The Ugly Girls' Club: A Murder Mystery Thriller

by C. A. Wittman

  She was still the same Emma, that small fat girl people used to look past or, worse, make fun of. Now she was special?

  Emma had written some of these thoughts in a journal she kept, often reflecting on Gumption's interview she'd given with the BBC in the eighties. She'd even replayed the interview a few times, the older woman's words holding a deeper meaning for Emma as the weeks went by and she drifted further away from the girl she used to be.

  As Emma walked, her thoughts swirled through her mind, circling back to the previous night and the talk with her mom. Jill had done a thorough analysis of the perils of abundant pornography online and its effects on young people. She'd been shocked and horrified, her immediate reaction to put digital controls and locks on everything. Emma had talked her out of it, reasoning with her mom that she needed to develop self-control. What would happen when she was on her own and didn't have Jill to monitor everything? They'd agreed she should get counseling, and Emma felt hopeful about the decision, relieved that she'd told Jill. It felt good not to have the secret anymore, some of the shame slipping away.

  "Emma!"

  Emma looked up to see Cat waving at her. Sunlight streamed through her hair as she closed the door to her mom's land cruiser. Her family had arrived in two vehicles because there were so many of them. Cat and her siblings gathered around Brenda's SUV while their dad assisted the grands out of his. Emma waved back, a sudden flood of affection for her friend overwhelming her.

  Cat's father took hold of Grandma Ada's and Grandma Tess's arms, leading them toward the restaurant, just as Cassandra and Nisha rounded the corner from 6th Street.

  "I love Blue Daisy," Cassandra said once they were all within a few feet of each other. "What time's your flight?" She asked Cat.

  "Five. We need to be at the airport by three."

  "Who's gonna watch the grands this time?” Nisha asked as they all headed in the direction of the restaurant.

  “This woman, Glen. She’s like a professional house sitter. That’s all she does.” Cat squinted in thought, then slid her arm through Emma's. "I'm glad you're back with us," she said and made a face. Emma made a face back. It was something they did when any of them felt like things were getting too mushy.

  "Swen," Brenda said to Cat's younger brother. "Put your phone away and pay attention to where you're going."

  Swen sighed, tossing his hair out of his eyes, and pocketed his phone. Carrie skipped ahead to ask Andy about pancakes.

  "Yo, where's HH?" Nisha said, looking around.

  "I left them messages and called, but they never got back with me," Cat said with a shrug.

  Emma stiffened, a dart of fear shooting through her.

  "What?" Cat asked.

  "You guys go ahead. I'm going to see if I can get ahold of them," Emma said. The group moved on, but Nisha stayed behind. She watched as Emma pulled up Hunter's number and called them. This time the call went straight to voicemail. Emma frowned, nibbling at her lip.

  "What's up?" Nisha asked.

  Emma glanced at Nisha, and their eyes locked.

  "Is HH in trouble?"

  "I don't know." Emma wasn't sure if she should tell Nisha about the letter, but Nisha wasn't having any of it.

  "Girl, what do you know?" She snapped, worry lacing her tone.

  "Yesterday, Hunter told me they got this letter in the mail from Poppy."

  Nisha's brows drew together.

  "She sent the letter a while ago, but it got lost in the post, and that's why Hunter only just got it."

  "What did it say?"

  "Hunter was going to call me back and read it over the phone because they were feeling nervous about the whole thing, but then I missed their call, and when I tried to call back, they didn't pick up. I called a few times and texted."

  "And you still never heard from them?" Nisha asked.

  "No." Emma blushed. She felt foolish and scared. Here she'd been lost in her head about her stupid looks and her own problems when her friend was possibly in trouble. It wasn't like Hunter to not get back with people.

  Last night, after she’d arrived home, Emma had tried Hunter a few more times before telling herself that perhaps Hunter had read Poppy’s letter, and whatever was in there had upset them and they weren’t ready to talk about it. She’d been planning to reach out later.

  "We should stop by their house after breakfast," Nisha said.

  There was no one else they could call. They only had Hunter's number.

  "Yeah. That's a good idea," Emma agreed, a heaviness settling in her chest, her philosophical mood turned to a smear of grey.

  After breakfast, they said their goodbyes to Cat and her family. Nisha had told Emma to keep her worries about Hunter to herself. She didn't want to spoil the mood, as if Emma didn't know that. When the Smiths left, the three of them stood on the corner of Broadway and 6th.

  "What do you guys want to do?" Cassandra asked.

  "We're going to Hunter's," Nisha said and explained everything Emma had told her.

  Cassandra listened, features pinched. "Do you think something happened?" Her skin had a pasty texture, accentuating her dark eyes crackling with tension.

  "It's strange that Hunter's not answering their phone," Emma said.

  They slowly walked toward Hunter's neighborhood.

  "We should try to locate some scooters," Nisha said.

  Cassandra got out her phone and pulled up the app. She stopped to look for available scooters. "There's, like, five on 4th Street."

  By the time they mounted the scooters riding north, a blustery wind had picked up. Emma's hair whipped at her face, and she wished she had a hair tie to put it in place. Her eyes watered at the sting of air as they flew down Wilshire, crossing over to eleventh street, and taking it to Brentwood. They cut through the center of town until they were on 26th street, where they swung a right and headed another two blocks south.

  Hunter's house was a cute cottage with Spanish revival architecture. It sat sandwiched between similar homes. Emma parked her scooter. She was finding it harder to breathe as they approached the front door. The memory of sitting at the Garrets’ dinner table flashed through her mind, Joanne's eyes soft and warm. Emma thought about the way her side teeth overlapped, and the little bump at the bridge of her nose suggesting she'd broken it at one time. Emma rang the doorbell. Cassandra cleared her throat, and Nisha pulled her tank top further up her chest. They waited, but no one answered the door. Emma rang the bell again.

  "Oh. No one's home," Cassandra said, pointing at the empty driveway.

  Emma and Nisha craned their necks to look past Cassandra at the vacant slab of white cement. Then a brown Honda Accord drove up as if on cue. The window rolled down. Henry smiled and waved, pulling into the vacant space.

  The girls waited while she cut the engine and got out.

  "Hi," she said and cocked her head, a questioning smile on her lips, her short dark hair standing spiky and boyish on top of her head. "Where's Hunter?"

  "Hunter?" Emma echoed, feeling suddenly lightheaded.

  The smile faded from Henry's lips. "Didn't they spend the night at your house?"

  Emma froze. Was she supposed to be a cover? But Hunter had mentioned nothing to her, and it wasn't like them to sneak around.

  "We don't know where they are," Nisha spoke up. "That's why…"

  She didn't finish her sentence because Henry's hand floated up to her mouth, something frantic and awful radiating from her dark eyes. Henry lowered her hand. "None of you have seen them?"

  They shook their heads no.

  "Come in," she said, jogging toward the front door. She fumbled with her keys to open it.

  "Where's Joanne?" Emma asked as Henry got the door open and ushered them inside. A sheer blue curtain fluttered at a window, imbued with life by the wind. When Henry shut the door, it fell still.

  "She's at work. Christ. She was worried because she couldn't get ahold of Hunter, and I told her their phone was probably dead, that they'd call back as s
oon as they could." Henry pulled her phone from her pocket and began tapping at the screen.

  On the second ring, Joanne's voice came through the speaker. "Hello?"

  "Jo, I've got you on speaker," Henry rushed to say. "Emma, Nisha, and Cassandra are here. They said Hunter never spent the night at Emma's."

  There was a slight pause. "But where did they go last night?"

  "I don't know," Emma said.

  "So no one's heard from Hunter since… when?" Joanne asked.

  "They texted me around four yesterday," Emma said.

  "I'm sorry, can you speak up?" Joanne's voice blared from the speaker.

  "I said, Hunter texted me around four yesterday. They said they got this letter in the mail from Poppy."

  "Poppy?" A brief silence followed Joanne's question, and then Emma explained the rest of their exchange.

  "Hunter was going to call me back, but I missed their call." She grimaced, remembering why. "Then I tried to call them back several times, and I texted, but they didn't get back to me. I invited them over. But they never got back with me after that.”

  "What time did we get that text from Hunter that they were spending the night at Emma's?" Henry asked Joanne.

  "Um, hold on. Let me look it up."

  Emma's eyes skirted over to Cassandra, who was pulling and squeezing her left index finger, lips pressed firmly together. Nisha looked… crushed. As if she expected the worst. If her past had taught her anything, it was that violent crime could happen to anyone.

  "Hunter texted me at 7:30.” Joanne read out the text. "Hey, mom, I'm at Emma's. I might spend the night if that's okay. Then I wrote, That's fine. Glad you're spending time with Emma. She's a good kid. See you tomorrow." Joanne's voice caught. "

  "But did you try tracking Hunter's phone?" Cassandra asked.

  "Yeah," Henry said, pulling up the app on her screen. "This is the address that comes up: 1807 Euclid Street."

  "That's my address," Emma whispered.

  "Call Jill and see if they're there," Nisha said.

  Emma started to, then noticed the time. "She won't pick up."

  "Why?" Henry demanded.

  "It's a thing," Nisha said, saving Emma from trying to explain her mom. "We should just drive over there."

  "Wait, what's happening?" Joanne called out from the speaker.

  "We're going to Emma's," Nisha said.

  Henry gave Emma an odd look, but she kept her thoughts to herself.

  "Okay. Call me as soon as you get there," Joanne said.

  "We will," Henry said, and Emma could hear the change of tone in her voice, a kind of flatness.

  Chapter 33

  Two cop cars glided silently down Euclid street, exhibiting a flash of lights without the sirens. Emma watched from the window and thought of sharks cutting through deep water, sleek and efficient.

  Jill scrambled to clean up the twins’ lunch layout. She was on her own that afternoon. Emma squatted to lift one of her siblings, who gazed at her leerily, lip trembling.

  "No, don't touch her," Jill yelled, frantically grabbing the corners of the sheet where the little white bowls were arranged. When Nisha tried to help Jill with the sheet, she looked like she might explode. "Please, everyone, step out of the dining room. I will take care of this."

  Nisha and Cassandra scurried into the kitchen. Henry, momentarily frozen, watched Emma's mom, a series of emotions fluttering across her face. Mild alarm, disgust, bafflement, concern.

  "Mom, I'll take care of this," Emma suggested, raising her voice above the now two crying babies. "Why don't you get the twins cleaned up?"

  Jill blinked back at her from behind her glasses and nodded, swooping one baby and then another up and walking to the bathroom.

  The doorbell chimed, and Henry answered it as Emma gathered the corners of the sheet, letting bowls and food tumble to the middle.

  Feeling ridiculous, she hefted the bulky bundle over her shoulder just as two officers stepped into the house. One was slight, with wispy brown hair and a face like a misshapen melon, the other tall with broad shoulders, narrow hips, and wavy black hair. He looked more like a handsome actor playing a cop, a James Turlington look-alike.

  "I’m Officer Parks. We're responding to a call about a missing minor," the one with wispy brown hair said.

  "Yes, my child." Henry stepped forward as Nisha and Cassandra slowly came back into the living room. "Their name is Hunter Garret," she said.

  The tall dark-haired officer stood behind the first, arms akimbo of the bulky holster around his waist.

  "And you are?" Officer Parks asked.

  "Henry Garrett."

  "And how old is your son?"

  Henry cleared her throat. "Actually, Hunter is gender nonconforming."

  The officer gave her a look but wrote this down. "Age?"

  "Fourteen."

  "When was the last time you saw your uh, er, your child?" He asked.

  The twins' cries grew louder, and the officers both looked in the direction of the bathroom.

  "I left for work at eight in the morning yesterday. Hunter was still in bed. When I got home around five-thirty, they weren't home. I texted them at seven, asking where they were. When they didn't respond, I texted my wife, Joanne. She hadn't heard from them either. A little after seven, she called to tell me that Hunter was at Emma's and would spend the night."

  Officer Parks looked up from his pad of paper. "But he never went to Emma's? I mean, uh, them?" His brow furrowed.

  Emma raised her hand. "I'm Emma."

  "Did Hunter come to your house yesterday?"

  "No. They never came here."

  The officer paused in his note-taking. "Whose house is this?"

  "It's my house," Emma said.

  "And who are you two?" The officer asked Nisha and Cassandra.

  "Friends," Nisha said, crossing her arms.

  "Can I get your names, please?"

  "Kanisha Dubois," Nisha said firmly.

  "Cassandra Baker." Cassandra's voice warbled a little, and she waved at the air as if trying to clear cobwebs away.

  The officer stared at her a moment, then returned his attention to Emma. "What is your last name?" He asked.

  "Dawson," Emma said softly.

  His eyes roamed the bulky sheet she held over her back, the bulge swinging around the gap between her right arm and her hip. "What's in there?" He asked.

  "Lunch food," Emma responded in the same soft voice.

  "Hunter's phone is at this location," Henry spoke up. "I tracked it and it's here."

  "So Hunter was here?" Officer Park’s tone turned sharper, and all eyes were on Emma. For the first time, Henry looked doubtful as she gazed at Emma, as if it had dawned on her that Emma perhaps wasn't telling the truth.

  The bathroom door opened, and the piercing shrieks of the twins filled the house.

  "I need your help, Emma," Jill yelled.

  "Who’s that?" The second officer asked.

  "My mom," Emma said. "She's giving my brother and sister a bath."

  The officers looked mystified as Emma walked toward the kitchen to deposit the sheet full of dishes.

  "Just leave that there," the first officer said.

  She set it down gently, then scurried from the room to the bathroom, where bath water was running. Two very grimy twins were sitting on the bathmat, screaming, faces flushed, as if they'd sat too long in a hot car.

  "Mom, the police are here," Emma hissed.

  "And I have two provoked and upset toddlers," Jill barked back. "This is an intrusion. If you had called, I could have told you that Hunter isn't here."

  "You wouldn't have picked up the phone," Emma said, reaching to lift one baby.

  "Just stand guard," Jill snapped. "You'll only upset him further. I would have picked up the phone at one o'clock. Hunter's mother couldn't wait another hour?"

  Emma watched her mother lift and lower a baby into the foot of warm bath water, sponging smears and dollops of food off skin and hair.
The water had a calming effect, and the piercing screams turned to shudders and hiccups. However, the other hadn't quieted yet and now crawled for the door. Emma tried to field her brother without actually touching him. There was a knock on the door, and then it opened. Jill's head whipped around, eyes widening as the James Turlington officer stood in the doorway, surveying them.

  "What are you doing in here?" Jill asked, aghast, eyes bulging. "This is an invasion of privacy!"

  "Ma'am," the officer said, voice even-keeled. "Could I have you come out to the living room, please?"

  "I'm bathing my children."

  "I see that, ma'am. We'd like to have everyone in the living room."

  "They are covered in food. I can't bring them out like this." This was not just a disruption for Jill. It was more like a grenade was thrown into the middle of her day.

  The officer looked at Emma. He wasn't moving.

  "We can wrap them in towels," Emma said to Jill. She grabbed a towel and picked up her brother before her mom could protest, wrapping him snugly. The effect startled him quiet for all of three seconds, then he opened his mouth and screamed. His shrieks grew by decimals. The officer, unmoved, waited, stony-faced and unblinking.

  With silent fury, Emma's mother lifted her sister from the bath. Straddling her brother on her hip, Emma twisted round for the second towel and handed it to Jill.

  In the living room, Jill glared at all of them, the front strands of her hair wet, droplets of water clinging to her glasses. Officer Parks was not with the rest of them.

  "This is an outrage," Jill seethed at Henry. "Your son is not here. I told you. He did not come over last night, and he has not been here today."

  Henry stared at Jill with undisguised malice, dark eyes glossy black.

  "Mom, stop!" Emma begged. "You're spinning." She felt pained and embarrassed.

  Jill's eyes skipped past Emma to the sheet near the kitchen entryway. It lay open, the dishes coated in a stew of pureed mush with clumps of broccoli and rice. "Who did this?!" Jill yelled, once again setting off the twin she held in her arms. "How dare all of you invade my home, make a mess of my children's meals..." Jill opened her mouth to say more, but Nisha crossed the room until she stood directly in front of Emma's mom.