Dead Girls Don't Lie

by Marlie May

  I drank more soda. “I’ve got to be extra savvy this time. When I searched his office, I was nearly caught.”

  “Do you feel like you searched it thoroughly? Meaning, should we go there together and look some more? Maybe you missed something.”

  I shrugged. “Hard to say. I think I covered everything. Unless he has a hidden safe or cabinet I couldn’t find. But I didn't see any evidence to support that.”

  “Then we can start here but go back to the office if we don't find anything at the house.”

  “Yup.”

  “And we know where he is, so there's less chance of getting caught.”

  “In the parlor.”

  “For now.”

  Manuel removed his boots and socks. He took my soda and dropped it into the drink holder before taking my hand and pulling me to my feet. A soft smile rose on his face, and his eyes shone so bright, they must’ve captured the moonlight.

  I stepped on something sharp and stumbled against him. His arms wrapped around my waist to hold me steady. I liked being close to him. Flustered by that notion, I withdrew from his embrace, backing until my calves nudged my chair.

  He followed with a measured pace. Why did he have to look so good and be so intriguing?

  This fluttery feeling inside me took me into unfamiliar territory, and I wasn’t sure I liked it.

  “What are you doing?” My voice came out breathless.

  “Being your boyfriend.”

  Said like he was mine. And I was his. But that wasn’t true. We meant nothing to each other.

  My heart leaped, which it totally shouldn’t do. It would be wrong to read anything into this moment because being together tonight was only for show.

  He pulled me away from the chairs, out onto open sand, where he turned and tugged me close.

  My pulse hammered loud enough, the world must’ve heard it.

  “What are you doing now?” I squeaked.

  Leaning forward, his breath heated my ear. “I think your boyfriend needs to dance with you.”

  “But we can barely hear the music.”

  “Pretend.”

  We swayed in the sand, and pretending came too easy. The moon highlighted us, casting one long shadow. The warmth of his arms around my waist and his breath tickling my ear made me wonder what it would be like between us if this was real. Waves lapping the shore suggested I could have this and more. All I had to do was ask.

  When he was Manuel, joking around, I could brush him off. But I didn’t stand a chance against Manly.

  We spun fast, and I got dizzy. I laughed, and his deep chuckle joined in with mine. I stared up at him while he smiled down at me, and our footsteps slowed. He leaned in closer…

  A splash nearby dragged at my attention. We both turned.

  Brandon strolled out of the water like a god rising from the sea. Droplets coursed down his chest and made his swim trunks cling to his thighs.

  The old Janie would’ve stumbled, and her jaw would’ve hit the sand. She would’ve been proud to shout that this boy was hers.

  Now, I wished he’d go away so I could spend more time with Manly.

  Brandon strode past us and lifted the towel off the chair, wiping his face with it. He laid it around his neck so it draped down his chest on each side. Eyes penetrating like knives, he crossed his arms on his chest and thrust out his jaw. “Who's this?”

  We had classes together. Brandon knew very well who Manuel was, but he was just being a pain in the ass.

  “Manuel, this is Brandon,” I said, my happy mood popped like a pin in a balloon. “Brandon, Manuel.”

  Brandon’s glare slid to my face, and he released a wince. His voice deepened. “You have a lot of nerve coming to my party with a guy, Janie.”

  “I came with two guys, actually.” A quick glance told me my friend wasn’t at the buffet table any longer. Maybe he’d gone to the pool. “Sean's around here somewhere.”

  "You know he doesn't count."

  Why? Because he was my friend?

  “Manuel is a friend, too,” I said.

  Brandon grumbled. “More than a friend from what I just saw. And according to my mom.”

  Mrs. Somerfield worked fast.

  I retrieved my soda and hugged the can before taking a sip. “This conversation is pointless.” How could I placate him enough that he’d let us stay? Even if he made things unpleasant, I couldn’t let this chance slip by.

  Brandon sighed and shook his head, scattering droplets from his wet hair. “I want you here. Just not him. You’re mine.”

  That made me grind my teeth. “I’ve always belonged to myself.”

  The growl Brandon let out sounded more like frustration than anger. Rounding the end of the chair, he strode up to me. He took my hand and tugged me closer to the ocean.

  “Hold on,” Manuel said, moving toward us.

  I glanced at him over my shoulder. “It’s okay. I can handle this.”

  He nodded tightly and frowned at Brandon.

  “Come on,” Brandon whispered by my ear. “You know it's always been you and me.”

  “Not any longer.”

  “I made a mistake. I’ve apologized.”

  As if that was all it took for me to forgive him and welcome him back into my arms.

  A month ago, I would’ve been happy to see us working things out. We’d been together for more than a year and that meant something. But when I thought about Brandon and me finding a way to make this work again, only a hint of sorrow remained. He’d thrown our relationship away and there was no going backward.

  I wanted to move forward.

  “I can't do this,” I said. “Nothing’s the same.” The realization washed over me, and I wanted to smile, because I knew why—more important, who—had made me feel that way.

  “I blew it, didn’t I?” Brandon said softly. He stroked my hair and stared down at me. His eyes glistened as if he fought back tears.

  If I’d meant that much to him, why had he ended things? Because my burned arms and hands shouldn’t have mattered. People who truly cared for me didn’t let stuff like that bother them. Sean had stuck with me through it all.

  I stepped backward, putting a space between me and Brandon that mirrored the emotional distance widening in my heart. “I’m sorry.”

  He nodded, and his lips tightened. He couldn’t miss my glance at Manuel. Maybe he even saw the longing I’d just realized I felt.

  “I won’t force this, but I’m not going to stand around and watch you be with him.” Brandon moved around me and stalked toward the house.

  Unsettled by the confrontation, I turned to face the sea.

  Manuel came up beside me. “I’m sorry.”

  “It’s not you. Not really.” Brandon and I had been heading toward this moment for a while, maybe even before he broke up with me. Because he hadn’t truly cared for the real me, which meant it was just a matter of time before I saw things the way they truly were. Manuel being here with me only made it happen sooner.

  “What's up with him, anyway?” Manuel said.

  “We went out for over a year. He wants us back together.”

  Taking my hand, he squeezed it. “And what do you want?”

  I gave him a soft, tentative smile. “It's not Brandon.”

  “Hmm.” His teeth flashed in the night. “Let’s take a walk.”

  We headed north along the shore, our feet splashing through shallow water that ebbed and flowed. With nothing but the moon and the stars shining down on us, this moment felt timeless.

  I was enjoying myself too much. Enjoying the connection between Manuel and me too much. Like Cinderella, this magic would end before morning.

  “So, about those Celtics,” Manuel said.

  I laughed because his humor brought out everything inside me that ached to be free. Like I’d spun through the water with my arms spread wide. Reached out and cupped the stars.

  Manuel scuffed his feet in the sand. With his jeans rolled up, he looked like a boy goin
g fishing. Carefree. Happy.

  We talked about movies and books and places we wanted to visit, even if just once in our lives. I’d always wanted to see Paris, and Manuel hoped someday to visit Italy, where his grandparents still lived.

  He told me one of his favorite things to do was gardening. I laughed, though it was mixed with sadness because my mom had also loved gardening. But I kept picturing him with a shovel or a rake. Now, I knew the source of his wiry build.

  “It’s nine,” Manuel said after we’d walked some more. He returned his phone to his pocket. “You want to go back?”

  A whoop from the party reminded me we weren’t actually alone and that we’d come here tonight to find evidence that could prove Mr. Somerfield had committed murder.

  Not to get to know each other better.

  “Sure.” I should feel excited to see this getting started, not disappointment because the real moment was lost.

  We walked back, put on our footwear, and rolled down our jeans. After dumping our soda cans, we strolled past the pool, acting casual.

  Inside me, everything churned.

  I was scared that I’d get caught. Or that I’d find nothing.

  In many ways, the latter might be worse.

  16

  My throat tight with fear, I stood on the deck outside the back door to Brandon’s house, wondering if I had the guts to do this. But I couldn’t back down now.

  I held up one finger and whispered, “Wait out here while I make sure the coast is clear.”

  Manuel strolled over to stand at the rail, looking down at the pool.

  “Janie. You need something?” Mrs. Somerfield asked when I stepped into the kitchen. She leaned against the island, a glass of wine in her hand. A corkless bottle stood on the counter beside her.

  Skittish, I barely held in my jump. “Just the bathroom.”

  “Don’t forget, we have one downstairs, in the walk-out basement.”

  “Someone was using it.”

  “Well, punkin’, you know you’re always welcome to use the one up here.” After yawning, she took another sip of her wine.

  “Thank you.” I scooted past her and entered the facilities in the hallway, returning to the deck and Manuel a few minutes later.

  “Ten-o-clock?” I said, and he nodded.

  We returned to the beach and soon got roped into a game of cornhole with Sean and another friend. After that, we hit the buffet, although I was too nervous to eat more than a few crackers.

  A little before ten, a light turned on upstairs, about where I remembered Brandon’s parents’ bedroom would be. Were they going to bed? That would be perfect. I explained to Manuel.

  “Let’s wait, before trying again,” he said. “Give them time to settle down, fall asleep.”

  We perched on pool chairs and pretended fascination with the water volleyball game. About ten minutes later, the light upstairs went out. We waited fifteen more minutes before lifting our eyebrows at the same time. Rising, we made our way up to the deck.

  The kitchen was clear. Anxiety rushing through my veins, I waved for Manuel to follow me inside. We tip-toed into the hall and paused because lights shone from a room ahead of us. Had they been left one on in case someone came inside?

  Muted voices reached us. Damn. They hadn’t gone to bed.

  I eased forward, hugging the hallway wall. Fear crept up my spine like a thousand spiders. This wasn’t any different than when I snuck into Mr. Somerfield’s office, except here, we added the real danger of being caught. Mr. Somerfield would not fool as easy as Brandon, especially now that I’d tipped him off with my presence the other day.

  If I’d murdered a bunch of people, I’d be suspicious of anyone who came snooping.

  It wasn’t too late. I could call this off before we got too far into it.

  Would Mr. Somerfield have us arrested if he caught me searching his office? Manuel’s dad might be the police chief, but he wasn’t a father who let his son off easily if someone wanted to press charges. Manuel had received community service just for punching someone. Breaking and entering could result in juvie.

  I was willing to chance it. If Mr. Somerfield had murdered my family and Brianna, I was desperate to find proof. I couldn’t let this opportunity pass me by. He needed to pay for his crime. But I could be wrong to include Manuel.

  I paused in the hall, and Manuel turned back to face me, his eyebrows lifted.

  “You sure you want to do this?” I whispered. “I won’t be insulted if you choose to wait on the deck.”

  His eyes darkened. “No way are you doing this alone. I’m in.”

  Biting my lip, I took a deep breath and winced. No backing out, now.

  As we scooted around the end of the banister, trying to avoid detection by whoever was in the front parlor, Mr. Somerfield said, “That’s why it’s important we keep this quiet.”

  Boy. He and my aunt seemed to be determined to keep things ‘quiet’.

  Someone else spoke, but I could barely hear what they said. Since the voice was higher pitched, it could be a woman. Mrs. Somerfield?

  “And…the app…” that person said.

  App? I ground to a halt partway up the stairs, and Manuel stopped with me. Someone crossed the room and we shrunk against the wall, fearing they’d stalk out into the foyer and catch us.

  Please, don’t come out of the room. And, if you do, please don’t look up the stairs.

  The footsteps retreated and glassware chinked as if someone was pouring something from a bottle. The person spoke again, farther away from us than before.

  “Mrs. Somerfield?” I mouthed, meaning the low voice.

  He shrugged.

  “This is going to be a very lucrative partnership,” Mr. Somerfield said.

  Brandon had mentioned his dad was interviewing potential partners. Maybe the other person wasn’t Mrs. Somerfield but someone who hoped to join the company. Who was it? Curiosity ate through my bones while I remained frozen on the stairs. I wanted to tip-toe back down to the foyer and peek into the parlor.

  Manuel tapped my arm and nudge his chin toward the upstairs landing. He was right; we needed to get going. The potential partner could wait.

  Mr. Somerfield’s smooth voice spoke again. “I appreciate you keeping this between us. If it leaked out, it would create a mess. I’d…well, let’s just say I—we—could make a lot of money.”

  The other voice murmured what sounded like agreement.

  What did he mean by making lots of money? Hadn’t he profited enough already after Dad’s death? I quivered with unspent anger, frustrated that I couldn’t find a way to make him pay.

  “This will be worth millions,” Mr. Somerfield said. “You’re okay keeping it hush-hush for a few more weeks?”

  No discernible reply.

  I couldn’t decide what to do. Part of me wanted to run outside and creep through the shrubs to peer into the parlor and discover who the new partner was. But another part of me said the best time to search Mr. Somerfield’s office was while he was occupied downstairs.

  “Let’s go,” I whispered.

  The carpeted treads muted our steps, and we soon walked along the landing, rounding the corner and heading down the hall. Mr. Somerfield’s office was on the end on the left. I knew this after coming here a few times with Dad.

  My skin prickled, and my face had to be flushed. Fear wrapped its death grip around me, making me shake. Jeez, how could I do this?

  I opened the door with palms that slid along the metal. “You’re okay waiting out here?” I whispered.

  Make it fast. Don’t endanger yourself or Manuel.

  “Bathroom?” Manuel asked.

  I blinked, but the odd question dropped my heart rate a notch. “You have to go now?” I guessed I could wait while he—

  “If I’m caught, I can say I was using the facilities.”

  Good idea. At least someone was thinking. Scared as I was, I could barely function.

  “It’s down the end of the ha
ll.” I flicked my hand in that direction. “On the right. But if you see Mr. Somerfield coming, knock on the door first so I know what’s happening.”

  His worried eyes studied my face. “How much time do you think you’ll need inside?”

  Hard to say until I got in there but from what I remembered, the room held a desk, fireproof file cabinets, and a bookcase, much like Dad’s. “Ten minutes?”

  “Cool.” He tapped my back. “Go.”

  I snuck inside and shut the door behind me. Leaning against the wooden panel, I struggled to control my ragged breathing. Panic jumped inside me, telling me I was out of my mind to be doing this.

  Okay. I needed to get a hold of myself.

  Pushing away from the door, I centered myself and looked around. Everything appeared exactly as I remembered.

  The best place to start was the desk. Hurrying across the room, I sat in his chair which was nothing like my dad’s that took me to the moon.

  Work fast.

  With twitchy fingers, I slid open the center drawer and shifted the contents around. Nothing exciting here except pens and a ruler and tweezers. And Mr. Somerfield was into playing cards. He had five or six decks, some wrapped with elastics, the others still in their plastic packages. On to the side drawers, which yielded nothing but folders full of papers I sorted through quickly. Business jargon featuring marketing plans, supply and demand spreadsheets, and multiple lists of distributors. Nothing seemingly related to my case for murder.

  His computer sat on the desk in front of me but I didn’t dare turn it on as I had no clue about the password.

  Abandoning the desk, I tackled the file cabinets, two tall metal structures with three drawers each. One contained personal stuff, including pictures of Brandon and his sisters, elementary school craft projects, and even report cards. Hmm. Brandon lied. He didn’t get a B in English last year. He got a D.

  The other cabinet was locked. Crappity crap.

  Where was the key? I stared around wildly, my heart jumping around in my chest. Time was running out, and I was no further ahead than when I’d entered the room. I couldn’t leave without finding something.

  The bookcase held over a thousand volumes. It would take me days to pull each out, and that assumed he’d hidden the key behind a book. Crossing the room, I shifted through the knick-knacks on the sideboard.