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The next few hours had to be the slowest of my life. Counting down the minutes until Jason called and elaborated on his claim. I wondered what made him come to this conclusion. Was his mother involved in something dangerous? Could it be someone in their family that killed her? Was there money involved?
I thought about the most common motives among murderers—money, jealousy, and revenge. Whatever the reason, if she was indeed murdered, the killer took the time to make it look like suicide, which meant it was premeditated. This was no crime of passion. The killer was someone cold, calculating, and dangerous.
“Stop!” I told myself out loud. I suddenly realized I was pacing in my room, and if I wasn’t careful, I’d wear a rut into the carpet. Marlow stared at me with concern from my bed. Trying to calm myself, I sat beside her and absently scratched behind her ears. Perhaps Jason was wrong. Perhaps he was looking for something that wasn’t there. What evidence could he possibly have?
You’ll just have to wait and see, a voice spoke in my head. But that was easier said than done.
I picked up my phone and saw it was two minutes past nine. Dialing Jason’s number, I returned to pacing and chewed on my thumbnail while I waited for an answer on the other end. It wasn’t until Jason answered that I realized my heart was racing.
“Hello?”
I cleared my throat and tried to force calm into my tone. It didn’t work. “It’s Holly.”
“Holly, I’m so glad you called.” His voice was a little anxious.
“Jason, what’s all this about?” The suspense was gnawing at me, and I couldn’t help but bounce from one foot to another.
“Look, I think my mom was into something with some bad people.” I forgot to breathe again for a moment at his revelation.
“What makes you say that?”
“Just the way she was acting a month or so before she died.”
She was acting suicidal, I thought but didn’t say. “Can you be more specific?”
“She seemed... nervous. Agitated.”
I sat down on my bed. My own nerves were starting to calm down as my analytical mind kicked into gear. “Was there anything else that seemed off?”
“Well, she’d just purchased a fancy new dress. An expensive one. It was for a benefit held at my father’s offices.” His father is a Purdue University researcher. “Why would she go and do that if she was going to commit suicide?”
I knew if Mrs. Kenilworth was mentally unstable, she could have shifted into a suicidal state without much effort. “Was she on any kind of medication? Something for depression or a mood stabilizer?”
“No, nothing like that. Blood pressure medication was the only thing she took. My mother has no history of mental issues.”
I reached for my book bag and hastily pulled a small notebook and a pen from inside. I began taking notes as we spoke. “Did she leave a suicide letter?”
“No, nothing.”
“Jason, why are you telling me all this?”
There was a deep sigh on the other end of the line. “Holly, everybody knows about the murder you solved at that ski resort. You’re good at this stuff. I need your help.”
I felt a familiar thrill starting to rise through my body and knew I couldn’t turn him down even if I wanted to. “Okay. I’ll look into it. We need to meet and go over a few things.”
“How about tomorrow? I can give you a ride home from school. I’ll buy you a coffee at Shirly’s Shoppe, and we can talk there.”
“Y-yeah,” I stammered. “Yeah, that sounds good. But don’t you have football training or something?”
“Weights all year. But Nah. Coach gives us Mondays off. I can meet you outside the gym doors.”
“I’ll be there.”
“Good. And Holly...” There was a pause for a moment before he continued. “Thank you.”
“Of course.”
He ended the call, and I sat with the phone to my ear for a few seconds until Marlow’s nose, nuzzling my hand, pulled me out of my stupor. Finally, I placed my phone on my nightstand and stood, looking around my room without really seeing anything. My thoughts were on Mrs. Kenilworth. What on earth could a small-town teacher be involved in that would get her killed? Especially by someone with the forethought to make it look like a suicide. Was Jason just being paranoid? Hoping for answers that weren’t really there? Possible. All I could do was follow the clues to see where they led, just like any good detective.
***
The following morning, I walked inside the school with Gwen by my side, just like always. I wanted desperately to tell her about my phone conversation with Jason but couldn’t get her involved. Because, for one, I knew Jason would want to keep all this under wraps. And for another, if something else was going on here and a killer was on the loose in Lafayette, the less Gwen knew, the better.
Instead, I told her how I talked to Jason at the funeral and that he wanted to get together after school to talk more. It wasn’t exactly lying. I was just omitting certain facts. Telling myself this didn’t make me feel any less guilty. I hated keeping things from her.
“I’m glad he’s reaching out to talk to someone,” Gwen said, giving me a sympathetic smile. “I think it will do him a lot of good. And who knows, maybe you two will hit it off and become a couple.”
I felt my cheeks redden. “Gwen!”
“What? He’s so cute. Plus, he’s a star football player. He may be in the NFL someday. You need to take that ride with him.”
“Would you calm down? I’m having coffee with the guy, and you have us married off and living some lavish lifestyle.”
“I’m just saying... you could do worse.”
“Yeah, but he couldn’t.”
“Holly, you sometimes do this whole self-deprecating thing that just doesn’t float with anyone who knows you. But whether it’s to raise your self-esteem or feed your ego, I’m going to tell you what you probably already know. You’re beautiful, smart, and funny. And some guys like weird chicks, so you got that going for you as well.”
“You almost said something nice there,” I teased. “You found a way around it in the end, but you were so close.”
Gwen laughed. “I gotta get to class. See you soon.”
“See ya.”
I drifted through my classes like a ghost who was only vaguely aware of her own existence. When Study Hall came around, I took a break from reading to make a list of conversation points and questions I’d have to ask Jason to start an investigation. After that was done, I pulled a manila folder from my book bag and labeled it “Case 002” since I considered the case at the ski resort 001. I never made a folder for it, but upon further consideration, I decided I would. If this was going to be a frequent thing, I’d want to be well organized.
By the time the period was over, I had a good start. I’d be ready when Jason and I reached the coffee shop. The rest of the day went by in a blur. I couldn’t pay attention to my teachers or the work they were handing out. But I promised myself I would focus on all of it later that evening, once the meeting with Jason was finally out of the way and we had a plan together.
When the bell rang at the end of the day, I made my way toward the back of the school and out of the gymnasium doors. Jason was there, looking slightly nervous. There was still sadness in his eyes, and I imagined that sadness would be there for the rest of his life. It may fade over time but will never go away completely.
“Hey,” he said as I approached.
“Hey.” I tried to give him a reassuring smile, hoping it would comfort him somehow.
“Come on, I’m parked just down this row.” He pointed down the first row of cars and began to walk. I kept in step beside him and was fully aware of the strange looks we were getting from classmates around us. Jason either didn’t notice or didn’t care. I hoped it was the latter, but I couldn’t be sure.
“Here we go.” He pressed the button on his key fob. The lights flickered on an old Toyota 4 Runner with a faded, black paint job and a touch of rust around the rear fender. I rounded the back and jumped into the passenger seat. Inside, the vehicle was clean and smelled of French vanilla. I looked up at the rearview mirror to find a little cardboard air freshener shaped like a candle. Jason smiled. “My mom was crazy about anything that smelled like baked goods. She drove my dad nuts with it.”
I gave a smile but said nothing.
Jason turned the key in the ignition, and we pulled out of the parking lot only to wait in line to exit.
“So,” Jason began. “Why aren’t you driving yet?”
“Honestly, I’m far too terrified.”
My reply was curt, and he waved a dismissive hand. “Ah, there’s nothing to it. You just need to put some time in. Practice makes perfect, you know.”
“That’s what I hear.” Why did I feel like everything I said sounded stupid?
“Listen, I want to thank you again for helping me with this. Hell, just believing in me.”
“Of course. If someone did this to your mother, we’ll make sure they’re put away for it. We’ll find the truth.”
He sighed nervously and nodded.
Once we were out on the road, it didn’t take long to get to Shirly’s Shoppe, just down the street. The day had become overcast, and rain had started sprinkling over the ground. As we left the Toyota and walked toward the entrance, I caught the scent of wet leaves and relished in it. Fall was my favorite time of year for a lot of reasons, but the smells were near the top of the list.
Inside, we took a booth near the rear and ordered. I got a Pumpkin Spice Latte, and Jason went for the Caramel Macchiato.
“Don’t tell me you’re one of those girls who go crazy over pumpkin spice stuff every year,” Jason said, smiling.
“Guilty as charged,” I said with a shrug. “I like what I like.”
Our beverages came, and Jason’s expression changed. “So, I guess we should get down to business.”
“Yeah, I suppose so,” I uttered, taking a sip from my drink.
“Alright. Where do we start?”
“First, I need to ask you a few questions,” I replied, pulling my pad of paper and a pen from my bag. “Some of them may be difficult to discuss.”
He swallowed nervously. “Okay.”
“Exactly how did your mom die?” I dived directly for the major question troubling me.
“Uh... gunshot wound to the head.”
This was tough to hear. My mind flashed to the image of my old teacher lying in her coffin, and I briefly marveled at the job done by the funeral home to hide such a wound. I wanted to stop there and comfort Jason but forced myself to press on instead. I had to approach this like a detective conducting an interview, so at least a little disconnect was necessary. “The gun, where did it come from?”
“It was Dad’s. Registered in his name.”
“Is it usually kept in a gun safe?”
“Honestly, I didn’t even know he had it. But an empty shoe box was found next to her on the bed. I imagine they kept it hidden somewhere safe.”
“If you didn’t know about it, what are the chances someone else would?”
“I don’t know. He could have discussed it with any number of friends or co-workers.”
“And does your dad have an alibi for the night she died?”
Now he looked offended. “Holly, you don’t seriously think he could have anything to do with this?”
“No, but this is part of an investigation. We have to consider every possibility.”
This calmed him down a little. I continued making notes on my pad. “Okay, yeah. Dad and I had gone out with some of the guys from the team and their fathers. My sister was with us too. We had dinner at Applebee’s. Coach likes to do things like that and get the parents involved. This was a Dad night. Mom night was the week before.”
“And you all were together the entire time?”
“Yes. Dad and I were even on the same pee schedule.”
I repressed a giggle at this. “Who discovered her body?”
“Dad did,” he replied in a hushed tone.
Once again, I found myself wanting to stop the questioning and wrap an arm around his shoulder. Stop! Right now, you’re a detective, so detect.
“Did your mother have any enemies? Anyone at all who’d want to see her harmed?”
“I mean, she was a teacher. Sometimes she’d complain about angry parents here and there, but nothing serious. Not that I’m aware of anyway.” Jason’s eyebrows drew together as if he were trying to think of something. I waited for him to continue. “No, I can’t think of anyone.”
“Did you notice if anything was out of place? Maybe something valuable that was missing?”
“No, nothing.”
I continued to jot down my notes. “You said it was possible she was mixed up in something bad. Maybe with shady individuals. What gave you that idea?”
“Well, there were a couple of nights she came home late, like really late. She told Dad that she was swamped and had to stay after class to grade papers. I could tell she was lying but never figured out why.”
“Do you think your dad knew she was lying?”
“Oh yeah. No doubt. He gave me a look. Like he could see something was off. He didn’t pry, though.”
“Is it possible she was having an affair?” I hated asking, but there was no way around it.
After a slight hesitation, Jason replied, “No. At least, I don’t think so.”
“And you said she was acting strange about a month before her death. Can you expand on that at all?” I took another sip from my Pumpkin Spice Latte, curious about what he would say.
“By then, Mom didn’t seem to want to leave the house unless it was for work. And even when she did, it seemed like she was on high alert. Walking out to her car, she used to look around as if she had expected an attack. Very paranoid. This stopped after a week or so.”
“That does sound strange.”
Jason’s eyebrows shot up. “Right?”
“What about your dad? Does he suspect foul play?” I asked as Jason took a drink of his Caramel Macchiato. He winced as if the drink was far too hot, then went on.
“Nah. He’s a wreck. Barely functioning without her. He’s got a business trip coming up, but I’m not sure he’s going to be able to make it.”
That was a bit of news I thought we could use. “I think you should convince him to go.”
“What? Why?”
“If we could go through your mother’s things, her laptop, any mail, bank statements, it could really shed some light on what was going on in those final days. It’d be better if he doesn’t know what we’re up to.”
“Okay. I’ll do my best. His flight is set for Thursday.” Jason picked at the paper sleeve around his cup, then raised his head as I spoke again.
“Good. One more question. Did you tell the police about any of this?”
“Yeah, but they weren’t hearing it. Said it was a clear-cut suicide.”
That didn’t bode well. “Okay. Once we gather more information from your mother’s things, we can go from there. I’ll likely need to interview those closest to her. Siblings, friends, even your dad at some point.”
“He’s not going to be happy about that.”
“We’ll worry about crossing that bridge when we get to it. But, if we gather enough evidence that points to your mother being murdered, I think he’ll see reason and even get the police involved.”
Jason let out a relieved sigh. “Okay. You really are scary good at this.” He smiled with admiration.
“Weird, right?”
“A little. But in a good way.”
I blushed and smiled. “The result of having read about three hundred mystery novels. The procedures are embedded in my brain.” I chuckled.
“It’s impressive.”
“Thanks.”
I finished taking notes as we drank our coffees, and the conversation turned to our plans after high school. I told him of my dilemma and my parent’s impending move to Louisville.
“Yeah, you definitely have a difficult choice to make. Are you leaning one way or the other?”
I placed my elbow on the table, propped my chin on my palm, and let out a sigh. “Not yet. I’m still gathering information. I’m nothing if not thorough.”
“So I’ve noticed.”
I smiled and asked him the same question, “What about you?”
He sat back in his seat and shrugged one shoulder. “Coach says I’m a shoo-in for a football scholarship. He says I should have my choice of schools.”
“That’s great. I hope it all works out for you.”
“Thanks.”
An awkward silence fell between us. Finally, Jason spoke, “I guess I should get you home.”
“Yeah,” I said, gathering up my things. “I got loads of work to do.”
Jason paid the tab, and the two of us raced out into the rain (which had escalated from a sprinkle to a downpour while we were inside) and into his Toyota. The ride home was fairly quiet, aside from me giving him directions to my house. He pulled up to the front curb and shifted into park.
“Okay. I guess I’ll see you in school tomorrow.”
“Yeah. Thanks again, Holly.” Jason gave me a heartfelt smile.
I nodded. “You’re welcome.”
I jumped out into the rain and ran up the driveway to the relative dryness of the covered front porch. I gave a wave to Jason. He waved back and drove away. Then, I opened the door to find my mother staring out the front room window. “Was that Jason?”
“Yeah,” I replied. “We went for coffee. He needed a sympathetic ear.”
“Well, I think it’s wonderful you could be there for him. Your father and I raised you well.” With that, she kissed my forehead and shuffled off to the kitchen. “Dinner will be ready in thirty.”
“Got it,” I called back as I climbed the stairs to my room. Once inside, I dropped down on my bed and went through my notes from the interview with Jason. I had to admit to myself there wasn’t a whole lot there. Jason’s claim that his mother may have been murdered seemed to be based on nothing more than a gut feeling he had. Or perhaps it was only wishful thinking. He didn’t want to believe his mother would take her own life and leave her family behind. Regardless, everything he told me (the strange behavior and the lies about staying late in the classroom) could easily be attributed to a woman on the verge of committing suicide.
Still, until we went through her computer, finances, and mail, I had to keep an open mind. I wouldn’t dismiss his claims like the police did. If I’d learned anything from novels about private detectives, it was that sometimes, there was more to a case than what appeared on the surface.