The crisp fall air smelled of apples and maple or at least it seemed it should have. I pulled on my favorite comfy, oversized sweater and walked out to the front porch to watch the wind tease the leaves from the trees. I carried out the Rockmore yearbook and the remainder of my morning coffee.
Nevermore joined me, spending the first few minutes rubbing himself along the back of my sweater, creating a good storm of static charges with his fur. Kingston had marched out of the house in a snit when Elsie and I were saying good-bye. I was sure he hadn't gone far, but I was equally sure he was still brooding about the morning.
The phone rang and my heart did its usual skippity-do when I saw who it was. "Did you oversleep too? How's your head?" I asked before Briggs could say a word.
"My head is still attached, but it feels as if it's carrying marbles instead of brains this morning. It was definitely a struggle getting out of bed. I'm at the station right now. I'm heading over to the hotel soon. I want to get there for the brunch and catch a few people before they leave. Nate's office is sending over Riley Morrison's clothes. I thought you might come by the station and give them a sniff."
"Absolutely. And I'm sure I don't need to say this, but I'd love to go with you to the hotel."
"I figured you'd want to tag along. In fact, if you can drive, then I can pick up my motorcycle."
"Darn, I guess that means no ride back for me. You're going to owe me."
"Somehow, in my daze, I wrote that in my notebook." I heard paper shuffling. "Here it is. You owe Lacey a ride on the bike."
"I'm not sure if I believe you, but that's all right. I'll be reminding you daily. I'll be there soon. I just want to glance through the Rockmore yearbook. See if I can find anything significant."
"All right. The clothes should be here in the next twenty minutes. The brunch starts in an hour."
"See you soon." I put down the phone and perused the pages of the yearbook, not terribly sure what I was looking for. Grady Ramone seemed to be far more involved in school activities than Clive, Riley and Dane. Grady had wavy hair and wore shirts with Star Wars characters and Einstein. I glanced through the various clubs and noticed that he was the president of the debate club, the math club and a club called the Sherlock Holmes Club. The yearbook staff had taken the time to write a description and major accomplishments of each club. It seemed the Sherlock Holmes Club was a group of students who plotted and acted out murder mysteries. They met one weekend a month at a club member's house to create and solve murder mysteries. I went back to the picture. There were an impressive ten people in the club, and each had shown up for the photo wearing a plaid deerstalker hat like the one Holmes wore.
I ran my finger along the list of names. Jessica Trumbo's name jumped out at me. I moved my finger up and found her. She was standing right next to Grady with a plaid scarf wrapped loosely around her neck. The way she had her arm resting on his shoulder made it seem that they had been good friends in high school.
There were a few more nice pictures of Jessica Trumbo sitting at a piano and leading an auditorium in a holiday sing along. Debra had mentioned that Jessica was a musician and her dream was to become a concert pianist.
I turned the pages to get to the senior class. There were no comments or good-byes scrawled in the copy I was holding, leading me to conclude that it had been an extra, one that never belonged to a student. It would have been interesting to see a copy with personal notes and friend's comments.
Dane Caputo's hair was cropped close to his head. He was wearing a smirk that made him look entirely unlikeable. It wasn't a nice thought about a dead man, but it was the first thing that came to mind. Riley Morrison's deep set eyes made him look mean rather than mysterious and Clive Jergens was still wearing his thick mop of hair in the same middle parted hairstyle that he wore in high school. We'd been so busy in our hunt for evidence and witnesses, I realized that we hadn't seen or heard from Clive since his alleged attack in the hallway. He'd seemed shaken enough by the incident that it wasn't surprising he'd stayed locked in his room for the rest of the night.
Grady had his hair combed neatly to the side for his senior portrait. He looked like someone I would have wanted to be friends with in high school, someone always full of cool information and good ideas.
Nevermore rubbed against my hand, causing a few of the pages to flip forward. The book fell open to Jessica Trumbo's picture. I stared at Jessica's gently smiling face. Something about her looked oddly familiar. Nevermore shoved his head against my hand again, causing me to lose the page. "Darn it."
I stood up. I didn't have time to linger on the porch. I had to get to the station and lend my nose to the murder investigation.