Fatal Footsteps

by Brenda Donelan

  Tim, John, and two other guys rented the decrepit old house located in the center of town. Marlee knew Tim from her western civ class, and he had introduced her to John at the bar a few weeks ago. Tim welcomed people at the door and collected three dollars per person to cover the cost of alcohol. John reportedly ran to the liquor store in quest of more booze. A few other guys milled around the house, but Marlee was unsure who were roommates and who were party guests.

  By 9:00 pm, the party had picked up. A Van Halen cassette blared from the boom box, and the garbage pail punch was fully assembled and ready for consumption, thanks to John. Marlee reached in the trash can with her empty beer cup and scooped out a generous portion of the red drink. A slotted spoon, caked with rust, rested on the counter for anyone who wanted to dig deep for booze-soaked fruit.

  Marlee and her friends, now well-buzzed, split up and mingled with others at the party. She gazed around the room, noticing several people from her dorm and her classes. The majority of the people there she didn’t recognize. It was Marlee’s first year on campus. She attended another in-state school her freshman year, but after finding an interest in psychology, she transferred to a school across the state that was well-known for that program. Marlee was just learning the ropes at her new university, but she had already made a bunch of friends, was frequently invited to parties, and wasn’t flunking any classes, so she was off to a good start.

  “Hey, Marlee! Isn’t this party radical?” Beth Van Dam screeched as she danced her way through the growing crowd, holding her drink cup in the air. Her blonde, permed mullet rustled against the collar of her nylon jacket. They lived in the same dorm, and Beth was in Marlee’s biology lab. Earlier that afternoon, they had discussed the party.

  “Yeah. I didn’t know you’d be here. I thought you had to work late.” Marlee continued to sip from her red cup, beginning to feel the effects of mixed alcohol punch on top of keg beer.

  “I left 7-11 early. Told my boss I was getting sick and needed to go home,” Beth laughed as she chugged from her plastic cup. Beth sloshed some of her clear-colored drink onto the carpet as she navigated through the party, cigarette in hand. The matted carpet instantly absorbed the liquid, leaving only a small wet spot, which was dwarfed by a multitude of other stains of unknown origin.

  Marlee spied Paul in the kitchen helping himself to more garbage pail punch. She’d had her eye on him since last semester and saw this as her chance to visit with him. He was alone, and Marlee had consumed enough drinks to think she was funny, charming, and beautiful. She walked into the kitchen, her flowered high-top tennis shoes sticking to the semi-dried spilled punch on the linoleum.

  “Hey, aren’t you in my criminology class?” Marlee asked, sidling up to Paul to refill her own cup.

  “Yeah, I guess so,” Paul said as he turned around to face Marlee. His blue eyes were fringed with long, dark lashes, and his shoulder-length blonde hair was parted on the side and hung straight. He wore acid-washed jeans with holes in both knees. They were pegged at the bottom, revealing his white, scuffed high-tops. Reaching into his jean jacket pocket, he pulled out a pack of Marlboro Lights and offered one to Marlee.

  “No, thanks. Not a smoker,” Marlee said as Paul procured one from the pack and lit it up. “Are you ready for the quiz? I think it’s on Monday.”

  Paul took a long draw on his cigarette and exhaled the smoke through his nose. “Nah, I really don’t worry much about quizzes. How about you?”

  Wanting to appear as cool as Paul, Marlee downplayed her own dedication to the criminology class. “No way. I just pay attention in class, and then I don’t have to study.” In reality, Marlee loved criminology and read everything assigned. She also did extra research on topics that interested her. Math and science, however, were quite another story. If she didn’t care about the classes then she didn’t apply much effort.

  They chatted about their shared class, the eccentric professor who taught it, and one student in the front row who always asked stupid questions. Paul looked away from Marlee and nodded at somebody across the room. “Look, I gotta go talk to this guy, but maybe we can get together sometime.”

  “Yeah, sure. That would be great,” Marlee said as she put her hand on the counter in an effort to look casual. She hit the rust-encrusted slotted spoon which fell into the punch with a mighty splash. Paul was quick on his feet and jumped back before being covered in red punch. With an awkward laugh, he walked away.

  Jasmine was in the middle of the room, surrounded by three guys competing for her attention. The skin-tight blue dress fit her like a glove, and her black heels had her towering over one of her male admirers. She laughed riotously and tossed her hair from side to side, enjoying being the focal point.

  Kristie, clad in jeans, a blue t-shirt, and tennis shoes, was in a heated debate with two guys from their dorm about the necessity of fire alarms in the dorm rooms. Some students in their dorm disabled the fire alarms in their rooms because blinking red light disturbed their sleep. This was discovered during a routine safety check of dorm rooms and the offending students were forced to write reports about fire safety. Kristie was pro-safety, while the two guys were involved in disabling the alarms. When Marlee saw Kristie raise her hands above her head, she knew she needed to intervene before Kristie went ballistic.

  Walking past Jasmine, Marlee observed Polly standing alone by the window. She had a pinched look on her face and wasn’t enjoying herself. When she caught Marlee’s eye, Polly pointed to her Swatch watch and mouthed “Let’s go.”

  Marlee made it over to Kristie and pointed toward Polly. “The warden says we have to leave,” Marlee said in Kristie’s ear.

  “Already? We just got here!”

  “Polly’s not having any fun, so she wants to make sure no one else does either,” Marlee said with an edge of bitterness. This wasn’t the first time Polly pulled the plug on a social situation if she wasn’t getting any male attention.

  “Fine,” huffed Kristie as she walked over to Jasmine and relayed the bad news to her.

  “The bitch says we have to leave,” Kristie said to Jasmine, nodding her head in Polly’s direction. Jasmine’s mouth fell open as she obediently followed Kristie.

  “Polly, why do we have to leave now?” Jasmine whined. “We just started having fun.”

  “It’s almost midnight, and I have class tomorrow. I can’t blow off my Friday classes like some of you do,” Polly snapped as she headed for the door. “You don’t have to go back to the dorm with me, but I’m not waiting around any longer.” Since none of them had alternative transportation, they sullenly filed along behind Polly.

  It was a quiet ride back to the dorm as Marlee, Kristie, and Jasmine all silently fumed about their early departure. As mad as they were, they didn’t say anything for fear of jeopardizing future rides to parties, the bar, and the mall. One thing was obvious, they needed to find a new friend with a car. And fast!

  I hate it when somebody tries to steal my man! That’s an unforgiveable offense.

  Chapter 3

  The next morning the alarm rang way too early. Marlee hit the snooze twice then finally shut it off. When she awoke, it was past 11:00 am. Jasmine was still in her pajamas but out of bed. She looked horrible with tousled hair, bags under her eyes, and a glassy stare.

  “I feel like death warmed over in a tin pan in the microwave,” Jasmine mumbled as she sipped from a can of 7-Up.

  “How many glasses of punch did you drink, Jazz?” Marlee sat upright and maneuvered down from her lofted bed. She felt sluggish, but had taken two aspirin and drank several glasses of water when they got home, so there was no headache.

  “I wasn’t counting. Actually, I thought maybe I was drinking non-alcoholic punch because it didn’t even taste like alcohol.”

  “I’m not familiar with any parties that serve non-alcoholic punch,” Marlee laughed. “Unless it’s held in a church basement.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind.” Jasmine rubbed her temples with her f
orefingers in an attempt to alleviate her headache. “Maybe it’s a good thing Polly made us leave early after all.”

  “Polly can be a real bitch sometimes. We need to find another friend with a car. I’ve had it with her.” Marlee had put up with Polly’s bullshit for a semester and a half and was done dealing with her.

  “And they have to be willing to give us rides to parties and not insist we leave before everyone is ready,” Jasmine added.

  Marlee nodded, getting ready to rag on Polly some more when there was a sharp knock on their door. They both yelled “come in” at the same time, as they rarely locked their door except when they were both out of the room for an extended period of time.

  Kristie stomped into the room, a scowl on her face. “I can’t believe my roommate. After she made us leave early last night do you know what she said?” Not waiting for an answer, Kristie continued. “Polly said I owed her five dollars for gas money because she drove us to the party and also to the mall last week!”

  “You’re kidding!” Jasmine gasped.

  “I can’t believe she has the nerve. Is she going to charge us too?” Marlee asked, incredulous that Polly would ask for gas money. “We’re doing her a favor by letting her hang out with us.”

  “Yeah, and the party was only a mile away. I know her car is old, but there’s no way Polly used five dollars in gas. If she charges me for gas then I’m charging her for my jumbo bag of M&Ms that she ate while she was studying for her chemistry test.” Kristie was livid and would’ve marched back to her room and confronted Polly right then had Marlee and Jasmine not stopped her.

  The three groused on about Polly for a few minutes until there was another knock at the door. It was Polly, wearing a teal half-shirt that read “Life’s a Beach” in fuchsia lettering. She was smiling and upbeat. “Hey, everybody. Hope you didn’t have too much to drink last night. Have you heard the big news?”

  “No,” Marlee said sullenly, giving Polly the silent treatment by turning her back toward the unpopular neighbor.

  “Sorry, I made us leave earlier than you might have liked,” Polly asked sweetly, making everyone hate her even more.

  When no one asked about her big news, Polly took the hint and left. But not before she made a final remark. “Well, if you all can’t handle your alcohol then maybe you shouldn’t party on weekdays.” With that gem of advice, Polly sashayed her lumpy body out the door in her too-tight jeans and brightly colored half-shirt.

  The door was no sooner closed than Marlee, Kristie, and Jasmine began bitching about Polly again. After the novelty of that wore off, they shared stories of who they talked to at the party.

  “Jazz, I saw you talking to a bunch of guys, and you looked like you were having a good time. Are you interested in any of them?” Kristie asked.

  Jasmine perked up and recounted her flirtation with three guys from Dorner Hall, one of which she knew from her hometown. “Joey seems like a nice guy. I gave him my number. Let’s see if he calls.” She looked wistfully at the phone hanging on the wall, wishing for it to ring. “How about you, Kristie?”

  “I got into an argument with some guys about disabling fire alarms in dorm rooms. They were the idiots that unhooked their alarm last semester. I’m going out with one of them on Saturday night.”

  “What? You have a date? What’s his name?” Marlee asked, excited for her friend.

  “I didn’t catch their names. Guess I’ll find out when he comes to pick me up on Saturday night,” Kristie said, unfazed.

  “Well, I finally got to talk to Paul. You know, the guy I’ve been lusting over since last semester?” Marlee reported.

  “Yeah, what happened?” Jasmine asked.

  “I talked to him, and then I nearly splashed him with punch. Then he had to go talk to someone else,” Marlee recounted, realizing how pathetic it sounded. “Baby steps.”

  Jasmine and Kristie erupted into a fit of laughter. “By the time you graduate, you might actually have a date with him,” Kristie said.

  “You two are hysterical,” Marlee grumbled, laughing in spite of herself.

  “Ow, my head. Quit making me laugh,” said Jasmine. “I drank way too much last night. But at least I didn’t yak.”

  “You know who was really having fun when I saw her? Beth Van Dam,” said Marlee, recalling her quick chat with her friend. “Let’s call her room and see if she wants to come down here to rehash the night.”

  Marlee picked up the receiver and dialed Beth’s room. After a quick conversation with Beth’s roommate, Angie, she turned to Jasmine and Kristie. “Angie said she never came home last night. I wonder if she snagged some guy at the party.”

  “I saw her going upstairs a little after 9:00 with one of the guys who lives there. Maybe she stayed with him,” Kristie suggested.

  “It was after that when I saw Beth. Which guy did you see her with?” Marlee asked.

  “I don’t know his name, but he has black hair in a ponytail and has a mustache. He looked like a creep.” Kristie shuddered recalling the man’s appearance and demeanor.

  “I don’t know who that is. I don’t even remember seeing anybody by that description last night,” Marlee said and Jasmine agreed.

  “They were talking and laughing as they walked upstairs, so I know he didn’t force her to his room. Of course, I don’t know what happened after they got upstairs.” A frown crossed Kristie’s face as she thought about her friend with the creepy guy and what may have transpired after they reached his room.

  “I’ll call Tim. He lives at Stairway to Hell and can tell us if Beth is still there,” Marlee suggested. She placed the call and moments later hung up. Her face was white and her hands were shaking. “Tim said Beth was found in their yard this morning. She’s dead.”

  When I hear them say, “She was my best friend. We hung out together all the time,” I just think bullshit! Most of the people saying this never took the time to get to know me. They were too busy with their own little problems. They wouldn’t know a real problem if it hit them over the head.

  Chapter 4

  “What?” Jasmine and Kristie chorused, their mouths agape.

  “Are you serious? How can Beth be dead?” Kristie sputtered. “I mean, we just saw her.”

  “Tim said he took his dog outside to pee this morning. That’s when he saw Beth face down on the ground. He said she was cold, and he called 911 right away. The cops are still there talking to everyone at the house,” Marlee said, robotically repeating what Tim just told her.

  The three students sat in silence, each remembering Beth and the fun she brought to their lives in the short time they’d known her. Although the bonds Marlee, Jasmine, and Kristie had formed with others in the dorm were brief, they were strong. The loss of Beth was profound and knocked the wind out of each of them.

  Jasmine struggled to wrap her mind around the late-breaking events, and tears streamed down her face. “What happened? How did she die?”

  “Don’t know. I didn’t even think to ask Tim,” Marlee said. “I don’t want to call him right back, but maybe we should go over there.”

  “Why would you want to go over there? Just to get the gossip on how she died?” Kristie was beyond disgusted to think her friend was only interested in salacious news.

  “No. Not at all. I thought we could go for moral support for Tim and his roommates. Sure, I want to know how and why Beth died, but the police will want to talk to everyone who was at the party last night. They’ll especially want to talk to you, Kristie, since you saw Beth go upstairs with a creepy-looking guy,” Marlee said, a bit sheepish when she realized she wanted more answers.

  “Well, I guess that makes sense. But I don’t want to go over to Stairway to Hell if Beth is still there,” Kristie said, calming down now.

  “Me neither. I don’t think I could take seeing her just lying there in the snow,” sniffed Jasmine, dabbing her eyes and nose with a tissue.

  “I don’t want to see Beth either, but I know from my criminology clas
s that the sooner the police have all the information, the better chance they have of solving the crime. Let’s walk over there and get our interviews out of the way. I’m sure Tim, John, and the other roommates would appreciate our support too,” Marlee said, standing up and searching for her coat.

  Jasmine shook her head. “I can’t. I just can’t do it.”

  “That’s alright. I understand,” said Marlee. “How about you?” she said looking at Kristie.

  Kristie took a deep breath and let it out. “Yeah, I guess I’ll go with you. Give me a second to get my coat.” She walked from the room, closing the door behind her.

  “Marlee, are you sure you want to go over there? You were better friends with Beth than either of us. Won’t it be too much to bear?” Jasmine asked.

  “It is too much to handle,” Marlee admitted. “But I need to know what happened. It doesn’t make any sense that a perfectly healthy nineteen-year-old woman died at a party.”

  Kristie opened the door to their room without knocking. She was bundled up in a heavy coat, stocking cap, and gloves. Marlee met her at the door, and they trudged through the snow over to Stairway to Hell. It was late February and warm spring days would be on their way. But today was not the day. A brisk, biting wind cut through the duo, forcing them to seek refuge behind buildings twice before they reached the party house.

  Police cars surrounded Stairway to Hell and officers were stationed on all sides of the house to prevent unauthorized people from coming or going. Yellow crime scene tape surrounded the perimeter of the yard.