When Lisa opened the door, Allison swept in, set down her sleeping bag and overnight case, and gave Lisa a hug. From what Lisa had said, Jennie expected the girl to be on the verge of hysteria. Instead, Allison seemed more fluttery and gracious than ever. Could be a coverup, Jennie reminded herself. Allison was good at that.
“Thanks so much for your help,” Allison gushed. Before Jennie could set her straight, Allison stepped away from Lisa and spread her arms out to Jennie. “You look great. And your tan—I am so jealous.”
Jennie reluctantly allowed Allison to hug her, then stepped back. It was then she saw the girl standing on the porch. As if on cue, Allison turned and took the girl’s hand and pulled her inside. “I’m sorry, where are my manners? This is Bethany, my…ah…sister. And these are my friends, Lisa Calhoun and Jennie McGrady.”
“Hi.” Bethany stuffed her hands into the pockets of her torn jeans. “And the name’s B.J. Lewis. Al, here, seems to have a hearing problem.”
“Bethany is a great name.” Allison gave her sister a look Jennie suspected was a plea not to embarrass her.
“For you maybe. Not for me,” B.J. argued.
You’re right about that, Jennie felt like saying but didn’t. Bethany should have been sweet, maybe saintly.
B.J. didn’t fit the picture at all. Jennie shifted her gaze from one girl to the other. Talk about contrasts. Allison had fine features, clear skin, a small nose, and big blue eyes. Her straight, shoulder-length blond hair looked like she’d trained each strand to shimmer and sway in unison every time she moved her head. Alice in Wonderland and Cinderella all wrapped in one neat package.
B.J., on the other hand, had kinky brown hair and hazel eyes—sharp and piercing—the kind that made you feel as if she could see clear through to your soul. She was attractive, but next to Allison, her nose seemed a little too big, her hair a little too drab, and her clothes a little too shabby. Enough reason, Jennie decided, to like her.
“Look.” B.J. took a step backwards. “I shouldn’t be here. I told Al she didn’t need to bring me, but she and Mrs. Beaumont insisted. I don’t need to stay…”
“Don’t be silly.” Lisa stepped outside, grabbed B.J.’s bag, and brought it in the house. “There’s always room for one more.”
She motioned B.J. in and closed the door behind them, then started up the stairs. “Let’s put your stuff in Jennie’s room, then we’ll get some snacks and talk.”
B.J. looked at Jennie as if waiting for her to second the motion. “Don’t look at me.” Jennie shrugged and grinned. “I just live here.”
Interesting, Jennie mused as she took B.J.’s bag from Lisa and followed her up to her room. The canvas bag looked like a reject from Goodwill. B.J.’s clothes didn’t look much better. Of course it was hard to tell these days when a pair of torn jeans sold at Nordstrom’s for one-hundred dollars a pair. “Just toss the rest of your stuff over here,” she said, pointing to the corner where she’d set B.J.’s bag.
“We’ll sort out sleeping space later. So, B.J.,” Jennie said as she ushered the party back downstairs, “I don’t remember seeing you before. Do you live around here?”
“No.”
When B.J. didn’t offer any more information, Allison produced a nervous giggle. “A woman of few words. Actually, B.J. and our mother lived in California until…”
“Give it a rest, Al,” B.J. muttered. “I’m sure Lisa and Jennie have more important things to do than listen to my life story. Why don’t you cut the gab and get down to business? We all know you’re not here for a social visit.”
Allison stared openmouthed at her sister and, for the first time Jennie could remember, seemed at a loss for words. Part of her felt sorry for Allison, but the other part wanted to cheer B.J. on.
“C’mon,” Jennie said as she led them into the kitchen. “Maybe we can find time for both.” She pulled out a couple bags of microwave popcorn and set them on the counter while Lisa raided the refrigerator for drinks.
B.J. hooked a leg over the barstool across the counter from Jennie. “I hear you’re pretty good at solving mysteries. Think you can figure this one out?”
Jennie shrugged. “Which one, Allison’s or yours?”
B.J. smiled and raised an eyebrow. “I’m not that hard to figure out.”
“I think you are,” Allison said.
“That’s because you live such a sheltered life.” B.J. shook her head. “You’d have a hard time understanding anybody whose house isn’t worth a couple mil.”
“That’s not fair…”Allison began.
“It’s true.” Shifting her gaze from Allison to Jennie, B.J. added, “How about it, McGrady, think you can figure me out?”
“Come on, you guys,” Lisa interrupted. She laughed nervously as she handed each of the girls a Coke. “I told you Jennie was a good detective, not a mind reader.”
This is a test, pure and simple. But for what? To determine whether or not I’m good enough to solve Allison’s mystery? Or good enough to be a friend? Whatever the reason, Jennie decided to accept the challenge.
“Maybe,” Jennie answered as she reached into the cupboard for bowls. Then needing more time to think added, “But let’s wait until we’re upstairs. I do better with puzzles on a full stomach.”
A few minutes later, the girls, carrying hot buttered popcorn, drinks, and a stash of chocolates, made their way from the kitchen, through the entry, and up the stairs to Jennie’s room. Jennie and Lisa pulled a couple of overstuffed chairs from their corner spaces and set them near the bed, then flopped onto it. Jennie set the popcorn on the floor so everyone could reach. B.J. sprawled onto the chair nearest Jennie. Allison sank into the other one and glanced at B.J. The look on Allison’s face surprised Jennie. She’d expected the girl to be annoyed or embarrassed. What she saw was a kind of sadness—like maybe Allison felt sorry for B.J., or like she wanted to help but didn’t know how.
“Okay, McGrady,” B.J. said, interrupting Jennie’s thoughts. She tossed a piece of popcorn in the air and caught it in her mouth. “Let’s see how good you really are.”
“You sure you want to do this?” Jennie asked. “I mean…I wouldn’t want to embarrass you.” The picture of B.J. forming in Jennie’s mind was not a pleasant one and she wanted to give her an opportunity to back out.
B.J. leaned back in the chair and hooked a leg over the arm. “You can’t embarrass me, McGrady. Now quit stalling.”
“Okay, but just remember this was your idea.” Jennie sighed, tossed a couple pieces of popcorn in her mouth, and began. “From the size of the chip you carry on your shoulder, I’d guess you’ve had a pretty rough life. You don’t have much money, and you just recently discovered that you have a sister. Since Allison is older, I’d say your parents must have divorced before you were born. Allison grew up with her dad and his new wife, and you with your mom and maybe, since your last name is different, a stepfather.”
B.J. stretched her legs out in front of her and leaned back. “Not bad. How’d you arrive at that?”
Jennie shrugged. “It wasn’t really all that hard. You and Allison don’t seem too comfortable together, so I figure you haven’t known each other long. I just hooked together other pieces of information you gave me and things I noticed.”
“That’s fascinating,” Allison injected.
“Not really. I know how you hate to be called Al. You haven’t corrected her. That means you’re still treading softly, not wanting to upset her. Besides, if she’d been around awhile, your folks wouldn’t have made you bring her here tonight. And…” Jennie turned to B.J., “…your overnight bag is in pretty bad shape. That means Mrs. Beaumont hasn’t had a chance to take you shopping.”
“She offered. I refused.”
Jennie nodded. “Which tells me something else. You’re angry. Maybe at your mom for not telling you about your dad, or at your dad for not finding you sooner.”
“I’m not mad at my mother. She’s dead.”
“You can still be mad at her.” Jennie spoke from experience. As much as she loved her parents, especially her father, she had struggled with being angry at him for leaving and with her mother for giving up—for falling in love with Michael, and a lot of other things.
“Well, I’m not. Okay?” Bethany insisted. “My social worker found out about Mr. Beaumont being my father when we cleaned out the apartment where Mom and I lived.”
Jennie twisted around to a sitting position and folded her legs in front of her. “So you started looking for him?”
“No. I didn’t want to.”
Her answer surprised Jennie, who’d give anything to know where her own father might be. “Why?” she asked.
“What do I need with a father? I’m nearly sixteen. I’ve practically been on my own since I was ten. Social services found him. At first he didn’t believe them.”
“You can’t blame Daddy for that,” Allison defended.
“There are lots of people who would say they were related to us because we have money.”
“Yeah, well I couldn’t care less about his money,” B.J. jeered. “I wouldn’t be here at all if they hadn’t threatened to put me in a foster home.”
“I’m glad you’re here. I always wanted a sister.”
“I’ll just bet. Anyway…” B.J. scooped up a handful of popcorn. “Let’s just forget it. I’m sure these guys don’t want to hear about our problems.” To Jennie she said, “You’re pretty good, McGrady.” She hesitated a moment, then asked, “So, what do you think about Al’s secret admirer?”
“It’s probably a prank. Some old boyfriend with a grudge or maybe a sore loser.” Jennie had another opinion but didn’t voice it. If she had to choose a suspect at that moment, it would be B.J. Lewis.
“Not a chance. I’ll bet this stalker doesn’t even know Al. He probably read about her in the paper. I think we’re dealing with a psycho here. I mean one day he’s sending her flowers and love notes and the next he’s threatening to kill her.”
“Kill her?” Lisa and Jennie asked at the same time.
“You never told me he’d threatened to kill you,” Lisa directed the accusation toward Allison.
“He hadn’t…until today.” Allison reached into the pocket of her cardigan, pulled out a square white envelope, and handed it to Lisa. “When I came home from church today I found this on my front porch along with…”Allison paused. Her voice broke.
“Dead roses,” B.J. finished. “The guy sent her a dozen dead roses.”
Lisa gasped as she read the note, then passed it to Jennie. The note, carefully written in bold block letters, read:
DEAD ROSES FOR A DEAD LADY