m driving.
‘Ann, what the hell?’
‘I made a commitment to a friend,’ I said. Well, not a friend. Or a commitment, either. ‘And he can probably help me out with Izzy’s case, too.’
George had no choice but to follow as I made my way downstairs.
‘Ann, I know what you’re feeling right now-’
‘Do ya? I mean, really?’
‘Look, Mickey’s not important!’ he yelled as I grabbed my coat. ‘You are on the cusp of figuring out some major event in your life, and you’re ignoring it?’
‘Yeah, I am.’
He swallowed whatever words were coming next.
I was staring down a hole looking at a rabbit with a pocket watch, and you know what? I didn’t want to follow. Or maybe, it was the other way around. I was in the fantasy world looking out at reality, and I didn’t want to go there. You know why?
It didn’t matter.
I didn’t know where my mom was, and I was fine with that. I’ve never needed to know. I could definitely live my whole life without knowing.
Whatever I found would not be worth the cost.
‘Ann-’
‘George, stop. I don’t want to know, alright? I don’t want to find out that...’
I couldn’t even think or say the words. You know, maybe I was thinking about this the wrong way. Maybe my mom had simply passed away from cancer or something. Or she’d gone to live with a lover. Or maybe she’d been on drugs and had OD’d, or she’d joined a cult, or hadn’t been killed by my father.
Okay, let’s take a step back here.
‘I don’t care and I don’t want to know,’ I said, resolute.
To my utter surprise, he started laughing.
‘What the hell is so funny?’ I snapped.
‘It’s not, really. But your whole thing with lucies is that you’re only helping them because they shouldn’t be here. You’re exposing people’s awful secrets and you’re perfectly fine with that. You just don’t want to expose your own.’
‘So, I’m a hypocrite. Tell me something I don’t know.’
I reached for the door that’d show me the big, bad world. My front door, not the tiny one in the rabbit hole.
‘You can’t keep running away from this,’ he warned.
‘Watch me.’
‘I don’t want to,’ he said quietly.
‘So, don’t. There is a whole world out there George, just waiting for you. You don’t have to be here,’ I informed him, a little petulantly, I admit.
‘You know, one day I might actually do that, Ann. But I meant what I said. You can’t keep running. One day, you will have to face the truth.’
‘Maybe there is no truth,’ I shrugged. ‘Maybe nothing happened, and I’m just making stuff up, because apparently that’s what I do.’
He gave me an even look.
‘Maybe. Why not ask your dad about it, so you can know for sure?’
If I didn’t know any better, I’d say he was goading me. Somewhere in my house, I heard a clock strike three. Great, I was sooo gonna be late now.
‘I have to go see Mickey,’ I said again.
This time, I was free to go.
Mickey lived in a crappy little apartment block with the steepest stairs known to mankind. There was graffiti everywhere, and smashed windows and pee stains- okay, I’m lying, but it wasn’t far off. It was hella dingy. And the light above the outer door had been flickering for years.
So, you know, basically what I said.
George acted as a Sherpa, guiding me up the mountainous terrain. I was working super hard for these mini muffins that I’d already eaten and was about to eat. I waited for a few minutes before I had my breath back and knocked on Mickey’s door. He opened it sullenly, looking at the goodies in my hand.
‘You’re half an hour late and you ate four muffins,’ he sighed.
‘Hello to you, too,’ I bit back.
He pushed the door open a little more and graciously allowed me to enter. I put the basket on his coffee table and quickly swiped another muffin as he brought in cans of soda. He stopped as he stared at my suspiciously-chubby cheeks.
‘Really? That is literally all I’ve ever asked for you in payment, and you still take half.’
‘I pay you money all the time,’ I protested, spraying crumbs.
‘And it all goes on my piece of crap car. I thought snacks would be safe.’
He obviously didn’t know me very well.
George took a look around as Mickey set up the video game I was being forced to play.
‘Where’s your mom?’ I asked.
‘Working.’
‘Cool. How’ve you been?’
‘Good. You?’
‘Good,’ I replied.
We are super close, as you can probably tell. It’s a friendship of convenience, really. We were both losers; still are. I’m crazy, obviously, and Mickey’s horizontally-challenged and has a certain hair type that is disagreeable to most. He’s a fat ginger dude, basically. We kinda stuck together and weathered the storm.
‘So-’
‘You want something.’
I scoffed in surprise, but he took no notice and continued loading the game.
‘Um, lest you forget, you invited me over,’ I reminded him.
‘Yeah, and you’re not complaining,’ he pointed out.
Well, he saw right through me.
‘Okay, here’s the thing,’ I began, quickly explaining the gist of the situation as he sighed, laboriously and loudly.
‘You want me to hack into the cops’ database? Are you for real?’ he groaned, as George walked back into the room.
‘That’s what I said,’ he nodded.
‘Shut up,’ I hissed at him.
‘And now you’re telling me to shut up?’ Mickey went on. ‘Wow.’
‘I wasn’t talking to you.’
He paused the setup long enough to look at me.
‘Right. Who’s here?’
‘Name’s George. He died a while back.’
‘George?’ he snorted, tickled pink by that, I can tell you. ‘Does he have a top hat and cane?’
‘Man, I wish,’ George muttered.
‘No, idiot. He died six months ago. He was at college, and got hit by a car. An actual car, not a horse and cart, alright?’
‘Alright, jeez. Why’s he still here? Thought they disappear after you solve their deaths or whatever,’ Mickey mumbled, finally passing me a controller. I stared at the foreign object in my hand. I had never been a gamer, and it kinda looked like space tech to me.
This was not going to end well.
‘Beats me. Obviously it’s because of my winning personality,’ I shrugged. George made a gagging sound.
Mickey looked like he wasn’t far off that, either.
‘Anyway,’ I said, glaring at both of them, ‘you gonna help me or what?’
‘How many times, Ann? I’ve never hacked into anything in my life, never mind a police case file. Besides, you’re supposed to be helping me. Okay, so with this-’
‘But you’ve helped me before,’ I interrupted, as he paused the game.
‘All I’ve ever done is Googled stuff that you were too lazy to, all to get you off my back. Like I was saying-’ he tried again, but I wasn’t having it. I’m sorry, but I think a murder is a little more important than a stupid game.
‘Look, this is somebody’s life we’re talking about.’
‘Something you’ve never cared about, unless that somebody is you,’ Mickey muttered.
‘Took the words right out of my mouth,’ George agreed.
Okay, so I was selfish. At least I had the balls to admit it. Kinda.
‘Look-’
‘Fine! I will help you, alright? But first, you’re helping me. No buts, no looks. I have been at 99% completion on this for years. I just need you to do exactly what I say, alright? Then, I’ll have finally completed the whole game.’
‘Wow, your biggest achievement to date,’ I said sarcastically. Though, not really, because it was true.
‘Second biggest, actually. John told me that as soon as I finish school, I’m being promoted,’ he said proudly.
I gave him a blank look.
‘Who’s John?’
‘My manager.’
‘...’
‘At the pizza place I’ve worked at since I was fifteen? Really? I mean, I know we’re not close but you can’t even remember where I work? I remember all the pointless crap you tell me. Ugh, let’s get this over with.’
Before I could apologize for forgetting that tiny, insignificant detail, he finally loaded up the shooty game and I did exactly as he said.
No idea what the hell that was, though.
He got his participation prize and finally, at long last, got around to helping me. Since he steadfastly refused to commit crimes for the greater good, he implored me to go back to the start of this whole thing. Namely, Izzy’s murder.
I sighed. It had been a while since I’d read the newspaper articles of America’s sweetheart. He pulled them up and I sifted through them. Drunken boyfriend, distraught parents, victim was such a cutie pie. Ugh, vomit. Nothing I hadn’t read before, and probably why I’d refused to read them again. I forced myself this time to check it all out. This was, after all, thirty years ago. There would be no Tweets, so presumably everything would be accurate. Except, you know, the stuff that wasn’t. And lo and behold, there was one paragraph that caught my eye.
“The coroner suggested that a thin material of some kind would have been used to strangle the victim. No such material was found either at the scene or on Manning’s person. Officer Daniel Rathers, who was first on the scene, said it was ‘significant, and suggested that Manning may not be the culprit.’
Manning was later charged and proven guilty by a jury in less than one hour.”
Officer Daniel Rathers. He’d had a few promotions since then.
And we’d had a few run-ins. To put it mildly, we clashed. To put it honestly, I’m pretty sure he’d kill me, given the chance.
And I was pretty sure I was going to give him that chance.