TUESDAY 11:56PM
“What is the holdup?” Darla pounded her fist on the aluminum table. “We’ve been here for hours.”
She and Jerry sat on a pair of uncomfortable metal chairs in a dull gray interrogation room at the Stuyvesant County Sheriff’s Department. Overhead, a fluorescent light flickered and buzzed.
“Calm down.” Jerry made the irritation clear in his voice. “You were the one who said we should go to the cops.”
Darla rolled her eyes. “Like we had any other choice, Jerry. We found a dead body. You think we could go back to our dorms and pretend we didn’t see anything? We have a responsibility. Plus, it was your idea to break—”
“Shush! Remember I told you not to talk about that.” Jerry glanced at the mirror on the wall. “They could be listening.”
Darla jabbed her finger at Jerry. “Don’t tell me to shush. If I have something to say, I’ll say it.”
“Darla, I’m sorry.” He reached for her hand, but she pulled away. “Look, it’s not—”
The door opened. A woman in her early fifties with frosted blonde hair stepped inside. She wore a blue suit and carried a briefcase.
Jerry stood to be polite.
“Jerry, Darla? I’m Allison Adams, Rachel’s mom. And for the moment, your attorney.”
“Finally.” Darla blew out her breath. “I knew Rachel would come through. Can we get out of here? I have a Thermo midterm that I should be studying for.”
Jerry sat and kicked Darla under the table. “Thanks for coming at such a late hour, Ms. Adams.”
“Rachel explained to me that you’re part of her news operation. Helping you gives me a chance to support her work.” Adams placed her briefcase on the table and sat opposite the pair. “As for getting out of here, you’ll have to talk to the police first.”
Darla groaned. “We already told them we found the body.”
“They want more. Jerry, I know you told Rachel that you didn’t volunteer any additional information. That’s good. You should never speak to law enforcement without an attorney present. You’re going to tell me what happened, and I’ll take it from there.”
Jerry looked at the ceiling. “But what if they’re listening in?”
“Paranoid.” Darla pointed a finger at her head and twirled, making the ‘crazy person’ gesture.
Adams shook her head. “I assure you that no one is listening. If they were, it would make things much easier. I could get any charges against you tossed. Plus arrange for a fat settlement.”
“Charges?” Darla sniffed, holding back her tears.
Adams reached out patted Darla’s hand. “I didn’t mean that you were going to be charged, dear. That’s just a hypothetical. It’s how lawyers talk. Now how about filling me in on what happened? Don’t hold anything back. I’m your lawyer, and I can’t divulge any of this conversation unless you expressly permit it.” From her briefcase, she pulled a yellow legal pad and a pen.
Jerry recounted the events of the day starting with his first visit to Professor Johnson’s house, the murder of Professor Harding, the connection between Peggy Johnson and Professor Harding, his suspicions about Professor Johnson’s involvement in not just Harding’s death but superstitious deaths on campus, and the break-in leading to the discovery of the body. Then Darla told her version of what happened.
Adams scribbled on her pad. “Rachel told me about your bad luck theories. To be honest, it’s kind of hard to believe. And I’m sure the police will not want to hear it. We’ll explain that you believed Mark Johnson might have had something to do with Professor Harding’s because he blamed her for Peggy’s death.”
“That makes sense.” Jerry nodded.
“I’m going to be with you when the police ask their questions. Don’t answer immediately. Look at me, and I’ll let you know if you should answer.”
“But what’s going to happen to us?” Darla’s voice cracked.
“Everything should work out as long as you told me the truth. You reported the body. It appears to be a suicide. You didn’t run, didn’t take anything. I’m pretty sure there won’t be any charges. Even if there are, the most you’re likely to get is probation.”
“Probation? This cannot be happening. My dad is going to kill me.”
“That’s the worst-case scenario. They’re also going to want your fingerprints. They need them so they know you’re telling the truth about not going near the body.”
“Fingerprints? I’m going to be in the system?” Darla could no longer hold back her tears, and they streamed down her face.
Jerry shook his head. “They don’t need our fingerprints. We wore gloves.”
Adams sighed. “Gloves? You didn’t mention that before.”
“Yeah, latex gloves for both of us. Is that a problem?”
“Could be. Instead of visiting the professor’s house and overzealously breaking in when there was no answer, it looks like this was premeditated.” She scribbled on her pad. “Let’s go over your stories one more time. I don’t want any surprises coming up when we talk to the police. Darla, you go first this time.”
Darla repeated the events at Johnson’s house, then Jerry.
Allison interrupted twice for clarifications. She jotted one last note on her pad and stood. “Hold tight. I’m going to tell the police that we’re ready to talk.”
* * *
“And how did you gain entry to Mr. Johnson’s residence?” Detective Richard Mercer asked Jerry. The detective had a receding hairline and wore wire-rimmed glasses and a blue-and-gold checked shirt.
Jerry looked at Adams, who nodded.
“I used a credit card to jimmy the back door.”
Mercer wrote in his notebook. “And what reason did you have for breaking in?”
“I thought that Professor Johnson might have something to do with the murder of Professor Harding.”
“That’s what we have law enforcement for. No need to play at Hardy Boys.” He shifted his gaze to Darla. “Or Veronica Mars.”
“My clients are aware of that.”
“They understand that now.” Mercer looked back at Jerry. “What did you hope to find?”
“Incriminating notes, day planner, a gun?”
“And did you find any of that?”
Jerry shrugged. “The only thing I discovered was the note on the printer.”
“Did you search the computer?”
“No.” Which was the truth. Jerry wasn’t able to crack the password.
“Who found the body?”
“I did.” Darla raised her hand. “I came back upstairs after feeding Boris and poked—”
“Who’s Boris?”
“Professor Johnson’s cat.”
“Wait? You broke into the house and fed his cat?” The detective narrowed his eyes at Darla.
“He was starving. And his bowl was empty. Is someone going to take care of him?” Darla bit her lower lip.
“I’m sure someone notified Animal Services. Now what happened when you found the body?”
“Like I said, I came back upstairs and looked in the last room and that’s where I saw...it.” Darla shuddered.
“Didn’t touch anything?”
“Nope, I saw it...him hanging there. I was maybe one step inside the room, and I got out of the there as fast as I could.”
The detective shifted his gaze to Jerry. “Mr. Williams? Did you enter the room or touch the body?”
“No, I saw him from the hallway. Didn’t go in.”
The detective continued to ask questions. After twenty minutes, he stood. “Counselor, you want to join me outside?”
After Mercer and Adams left, Jerry stood to stretch his legs. “It’s going well, I think.”
“Charges? Fingerprints? Probation? I’d hate to see what you think isn’t going well looks like.”
“Don’t worry about it. Rachel’s mom really seems to be on the ball.”
“How can I not worry?” Darla slumped in her chair, her chin resting on her chest.
“Come on, smile.” Jerry reached out.
Darla swatted Jerry’s hand away. He started to say something, thought better of it, sat back down, and stared ahead at the mirror until Adams returned.
“Fingerprints are up next,” she said as she entered the room.
Darla began to object.
“There’s no way around it. The cops are entitled to them. After that, they’ll type up your statements. We’ll go over them together and sign them. Then you’re free to go.”
“Yes!” Jerry pumped his fist.
“That’s all?” Darla’s voice was filled with relief. “Nothing on my permanent record?”
“As long as you and Jerry told the truth. The detective doesn’t think you had anything to do with Professor Johnson’s death. At the scene, the coroner preliminarily classified it as a suicide. They are willing to overlook the breaking and entering. But don’t plan on leaving town in the near future.”
“We have an away game in two weeks at James Buchanan. And I’m competing at Nationals next month.”
Adams looked puzzled.
“I’m the assistant captain of the cheerleading team,” Darla explained.
* * *
The Uber dropped Jerry and Darla off in front of her dorm. Jerry five-starred the driver and added a six-dollar tip.
Darla started toward the entrance, and Jerry rushed to her side.
“What are you doing?” Darla turned away.
“Walking you to your room. Can’t be too careful.”
“I can manage all by myself.”
“Just want to protect my girl.” Jerry put a hand on her shoulder.
Darla slapped his hand away. “Don’t touch me!”
“Come on, Darla.”
“No, Jerry! I’m not going to come on. We could have gotten into serious trouble. We still might. They took my fingerprints! I might not get to compete at Nationals. All because of you and your crazy conspiracy theories.”
“Remember I told you not to come, but you insisted.”
“And that would have been better? You locked up in jail?”
Jerry could see he couldn’t win this argument. Three in the morning wasn’t the time for logic. “You’re upset, I get it. I’ll come by in the morning, and we can get breakfast.”
“Please don’t.”
“Darla.”
She turned and walked away.
“Can I call you?” he shouted.
Darla didn’t look back and entered the building.
From a darkened window on the third floor, someone yelled, “Sounds like you blew it, dude!”
Jerry flipped the finger to his invisible tormenter and headed home.
* * *
Back at his dorm, Jerry threw his backpack across the room. It knocked over the lamp, which crashed to the floor. He expected that would wake Mike up. But no lights flicked on. The door to Mike’s bedroom was open. Jerry poked his head in. The bed was empty and made.
Wonderful! Over at Talia’s, no doubt.
Why did Darla have to be so unreasonable? She didn’t even say good night.
Jerry went to his room, flopped on the bed, not bothering to take off his clothes, and turned out the lights. He stared at the ceiling in the faint darkness but couldn’t fall asleep. Too wound up. The body. The cops. Darla.
He flicked the light back on and picked up the photo of his mom from the nightstand. He’d lost her. Now maybe was losing Darla. Which was a stupid thought. He’d known Darla for less than a week, but he couldn’t stop thinking about her. Wondering if she would stay mad at him. Speculating if things were over with her. He could feel a hole tearing in his heart.
Jerry went to his closet. Hidden behind his snow boots was an unopened fifth of Jack Daniel’s Black Label. He bought it the day his fake New York State driver’s license arrived from Belarus. He was more of a beer guy, but it seemed like the right time to break out the hard stuff.
Jerry ripped the seal, twisted off the cap, took a swig. He almost spit it out. With great effort, he swallowed, and the whiskey burned on the way down. He went to the kitchenette, grabbed a glass, dropped in a few ice cubes, and half filled it with Coke, then added the Jack. Much more manageable. He refilled his glass and gulped it down again.
Jerry carried the whiskey and the three-liter Coke bottle back to his room. He sat on the bed, staring at the Kate Upton poster on his wall. Another drink. Jerry was pretty sure Kate would be reasonable, not angry with him like Darla. Of course, to snag a supermodel like Kate Upton you needed to be a handsome, cut, three-time Cy Young Award winning, multi-millionaire. She might be out of his league.
Stupid Darla. No, she wasn’t stupid. He was. He should have never let her come along. Told her there was no way he was letting her break into Professor Johnson’s house.
Another drink.
Maybe Darla would be over it in the morning. She was always so upbeat. Jerry couldn’t imagine her staying mad at anyone or anything for long.
Another drink. The bottle was half-empty.
He played it out in his mind. He’d run into her at the Student Center in the line for breakfast. Darla would look great: hair down on her shoulders, twinkling eyes, maybe a tight skirt. Jerry would apologize. Darla would pretend to be mad, then break into laughter. She’d fiddle with his collar, kiss him, and press her head to his chest. She’d smell like a flower garden.
Another drink. The room was spinning, and his stomach rumbled. Jerry set the bottles on the floor, lay down, and closed his eyes. The glass slipped from his hand. He lost consciousness.