“I’m more of a wine drinker,” she said.
“Well then, come on, let me introduce you to Kim.” I found Kim in the growing crowd and left Jenny with her, after discovering that they’d gone to the same high school, only Kim graduated several years after Jenny. Small world. I wasn’t sure what the maximum capacity of the roof deck was, but we had to be getting close. If any more people showed up, I hoped they’d brought their bathing suits because the only place that had any room left to stand was in the pool.
I didn’t recognize most of the guests. I saw several regular customers from Untapped Books & Café, including Seth, the coffee-drinking, laptop-obsessed, no-tipping table hog. A few faces I knew from Bethany’s Instagram account, but couldn’t recall their names. I had no idea Bethany was this popular.
The tiki hut had been converted into a makeshift tattoo parlor. A short line formed of people waiting for their owl tribute tattoo, and others were crowded around to watch the process. I could hear the faint buzz of the tattoo machine, and occasional laughter or shouts of encouragement when the person in the chair flinched. Several people walking around the party sported a new tattoo covered in Saran Wrap held on by tape. I guess people reacted differently to the process, because some of the fresh tattoos I saw were puffy and red, and others were merely shiny with whatever goo the tattoo artist smeared on them before wrapping them.
Then the elevator doors opened and I swear the temperature dropped from mid-nineties to low twenties as three people stepped out onto the deck—Cherise Deveaux, Tran Nguyen, and a third person who I assumed was the roommate I hadn’t met yet.
“You okay?” Izzy asked, sidling up beside me. “Because you look like you saw a ghost.”
I nodded. “Ducky,” I replied, but my whole attention was focused on the elevator.
I wasn’t looking at a ghost, but I had a feeling I was looking at a murderer. Maybe three of them.
23
Odessa Dean @OdessaWaiting ∙ June 28
Life is 2 important 2 be taken seriously—Oscar Wilde (maybe) #sayinggoodbye
IZZY GRABBED MY arm, and then flinched. I noticed that she had a wrapped tattoo on the underside of her wrist, and her movement must have irritated her inflamed skin. “What are you about to do?” she asked. “You’ve got that look in your eyes.”
“I’m not gonna do anything outrageous,” I insisted.
“Oh yeah? Like you’d tell me if you’d gotten arrested trying to break into Bethany’s old apartment building?”
“Huh?” My head swiveled toward her. “Who told you . . . ? Castillo.”
“Vince said . . .”
I cut her off. “I wasn’t breaking in. I wasn’t even attempting to break in. And I wasn’t arrested.” Handcuffed, read the Miranda rights, and tossed into the back of a police cruiser, yes. Photographed and electronically fingerprinted, yes. Chained to an interrogation room table, yes. But not arrested. Not technically.
“Vince asked me to keep an eye on you.”
I forced myself to grin and let the tension drain out of my shoulders. I’d never get any answers out of Bethany’s old roomies as long as Izzy was on Odessa watch. “That’s sweet of him. But I’m fine. Pinkie swear.” I’d never broken a pinkie swear before, but this was a summer full of firsts for me.
“All the same, it might be better if you went and checked on the ice situation. I’ll go greet our latest arrivals,” Izzy suggested.
“Suits me,” I agreed, my grin plastered firmly in place. To prove I was going to cooperate, I turned and made a slow sweep of the rooftop deck, checking the coolers as I went. Parker was sitting on one of the coolers, nursing a beer and talking to a pretty redheaded woman I didn’t know. She was laughing and leaning in to touch his elbow. “Hey, guys, hate to interrupt, but I need to get into the cooler real quick.”
They both jumped up. Parker looked sheepish as I opened the lid. “Need a beer? Don’t blame you. It’s awful hot out here.”
“I’m just making sure we have enough ice.” Like the others, this cooler was half-melted, and the beer cans sloshed around in the icy water.
“Do I need to make a run?” Parker volunteered.
“Thanks, but I think we’re good.” Something was different about him, and it took a minute for me to figure it out. “Hey, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you wearing the Untapped polo before.”
“Well, no. Kitchen staff aren’t required to wear them. They’re impractical, with the short sleeves and everything.” He held out his bare arms, which were covered in scratches and scars as usual. “That and back when we used to have to wear them like everybody else, they were always getting stains and cuts and burns until Todd caved.”
“You look good in the polo,” I told him, and I meant it. I hadn’t thought that anyone could pull off that shade of green, but it kinda worked on Parker. “Are you gonna say something later?” I knew Izzy was working on a speech, but I wasn’t sure if everyone was planning to speak or just a few people.
He shook his head and took a swig of beer. “Last time I tried public speaking, I puked and then passed out.”
The girl he was with giggled as if he’d said something clever. “I’ll let you two get back to your cooler,” I said. Then I winked at Parker and mouthed, “Good luck.” He blushed, and I returned to my rounds.
I found Marco near the back of the crowd, resting his palms on the lip of the wall that ran around the roof deck and staring off into the city. When I paused next to him, he said, “I bet that’s one heck of a view at sunset.”
“It sure is,” I agreed.
“Sorry about earlier, me losing my temper and all.”
“No worries. It’s not easy, losing your bae.”
He took a deep breath before saying, “Yup.”
“Are you all right?” Yes, I know. It was a stupid question. Out of everyone here, he was probably the most affected by Bethany’s sudden death.
He nodded. “I will be.”
“Good.” I leaned forward, admiring the view. Being more than a foot shorter than Marco, my elbows hit the wall about where his wrists did. “Can I ask you a question?” He didn’t respond, so I proceeded. “On the day that Bethany . . .” I wanted to say “was murdered” but I didn’t want to stir him up any further. “. . . died, she went to meet someone in Domino Park. You were working nearby, right?”
“A few blocks east of there, yeah. We’re revitalizing an old department store. By this time next year, it will be mixed-use commercial space and high-end apartments.”
“Did she go to the park to meet you?” I asked, even though I was fairly certain I knew the answer to that. None of the photos I’d seen from Domino Park that day featured a seven-foot-tall bearded man in an orange construction vest and hard hat. I might have missed something, but I wouldn’t have missed that.
“Nope. I was pouring concrete all morning. Ask anyone.” Talk about a rock-solid alibi. Literally. “Besides,” he continued, “she went to meet some chick named Stefanie.”
“What?” I turned to face him. The mysterious Stefanie I’d been looking for was the one in the park with Bethany? “Are you sure?”
He turned his face away and sighed. “I feel like such a chump, especially now, but it was all hella suspicious. She was staying out late and there were all these guys sliding into her DMs. I needed to know who Beth was cheating on me with, you know? Wanted to give him a piece of my mind. So I kinda hacked into all of her accounts and read her private messages, okay?”
“You did what?” I asked. I wished I’d been able to do that. It would have saved me the trouble of trying to get into her phone.
“The morning she died, a message came in from this Stefanie person asking to meet at the park. Something about a flash mob. Beth was always a sucker for those.”
He had my full attention now. “And you didn’t think to tell the cops this?” I asked.
Marco shook his head, “Why would I? Her death was an accident. Besides, I don’t know any Stefanie. Do you?”
“No. I mean, I don’t know know Stefanie, but I know who you’re talking about.” It had to be the same woman, the Stefanie99NYC stan that liked or commented on practically all of Bethany’s social media posts. Other than that, they didn’t seem to have any interaction online. Bethany didn’t reply to any of the comments or tag her in anything. So why would Bethany go to meet her in Domino Park in the middle of the morning?
Unless it was for the same reason I’d agreed to meet Marco in the park.
It was a public place. It seemed safe.
“I could use a refill,” Marco said, shaking his empty can. “Get you something?”
“No, thanks.” I didn’t understand how anyone could drink beer in this heat. It would go right to my head. Give me a big reusable bottle of water instead.
Marco moved out of the way and I found myself face-to-face with Cherise. “Oh, there you are!” she exclaimed. She pushed her sunglasses up onto her head. Her short hair had to be more comfortable than my long hair, which had been pulled up into a ponytail or bun almost every day of this infernal heat wave. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you.”
I glanced around to be sure Izzy wasn’t lurking nearby, ready to tackle me if she saw me interrogating Bethany’s ex-roommate. “Glad you could make it.”
“Wouldn’t miss it for the world. Tran told me you came by to pick up Bethany’s things. Thanks for that. I didn’t know what to do with them.”
“Did you know that Bethany was moving out?” I asked her.
“Of course. She was moving in with her boyfriend. Even agreed to catch up on the rent she owed and pay a little extra to break the lease with no bad feelings.”
“Thirty-five hundred dollars?” I asked.
“How’d you know?” Cherise asked.
“Just a hunch.”
“It was kinda creepy. It hit my bank account yesterday. Guess she set up an autopay before she died.”
Oh. That made sense. It explained the payment I’d seen. If Cherise wasn’t stealing from Bethany, and Bethany was moving out on good terms, then I couldn’t see any reason why any of the roommates would have to hurt her. Sure, they had to go out and find a new roomie to replace her, but judging by all the “room needed” notices I saw everywhere, that wouldn’t be too hard. Then I remembered that the thirty-five-hundred-dollar payment wasn’t the only one that had come out of her account. “Did she owe anyone else?”
“Not that I know of. In fact, she got a letter this morning from a bank. I didn’t know what else to do, so I opened it. It was a statement showing that her student loans were paid off in full. Such a shame. She finally finished paying off all that money and she doesn’t live long enough to enjoy it.” Cherise shook her head. “Makes you think.”
“Sure does,” I agreed. At least now I knew why Bethany had wanted to take the money for the maple bacon soap formula up front instead of waiting for royalty checks. She wanted to pay off her student loans and settle up with Cherise so she could start fresh with Marco. “One more thing. Do you know anyone named Stefanie?”
“Nope. Should I?” Cherise waved at someone over my shoulder. “Hey, I see someone I need to talk to. Thanks again for everything. This is a nice wake. Bethany would have appreciated it.”
“Izzy did all the work,” I said, but Cherise was already walking away and didn’t hear me.
This Stefanie nonsense was bugging me. How was it that no one knew who she was, when everyone seemed to already know everyone else? I pulled out my phone. Bethany was active on multiple social media platforms from Snapchat to Tumblr. She had Pinterest and a blog. But as far as I could tell, she spent most of her free time on Twitter.
It didn’t take long to find where Stefanie99NYC had commented on a post. I clicked on Stefanie’s name and opened up her profile. Her banner was a generic snapshot of Manhattan taken on a clear day. Her profile picture was a stuffed pink bunny. Cute. All of her likes and replies were to Bethany, but she had few original posts. She’d joined a week ago, and most of her feed was retweets.
If I didn’t know any better, I would have assumed she was a bot or a fake account. Then I read a recent tweet and despite the stifling temperature, a shiver ran down my spine. Is it too much to ask for a million dollars in uncut diamonds, and a gluten-free donut that doesn’t taste like ash? #mood #williamsburg
I’d heard that phrase before.
I hurried toward the elevator and jabbed my finger on the button. Only a few seconds had passed, but I was too impatient, and decided to take the stairs instead. It was only one flight down to my apartment. The air-conditioning was on full blast in the hallway, and I paused long enough to appreciate it before unlocking my door.
Rufus came to greet me, as usual. He meowed loudly, winding his way around my legs. “When’s the last time anyone fed you?” I asked him. I knew Izzy had given him breakfast, but I had no idea if she’d been home since then. She’d been so busy setting up for the wake, she might have forgotten. I knew I’d gone upstairs straight from work without checking on him.
I got a double scoop of the fresh cat food in the refrigerator and put it on a dish on the floor. Even if he had eaten lunch, it wouldn’t hurt him to get a little extra. “Sorry, Rufie, I haven’t been home a lot lately, have I?” I asked. He meowed in response, then turned his full attention to devouring his meal.
Detective Vincent Castillo’s business card was on the fridge. I pulled it down and dialed the number. It went to voicemail. Ugh. I hated leaving messages. “Detective, this is Odessa Dean,” I said after the robotic greeting. “I know who killed Bethany Kostolus. Call me back.”
24
Odessa Dean @OdessaWaiting ∙ June 28
Always b yourself. Unless u can b Wonder Woman, then always b Wonder Woman. #girlpower
I HEARD A RAP on my door, and I jumped. “Nine-one-one, open up!” came a man’s voice from the hall, and I relaxed.
Strange how much difference a few days made. Less than a week ago, when Detective Castillo had first knocked on my door, I’d panicked. This time, I opened the door eagerly. “That was quick,” I said.
Only it wasn’t the detective on the other side of the door.
It was Seth, the most annoying regular at Untapped Books & Café, Bethany’s biggest fan, and—unless I was very much mistaken—Stefanie99NYC.
“Hey! Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you,” he said, shuffling forward until he was blocking the open door. He spoke with the rapid, clipped pace of a lifelong New Yorker. “But it’s an emergency. Need to borrow the bathroom.”
I moved so I could grab the door frame and block his way. “There’s a bathroom on the roof.”
“Yeah, and it’s got a line longer than the folks queuing up for a tattoo.” He tapped his chest, where I could see a bit of tape and Saran Wrap peeking out of his collar. His fresh tattoo didn’t interest me. The half-healed scratches on his wrists did. “Good thing I got in early, while the artist was still fresh. Her hand has to be cramping up by now.”
“You can’t be in here,” I said, closing the door.
He wedged his foot against the door. “I know, but I can’t hold it any longer.” He ducked under my arm and pushed past me, into Aunt Melanie’s apartment. The door clicked shut behind him. “Man, this place is extra.” He made a beeline for the giraffe statue. “This is a Waxby, isn’t it?”
I shook my head. “I wouldn’t know. Bathroom’s that way.” I pointed toward the open bathroom door with one hand. With the other, I swiped at my phone screen. I’d intended to close the app so Seth wouldn’t see I’d been surfing Bethany’s comment history on my phone, but when I’d fumbled around, I accidentally opened the livestream option instead. I clicked the broadcast button, and then as casually as possible, propped my phone up, camera facing out, bet
ween two cookie jars—one a nineteen-fifties-style robot and the other a Day of the Dead sugar skull—and moved away from the counter.
“This is totally a Waxby,” he said, nodding to himself, still fascinated by the giraffe sculpture.
“Seth, I’d like you to leave. Please.”
“Just a minute,” he said, stepping around Bethany’s boxes of possessions to pull open the curtains. He slid the balcony door open and peeked outside. “What a great garden view.” Leaving the door open for the air-conditioning to escape, he turned and directed his attention to the bookshelf. “Wowzers, you really like to read, don’t you?” He ran his finger along the spines of the books. “This is a bookworm’s dream. What’s your favorite genre?”
“I prefer true crime podcasts. You need to go now.” On one hand, my Gammie would be appalled by my lack of manners, but on the other hand, Klaxons were going off in my head.
“Slow your roll,” Seth said, still examining the bookshelf. “What’s this one?”
Out of sheer habit, I took a step toward him before stopping myself. “I don’t know, what does it say on the spine?”
“Geez, rude much?” he asked, and I wilted inside. I’d been raised to believe that a good Southern woman always had a clean house, never offered guests store-bought iced tea, and was never ever rude under any circumstances.
“Please, Seth, just leave,” I begged. I moved to the other side of the kitchen island. The farther away from the phone I stayed, the less chance of him noticing it, I reasoned. “My aunt doesn’t allow visitors, and she’ll be home any minute now.”
“Tsk, tsk. I thought you were such a sweet, nice girl. But here you are, lying to me?” He shook his head to indicate his disappointment. “Your aunt’s in France. You should see the photos she posted on her Facebook account of her at the Eiffel Tower just now. Looks like she’s having the time of her life.”
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