The Dead Girl: Greg Owen Mystery #1

by Evan Ronan

  “Well, yeah. But only because she was best friends with everybody.”

  I know I should be able to follow her, but my head isn’t right. “If Julie that night were to have told somebody she was going to talk to her best friend, then it could have been any one of you?”

  “Yeah, I guess.”

  The suspect pool widens.

  “Back to Nick and Henry.” I take a deep breath, feel the pain in my wrist ease a bit. “What’s it to Molly if Julie and Henry are having sex?”

  “Molly had the biggest crush on Henry. Like, the biggest.”

  Listening to Alana talk, the way she says things, she doesn’t seem that far removed from high school.

  “Did Molly ever share this with Henry?”

  “Doesn’t matter if she told him or not, because it was obvious.”

  “How so?”

  “The way she was around him. Molly was usually kind of, um, I don’t know what you’d call it—”

  “A pessimist?”

  “No, like standoffish!” She nods. “I mean, she was okay, she wasn’t a total bitch, but with Henry she was super, super sweet.”

  “Like how?”

  “She actually smiled when he was around, for starters. She hung all over him. Any time he was around she’d find a way to touch him somehow. Stuff like that.”

  “So she loved Henry, who loved Julie, who was with Nick.” My head is spinning, and not entirely from the concussion.

  “Yes.” Alana checks the time. “I have to get back to work.”

  “Just a few more questions,” I insist. “What made Molly so angry about Julie having sex with Henry?”

  She looks at me like I have a very low IQ. “Julie was with Nick. She had a guy. Molly had nobody. It pissed her off that Julie got to have two guys, when Molly was really crushing on the one.”

  “And she was still mad even after Julie and Nick broke up?”

  “Yes.”

  “But why? All’s supposed to be fair in love and war.”

  She gives me a strange look, like I’ve come from a different century. I realize I have.

  “Julie was just using Henry,” she says.

  “Using?”

  “She liked him but not really like that. After Nick, she just wanted him around to, you know, have somebody around. That pissed Molly off.”

  I have a newfound sympathy for Nick, and this sentiment gets me thinking about his aunt, Denise, who did much the same thing to me.

  “Is that what they fought about at the graduation party?”

  “That’d be my guess.”

  “Alana, do you think Molly could have killed Julie?”

  She opens her mouth, but nothing comes out.

  “What?”

  “My kneejerk response was to say no.”

  “But?”

  “Before Nick was caught, I would have said the same thing about him.”

  “Do you think Nick did it?”

  “I don’t know.” Her eyes get a faraway look. “It seems so long ago, and like it happened just yesterday. You know what I mean?”

  “High school is like that.”

  She doesn’t really hear me. She’s thinking out loud. “I don’t know if he did it. At the time, I was so sure it was him. But now that a few years have passed … who knows? I guess Molly could have done it too. She had a really bad temper and she was infatuated with Henry.”

  “Thanks for your time.”

  Twenty-Nine

  “Hello?”

  “You lied to me, Henry.”

  There’s a long stretch of silence at the other end of the phone. Henry Lucetti was not expecting me to call, and he was certainly not expecting me to open with that accusation.

  “Who’s this?”

  “Come on, Henry. It’s 2017, and everybody has caller ID on their smart phone. You know who this is.”

  “What the hell do you want?”

  I’m pulled over on the side of the road, about half a mile from the hall. It’s an ominously grey afternoon.

  “I want to know, Henry, why you told me you and Julie only had sex one time and after she and Nick broke up.”

  Another pause.

  “Who told you that?” Henry asks.

  “Several people,” I lie, because this guy is a little too emotional and I don’t want him going after one of his old classmates. “They said you and Julie had something on the side going in the last few months of her relationship with Nick.”

  “Who fucking told you that?” he snaps.

  “Henry. Tell me the truth.”

  “I didn’t—I’m ON THE PHONE, MOM!” he shouts. Then he lowers his voice. A fraction. “I didn’t tell you because it’s none of your business. It’s none of anybody’s business.”

  “Why don’t you tell me what happened?”

  “What does it matter?”

  “It matters because it fucking matters. Now you can tell me or I can hop over to the police station and let the detectives know what I’m thinking and they can take it from there.”

  “Hold on! Just hold on.”

  The threat of me going to the police has him riled up. I wonder … yep, I’m starting to suspect him now too, in addition to Molly.

  Henry takes a deep breath.

  “Tell me, Henry.”

  “I didn’t want anybody to know. It’s nobody’s business. I don’t want them thinking Julie was some kind of slut. That wasn’t who she was.”

  “Then who was she?”

  “She was in a bad way with Nick. He was scaring her. Threatening to hurt himself if she left him. Julie felt trapped. She turned to me.”

  “Why didn’t she turn to Molly or Alana or Deanna or any of her girl friends?”

  “I don’t know and I wasn’t about to push her away. I … loved her. At first it was just hanging out, late at night. But then one thing led to another and we had sex.”

  “For how long was this going on?”

  “A few months.” He sighs. “Then, when she finally broke up with Nick I thought we’d finally get a chance to be together.”

  “But she rejected you.”

  “Yes.”

  “That must have hurt.”

  “It didn’t feel good.”

  I’m of two minds here. “Who else knew?”

  “Molly knew. I think the other girls knew or at least suspected. It’s hard to keep something like that secret from everybody.”

  “How did Molly know?”

  “Because I told her.”

  “You what?” Henry knew Molly had feelings for him, so this seems particularly cruel.

  “I said I told her. What are you, fucking deaf?”

  Deep breath. “Why would you tell her that?”

  “Because Molly wouldn’t fucking leave me alone. It was annoying to have somebody hanging all over me, whenever we all went out. She wouldn’t take a fucking hint.”

  “So you told her you and Julie were seeing each other to …”

  “To get her to leave me the hell alone. I don’t know how many times I told her I wasn’t interested.”

  “She and Julie fought about you.”

  “Yeah.”

  I reach, “They argued about you at the graduation party.”

  “Yes. Okay? Yes, they did. What does that prove?”

  “It proves somebody other than Nick had a motive to kill Julie.”

  “I didn’t kill Julie.”

  I say nothing.

  “Molly didn’t either.”

  “How do you know?”

  “Because she wouldn’t do that.”

  “You still think Nick killed Julie?”

  “That’s why he’s in prison.”

  “What time did you leave the graduation party that night?”

  “What?”

  “Quit stalling for time and answer the fucking question,” I say.

  “I was there until the end, asshole.”

  “Didn’t leave at any point?”

  “Fuck you.”

  And
he hangs up.

  Thirty

  There’s not enough day left to interview the other young woman, Deanna, so I kill a little bit of time at the hall. Out of habit, I go to a table to shoot, then realize that’s going to be hard while I’m wearing the wrist splint.

  Molly left the graduation party not long after Julie went to see Nick. She probably knew where Julie was going, could have followed her till she came back to the parking lot, and could have done the deed then.

  Henry, on the other hand, never left. So there are probably a couple dozen people who can vouch for his whereabouts. Then again, everybody was drunk and Molly had already left. Nobody else in the group was close with Henry, so they might not have noticed his absence.

  Molly or Henry.

  Has to be one or the other.

  Or someone I haven’t even met yet.

  “You okay, Greg?” Wally asks.

  “Just thinking.” I look around. “Where’s your better half?”

  Wally, for the first time ever, actually laughs at one of my jokes. “Roy took his old lady out tonight. Can you believe that? Bastard is two-timing me.”

  We have a good laugh at this.

  “How long have you guys been playing each other now? Thirty years?”

  “Give or take.”

  “Who usually wins?”

  “I’ve lost track. To me, it’s not about winning. It’s just about the game. I’m willing to bet after all these years we’re dead even.”

  Nobody gets ahead, sometimes.

  I nod. “If it’s not about winning, what is it about?”

  “Playing.” Wally thinks about it some more. He has the look of someone trying to put deep thoughts into words for the first time. “It’s what we do. Just two best friends who like to shoot stick.”

  “What else do you guys do?”

  “Else?”

  He gives me a smile and goes back to his table. On the way, he says over his shoulder, “Take care of yourself, Greg.”

  “You know, I appreciate you guys assuming the joint role of my father.”

  I say it sincerely, but he gives me a sharp look.

  Then,

  “Shit, Greg, if you die we won’t be able to play pool so cheaply near home anymore.”

  “My heart just melted.”

  I take care of some things around the hall, scrub the toilet and sweep the floor, you know, everything a small business owner does. Deep down, I know I’m putting too much of my time into the hall. All my other ventures are more profitable, so the laws of business dictate I spend more time there or on something new. But I can’t just let the hall go.

  It means too much to me.

  I pick up a pizza on my way to Lorelei’s.

  Thirty-One

  “Oh, Daddy, you look horrible!” Tammy exclaims after throwing open the door.

  “I’m alright. Give me a hug.”

  We manage to hug without me dropping the pizza, then go inside. Lorelei has had some work done on the house. Yet again. This time I find new tiles in the foyer.

  “Looks great, Lor.”

  “Thanks,” she calls out from the kitchen.

  I leave the pizza with her and try to get out of the kitchen before she can check me over like we’re still married. But alas, I’ve lost a step in my age and Lorelei is quick to begin the inspection.

  “You don’t look any better,” she says. “Your color is off.”

  “My color’s always off.”

  “Did you take your meds?”

  “My schedule is down to the minute with them.”

  “That’s good. I’m assuming you can’t have anything to drink?”

  “I can have water.”

  She laughs. “You know what I meant.”

  “I know what you meant.”

  “Then why did you have to be funny?”

  “Then why did you laugh?”

  “Guys,” Tammy says from the doorway. “Do you know you act like you’re still married?”

  There’s a bit of awkwardness that makes my daughter feel bad, so I blurt out the first thing that comes to mind.

  “Tam, I haven’t seen your room in a while.”

  My daughter and ex-wife are grateful for the change of subject. Tammy leads me upstairs. She has gotten taller, I realize, and now probably has an inch or two on Lorelei.

  Girls mature faster, I remind myself.

  “If you find the floor up there,” Lorelei calls out, “let me know.”

  I haven’t been upstairs in a long time, not since the last time I saw Tammy’s room, which must have been … two or three years ago?

  Lorelei isn’t exaggerating. Tammy’s floor is hidden under mounds of clothes and books.

  “I’m afraid to come in.”

  “Oh, Daddy, don’t be silly.” She yanks my good arm.

  “Any wildlife lurking in here?”

  She just rolls her eyes.

  I wade through the clothes, stepping carefully through the room like I’m entering a minefield. We make it to the bed without incident.

  “What do you think?” she asks. “Aside from the floor.”

  She’s got new posters up. A couple are of boy bands. Is it me or have boys gotten more and more androgynous over the years? Is there some evolutionary thing at play here? Then I remember the 80s hair bands.

  “Looks great,” I say. I notice there’s jewelry on her bureau now, a couple lipsticks. “Wait—did you get your ears pierced?”

  “Dad! That was like, two years ago!”

  Time flies.

  “You mean you never noticed till now?”

  “I’ve got bad news for you, honey. Most guys never notice a woman’s ear rings. We have to be trained.”

  “Maybe I like girls.”

  What did I get myself into here, with my tween?

  “Oh.” What do you say to that? “Do you?”

  “No!” she blurts out, then descends into laughter. “Dad! I like boys!”

  “Oh.”

  She senses my discomfort. “Did you talk to Mom some more?”

  “I did.”

  “And what did you say about us moving?”

  Tactical error on my part: I should have touched base with Lorelei before this moment. We’re divorced, but we still like to present a united front for our daughter.

  “We’re still discussing it.”

  “I think Mommy really wants to go.”

  “Yes,” I allow, “but we also are thinking about what’s best for you.”

  “How do you know what’s best for me?” A challenge. “How can you know a thing like that?”

  “Fair point,” I allow. “I guess what I’m saying is, as parents, you talk things over and try to think what will be best. You don’t always know. But you give it some thought and try, and if it’s not right, then you try something else.”

  “I don’t come with a manual.”

  I laugh. “Nope.”

  “Mommy’s always saying that.”

  “It’s true.”

  Her voice lowers a bit. “Do you want me to go to Maryland?”

  “No,” I just about yell. “No, honey, I don’t want you to go.”

  “Then I’ll stay here. Can I live with you?”

  It would require a major lifestyle change. Getting out of at least one of the businesses. Probably the pool hall. An hour ago, I was waxing nostalgic about the place. Now that I’m hypothetically choosing between it and my daughter, I’m ready to walk away from the biz without giving it a second thought.

  “If that’s what you want, I will make it happen,” I say.

  “I don’t know what I want, Daddy.” She looks at me shyly, turning back into a little girl instantly. “Is that okay?”

  “Yeah, that’s okay.” I put my arm around her. “There are times in your life when you don’t know what you want. Or you want what you can’t have, at least not right away.”

  I cut myself off before I get to rambling. Is she old enough to hear this shit? I don’t know. The phrase
scarred for life runs through my brain.

  “I’m hungry,” she says suddenly. “Can we go eat?”

  Downstairs we have a nice dinner and for a few minutes I feel like I’m home and still married to Lorelei. The evening passes quickly, and before I know it Tammy is going upstairs to finish her homework, then watch TV, then read, then go to bed, in that very strict and self-imposed order.

  I kiss her good night, Lorelei sees me out.

  The evening is cool and damp. The skies were threatening earlier, but no rain. It reminds me that worrying about something is almost always a waste of time.

  “How are you doing?” my ex asks. “Really?”

  “Tough case,” I say. “Real tough.”

  She nods. “I’ll bet you don’t miss high school now.”

  I laugh. “Not so much. But I’m an old romantic. I still think my best years are the ones ahead.”

  She smiles. “Thanks for coming over. You’re a great father.”

  “And you’re a great mother.”

  As I’m walking away, she says, “Greg.”

  “Yeah?”

  “I have a meeting tomorrow with my boss to discuss a transition plan.”

  I take a deep breath. “So that’s it, then? Guess we’re not going to discuss your moving away any further.”

  “I’m sorry,” she says. “The whole reason I went to my manager in the first place was to see if they would counter.”

  I stare off into the distance. So much to say. Most of it would come from a place of anger and resentment, though.

  “Tammy said she’d live with me tonight. Her idea, not mine.”

  Her eyes go wide in surprise. Guess Tammy never discussed the idea with her. But I don’t take much joy in scoring this point—I don’t want to hurt Lorelei either. We might be divorced but a part of me will always love her because she gave me the greatest gift in the world:

  My daughter.

  “I’ll call you tomorrow,” she says. “We can talk some more.”

  “Good night.”

  On the way home, I realize I never heard back from Steve over at PennSafe Mortgage. I check my voicemail just to be sure. And I realize I haven’t called Shaw back all day. He’s a motivated seller with other potential buyers, so I can’t let it go till tomorrow.

  Back to biz—

  “Jason Shaw.”

  “Hey, Jason, it’s Greg returning your call.”